#Time is dad

[archerlullaby]

There aren’t enough TOTK comes back to the Chain fics out there so I figured I would write one. Hurt/Comfort, some angst, and some self-worth doubts. TOTK Link needs a hug tbh. Also, This is a Zelda slander fic, though I don’t directly hate her she kinda gets on my nerves in totk. MY BOI IS JUST SO TIRED LET HIM SLEEP PLZ.

Weariness and Worth

He was just so damn tired. He tried to be patient. He tried to put on the “Hero Façade”. But his resolve had begun to splinter with each passing moment alongside the princess.

He dragged his feet to the nearest cooking pot as Zelda strode purposefully up the Lookout Landing staircase. As soon as she got her wits about her after falling from the sky, she vehemently insisted that Purah is the first one she needed to see. It had only been a few hours since he had dragged her out of that lake, his body aching from his fight against the literal incarnate of evil, and the first thing she focused on was how she was home. How she needed to talk to Purah. How she needed a change of clothes. How she, who was a dragon for 10,000 years thank you very much, would like a good, hearty, home cooked meal, so Link, could you whip something up while I talk to Purah, please and thank you? He sighed, and all but collapsed at the edge of the fire, eyes starting to close of their own accord. The others in Lookout Landing all but ignored him, the Princess taking up all the attention while she smiled and waved as the individuals around her practically worshiped the ground she walked on.

“You look pretty worn out there son,” the elderly stablemaster chuckled, startling Link out of his stupor. This old man was the only one not rushing to greet the princess, and is instead settled a couple yards away from the cooking pot, his gnarled walking stick leaning against the inside of his knee. Link did his best to give him a smile, but only came up with a strangled-looking grimace. In the very least, he was grateful somebody at least acknowledged him. The stablemaster sighed.

“If only I was younger, maybe I’d have a chance with the young lady. I used to be something of a hero myself back in the day. Now all I got are my horses and these old bones!” He laughed, rapping a knuckle against his knee. “You are one lucky young man!”

Link’s grimace turned into a scowl. Yet again was he fooled into thinking someone cared about him. How naive of him. He stood and turned away from the old man, taking the Purah Pad from his hip. After stoking the fire, he decided on meat and rice balls. However while flicking absentmindedly through the Purah Pad for ingredients, he felt a very deep, sharp ache slam into his ribs. The pain gnawed at him like a wild beast, quickly buckling his knees and knocking the wind out of his lungs as his butt hit the ground. He gingerly felt around his chest, and came to the conclusion that becoming a dragon’s chew toy probably wasn’t the healthiest thing for ribs. He chuckled darkly. At least his shining sense of humor survived. The amusement was short lived, however, and tears pricked the corner of his eyes when he realized he used all his healing potions during the fight against Ganondorf, and that nobody, not even the stablemaster a stride away, cared enough to come to his aid. Everyone was so enthralled with that Princess. He fought the urge to bury his face in his arms and cry because he’s the Hero, the Chosen One, the Sworn Protecter of the Crown. Instead, he gathered himself quietly, stood, clipped the Purah Pad back to his hip, and hobbled out the southern gate without barely a glance towards the gathered crowd.

It had been an hour when he finally stopped walking, or rather, when his legs gave out and he flopped to the grass. The sun was just touching the western edge of the world, dew and darkness creeping into Hyrule Field as crickets began to sing. He knew he should go somewhere safer, somewhere where the wolves and the monsters wouldn’t catch his scent, but he could hardly keep his eyes open, and the smell of the earth and grass was so encompassing that he couldn’t bring himself to care about the danger. So instead, he closed his eyes and peacefully listened to the sounds of the coming night. That is, until his thoughts caught up to him. Coward, they called him. Abandoning duty for some pitiful, self-absorbed notion that he should be recognized, awarded, for accomplishing that for which he was destined to accomplish. These thoughts swirled through his head and screamed in his ears until he thought he would be deafened by the voices themselves.

