#and it can be worn as a backpack! Literally the greatest thing yet

[anglerflsh]

sillytime self sketches + coloring in one of them because luckily my signature Outfit is still wearable in these temperatures

[lesbianrobin]

hello em i have a request. can u please rate mr harrington's looks/outfits i just feel like u have the best takes and i'd LOVE to know how you'd rank his choices 👀

this is the single greatest ask i’ve ever received. i will be ranking the outfits, not steve’s moral alignment or actions in each scene. in order of appearance:

The Introduction

4/10

hair is tragic

steve copied this entire fit from a mannequin in the ralph lauren polo outlet store

would honestly be a 0/10 except for the obvious valiant effort being put forth by his lower half to resist the sexless curse of khaki pants. the devil (st costuming department) works hard but by god steve harrington (joe keery’s body) works harder

nice brown watch that certainly came from a department store

also gains points for being next to nancy’s anemic librarian fit, thus looking better by comparison

The Rich Bitch

8/10

thank god he ditched the khakis

hair looks much less demonic

it’s a simple look but the sweatshirt rides up when he shotguns the beer

he also gets wet

solid 8 for sluttiness alone

The Whore

10/10

wet

please note that his chest is waxed. keep this in mind.

The Heterosexual

2/10

hair looks like he dipped his head in glue

bold choice with the grey pants. unfortunately that choice was wrong

matching outfits with your comphet girlfriend isn’t as cute as you think it is stevie

you only get points because despite that ungodly pastel stripe pattern the polo’s decently fitted and makes your arm look kinda nice

The Dickhead

3/10

glue head pt. 2

at least the stripes aren’t pastel this time

The Cuck

6/10

hair slightly less glue-y

yet another striped polo is peeking out unfortunately

but! it’s green and green looks good on him

finally wearing jeans like a normal fucking human instead of weird slacks

pivotal moment in steve’s fashion evolution from preppy male model to sexy morally upright king

his morals are stored in the denim

The Final Girl

9/10

an outfit with a character arc to rival steve’s own

pretty fucking good hair if i do say so myself!!

it’s fluffy!

that shit looks like if you touched it it’d be soft... no glue here!

finally not copying from the goddamn l.l. bean catalog

iconic green slut sweatshirt? check! jacket and nikes? check! fucked-up gorgeous face and baseball bat full of rusty nails? check, baby!

looks good on its own OR with some blood on top

overall a very solid look

The Darling Little Drummer Boy

7/10

babe no... please don’t go back to the khakis... they won’t treat you like jeans do...

not quite glue head but not his best

apparently steve owns a single green sweatshirt, a thousand striped polos, and one very precious christmas sweater

almost makes up for prep-related khaki crimes by being really fucking cute

The Simp

8/10

glue head is DEAD

further evidence that steve harrington’s entire closet is just striped polos

this is his fifth unique striped polo

most of these points are for the sunglasses and the hair

actually all of these points are for the sunglasses and the hair

he’s finally let go of the fucking pastels thank jesus

and you can’t see it but he did wear jeans with this fit i just forgot to make sure they were pictured and it’s 4:15 am so i don’t feel like going back to remake this collage

cannot tell if this is a lighter blue version of the jacket he wore three times in s1 or if it IS the jacket he wore three times in s1 and the color grading is just that different

either way he loves jackets and i think that’s very sexy of him

The Intellectual

9/10

i’ve been waiting for this one... turn it up!

literally invented vests

excellent hair

loses a point for unfortunately introducing steve’s SIXTH unique striped fucking polo

i can’t see the collar but i know it’s there i know you’re wearing another fucking polo steve you can’t hide from me

can’t decide if he looks gay or just really preppy but either way he’s got some repression going on

still a very solid look

The Oh No Oh God It Hurts I’m Looking Away I Can’t Watch This

10/10

yes that middle picture is absolutely to show off the texture of his blazer and not at all me making sure that if i have to see his heartbroken little face then you all do too

anyways i Know that blazer cost at least $100 like i Know that shit’s expensive

excellent gorgeous soft-looking hair that someone ought to run their hands through but only people who haven’t dated him for a year while pining after someone else

emotional devastation... but make it unbelievably fucking sexy

stevie baby i know you’re a colorful guy but please wear more black

The Meathead Jock

9/10

aw christ whatever happened to standards?

introduction of the blue nikes <3

god his hair looked fucking good here

could have gained that final point by using tube socks with blue and GREEN stripes to tie together the shoes and the gym uniform :/

shorts could be shorter but are an altogether appropriate and enjoyable length

fun sweatstain to customize the look <3

The (is there a word for victim of bullying?) Serious Athlete

8/10

the yellow stripe was more fun

still cute though

The Sudsy Boy

11/10

wet

suds indicate that he’s washing his hair, presumably with faberge organics. is this why he’s being bullied?

steve brings his faberge organics shampoo and conditioner and his farrah fawcett spray to school with him whenever he has basketball practice

steve either has shampoo, conditioner, and hairspray in his backpack at all times, or he has a separate gym bag that’s mostly haircare products

just need to make sure we all know that

excellent freckle showcase

his chest is still waxed. please, i beg, keep this in mind

one of his strongest looks

The Babysitter

10/10

his most versatile look to date

a different jacket than the one(s) he’s worn before but it still has the same kind of collar. steve found a jacket he liked and bought it in at least three colors

the whole thing fits So fucking nicely! shirt, jacket, jeans... baby boy is TAILORED

return of the white nikes with the red check indicate that they are his fashion nikes, while the blue nikes with the white check are his sport nikes. interesting.

this fit lasts like 48 hours and steve simply looks sexier as time goes on which is a testament to its quality as well as his inherent power

every new accessory elevates his appearance. roses, nail bat, rubber gloves, blood, sweat, band-aids, bandana, goggles... each element complements the look in its own way!

an overall win

The Chauffeur

8/10

we can’t really see the whole fit but he’s not wearing a striped polo so i’m calling it a win regardless of what’s on his bottom half

cannot give him a 10/10 though because he might be wearing khakis

red is such a nice color on him when it’s not just from his blood

i lied when i said he should wear more black he should wear more colors

that plain sweater absolutely cost $85 or more

hair looks very nice and soft

excellent look!

The Sailor Man

9/10

very precious

absolutely the best hair i’ve ever seen

baby boy got highlights for his hot girl summer!

bright colors make his very red lips pop

shorts could be shorter

love the little accents! especially the white pockets and belt

excellent color coordination on steve’s part with the blue sneakers (notably different than his s2 blue basketball nikes) and the red bruising/blood

i hope you remembered that steve’s chest was waxed. as you can see his chest is now unwaxed. some change between s2 and s3 drove this decision, presumably either his breakup with nancy or the fact that he no longer showers in front of other guys at school. up to your interpretation

shock blanket at the very end is a nice touch so we don’t forget he’s traumatized

The Drowned Rat/The Man Overboard

10/10

wet

shorts could be shorter

the decision to purchase and wear a hoodless raincoat is absolutely ridiculous and stupid

however it is also very steve harrington and i value self-expression

The Chick Magnet/The Flaming Homosexual

100/10

what can i even say about this fit?

the absolute best pants he’s worn thus far. amazing fit, excellent classic wash. i say this as a former american eagle outfitters associate and the winner of my freshman year dorm’s “best at folding jeans” award

manages to make blue jeans with a half-blue denim vest work effortlessly

bold primary colors make him stand out without being too gaudy

excellent pairing of t-shirt with simple stripes and vest with simple color blocking to create a complex yet cohesive and flattering look

simple brown belt gives the look a put-together yet down-to-earth vibe

hair has only gotten better

still wearing that same brown watch that he’s had since the introduction

this man looks like he waxes his chest

this is steve in his final form

thank you for your time

[theworldinclines]

Title: someone here loves you Pairing: Mork and Pi, Mork and Mueang Nan Summary: Pre-series into episode 1 character speculation Ao3 link

     Mork likes to think that he’s got a skill in reading people. His talents prove handy in pretty much any situation Mork could find himself in, and after years of relationships avoided that Mork could tell would’ve ended on an unfortunate note (romantic or otherwise), he fancies his skills sharper than most others’. Thanks to him, his younger sister had turned down the date of a boy in her class who’d later ended up trying to steal goods from a local shop; and he’d successfully coached one of his old high school friends on how to end a friendship that he wasn’t happy in. So yes, Mork’s fairly confident.

     On the other side of that, whether it be metaphorical or literal, Mork doesn’t like to be under a spotlight. He prefers to be the guy on the sidelines cheering on his friend rather than having to be the poor sucker bombarded by obsessive fans. Mork, in his time as Mueang Nan’s closest friend, has come to see that this isn’t an exaggeration. Mork rarely uploads content on social media, Mueang Nan posts at least one update per day. Mork’s account is private and although he has a lot of followers, he hasn’t reciprocated in kind. Mueang Nan is public and his posts always receive at least 200 comments from strangers, while Mork will get 50 from people he’s spoken to in person.

     He doesn’t fault Mueang Nan at all; he grew up in a remote northern village where he hadn’t had a mobile, barely a television, so for Mueang Nan to enjoy social media to the extent he does is totally fair. Even if he hadn’t grown up the way he did, Mork wouldn’t fault Mueang Nan for something as small as liking Instagram or Facebook.

