#and he feels like an *ss

[puppyeared]

Wyrm on a string

[phoenixcatch7]

Okay but it's super interesting how

Din = Power = Ganondorf

Naryu = Wisdom = Zelda

Farore = Courage = Link.

Because Din, in the hylian creation myth, created the physical world. Naryu then created the laws - gravity, time, etc. And Farore finally created life - plants and people.

Din created the body, naryu the mind, Farore the soul.

And the triforce and its wielders so perfectly reflect that.

Ganon is physical power, he is big and intimidating and he breaks things. He is cunning and determined, but that's not what he focuses on. He is might makes right.

Zelda is wisdom and cleverness. She is stall tactics and information and team work. She is a powerful mage with a spine of steel, but that's not how she'll win. She is the pen being mightier than the sword.

Link is courage and persistence. He is the wild card sneaking behind enemy ranks, always moving, plunging into terrifying situations head first. He's a phenomenal fighter with a keen wit, but that's not what will get him through his challenges. He is bravery not being the absence of fear but the triumph over it.

They sit in perfect parallels to each other.

And ganon is reborn through his body - his resurrection is immortality. No matter how low he is cast, as long as he has a body he can claw his way back. He can cling to his power, build it ever higher.

Zelda is reborn through the magic of her bloodline. It's the accumulated knowledge handed down for generations, the unique power she must master, the skills she must develop to survive and get her kingdom out the other side intact. Even her name, the knowledge of herself, is handed down from all the way from the very first. Her ancestors knowledge of her future presence, her stability, is what gives her the edge.

Link is reborn in spirit. He is not bound by flesh or blood. Just like his wanderlust soul he can reappear in any time or place. His variation, his unpredictability, is exactly how he fights. It's what makes him so hard to pin down.

Ganons need to build strength means he can't chase after link. Links impulsiveness means zelda can outwit him. Zeldas stationary predictability means she's an easy target for ganon.

But the other direction?

Fire melts ice, ice redirects lightning, lightning burns fire.

And that's the very essence of the triforce.

[theloveinc]

Bakugo is the type of idiot who doesn’t realize that roughhousing with someone you’re interested in is erotic … not until your legs end up around his waist, his arms above your head and his mouth near yours … and then he’s just thinking oh shit lmfao

[larrylimericks]

12Jul24

Three hundred and fifty-six days Since last we saw Harry on stage, But tonight a duet! For Ms. Nicks’ Hyde Park set, And a Songbird who’s now flown away.

[sskk-manifesto]

Bungou Stray Dogs: Dead Apple and how “ability users” (opposite to “normal people”) learning to accept themselves through the acceptance of their own abilities is a queer metaphor of acceptance of own's sexual orientation and gender: an essay by me

[cringelordofchaos]

SOUTH PARK OMORI AU BECAUSE IM ACTUALLY INSANE

If anyone has any questions about what the actual fuck is supposed to be going on feel free to ask !!!

Hopefully this makes sense to someone out there

(basically stan is sunny, Kyle is somewhat Aubrey, Kenny is somewhat kel and a little hero, Cartman is NOT hero though, butters is basil and shelley is mari. And tolkien is kim now ig.)

[bidokja]

I was joking a while back that the actor they have playing KDJ for the orv movie was too handsome for him and a friend who's read orv was like "KDJ is actually secretly attractive!!" And I just felt my soul leave my body right then

SIGHS...

Okay. Buckle in. I'm gonna finally actually address and explain and theorize about this whole...thing.

I'm not gonna cite any exact chapters cause it's like 11:30 and I've got an 8 hour drive in the morning but I'll at least make an approximate reference to where certain things are mentioned. Also, this post is just my personal interpretation for a good bit of it, but it's an interpretation I feel very solid about, so do with that what you will. Moving on to the meat of things:

There is one (1) instance in the web novel that I know of which describes specific features of Kim Dokja (especially ones other people notice). This takes place when members of KimCom are trying to make Kim Dokja presentable to give his speech at the Industrial Complex (after it's been plopped down on Earth). This is when they start really paying attention and focusing on Kim Dokja's appearance since they're putting makeup on him; I still don't think they can interpret his whole face, but they can accurately pick out and retain more features than usual. If I remember correctly they reference him having long eyelashes, smooth skin, and soft hair. These features can be viewed as (stereotypically) attractive.

Certain parts of the fandom have taken this scene and run with it at a very surface level, without realizing (or without acknowledging at the very least) that this scene is not about how Kim Dokja looks. This is, in part, due to not realizing or acknowledging why Kim Dokja's face is "censored" in the first place, and what that censoring actually means. I think it's also possible that some people are assuming the censorship works like a physical phenomena rather than an altered perception.

I'll address that last point first. The censorship of Kim Dokja's features is not something as simple as a physical phenomena. It's not a bar or scribble or mosaic over his face. If that were true it'd be very obvious to anyone looking at him that his face is hidden. But his face is not hidden to people. They can look at him and see a face. If they concentrate on his eyes, they can see where he's looking. They know when he's frowning or grinning. They see a face loud and clear. But what face are they seeing? Because it's not really his, whatever they're seeing.