That is, until the familiar and oh-so-welcome sound of time and space being torn open met his ears. Link blearily stumbled to his feet, and was met with the sight of a portal suspended in air just to his right. It couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be. He’s Link, he doesn’t get this type of fortune in his life. He felt like he could cry as he tripped over his feet and fell just a step away from the entrance, the burn in his side stealing away his breath. He only paused for a moment as he considered what this meant. He would disappear again, the people of Hyrule clueless as to where he went. Zelda clueless as to where he went. He bit back a bitter smile. She’ll just have to find him this time. Perhaps it was cruel, but he found that he couldn’t bring himself to care. So, on his hands and knees he dragged himself to the very edge and lurched through the swirling colors.

It was so warm, so gentle, so peaceful to just lie floating in the darkness. This didn’t feel like the icy cold waters of the shrine of resurrection, nor was it similar to the dark and damp cave he woke up in on the sky islands. No, this felt like a warm, thick wool blanket wrapped itself around his body, a soft embrace. Perhaps it was the downy feathers of the soft bed in Rito Village. Or maybe, Link mused, this was the water bed at the Seabed Inn in the Zora Domain. Sidon had spoke about a warming technology for the beds Kayden was trying to develop. Whatever it was, Link wanted to stay in it forever. Unfortunately, this peace was cut short.

“Cub? Wild, please look at me.” A familiar voice cut through the fog as he started to come around. His body changed from warmth to and almost refreshingly cool, as if aloe had been spread over a burn. A gentle magic encompassed him, one that was similar to Mipha’s, though less like a bubbling stream and more like that of the sun in the deep woods. He sighed, and snuggled further into the comfort that called to him. “Cub. CUB. Link!” Something tickled his nose, and it quickly pulled him away from soft darkness and into an irritating light. He blinked his eyes open all the way and was met with the welcome sight of a face donning a single black mark upon his forehead.

“Twi?” He muttered, voice raspy from lack of use.

“Oh, Wild, what happened to you?” Twilight asked, voice thick with emotion. Wild opened his mouth to reply before Twilight shook his head. “It doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that you’re okay.”

“Damn right. You fell through that portal and straight into Time’s lap. You’re lucky he wasn’t wearing his armor. You would’ve ended up with a concussion to add to your broken ribs!” Several chuckles came from the group, and a hearty laugh rang from Warriors. Hyrule, with his hands alighted on Wild’s side, looked pleased with his joke. Twilight merely shook his head and brushed his hand through Wild’s bangs. Wild had a thought to bat the hand away, but the worrying felt so good, so needed, that he found himself leaning into the touch, and, as Twilight continued his ministrations, Wild couldn’t help the tears that began to leak from the corner of his eyes for a second time that day. He brushed them away quickly and palmed his eyes.

“Sorry. M’fine,” he said gruffly, “Help me get up please.”

Twilight opened his mouth to protest, but Wild was already trying to shuffle himself out of Time’s lap when large hands, one on his forehead and the other on his shoulder, gently pushed him back down.

“Rest, Wild. You have no need to push yourself now. Your family is here to care for you,” Time’s voice rumbled from his chest, soft but demanding.

“But—”

“No arguing.”

Wild relented, and settled back into Time’s embrace, eyes feeling heavier than he would like to admit. Though despite the welcoming tendrils of sleep that curled around his consciousness, he couldn’t find it within himself to give in, not yet.

“What’s the matter, Cub?” Twilight still knelt next to him and Time while the others had begun to set out their bedrolls. Wild merely shook his head.

“It’s just-” he swallowed, “I’m afraid if I fall asleep, everyone will be gone when I wake up,” he whispered, embarrassment turning his head and closing his eyes so the others couldn’t see his face. “That always happens to me.”

He shouldn’t be saying this. He’s the Hero. The Savior of Hyrule. He doesn’t get to show weakness. Wild doesn’t want to open his eyes and see what surely must be disappointment on Time’s face, or disgust in Twilight’s eyes. Only a gentle warmth along his side breaks him from his thoughts. He looks down hesitantly and is met with the wide eyes of Wind, who has taken residence tucked along Wild’s hip, an arm thrown across his chest. The youngest gave him the biggest smile he could muster.