     It doesn’t matter, at the end of the day, because his well-honed talent has already told Mork that Mueang Nan is a genuinely good guy. Out of anyone, Ai’Nan actually deserves to be as well-liked as he is, and on Mork’s end he’s content to live on the blurred edges of relative obscurity than be made daily the center of a stampede. He’ll leave Mueang Nan to pseudo-celebrity life and remain virtually invisible by his side. That’s ideal, really.

     But a boy nudges his glasses further up his nose, tugging red-bitten lips between his bracketed teeth in a bout of nerves, and within a moment, the fellow first-year knows that if no one else ever knew who Mork was here or anywhere, he’d want this boy to know.

     It’s orientation, as cliché as that may be, where Mork first sees Pi. As a fellow first year, Mork hasn’t met Mueang Nan or really anyone that he’d feel inclined to befriend, and so catching sight of Pi in the crowd of anxious freshers lands a hit square into Mork’s chest. He can’t see his name-tag, blocked in as he is by other students, but to see him here in the sciences is proof enough that they’ll at least share one or two classes.

     And Mork is so happy to be correct. The dentistry student’s name is Pattawee, commonly Pi, and he’s nothing like any crush Mork’s ever had before. He often spots Pi in conversation with another boy, occasions which generally end in elbows thrown into each other’s chests or Pi dragged down into a headlock. Pi’s raucous laughter imprints upon Mork’s thoughts to prompt unbidden smiles from him, and Mork can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed. The boys are obviously nothing more than friends, so Mork wants to hold onto the hope that Pi is single. He keeps a consistent eye on him both in class and out, and never has he seen Pi spend time with anyone else on campus. Whether or not Mork will ever stop being a loser and talk to him before he is taken by someone else remains to be seen.

     Well, they have spoken, per se, though not at any great length. Pi favours the back row in lectures, Mork always sits nearer to the front; and half the time, Pi packs his bag in record speed and is darting from the room before Mork has even closed his notebook. All this adds up to the unfortunate fact that opportunities for Mork to ‘coincidentally’ run into Pi are pretty much nill. The one time he’d managed to run into Pi had been unfortunately literal.

     Mork had been glancing at his phone for the time and it was enough of a distraction that he’d stepped out into the hallway and directly onto Pi’s ankles. To Mork’s credit, Pi had paused in front of the door to adjust a stubborn zipper on his backpack and directly blocked Mork’s path (a miracle if Mork’s ever seen one). Rather than the usual meet-cute a romantic might expect, Pi had spun on Mork with an affronted air and hissed, “You can’t see me here?”

     “You’re in the middle of the doorway!” Mork had pointed out, his mouth moving faster than his brain. Pi snorted and spun away with a glare as though Mork was the problem here, and there ended Mork’s first and thus far last conversation with his crush. That was four months ago in February.

     By the week following Valentine’s Day, Mork begins to suspect that Pi is plotting his murder, as everywhere Mork goes, Pi appears as well. Only at the beginning of this month, Pi’s behaviour would’ve thrilled Mork. But now he recognises Pi’s comments on Mueang Nan’s Instagram, and he can see that Pi’s giddy attention slides right past Mork to Mueang Nan. If he deigns Mork with a look, it’s one of disdain and annoyance, at best. Mork doesn’t have to be a genius people-reader to know that his crush… is crushing on his closest friend.

     Mueang Nan doesn’t know, of course. He assumes everyone is just incredibly friendly, so any special treatment he receives tends to go over his head. Pi’s also never spoken to Mueang Nan in real life, likely similar to Mork’s own inability due to general nerves. It’s sort of surprising to Mork, considering Pi doesn’t come across as someone afraid of anything or wont to give in to anyone’s demands. But for as much as he trails after Mueang Nan (and by extension, Mork), Pi hasn’t yet said a word, and neither has Mork about his true feelings.

     Hands shoved in his pockets, Mork is just entering the building for a morning class when he hears murmuring from a nearby hallway. He pauses in his steps to look and —

     “It doesn’t sound sincere,” Pi complains to himself. “Nan, I know you like choux cream desserts…” The dentistry student is stood there with a box in his hands and talking to the wall. Mork would say that’s the strangest thing he’s seen Pi do, but that’d be a lie.

     Their last spoken interaction hadn’t been the greatest and, since then, Pi’s only ever shot daggers via sneer Mork’s way, his certainty that Mork wants to ‘steal’ Mueang Nan of no help on that end. Maybe choosing to sit back silently isn’t helping either. If Pi already dislikes him so vehemently, what’s a little teasing going to hurt?

     “I know you like them,” he says near Pi’s ear, “so I stole some for you.”

     Mork comes to find within moments that it can go very badly, actually. He ends up alone in the hallway, his handkerchief covered in clotted dessert cream, and asking why luck has screwed him once again. (Probably his attempt at a joke is what screwed him, but he’s going to ignore that for now.)

     Pi is insistent that Mork is out to get him, so convinced as he is that Mork’s goal in life is to destroy Pi’s, but Mork knows he can’t let this go. Pi is already thoroughly blinded himself against Mork to the extent that there’s really no way Mork could tell him the truth and be taken with sincerity. Anything he says is seen as a dig, so how can Mork help if Pi doesn’t trust him? He isn’t about to out his best friend, but Mueang Nan isn’t interested in dating or anything of the sort. He’s always kind to Pi because that’s who he is, and he’s never one to decline a new friend, but… this won’t have the happy ending Pi has been hoping for.

     If Pi continues down this road, Mork knows he’s only going to be hurt and disappointed until the day he’s honest with Mueang Nan and met with the truth of why. And if Pi’s going to be hurt, which Mork would never want, maybe he can put in some effort to… redirect his affection? It’s sort of self-serving, but Mork will say instead that he’s baking two pies with one oven: make Pi like him and thereby willingly move on from Mueang Nan, never having to be hurt at all.

     He recalls Pi’s doe-eyed gaze behind his glasses that morning and thinks that maybe there’s a chance. Once he really knows Mork, maybe he’ll be swayed. Maybe.

     Mork has to give thanks to Mueang Nan’s obsession with posting status updates because tonight’s brings about another miracle: Pi comes to the club. Mork knows he’s there for Mueang Nan, but if he intercepts him on the way in, who’s going to call him on that?

     He hangs back for a moment as the bouncer gives Pi a quirked, disinterested eyebrow. He can’t blame him entirely when Pi’s wearing his shirt tucked in with worn-out sneakers, but as always, Mork finds Pi’s authentic personality charming. He throws an arm over Pi and revels in the feeling of his classmate brushing his waist, again when he pivots Pi away from an oncoming tray of drinks. And there again are Pi’s wide eyes on him, making Mork almost forget that they’re in a hallway that smells mostly of stale smoke and strangers.

     He takes pictures of Mueang Nan and Pi to be helpful and show the latter that he is in support of, not against, Pi’s crush, because that’s the truth even if it isn’t the whole truth. He stands beside Pi at the table; one, because he wants to and two, as further proof that he isn’t the one here with a crush on Mueang Nan. Mork thinks that it’s going perfectly fine until Pi shoots him a look full to the brim with something too close to dejected for Mork’s liking before fleeing the scene.

     He finds Pi in a pile of garbage beside the dumpster, and his heart jumps where it hides behind his ribs. How the hell had this happened in the two minutes Pi had been away from them? But when Mork tries to express his sincere sympathy, Pi just snaps, “You convinced Mueang Nan to take pictures with me because you want people to look down on me!” and Mork’s at a loss. That can’t be possible. Who in the world could look down on someone as unapologetically obstinate as Pi?

     “People look down on you? Who?” Mork asks, sure that if he had names he’d clear up this misunderstanding. If ‘clearing up’ entails his beating them into the concrete and/or possibly suing for slander, that’s his prerogative.

     But Pi just shoves him off and leaves in a cloud of anger, on his face the very hurt that Mork had planned to avoid. Instagram proves Pi’s point to a devastating degree. Pi is seen as pathetic, like he said. Pi. Loud, courageous Pi… who acts out to avoid being confronted as the timid loser everyone sees him as.

     Later that night, his washed handkerchief hanging between his fingers, it occurs to Mork that he might not be as good at reading people as he thought.

     “I’m sorry, Pi.”

[justanotherboyinblue]

weird asks that say a lot

in

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans? coffee mugs! it gives me a weird satisfaction

2. chocolate bars or lollipops? chocolate bars!!

3. bubblegum or cotton candy? not a big fan of either :/

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you? well i’m homeschooled so that’d be my mother the gist of it was that i don’t focus well and get distracted easily

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups? oh bottles for sure cannot tell you why but the old fashioned glass bottles of like pepsi or something? Love Those

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear? grunge i love it has the ‘i don’t care’ attitude basically just oversized stuff and a whole bunch of flannels

7. earbuds or headphones? headphones obviously, i’m a gamer what did you think i was gonna say

8. movies or tv shows? i tend to like movies better, but i do love myself a good tv show i think the pinnacle of tv shows done right is person of interest five seasons, i never got bored, it didn’t drag on, and it was always a good watch with good character chemistry

9. favorite smell in the summer? hmm either chlorine or beach smell because both mean i’m in the water And Ya Boi Is A Water Bitch

10. game you were best at in p.e.? i’ve never had p.e. and i think that’s my favorite thing about homeschooling

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day? i normally don’t, because i wake up 11:30-noon because i was up at 3am and i need my eight hours of sleep

12. name of your favorite playlist? some fucken bOPS

13. lanyard or keyring? i’d think key ring

14. favorite non-chocolate candy? uhhhhh literally all my favorite sweets are chocolate fuck probably cow tails

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment? they all sucked and i rarely read any of them so

16. most comfortable position to sit in? either sitting on my ankle or having both legs hanging over the edge

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes? do flip flops count?

