#finally wrote it down lol

[little-cereal-draws]

If Ellen keeps her ability to heat up her skin from the movie, then it’s certainly going to make her fight with Jack interesting, seeing as she was straight up able to melt metal and burn people’s faces off.

In the original plan/drawings I did I was just going to have him grab a baseball bat or smth and use the power of pure rage (and love) to defeat the bad guys.

Now I guess it's a bit more complicated. Maybe he'll have to get creative.

ok here we go:

The fight starts with ted in a cage or chained up or smth like that, Jack being held by the guards, and Ellen up on her big creepy throne. There's a big monster killing machine or whatever she's been working on in the corner.

They talk for a bit and Jack realizes how much she hates monsters, hates herself, and hates ted. There's no way to talk her down. Jacks tired, hungry, and battered and bruised. He hasn't been able to do his normal full moon aftercare bc he's spent the last two days hiking through the woods trying to get ted back. He can't do this anymore. He starts crying but it's like angry crying. He's not giving up, if anything he's doing the opposite. He's tried talking to her, he's tried sneaking ted out (that's how he got caught), he's tried to be nice and reasonable, but he can't do it anymore. Now, as much as he hates violence, he has to hit somebody. so he does exactly that.

the guards aren't ready and go down pretty easily. they aren't expecting it and even tho he's exhausted, I think jack would be stronger than a regular person. He grabs one of their batons or something and fights his way up to the throne. Ellen sees that somehow all her men are losing so she gets down and goes up against jack herself. they exchange a few blows before she melts his stick. jack realizes how utterly screwed he is w no weapons and almost no combat training so he falls back on his "running and hiding" tactic that has served him well. the room is dark and almost everything is painted black or some shade of gray so it's easy to hide. she starts taunting him and knocking over boxes and stuff to find him. maybe there's a moment where jack and ted make eye contact and theyre both afraid and don't know if this is the end. then jack spots the big monster ray or whatever and has an idea. the only problem is it's all the way across the room and he'll be out in the open for a while trying to get to it. he doesn't have any other options tho and she's getting close so he jumps out and makes a break for it. maybe she grabs onto the back of his oversized jacket and he thinks he's done for when ted reaches through the cage and picks Ellen up. she drops jack in surprise and jack runs. ellen burns ted and he drops her. he's got a nasty burn on his hand now but is relatively ok bc of his own size and powers. jack makes it to the ray and aims it at ellen. he shoots her and she melts or explodes or evaporates or whatever the ray does, idk.

jack gets ted out and they go home. (where jack has a breakdown over taking another life. but it's ok bc ted comforts him and reassures him that this was ok bc he did it to save both their lives. and then he puts some food in him and jack sleeps for 27 hours straight and he feels much better)

[stealingpotatoes]

just watched mando s3 it’s great that we TOTALLY had a whole season about din coming to grips with being mand’alor & life without grogu and about dueteragonist bo-katan coming to realise she was only trying to lead mand’alor bc of her sister not bc she thought she was the best leader. and the whole season centred around the theme of accepting who you really are even if you’re certain you’re something else and was about how heroes and leaders can come from anywhere, they don’t have to come from a special bloodline (a sorta thesis against the skywalker saga) and about the uniting power of grief and oppression. isn’t it great we had that instead of a season with no plot 

isn’t it great that there were no mando cameos in tbobf and mando season 3 started with him on a bounty, cringefailing at using the darksaber and stabbing himself but he did the job and got paid in a nubian starfighter (he wanted a razor crest but he’s injured so he doesnt argue much) which he then used to find his covert on the canyon planet. then he revealed to the armorer and paz that he had the darksaber which after some time leads to paz duelling din for the saber (without telling the others bc they dont know din has it) and din wins but its revealed he took his helmet off. he’s made apostate IN FRONT OF EVERYONE (EVERYONE!!) with only one IMPOSSIBLE chance of redemption (nobody can go to mandalore anymore!!) and has to leave and now has nothing — no child, no clan. so he does the only thing he can think to and goes to a green planet we’ve never seen before. he lands safely but still injured from his fight with Paz and not fully healed from the original injury he passes out. and the episode ends with a kid running over and telling another kid to call master skywalker

and sure episode 2 was the fanservice episode but its disney! we have to expect a marketable plushie cameo episode — except of course that didn’t mean it wasn’t plot relevant! din wakes up and we realise he’s at luke’s jedi academy and this is great n stuff we finally get to see luke in his prime teaching a whole bunch of students! and we get to see grogu happy and having fun with his kind (which makes din happy but miss his own covert). luke notices din has a saber himself (despite it being well-hidden — luke can sense it) and din admits he can’t use it and that he doesnt think it even belongs to him while luke shows him saber forms (but pretends its for his own training and not din’s bc din refuses to learn). they have a discussion and din reveals he came here bc he got kicked out and has no way to redeem himself bc there are no mines left and even then the planet’s poisonous. luke spouts some jedi stuff asking din if he’s certain and says blind certainty is the enemies of hope and progress or whatever (setting up the larger theme of identity certainty in the season). luke also points out that if they imps r there then they have to have some way of getting around the environment they caused. inspired and knowing grogu is safe here, din is ready to go redeem himself on mandalore. he says he’ll come to see grogu again and luke makes it clear that while attachments can’t get in front of duty, din is always welcome here <3 

episode 3 of course had din go to the ruins of mandalore to redeem himself, inspired by luke’s words about certainty he goes to the ruins of sundari, where he knows there was once living waters (the other option is the one surviving and imperial-controlled city, but he’s not that dumb). also bc the imps only hang around the cities so that must be where it's survivable. there’s some imperials about the edge of the city (not many) and he does have to subtly fight them but he gets spotted. he wins but he’s panicking bc during the fight his breathing system got hit but then he notices a plant growing. and he realises he’s not dying — the air isn’t poisonous anymore or whatever! so he turns off his failing life support and goes to the city. he explores the city and finds many remnants of mandalorian culture there in the small parts that survived. ash-covered murals, mostly-burnt toys, something that could have once been a palace. he finds a memorial to a duchess satine kryze and thinks huh like bo katan? (because of course the show wouldn’t ignore bo’s motivations) anyway after some slow but meaningful exploring (its quietness eerie, unlike the quietness of the previous stealth section) he manages to make his way below the city. he finds the mines, reads the inscription and then goes in. except of course its no longer shallow and he falls and he falls and he realises well fuck he’s gonna die. his life support got hit earlier and he doesnt have his jetpack he’s going to sink. but then in the darkness, a great looming eye opens and before din knows it, SOMETHING is throwing him out that sinking water. it had to have been a freak current right? he was hallucinating. surely a MYTHOSAUR didn’t just save him… those are all dead, only to return with a new age of mandalore! he shakes his head, ignores it, and collects the water with something new to bring to his people

episode 4 reintroduced us to old fan favourite bo katan in her depression girl era bc din shows up to her empty palace ready to help her take back mandalore… only to find her in a depression pit and— oh my god is she drunk??! she drops that her ppl left her bc she didn’t have the darksaber and din’s looking at the depression pit like. right. bc of the darksaber. he briefly tries to convince her to fight him for it but she’s like no you’ll throw the fight it won’t be true comba— oh no! explosion nearby bc looks like din wasn’t as careful as he thought and the imperials followed him to bo’s place so both of them have to fucking skeet outta there and bo’s home’s destroyed so din’s like hey come on let’s go to my people we can take back mandalore with them or smthn. so they head back to the covert, din reveals he’s no longer apostate and that mandalore isnt cursed it’s breathable + you can successfully walk on the surface now. this is however interrupted by a beast showing up and trying to kill some ppl. it almost kills paz’s son but din kills the beast first in his starfighter. anyway back to the conversation (now within the cave) and din’s trying to convince his clan that they can take back mandalore (with bo as leader) but none of them want to follow her or risk what few numbers they have left. dejected, din and bo make to leave again, but paz follows them out and is like ?? din you literally have the darksaber why didn’t you use it to get at least SOME of them to follow you and din’s like i don’t want people to follow me bc of a legend, if they follow me it has to be bc they want to and paz and bo r internally like wow damn. anyway paz then says he’ll always fight w din if needed bc he saved his son but if he wants the people to follow him they should try get some of the other clans to help so it looks less dangerous. so bo and din leave on their quest. also throughout this episode, we’re introduced to some random civilian in the reintegration program. its implied they worked with gideon and that they’re preparing for something, but we don’t get much more than that. 

episode 5 is the bo episode, this is where we explore her character, have her arc, and ya know really cover her motivations (bc disney would NEVER make it so her motivation is invisible unless you’d seen two other tv shows). din and bo head to where her clan is. they just want to see the clan but they end up being dragged into a b-plot about helping the local pacifist duchess (& duke). din tries to say no but bo-katan says smthn abt diplomacy. this quest initially doesn’t seem plot relevant but throughout bo opens up about her own pacifist duchess sister and she comes to realise how much of this quest has been about trying to live up to satine and not bc she thinks herself the best mand’alor. the thing she said abt diplomacy earlier, she reveals, is just a quote from her sister. anyway they’re finally able to go to bo’s old clan and she, now reinvigorated in accepting and knowing who she is and what she wants (no longer depression girl) challenges axe for leadership of the clan. she wins and in a speech is like we’re gonna retake unpoisonous mandalore by uniting the clans!! most agree but theyre like HOW are we supposed to convince the other clans? and it descends into insane yelling UNTIL a low hum and a black-white light falls over the group. silence falls. everyone looks on. high above his head, din is holding the darksaber (proudly!!) and he’s like we’ll unite them with this. but axe has to constantly be chatting shit and getting up from the floor where he got his ass whipped he’s like really???? you wanna follow him???? he doesn’t even have any mandalorian blood in him!!! and bo makes a great speech about blood doesn’t make a good leader what makes a good leader is knowing when to use your power. and then she’s like he is my mand’alor amen and kneels before him. everyone else follows and din awkwardly stands there still not fully accepting his role 

episode 6 was the great prep episode. we start with din and bo helping and getting a new tribe on their side and heading back to Concordia we realise they’ve got this HUGEEEE war camp of mandalorians!! there are so many clans with them now (except one, which din is really missing)!!!!! this episode mostly focuses on mandalorian culture and them training/ planning and din and bo trying to keep the clans from biting each other’s heads off. but this is interrupted when a small group of imperials try to pre-attack them (like they did w bo’s palace) but the mandos all manage to fight back and take them down, which then leads to a whole speech from din and bo about how mandalorians are all fighting but theyre united now in their grief and with this they can fight the empire. the b-plot of the episode comes back to that random civilian from episode 4 and whoomp turns out their plan was to BREAK MOFF GIDEON OUT OF JAIL!! shitttt!!!! oh no!! he’s back now, that’s gonna make their very decent plan to take back mandalore harder but they dont knowww (irony!)