No one quite agrees on what he really looks like. And if they try and think about what he looks like, they can't recall. Or if they do, it's vague, or different each time. We notice these little details throughout the series. Basically, Kim Dokja's face is cognitively obscured. Something - likely the Fourth Wall, though I can't recall if this is ever stated outright - is interfering with everyone's ability to perceive him properly. This culminated in him feeling off to others; and since they don't even realize this is happening, they surmise that he is "ugly."

Moving on to the other point about what the censorship means: To be blunt, the censorship of his face is an allegory for his disconnect from the "story" (aka: real life, and the real people at his side). The lifting - however slight - of this censorship represents him becoming more and more a part of the "story" (aka: less disconnected from the life he is living and the people at his side). The censorship's existence and lifting can represent other things - like dissociation or depersonalization or, if you want to get really meta, the fact that he is all of our faces at once - but that's how I'd sum up the main premise of it. (The Fourth Wall is a larger part of the dissociation allegory, but that's for another post).

So you see, them noticing his individual features isn't about the features. It's not about the features! It doesn't matter at all which features got listed. Because they could describe any features whatsoever and it would not change the entire point of the scene. Because the point isn't what he looks like. The point is that they can truly and clearly see these features. For the first time. They are seeing parts of him for the first time. Re-read that sentence multiple times, literally and metaphorically. What does it mean to see someone as they are?

This is an extremely significant turning point dressed up as a dress-up scene.

---

P.S. / Additionally, I'm of the opinion that Kim Dokja is not handsome, and he is not ugly. He is not pretty, and he is not ghastly. Not attractive, nor unattractive. Kim Dokja isn't any of these things. More importantly, Kim Dokja can't be any of these things. The entire point of Kim Dokja is that you cannot pick him out of a crowd; he is the crowd. He's a reader. He's the reader. Why does he need to be handsome? Why must he be pretty? Why is him being attractive necessary or relevant? He doesn't, he doesn't, it's not. He is someone deeply deeply loved and irreplaceable to those around him, and someone who cannot even begin to recognize or accept that unless it's through a love letter masquerading as a story he can read. He is the crowd, a reader, the reader. He's you, he's me. He's every single one of us.

[appeypie]

lol sword drama....

[petrichorium]

Shanks like never gets jealous he simply isn’t the type esp not when it comes to his crew and their treatment of me BUT the one time he genuinely gets spun up enough that we can all feel his haki building is actually right before our elopement bc Beckman gets me a little cotton sundress to wear just like from a random shop on the island and it flatters me So insanely well and the fit is So perfect that Shanks is immediately like hey Beck? Why do you know her exact measurements and the style that would look best on her like what the fuck’s up w that—

[wiredalienvampire]

soulstorm au where everything is the same but the brewmaster is still French 🇫🇷🥖🥐🍷

[kismetmoon]

they’re gonna execute the Mother to elevate the Man

[ID: a digital painting of an original stylised Flatland character, referred to as Mother.

Mother is a humanoid character with dark grey skin, clawed blurry disembodied hands and a sharp point on top of her head.

She has a light grey veil-like covering over her face, which also drapes down her back. The veil has a circle marking in the centre. She is wearing a long grey dress with long angel sleeves that end in ruffled cuffs and a skirt that rests on the floor, a dark grey sash around her waist and a dark grey pelerine.

She is facing directly forward, with her arms held out to her sides and her hands splayed open. She is stood in a white arched doorway above a light grey floor with a large dark red circle behind her head, akin to a halo. The light from the doorway is illuminating the surrounding pitch black space. There are two thin trails of blood coming from under the veil that go down her neck and onto her pelerine.

End ID].

additional shots including the initial rough draft and plain line work that i like under the cut <3

[ID: three images that show the same illustration as above, but with as different versions. The first image is the uncoloured line work version, the second is a rougher sketch version with a dark grey background and white star-shaped halo, and the third image is the exact same as above but Mother is farther away. End ID].

[theloveinc]

I also like the idea of Bakugo having a lil crush on Kirishima’s secretary. He’s somewhat formal with his own staff, so seeing how sweet you are to Kiri when you pat his shoulder when you drop off papers, or he to you when coffee is ordered just gets him so… flustered and itchy under the collar. Not knowing how to feel.

Bakugo doesn’t even realize it’s jealousy at first, and especially not when he has an interview planned with Kiri, and you’re there too, being just as kind to him as you are to your own boss.

[pup-pee]

yes kyle we know

JLA ((1997)) issue #40

[erizee]

the first half of rrr is just bassboosted naakosam nuvvu from magadheera send post

[deus-ex-mona]

when the lip differs from the lip

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Breath of the Sky Ch 12 (Skyward Sword meets BotW)

Summary: When Princess Zelda goes to the Spring of Courage to pray, accompanied by her appointed knight, a giant magical cog spitting out a goddess is the last thing she expects, but it is what she gets. Meanwhile, the Spirit Maiden Zelda is trying to figure out what the heck is happening and where her missing chosen hero is.