18. ideal weather? like, 75-80 degrees with a cool breeze or alternatively 5-10 degrees with Piles Of Snow Everywhere

19. sleeping position? usually on my left side, or my stomach

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a notebook, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)? i love writing on anything i can get my hands on, most times it’s a notebook i tend to always carry pen and paper with me because i Will Not Remember Anything

21. obsession from childhood? you know how people have like, a timeline in their head of their entire life? i did this when i was this age, etc.? yeah i don’t have that my memories are in a big pile in my head and i have to use like things around me to find out a general age it’s wild so i have no idea coloring? minecraft?

22. role model? any kind person ever

23. strange habits? i only shower at night, and once i get in my room and change into my pajamas i have No intention of leaving so i just brush my teeth in the shower

24. favorite crystal? amethyst? quartz? garnet? idk onlytherealonesknow

25. first song you remember hearing? it was a song that my mother used to sing to my brother and i at night when we were in bed, did you ever talk to God i’ve never been able to find it anywhere, but i love it and it has the Best Vibes attached to it

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather? S w i m

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather? cuddle obviously

28. five songs to describe you? uhh dear younger me- mercyme (Christian) the cult of Dionysus- the Orion experience lucky stars- Lucy Spraggan escapism- steven universe? maybe? sunkissed- Khai dreams???? bro i got no idea

29. best way to bond with you? over shared experiences, or a shared love of something just best way to bond? by relating

30. places that you find sacred? not sure old buildings, sites of historical importance, places marred by tragedy

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names? oh boy here we go my tightest pants, obviously, my heels, and my slutty shirt or my comfy clothes i can kick ass in anything

32. top five favorite vines? i am the sand guardian, guardian of the sand. Posiden quivers before him! fuck off!! *BAM* this is why mom doesn’t fUCKING love you!!! please let this be a normal field trip. with Miss Frizzle?? un-fucking-likely Jeremy eat a snickers. why? you’re not you when you’re hungry. it’s gonna take more than that for my fatass meanwhile, in 1957. your honor, permission to treat the witness as hostile. permission granted. i’m gonna shoot you in the face. that’ll ruin my day

33. most used phrase in your phone? i have no phone but i do say valid a lot because All You Fuckers Are Valid

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head? michigan plumminggggg, we’ll exceed your expectaaationsssss

35. average time you fall asleep? three am

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

37. suitcase or duffel bag? backpack

38. lemonade or tea? lemonade

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie? cake

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school? idk the cat pissed on my brother’s papers once

41. last person you texted? moje rojenia

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets? Hoodie Pouch

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket? hoodie, obviously

44. favorite scent for soap? Manly Smell

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero? mmmmmm sci-fi

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in? long sleeve tee, plaid pajama pants

47. favorite type of cheese? Mozzarella

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be? pineapple i’ll eat you out ;)

49. what saying or quote do you live by? if someone makes you happy make them happier

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have? my mother made the weirdest fucking sound once, and i couldn’t breathe and fell off the chair

51. current stresses? school, driver’s training, some other stuff

52. favorite font? Kristen ITC

53. what is the current state of your hands?  ????? clean?? i have a ring on my right middle finger, some scars on both hands, my nails are short

54. what did you learn from your first job?  haven’t had a job yet

55. favorite fairy tale?  any of the old Grimm’s fairy tales  they terrified me when i was young, but then i got a taste for the disturbed and gore so they became perfect for me 

56. favorite tradition?  my family doesn’t really have any traditions

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?  gaining confidence to not be a complete pushover, quitting self-harm, realizing my first relationship wasn’t my fault

58. four talents you’re proud of having? i don’t  have four talents  i can color really well? i can copy drawings if i look at them long enough

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?  Fuck

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be? something along the lines of kabaneri of the iron fortress or my hero academia

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?  give me something to keep and hold onto forever. let go

62. seven characters you relate to?  uggggggggh bro my personality changes every hour i don’t know  Sam, from supernatural  uh, Klaus? from the originals  ....  yeah that’s all i got

63. five songs that would play in your club?  dangerous- left boy  adderall- Max Frost  sweet tooth- Scott Helman  binary mind- ra ra riot  while i’m alive- STRFKR

64. favorite website from your childhood?  club penguin and jumpstart

65. any permanent scars?  tons

66. favorite flower(s)?  coral dahlias and bellflowers

67. good luck charms?  nope!

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?  quinoa, mustard, and root beer

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?  without saliva your stomach would digest itself

70. left or right-handed?  right

71. least favorite pattern? whatever the fuck this one is

 72. worst subject?  math

73. favorite weird flavor combo?  ranch and any kind of roast

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?  probably like a 7

75. when did you lose your first tooth?  neither i nor my mother remember

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)? Mashed Potatoes Always

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?  strawberries!! they’re yummy and have beautiful flowers

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store? both are gross no thank you

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?  well since i don’t have my license yet, i’d have to say my license

80. earth tones or jewel tones?  earth tones

81. fireflies or lightning bugs? they’re  literally the same thing  are you asking which one i say? if so, lightning bugs

82. pc or console?  both! i prefer pc but a lot of my favorite games are on console and i don’t have a gaming computer

83. writing or drawing?  i’m better at writing, but i love both!

84. podcasts or talk radio?  not a huge fan of either

84. barbie or polly pocket?  i never had or liked either

85. fairy tales or mythology?  faerie* tales and mythology

86. cookies or cupcakes?  cookies!!!

87. your greatest fear?  being abandoned ig

88. your greatest wish?  to live an apple pie life i suppose  my partners and i living in a house we love, in a town we love, with all of our fur babies

89. who would you put before everyone else?  the young if i was in a room full of people, relatives, friends, elders, i would always save the youngest

90. luckiest mistake?  posting my diary on ao3 XD  i met my darling Leo through it

91. boxes or bags?  f....for???   bags are easier to carry, but boxes are just Nice ..... see this is why i think i’m a cat

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?  i love sunlight and fairy lights

93. nicknames?  Q  that’s that’s basically it

94. favorite season?  fall

95. favorite app on your phone?  duolingo or pixel.y 3D

96. desktop background? school computer:

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized? just my mother’s

98. favorite historical era?  anything Ancient  greek, egyptian, incan, aztec, that kinda stuff

[rueur]

Morning Pages (07.01.2017)

Saturday 7th Jan - 6:22 a.m.

I have to tell you that the first thing I did upon waking up was not to open up my laptop and start on these next three pages, but to go outside into the completely yellow living room and watch the sun rising from the balcony. The sky is bright blue near the centre of the sky with a pink tinged skirt running across the horizon. Between this skirt and the sky is the sun, and right now it is large and ethereal: glowing orange and otherworldly. It’s a beautiful morning and I’m thankful for it.

I slept well last night for the most part, but I didn’t sleep for long. I think I fell asleep around 1 a.m. and I woke up naturally at maybe a quarter past six. The cats were here with me. Usually I close my bedroom door and leave them to sleep in the living room, but my room is the only one with a fan of any kind and it was too hot last night to cast them out. Bruno slept with me on the bed, and Romulus parked himself on the cool windowsill, watching the dead streets below. Before I fell asleep, I felt profoundly alone. I called my sister, and then had my parents call me from Sri Lanka. They’re in Anuradhapura right now, on pilgrimage. I miss them a lot, but I’m still eager to make the most of my time away from them here in Northcote. I haven’t really made the most of it yet though, but I’m going to very very soon.

Ikaros and I broke up last night. I called him because I had to talk to him about something he’d done the night before that had upset me, and the call just naturally turned to the fact that we were not working. We were not happy together, and we haven’t really had a lasting sense of happiness for a while. The sex was good, very good even up until the end. I think it may have even gotten better because we needed it to. But he literally told me on the phone that he didn’t even know if he had any desire to be in a relationship with me. And I finally told him that he mostly makes me feel bad about myself. So we decided it was for the best. Honestly, I’ve been feeling without him for a while now, I mean things haven’t been the way they were for a while now. I just hope that he does what he can for himself during the rest of this year. I love him so much. I paused here, a very long pause, just rereading what I’d written about him. I don’t know if I should write anymore, lest I sound vindictive. I’ve been through a lot of emotional turmoil over this past year. A lot of growth too, but there’s no denying that this relationship has taken its toll on me. I entered it very idealistically, and am leaving it optimistically, for the most part. But right now, let’s just say that I love him. And I wish him the best.

I messaged Toni last night, just wanted to talk to her. Malith is coming back in a week or so? I think in under a week now, which I’m looking forward to because he is quite honestly my greatest friend and I’ve missed him. We were going to go dancing before he left, and I am most definitely going to go dancing with him when he returns. I just want to go out! I’m single! I’ve been holding myself back from meeting people and doing things for a while now, and here I am in the inner suburbs of Melbourne, where I’ve always wanted to be. So much is happening around me! Craft stores, op shops, bars that host live music venues every night, Lentil As Anything, enormous multi-purpose park spaces, alleyways, TRAMS that I won’t have to ride for upwards of two hours just to get anywhere worth being because I’m already somewhere worth being. I should be seizing this!