episodes 7 and 8 were the battle of mandalore, woo! it had to be two episodes because it’s a taking whole occupied planet and not a single base, a pretty damn difficult task that definitely can’t be done by two single clans in like 40 minutes! there’s all those mini tiny bases scattered throughout the planet on the ruins (like din encountered in episode 3) AND more importantly there’s the one domed city that the imperials kept alive as their main base — which means they have to be careful, bc they can’t do any sort of aerial assault or great deal of damage to the imperials without also destroying the one surviving place for them to live. so the plan is smaller strike teams to go the bases plopped around the planet as a distraction and to stop reinforcements to the city while the main force surround the city and take it. the first city team (with din and bo) has to open up all the ports and stuff to allow the HUGE armies to get in. unfortunately this is in the main imp base in the centre of the city so they have to get there. (they’d prefer 2 strike teams but they can only spare 1) MOST of the mini-bases r meanwhile being successfully captured. the strike team gets to the centre to de-activate the port shielding n stuff and GASP! IT’S GIDEON!! FROM JAIL!! and he’s surrounded by fucking MANDO STORMTROOPERS and IN BESKAR ARMOUR oh no!! ambush!! he knew they’d have to go here to allow a full-scale assault! the small strike team at sundari also gets captured bc there were some mandotroopers there (they increased security post episode 3). episode 7 ends on a cliffhanger bc all seems lost and the strike team’s surrounded 

episode 8 starts straight off the cliffhanger and oh no they’re all gonna die gasp WHEN BAM fighting noises elsewhere, everyone’s confused, when paz’s voice crackles over din’s comm like hey bro! BC DIN’S CLAN FINALLY SHOWED UP TO HELP AND THEY WERE ABLE TO MAKE THAT SECOND STRIKE TEAM and in the confusion din & bo’s team take out the mandotroopers, gideon gets away. din and paz and the armorer come face to face and paz calls him mand’alor or smthn bc he’s also accepted it and they’re like woo let’s go now we can fight fr!! din heads to help lead the battle ig but bo’s like nah i have to end gideon for what he did to our planet. and din’s like well he’s wearing beskar armour so you’ll need this and gives her his beskar spear WHICH IS SYMBOLIC BC he’s finally giving up his other weapon and is going to solely use the darksaber!! he’s accepted who he is and is going to lead their ppl!! so yeah instead of having din fight gideon, who he already beat once, bo fights him and its incredibly cathartic. at sundari that strike team who got captured is also not looking great but MYTHOSAUR EX MACHINA COMES AND FUCKS UP THE IMPERIALS THERE (its returned!!). so big battle and gideon’s down and the darksaber DOESN’T get destroyed yay! afterwards they all vibe and they go to the forge and the armorer relights it and they proclaim din mand’alor fr and he accepts it and throne. sure he's still a BIT uneasy (mand'alor the reluctant anyone?) but he's not saying NOO now loll. yayyy!! AND THEN final scene is din returns to the jedi academy like hii thanks for ur advice u were right being blindly certain abt stuff is meh and leaves no room for hope. uh could i show grogu mandalore i promise i’ll bring him right back and it ends on din showing grogu the planet finally bc thats cute and fanservice

anyway isn’t it great this is exactly what happened, it’s all canon and definitely not the stealingpotatoes sequels canon continuity rewrite! 

[transcarcinization]

what do you do when you meet a neutron star and it wants to watch television with you

[forcebookish]

Force Jiratchapong Srisang as Top Tanin in Only Friends, ep. 7 (🥺🥺🥺)

[collegeoflore]

rare and sweet

pairing: nb!Tav/Astarion rating: M word count: 5,009 description: Astarion has spent two centuries earning his safety with a few flicks of his practiced tongue. He thought Xarrai would make an easy mark. In retrospect, perhaps he should have known better. more context: Xarrai is a tiefling bard and courtesan with the charlatan background, and an escaped Banite cultist. Any pronouns are fine (though I stick with they/them here for clarity.) ao3 link: here

This is easy. The quiet of the underdark is wrapped around them like a curtain, far enough from the camp to find a little privacy. Astarion pushes Xarrai back against the rough stone and presses his lips to theirs, quick and hungry. Their shirt is already discarded; they tug at the laces on his as he palms their breast. Their mouth opens for him when he nips at their lower lip and they let him in, let him taste the tobacco and whisky on their breath, let him feel the barbell in their tongue and the gem on their tooth. Their skin is hot under his touch, the metal pierced through their nipple a burning ember against his palm, the warmth of them seeping into his bones. They hum into his mouth when he squeezes their soft flesh and their hand slides from his hip to his backside, pulling him closer until his knee slots between their thighs.

He knows what he’s doing. Every movement is carefully rehearsed, practiced and refined until it became second nature. He knows where the script goes next; he moves his free hand down their side to hook his fingers in the waistband of their trousers, echoing the contented little noise they make in response. He smiles against their lips when they grind against his thigh, and he feels how hard they are already.

keep reading on ao3

[cinnamonrollsledge]

Episode 9 of The Pacific needed to be at least 5-10 mins longer. Here's why...

1.

We needed a scene addressing the massive wedge of tension that grows between Sledge and Snafu

There was already some friction there, w/ Sledge becoming increasingly distant and surly as he slid further toward the deep end. Then, the two of them fall into a screaming match- which, as we know, also leads to Peck's mental breakdown, and Hamm's death.

Then the next day, the two of them find the baby and its family who was killed (probably by them).

Afterwards, Snafu, who's clearly noticed Sledge's changed demeanor, stares at him for literally the rest of the entire scene.

Yet all of this never leads to anything, and it's just left as a loose end.

Who knows, maybe IRL the two men never actually sat down and talked about it. But this is a television show. You aren't supposed to put the main characters through multiple consecutive soul-crushing experiences together and then never have any acknowledgement of it whatsoever between them.

2.

We needed another moment(s) to re-affirm the growth in both Sledge and Snafu’s characters

After all of the emotional turmoil they just went through, there needed to be something to follow up, and to show how it & the events of the episode have changed them. Instead, we just get both of them just staring silently.

But that isn't enough. We're not mind-readers, nor should we have to be.

A few lines of dialogue in that last scene with the two of them in the back of the truck would've gone a long way. Maybe Snafu burying his collection of gold teeth? Or something as simple as the two of them helping an Okinawan refugee pick up something they dropped? (IDK just throwing out ideas here.)

3.

We needed another scene(s), &/or discussion of the final days of the Battle for Okinawa, and afterwards

The show transitions to the final scene by showing Sledge's tally-marks of the days in his journal, indicating that several weeks have passed since the previous scene.

Last we saw, they were on the front lines of the battle and covered in mud, grime, and blood. Now they're clean and fluffy, and watching the ocean while lounging around in the sun.

So clearly a lot has happened and changed for them, but why don't they show us anything, or even have them talk about it?

What about the aftermath from the events of the previous scenes? Or the relief they must've felt after combat ended? What about the dread of an impending invasion of mainland Japan? Or the relief of that invasion being called off? Any or all of these would've been relevant and interesting to include, and could’ve made the episode's story end smoother.

4.

Viewers needed to see some post-credits information (like Band of Brothers did), to inform and help contextualize what they just watched

(CW for mentions of sexual violence, suicide in this section)

For instance:

The horrifically high rate of civilian casualties, including those who were conscripted to fight, forced &/or induced by propaganda to commit mass suicides, etc.

Likewise, the rate of sexual violence against civilians- a large portion of which was done (and covered up) by members of the U.S. military, both during the battle and afterward

The U.S. military had more than twice as many casualties on Okinawa as Guadalcanal and Iwo Jima combined

More mental health issues were reported than from any other battle in the Pacific during WWII

The Japanese civilian casualties of the atomic bombs, which are mentioned in passing at the end of the episode

The U.S. military set up civilian internment camps post-war, where thousands more Okinawans died from starvation and disease

The U.S. occupied of Okinawa for decades, and still have a huge military presence there, despite protests from islanders

TLDR

It's still a good episode. But the ending is rushed and leaves loose ends, which does a disservice to the characters' development and the story overall.

It also needed to provide information to the viewers, both to fill in some gaps of information which deserve to be acknowledged, as well as to contextualize all of the horrors and atrocities they just watched.

[whumble-beeee]

The Name of The Game

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 8

Content: mentioned past attempted noncon, hysterical whumpee/nervous breakdown (seriously yall, it gets bad), disabled whumpee, trans whumpee, tied up/handcuffs, noncon unshirtening, past captivity references

* * * * * * * *

Excerpt from: The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping; a self-help guide for villains and bounty-hunters

[While following this guide, as well as generally while playing the wonderful game that is villainy, you will find that the advice can rarely be fitted to every specific scenario. But one piece of advice is universal: If you value your freedom, your loved ones, and your life, you must never reveal your secret identity to your captured hero. As soon as you do, there is no more facade. Villainy is no longer a game. It is your life. And heroes will not hesitate to destroy your life if it means they can win the game. 

If a hero (or ANY untrusted party) ever happens upon your secret identity, it is your responsibility, as a villain and as a human being, to accept the end of your life as you know it…

Or to ensure that the hero can never tell another living soul.]

* * * * * * * *

“See you soon?” Deeby repeated Sweater-vest’s last words incredulously. “See you soon?! Christ, and you know he knows– god, he just needs to stop being such un pendejo and shut the hell up, stop making everything about his goddamn god complex and shoving it en las caras de todos–”

The sudden anger from the usually cool and smug Deeby did not help the apparent panic attack seeping ever so quickly into Stan’s consciousness, especially with said seething bounty hunter circling around the room like an angry shark as he muttered to himself and gesticulated wildly. 

Stan cowered to hide his shirtlessness from said angry shark. His chest and limbs started to buzz from all the excess oxygen entering his system as he took in heavy breaths, his head spinning, dizzy, hurting, every muscle clenching.

“--y quién se cree ese cabrón para venir a joderme MI TRABAJO?” 

He was so angry. So loud, talking so fast, and what the hell was he even saying?! It was too much, too much.

 “Y la puta Lana no puede ni aparecer para decirme que me está jodiendo la vida OTRA VEZ porque es lo único que le encanta hacer, joderme TODO lo que–”

Stop it stop it stay calm stay calm please not now please please please not now you can’t show weakness like this in front of your kidnapper you can’t stop it STOP IT–

He took in an involuntary loud heaving breath. Then fell into a stuttering slew of smaller breaths as he tried to keep quiet, and Deeby finally took notice of the state of his captive. 

Stan squeaked and pulled the jacket around himself tighter. He was small, he was silent, he was invisible. 

Then he gasped in another desperate heaving breath with an involuntary cry of panic when he suddenly ran out of air. He’d stopped breathing entirely with all his efforts.

“Stan? Qué es–... Ah, you good?”

Stan nodded quickly, shaking. “F-fine, fine.”

Deeby raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t lie to me. What is this, you having a panic attack?”

He couldn’t get his eyes to focus, but he shook his head fervently. Then reeled as it made the dizziness and headache so much worse.

“Stan, talk to me, chiquito. If he actually did something to you, tell me. I need a good reason to kill him, you’d be helping me out a lot.”

He didn't actually even hurt me, did he? 

“No–! I-I u-uh-uh yes-s-s, but– but–” 

I don't WANT to ‘help you out’! I don't want to talk about it! ESPECIALLY not with you. 

He let out a whine and failed to swallow the giant knot forming in his throat.

“Alright, is this about the shirt then? Or the uh, the chest thing? Is that why you went from colonizer white to ghost white when you thought I was gonna make you strip earlier?” He walked over to the tattered shirt and scooped it up. “Because if that's what got you, I can assure you I don’t give a single crap what you’ve–... got in your...”

Deeby trailed off as he held up the grey strips of fabric that used to be Stan's button-down. 

And just stared.

Stan gawked at the unrecognizable shredded fabric hanging in the bounty hunter's hands. His breath caught in his throat. He hadn't realized how utterly destroyed his beloved shirt was. What was he supposed to wear now?

“That… Motherfucker…” Deeby muttered, almost as as aghast as Stan. “Christ, I knew he'd pull some grade-A bullshit, but this–”

“Y-you KNEW?!” Stan gasped out, surprising himself with the volume of his outburst. “You– You knew he was gonna– gonna try to...”

Deeby didn't look up from the tatters in his hands. “Yeah. He's predictable, if nothing else.”

Stan's entire body felt like it was full of angry bees. “You–... You left me-e alone with ‘im. On pu-urpose.”

