#i couldn't let go either

[hansoeii]

I'm very much not normal about loki and mobius right now

[poepill]

happy belated valentines day quodo upon thee! originally posted on ao3 for the quodo minifest, this was my valentines for @chacusha, who organized the event! i had a ton of fun drawing them and im definitely looking forward to next year <333

+ bonus art based on the comic by Kate Beaton, Javert is in Slash Fiction:

[murdermitties]

Ravenpaw

[plantsjustwannahavefun]

What if I told you that Izzy's entire character arc is actually a metaphor for OFMD itself, as a show, and its journey.

The way Izzy started out as this weird, conventionally unpalatable character that didn't seem to amount to much from the first glance, yet unexpectedly ended up gathering a small yet substantial fanbase around him that recognised his potential from the start and was so unprecedently feral, vocal and dedicated that it became a sort of fanbase within a fanbase.

The way Izzy had such an incredible, amazing arc of character growth that even his worst haters were forced to acknowledge the importance of his character and his place in the story and appreciate Con’s talent as an actor.

The way Izzy went from “subtextually queer” (as in all of us knew of course but it was still subtle enough make a lot of the fans confidently claim he was straight…) to openly and proudly queer with one single scene after which no one could deny it anymore.

The way Izzy kept getting beaten down yet surviving against all odds. Literally having body parts repeatedly slashed off, and not only did this not kill him, the crew collectively used their creativity and good will to take something “damaged” and turn it into something beautiful (yes this is about the budget).

The way Izzy had always known that pirate life was unlikely to last long or end the way he wanted to because, in the end, they’d always be outsiders fighting the system (“The only retirement we get is death”, “It’s not about getting what you want”), but he accepted it and focused on the good parts, the things that really mattered to him and made him happy (“Not moving on is worse”; his speech about the crew as his family).

The way Izzy did die, in the end. Even though he didn't have to, even though it could have been avoided, and the justifications we were given fell short when all of the nuances and other angles were taken into account. Because the inevitable force of the narrative was stronger than him. Because characters like him were typically destined to die in stories like that.

But just because he died doesn't mean his story had been for nothing. He still got to live – against all odds, against his own expectations. He got to be reborn and experience this beautiful transformation, rediscover himself, find peace and happiness and people who loved him, and love them in return. Yes, it was short. So short. He should have had more time. But the little time he did have is unforgettable. It really is written in permanent ink. It will always have been, and nothing can take it away now. The crew mourned him and made him a beautiful monument. They refused to throw his body away into the sea. His body would continue nourishing their garden forever. They will move on, but they’ll never forget him. They’ll keep tending to his grave and planting flowers around it.

And the very last shot was that of seagull!Buttons landing on the grave. A little touch of magic. We don't know what it means. Izzy definitely seemed totally, irrevocably, unambiguously dead. The show itself told us so. And yet. You never know. The world's a strange place. Every once in a while the impossible does happen, and a man’s undying devotion and longing for the sea overpowers the mundane reality around him.

[dollypopup]

all this talk about Pen and Eloise mending their friendship but let's take just a second to be real. i mean really real.

if your best friend did to you what Penelope did to Eloise, would you ever trust that person again?

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

I was wondering what Akai is up to in the sweater weather AU, so here you go

I.

Akai Shuichi is a thrillseeker at heart, but even he has his limits.

So when his mother, conveniently pocket-sized but still as sharp as ever, threatens him with a gun and lays into him, not for faking his death, but, of all things, for not mentioning his partner to her, he privately questions her priorities but decides to tell her the truth. He certainly likes to live dangerously, but he wouldn't be alive today if he didn't know how to pick his battles.

While she seems initially confused, the conversation about Akemi quickly veers off-track when his mother asks him to repeat her family name. Miyano, as in, her sister's daughter Miyano Akemi. Shuichi didn't even know he had an aunt. Not that it matters much, since he knows Akemi's parents died years ago. Eventually his mother leaves him alone, both of them too caught up in their heads to continue the conversation.

Shuichi's not really sure what to feel about all of that. So he doesn't.

.