Oh, but today we’re in for a bit of a scorcher. I think it’s a top of thirty-five degrees, so maybe not worth going outside at all today. Maybe to the beach, I think I’d like to take a trip to the beach. But honestly, the last time I went to the beach was with Isaac and he left two or three hours before I finally left. He disappeared off to a ‘meeting that wasn’t compulsory but he felt he needed to attend’. I was then at the beach on my own, which was okay for the most part, but something I’m not very equipped for generally. I like being on my own in private, but going somewhere out in the big, wide world without a friend to lean on has just always been difficult for me. But 2017, I have vowed, will be the year that I stop giving in to my anxiety at least 60% of the time, which I think is a fair ambition for me. In 2018, I’ll aim for 80%.

I think I would like to go out however. I don’t know if I can stay alone in this apartment. It’s too lonely right now. When you’re in a relationship, you can somehow feel a lot easier being all alone because you know that there’s someone out there who loves you and will be with you again and break your being all alone at some stage. But right after a break-up, that knowledge is extricated and you just remember all the times you were alone without that presence of love. I’m alone right now. My parents and my best friend are across the largest ocean in the world, and my brother and sister are four dollars and forty minutes away (train fares have gone up once more in the new year, from $1.95 concession, to $2.05 I think...and I am somewhat broke and unemployed).

I’m not going to wallow in this very very shallow pool of misery though. I’ve already committed myself to indulging my creative side this year and finally getting to know who I am as an artist, so this is perhaps the perfect time for doing some creative work. I’m in an organic state of pain (heartache) and I’m feeling slightly dejected and unlovable. This is the perfect state to write, right? And if not, then I’ll just go to the beach.

All in all, yesterday was a good day despite its ending. The phone call we had was very necessary, though. He was refusing to talk about things, and I didn’t know how to raise the issues that I wanted to raise and we both just kept things inside our heads and when the communication goes, you know you’re at a turning point when you need to realise what the relationship really means to you. I was apathetic. I’m thankful that he was too, in some ways. We were just postponing this. We’ve been postponing it for maybe a year now, to be quite honest with you. This was my longest relationship. Just under two years, maybe a year and a half. July-ish 2015-January 2017.

I know I deserve something better, I do. I’m so full of love and I’ve always wanted somebody to give that to. Someone as passionate as me, who needs the kind of love that I need. But before that happens, I can love myself with that same energy. I think that’s the best thing to do.

One thing I’ve learnt from Isaac’s incessant work ethic is that, it’s sometimes good to stay busy. It’s good to have a period of life where you’re just transient and on your toes all the time (like Toni is going through right now too), where you’re testing yourself and accomplishing great things. It’s nice to have that, but only if it’s a period of time and you don’t intend on that being your entire life: an entire life of chaos and living through one’s work. The day he left for Sydney, I met up with Isaac for about an hour beforehand. He was in a coffee shop, Tomboy, with his enormous suitcase and a worn, brown backpack. On the table in front of him were three bound lots of sheet music for The Mikado, which was going to be his allotted workload during his ‘vacation’. We hugged, sat down, and I watched him order a gluten-free smashed avo, I think. Then he just started venting to me, telling me he’s been really busy (too busy) and that he’s been feeling the downsides to being very transient lately, those being that there are people in his life he just doesn’t see for months at a time because of the nature of his work, and how he can never be in a relationship for this reason. He’s six years older than I am, and to me Isaac represents everything that I can be if I put in the time now. To be quite frank though, he’d accomplished a lot more at twenty than I’m yet to accomplish. And I’ve only got under two months left of being nineteen. And I know that I want my writing to take me around the world; I want to travel for my profession. I want to feel free. Arguably, Isaac is free. He’s living his life the way he aimed for when he was my age. When he’s ready, he told me, he’ll move to New York and set up shop there. Regardless of whether or not that happens, I know that there won’t be anything for him for too long in Melbourne. I have a feeling he’ll just continue to be transient, perhaps not so much literally as figuratively.

I don’t know where my writing will take me, but I’m hopeful. I feel like now is the time I should be looking for some avenue to take once I get my degree at the end of this year, but I’m also enjoying not being busy at all right now. On the phone last night, my sister said that I should be using this time to my advantage, as I’ve been saying to myself as well. She said I’m young and SINGLE and yet to experience so much, that I should just let myself be open to the opportunities that this city will bless me with. I am in love with Melbourne, and my life is at the heart of this city. I want to write for it, and of it. I want to establish myself here and I want my words and my concerns to be shared with and prompted by this city. I feel like I’m not even writing about anything anymore. I know the morning pages are about being honest with yourself so that you can be honest on your working page, and that it’ll be some time before I actually experience this honesty-evoking effect. Perhaps I might not feel the experience at all, perhaps it might just happen one day without my noticing and I’ll just write and write in a way that I’ve never written before and just think I’ve always written with such honesty. Or more likely, perhaps not. My inner censor is too sharp, and I have always been too self-conscious.

[fashiontrendin-blog]

7 Ways To Wear Camo, The Menswear Trend Hidden In Plain Sight

http://fashion-trendin.com/7-ways-to-wear-camo-the-menswear-trend-hidden-in-plain-sight/

7 Ways To Wear Camo, The Menswear Trend Hidden In Plain Sight

Camouflage is one of menswear’s greatest ironies. For a print that was designed to let members of the military go incognito, it’s pretty damn conspicuous everywhere else.

It’s this brick-through-a-window level of obviousness which has made camouflage an unappealing sartorial prospect for many men. In camo you’re pretty much a walking target for judgement, admiring or otherwise.

That said, much like all your other menswear favourites pilfered from the war cabinet camouflage is a stone cold style classic provided that you do it right. That’s where we come in. Here are our seven foolproof ways to don camouflage, which is trending (again) this season. It’s military precision, wardrobe style.

The Camo Jacket

It’s indisputable that the camo field jacket is one of the safest ways to wear the military’s so called ‘invisible’ print. Evidence of this is offered by the fact that it’s been worn by both menswear icons and street subcultures alike – the ultimate crowd pleaser.

“There are a range of interesting camouflage bomber jackets out there which can easily be dressed down and grounded by wearing tones such as black or grey to complete the rest of your look,” says menswear stylist Nas Abraham who has worked with the likes of Mr Porter, Barbour and Gap. “If you’re feeling bold and want to stand out rather than blend in, avoid the bomber and field jacket altogether and instead try a camouflage anorak or longer line outerwear.”

The beauty of camouflage jackets is that they’re foolproof. Anything that could be considered a wardrobe staple will have no trouble getting along with your military-inspired outer layer. A camo parka jacket, for example, will work wonders thrown over a navy suit, while at the weekend, a camo bomber can easily be recruited alongside a T-shirt, blue jeans and white sneakers.

Zara

The Camo T-Shirt

Unless yours is emblazoned with some criminally unfunny tagline, it’s pretty hard to mess up wearing a T-shirt. True to form, a camouflage T-shirt is a doddle to parachute into your wardrobe and is one of the most accessible ways to get to grips with this perennial pattern.

First things first: you’ll need to go logo-free in a T-shirt because camo’s got enough action going on without throwing bold branding into the mix. As for fit, you can either take the classic route: a slim, fitted design, rolled gently at each sleeve. Or, if you want to make things feel more modern try an oversized design to join the streetwear platoon. Though to avoid accusations of being in the throes of a mid-life crisis, take stock of the number of birthdays you’ve clocked up before you attempt this.

Completing the rest of your look is quite literally black and white: a pair of straight-cut black or white jeans (never blue) will do a heroic job of soothing camo’s attention-grabbing nature. Slide into a pair of grey suede sneakers and you’re doing camo without making a big deal out of it.

Pull & Bear

Camo Trousers

Camouflage trousers last enjoyed mass popularity in the mid 90s when it was statistically impossible to find a boyband without at least one member sporting a pair. Since then, they’ve stepped back into their lane and rarely make an appearance outside of war zones.

“Camouflage trousers may not be as easy to slide into your wardrobe as a camo jacket, but this doesn’t mean they are untouchable,” says Suzie Street, a London-based menswear stylist who has worked with the likes of Rafferty Law and Tinie Tempah. “Traditionally, camo trousers most often feature a looser fit but I would advise against this shape: a slimmer, tailored fit will not only be more flattering but it will also be a lot easier to wear without looking like you’ve just exited a 90s rave. Also, be wary of unnecessary embellishment such as zips or pockets as this could be overkill.”

Unlike up top where you’ve got a bit more freedom to play around, you’ll need to be mindful of your camo’s colour too says Street. “Stick with a darker camo print for trousers and pair with a simple white or grey T-shirt, a slick white leather trainer or black Converse for a considered look.”

Zara

Camouflage Accessories

For those closet camo admirers who would rather chew off their own arm than go fully under cover, there’s hope yet. You can try the patchwork print with a judiciously placed accessory.

The beauty of camo accessories is that they work well with practically every kind of ‘fit you can think of. They are a streetwear kid’s best friend: a cross-body bag, cap or backpack offers a hit of urban realness to an otherwise simple (no doubt eye-wateringly expensive) all-black look.

More surprising is the fact that camo accessories are ripe for the picking for white collar workers too. A camo tote is just the thing for sprucing up an uneventful navy suit, while more creative types stand to gain serious swag from adding this hand-held hero to their fallback Oxford shirt, chino and sneakers set-up.

Espionage

Colourful Camo

No matter the season, the lion’s share of camo menswear has stuck to army-fatigue colours: khakis, desert sands and occasionally darker black-ops colour schemes. Until now that is. Spearheaded by luxury Italian design house, Valentino, the print has started trying new colours on for size and the result sits somewhere between camo as we know it and a lurid paint palette. Discretion definitely isn’t the objective here.