“And everything turned out fine, you're fine. Look runt, we need to have a little talk about what–”

“NO!” Stan cried, ignoring the drop in his stomach when Deeby's eyes took on a slight challenging glint at the interruption. “No, don’t change the subject! You left me alone with him! You knew he was gonna try to– to rape me and you left me alone with him! Handcuffed, chained to the floor, powerless, immobile, beat up to hell and– a-and unable to defend myself and you-you left me alone with him!”

The floodgates were opening. The stifling sense of justice suffocating Stan from the inside out wouldn’t let the injustices go unsaid any longer, crashing through his body and just about ready to make him burst. Ironic, given the everything.

Deeby’s jaw set. “Stan. I wouldn’t have left that shit-for-brains alone with anyone if I didn’t have to.”

“Oh, but you– you had to?” Stan taunted, hoping the sarcasm came through in his voice even with the stuttering and heaving breaths. “What, Dee-deeby the great bounty hunter actually answers to someone? Enough to put the uh, the bounty in danger? Or are you just scared of him, wanted to get away?!” 

Deeby snorted.

“Hell yeah, I'll do whatever if the buyer asks it,” he proclaimed. "And I'm not scared of that human cringe-fail. The day I'm scared of him is the day I'm dragged away screaming and turned into… well, you, basically. But I mean, that's when he's actually dangerous…" 

He seemed to think on it for a moment. Then crouched down in front of Stan, smug grin replaced with something like the look a friend gives when they think you're about to ruin your life with a single dumb decision.

“Honesty, bud… I wouldn't be so tough around a guy like that if I were a guy like you. Best to just fuel his ego.”

Stan physically recoiled. “Don't tell me what–! Who-wh–…”

That insult sounded way too genuine. Since when was the mercenary genuine?

“Wait, wait, you'd…” Stan shook his head, trying to untangle his thoughts from the spaghetti of his mind. This concussion was killing him. He could barely think. “If you were… Who even was th-that?”

Another chuckle. “What, Tweedy? That was Vaughn. He said that earlier, though I applaud your ability to block him out. Wish I could do that.”

Then again, the hunter was most likely just trying to psych him out. Get him to behave again. Stan wouldn't fall for something like that.

“No, idiot, I mean–... I meant who is he? Why is he going to-to see me soon?… And– and for that matter, are you working together? Because it seems like you hate each other.”

Deeby let out a huff of air. “Look, bud, we need to talk about that phone call I had to take, the boss–”

“You're avoiding the question.”

“Well frankly, there's more important things to talk about,” Deeby dismissed quickly. “So I was talking with the boss-lady on the phone while you were–”

“I don’t care about what that Lana person has to say!” Stan said, slamming his hands on the floor for effect, a breath-stealing pang running through his ribs at the jostling. “Jus– Just tell me who you guys are, tell me why I’m here, tell me why I should be scared of ‘a guy like that’! Who ARE you?!”

Deeby narrowed his eyes slightly. “We need to talk about what's going to happen to you next. And you're gonna listen to that. Not yell demands at me like some asshole 6-year-old, because you already know I don't deal with all that ‘who am I, secret identity’ crap, so you're not getting those answers.”

Well actually, judging by the horrible sticky weight that slammed Stan in the gut when Deeby said that, he didn't want to know what horrors awaited him next. So next best thing? Keep being an asshole 6-year-old.

“Why?”

“Anonymity is the most valuable tool you can have in this game.” Deeby recited it like a script, exaggerating a monotone boredom. “Also I'm not an idiot, it's protocol that's saved me before, it helps me do my job without getting invested… take your pick.”

“You're not even wearing your mask any more!” Stan cried. “So much for secret identity!”

“I think what you're meaning to say is ‘thank you for rushing to save my damsel-in-distress ass from some twink with scissors when you heard me screaming for help even though you were dealing with a really important phone call from the worst person ever’. And you're very welcome. Now we need to talk about what I found out in that dumbass phone call and what it means for you.”

He always had an answer for everything, huh? Always another quip.

Stan's blood started to boil, and he may have actually, genuinely growled a little. 

“S-so-so so what, you are scared of her, then? You're scared of her and that's why you left me with that monster?!” He tried, spitting back as much smug asshole-ness as Deeby had been throwing at him. “Is that why you hate them, you’re just their damn lackey doing whatever they tell you to do?! Just a puppet for them to guide around, running around capturing supers and serving them up on a silver platter like a good little servant?!”

Deeby stared at him, genuinely stunned by the sudden venom in the captive's words. His fists clenched by his side.

 Hm. Stan may have gone too far.

“Look, McKellen,” Deeby spat as he took an authoritative step forward, voice slow, low and dark. “There are things at play here that you can’t know about–”

“Why not?!” Stan felt like he was losing it, voice creaky and high and hoarse. “Obviously I’m gonna be trapped here with you assholes for the rest of my short life until you kill me with some new form of torture experiment bullshit! Why not tell me everything?! Why not do whatever you want with me?! Just tell me! Please!!”

Stan glared desperately at the bounty hunter. He knew he wasn’t even just crossing the line at this point; he was sprinting over the line and stomping on it repeatedly in a panic-fueled frenzy, kicking at it and letting out his full fury as if the line itself had done this to him, as if absolutely decimating the line would somehow fix everything.

Way deep down, almost too far down to admit to himself, he almost hoped the mercenary would see through the insults and the fighting to see the pleading, hurt, scared man underneath. And then take pity. Just let him have this one thing, before he broke entirely.

But the bounty hunter glared right back at him.

“No.” He stated venomously. “Right now, you're going to shut up. And listen.”

As if Stan would ever listen to the orders of his kidnapper. Of a villain.

A small laugh, just a little chuckle, took root his chest. A disbelieving smile cracked across his face.

The absence of the signature unbothered grin, the absence of the mask, the deathly seriousness? Not to mention the gun, the knives, the chains, the handcuffs, the power suppressing collar, no cane or crutch or any viable mobility aid in sight, and beaten so hard multiple times that he probably couldn't run properly anyway even if he did have a knee that actually worked…

This really was hopeless, wasn't it? 

He could rage against the dying of the light all he wanted. Scream and shout and cry and fight and say witty things to hide the excruciating, never-ending pain. 

But the light would still die all the same.

He clutched Deeby's very own stupid cowboy-ass jacket around his shoulders. He couldn't even defend himself from getting his shirt ripped to shreds right off his body!

And this bitch–

“You– you don't think…” he had to pause to let out a barrage of inappropriate giggles, then shoved up shakily to his feet, back braced against the wall. “You don't still think I'm gonna– that, that I'm gonna escape, do you?!”

Deeby gave pause, eyeing Stan up and down. Really thinking about it. He took a deep breath. A low grumble emanated from the base of his throat.

“No. I don't.”

Stan laughed out again, full force this time. Desperate. Tearful.

“Then just–... just TELL ME!! IT DOESN'T MATTER!! IT DOESN'T!! IT'LL DIE WITH ME!!”

The mercenary's mouth pressed into a thin line. Was that confusion etched into his features? Or worry? Maybe anger…

“It does matter,” He growled through gritted teeth. “It's probably the most important thing you could know, who I am. Who we are.”

Stan let out a loud cry of anguish, screeching out every single frustration at the unfairness of the world, at this situation, at Deeby and Vaughn and whoever Lana was, at the collar and the chains and the cut and bruises and broken bones and his broken, useless knee into a single, guttural sound. 

“WHY WON'T YOU TELL ME ANYTIN-GAH-AH!!”

Very, very suddenly, the lapels of Deeby's loosely draped jacket tightened around his body and slammed him back into the wall, the fleece-lined collar of the jacket twisting and pulling on the power-suppressing strap clamped around his neck, contracting it, choking him just as the slam forced all the breath out of his lungs. 

Stan clawed back against the force, only managing to grasp at Deeby’s forearms uselessly as they twisted the jacket ever tighter around him. Pinning his arms. Trapping him. He had to heave in and out gasping breaths just to get enough air to breath through his half obstructed airways.

“Look at me, chiquito,” the bounty hunter snarled. “Look me in the eye!”

Stan's panicked eyes paused their sporadic dance around the room. They locked dead onto the mercenary's fiery gaze.

“Did you break your damn brain in the 3 minutes I was gone?” Deeby hissed into his ear. Stan almost screeched in terror. “I don't know what sort of fuckery your mind has been conjuring up that you can't get this very simple concept without going insane,” he jolted Stan and dragged out an involuntary whimper from his throat. 

“But whatever it is, shut it down. Now. I'm gonna tell you the bare minimum of what you need to know, and you're gonna sit there and listen or else I won't tell you jack shit and knock you unconscious so I don't have to deal with your bullshit. Agreed?!” 

“I– Ah, a-ah, I– No, I- I, no-no no No-o–”

He couldn't get his thoughts to line up properly. They swarmed around his head like locusts in a dust bowl, bouncing into each other, frenzied, an indecipherable cloud of fear and frustration that his horrible attempt at defiance, futile as it may have been, always just made everything worse.

He could never stop himself.

Angry tears rimmed at Stan's eyes. His body hurt. His brain pounded in his skull. His ribs cried out in protest as they pressed into the wall. The various bruises and their dull, throbbing aches, the cuts and bleeding wounds and their sharp, searing screeches, the sticky and caked on dried blood, so familiar now it was almost a second skin, Deeby's weight pinning him to the wall, so similar and yet so different to the way Vaughn had done the same.

No. No, no, no, no.

He squeezed his eyes shut, tears finally falling in hot, fat drops down his cheeks. The bounty hunter was so close, too close. Stan tried to pull away, and he just leaned on him harder, their faces barely inches apart.

“Agreed, chiquito?” The voice rumbled through his entire body, sending shivers up and down his spine.

No no no no no no no he needed to get away, get away now, please please that's all he needed he couldn't get away he couldn't even move his arms he could barely breathe–

“WHY DON'T YOU JUST RAPE ME ALREADY?!” Stan screamed into the endless cacophonous void.

And silence.

And the entire world went still.

Deeby’s mouth fell literally agape.

His grip on Stan loosened considerably. Not out of pity or any other considerate emotion. Just shock.

At least Stan could finally breathe again. Not that he took a single breath in the silence.

“I–...” Deeby finally choked out. “I-I beg you finest fucking what?!”

“Just fucking do it,” Stan hissed, gasping. “We both know you could. I couldn't even stop Vaughn, you think I could stop you?!”

The words spewed out of his mouth faster than he could stop them, like a volcano that had finally exploded its top off in a fiery glory. And the way Deeby looked at him, as if his features were having an all out war over shock, horror, or honestly very justified anger? Oh, that did nothing but fan the flames of Stan's sorrow-filed hysteria.

“Tall ass muscle-bound freak with an actual gun that captured me and beat me up again and again then left me to die?! I don't even know who you are! You can do whatever you want and I can't do jack shit to stop you! Just do it, hurt me, rape me, it doesn't matter! Vaughn knew that, you can too!” Stan attempted to shove the bounty hunter off, but he still didn't move. 

“Please, please, I'm begging you, is that what you want?! I'll get on my knees!”

Stan collapsed against Deeby's hold, and to his surprise, Deeby finally let him. Well, not ‘let him,’ more like ‘recoiled and jumped back when he felt Stan collapsing in his grasp'. 

All the same.

“Chiquito,” Deeby rasped. “I'm– not exactly sure what or why you're demanding, but I'm not going to–”

“Why not?! It doesn't matter!” Stan assured, holding his arms out to fully present himself now, shedding the jacket onto the floor behind him and taking a daring scoot forward. “I bet you just kicked Vaughn out because you wanted me all to yourself! I bet you just love seeing me scared and helpless and half naked in your stupid fucking yee-yee jacket–”

“Alright, Stan, enough!”

“AT LEAST VAUGHN had the decency to not pretend like he was a decent fucking person like you!” Stan yelled. “We both know you're not above it, fucking professional kidnapper and torturer! So just do it! Like Vaughn wanted to, like he tried to! Finish what he started, you have me all to yourself now! DO IT! DO IT I DARE–”

“The name's Declan.”