“It’s okay to be scared. I promise I’ll stay right here until you wake up in the morning. Even if you snore,” Wind said, and snuggled closer into his side. Time shifted, lying down close as Twilight tucks his pelt under Wild’s head.

“We all will,” the eldest reassured. It was only then Wild allowed himself a small smile. The doubts still ate at him, but they were lessening in their ferocity. The tiredness he felt before settled deep in his bones, an exhaustion so deep it slowed his breathing and finally closed his eyes, and finally, finally, he could sleep.

[lu-twilights-pup]

Fake dating sim part 2???

[noelledeltarune]

EVERY SINGLE DAY there are MILLIONS of characters in their late 20s who get falsely accused of being father figures to teenagers when in reality the description of "weird older cousin" or "step-sibling that moved out before you were born" is 1000000x more apt

[xekstrin]

One of the most memorable interactions was Saturday. Into our booth strolls a small family, tempted by free samples of freshly brewed tea. We chatter and give them the spiel, that the tea is character merch and we’re a cozy health-based app called Forage Friends.

The young girl zeroes in on our pride pins.

“They have my pin!” She says excitedly. “They have my flag!”

The dad blinks. He is surprised, but also calm and positive when he sees it’s the lesbian flag. “Oh. That’s… different from what you told me.”

“That was months ago, dad.” And she rolls her eyes. Definitely a teenager.

I turn to him and say, “Yeah, dad.” And we share a little laugh about it.

He says, “No, it’s great. That’s amazing, honey. It was just news to me.”

“Well, I guess I just decided to stop lying to myself. About liking guys. Like right now.”

A little lesbian just came out to her dad and he was super cool about it.

I’m standing there in my tie-dye mask and my cheery blue apron pouring tea and making small talk and I’m trying really hard not to cry or compare it to my experience, the fire & brimstone, the disgust, the conditional acceptance as long as I never bring it up.

So as this beautiful bonding is going on, the girl’s even younger brother turns his gaze around. He’s in a snorlax hoodie and bored and wants to go look at the swords across the hall. But on the other side of our booth….

“WHY DO PEOPLE DRAW THAT?” He asks loudly, and we all turn to our neighboring booth.

Our neighbors were extremely lovely people. Every time we had a break we would talk, and we became good friends over the weekend. They kept apologizing that their booth was next to ours and we kept repeating that it was totally fine. Their booth was great. I even bought their merchandise.

The thing that was so contentious, that they felt the need to apologize for, was that they were selling explicit titty hentai stickers of popular characters. They were censored with little yellow R18 labels but the content was very clear.

So back to the family: I freeze and immediately go somewhere else to let dad handle this question. With adult customers I’ve been loud and positive about our neighbors. (“Man, how has it been boothing next to them?” It’s been great! They bring a lot of foot traffic and they’re kind and wonderful professional neighbors. If anything it’s a fun juxtaposition. We believe in artistic freedom. I bought a sticker too!)

But this is a kid, it’s not my place to explain anything…. But I was extremely curious about what this chill dad would say.

“Well,” dad says with a long measured silence between each word. “Sometimes people are horny.”

[bananonbinary]

for ages i thought i didnt like drag because of internalized homophobia but it turned out i just don't like bright lights and loud music and really visually complicated things

spd is homophobic i guess is what im saying

[notherpuppet]

I just love the idea of Lucifer having to deal with this fucking guy every time he wants to see Charlie

[artkiving]

Dad Gojo Shenanigans part 1

+ bonus

He is so done.