(AO3 link)

Chapter 11: A Goddess' Promise

The crisp breeze and bright sunlight cut through the air in the outdoor corridor of one of the courtyards as a royal guard passed through it. He was doing his usual morning rounds, patrolling from station to station, checking in on the others and ensuring the safety of the castle. With the ever-growing ominous shadow of the oncoming Calamity, security had steadily grown tighter, but now that such esteemed guests were housed here, it was all the more paramount.

A familiar whirring noise emitted from the courtyard, and the guard glanced outside, squinting against the sunlight. Guardians were twittering, their blue eyes swirling like a whirlpool as they skittered to and fro, testing their legs. Their claws, sharp and heavy, dug into the earth, much to the local gardener’s dismay, who gestured his displeasure towards the Sheikah technicians. The guardian flopped unceremoniously on its large base, legs sprawling out lazily at the Sheikah’s command so it would cause less damage.

Abel marveled at it. Such technology was astounding. To think the Sheikah had made this mechanical creature ten thousand years ago, and they could still revive it. Knowing they would have a veritable army of mobile cannons brought him some peace; he and his men were more than willing to fight the Calamity, but it was foolhardy to not utilize all available resources.

Such as their guests.

Then again, the captain of the royal guard supposed, perhaps Hylia and her Legendary Hero were here for other reasons. Though they did petition for their help. Though…

Honestly, he couldn’t help but wonder. With the way the two had behaved in Castle Town that night… with the questions they had asked… with the way Hylia bounced around the castle hallways with Link in tow…

Abel looked away from the guardians, doubt filling his heart, and he felt unsure over it all. The goddess had always protected and watched over Hyrule, and he knew she had heard his prayers time and again. The fact that his wife hadn’t died all those years ago from that terrible illness had been a testament to Hylia’s grace and love. But the girl whose smile shone like the sun was not quite the picture he’d been painting in his mind, and certainly not the one carved in stones across the country.

He had honestly been tempted to pray about it, but it seemed too strange now. Would the girl hear him? Perhaps he should test the theory.

Of all the prayers he could come up with, though, the only one that truly sank in his mind heavily was for Link’s protection. The image of Hylia dragging him around by the hand was both reassuring and… disconcerting.

After all, she had already claimed a Hero in every way possible. She had created a Hero. Had… what did she want with Link? Yes, he was chosen by her, but…

Abel bit his lip, resuming his walk, nervous energy driving his feet and body to move.

The stories told that Hylia had created a Hero and taken a mortal form, creating the royal bloodline. Perhaps… perhaps this was Hylia from the past, then, rather than the goddess in the current time, and therefore she didn’t know about Hyrule or its sufferings.

Would that mean there were two Hylias right now? One in mortal form and the one Abel had been praying to?

The whole affair was otherworldly and bizarre, and that was far out of the captain’s comfort zone and understanding. He was a simple man, admittedly – he understood his duty, the need to protect Hyrule and its people, the importance and honor of such a task. He’d instilled that into his son as well. Anything beyond that… the matter of the divine, of magic and technological wonders from an ancient past… well, frankly, it consisted of matters that he had little knowledge of. Hylia had heard his prayers in the past, so why could she not hear the princess? Was Her Highness doing something wrong, or did Hylia wish for another path to be taken instead? What of Link and his destiny? Everything had been going according to plan for his son, honestly.

Until all of this had happened, at least.

But perhaps Hylia and her hero’s appearance were a blessing. He was sure they had to be – what else would they indicate?

But the way they behaved… they acted like carefree children running through Hateno while avoiding farming chores.

Was it sacrilegious to think such a thing? He wasn’t being struck down, so he had to assume it wasn’t that bad. Abel found himself wishing he had a better frame of reference to work with, but there was no frame of reference for the divine. He was no sage, no royal advisor, no Sheikah. He was simply a knight who was trying to fulfill his duty.

Logic demanded answers, but duty demanded other obligations. Worry demanded assurances, but rules demanded silence. He could keep an eye on his son and ascertain what he could from a distance, he supposed. His duty did involve protecting the royal family – the king had ordered that obviously it extend to the goddess as well.

Abel did wonder what kind of protection a goddess could possibly need, though. She looked young, but even so, she didn’t look frail. Rumor had it she even drew a sword upon her arrival. And today she wore armor.

He turned the corner and froze.

The courtyard was encased by four outdoor corridors, windowless openings to the outdoors allowing the scent of morning dew to waft into the stony area and hover in the arched ceilings. Ivy grew along the sides sometimes, curling around the framework of the architecture and providing the occasional shade from the morning light.

Apparently, it could also hide a legendary hero fairly well.