The statement was a whisper in the storm. Stan almost missed it. But the resolute certainty of the southern twang stopped him dead in his tracks.

“What–… What did you just–?”

It was astounding how quickly his voice had turned meek from the cacophony of chaos mere seconds before. Dark freckles stood out against an even starker white face than usual.

“It's Declan,” the mercenary stated once more. “My name. My name’s Declan. You wanted t’know who we are, who I am? Fine then, I'm Declan. Want the last name too?”

“I– wait–!”

“It's Cansano. Declan Cansano.”

Stan was shaking, a million thoughts crashing down upon him like a tidal wave. If he weren't already on his knees, surely he would have collapsed. 

He hadn't actually… meant any of that. No. Had he? No. He couldn't have. He didn't want to know who the mercenary was. No, he didn't. He didn't, not really! He would never want that! Never!

“That’s not… Wh-why would you…?”

The bounty hunter shrugged. “You wanted to know who I am. You asked, you screamed, you insulted me and you went fuckin’ nuts over it.” His thunder-filled eyes betrayed his completely relaxed demeanor. “Declan Cansano. Don't forget‘t.”

“I just– That's not what– Wait, Deeby, you– Where are you going?!”

Deeby was already halfway to the door when he swiftly spun around, fists clenched and any trace of the easy demeanor vanished in those bright blood-stained eyes. 

“I can't fuckin’ deal with you right now!”

Stan nearly launched himself back in fear, right back onto Deeby's stupid, soft jacket. He grasped it up as a barrier between him and the mercenary without even thinking. The mercenary's demeanor relaxed from absolutely terrifying to merely extremely angry at the sorry sight.

“I'm leaving for a bit.” He whipped around and grasped for the lapels of his jacket to yank it on, only for his grasp to come up empty. He whipped around a third time. “And I'll be expectin’ my coat back when I get back! You better've calmed the hell down by then, if you know what’s good for you.”

Wait, wait, he was leaving? No!

Stan tried to scramble after Deeby, but immediately fell to the agony of his knee and the length of his leash. 

“Don't go, please!” he pleaded.

Deeby didn’t stop. “Why?”

What if you come back with more torture tools? 

What if you don't come back at all? 

I still have more questions for you. 

You can't just leave me here, I'm hurt! 

I shouldn't be alone right now. I can't. I'm scared of what will happen, I'm going insane.

Even you are better than no one at all.

“What– what if Vaughn comes back?!”

Deeby scoffed. “I'm not going that far, damn. Eat some protein bars while I'm gone so you don't die, should help with the insanity. Back soon.”

And the door to the room closed shut behind him, the click echoing off the walls in the sudden unbearable silence. 

Stan collapsed to the floor, defeated.

He clutched the jacket closer. 

Pulled it tight around his shoulders, fingernails leaving small crescent-shaped indents on the well-worn hide. The cotton lining was so surprisingly soft against his skin. Hell, he could smell the dirt and musk that permeated the jacket from years of use, the smal signs that this jacket had seen the capture of dozens of supers.

Declan.

Declan Cansano.

Professional Superhero-Hunter.

Stan screamed into the endless abyss around him.

And this time, Declan didn’t come back to save him.

* * * * * * * *

Next

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy | @pirefyrelight | @cakeinthevoid | @painsandconfusion | @books-are-everything | @paperprinxe | @lovethiswriting

[ador3rin]

hello my darlings o(^▽^)o

expect a (LONG OVERDUE) update for my smau tonight, and if i don't then banish me to rot in purgatory forever!!!

life is finally starting to settle down for me and i've been able to spend some time writing again YAY!

here are some little updates for those who care:

♡ bf & i adopted a 2nd cat! her name is sukiyaki, suki for short and she's a small black 2 year old lady /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\

♡ my old roommate moved out & my friend moved in hooray! this was SO hectic omg

♡ i've finally sorted out my work schedule so no more crazy 30 hour work weeks </3

♡ i go back to uni next week after a year off!!! so excited

[good-beanswrites]

Hello 🎬👋!! Haha, I’m glad you enjoyed the thoughts, I loved these so much! Thank you!

LMAO I think a few of them would have real good taste in song titles, but others… not so much 😅 I actually think Yuno would have some pretty solid ideas. Though Haruka has some nice thoughts too, I heard both his titles are specific plays on words that I don’t think he’d come up with himself…

Omg yes! The prisoners would have such a good time planning mv outfits! I can definitely see it being bittersweet for Fuuta – exasperated by, but also homesick because, they all remind him so much of his sister ;-; Mahiru is devastated she's not getting a new outfit for I Love You and so she enjoys styling vicariously through helping the others. Shidou’s outfit was even more painfully Dad before the group helped tone it down. Before the mv color scheme was decided, they cycle through a few different colored marching band uniforms for Amane. Muu doesn’t quite understand the flower dress, but the team promises her it will all come together to look great.

>:O The birthday art can be au canon!! The previously mentioned fashion crew makes everyone dress up like their cake, and designer Mikoto photoshops them into a pic of it aww. Even after watching the t1 videos, it would be the nicest they've seen everyone get dressed up. They're shocked seeing the boys clean up so nicely in their suits, and the girls are just shining in their fancy dresses and heels. And maybe Es’ “birthday” pic was a pre-experiment candid shot of them chillin with the bunny off set :’)

On a slightly darker note, I wonder if those pv shots of the restraints are canon too. Milgram had a few ideas for worst-case restraints and took a few shots for reference during an early fitting…

ADFGGH rip Haruka 😂😂😂 I love the idea of a whole group of them sneaking around looking for tasty goo and fun props, and instead stumbling upon The Mannequin Room. And waait I'm so emotional over Kazui loosening up and having a bit of fun with his tricks :’D With all the themes about certain characters growing up faster than they should, it would be so lovely to see them giggling and messing around in a blooper reel! I’m imagining someone trying to twirl Amane’s baton as well as her and epically failing at it.

Yeah, I have a lot of different predictions for Amane’s t3 changes – but no matter what happens, she starts accepting help just a little bit more behind the scenes >:) It’ll still take her a really long time to break away from the cult’s beliefs (no one in the cast/team really knows proper cult deprogramming strategies at this point, but they start looking into it as soon as the experiments ends.) Still, she finds a balance of keeping most of her religion and also realizing that the others genuinely care for her. 

And oooh I really like that 👀 I always pictured the prisoner Es hints to be leading toward them being a prisoner in the future (accused of executing prisoners), but that would add so much more drama if it relates to a past imprisonment. The ten would make a perfect heist team, hacking the system, snooping around, and charming facility members in order to find paperwork detailing past experiments featuring Es. And Kotoko would certainly be leading the investigation – I love how closely she’s monitoring everything, it would fit so well if she were the one to see the truth first. Between the realization that Milgram hasn’t been fully honest, and the threat that Es may be there for even longer, the jailbreak would erupt much quicker than the current timeline. Although the au is nicer overall, I really like keeping Milgram a pretty shady organization hehe 

[sysig]

Requestober ask- I love that we got to see last year what costumes you imagined for Edgar and Scri as kids. What do you think they'd be for Halloween as adults? I kind of imagine Scriabin as some kind of vampire or illusionist magician, or something similarly dramatic/elegant/mysterious~ For Edgar, though, I'm not sure. Sheet ghost? Lol. I can only think of lady!Edgar costumes, like her being a princess or smth. I feel like it wouldn't be anything too over the top, either way. Thoughts?

Day 8 - Buggy

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Blood of the Hero Ch 12 (Link's parents play botw)

Summary: The Soul of the Hero will always be there to save Hyrule. But when Calamity Ganon is nearly victorious in killing him, it's those that bear the Blood of the Hero who will prevail. Ten years after the Great Calamity, the Shrine of Resurrection is damaged and Link's parents fight to save their son and Hyrule along with him.

AO3 link

To Kakariko - Familiar Faces

"Get her out of here. You can't win this fight. Not here, not like this. Go to Fort Hateno, Link. We'll rally the troops there and figure something out."  

The air was so filled with ash and smoke it practically choked him as Castle Town burned. The sound of distant guardian fire and people’s screams rang in his ears. His exhaustion was so prevalent he could sleep and never wake up right then and there. His heart was so broken he almost wished for death. But his determination was even stronger, his concern for Link and the princess paramount. Link’s worried expression cut into him far more than a guardian’s beam ever could. The boy’s eyes, filled with sorrow, glittered with something else at his words, though.

Abel was doing more than just giving an order, he was giving the boy hope. Link latched on to the words, his face growing stony with conviction. Abel pat his cheek lightly and gave what little bit of a smile that he could muster. "I'll meet you there, okay?"

His son watched him, his façade cracking a hair, his breath hitching for just a moment. Abel slid his hand behind his boy's head, pulling him close so their foreheads rested against each other, and they both closed their eyes for a moment. "Keep her safe. Do your duty, Link. Now, go."

T he moment was lost, and Link pulled away. He took a slow, deep, steadying breath, and then nodded. With renewed resolve, he turned quickly, rushing to Princess Zelda and grabbing her by the wrist, pulling her away from Abel, away from the castle, away from the city and the ruins and the disaster all around them. The princess followed helplessly, tears staining her cheeks as she turned back to look one last time at her home, her kingdom, before they vanished around a corner.

Abel awoke stiff and sore and disoriented. Images of Castle Town faded into the dust that was lazily floating in the sunlight. Everything was too soft and warm; it instantly made his insides squirm. It felt foreign and unsafe. Reaching forward, he found himself clawing at air where Link and Tilieth had been, and cold adrenaline shot through him like ice, making him nearly fall out of the bed in his haste to get up. His chest screamed in protest, and he doubled over, leaning on a small table for a second to catch his breath.

Kakariko. They made it to Kakariko. He’d nearly forgotten. But where was his family?

Abel quickly slid some boots on. Heading outside, he saw that the sun was fairly high in the sky, and his anxiety grew tenfold. How long had he been asleep? What had happened in that time?

“Captain Abel.”

Turning, Abel saw one of the Sheikah warriors from yesterday. Before he could get a word in, the warrior continued, “Your wife and the Champion are with Lady Impa in her residence. Would you like me to escort you?”

He didn’t need an escort. It was ten steps away from the inn. Abel shook his head, continuing on, all other courtesy forgotten. It was a somewhat chilly morning with the wind blowing, and it stung against his face. He hastily ran up the stairs and entered the abode.

Link was settled on a bunch of pillows on the floor, slumbering still. Tilieth sat at his head, hands tracing through his hair, gently brushing it while Lady Impa and someone unfamiliar knelt at his side facing toward the door.

Lady Impa glanced up, somber face pulling in surprise at hearing Abel’s entrance, and then she gave a tired smile. “Good morning, Captain. I hope you slept well.”

“What are you doing?” Abel asked.

“This is Kollin, our healer,” Lady Impa said, motioning to the man beside her. “I was speaking with your wife about the situation.”

Abel approached the group slowly, his heart finally slowing to a normal rate. Tilieth smiled up at him.

Staring down at Link, stripped nearly bare, let Abel look his wounds over as well. They didn’t seem much different than they had when they’d left the plateau, but somehow Link at least looked less pale. Also, the pressure wounds from his harness seemed a little better. Something had to be happening.

“His wounds are grievous indeed,” the healer commented as his eyes looked over the boy.

Princess Mipha could’ve healed him, his mind thought, and his heart tore a little at the words. The demure Zora princess had always been a kind, gentle soul. Abel had rarely seen her in battle, but it seemed particularly unfair that she had been dragged into the war and murdered in such a horrifying way. He didn’t know what specifically had happened in the Divine Beasts, but given how the guardians had been taken over and no support had arrived, he could guess well enough.