(reblogs and shares appreciated 🩵) very much inspired by this art by @cobaltfluff

DAD Gojo Shenanigans continues..(Part 2)

[july-19th-club]

seriously have been thinking about this all night long. call me autistic but the fact that 90% of workplaces the point is not to get your work done and then be done doing it but to instead perform an elaborate social dance in which you find something to do even when you're done doing everything you need to do in order to show your fellow workers that you, too, are Working . because you are at Work . disgusting why cant we all agree that if there is no work immediately to be done. we just dont do anything

[kbondoxxxxav]

they’re neighbors au

[chloesimaginationthings]

Michael is trauma dumping again to FNAF movie Vanessa,,

[lazylittledragon]

he's nothing if not determined

[archerlullaby]

HELLO FRENS I AM BACK WITH juuuust a wee bit of TIME CONTENT. I love this man. So. Much. SO…I decided I would indulge myself with a bit of angsty hurt/comfort with the resident hero dad who is just worried about his sons, particularly the one who turns into a wolf ( or rather, the son is worried about his dad). @cricketflour ‘s angsty Time and Twilight piece was the brainworm for this one, so go check them out! Anyways……. HERE YA HAVE IT, FOLKS!

Fade Away

Time doesn’t remember his armor being this heavy. Sure, it can be a hassle at times, but it’s never heavy. His eye flutters open and, to his surprise, is met with…dark. Pitch. Black. Dark. And if there’s one thing the Hero of Time hates, it’s darkness.

Time tries heave in a breath, but is left gasping when the weight of his armor does not give way. No, no! Something’s wrong! He thinks. Panicking, he begins to glance around, straining his good eye, trying to see something, anything! His breaths begin to wheeze and he stops, forcing himself to calm down and take account of his situation. Last thing he remembers was…exploring some type of ruins in Wild’s Hyrule? Yes, that was it. He had seen something in one of the passageways and the next thing he knew the floor opened beneath him and…nothing. Time sighs. He loves the kid, but he hates his Hyrule.

He shakes himself out of those thoughts and continues to take note of his predicament. His internal clock tells him its exactly 9:39 at night, approximately two hours before what he last remembered. He grimaces. That’s a long time to be out. Taking into account his physical state, his face is pressed against something soft and cool, earthy smelling. Dirt. He notes that he has a slight headache. Maybe hit his head on the way down? Further along his body, he takes note of his left hand pressed under his chest and his right is pressed palm down against what feels like rock, cool and damp against his fingertips. His legs? There, but numb and tingly. Pins and needles are shooting from his lower back to his legs and he begins to panic once again, breaths coming in tight, labored gasps. A dawning horror begins to root itself in his fuzzy thoughts, and it brings him back to one, simple notion: My armor is never this heavy! The dread settles like a pit in his stomach. As he tries to lurch himself upwards, his fears are confirmed with the crushing weight of something heavy his back. Wait, what had happened to the rest of the boys? Are they okay? What if they’re trapped like he is, or worse? He gasps, trying to wiggle out from under the weight, fingers scrabbling at the dirt floor of his prison.

“Goddesses!” He curses, “I fought the fucking moon, and here I am getting beat by a rock!” Determination grits his teeth and furrows his brow as he tries to force his right hand free. I’m not giving up, not like this! He wiggles a few more times until a shower of dirt and pebbles dusts his hair. He ceases his struggling, fearing what would happen if he were to continue. He takes a few breaths as deep as he could, closing his eye against the encompassing darkness. As he calmed himself, he begins to notice a sound, that of running water off to his left. A…cave? Wild spoke about how, when the-what was it called? Time huffs. Doesn’t matter. When those floating islands nearly fell out of the sky, Wild had explained how caves opened up around his Hyrule. This must be one of them. When he fell, he must have brought part of the ceiling with him. Just his luck.

“Well, at least my head isn’t under there,” he laughed to himself darkly, “Would have been one hell of a headache!” And it can’t be too heavy, he thinks. I can still breathe a little bit. His mind races, trying to figure out his next move, when the sound of water is broken by the sound of something else shuffling in the darkness. Time does his best to quiet his breath, unsure of what could be lurking in the caves.

“Hnngh, fuck that hurt.”

Time’s eye widens in the darkness, trying desperately to see where that familiar, twangy voice came from.

“Twilight?” He hisses, turning his head desperately towards the noise. “Twi? Twi, talk to me. Are you alright?” A groan echos through the darkness.