While Hylia had been running around with a skip to her step with Link at her side, the Hero of Myth and Legend was seemingly brooding in the shadows. The young man—boy, really, but Abel wasn’t sure if that mattered—watched the guardians tiredly, shifting in a similar fashion to the mechanical beasts as if he were too restless to stand still.

This was not the goddess. Abel didn’t have to kneel before him. But he was a mythical figure nonetheless, was he not? The king’s advisors did not give any information on protocol for this matter. Then again, he had spoken with both of them the night they had run amok in the city.

Yet another example of how nothing quite seemed to fit in place.

Perhaps their godly ways were just beyond his comprehension, but… they just seemed like kids to him. No different than how Link had been before the impending Calamity had molded him into the silent, stoic young man that he was now.

Abel wondered how this Hero could be so different. After all, he was created by Hylia for the sole purpose of eliminating the Calamity, was he not? If Abel recalled the mythology correctly, he had originally defeated it, even before the Ancient Hero of ten thousand years ago. He was the Spirit of the Hero, the legendary figure that imbued the current Hero with his strength and wisdom. Some said that the Spirit would possess the new Hero when the time came for battle. Others said he reincarnated and lived the Hero’s entire life. Abel’s wife had fretted over the matter when the boy had first drawn the sword.

It’s not a possession, Abel had assured her. He is simply guided by the goddess and protected by the Hero of Myth.

Not that he actually knew that for certain, but it made more sense than a possession. Perhaps it was reincarnation, but that thought—the idea of raising a legendary hero who had been created by Hylia—had frankly been too terrifying to contemplate, and so he pushed it aside. Abel said his prayers and honored the goddess, but unless he had some kind of actual proof on the matter, he wasn’t going to accept most of the far-fetched beliefs people spread on the matter. He had tried to look up as much as possible on the Hero once his son had come into his sight wielding a sword from legend, but there unfortunately wasn’t much to research beyond hearsay.

That aside, though, the character of this Hero was a mystery to him. He didn’t particularly care for pondering how everyone’s minds worked, or their hearts on matters – that was his wife’s preference. But he did want to know more about this Hero, this Link, the original Link.

More to the point, he wanted to know why he was here. He wanted to know what his plans were with his son.

The real matter, he supposed, was how he went about figuring that out. Although this person was not the goddess Hylia, he was her creation, an immortal being forged from Light and Sky, born of the clouds and imbued with an unbreakable power to fight an unbeatable foe. Ancient and immovable, such a being should—

Abel bit the inside of his cheek, brow furrowing. Such a being shouldn’t be playing with puppies while sending the entire castle into a frenzy because he busted out of a room through the window. Such a being shouldn’t be bedridden and writhing in pain and delirious with fever, clinging to Abel’s arm for comfort because he didn’t even know what was going on as the healers attended to him.

Honestly… it was… he didn’t know. He should keep his head down and not ask questions.

Let’s see how much I can push my luck.

He really shouldn’t. That wasn’t his duty.

But Link is.

Link was fully grown, though young. He could take care of himself.

He’s still my boy, though.

Abel sighed. Then he walked forward. “Can I assist you with something, Hero?”

The ancient one jumped, startled, and looked at him with wide eyes. Abel tried to ignore the fact that he looked so incredibly young.

He looks like he’s Link’s age.

Were all heroes this young when destiny called them? Abel knew the goddesses would protect them, of course, but… why? Muscle and bone were young and supple and strong, but the mind… Abel recalled his first battle against beasts when he was barely sixteen, and he recalled the absolute terror of it. Perhaps… he supposed it was a frightful affair no matter the age, though by this point he was far more accustomed to it. Bokoblins were hardly a threat to him – about the only beast that made him nervous was a hinox or a lynel.

And those blasted taluses. He’d yet to best one of them, though he’d heard that Link had managed to do so. It made him swell with pride at the thought of it. But that wasn’t being addressed at the moment.

Hylia’s Immortal One watched him a moment longer, seeming to get his bearings, and he looked back outside, shaking his head.

The pair stood in silence for a while, and Abel was painfully reminded of his own son. An unsettling feeling pulled at him, whispering maybe your boy is actually the same as this one, and he shoved it down so hard he felt his body grow cold.

Well, if there was something to be taken from this, it was that he was certainly accustomed to silence. He took another step forward.

“Is something wrong, Hero?”

The ancient one’s eyes looked at him, seeming haunted and exhausted. Abel swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. Perhaps he had grown too bold. His anxiety only increased when the Hero faced him fully and didn’t say a word, eyes piercing into his own.

Abel took a less assertive posture, stepping back a hair and clasping his hands behind his back.

The Hero sighed, eyes tracing to the floor. “I didn’t want this.”

Abel blinked. He… what?

“I’m sorry,” the Hero mumbled. “I’m wasting your time.”

With that, he sighed again and turned back towards the window, hands settling on its rim as he watched the guardians once more. Abel looked between him and the machines uncertainly. Should he pursue the matter, or was this a dismissal? This felt very much like a dismissal. He’d dealt with diplomatic situations enough to know.