With all those colours and shapes on one garment, colourful camo is not the kind of thing you can pick up off the floor and run out of the house in without taking fire (usually from your mates). Extreme caution is necessary. Swerve colourful camo on your legs unless you’re opting for shorts as we’ve yet to see trousers work IRL. Instead, choose a camo outer layer such as a jacket or overshirt which you can slip on over a white T-shirt and blue jeans without feeling completely and utterly ridiculous.

Want something a little more adventurous? Try bright camo outerwear over a classic navy suit for a streetwise (but still smart) wardrobe switch up.

J.Crew

Camo Shorts

Any man who has survived puberty will have worn camo shorts at some point, but it’s a mission that rarely goes well. Camo shorts are a hard look to pull off without looking like that drunk guy at a music festival who’s lost all his friends.

The first things to bear in mind are how much fabric and how many details you’re looking at. If you go in for all those bells and whistles (voluminous pockets, zips) then you give off nutty-survivalist vibes. Tailored camo shorts are a much safer option, again letting the loud and proud print do all the talking. Add a pair of penny loafers and a white T-shirt or knit and you’ve successfully avoided crap camo.

That’s not to say you can’t go for a more battle-ready pair though: just be wary of how much detail is on offer. By choosing large pockets, zips or drawstring hems (but never all three) you can nod to this garment’s heritage without going full squaddie.

Zara

The Camo Shirt

As well as Vietnam veterans, the camo shirt seems to be standard-issue for rebellious teenagers. But wear it without that humblebrag band T-shirt and those scruffy skate shoes and you’ve got a thoroughly grown-up wardrobe addition.

“When thinking of the camouflage shirt, the mind often conjures up images of G.I Joe, but it’s actually much more wearable than you’d think,” says Street. “It can be used as a good layering tool to break up a potentially safe (possibly boring) look. Wear yours open, with a grey or black tee underneath, a simple pair of jeans down below and a lightweight parka on top. It’ll make for a classic yet interesting day outfit.”

In the colder months you’ll need to seek out a thicker overshirt, while warmer weather calls for a lighter cotton design. Not all camo shirts are created equal though, and Street recommends cherry picking from a few select brands. “Carhartt, Dickies and Levi’s always produce a good staple camo shirt, while high-end designer brands such as Valentino and Off-White are championing this print at the moment if you’re feeling flusher.”

Ralph Lauren

[thelastpitchbender]

The Bone Merchant

Summary: When Beedle isn't busy selling quality arrows and insects to the good citizens of Hyrule, he dreams of founding a glorious business empire and publishing a bestselling book. It just so happens that an angry, shirtless kid with a bag full of monster parts might be able to help him out with that.

Notes: A goofy BotW oneshot, written because I love Beedle and because I’m a sucker for fics from NPC POVs that feature Link acting like a total nutjob. Did I mention that I love Beedle? Because I love Beedle.

Read on: FanFiction | AO3

The Bone Merchant

It was a pleasant walk from the edge of the Great Plateau to Riverside Stable, so long as you ignored the monsters.

This was something Beedle was very good at doing. You couldn’t just casuallywander Hyrule for several years without getting good at avoiding them, or sneaking past them, or running away from them. That was no small feat with the amount of goods he was carrying.

Beedle suddenly gasped. How had he not thought of that one before? Coming to an awkward halt, he fumbled around in a front pocket of his pack for his notebook and pencil, then flipped it open to the last page he had written on. He scribbled down a sentence while grinning like a maniac.

Rule #57: Get good at running. Especially with a really big backpack.

Beedle snapped the notebook shut in satisfaction. Beedle’s Guide to Modern Hyrulean Commercewas bound to be a bestseller, once he had the capital to print more than seven copies.

And once he had the book finished. That would also be helpful.

But really, the universal and pragmatic advice contained in the finished product would be invaluable to any traveling salesman –

A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he flipped the notebook back open.

Addendum: Also get good at running with a dumb horse or donkey or whatever.

Yes, that was important. Beedle was somewhat unique in that he didn’t have an animal with him, but many other traveling salesmen did. He thought some more.

Note to self, he scribbled. Find someone who knows about horses and/or donkeys.

Satisfied with his progress, he put away the notebook and pencil.

He wandered down the road with his massive pack, humming an indistinct melody under his breath. It was a little after noon and the sun was beating down on him, but a pleasantly bracing breeze was coming off the Hylia River and cutting across the road. Not to mention that he wasn’t facing that eyesore of a Malice-infested castle, which did a lot to make his day better.

It was a beautiful day, really. There were a lot of people out on the roads, taking advantage of a day without rain. He recognized many of them as traveling salespeople and waved a greeting at them as they trotted by on their horses.

Beedle liked his pack better than horses. It made him look more distinctive and gave him a sort of brand, if you will. He liked to think that one could recognize his beetle-shaped pack even in a Hebra blizzard –

A sudden cacophony of noise sounded behind him. The ground shook under his feet.

Beedle turned around and peered at the ashen cloud cresting the hill he had just passed. Birds flew from the trees, the fluttering of wings fading as they left the area far behind.

Explosions. Probably coming from the East Post Ruins, he mused. Exactly what did those monsters think was going to happen if they kept explosive barrels lying around their camps? He rolled his eyes and kept on walking.

It wasn’t long until he reached the stable. Ember, the owner, called out a greeting from behind his counter. “Good to see you again, Beedle! Hylia knows I need some arrows to fight off the monsters.”

Beedle automatically smiled and waved at him, setting his pack down with a thunk, but beneath his mind was whirring. This stable was never threatened by monsters. Unless… He glanced over at the East Post Ruins a little nervously. He’d heard the rumors about monsters getting more aggressive in the past few weeks.

But regardless of his feelings on the matter, Beedle did what Beedle did best: sell lots of shit.

It was nice to finally sit down in front of his pack, shaded by the eaves of the stable. He folded down his colorful makeshift table, and soon enough the denizens of the stable lined up in front of him to stock up.

The pragmatically-minded bought bundles of arrows (at quite a bargain!) and the adventurous selected from a wide variety of quality insects (very cheap!) to cook elixirs. Well-worn rupees changed hands with one of his trademark excited hoots for every transaction, and Beedle soon found himself in possession of a very small fortune. He grinned delightedly, sifting his hands through the pile of rupees when he thought no one was looking.

Unfortunately, someone had been looking.

“There you are, you greedy-guts!” the Annoying Traveler yelled, stomping his way over from where he’d been in the stable. Beedle suppressed a scowl. That snake.That stupid weedy man with his dumb greasy black hair. Beedle didn’t even know his name, and he was sure the stable dwellers didn’t know it either. All he knew was that the traveler was, to put it nicely, the worst.

The traveler shook a bundle of arrows right in Beedle’s face. One end of an arrow that had snapped off but was now dangling by a thin strip of wood whacked him in the face. To Beedle’s infinite credit, he did not flinch.

Definitely not because the traveler was intimidating. It was his iron willpower. Definitely. It was one of his rules, even.

Rule #15: The modern Hyrulean economy is cutthroat, sometimes literally. Get good at standing your ground.

“I don’t see anything wrong with the arrows,” Beedle lied.

The traveler scowled, which made his stupid face even uglier. “Can. You. Not. See. What’s. In front of. YOUR FACE?” He punctuated this last shout by throwing the bundle of arrows dangerously close to Beedle’s feet. Upon hitting the ground, the bundle rudely broke apart, broken arrows rolling everywhere. Beedle grimaced at the mess.

Thisjerkfaceprobably broke the arrows on purpose, just to demand a full refund.

“I tested them all myself,” Beedle lied again. Well, it wasn’t entirely a lie – he’d once watched his Rito supplier test them. He was very…thorough about it.

“Well, I demand a refund,” the traveler said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Beedle pointed to a small sign at the corner of his table. ALL TRANSACTIONS FINAL.

“They’re broken! They’re defective!” the traveler spluttered indignantly, his face going darker red by the second.

Beedle just sighed. It was too bad he had to follow his own cursed rules.

Rule #2: The customer is always right. Always be a paragon of excellent customer service.

Instead of arguing with the traveler, he rummaged through one of the front pockets of his pack, pulled out an inkwell and a quill, and then grabbed the sign. When he was finished writing, he put the sign back with a delicate yet deliberate motion.

THAT MEANS YOU, DEAR TRAVELER, it now read. Beedle gave him a guileless grin.

Rule #3: If customer service is not enough, strictly enforce store policy. (If you know what I mean.)

Ah, yes, Beedle reflected as the traveler stomped away, leaving the arrows at Beedle’s feet. His book would be quite the bestseller.

The traveler was now sitting by the cooking pot, able to shoot the occasional venomous glare over at Beedle. Ha! If he thought that was going to faze Beedle, Hyrule’s greatest traveling salesman…

Then Parcy walked out of the stable, and Beedle hastily scooped up as many of the broken arrows as possible and dumped them behind the pack before she noticed him. She looked rather severe, but she was much, much nicer than the Annoying Traveler, thank the Goddess.

She finally noticed him and strolled over, and Beedle laid on the charm. “Hello, hello! How’s my favorite treasure hunter doing? Find any good royal guard gear?”

Parcy smiled. “Not yet. Actually though, I wanted to talk to you about these arrows.” She pulled a bundle of broken arrows from behind her back.

Noooooooo, Beedle whined internally. They were actually bad?

“Did you shoot these at something?” he asked.

Parcy shrugged. “I broke a lot of them by shooting at hay targets. I don’t think they’re supposed to be that brittle.”