He's not always been good at managing his emotions, but it's pretty close. When his father taught him how to hunt, and the misery of seeing proud game succumb to his shots had almost swallowed him alive, something cracked under the pressure. And whatever that was, despite Shuichi's best efforts, it has never quite healed alright. It left him with a slight gap between his thoughts and feelings, giving him that bit of extra distance necessary to keep going instead of breaking down. He'd come to understand, then, with a clarity born from numbness, death as an integral part of life. It comes for all living things, sometimes too early, and there really is no way to escape it. There's no use in fighting. Better get used to it.

The FBI counsellor called it repression, many years later, and while it was not even close to immediate grounds for disqualification from the program, she tried to give Shuichi reading materials on mindfulness and self-reflection. He hasn't touched them; the ability has been too helpful so far. He would've shattered several times over without it; when his father disappeared and his world threatened to break apart; when he decided to leave his family, including an unborn sister, behind for the ghost of a chance to find his father; and most often since he went undercover for the FBI. There's no fooling himself, compartmentalization and repression are probably the only reasons he can talk about the years and years of dirty work, including everything from blackmail to torture and murder, without losing his sanity. People call him cold-blooded and emotionally unavailable, and mean it as an insult. Shuichi can't bring himself to care. Life is complicated enough without emotions thrown into the mix. He needs to control some factors and keep them simple. Himself, he can control - mostly. So he does.

And he's good at it, but some days, it's too much.

.

Dealing with Akemi's untimely demise has always been difficult. He made a mistake when he got attached to his target. He can't even claim that he didn't know better, at the time, because he did, he just chose to ignore his better judgement. Couldn't help it, really. She was so easy to get along with, gentle yet tough as nails in a way that gave him, too, the strength needed to make a name for himself as a hitman. Those first couple of months before he learned not to sleep too much, when he came back from his missions feeling stained in blood that never even touched him, when he maintained his cover throughout the day and threatened to break apart by night, she was there to steady him. And she allowed him to be gentle with her, to hold her and love her and promise her the world. He needed desperately to not just be a monster, and she managed to see the man in him.

Now he's left to wonder if the easy familiarity he settled into with Akemi was a result of their relation. Such a pointless question.

.

With the help of a few glasses of Maker's Mark, a pack of cigarettes, and a probably unhealthy amount of emotional distancing, he manages to lay the matter to rest, for now. Until the organisation is dealt with, he can't afford to let his emotions get in the way, so he buries them as deep as he can, and applies logic to the problem.

Ultimately, he reasons, rhythmically assembling and disassembling his IWI Jericho to give his hands something to do, it doesn't really change things. What matters is that he loved her and she died for it. Whatever he learned after can't tarnish that memory. It's a simple fact that he needs to keep going to avenge her; aside from that, all he can do right now is remember her, and honour her last request. That's the active parameter he can affect: he will see to it that Miyano Shiho is protected, or die trying.

Shuichi considers telling the girl they're cousins, and eventually, he will - if she doesn't figure it out before that, keen as she is. But for now, she still doesn't trust him, has too much to worry about, and honestly, for a supposedly dead man he has enough tetchy family connections already. Maybe, when all of this is over, he can tell Masumi - she's a bit too careless to be told now, and he hopes his mother shares this assessment. But his little sister is great at breaking the ice, and he's sure she would love to hear she has more family. It might do Shiho well, too, knowing she isn't as alone as she might think. Their family is odd enough that she'll fit right in.

He's not sure he'd wish it upon her, though. Dealing with his darling mother always involves a headache of some kind. He is reminded once again why he didn't join the MI6, and why he tries to keep contact with her to a minimum. Still, somewhere deep down and buried, he's glad she seems to be well enough to feel like going out and threatening him. It's almost cute, even if she's deadly.

.

Despite his best efforts not to let it affect him, emotional exhaustion sticks to him through the next couple of days, uneventful as they are. Sleeping would probably help, but he keeps himself awake with coffee where he can, only napping a couple hours a day. Shuichi's life is one of constant vigilance, of surveillance and planning and striking at precisely the right time. And it suits him just fine, patience is in his nature. But while he's not on a mission, it sometimes leaves him just a little bit bored. The Kudo library is extensive, but there's only so many mystery novels he can read before his mind starts to wander. Trying not to think of Akemi's death is like trying not to think about pink elephants once he has been reminded of them. The comparison is uncharitable, and he knows she wouldn't appreciate his brooding, but it's not like he has much else to occupy himself with. Yes, there are the preparations for a joint operation against the organization coming up in a little over a month, and there's a class Okiya Subaru has to attend Tuesday evenings, but it's not like they require his full attention. He still tries to give it to them.