“Can you do anything?” Tilieth questioned hopefully.

“There are elixirs I could make,” the healer proposed. “He’d have to be awake to ingest them, though. Beyond that, it’s up to him. His wounds are wrapped and cleaned – I cannot change the natural healing process.”

“Your ancestors could,” Abel cut in, crossing his arms. “I’m more concerned about your technology than your healers, Lady Impa. The shrines are healing him. We need to know where they all are.”

Impa sighed. “The best solution would be to repair the Shrine of Resurrection. If it’s damaged… the best ones to fix it would be my sister or Robbie. But as I said yesterday, I haven’t been in contact with them since the Calamity. We were fighting our own war down here, too. The guardians came to Kakariko from the west. They completely destroyed Lakna Rokee Settlement and burned the hillside. We held them off, but… my mother was killed in the fight, and I became chief. I had to help rebuild the village. Purah stayed longer than Robbie, but even she left after a year.”

Abel chewed his tongue a little to hold back the bite in his tone before saying, “The Shrine is destroyed. Link will die before we can hunt anyone down, let alone before it can be repaired. I need to know where the smaller shrines are.”

The Sheikah chief furrowed her brow thoughtfully, her head tipping down to look at Link. The metal adornments of her hat jingled, filling the silence as Abel felt dread bubble in his chest.

“I… don’t know the location of all the shrines,” Lady Impa said slowly. “Not many were apparent before the Calamity. It seems more have appeared since then. I assume that was your doing, based on what Tilieth’s told me.”

Whatever help Abel had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t this. Why had the king even directed them here? The dread fizzled out, replaced by an ever-growing frustration.

“I can show you the one here,” the chief continued. “And I can try to map out the few I know of that Princess Zelda visited.”

“In the meantime, I’ll make some elixirs for Sir Link,” the healer said, rising. “And perhaps a few for you two as well, for your journey.”

Their journey. Their journey. Abel… had known, yes, that they would be on a journey to find the shrines for Link, but going to Kakariko had seemed a bit more of a main goal, an endpoint that would give them all the information they needed so they could start anew with everything in hand. It had at least promised some sort of guidance and assistance.

Tilieth smiled. “Thank you for your help.”

The former knight almost let out a bitter laugh. Help? What help? Pointing out one or two places we can try to reach in a land scorched by malice and crawling with enemies? Do we even know how many shrines there are?!

He was tempted to ask for at least a warrior escort to assist them, but at this point he didn’t trust them enough to even consider it. Besides, it might attract too much attention, assuming there were people with ill intentions wandering the countryside.

Such as…

“What of the Yiga?” Abel asked suddenly.

Lady Impa stared at him, a little baffled. “The Yiga? What of those traitors?”

“Have you heard anything about their movements?”

The chief shook her head. “No. The whole world was almost destroyed. For once, I think even they are just trying to survive. I hope they were wiped out, honestly.”

As do I. Abel sighed, nodding. “Let’s go to this shrine, then.”

With that, he helped Tilieth dress Link once more and carried him outside. Lady Impa led the group up the cliffs, which allowed for a beautiful view of a good portion of Hyrule. It didn’t boast the same vastness and scope as Tilieth’s favorite perch just outside the Shrine of Resurrection, but it did give Abel a moment of pause.

A moment to remember what it looked like before all this.

Abel had only been to Kakariko Village once before in his life, and it was when he’d been assigned as part of the royal guard that would accompany Princess Zelda to the village. This was before Link had been appointed her knight. She had been fairly young, fourteen or so. The village had seemed so much livelier then. It had also been more populated.

Bitterness swelled inside of him, the same old friend that seemed to accompany him on bad days. He swallowed hard, looking away. When Tilieth slid Link’s hand and the slate across the access pad, Abel walked first into the darkness of the shrine.

Having Lady Impa accompany them down into this new trial was at least different, though he wasn’t sure how helpful it would be. Not that he hadn’t seen the woman fight – Lady Impa was an impressive warrior. He just…

He didn’t trust anyone anymore, he supposed. And at this point, with as little as she could offer, he’d given up on relying on anyone else for assistance.

The voice that reverberated in the chamber spoke a different message this time, leaving the former knight on edge. “To you who sets foot in this shrine… I am Ta’loh Naeg. I share with you my knowledge, that it may please Hylia.”

“That’s… different,” Tilieth noted. “We don’t have to do anything?”

“You usually have to do something?” Lady Impa asked.

“Yes,” Abel answered slowly, lowering Link to the floor. Two chests flanked the entrance, and he hesitantly went to one. He was happily surprised to find a Sheikah blade in it.

Finally, some useful treasure.

“The trial, of course!” Lady Impa clapped her hands together. “Stories say that this shrine held an ancient trial for Sheikah warriors!”

“Maybe you should do it, then?” Tilieth suggested hesitantly, glancing at Abel.

Abel felt his hackles raise, but before he could protest, the chief nodded. Abel stepped forward, but Til put a hand to his chest, somehow managing to put pressure right where his ribs were bruised. He coughed and grimaced immediately, catching her attention.

“Are you hurt?” she asked quietly as Lady Impa walked by, unaware. “We need to talk to the healer.”

“I’m fine,” he snapped. “But I’ll let her do it. Since apparently I’m too feeble to handle a Sheikah trial now.”

“It’s their tradition,” Tilieth argued hesitantly, expression worried. “And it gives us a break. She’s on our side too, Abel, remember?”

Abel sighed heavily.

As Lady Impa approached the center of the room, the gap in the floor was filled with a rising arena and miniature guardian awaiting her. Abel and Tilieth, despite their aversion to the mechanical beasts, were growing accustomed to the sight in these trials.

He supposed they should have warned the chief about it.

Lady Impa gasped, going rigid, before she charged ahead, slashing viciously at the guardian. Abel squinted, noticing that this one was designed differently from the others, and it did nothing to defend itself. The monk’s voice spoke again, giving fighting instructions.

It’s not a duel, it’s a lesson. Of course. He did say he was trying to impart knowledge.

It was a very basic lesson, though. Lady Impa picked up on it quickly, realizing her attacks were futile but the enemy wasn’t retaliating. She followed the instructions, one by one, until she destroyed the small foe. This time, when it shattered, its blade remained intact, piquing Abel’s curiosity.

After all, such a blade could be useful.

Abel collected the blade while Tilieth collected something from the other chest, plopping it into her pouch.

“We won’t have room to carry all your trinkets, you know,” Abel remarked dully.

Tilieth only smiled and winked.

Abel was the last to reach the final room as he had to pick Link back up, but Lady Impa’s surprised squeal was enough indication that the other two had made it to the monk.

“H-he’s… this is… different,” Impa said, clearly disturbed at the sight of the decomposed Sheikah monk.

“This is normal,” Tilieth explained. “So far, all the shrines have a monk in them at the end. They give Link a Spirit Orb. Watch.”

The monk spoke of a hero rising from the ashes of Hyrule before granting the orb. Link twitched a little, as if when the orb shattered was akin to being splashed with a big raindrop. Abel rested his forehead against the boy’s cheek in reassurance, though he doubted Link could feel it. With that, the group was transported outside, Lady Impa shaking from head to foot.

“What just—?” she tried to question, looking around wildly.

“The shrine kicks you out when you’re done,” Abel quipped, stepping into the grass. “Let’s go. The healer should be ready by now, I imagine.”

“Kollin’s elixirs take some time to m-make,” Lady Impa explained shakily, still getting used to the sensation of being teleported. “B-but—but I imagine he’ll be done by evening.”

Evening?! They were going to lose an entire day? This was absurd. Abel could see another shrine down in the valley from here. He wasn’t going to wait.

“That’s all right,” Tilieth said cheerfully. “I can cook some meals with the ingredients I gathered. Best to have supplies ready for… well, for everything.”

Abel garnered some satisfaction in the way his wife’s voice faltered, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe it was because she was entirely too chipper about this whole mess. Why wasn’t she as upset as he was, why did she think this was fine? She’d said herself that the Sheikah would be able to—

To what? To fix this issue? What sort of naivete had led Abel to think anyone could fix anything at this point?

Get yourself together, he snapped at himself. They still had an objective; the situation wasn’t entirely hopeless.

He supposed he… had expected more help than this. If the king had mentioned Lady Impa would guide them, then he’d, well…

He’d expected the king to be true to his word. But he wasn’t. And it wasn’t the first time.

The bitterness swelled, roaring like a foul beast, and Abel swallowed hard again, biting his tongue.

Lady Impa and Tilieth were babbling now, speaking of shrines and monks, and Abel found himself too weary to care. He walked down the path back to the village with Link resting comfortably on his back before turning right and heading towards the view of the valley once more. At least here he could enjoy some silence.

The trail led to a large collection of stones, Sheikah names inscribed on them, with one towering above the rest.

A memorial for the Sheikah lost in the Calamity.

Crickets chirped and birds sang, their voices carried in the wind, echoing in the silence of Abel’s mind as words were hard to find at the moment. He remembered the bodies of the Sheikah warriors he’d buried on the Great Plateau, the two who remained to help him defend the Shrine of Resurrection from the guardians who had invaded the sacred place. He remembered Castle Town burning along with the rest of Central Hyrule.

He recalled Link, broken and bloodied nearly beyond recognition.

The smell of ash and smoke filled his nostrils, and his throat tightened. He looked to his right and saw Hyrule once more, its landscape a patchy mixture of green and scorched brown and black. The orange glow of two shrines stood out amidst the scars of the land, and energy filled the former captain of the royal guard.

Marching back into the village, Abel saw Tilieth alone now, standing in the center of town. She smiled brightly when she saw him. “Abel, there you are! Come here, let me hold Link, I want to pray.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Abel said dismissively.

“You need to be more patient,” his wife giggled, seemingly unbothered by this entire day. “It’ll be fast. Besides, you need to eat! I made some breakfast for you, if you want some.”

He couldn’t argue the latter issue as his stomach growled, and so he slowly let Tilieth take their son in exchange for a small meal. He finished it within a couple bites, returning his attention to his family to see Til sitting on the ground in front of the goddess statue, Link’s head in her lap.

The image struck him for some reason. It wasn’t as if Til hadn’t prayed to Hylia many times over the years. Abel himself used to pray to her fairly often. Every once in a while his heart stirred enough to try again when they were on the plateau. But now…

Now it seemed like a giant divine joke.

Princess Zelda was supposedly a descendant of Hylia, an inheritor of the divine power to seal away the darkness. Yet she couldn’t activate it in time.

Link was Hylia’s precious chosen hero, destined to fight the darkness and prevail. Yet she didn’t support him when the time came.

Abel had prayed time and again for his family’s safety. Yet his daughter was dead, his son close to it, and the one thing that could have saved him had been destroyed.

And now… now when he’d finally thought Hylia had shown them a path when things seemed the bleakest… Lady Impa had little to nothing to give.

“We need to leave,” he said curtly, eyes darkening.

“Oh, Abel,” Tilieth huffed, a little exasperated.

And that was what did it.

The bitterness and pain swirling in his gut returned with a searing passion, and fire spilled form his mouth. “Don’t talk to me in such a patronizing tone like I’m the child between the two of us. I’m the one who has been trying to keep everyone alive. I’m not the fool who runs about giggling like this is a game. I don’t place hope in false goddesses who only seem to take pleasure in torturing us, and I'm not as idiotic as you’re choosing to be! How can you just sit there and be fine with all of this? Do you even care about Link?! Why do I have to be the one to push to move forward, to—to—”

Words became increasingly difficult, choked out in a rage that was steadily growing along with his tone of voice. The area grew unnaturally quiet as Tilieth seemed to shrivel under his shadow.