Beedle grimaced. He would have to have some strong words with his Rito supplier. “Ah. Well. I know I’m not supposed to do this,” he said, voice dropping conspiratorially low, “but I’ll give you a refund. I feel bad about selling things of poor quality, you know?”

Parcy’s gaze darted to the traveler for a brief instant, and Beedle knew that she’d heard the entire exchange earlier.

“I’ll do it because I like you so much,” he said, sending a wink at her.

Beedle was gratified to see a slight blush dust her cheeks. “Oh,” she said. “Well, I don’t need the refund. Can I just get a new bundle of arrows instead?”

“Sure can,” he said, gleefully noting the piercing glare he was getting from the traveler.

Things were going just the way they should be. Beautiful, sunny weather, flirting with Parcy, sticking it to the Annoying Traveler, getting filthy stinking rich –

“Hey, why don’t you put some clothes on before you start shoving people around, you little creep?” Parcy snapped.

Beedle blinked. “What?” he asked, startled by her sudden outburst.

But Parcy hadn’t been facing him. While Beedle had been totally zoned out, a kid had run up and tried to squeeze past Parcy. The kid shot her an irritated look.

That took a lot of guts, considering that he was wearing absolutely nothing but a pair of shorts.

What in the name of the good Goddess Hylia…?

The kid was now bent over and gasping, hands on his knees. He had dropped a suspiciously large burlap sack and a boko bow in front of him. He was covered in scrapes, cuts and bruises. His hair might have been blond, but it was hard to tell, messy and streaked with dirt and soot as it was.

“Mister – “ Beedle tried, determined to seem unfazed. He couldn’t deny service to anyone, suspicious or shirtless as they might have been!

The kid held one finger up while still catching his breath. Beedle waited patiently.

Rule #24: There will always be a customer weirder than you. (Beedle always debated whether or not to put that one in the book, because he couldn’t have potential customers thinking he was weird, after all.)

He finally straightened up and looked at Beedle, who immediately had to choke back a laugh and then feel terrible for having that impulse in the first place. His gaze was sharp, intense, and forbiddingly angry, but the effect was ruined by the fact that one of his eyebrows had been singed off and that he was shorter than Parcy. And also by the fact that he wasn’t wearing any clothes.

The kid seemed to realize that he wasn’t getting the reaction he wanted because his expression shifted into something almost indignant. He planted his dirty, burned hands on his hips and continued to glare at Beedle.

Parcy was backing away slowly, reaching a hand behind her in an attempt to feel out where the stable wall was. Her brows were still furrowed, but she was rightfully being cautious about someone who looked insane. Ember was nowhere to be seen, and the traveler seemed frozen in alarm by the whole situation.

Ah, well. It seemed it was all up to Beedle now.

“I don’t believe we’ve met before,” he said, letting a smile plaster itself onto his face.

“I’m Link,” the kid replied. For a brief moment, Beedle caught a strange look of uncertainty in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly he brushed it off as his imagination.

“Link,” Beedle echoed. “Pleasure to meet you. The name’s Beedle, but you can call me – “ He chuckled a bit awkwardly. “Actually, let’s just stick with Beedle.”

Beedle desperately wanted to give his whole explanation about traveling around Hyrule, even in these very dangerous times, and offering a high price for gemstones, the quality insects, etc. etc., but now really did not seem like the time. The kid – Link – was puffing himself up, like he was holding in a torrential outpouring of words, or maybe just a really, really big breath.

Either way, the stiff, wide-eyed look on his face was funny, and Beedle’s smile grew more genuine again.

“Sell me arrows,” Link finally blurted.

Now this was something he could deal with. “How many?” Beedle asked, leaning forward in anticipation.

Link thought for a second, then answered decisively. “All of them.”

Beedle raised an eyebrow. He kept a list of people who liked to buy up his whole stock of arrows, and he wasn’t sure that Link would want to be on it. “I’ve got…three bundles of five arrows left. Then twenty more arrows,” he said, rummaging around in his pack for the arrows and doing some quick math in his head. “That’ll be…210 rupees.”

Link frowned. “Rupees,” he muttered, looking down at the ground.

“Yes. Rupees,” Beedle said, feeling his smile freeze on his face. He considered himself to be a pretty easygoing guy, but if this kid was trying to buy up his entire stock without actually having any money…

After what looked like some careful deliberation, Link scooped up the burlap sack and dumped its contents out in front of Beedle, who immediately did a double take. In the corner of his eye, he saw Parcy clap a hand over her mouth.

There was a massive pile of monster parts sitting in front of Beedle now. The blocky shapes of bokoblin fangs, razor-sharp lizalfos talons, and the spirals of moblin horns, all gleaming bone-white in the midday sun.

“Um,” Link said, bringing a hand up to his mouth in thought. “How many…?”

Arrows? Rupees? Fangs? Monsters murdered in cold blood? Aghast, Beedle glanced from the pile of bones to the scrawny, short kid behind them, then back to the bones.

Then an idea wormed its way into his mind. A wonderful idea. A glorious, insanely profitable idea.

“Let me sort these out so I can get you your rupees,” Beedle said while reaching out for the monster parts. He ignored Parcy’s alarmed glance in his direction.

Beedle also ignored his vague nausea at the idea of touching fangs and horns from dead monsters, overcome by visions of the fortune he could make. Piles of shimmering gold and silver rupees glimmered beneath his eyelids when he blinked.

Thiswas what he had been missing this whole time, he thought. As much as he loved his insects, the elixir market was in desperate need of sellers. So many missed opportunities to harvest the requisite raw materials just because traveling salespeople weren’t usually handy in a fight, especially not Beedle –

He abruptly realized that Link was now bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, eyebrows drawn together again. “How long is this going to take?” he asked, aggrieved. Link glanced over his shoulder quickly. Toward the East Post Ruins, Beedle realized, suspicion dawning in his mind.

“I’m sure you realize that all these different parts have different market values,” Beedle said with a frown. “I have to sort them out and then do the math.”

Link hesitated, then nodded, but it was clear by the brief surprise on his face that he hadn’t known that before. By Hylia, this kid was a bad liar. What kind of rock had he been living under?

After a couple of seconds, Link glanced up, staring out into the middle distance, tense as a bowstring. Beedle felt a sudden uneasiness sweep over him at Link’s change in demeanor. He couldn’t hear anything. Why –

He couldn’t hear anything. No birds were singing at all, as if something had scared them all off. Had Link…pissed some monsters off? Who were now coming for him? To this very stable?

“Can I just take the arrows now and do the whole other thing later?” Link pleaded, reaching for the boko bow at his feet.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope.

“If you’re going to bring monsters right to this lovely stable’s doorstep, I feel compelled to warn its owner,” Beedle said while lifting up the table in front of him and crawling out from under it.

Link’s eyes widened in alarm. “I never said – “

“You’re a bad liar, kid,” Beedle cut in, not unkindly. “I’ll get you the arrows when I come back out.”

No guarantees on how long it would take him to inform Ember, he thought, twisting his hands nervously.

A quick glance at the counter inside the stable revealed it to be empty. The traveler had fled, too. “Ohhhhh,” Beedle said to himself, quietly, more a groan than his usual declaration of excitement.

How? Why? Just – how? Why did Link have a bow but no arrows? How did he amass such a large collection of monster parts without any functional weapons? Where did all those burns and cuts come from? And why was he running around in his underwear?

Beedle’s private moment of panic was interrupted by a high-pitched shriek of “IT SET ME ON FIRE HELP – “

Beedle froze for a second, somehow thinking nothing but how can Link be on fire? He’s barely wearing any clothes!

Shortly after, Parcy yelled, “Beedle!” She sounded like she was calling for help while staring down an angry lynel. At her shout, Beedle ran back outside and gaped at the scene.

Well, it wasn’t a lynel, but it wasn’t pretty either.

Link was rolling around on the ground, swatting furiously at his shorts. A red bokoblin was looming above him, stamping its feet and shrieking in anger, looking for all the world like a child having a tantrum. It was hefting a heavy moblin club, which was currently on fire, just like Link’s shorts were.

The situation was so stupid that Beedle was immediately irritated rather than scared. For one, it was now clear to him that Link had been responsible for the explosions at the East Post Ruins and that these monsters were angry enough to chase him.

“Is this some new teenager thing?” he asked Parcy, who was pressed up against the wall of the stable and staring at the bokoblin with very wide eyes. “Sneaking into monster camps and throwing around explosive barrels? I bet it’s a stupid teenager thing.”

Parcy ignored him, which was uncharacteristic of her. While still flat against the wall, she slid down a bit and dragged Link’s boko bow toward her with her foot until she could scoop it up without having to get any closer to the monster. “Link!” she called out.

Link finally stopped rolling and scrambled to his feet. Parcy tossed him the bow, and he fumbled at it a bit before it was secure in his hands.

“That’s nice of you,” said Link while ducking under a mighty swipe from the bokoblin, “but I kind of need arrows!”

Parcy glanced at Beedle, imploring, and he groaned in frustration. Math. How was he supposed to do mathwhen a bokoblin was in the middle of attacking his customer?

This wasn’t in any of his rules. Any of them. They all stressed the utmost importance of not being around monsters at any time!

Well, when life gave you spicy peppers. Time to throw the rulebook out, Beedle thought with a huff.

“I’ll make you a deal, Link,” Beedle yelled at him. “I’ll trade you one monster part for one arrow.”