II.

Shuichi's not sure whether it's a blessing or a curse that he's meeting with Furuya Rei a couple of days after the ill-fated encounter with his mother.

Their relationship is tumultuous at best, and murderous at worst, complicated in the way all interactions containing Furuya tend to be, as the man is dictated by exactly the kind of emotions Shuichi tries to avoid. Granted, it is a rather one-sided disagreement; as with most things, Shuichi has no strong feelings about Furuya. He respects the other agent's abilities, particularly the fact he is still undercover, and teasing him is surprisingly fun. That's about it. Shuichi's keenly aware of Furuya's flaws, but as long as they don't bother their operations, he's not going to do anything about them.

In fact, in the last weeks - months really, at this point - he's been enjoying going along with Furuya's whims, meeting him to exchange the sweaters he seems to be so obsessed with. When he's not trying to hound him, Furuya can be somewhat decent company, chattering away about the mundane things that irritate him. Until he realizes he's been too pleasant, at which point he gets a little volatile to make sure Shuichi understands they're not actually friends. It's nothing Shuichi can't handle, and to be completely honest, he appreciates a little less boredom in his life.

Today, though, doom and gloom and failure still on his mind, he's not really up for playing games with the PSB agent. They know each other better than anyone else alive, aside from maybe Morofushi. Furuya will understand.

So he prepares a bag, shoves the sweater Furuya requested in, double-checking it's the right one because he really doesn't need another lecture right now, and waits for the agent to break into the Kudo mansion so he can hand it over and be done with it. Considering he's an ally now, Shuichi would offer him a key, but he's got the distinct impression Furuya would somehow misconstruct it as an insult to his abilities.

.

Exactly five minutes ahead of schedule, there's the click of the first-story balcony door, and Shuichi pads down from the sniper nest in the attic to meet his guest. Wordlessly, he holds out the bag to Furuya in the hallway. "Not even a good evening? Lacking in manners as usual, Akai Shuichi." Shuichi shrugs, can't be bothered. Shakes the bag. "Here's what you came for." Furuya's eyes narrow, scan across his form, then his brows furrow. An expression Shuichi hasn't seen on him before crosses his face, and before he has time to interpret it, it's gone, replaced by a smirk. "Hey, Akai." He stretches, dangling his own bag overhead. "That takedown you performed on the serial killer two weeks ago. Teach it to me." Shuichi stares back, unimpressed. "Maybe next time, I'm not-" Two quick steps, and Furuya's in his space, eyes blazing blue, looking up at him so impossibly bright. "That wasn't a question, Akai." He grins, eyes shining. "Or you're not getting your sweater back."

Shuichi almost lets out a laugh. That's gotta be up there somewhere in the top five stupidest threats he's ever been issued. Which is really saying something, considering he spent his teenage years in a high school in the US, and then some more years with FBI trainees in Quantico. What is it with Furuya and his sweater fixation? Akai doesn't care, he can have them all if it gets him out of his hair.

Unfortunately, Shuichi's best death glare doesn't seem to have the desired effect. Determination is either Furuya's best or worst quality, depending on how much trouble his current agenda involves, and for the sake of Shuichi's time, it's probably quicker to go along with him than to try and forcibly relocate him, even if he's certain he could. With a quiet sigh he makes for the basement gym.

.

Where his temper shines through in conversations, Furuya's presence in a fight is that of a wildfire, contained in a person. When he fights, he burns, sucking the oxygen and attention out of his surroundings, doesn't allow for distractions or he'll singe and bite and sting whatever is in his path. He takes to Akai's instructions easily, and soon enough they're no longer practicing but engaged in a sparring match. Furuya doesn't leave him time to consider anything else, at all, and damnit, that fervour of his is contagious. The battlejoy kicks in, hard, and Shuichi finds himself mirroring the PSB agent's mad grin as they wrestle for dominance, toss each other into the mat, twist and turn and struggle on the fine line between play and serious fighting.