His wife watched him, eyes wide, face stricken, tears steadily spilling, cheeks flushed. “You think—what makes you think I don’t—Abel—”

“Don’t even argue with me about it, it’s true!” Abel continued, even though his mind and heart had taken a distinct change in tone. It was as if he couldn’t stop himself anymore, like he knew what he was doing was wrong, but it was already happening and it was akin to a boulder making its way down a mountain. “You pray and you pray, and you speak to the winds, and you place hope in people who have no right to it, and you act as if everything is fine when it’s not!!”

He couldn’t bear to be in this village any longer, couldn’t bear to continue this conversation any longer, couldn’t bear to see Tilieth look so hurt, couldn’t bear to feel so hurt. He turned sharply on his heel, finding Ama grazing lazily and mounting her before tearing out of the area entirely.

The rain began anew, pelting against his face, making him shiver and ache, but he pushed Ama to run all the harder. His surroundings blurred as he steadily grew soaked, his steed couldn’t run fast enough, his heart couldn’t beat hard enough, the rain wasn’t loud enough, he wasn’t angry enough, nothing was enough—

The rain stopped, bringing forth sunlight, startling him into focus just in time to realize where his horse had taken him.

Blatchery Plain.

Abel’s breathing sped up until it started to hitch, one hiccup after another. He shakily slid off Ama and walked amidst the carnage, his body trembling from head to toe.

The guardians stood all around, frozen in that final moment in time, a testament to the princess’ divine power.

All Abel could see was how much it must have hurt. How terrifying it must have been. How much Link must have been hoping Abel would arrive as promised and save him.

Hyperventilating gave way to sobs, and Abel collapsed onto his hands and knees.

Goddess above, what he wouldn’t give to get Link and Lyra back, what he wouldn’t give to prevent the Calamity from ever happening, what he wouldn’t give to never feel like this again.

Why? Why?!

Abel cried until he had no tears left, until it hurt to breathe let alone weep, until he felt so utterly drained he might as well have been awake for a month. Something soft and warm nuzzled him, neighing and grunting softly, and he blindly reached up to stroke Ama’s face. The horse pushed against him again and Abel leaned into it, wrapping both arms around her neck as he tried to get some control over himself. The horse, despite being tamed only recently, was surprisingly patient in the hold, and it gave Abel the grounding he needed to finally regulate his breathing.

When he stood, he huffed out a wet, tired chuckle, petting the horse’s neck. “Thank you, girl.”

The horse huffed, bobbing and headbutting him gently in the chest, and Abel suddenly realized that this was not, in fact, Ama.

Ama was a black mare, with hair that was dark like the night sky. While this steed had charcoal hair, it was longer, with a dark chestnut coat save for white around its hooves.

There was a small scar on its front left shoulder, distinctly patterned, a downward circular slice as if a curved blade had tried to cut it.

Curved like a Yiga sickle. The only curved blade Abel was really familiar with.

Abel blinked. Stared at the scar, the familiar scar on the familiar horse.

“Epona…?” he breathed, looking up into the horse’s brown eyes.

The mare’s ears perked forward and she whinnied softly, tail flicking in acknowledgement. Ama roamed behind her, grazing.

Hylia above, it… it was Epona. This was Link’s horse.

How had…? Abel shook his head. He wasn’t going to question it.

And with that thought, shame immediately filled him. Because he… had questioned everything. Again and again and again. More than that, though, he knew without a doubt that he’d hurt Tilieth.

Abel glanced at the sky. He… couldn’t say thank you, but he would at least temper the bitter thoughts in his mind. Maybe this was actually a good sign, after all.

He didn’t dare hope, but…

“It’s good to see you again, girl,” he finally settled for saying. Epona bumped her head against him once more. “Let’s get you to your rider.”

XXX

Tilieth sat on the ground alone.

When soft footsteps approached her, she didn’t bother to look up and acknowledge them.

“Tilieth…?”

The voice belonged to Impa.

Tilieth just stared at Link, hands tangled in his hair, breaths shaky but regular.

“I, uh…” Impa continued somewhat awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

Sorry? What was she sorry for? This wasn’t her fault. None of it was any of their faults.

Til wished Abel would just understand that.

Her heart ached and burned. She felt so unbelievably alone in that moment, despite the comfort the Sheikah chief was trying to offer. Tilieth had always been surrounded by love and support her entire life until the Calamity, and then all she’d had was her husband.

And now even he was leaving her.

That’s not true and you know it, she reminded herself, despite tears beginning to spill out of her eyes, despite the way her breath started to hitch.

Why couldn’t Abel understand? Tilieth had been terrified to leave the Plateau, and yet he was upset at her for trying to find joy and hope wherever they went? Why couldn’t he just—why did he have to be—

Tilieth cried, leaning over her son.

“Look, I—I don’t know you, but,” Impa stumbled over her words clumsily, hand resting comfortingly on Til’s back. “But I can see how much you love Link, how much you want to help him. I… I know he’ll be in good hands since he’s with you.”

Tilieth wished she could thank her for her kindness, but words never came to her in these moments. She often hated that, hated that she had passed it on to Link.

Link’s silence leading up to the Calamity had been twofold and Tilieth had known it. Sure, he’d been stoic and calm just like his father, but underneath she could see the anxiety. Abel was quiet in his worries, too, but he’d take them out through anger and work. Link did that too, but also, like Til, he just shut down.

It didn’t make a difference now, she supposed, but she wished dearly she knew how to stop it. Impa at least deserved acknowledgement.

But Tilieth was so tired. She was so tired of having to hunt for hope and light, of having to be the one to bring it to everyone else. Why couldn’t others find joy in the world too and share it with her? Why did Abel have to be the way he was?

Why did any of this have to be the way it was? Why couldn’t Link just wake up, why couldn’t Lyra just be alive, why couldn’t her father be here to help her still?

“Why… why don’t we just go back to my home?” Impa offered. “Or—or the inn?”

Tilieth really just wanted a hug from her loved ones, honestly, but the kindness Impa was offering still warmed her heart. She nodded, sniffling, and let Impa pick up her son.

“Huh. I never expected Link to be so light,” Impa muttered, staring at him. “I mean, he’s so muscular and all. Or, well…”

He had been, yes. Before he’d started fading away into death’s embrace after the Shrine had been damaged. His muscles were still there, but much smaller, and he’d definitely started to lose weight.

Tilieth burst into tears anew.

“O-oh—uh, it’s okay!” Impa hastily said. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

Impa sighed as Tilieth tried to control herself.

“I… I really am sorry,” Impa repeated, her voice much less frantic now. “Link’s my friend. I hate seeing him like this too. But… but I do mean what I said. I know you care about him and that he’s in good hands. It makes me feel better to know you’re taking care of him.”

“Y-you…” Tilieth tried to push the words out of her tight throat, rubbing her face to wipe the tears away. “You two were friends?”

“Yeah!” Impa eagerly answered, nodding. “We traveled a little bit together. One time I dared Link to eat a whole roast pig at one of the feasts people provided for the princess and he did it! Another time while we were traveling, he let me put flowers in his hair to cheer up the princess.”

The image of Link with flowers in his hair made Tilieth giggle. She tried to latch on to the idea, to the sweetness of the memory, the gentle love in the gesture, rather than the thought that she would never see such a scene. Her gaze returned to the statue of Hylia.

Oh, Hylia. I… I’m sorry to ask, but please… just… help us. I know you’ve been looking out for us, and I apologize to ask for more, but…

The breeze changed directions, blowing the scent of flowers towards her, and Tilieth sighed, her tears steadily drying.

Link coughed in Impa’s hold, startling both women.

“Guess some pollen got in his nose,” Impa offered feebly with a small laugh. “Let’s get to the inn.”

Tilieth sighed, following the chief. When they entered she watched Impa gently lay Link on one of the beds.

“Kollin will be able to help with the elixirs,” Impa said reassuringly with a smile. “He’s an excellent healer, I promise. He patched me up after the Calamity.”

Tilieth nodded, sitting on the bed. Impa watched her a while longer and then wrung her hands a little nervously.

“Is there… is there anything else I can do?” Impa offered. “I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

“It’s okay,” Tilieth said, finding her voice once more. “I don’t… please don’t take Abel’s anger to heart. He…”

He what? She didn’t really know. Abel had a horrible habit of not expressing himself well, far worse than Tilieth when her emotions got the best of her. Her issue was that she couldn’t control her emotions when they overwhelmed her, while he refused to even acknowledge them.

She supposed some of this was her fault, then. She hadn’t checked in with him. But she’d…

Frustration bubbled within her. She naturally tried to take care of others, her intuition helped her break through to Abel at the start of their acquaintance and extended their relationship beyond friendship. But didn’t she deserve something in return?

Of course you do, and you’ve gotten that, she reminded herself, her chest tightening, her eyes watering once more. She couldn’t even begin to count the nights she’d spent sobbing in Abel’s arms when they’d first settled on the Great Plateau. She couldn’t recall how many times he’d told her it would be all right, that Link was safe now, that he would protect her and their son.

She hated this. She hated needing the comfort and not giving it back when she usually did. She hated that Abel was so upset and wouldn’t reach out, that she had to be the one to initiate it when she too was hurting. She hated that she’d let Abel be her stability when she hadn’t done the same for him. She hated that she had done the same and it wasn’t enough. She hated this entire situation.

She just wished things could go back to the way they were. She’d take the status quo on the Great Plateau over this.

But she couldn’t go back, and she knew that. So she had to find hope where she could. Because she couldn’t live without hope; she refused to.

Abel seemed to view her hope as some kind of weakness, as a childish thing, but her desire for it and her seeking and clinging it took more energy and strength than anything in her life.

Impa had apparently excused herself at some point, as Tilieth suddenly found the room mostly empty. The innkeeper was pointedly keeping herself busy with cleaning the other side of the building.

Tilieth sat on the bed alone.

The door to the inn opened, but she didn’t pay it much mind. Instead, she turned her attention to Link. When was the last time he’d awakened? Ah, that’s right, he’d had a few sips of water yesterday in the morning. He really hadn’t eaten much of anything at all the entire time he’d been out of the Shrine—the first time he’d woken up they’d had some broth ready, but he’d only had a sip or two—and it was beginning to worry her. She could see how his hair was dry and damaged, his lips cracked, how his skin pulled more easily than it should have. He was dehydrated and undernourished, and she couldn’t do anything about it. Link’s waking moments were so rare and unpredictable, it left her anxious just thinking about it. How would they even get elixirs in him?

“Why are you here?”

Tilieth jumped, startled, and looked up to see the warrior they’d met at the Dueling Peaks Stable. The young woman watched her with piercing eyes that held an intensity to them, reminding her strikingly of Link and Abel, though the girl’s were brown instead of the boys’ cerulean blue.

“I—Lady Impa suggested it,” Tilieth answered uncertainly.

“Why are you in Kakariko?” the warrior clarified, her tone unchanging from its monotone, interrogative manner.

“W-we…” Til glanced at Link, and fear ate at her heart all of a sudden. Kakariko Village was a refuge, but this warrior felt nearly belligerent all of a sudden. She tried to think if she’d done something offensive, or if the warrior had given some kind of sign of mal intent back at the stable, but all she’d done was show some kind of possible surprise at seeing them before abruptly leaving.

Wait. She probably recognized Link. All the Sheikah knew of the Hero, after all. They probably all knew he was supposed to be in the Shrine of Resurrection, too. Perhaps Impa hadn’t told everyone.

Did that mean she wasn’t supposed to tell everyone? They were walking around with Link in broad daylight. That seemed unlikely. She supposed this warrior hadn’t figured it out yet, then.

“The Shrine was broken,” Tilieth explained. “We came here for help.”

The warrior crossed her arms. “You won’t get much help here. Sheikah keep to themselves.”