Abel opened his mouth to speak and found himself losing his nerve. This went against everything in him, pushing beyond necessary, questioning a superior, conversing with someone so entirely out of his station. He bit his lip and turned to walk away, gaze lingering on the seemingly forlorn legend.

Well, this left him even more bewildered and concerned. Great.

As he reentered the castle proper, he nearly ran into someone else, though he could hardly blame himself for it – Princess Mipha’s small steps were so quiet they were practically silent.

“Your Highness,” he acknowledged with a bow.

“Oh! Sir Abel!” Princess Mipha gasped and then smiled. “How are you? I didn’t get to see you at the festival, but I imagine you must have been busy.”

“Quite busy, Princess,” Abel replied with a small smile in return. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many people gathered in one place.”

“I’m glad it all went smoothly,” the Zora girl said genuinely. Abel relaxed under the kind princess’ gaze – he’d known her since she was a child, and she had one of the kindest hearts he’d ever seen. He almost felt like he could act somewhat naturally around her, but he still recognized he was just a simple knight and she was royalty. For her part, Mipha was used to leading conversations in general, and so she continued, “Have you… have you seen Link? We were sparring and things… well…”

Abel’s smile vanished in an instant, and the princess hastily threw her hands up to deter his worries. “Oh! Oh, no I—nothing went terribly wrong, I assure you, but—well, we ran into the Hero of Myth, and it was quite the ordeal.”

Oh?

Abel waited patiently to see if the princess would privy him to what she meant, and she obliged, explaining, “Well, you see, when we saw him, we of course went over to him, but he suddenly got quite ill. I went to fetch some water for him, but by the time I was back they were both gone. I’ve been looking all over, I wanted to make sure they were alright. Have you seen either of them?”

What a strange morning this was turning out to be.

“Link is with Her Grace,” Abel answered. “The Hero of Legend is outside in an adjacent corridor.”

“They—Link’s with the goddess Hylia?” Princess Mipha gasped. “Oh, my. That’s… that’s quite an honor!”

“Yes,” Abel answered neutrally, his eyes scanning the cavernous hallway.

“Sir Abel…”

The hesitancy in the princess’ voice made him look back at her. She wrung her hands nervously, as she often was wont to do when with people she trusted. It was a testament to their own relationship that she acted this way in front of him – she was the picture-perfect princess in public, usually. Abel felt his heart warm a little, as well as feeling strangely privileged and a little unsettled. The Zora certainly were more casual than Hylian royalty, he supposed. King Rhoam would never act this way around him, despite having known him for years.

Then again, Link and the Zora princess were friends.

“What’s the matter, Princess?” he prompted, his tone softening.

“Do…” Mipha spoke hesitantly, quietly, as if discussing a secret. “Do you really think they’re here to help us? I… I do believe it. But Link… he… he seems so uneasy about it. I don’t understand what’s wrong, but something most certainly is.”

It was honestly hard to tell if anything bothered Link anymore. Abel certainly wasn’t good at reading him these days. The boy used to be very open, but maturity had tempered that. Abel was a little glad for it, honestly, as it would assist him in handling the matters he was thrown into, but…

Well. He supposed it was expected that a parent would be sad to see their child grow up. He just hadn’t expected to feel so utterly useless to the boy once he did.

“What makes you say that?” Abel asked, crossing his arms unknowingly.

“He was so distracted at sparring this morning,” Princess Mipha said. “And at the party… well, he seemed a little happy, but he mostly just seemed overwhelmed. I suppose that’s reasonable; as you said, there were many people there. He was probably as on edge as you were, Sir Abel.”

On edge was one thing. Losing focus in a fight was another matter. Abel would have to find Link, but… that meant he would have to find the goddess as well. And he had a castle to protect.

At least one thing was for certain – if the Hero of Myth and Legend had gotten ill earlier in the day, that meant protecting him was higher on Abel’s priority list. Which meant that keeping an eye on him was on his priority list. And perhaps figuring out what was going on.

“If I see him, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him, Princess,” Abel finally replied with a bow.

XXX

Zelda had to admit, she hadn’t felt this anxious and jittery in a long time.

Sure, her journey in reviving her memories of the past had been a lot, but it had been beautiful and fun as well as overwhelming. The farther along she’d gone, the harder it had gotten, but it had never felt so… out of control? After all, the more memories she got, the more things fit into place rather than made less sense, even if it was…

Well. It had been out of control, in a sense. She’d set all of it up, but had forgotten it, and suddenly she was losing herself to… herself.

It still didn’t make sense. It was still uncomfortable and confusing. But at least it had been planned.

As she wandered the halls with the knight from the future, she found herself getting gnawed away by worries over how to handle this situation. But she also was jittery with excitement, rather like she had been on her journey. New places to explore, new people to meet, a chance to help this Link and the princess, a chance to kick Demise’s ass once and for all… but with absolutely no plan in place.