Once they're staying down on the mats, the battle is over quickly; one moment he has Rei in a full-body pin, sure of his surrender; only for the man to twist his legs, shift their positions, and straddle Shuichi, bending down to choke him. He's stunning like this, flushed and panting for breath, his scorching gaze focused intently on Shuichi and Shuichi alone, looking for an opportunity to make him yield. An effigy of life itself.

Shuichi can't help it; his heart soars, his blood sings, his body shivers. Rei is a pinpoint focus of light, and then everything goes dark.

.

Sweater weather AU masterpost

[gammija]

Jon: "Honestly, I panicked. Daisy's name came up first on my phone."

if that's because he went through his contacts in alphabetical order, that means he has Daisy in his phone as Alice. which i think is a v Jon thing to do

(Or his contacts came up based on the most recent, which would also make sense, but it could still be both!)

Basira: "None of us are who we were, Jon."

Jon: "No. I suppose not. In many ways it’s simpler now isn’t it? At least now our demons have names."

I wonder what demons of his own Jon's thinking about, that he didn't have a name for before the Institute

-

This statement on its own isn't the most flashy, but I really like how it puts the rest of this half of the season into stark contrast. Even though most people will be a lot more willing to forgive Jon for what he does than this statement giver, it still raises the question of, why exactly?

Is it just that she causes her victims to die, and he doesn't? How far does that go? How much suffering are you morally 'allowed' to cause other people if it saves your own life, if it saves other people?

How much does the 'good' these Avatars do in the world matter, compared to the pain they cause? Are they even doing good? The statement giver comes off as a conceited person too caught up in her own rationalisations to judge her actions clearly... though, might that not go for Jon as well? Now that he knows that you can quit the Institute, he can't even say that he has no choice but to take statements or he'll waste away - he has at least a chance to get out, too. A horrible one, but it IS an option. One that he explicitly decides not to try, at least not without Martin.

-

@a-mag-a-day last thought: Actually gouging an eye out with an awl isn't the hardest thing... Going through with gouging out the second one, is.

[intramoon]

Shiloh | High Elf | Tempest Cleric of Selune | Criminal | Paid The Price ⤷ Romancing Shadowheart, close friends with Wyll & Gale.

[shadowedresolve]

Zenkichi doesn't know what it is about this man.

Is it that he seems particularly approachable? Maybe, maybe not. In fact, it might be unfair, and completely inaccurate, but Zenkichi can't help but feel like he gives off a bit of a clumsy, unreliable vibe. Certainly, he's not the kind of person he'd ever consider a threat, so what is it about him that's caught Zenkichi's attention...??

As Pubsec, you tend to get an eye for when someone is suspicious, or doing something they shouldn't be. He doesn't think that's the case here - or at least that's what his instincts are telling him, but it's... well. Interesting, he supposes, that something's set off his gut feeling. Now if only he could figure out what it was trying to tell him.

"Hmm? Oh- sorry to stare." Busted, Zenkichi thinks as he notices the man looking back up at him after a moment. "I've been spacing out a bit... it's been kind of a long day. You alright?"

@moonsmultimusings ( starter for maruki! )

[therulerofallpotatos]

Spider not having the strength to leave a man (his father who had just saved his life no less) to die doesn't make him bad and I love him so much.

[tathrin]

If Finrod is Legolas's other dad, explain Lorien.

Reference is to this post, and also I'm tagging @z-h-i-e because this is their ship-baby, I just popped in to sprinkle some additional inspiration because my brain went "ooh hey!" when their post crossed my dash because that's the kind of supportive community fandom is supposed to be made of fyi.

Right, so. There's no sense of tone in straight-text communication on the internet, so I know that it's entirely possible that this ask was sent in the spirit of giggling-with-popcorn delight while you eagerly await the resulting explanation. It's equally possible that you're playing at being The Ship Police and challenging me in the expectation that I won't be able to make this Just For Funsies ship sail without floundering on the rocks of canon.

Either way: buckle up. Because the boats of Lórien don't sink.

Because when Legolas gets to the woods of Lothlórien with the rest of the Fellowship, he's delighted. He's never actually been here before! He's heard all the stories, and listened avidly, but. well. Thranduil and Galadriel both blame the other a little bit for the nasty way Finrod died (they know it's not the other's fault so they don't say anything, either to each other or anyone else but, well. it feels like it ought to be the other one's fault, somehow).