Tilieth watched her hesitantly, curiosity bubbling in her. This young woman wore Sheikah clothes but clearly was a Hylian. It was a little confusing. Instead of letting her curiosity get the best of her, though, she asked, “Where should we go, then?”

The Sheikah warrior paused as if to consider, gaze drifting over to Link, and her eyes softened. “Nearly all of Hyrule is destroyed. But I heard that one tribe was least affected due to their location. You should go to the Gerudo Desert.”

“The Gerudo Desert?” That was so far from here!

“They have strong warriors,” the woman continued, staring at Til once more. “There are no major Hylian towns anymore. They’re all gone. Zora’s Domain is hostile, Death Mountain inaccessible, and no one has heard anything from the Rito. But I know for a fact the Gerudo were mostly unscathed. If I were looking for sanctuary for my son to heal, I’d go there.”

“You think the Sheikah wouldn’t let us stay here to rest?” Tilieth questioned carefully, not really believing such a statement but wondering why this woman seemed to think so.

“They’ll let you stay all you like,” the warrior replied. “But they won’t lift a finger for you outside of this village. If rest is all he needs, then by all means, let him stay.”

“You know the Sheikah went to the Great Plateau with him,” Tilieth informed her, a little bemused. “They helped seal him away so he could heal, they fought guardians to protect him.”

“And they died,” the warrior said coldly. “Alongside many other Sheikah.”

“Alongside everyone,” Tilieth corrected quietly, looking at the ground.

“Not everyone,” the warrior suddenly snapped, making Tilieth shoot a startled look at her. The warrior glared for a moment longer before looking away. “Not everyone. But they don’t care about that anymore. They did their search and rescue, they picked up what pieces they could, and then they just hunkered down and stopped caring about the rest of the world.”

“You… sound like you don’t like them,” Tilieth noted hesitantly.

“They’re my family,” the warrior replied with a strange dull heaviness to her tone. “That doesn’t mean I don’t disagree with their thinking. What is it you need for your son?”

“He… needs Spirit Orbs. We can collect them from the shrines. Do you… do you know where more shrines are? Like the one up on the hill? They’re the only thing that can heal him.”

“I’ve seen those shrines everywhere lately,” the warrior answered. “But they weren’t there before. Hopefully they don’t move before he can get to them.”

Well, at least Tilieth knew that wasn’t going to happen. They didn’t move, they were just unearthed by Abel and the slate.

The warrior shifted, growing less stern and asking in a softer tone, “Does… does he ever wake up?”

Tilieth smiled sadly. “Once every day or so. If we’re lucky we can make sure he drinks something. But it’s… not…”

Not enough.

The warrior slowly made her way to the other side of the bed, staring at Link. Tilieth watched her keenly, wondering where this sudden gentleness came from. The woman seemed to be a swinging pendulum, one moment harsh and the next kind. She looked so young – Tilieth wondered if this behavior was simply the product of growing up in such a world. She couldn’t have been more than twenty. Tilieth remembered her own life at that age and it was… vastly different.

“What’s your name?” Tilieth asked quietly.

The warrior didn’t acknowledge her for a moment, still watching Link, before she closed her eyes with a shuddering breath. “Sheik.”

It was certainly a curious name. Tilieth wondered if the girl herself had chosen it, as a Hylian being raised by the Sheikah tribe.

Sheik reached down slowly, hesitantly, her hand setting on Link’s shoulder. Tilieth grew a little tense but didn’t stop her.

Link’s eyes opened.

Sheik and Tilieth both jumped, caught off guard, and Sheik retracted her hand as if she’d been burned. Tilieth didn’t bother acknowledging it, instead scrambling for her bag to get some food in him. She requested hastily, “Can you get the healer, please? This might be the only chance we get to give him elixirs!”

Sheik nodded after a moment’s hesitation, rushing outside. Tilieth managed to sit Link up a little and got him to have some stew, and she was surprised at how long he stayed awake and how he actually even managed to try and chew some of the food, though it had all been pureed for him to drink.

He… he hadn’t done that before.

“Link…?” Tilieth tried hesitantly, hopefully.

Her son stared off at nothing, and she sighed.

The door burst open, making Til nearly jump out of her skin and spilling the rest of the food on the blanket. Impa and the healer, Kollin, were there in an instant.

“He’s awake?!” Impa said breathlessly.

“It won’t last long,” Tilieth explained quickly. “Please, the elixir—”

“Right here,” Kollin cut in, offering a half-filled bottle. “I didn’t have time to make everything, but it’s something.”

Tilieth nearly yanked the bottle out of his hands, turning back just to see that Link had fallen back asleep.

She could practically feel the chill in the room as everyone’s hope and urgency shattered. She blinked rapidly against the tears that sprang up, lowering Link to the pillow and fiddling anxiously with the bottle.

Sheik approached silently, staring at Link, and then kicked the bed frame, jostling him.

“What are you—” Til almost snapped when Link startled awake once more.

He—he was awake again?

Wait, what? He never woke more than once in a day!

“The elixir, hurry!” Impa insisted, waving a hand. Sheik sat Link up, directing his head towards Tilieth. He clearly didn’t really notice the jostling, but he was still awake.

Tilieth hastily uncorked the bottle before slowing her movements so she wouldn’t make him choke on it. Link drank tiredly, clearly running out of stamina, but he got half the contents in before starting to cough and forcing her to pull away.

“You need more Spirit Orbs,” Sheik muttered.

“So that’s… that’s how he’s been?” Impa asked.

Tilieth nodded, lowering the elixir bottle to her lap.

Everyone watched Link a moment before Kollin piped up. “Why don’t you take a break? Sir Link drank some elixir, let him rest.”

Sheik glanced back at the healer before lowering Link to the pillow once more.

“Well…” Impa started uncertainly before catching Til’s attention and smiling. “I was going to work on a plum garden I wanted to plant. Maybe you can help me?”

Tilieth stared at her, dumbfounded. The thought of letting Link out of her sight when Abel wasn’t around was incomprehensible, if not ridiculous. But they were in Kakariko Village. They were safe.

Link’s safe.

“I… yes,” she said slowly, as if such a thing were novel, as if gardening hadn’t been a necessity she’d handled on the Plateau.

But it was different. She wasn’t alone. She wasn’t alone. She was helping someone else garden, she was helping create something in a village full of people. There was an entire community here. A safe community, where Link could rest without worry of danger, where Tilieth could just be with others and enjoy herself and work on a project for the sake of working on a project and not because her family would starve to death without her efforts.

A smile slowly spread across her face, and she spoke with more conviction. “Yes. I can help.”

Despite the overcast nature of the day, Tilieth couldn’t feel warmer and more comforted as she went outside and dug her hands through the soil. They were nearly finished with the garden when a Sheikah rushed over to say someone was in labor, and Kollin and Impa had gone to assist. Tilieth completed the project, wiping the dirt from her hands, and decided to wander the village a bit, basking in its simple beauty, relishing the fact that, for the first time in a decade, she felt like she was a part of a community once more.

Some exploring yielded excitement that not only brought her joy but also grounded her back in her current situation. A korok was hiding amidst a few little statues, gifting her a seed and an armful of apples. A woman was seeking to rebuild her clothing boutique – though there were no visitors to Kakariko, she still wished to make clothes for others, and she assisted Tilieth in working with a half-finished garment to make a tunic for Link. It was colorful and beautiful, resembling a traveler’s attire from Hateno. Tilieth’s heart ached at the sight of it, but she was also satisfied with it. At least now Link had clothes that would fit him properly, and perhaps even keep him a little warmer. The leather belts and pauldron would also lend some protection.

The village was getting together to celebrate the birth of a baby girl by the evening, and Tilieth went to check on Link, when she heard the sound of a horse galloping and neighing.

Tilieth stiffened, knowing who it had to be. She had managed to get to the inn before Abel’s return, so it might buy some time as he looked for her. She wasn’t entirely sure she really needed it. She’d calmed significantly since his outburst. But…

She still didn’t want to deal with this. Not now. She was having a good day. Link was having a good day. And…

The door slid open. Feet shuffled inside.

The room was uncomfortably quiet. The innkeeper shifted awkwardly before exiting the building entirely, joining the festivities elsewhere.

“I’m sorry,” Abel started softly, simply. “I… what I said was… I know you care about Link. I know you love him more than anything. I’m sorry.”

The wound in Tilieth’s heart wanted her to push back, to argue, but it was a small wound, steadily shrinking in size.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened, though it had been a good while. Abel would be fine, fine, fine until he suddenly wasn’t. There were ques, but Til had missed them, as she herself had been dealing with everything too. She remembered, years ago, before the Calamity, when Abel had apologized for an outburst, and she’d actually been able to ask him why he acted in such a manner.

I… it’s my responsibility to take care of you, of our children, of the royal family. I suppose sometimes… I’m not as strong as I need to be. And it bothers me.

There was more to it than that, she was sure, and despite how much she had tried to reassure him… well. The Calamity had happened.

Tilieth sighed.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly.

“No. It isn’t.” Abel argued.

Tilieth felt her chest tighten. Why did her husband always have to be so aggressive anyway? She was trying to let the subject go.

Abel walked towards her, and she sighed tiredly, wondering if he would turn this into another fight. He hesitated a moment before sitting on the bed with her, hand moving to her face and directing her chin to look at him.

“You’re doing everything you can to help Link. You’ve gone through more than anyone should have to and you’re… you’re still trying to find the good in the situation, still trying to be optimistic. It certainly does more good than… you’re strong and wonderful, Til. I’m sorry.”

Til’s throat tightened up once more, and she couldn’t push words out, so instead she leaned in to her husband, who held her gently. She promised to tell him how wonderful he was later, when she was able. But for now, she let herself relax in the safe embrace, crying and holding him in return.

The moment was interrupted when Abel stiffened abruptly. “Til—Til get the food, Link’s awake—”

Tilieth’s eyes opened quickly, and she stared at their son. Link was indeed awake again, though not focusing on anything in particular. She swallowed hard, heart racing, and choked out, “Honey, he—he ate earlier, and drank some elixir, he’s—he’s waking up more—”

“He what?” Abel gasped, releasing her and reaching towards Link. “Link? Link, can you hear me?”

“I… I don’t know if he can,” Til explained uncertainly. “But he is more arousable. Sheik woke him up too.”

“Sheik?” Abel repeated, glancing at her. “The warrior from before?”

Til stared at him. “Wait, you—you spoke with her too?”

“Back at the stable,” Abel answered dismissively. “She… well, she saved me from an archer.”

Til stood, adrenaline spiking. “So you did get into a fight! I knew you were hurt! Abel, why didn’t you tell me?”

Abel turned to her sharply but caught himself and sighed instead. “I didn’t want to slow us down.”

Til grabbed the remainder of the elixir she’d tried to give to Link and held it out to her husband. He wordlessly took it and drank. The relief on his face was instantly apparent, and he relaxed his posture, seeming to sink more into the bed. Then he shifted his focus back to Link, but the boy was asleep once more.

“He’s been doing that,” Tilieth noted. “That’s the third time he’s woken up today.”

“The third time?” Abel repeated, surprised.

Tilieth smiled, running a hand over her husband’s head, gently untangling knots in his hair. “Yes. He’s getting better, Abel. It… it will be all right.”

Abel leaned in to the touch, resting his hands on her hips and pulling her back to him. Til sat beside him, letting him bury his head in her shoulder as she held him. Then excitement bubbled within her, triggered by Link’s awakening and the end of the tension between the couple.

Til pulled away gently but steadily, catching Abel’s attention, and she smiled at him cheerfully. “I made Link clothes. I haven’t had time to cook much, but I can make some dinner for us for the journey, and—the village is celebrating the birth of a baby, so we should enjoy that too!”

Abel watched her a moment, blinking and registering what she’d said, and he chuckled breathily. “Well, I mapped out more on the slate, and marked a few shrines. And… I found another horse. Or, well, she found me.”