Well. At least not one she’d made. The king seemed to have a plan.

All Zelda knew of that plan was that the princess was supposed to seal away Demise as she had. Not kill him. Seal him. Was this why he kept coming back? Had no one else tried to kill him? What about the Triforce? Where was it?

She shook her head. Maybe she could just help the princess with sealing Demise away and they could figure out the rest after. The reassurance from the knight beside her earlier had been helpful, had calmed her nerves, had reminded her that despite the difference circumstances, she wasn’t alone.

And it wasn’t like she hadn’t done this before.

So instead, she took a deep, calming breath, and tried to focus on the people around her. She wanted to get to know them, this new hero, her family. Why had Fi chosen another Hero, anyway? Zelda only remembered… choosing Link.

This one was named Link too. That still bothered her; it was like the goddesses were trying Zel—Hylia’s plan, over and over until it could actually work.

She was changing that. These two new people weren’t just—just replacements.

“I guess we’re going to have to make up nicknames since we all have the same names,” Zelda surmised aloud as she and the knight walked. “It’s only fair that we all do it. Not sure what to call myself, though. What about you and my Link?”

The knight shifted uncomfortably.

“Oh come on now,” Zelda prompted with a smile. “You’re not going to upset me.”

“Maybe… Cloud? For your Hero?” he offered quietly.

Zelda felt absolute delight radiate through her. “That’s perfect! He adores the skies, and he’s the reason the cloud barrier’s gone.”

Not to mention he was an airhead, so it worked twofold. Zelda laughed out loud.

“So how about you?” she continued.

“Whatever suits Your Grace,” the knight answered, looking towards his feet as he walked.

Zelda pondered it for a second. If her Link was of the sky and the clouds, then this one was of the soil and the earth. What nickname would work? The idea of Kikwis popped in her head briefly, but she had to stop herself from laughing – this poor boy was insecure enough, she doubted naming him after soft, cute, little creatures would be appropriate.

As she debated the matter further, though, something suddenly snapped in her mind, a cold, shuddering, sinking feeling, like an ice dagger that stabbed into her heart and bled into her stomach, spreading frigid poison throughout. She stopped dead in her tracks, surroundings forgotten, breath stolen away, eyes wide, lost in the pain and panic of the sensation.

The temple was in ruins, the land scorched. She walked over the dead, blood dripping down her arm and off her sword.

He laughed. Cruel, heartless, gleeful. He wasn’t just causing all this destruction; he was enjoying it.

She—he—

It was cold wherever this was. Her body ached, landing barely cushioned by the flora, by her desperate attempts to make a sailcloth out of her now torn dress.

She hadn’t expected the cold. She hadn’t expected any of it. But her bones froze, her heart fluttering with terror, something so innately wrong permeating the air.

She heard footsteps stop beside her, and the quiet knight gently prompted, “Your Grace?”

The knight. Link. Zelda gasped, breathless, and turned to him with a startled twitch in her step. If he had spoken up to get her attention, she must have been zoned out for a while.

But what had—what was—

“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I… we were looking for the princess, right?”

Zelda walked ahead without waiting for acknowledgement, without even really knowing where she was going. That feeling – she hadn’t—she hadn’t felt that since—since the Sealed Grounds.

Surely—Golden Three—

The king had already confirmed it. She’d known it. She’d known.

It didn’t make the sensation any better, it didn’t eliminate the fear, the sheer horror. That monster was not only still alive, but he was breaking the seal. It had to be close if she could sense it – but where? They weren’t at the Sealed Grounds anymore, right? The Gate of Time had led to a place that looked eerily like one of the springs she’d visited.

But the Gate had never been at the springs. So what…? Was the castle built over the Sealed Grounds??

No. No, no, no. They wouldn’t. That seemed… too strange, too wrong. They would make a fortress around the seal, not a city full of innocent people. Zelda blinked the images of bodies away, of fallen men, women, and children, of those slaughtered by Demise’s demons during the war that had nearly destroyed the world.

A sense of urgency filled her, but she didn’t even know where to place it. A plan, a plan, they needed a plan.

“My daughter is destined to seal away the Calamity as you once did.”

What part had gone wrong?! How was he still alive when the Triforce had killed him in the present and Link had done so in the past?! Link had killed him – Zelda’s soul had been freed, which meant that there was no way he was still alive. She hardly remembered the possession, the awful sensation, but…

She’d have to talk to Link to figure out what had truly happened. He’d never spoken of it.

Either way, if the princess was supposed to seal Demise away as Zelda had when she was Hylia…

But she’d… she’d died doing that. She’d been mortally wounded, so she guessed maybe it wouldn’t be that bad, but…

Zelda turned corridor after corridor in a mild frenzy, not looking where she was going, until she nearly ran face first into a colorful chest plate.

Gasping, she stumbled back a little, just as she got a full view of the person. It was that woman from the festival – one of the champions. The woman bowed before her. “Your Grace.”