And there's all that tension re: Doriath still, and why Galadriel couldn't just pick-up where Melian her teacher left off and maintain the Girdle afterwards—because I'm not a maia, Thranduil, you ass! Oh, so you couldn't even TRY?—especially because she then proceeds to do basically that for Lórien just a few thousand years later...and of course Galadriel thinks it's Oropher's fault that so many of Lothlórien's elves died in the Last Alliance, because if only he hadn't been so reckless and pig-headed then surely Amdír would never have thought up that idiotic suicidal charge on his own...and if she'd maybe tried a little harder to rein-in the son/nephew of the Kinslayers, maybe Sauron would never have even made the Rings, and Mirkwood would still be Greenwood, which you'll note she can't be arsed to extend her convenient semi-girdle to either...and if he wasn't so damn prideful maybe somebody could help his precious stupid spider-forest...etc etc.

They aren't like. enemies. but they don't really get along anymore, either. They don't talk. (There's a reason the elves of Green/Mirkwood were moving north even before Sauron took up housekeeping in Dol Guldur.) So even though Lothlórien is like maybe a week's walk away, Legolas hasn't actually been here before. And he is stoked! Because he's always wanted to visit, but he didn't want to hurt his remaining dad's feelings by being like "bye, gonna go visit my aunt whom you haven't spoken to in like three thousand years, nbd!" so he never did — but here they are now, and it's part of the Quest, so it's not like Legolas just popped in for a visit, is it? He's doing something that just happened to bring him here, so Thranduil can't take it personally, and...well, here he is! At last! This is awesome! He's so excited to see his aunt's fabled forest!

And then they want to blindfold him!? He's FINALLY in Lórien, and he's not even allowed to look at the place!? This is his aunt's forest, for fuck's sake — he is an elf and a kinsman here, dammit! No wonder he goes from zero-to-sixty re: "golly Gimli don't be so stubborn" => "hOw dARe yOu!?!?!?" when the blindfold is suggested. He's not just pissed, he's taking it personally. Because he's family.

Okay so far so good, but when the Fellowship comes before Celeborn and Galadriel why doesn't anyone say anything about Legolas literally being their nephew, one might ask? Ah! Well, that's because we have Hobbits for our narrators, and they simply don't know elvish family trees well enough to catch that detail. Which is why when Celeborn says "Welcome son of Thranduil! Too seldom do my kindred journey hither from the North," it's perhaps a little more pointed of a statement than the Hobbits know. Celeborn is saying long time no see nephew, how nice of you to visit FINALLY. But Legolas and Thranduil have called themselves "Wood-elves" since moving to Greenwood, so the fact that he's actually half-Noldor just never gets mentioned, because it's not like it's relevant, is it? He doesn't mention being half-Sindar either. He calls himself a Wood-elf because he is a Wood-elf...by adoption. So why would the Hobbits even think to ask?

And we know that Galadriel uses ósanwë on everybody, so why wouldn't she be using it with her own nephew? What better way to have a private family chat, after all? And she doesn't say anything aloud to anyone while Celeborn is greeting everybody else, and it's not like Galadriel really needs to listen to the "hellos" either; perhaps she and Legolas have a little mental confab just the two of them while everybody else is settling in. You could easily write that in, if you wanted to, without breaking any of the existing canon.

After that, we actually have a perfect textural opening for Legolas to go hang with his aunt and uncle some more: while the rest of the Fellowship doesn't see Galadriel and Celeborn again until the Mirror and then their departure, the book says "Legolas was away much among the Galadhrim, and after the first night he did not sleep with the other companions, though he returned to eat and talk with them." So we know that Legolas is going off to hang-out with the Lórien elves...a.k.a. Aunt Galadriel. Probably sleeping in the guest bedroom and pestering her for embarrassing stories about his dads. And maybe asking her for tips on how to talk to dwarves without putting your foot in your mouth since she's clearly got experience.