It was brilliant. Most of those monster parts were worth more than a single arrow. Now he just had to hope Link wouldn’t catch on –

“I’ve been asleep for the last hundred years, so I might be wrong–“ The bokoblin smacked Link in the back with its club, and he sprawled face-first into the dirt. “–But aren’t they each worth more than a single arrow?” he finished while rolling away from another strike.

Goddess curse him. He was insane and knowledgeable about the elixir trade.

“The bokoblin horns are only worth 3 rupees each,” said Beedle, no longer feeling bad about watching him get smacked around. “So essentially you would be getting two arrows for the price of one. Can’t beat that deal!” If Link played his cards right, anyway. Beedle eyed the pile of monster parts greedily.

The bokoblin was now straying a little too close to the very flammable walls of the stable, and Link said, “Fine, fine! Give me one!” He snapped his fingers at Beedle and held out his hand, the expression on his face suggesting a mix of irritation and determination.

Beedle deliberately picked a lizalfos talon out of the pile and deposited it near his pack. Ha. That was two and a half arrows right there. That would show him to be rude to Parcy.

No sooner had Beedle pulled an arrow out of his pack and placed it in Link’s hand did Link nock it, draw the string back, and let the arrow fly right between the bokoblin’s eyes. The monster spun around and staggered back while screaming.

Parcy and Beedle both gaped at Link. He moved with a warrior’s grace and brutal efficiency, the likes of which Beedle very rarely saw. He wordlessly held his hand out for another arrow, and Beedle complied, pulling a bokoblin horn out of the pile. Half price for an arrow.

Boy, had he made a mistake in assuming Link was just a short, scrawny kid.

The second arrow hit in almost exactly the same spot as the first and felled the monster. As it vanished in a sickly purple cloud of smoke, Link picked up the fang and horn that was left behind and dropped it into the pile. “There’s more,” he said quietly.

“What, more monsters?” Parcy’s disembodied voice sniped. Beedle looked around wildly before realizing that she had hid behind a crate after seeing what Link could do. “What did you do to them?”

Beedle was about to point out that his comment didn’t necessarily mean there were more monsters coming, but he shut his mouth at the gloomy look on Link’s face.

“For starters, I blew up their camp. But they started it!” he amended hastily, eyes wide and innocent.

Normally that would have been true, but Beedle somehow doubted that Link hadn’t provoked them in any way. “So where’s all your clothes?” Beedle asked, as nonchalantly as possible.

Link had the grace to look embarrassed. “They stole them. While I was swimming.”

“Right. And where did that bow come from?”

Beedle half expected Link to say something like, Oh, I just clubbed a bokoblin to death with his dead buddy’s weapon, then I took the bow, but he chimed in with, “Oh, I had it with me.”

“With you. While you were swimming,” said Parcy from behind the crate.

“For target practice,” said Link evasively.

“In the middle of a river – “ Parcy shouted.

Beedle cut her off before she could strangle Link. “With no arrows?” he finished.

Link’s brows furrowed in faint indignation. “Well, I realized that, but by the time I got back to shore they were running off with all my stuff!”

“I still don’t understand how you thought you were going to be able to shoot a bow in the middle of the Hylia River, but okay,” groused Parcy.

Link ignored her comment, turning to Beedle. “Give me…” He frowned. “How many can I fit in my mouth…?”

It took Beedle a second to realize what had been said. “What?”

“Five arrows,” Link decided.

Beedle decided that it was nothis business to know what sort of weird things his customers were into. He shrugged and counted out five random monster parts (with an aggregate value of…36 rupees, so worth six arrows, his mind automatically calculated).

He handed the five arrows to Link, who promptly tried holding them between his teeth.

“Ohhh,” Beedle said, feeling a bit stupid. What else was he going to do, stick them down his shorts?

He noticed that Parcy was snooping around the crates for something. She was looking for weapons, he realized. He paled.

Parcy hefted a double-headed axe and said, “Hey, Link – “

“I think you should keep that one, Parcy,” Beedle interrupted. “Two people fighting is better than one.”

Parcy glared at him and opened her mouth, but Link cut in. “He’s right. I’ll be fine with just a bow.”

Beedle’s knees weakened with relief and he let out a breath. There was still time to get more monster parts…

“If you’d let me talk, you’d know that never have I ever been in an actual fight,” Parcy grumbled, but she grudgingly held onto the axe. It wasn’t particularly surprising that Beedle had managed to convince her, what with her constantly going on about the royal guards’ weapons.

“There’s more of them coming up the road,” Link suddenly said, exasperation edging his voice. He put the arrows in his mouth again, then took one and nocked it. Parcy shuffled over to where he was, hefting the axe in an awkward ready stance.

Beedle backed up to his pack. Someone had to keep an eye on the arrows and bones, after all.

A sudden faint screeching sounded in the distance, accompanied by dust clouds rising from the road ahead. Beedle shrank back. This went against everyinstinct he had. Don’t get close! Don’t fight them! Don’t die!

Fat lot of good his instincts were doing now, Beedle thought wearily. He absently sorted arrows and monster parts into piles, ready for the inevitable trades. He ignored the way sweat slicked his palms and the things he was touching.

Curse that Link. Stupid kid.

There were now a group of bokoblins running at full tilt toward them. Some were twirling their clubs above their heads, and some were sending very poorly aimed arrows at the Hylians clustered by the stable. There would be a lot of screaming involved in the fight, Beedle thought with ill humor. At least he could brew himself an elixir to cure his inevitable headache with all his own monster parts.

Oh, but his rules. Rule #9: Never get high on your own supply. (He really did have to change the wording there. He wasn’t a Goddess cursed drug dealer, after all.)

“Damn you to hell, Link,” he hissed under his breath in extreme irritation. “If we don’t get out of this, I’m having some strong words with some of my friends. You won’t even know what’s coming.”

The threat hung in the air for a brief second before the first bokoblin reached Link’s firing distance.

Link’s infallible aim got the bokoblin stumbling back, clutching its face, and Beedle had instant second thoughts. Again.

Parcy’s arms were shaking. She shrieked and took a wild swing with her axe as a monster lunged for her. Beedle cringed as she missed and the momentum of her swing spun her around. The bokoblin screamed and hefted its club. Parcy could do nothing but stare in terror. Even Beedle shot to his feet, pulse racing.

The bokoblin suddenly fell to the ground, an arrow sprouting from its eye. Link was giving its corpse a ferocious stare. The first bokoblin he had shot ran at him, and he immediately pivoted and felled the monster.

Parcy was poking at the fallen bokoblins with her axe to make sure they were dead, Beedle noticed with no small amount of amusement.

Then a shadow fell over her, and before he could stop himself Beedle yelled, “Behind you!”

Parcy whipped around with a shriek, and the force her spin gave her axe swing was enough to send the bokoblin flying to the side. Beedle whooped, feeling secondhand euphoria at her victory.

Link, who had also turned around at Beedle’s shout, scowled at him. “Hey, where’s my warning?”

“You don’t need it, pal,” Beedle said, not unkindly, while Link finished off the monster Parcy hit with a well-aimed arrow.

“Sure I do!” Link still managed to sound indignant while ducking under a boko club and edging his way over to Beedle. “I’m fighting with a bow that’s basically a twig with delusions of grandeur!”

Beedle cast a critical eye at the boko bow, which was starting to show the strain of its use. Some bark was peeling off it, and the bowstring was starting to fray. It really was just a glorified stick, wasn’t it? So it would take more arrows to kill all the bokoblins. Oh no.

Link was holding his hand out for arrows. With the practiced ease of a merchant, Beedle scooped up a bundle of five arrows in one hand and five assorted monster parts in the other.

Fireproof elixirs, hasty elixirs, elixirs that renew your very soul and grant you a new lease on life…

Beedle suddenly had to flinch out of the way of a bokoblin’s club. Parcy chased after it, screaming like a banshee with her axe held over her head.

“You go, Parcy!” Beedle yelled giddily. Link frowned at the lack of attention he was getting, but it couldn’t be helped. This was a special occasion for Parcy! It was obvious Link had been in many fights before.

Before long, there was only one blue bokoblin left. It was the one that had set Link on fire earlier, and its club was somehow still on fire. It stamped its feet and screeched at Link, who hopped on top of a crate and yelled back, “I’ll set your houseon fire!”

Eh. Beedle didn’t need any more proof that Link was certifiably insane, but there was some more anyway.

“Do you have any fire arrows, Beedle?” Link shouted. Beedle resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Not because of the question, which was perfectly legitimate. He wished he could carry them, but he was always nervous about putting that sort of stuff in his pack.

No, he choked back a snort because Link was being absolutely melodramatic. If that Kass guy were around, he doubtlessly would have said something about how Link’s shout rumbled with the thunder of vengeance. But really, Link was doing the thing where he was puffing himself up again, and it looked just as stupid the second time. At least he was standing on a crate now.

Beedle sprinted over to another crate on the other side of the stable, ripping a blanket off of it and clumsily tearing a strip as he ran back to his pack. He tied the strip just above the arrowhead, then stuck the end under the still-lit cooking pot for just a brief second.

Ugh, I hope this works.

The strip of cloth was aflame, but there was no telling how long it would take for the flame to spread to the shaft of the arrow. He knew it was treated with some sort of lacquer, but he had no idea exactly how much fire protection that afforded.

Oh, wait. This next part was even worse.

Link had seen what Beedle was doing, and beckoned him forward impatiently. But how was he supposed to get around that big flaming moblin club?