“Dandy,” The other hero replies. Time could cry in relief. He hears more shuffling, then footsteps as Twilight gets to his feet. “Where ya at, Old Man?”

“Here! Under-” he pauses to take a couple of fast breaths, the weight seemingly heavier by the minute, “Under here!”

The footsteps draw closer, until they are nearly at his face.

“Shit…Time…” Twilight pauses. “I’m going to try and get you out from under there, just hang tight.” Time breaths a short sigh of relief.

“Thanks,” he replies hoarsely. Though he wouldn’t admit it, the knowledge of not being alone down in this place is enough to put a lump of emotion in his throat. He felt a prickly and uncomfortably warm wave wash over him, the unique feeling of Twilight’s dark magic working in close proximity, but it was quickly replaced with a cold snout pressing at his cheek. Time feels himself calm a considerable amount at the feeling.

“I think I’m laying mostly on dirt, though rock begins at about my waist. You think you can dig me out?” Twilight huffs as if to show how offended he is at being asked such a simple question. Regardless, he begins to carefully dig around Time, doing his best not to shift too much earth for fear of the stone above shifting. Luck was on their side, for once, as Twilight continues and the rock showed no sign of falling further. Finally, Time is able to start to move his arms enough to wiggle himself a little forward, enough that he could breathe again. He feels like a drowning man breaking the surface of the water, the damp, stale air soothing his lungs as he gasps. Twilight shifts back.

“I think I can pull you out if you give me your arms,” he says, placing a hand upon Time’s left arm. Time could cry in relief.

“Yes, here,” he wriggles his right arm out from his side and grasps Twilight’s forearm.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

With a grunt, Twilight heaves Time out from under the stone slab, dragging him a few paces away before setting his arms gently back on the ground. Time groans, rolling onto his back as he hears Twilight sit down heavily next to him. He grits his teeth as the pins and needles feeling in his legs increase to a burn as feeling starts to trickle back. He sighs, a wave of relief washing over him. The Rancher is the first to speak.

“Din’s tits, I hate the dark.”

Time laughs.

“It runs in the family,” he replies, reaching out in the darkness to search for his protege. He finds his leg and pats it appreciatively. “Thanks, kid.”

Twilight huffs again.

“You’re really working hard to turn into Shade, y’know that?”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it. Listen, I’ve lost my lamp, and I couldn’t find your bag of trinkets, so I’m going to stay as wolf until we get some light in here. Maybe I will be able to keep us from walking off a cliff or something.” Before Time could respond, A rush of magic encompasses the air, and then smell of wet dog invades his senses. He sighs.

“Listen, Twi, that’s not a good way to deal with your feelings.”

Wolfie growls and snaps his teeth in contempt. After a moment, he feels the wolf nudging his arm, trying to get him up. Time sits up, pressing a palm to his temple to try and ease the persistent drumming that has begun to make itself known. Wolfie nudges him again, nipping lightly at his elbow.

“Take it easy, I’m doing my best here.” The burning in his legs has all but disappeared, yet they remain weak and shaky as he tries to hoist himself up from a sit. Wolfie wiggles his way under Time’s hand and he uses the extra support to get steady on his feet. Keeping his hand gripped tightly in the thick fur, Time begins to shuffle along next to Wolfie, the two of them making their way step by step in the darkness.

Time wished he could say he lost track of, well, time, but he counts exactly twelve minutes before they made it to the source of the water, and since then had been following it down stream for fifty-four minutes and seven seconds. And, for those sixty-six minutes and seven seconds, his head had become increasingly more painful and his limbs had become increasingly more heavy-feeling. It was after another five minutes or so that Time realized he could begin to make out the shapes of the rocks at his feet and the glimmer of the cold water running to his left.