And no, none of them went in for stuff like gushing hugs when they meet...but if they haven't spoken to one another in a few thousand years, and probably didn't spend all that much time together even before that (Galadriel and Thranduil weren't much in any of the same places after Doriath fell) then they wouldn't likely be all that cuddly with one another anyway, would they? Distant-but-fond seems like the order of the day to me, and you can definitely read their fleeting interactions in the book that way. (A kickass bow potentially strung with your own hair is a great gift for a nephew you don't know well who's about to go off into danger! I bet he could even shoot-down a Ringwraith with a bow like that!) Tense-and-awkward-but-trying-to-be-polite would work too, of course; depends on what kind of drama you want.

So yeah, actually I think it's perfectly reasonable to posit that Galadriel could potentially be Legolas's aunt; I've seen several fics that present Celeborn and Thranduil as cousins or some other close relative, and nobody gets shirty about the canocity of that kinship re: the Lórien scenes, so why wouldn't the connection be just as acceptable to come via Finrod and Galadriel instead? There's nothing in the text that I know of that says it can't be canon.

Anyway, Finrod-as-Legolas's-other-dad wasn't actually meant to be a serious "look how well canon supports this idea, it's definitely a very plausible thing that people should embrace in a wholly serious and canonical manner" theory to begin with. I was just having fun. Somebody said, "hey check out their weird rare ship, it's a lot of fun!" and my brain had a lightbulb moment and went "ooh what if you took that silly fun ship and leaned-in even harder with it, though?" and here we are.

Does a marriage between Thranduil and Finrod actually fit with all the canon of the Silm? I don't know, probably not; then again it might, simply because so much of the Silm is vague, especially when it comes to the elves of Mirkwood who barely even get mentioned once or twice. Personally I prefer having Legolas be born in Mirkwood and to be relatively young for an elf when Fellowship starts (there's no canon about that either way, I just like the vibes of it). However, this ship is a lot of fun too. In fact, I think it's already my favorite idea for an older-Legolas-with-ties-to-important-people take on the character, if that's how you want to take the character, simply because it is so much fun.

Do I think it's canon? No, of course not. But who cares? We're not writing Academic Articles on Accurate Tolkien Scholarship, we're writing fanfiction. We're having fun. So if you're a giggling-with-popcorn anon: good, awesome, glad to have you here enjoying the fun too. If you're a Ship Police Anon...well, acab and farewell because I frankly just do not have the time to give a shit about what somebody else ships or doesn't. Block the tag and move on.

[da-proti-toku-grem]

sorry i needed to say this somewhere and my mom isn't home rn so here it goes because this is making me too anxious

[dutybcrne]

Thunderings are happening, my brain has funneled off into hcs mode

[blujayonthewing]

[reaches to crush a big ant on my desk]

[at that exact second she stops what she was doing to wash her antennae and her little face]

[superconductivebean]

#596: wright has accidentally destroyed hp timeline but doesn't know it yet

ancient magic is no shit

[griseldabanks]

for the ask game, would you do #23 for link and zelda?

Let Me Count the Ways ask game

Prompt: "I feel like we've met before…."

“You only want to go there because you think she'll be there.”

“I do not!” Link retorted, hanging his helmet on Epona's handlebars while holding his phone to his ear with the other hand. “I'm going to study for midterms, like I said. Not my fault you didn't want to come along.”

“And watch Malon making googly eyes at you the whole time? No thanks.”

Link paused halfway through slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “What? Malon?”

He could practically hear the rolled eyes across the phone line. “Oh brother. She's had her eye on you since orientation!”

“Really? How can you tell?”

“Because I have eyes in my head!”

Suddenly, Link spotted a familiar pink backpack weaving through the tables outside the coffee shop, heading towards the door. “Sorry, Navi, gotta go.”

“Hey! Listen to me—“

He hung up and darted over to the front door, managing to reach it just in time. He grabbed the door and pulled it open.

The girl who'd been reaching for it started at his sudden appearance, then let her extended hand fall back to her side. “Oh...thanks!”

She smiled up at him before stepping inside, and for one glorious moment, their eyes met. Link grinned stupidly, but she'd already passed him.

Heart pounding in his chest, Link followed her into Lon Lon Cafe. He stuffed his hands into the pocket of his green hoodie, trying to act casual as he stepped into line right behind her. He glanced up at the girl behind the cash register, and the pleasant giddiness in his chest deflated somewhat as he remembered what Navi had said. Sure enough, Malon spotted him and immediately shot him a grin, tucking a lock of red hair behind her ear. And she kept glancing at him as she listened to the next customer's order.