His brief giddiness faded when he realized that now it was histurn to get involved in the fight.

“Parcy,” he hissed.

Parcy seemed to know what he needed without saying a word. She nodded and ran to the bokoblin’s other side, hollering and waving her axe around.

For an instant, Beedle was frozen. The heat of the burning arrow scorched his hand and forearm. Sweat ran down his forehead.

Move.

The bokoblin was distracted. Link was shouting something at him that he wasn’t quite comprehending. The path he needed to run was clear.

Just move, dammit.

He heard Parcy’s scream, and a ball of terror formed in his gut. She had fallen backward and the bokoblin was raising its burning club above its head.

The moment broke, and Beedle ran.

He passed the burning arrow into Link’s outstretched hand and immediately ran back to his pack, gasping for breath and shaking his hand out.

Link nocked the arrow, drew back, and fired. The bokoblin fell forward, and Parcy narrowly scrambled out of its way. She stood up and landed the killing blow on its skull before it could get up.

They all stood there for a moment. Beedle was nursing his hand by his new large pile of monster parts. Link was rolling his shoulders, apparently still comfortable with being nearly naked and filthy, besides. Parcy was staring down at the blue bokoblin’s body in faint wonder. Sweat stuck her dark hair to her face, which was almost prettily flushed. She looked up at Beedle, and he grinned at her.

Link ruined the moment by hopping down from the crate and loudly declaring, “I am going to go find my stuff.”

Beedle could only find the strength to nod before he plopped down by the fire. Hylia, sprinting a little bit and trading for arrows during a fight was exhausting. Parcy clearly had the same thought. She joined him by the fire, letting the bloodied axe thud to the ground.

They sat in companionable silence, watching the sun slowly slip over the horizon and paint Hyrule with brilliant orange, pink, and red. Beedle loved a lot of things about Hyrule, but one of the things he loved most was how the Hylia River became a ribbon of fire at the end of the day. The temperature was rapidly dropping, but it felt strangely welcoming after the fight.

Like most peaceful moments of this particular day, it was interrupted by Link. He was coming back up the road, genially calling out, “Hey, anyone want some food?”

Beedle wanted badly to say yes, but he was momentarily startled by Link’s appearance. He had clearly taken a bath in the river at some point, as Beedle could now definitely tell that yes, Link was blond. He no longer looked so small when he was armed to the teeth, either. He had amassed quite the collection of wooden clubs, along with a broadsword and a knight’s bow, all of which were strapped to his back. He carried the weight like it was nothing.

But Beedle was most interested in his clothes. Not his trousers or boots, which were torn and muddied garden-variety clothes that one could buy at any town in Hyrule. It was his tunic. It was as blue as the sky, and although it looked to be in fantastic shape, the tunic had clearly been meticulously, even lovingly mended many, many times. Maybe by Link himself, Beedle suspected, noting how clean it was compared to everything else he was wearing.

He really did not mean to dwell on the tunic, but it was some of the finest tailoring he had ever seen in his journeys around Hyrule. Rito craftsmanship, perhaps? With a visit to Kochi Dye Shop? Wherever it came from, it had to have been exorbitantly expensive. Beedle leaned forward and eyed the pattern of white embroidery around the neckline with great interest.

Then an elbow caught him in the side and he cringed.

“Stop being rude,” Parcy snapped. “Of course we want food.”

Food. “Yes, definitely,” Beedle said hastily. “Thank you.”

Link merely looked amused. It was amazing what a proper bath and some actual clothes had done to make him look like not a lunatic.

He pulled some foraged ingredients out of his bag – Beedle saw some prime meat, what looked like wheat, and a bottle of milk – and dumped it in the pot, humming cheerily as the ingredients sizzled. Beedle watched the pot closely, suspicious that just dumping it all in would do anything.

But once Parcy emerged from the stable with bowls and spoons in hand, Link’s creamy meat soup was finished. By Hylia, was it better than anything Beedle could ever manage to cook up. Link looked far too pleased, almost smug, about how much Beedle and Parcy were enjoying their meals.

When they were all finished, the sun had almost set entirely. Parcy went around and lit all the exterior lamps of the stable, which cast a warm, golden glow on the cooking pot.

“Sorry I was rude to both of you earlier,” Link said, not quite making eye contact. “I was really hungry.”

“Just hungry?” Parcy deadpanned.

Unexpectedly, Link laughed, and the other two cracked a smile as well.

“So do you travel around Hyrule?” Beedle asked, his curiosity about the tunic still not satisfied. “I wonder why I haven’t met you before.”

“Hyrule is a big place,” Link said, sounding curiously unsure of himself.

Beedle shrugged. “You seem like an avid traveler. Where else would you have gotten all those weapons and that really nice tunic?”

Something in Link’s expression shuttered. The temperature seemed to drop just a touch. Beedle immediately shut his mouth, feeling acutely aware that he had made a grave misstep in some way.

“A friend made it for me,” Link eventually said, staring off into the distance. The look in his eyes wasn’t cold, exactly, but it was stony, intent, and suddenly very, very old.

Beedle swallowed, suddenly understanding. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Link shook his head. “It’s alright. I can still save her.”

Beedle and Parcy exchanged worried glances as Link stood up and began collecting his things. “Wait, you’re leaving now?” Parcy asked with a frown. “We have plenty of beds.”

“I’ve slept enough for a lifetime,” Link said, and his smile was too full of melancholy for Beedle to make fun of him for that statement.

“I’m sure I’ll run into you again on the road,” Beedle said. “And bring me more monster parts next time!”

Link grinned and nodded. Then he waved goodbye and started walking north, along the river. Beedle watched until he vanished into the twilight.

“Goddess, he was weird,” Parcy muttered.

“Maybe, but I get the sense he’ll be a regular customer,” Beedle absently replied. Glancing at his pack, he realized that Link had left him all of the monster parts. He shook his head in exasperation. He somehow didn’t think Link would make a good business partner, but at least these monster parts would get him somewhere.

Suddenly, the Annoying Traveler burst out of the trees, out of breath. “Is he gone?”

“Who, nutjob shirtless kid?” Parcy sniped. “Where were you all this time?”

The traveler gave her a condescending look. “Well, when the kid mentioned that he was leading a whole cohort of monsters to the stable, I did what any saneperson would have done and got the hell out of here,” he said loftily.

“No need to be such a jerk about it,” Parcy was muttering, but Beedle was again concerned with the rise in monster activity. In the day’s excitement, he had forgotten just how unusual it was for monsters to have chased Link all the way from the East Post Ruins to Riverside Stable. There was that rumor he’d heard. Yeah, that the monsters were more aggressive, but there was a reason for it. What was it? Something about…uh…

“Apparently, our lives were in danger because the Champion of Hyrule has ‘awakened,’” the traveler said, with exaggerated air quotes and a copious amount of eyerolling. Oh, yeah, that was the rumor.

“It’s just a dumb story,” said Parcy. She was clearly losing her patience with the traveler.

Beedle agreed. It was a dumb story. The Calamity was dangerous, but only if you got too close to the castle. It showed no signs of budging. If it hadn’t destroyed Hyrule yet, was it reallyever going to?

And the stories everyone told their kids about how Hyrule’s valiant princess awakened her sealing power with her love for her appointed knight was clearly romanticized drivel. No one really believed that the princess was still alive, or her knight for that matter.

But maybe…

Link’s fighting skills were unparalleled, and his tunic certainly befit a Champion of Hyrule.

“What if…” Beedle began, but Parcy cut him off.

“Yeah, I really don’t think so,” she scoffed, but he saw the trace of doubt in her eyes.

The traveler scowled. “Oh, no. No way.”

“That’s what I said– “

The traveler kicked Beedle’s pile of monster parts, scattering them about. “There’s no way that kid could be the Champion,” he furiously hissed. “Master Kohga is going to kill me.”

“Hey, take it easy,” Beedle said indignantly, scooping his fangs and horns up while shooting a glare at the traveler.

The traveler completely ignored him. He walked back into the trees from which he came, muttering darkly under his breath.

“Well, good riddance.” Parcy stuck her tongue out in the direction he went, and busied herself cleaning out the cooking pot.

Beedle just sighed and started stowing all of his new supplies in his pack. His fingers brushed against his notebook, and he hesitated for a moment. Throughout the day, he’d totally forgotten about his rules. Certainly none of them had really applied to Link’s insanity.

Was his guide to commerce just a pipe dream? Was his elixir empire just a far-off fantasy? Everything felt like such a long way off. He felt like he would never be able to write a good book if people just kept showing up and throwing his rules out the window.

And he loved his insects. He hated fighting monsters. Today had certainly proven that. How would he ever feasibly be able to make and sell elixirs? Link was clearly a warrior, not a salesman. He doubtlessly had better things to do than be Beedle’s errand boy and bring him monster parts.

In that moment, Beedle felt strangely lonely. He sat down and pulled the notebook and quill out, hesitating over a blank page. What did I learn today?After a moment, he decided.

Rule #58: Don’t be afraid to adapt to new, bizarre circumstances or realizations.

And like that, Beedle had a new business idea.

Totally unrelated to the notebook, but no less brilliant. If he couldn’t bring himself to grind up his insects, why not have other people do it? Make-your-own-elixir gift packs. People would eat that up.

Beedle grinned and was about to pitch the idea to Parcy when suddenly he spotted Ember almost at the stable, leading a horse loaded with saddlebags.

Ember blinked at the absolute mess the fight had left his stable in, nonplussed. “Um. What did I miss?”