“Another—you—the map—you went to a tower?”

“Yes, but—but come look, Til,” Abel insisted, rising and taking her by the hand.

The pair went outside, though they stopped at the entrance to the inn as Abel didn’t want to leave Link unattended for long. He whistled briefly, and Til saw Ama trot over, alongside—

“Epona!” she gasped. “That’s Epona!”

Epona nickered, ears perked forward, and she covered the extra distance to the couple while Ama huffed a small distance from the inn. Link’s horse paused at the stairs to the inn and cautiously put a hoof on a wooden step, eager to reach the pair. Tilieth laughed, clear and light and echoing in the air, and she ran down to meet the steed, hugging her neck. Epona swished her tail, turning her head a little so it nuzzled the back of Til’s, and she felt her heart soar.

“How did you find her?” she asked, not letting go.

“I didn’t,” Abel answered from the inn’s doorway. “I told you, she found me.”

“Oh, honey,” Til cooed into the mare’s mane. “You survived.” Then she burst away, even more energized, and looked at Abel in delight. “Hon, this is—we should celebrate! I can’t believe—this is so wonderful!”

Abel’s smile was warm and, dare she say it, hopeful, and he nodded. There was no way she wasn’t dragging him to the village’s festivities now. The discussion with Sheik, plans for their trip, talk of Gerudo Town, even cooking provisions could wait until later. She just wanted to bask in this joy now, her first feeling of freedom and joy, her hope strengthened and revitalized and rewarded.

They were going to be alright.

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

the heist!mark brainrot is consuming me…, just imagine mark n the viewer meeting for the first time as little kids to shoplift candy or smth together ╥﹏╥

the (brain)rot consumes!! I can relate

my dear anon... LISTEN. I am a big advocate for childhood friends captaineer, it's one of my favourite headcanons, but a childhood friends AU for the heist partners? that's something I hadn't considered until now. and it's adorable. I had to write something for it asap because I was INSPIRED. I hope you enjoy💖 thanks for sparking the idea!

Heist!Mark x reader (not explicitly romantic at all it's more about the friendship in this one) | Words: 1,317

You are in the kitchen of your shared home base, unloading the groceries your heist partner has just bought, when you pick up a bag of sour candies, smiling quietly to yourself. He's always been a fan of them.

Turning the packet in your hands, an old memory drifts to the surface of your mind:

You don't remember exactly how long ago it was, but you couldn't have been much older than maybe ten.

Your father was busy working, and had reluctantly sent you to the store with a small list after you insisted you could handle it on your own.

You slipped the folded piece of paper out of your school bag and scanned the list of items. At the bottom was a note that read, ‘Remember to stay hydrated, kiddo! :)’

You walked around the supermarket collecting the few things on your list and placed them in your trolley. On your way to the checkout, you passed through the candy aisle and slowed to eye the products on display.

‘Aren't you going to get anything?’

Your head perked up, shocked at the sudden voice addressing you.

There was a boy next to you with dark hair, looking at you inquisitively. He seemed to be about your age. He might have even been slightly shorter than you.

You must have been standing here for longer than you realised if it had prompted him to ask you about it.

You shook your head.

‘Why not?’

‘Oh, um. My dad only gave me enough money for what we need,’ you said timidly, showing him the list.

‘Ohh, that's too bad.’ Then, a small yet undeniably mischievous smile appeared on his face. He glanced discreetly up and down the aisle. ‘You know you can just — ’ and he took one of the small packets of candy off the shelf and slipped it swiftly into his pocket.

Your eyes went wide, stunned. Both from the fact that he was suggesting you steal, and at the speed and subtly with which he'd enacted the crime, as if he'd done it dozens of times before, if not more.

‘What are you doing?’ you spoke in a harsh whisper.

‘It's no big deal,’ he said in a lower voice than before, but one that still felt entirely too loud. He slipped another bag into his pocket.

You did not want to associate with this boy any longer.

You pushed your trolley away and towards the checkout, handing your items to the cashier.

You were unhappy to find the boy waiting for you when you exited the store, shopping bag in your hand.

‘What do you want?’ you asked, a little standoffishly, frowning at him.

‘There's no need to be rude,’ he said with a small pout. ‘Y'know, I think I might have seen you at school a few times.’

To your dismay, he followed along as you started walking home. When you pressed him, he simply said, ‘Hey, I'm not following you! I live down this way too, I promise!’

As the two of you walked, he chatted annoyingly by your side. What was more annoying was that you found you didn't mind his presence. You were a quiet kid and you didn't have many friends. Having someone to walk home with you was kind of a nice change of pace.

Just as you thought this, though, you immediately chided yourself mentally. You and him were not friends. You weren't going to be friends. This boy was a criminal and he wasn't even sorry about it.

You frowned in thought.

Oh no, what if he got caught? What if you went to juvenile jail for being an accomplice to theft? What would Dad say? What would Mom say? What if—’

‘Hey, are you listening to me? You haven't responded to anything I'm saying.’

You simply sighed as he pulled you out of your thoughts.

‘Are you still mad about the candy? I told you it's not a big deal.’

You stopped as you realised you were approaching your front door. The journey seemed to have gone a little faster than usual.

‘Really?’ you finally replied in an exasperated tone. ‘That was no big deal for you? That was stealing. Stealing is wrong.’ You couldn't believe you had to spell it out to him.

‘They won't notice a couple tiny bags of candy are gone. My mom says big companies that own supermarkets are greedy. They make loads of money anyway and don't pay enough taxes.’

‘Does your mom know you're a thief?’

‘W- well, no, but-’

‘That’s what I thought.’

He looked a little disheartened.

‘Please don't tell anyone. I'm sorry if I upset you,’ he said quietly, looking down.

You hadn't really expected an apology from someone like him. You sighed again.

‘I won't tell, but don't expect me to just go along with it. And don't act like we're best buds all of a sudden. We don't know each other. You don't even know my name!’

‘Well, what's your name?’

You gave him a slightly surprised look before telling him your name, albeit hesitantly.

‘Look, I have to get going now…’

You fumbled with the shopping bag as you reached into your coat pocket, feeling for the house key, when you suddenly felt something that wasn't there before. It made a crinkling sound beneath your touch.

‘You didn't.’ You pulled the candy out of your pocket. ‘When did you—?’

The boy grinned at you.

‘I thought you could have one of mine.’

‘I don't want your stolen candy!’

‘Judging by how you looked at it earlier, I think you do. And besides, stolen treats taste better!’ he called out, already walking away.

‘Wh- SHH!’ You hoped none of your neighbours had heard.

‘I'm Mark by the way! See ya, buddy!’

You stood outside the front door, dumbfounded.

Finally you let yourself in. Your dad wouldn't be home yet for a while.

You put the shopping away and sat down at your kitchen table, staring at the stolen goods in front of you.

You could try to put it back but… that would be more suspicious.

You figured, the deed had been done. There was nothing you could do now, so you may as well make the most of it.

You tore the edge of the packet and popped one of the candies in your mouth, savouring the sweet and sour combination on your tongue.

Maybe Mark was right. It did taste extra good. But maybe it was just because you'd been craving it.

What a weird kid.

‘Stealing is wrong, huh…?’ you mumble under your breath. You look down at the candy in your hands. It's not the same brand as the one from back then, but you imagine it tastes more or less the same, from what you remember.

Present day Mark is the one to pull you out of your musings.

‘Hey, what's with that face you're making? I know that look, buddy. Are you contemplating your life choices??’

You chuckle softly.

‘Just… got reminded of something. I suppose I got lost in nostalgia for a moment.’

‘Oh yeah? Penny for your thoughts?’

You turn and smile at him.

‘This just made me think of an annoying little boy stealing candy from a supermarket. And his reluctant acquaintance who ended up getting dragged into his antics for the foreseeable future.’

It takes a second for it to click.

‘Ohhhhh.’ You watch as realisation turns to him smiling fondly at the memories, which turns to him snapping his attention to you with a fake-offended look.

You laugh at his expression.

‘Wait, hey! Annoying?!’

‘Mhm.’

‘Excuse you, I was a wonderful, sweet and positively charming child.’

Your laughter rings out in the kitchen, full of mirth, and he shakes his head at you with a familiar lopsided grin, and you are so grateful for the cheeky little boy who approached you that day.

[haeroniel-doliet]

Holy hell the jumpscare of the timer I set to go off 5 mins before midnight made me think it was already midnight and I was about to be too late to submit my thesis but it wasn't!! And I fucking did it, with a few minutes to spare even!! Second thesis of my academic career done and dusted and miles better than the last one no matter what!!! Holy fuck I doubted a lot if I was gonna be able to pull this off but, I suppose theres nothing I've quite mastered from uni like pacing my work always right to the very deadline :')

[oldfashionedmorphine]

if yall knew what i went through to get this story done damn 😭

[thevillagequeer]

okay so first of all listen to The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance.

it's Dave's favorite song, do it for Dave. (it's also a bop, I knew this song before TUA and my jaw dropped when it was mentioned)

Now, here's an Umbrella Academy cold open we never got:

*The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance begins to play as the episode starts*

Now, we are in sun drenched Texas, 1963. The leader of the free world has just been shot.

David Katz is packing a bag.

He hugs his sister goodbye. His Uncle gives him a firm handshake.

Tomorrow morning, Dave will be at basic training. Two months from that--

Vietnam.

There is a montage of basic training, lingering moments of him disembarking for Vietnam, getting to base, Saigon, etc.

"From out of the East a stranger came, a law book in his hand, a man, the kind of a man the West would need to tame a troubled land,"

the POV shifts to someone in a dark suit preparing a sniper rifle and suitcase before taking the fedora that was beside the packing and putting it on.

"'Cause the point of a gun was the only law that Liberty understood, when it came to shooting straight and fast--"

A pause

"He was mighty good."

The short scenes continue, interspersing one another, the unknown person in a suit looking over papers, seemingly getting ready for something, Dave in the shit, fighting, camping, bleeding, and--

"The love of a girl can make a man stay on when he should go, stay on, just trying to build a peaceful life where love is free to grow,"

A sunny, warm shot of Klaus reaching out to frame Dave's face with his hands. It is a close shot, with the audience only able to see their faces from the cheek down to their shoulders, their smiles, and Klaus' hands, which are easily recognizable from the tattoos.

A shot of them embracing in the dark of night,

Another of them crawling through the jungle together

When the final showdown came at last, a law book was no good,"

The still unidentified figure it now in a heavily forested area, with similar foliage to what we've seen around Dave and Klaus, they are setting their things down and readying the sniper rifle.

"From the moment a girl gets to be full-grown, the very first thing she learns,"

Lingering shots on Klaus' actions as they head into the fight. Dave's last.

Klaus squeezes his hand for good luck, jingles Dave's dog tags where they rest around his neck, waiting for Dave to the do the same with his switched tags.

"When two men go out to face eachother, only one returns."

The US troops are position, fighting the Viet-Cong.

Everything goes silent. The fighting hasn't stopped, but there is no noise. No music, nothing.

A single bullet. Klaus' screams.

Everything returns to normal.

"Everyone heard two shots ring out, a shot made Liberty fall,"

The camera begins to track backwards, away from enemy lines, towards the thick wooded forest behind them.

"The man who shot Liberty Valance,"

The camera begins to slow, coming upon the figure with the briefcase and sniper rifle.

"He shot Liberty Valance,"

The camera slowly rises on the figure, from the grass, up to where they are kneeling, and to where they are holding the rifle. Their sleeve is pulled slightly down, revealing an Umbrella insignia tattooed there.

"He was the bravest of them all."

The camera allows a single look at an adult Number Five.

The screen goes black.

[orcelito]

Fixing my dialog up

Blurgh