“H-hi,” Zelda stuttered, regaining her footing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—do you—do you know where the princess is?”

“I believe she’s in her quarters,” the champion replied. “I trust Link can show you the way.”

Right. She’d been ignoring the poor knight. She looked at him now, waiting for him to lead. He seemed to take the hint, though his neutral façade was half crumbled as his eyes watched her with worry. She brushed by the champion as the pair moved on.

Champion. Champion.

That Urbosa woman was a champion of her people. The others had been introduced as champions as well, including this Link. They were champions, chosen or proving themselves to be worthy to fight against Demise.

They were preparing for a war. A war Zelda had seen as Hylia, a war she and Link had helped prevent to save Skyloft and everyone on the Surface.

A war repeated over and over.

The poisonous ice that had frozen her before was long gone, but she wished nothing more than to latch on to it and use it as a rope to trace back to its source. She wished nothing more than to walk into that abyss alongside Link and stab Demise in the throat.

“Champion,” she said softly.

The knight paused, glancing at her.

She looked at him, eyes filled with fire. “That’s your nickname. Because that’s what you are. A Champion for Hyrule. We all will be. I promise you that.”

The fire slid out of her easily, though, remorse and fear intermingling in the void created from its loss. She hugged herself. “Come on. Let’s keep going.”

It didn’t take long for them to get to the princess’ quarters again. The cheer and mischief from earlier long forgotten, the room feeling empty and uninviting. The princess was in a pretty blue dress, far less disheveled than before.

“Your Grace,” the princess acknowledged, though there was a touch of a blush to her cheeks as she and the knight—Champion—pointedly ignored each other.

“Where’s Link?” she asked, eyes searching the room. She’d figured the pair would have still been together, and she wanted to talk to him about what she’d sensed.

“He… he left a little bit ago. I thought maybe he was looking for you. He didn’t say where he was going.”

Great. She’d lost him again in this enormous place. Was this how he’d felt when he’d been following her? It was beginning to grow frustrating.

Impa’s voice came to mind, reminding her to focus on her mission and not her heart. She could talk to Link later.

“Y-Your Grace, about earlier,” the princess said awkwardly. “I—the Hero—”

“Don’t worry about it; Link falls asleep everywhere,” Zelda interrupted dismissively. “That wasn’t why I was here anyway.”

She really hadn’t wanted to cut right to the chase. How had Impa introduced herself to her? She’d assured her she was safe first. But safety wasn’t an issue here. The circumstances were so different. This wasn’t Zelda falling into a foreign world, scared and wounded and overwhelmed and hunted. This was a princess in her kingdom, in her seat of power, surrounded by protection and loved ones and subjects. Zelda was still the foreigner in this scenario.

She didn’t even know how to approach this.

“Your father… he talked to me about the Calamity,” she tried to start.

“From long ago?” the princess added on. “I… I do have questions about your fight, about the past, about all of it.”

“I do too,” Zelda muttered. “Listen, I—I…”

Great heavens, she did not want to talk about this right now. She didn’t even know how to start talking about this. She wished so desperately that Impa was here. She would know what to do.

It seemed she didn’t have to say anything at all, though. Some kind of realization seemed to hit the princess, whose hesitant curiosity fell into a crestfallen despair.

“My father,” she said softly. “He talked to you, you said?”

Zelda nodded.

The princess bit her lip, looking at the floor. “I… I understand.”

She did…? “So… about the Calamity, then… what’s the plan?”

“P-plan?” The princess repeated, looking up at her with surprised eyes.

“Yeah… you said you understood?”

“Did my father not talk to you about… about me?”

“He did,” Zelda answered. “He said you needed help sealing the Calamity away.”

The princess swallowed, hands clasped tightly in front of her. She looked… well, for lack of a better word, ashamed.

Why would she look upset like that? Sure, Zelda hadn’t been happy at the realization of her destiny, but… wait, did the princess have to seal herself away alongside Demise? But that would mean she was scared, not embarrassed, right?

Wait. What exactly was entailed with this, anyway?

“What does he mean?” Zelda asked slowly. “Back… where I’m from, I… I sealed him away, and Link helped maintain the seal, but… but the end goal was to kill him, not just keep him imprisoned.”

“K-killed?” the princess repeated. “O-oh. Your Grace, I… I don’t… none of us even considered that a possibility. Calamity Ganon was defeated time and again, but… never killed. It’s… not something mortals can do.”

Link would beg to differ, Zelda huffed internally.

“Okay…” she acknowledged uncertainly. “So the plan isn’t to kill him, then… what’s the plan?”

The princess sighed heavily, hugging herself and looking out the window. She was silent for a long time, so long Zelda almost asked again, but she finally explained, “The guardians will help hold the Calamity at bay from the innocents. The Champions will support Link and I… each with their own divine beast. Link with the Master Sword will fight the Calamity, and I…”

“You…” Zelda continued when the princess grew mute. “…Seal it away?”