“Twi…the light,” Time mutters, the mere movement of his jaw aggravating his headache. As the two turn the corner, a cluster of glowing stones light up the tunnel in front of them. Time nearly laughs, feeling awash in the relief of seeing the soft blue glow the odd-looking stone cluster emits. The stones are dotted down the way, providing a dim, cold light to the dark stone. He lets go of Wolfie’s fur and slides down the side of the tunnel to sit tiredly against it. Wolfie approaches Time with a sniff, and dissolves into a cloud of darkness, leaving Twilight kneeling before him.

“Time, I could smell blood as Wolfie, but you didn’t tell me it was this bad,” Twilight says. Time almost teases him about being the one to speak when he literally almost died a few months ago, but the look in Twilight’s eyes gives him pause.

“I don’t know what the damage looks like. This place isn’t exactly littered with mirrors,” Time chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. Twilight doesn’t react and only looks at him worriedly. Time sighs. “C’mon, Rancher, you’re making me nervous, looking at me like that.” Twilight shakes his head.

“We need to get out of here. I’m sure this river opens up somewhere.” Twilight grabs Time’s arm and hoists it over his shoulder, lugging Time up in the process.

“Easy! You don’t have to treat me like one of your farm goats, Twi!”

“Then get your feet under you, Old Man. I have no qualms about throwing you over my shoulders,” he shoots back, the hint of a laugh dancing on the edge of his voice.

The two trudge on, step after step, minute after minute. The rushing water seems to bleed into the dim light, swirling together in a dizzying sort of dance that made Time’s head spin. He focuses on breathing and forcing out the thought of what feels like a hot iron band around his skull. At some point, Time startles when he realizes he can’t recall exactly how long they’ve been traveling. Oh. Oh no. He feels his feet catch on a ledge of rock, and he almost brings the both of them tumbling to the ground.

“Time!” Twilight exclaims, righting them as quickly as he could. Time groans.

“Quiet, Rancher. Gotta headache,” he mumbles, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. He feels Twilight heave him closer, wrapping his free arm around Time’s waist and nearly carrying his weight. Time feels bad. “S’too heavy. Don’t gotta d’it f’me.” Twilight only holds him tighter.

Goddesses above, he was tired. When did he get so tired? Were they moving again? What’s that noise? Crickets? They’re too loud. Time squints his eye open and shuts it immediately, the light of the full moon sending a searing pain into his head.

“Damned moon,” He mutters. He couldn’t feel his legs again. Who was touching him? He struggles away from the iron grip encompassing his waist. “No…leave go me…” Ohhh, he feels nauseous. So very nauseous. He lurches to the side and empties his stomach. What’s that noise? A voice? It’s too loud. It’s all too loud, and he’s tired, and his head hurts, and if this person could STOP FUCKING TALKING-

“Time, Time please, you need to stay awake. I…I don’t have a red potion, or a fairy, or anything! Just hold on a while longer. Please…I can’t lose you like this Old Man, not like this,” the voice says, and Time can hear a certain anguish behind it that makes him sad, though he can’t begin to figure out why. He is no longer on the ground, his feet dangling in the air and a warmth at his chest. His chin rests on something inexplicably soft.

“Whaa…”

He can hear a steady thumping that jolts in cadence with his head. Malon must be working on the new cucco coop she said she’d build, though Time can’t figure out for the life of him why she’s up this early.

“Malon, cantcha wait ‘till later to build that thing?”

A quiet sob reaches his ears. Oh no, no, no. That won’t do.

“Mal, s’kay, I’ll help ya! Don’t cry, please don’t cry!” Time lurches forward, dry heaving, as there’s nothing left in his stomach. His world spins, and all goes quiet.

He wasn’t sure where he was. He wasn’t moving. He couldn’t move. There was a cold touch at his cheek. A hand, wiping at something on his face. He then hears it, a shuddering breath. Opening his eyes, a blurred figure moves right in front of his face. Blinking a couple times, the figure comes into somewhat of a focus.

“Twi?”

The boy’s hands were shaking. He could feel them tremble on his cheek.

“Time, dad, please. I don’t know what to do. I’ve never seen it this bad. You seemed alright before, what’s going on?”

“Twi…I don’t…I don’t know,” he manages to make out.