The princess bit her lip, closing her eyes. She looked on the verge of tears. Zelda felt like she did and didn’t know where this was coming from, but she was going to get to the bottom of it. She looked to her right to see the knight watching the princess with worried eyes. When he noticed Zelda’s scrutiny, he looked at her abruptly, startled.

“Please leave,” she requested. When she’d had to face this herself, Link had been left in the dark until all the pieces had been in place. She wasn’t sure if the situation was the same here, but she didn’t want to make the princess any more uncomfortable than she already seemed.

The champion nodded, bowing, and departed.

Zelda took a fortifying breath, walking towards the princess. “Hey… it’s… please tell me what’s wrong.”

The princess turned away from her, her body rigid. “I-it’s… I… just… I just wanted to learn. I’m… I’m so sorry, Your Grace, I’m so sorry.”

This was getting even more confusing. “Sorry?”

“I tried,” the princess continued shakily, though the more she spoke, the harsher her voice became. “I tried, I prayed, I begged. I—I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong, I—and you’re here, unaware, from the distant past, and I—I thought maybe—I’m such an idiot.”

Zelda’s brow furrowed as she felt her own frustration pulling at her. She took two swift steps to the princess, grabbing her firmly but carefully by the shoulder to make her face her. “Princess, I have no idea what you’re talking about. All your dad said to me was that you were having trouble with your powers and he wanted me to help you. I don’t get where all this is coming from, but I… when I had to do what I did to maintain the seal… look, I get it. It’s… it’s terrifying. I…”

I didn’t want to do it. But I deserved it. And I had to do it.

She… she couldn’t ask that of anyone else. She couldn’t ask this poor girl to clean up her mess.

The princess’ eyes filled with tears, but her face was flushed with something that was far more passionate than whatever had been there before. “Terrifying? W-what could possibly scare a goddess? At least—at least you have your abilities, I—I don’t understand, you won’t listen, or, well—not you, but—well, maybe you, but—”

The teenager let out a growl of frustration, hands flying to her face to hide it and scrape the tears away. She grew rigid in a heartbeat, seeming to catch herself, and stepped back, eyes wide with horror. “Your Grace, I—I’m so sorry, I—I didn’t mean—I didn’t mean any disrespect—”

“Please stop,” Zelda cut in tiredly. “I don’t even know what’s wrong.”

The answer burst out of the girl. “I’m a failure! A princess to a throne of nothing! The entire country is looking to me to be the final piece, the final warrior, to seal Ganon away, and I can’t access my powers to do it!”

…Oh.

The princess fell to her knees. “I—I didn’t mean to yell, Your Grace, I—I mean no disrepct, you—I know you are benevolent and powerful and—”

“Stop, stop it,” Zelda nearly cried. “Stop talking to me like I—”

Like I’m responsible for this.

Because she was. She was.

The princess had nearly curled into herself so much she was practically on all fours. Zelda’s heart was racing. She wanted nothing more than to leave, but doing so now would destroy whatever trust she could build and she knew it. She tired to regain control of her breathing, and knelt in front of… in front of her descendant.

She tried to remember the joy of that thought from last night. She tried to remember the joy that had happened after. She tried to remember the beauty of what came of their settlement they were building, the wonders of the festival, the magnitude of the country. She tried to remember that this was her daughter by countless generations.

Zelda, ancient and young, old and new, couldn’t entirely wrap her mind around it, but goddesses, she tried. She tried to think of the good while her heart screamed, she tried to get herself together when she wanted nothing more than to curl up as the princess had and cry.

“Please,” she whispered. “I’m… I’m not…”

Not what? Not responsible for this? Wasn’t she, though?

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she burst out, her own voice shaking. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Link and I fought him so you wouldn’t have to, the fact that he’s still here—”

Darn it, get it together! She screamed at herself. This wasn’t helping anything!

Zelda reached forward as the princess began to look at her with hesitant curiosity, and she took her hands in her own, feeling the soft cloth of her white gloves under her own calloused fingers. “Whatever’s going to happen, we’ll figure it out together, okay? I… I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t understand what you mean that you can’t access your powers, but… but I won’t… I won’t let anything happen to this place, or to you. Okay?”

Princess Zelda watched her, frozen in place, eyes wide, filled with wonder, hope, terror, hurt, and Zelda couldn’t even read what else. But a dam finally seemed to break, and she hiccupped once, twice, thrice before next thing Zelda knew the girl was sobbing, hands desperately trying to wiggle out of her own to hide her face.

Zelda watched her for a few moments, lost and scared herself, and she remembered that Champion had just given her the same reassurance outside. She felt her heart warm at it. No matter the generations, Zelda would always have Link to support her. But here she could support her own descendant just fine. She reached forward, pulling the princess into a hug, trembling herself but strong enough to bear the grief and terror they both were drowning in.

I promise, she vowed. I promise I will protect Hyrule. I protected this land before…

I will do it again.