“Your head, you had to have gotten hit on the head, but I’ve never seen someone act this bad before!”

Time uses what’s little left of his strength to reach out, touching Twilight’s face. His hand comes back wet.

“M’sorry, don’t mean to make you cry, Rancher,” he whisper. Twilight catches his hand as it drops.

“You’re gonna be okay Time. By Hylia, I will make sure you are okay.”

The next time he wakes up, his head doesn’t hurt nearly as bad, though it is still quite painful. His chest hurts like a Goron is sitting on it. He groans and lifts his hand to unbuckle the straps of his armor, but is surprised to merely find the soft cloth of his tunic instead.

“What? Who? My armor?” He mumbles. A hand grasping his, a eucalyptus cool washes over his body. Magic.

“Time? Time, can you hear me?”

“Rulie?” He whispers. Voices blend into the background, mixing with the jumping light dancing behind the eyelid of his good eye. The hand settles itself on his forehead, sending a wave of relief through his body as the pain behind his forehead eases to a dull ache, similar to the ones he gets after a long fight.

“I’m here. You’re going to be alright.” Hyrule’s voice is soft, softer than it usually is, and sounds strained, like someone exhausted. Time finally manages to force his eyes open, meeting Hyrule’s soft, honey-colored ones.

“Rulie.”

Hyrule smiles gently but doesn’t speak, one hand on Time’s head and the other on his chest. There are deep purple circles under the healer’s eyes, and his brow is drawn taut and focused. Another figure moves in Time’s peripheral.

“Twilight,” Time whispers as he comes into focus. His eyes are red and puffy. “What happened?”

Twilight coughs and gathers himself, his facial expression back to his normal neutral look.

“You nearly died. I managed to drag your heavy ass back to camp after getting out of that cave. By the time we made it here you were shaking uncontrollably. Sky had a red potion on him, thank the goddess, and Wild had a fairy. Hyrule did the rest of the work.”

“Oh, Twi…” Time trails off, the pain in Twilight’s eyes adamant. Hyrule interrupts.

“Your brain was swelling. It happens when you get hit on the head too hard. You’ll be fine within a day or so. I will heal what I can,” Hyrule explains, standing from his position at Time’s side. “But for the meantime, you should get some rest. It’s safe to do that now.” Hyrule nods at Twilight and leaves the two alone. Twilight’s gaze is heavy, and Time almost wishes he were back under that stone slab.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that—”

Twilight lurches forward, grabbing onto Time like a lifeline, burying his face in Time’s neck. Though Twilight did not make a single noise, Time could feel tears drip onto his shoulder.

“Don’t you dare ever do something so stupid like goin’ off by yourself like that again, Old Man. Ya hear me?”

Time nods, encompassing Twilight with a hug.

“I promise, I’ll be more careful. But why did you follow me?”

Twilight huffs.

“I saw ya, goin’ down that passageway by yourself, and I had a bad feeling. Before I could call out to you, the floor gave way and we both tumbled down. You were the unlucky one,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

“Once I got you back to camp, the others said they saw us fall. Your bag of stuff got caught on an outcropping you bounced off of, and you had the right mind to throw your sword away so you wouldn’t fall on it. Wild climbed down and grabbed both of them.”

Time sighed, thankful for Wild’s boldness when it comes to steep cliffs and endless drops. He turned to meet Twilight’s eyes.

“Are you alright, cub?”

Twilight opens his mouth like he wants to say something, then seems to think better of it and nod his head.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m okay now that you’re okay,” he replies hoarsely. Time decides not to press. Instead, he pulls Twilight down into a bear hug.

“I love you, son,” he whispers. Twilight falls into the hug with a sniffle that’s barely audible.

“Love ya too, dad.”

[marisatomay]

there should be an oscar category called “movie my dad completed without falling asleep on the couch” and it’s more prestigious and contentious than best picture

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[peach-fiz]

A lil goofy comic :>

[duplicarto]

this came to me in the bathroom. an au where simon and golbetty have a golbaby

part 2