Link looked back at the girl in front of him instead. Zelda. So was so pretty, her blonde hair pulled back in a half-ponytail, golden earrings dangling from her ears and catching the light.... And there was an elegance to all of her movements, even simply in the way she pulled her wallet out of her purse. Like a princess...if princesses ever graced college-town coffee shops.

Suddenly, she looked over her shoulder and turned to face him. “Hey, do I know you?”

The bottom dropped out of Link's stomach. “What?”

Zelda cocked her head to one side. “I feel like we've met before....”

Link swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “Uh...History 101. Professor Rauru.”

Zelda's face brightened with recognition, and somehow she looked even more beautiful that way. “That's it! So are you ready for—“

“Next!”

With a little start, Zelda quickly turned around and stepped up to the front of the line. While she was ordering her drink, Link couldn't help noticing that Malon wasn't smiling anymore, but answering Zelda tersely and stabbing at the register with more force than necessary.

When it was his turn to order, Link was a little nervous at how Malon would receive him, but to his relief, the second her eyes landed on him, a huge smile lit up her face again. He might have been imagining things, but he thought he detected a hint of sharpness in her gaze that wasn't there normally. “What can I get you?”

Link opened his mouth to reply, but she talked over him.

“Pumpkin spice latte, right? As usual?”

He'd actually been thinking of trying out something different this time, but she was already ringing him up, and he did like anything pumpkin spice-flavored, so he remained silent and just handed over a couple blue rupee notes.

Zelda was still waiting for her drink at the other end of the counter, and Link's heart skipped a beat when she glanced up from her phone as he strode over to her to wait as well. “So, what's your major?” she asked, her blue eyes bright and interested.

“Uh...undeclared, so far,” Link admitted, feeling his cheeks go warm. “I came in with an archery scholarship, but I don't know if that's what I want to go with....”

“Well, that's okay,” Zelda said. “You're a freshman, right? You've got plenty of time to figure it out.”

“Wait, are you not a freshman?”

Zelda giggled. “Oh—no, I'm a sophomore. I just didn't get around to history last year. I wanted to take harp lessons, and my schedule didn't work out.”

“So you're a music major?” Link brightened at that. Maybe he should've signed up for singing lessons or something after all.

“For now,” Zelda said with a thoughtful frown. “I love the harp, but I've been thinking about switching to political science instead. Do some real good in the world, you know?”

The more they talked, the more relaxed Link felt, just like he was talking to Navi or Saria—except that every time their eyes met, he felt a glorious swoop in his stomach. “Maybe your harp can usher in world peace,” he said with a grin.

As Zelda laughed, the barista slid their drinks across the counter towards them. “So do you play any instruments?”

“Oh, just the ocarina—“

They both reached for their drinks at the same time. Both froze, staring at the backs of their hands. Link's left, Zelda's right. Like a strangely geometric birthmark, against their pale skin was the clear outline of a triangle divided into four smaller triangles. On Link's hand, the smaller triangle on the bottom right was filled in; on Zelda's, it was the bottom left.

Link stared at their hands, the marks upon them perfect mirrors of each other. For his whole life, his soul mark had been there, as familiar a sight as the moles and freckles on his arms. He knew it was supposed to be a reflection of his soul, and the legends went that somewhere out there, his soulmate bore the mirror image of it. But who that person was, or if he'd ever meet them...that just wasn't something he bothered thinking about too much.

Just like anyone, there had certainly been times when he'd wondered who his soulmate was. Growing up, he'd compared soul marks with his friends—Saria had been extremely disappointed when she realized that the swirly mark on her shoulder was nothing like his soul mark. In idle moments, he would daydream about whether his soulmate would turn out to be someone he married, like his parents, or a really good friend, or maybe even one of his children someday.

But then life got busy, and there was no time to think about something so frivolous when school and archery club ate up so much of his time. If he ever met his soulmate, he would deal with it then.

Then was now.

Slowly, Link's eyes traveled up Zelda's arm to her eyes, which were open wide with shock. “Does this mean...?”

“You're...m-my....”

“Oh my!” Zelda's face instantly grew as red as a tomato, and she whirled away from him, covering her cheeks with her hands. Link's eyes were glued to the back of her right hand. The soul mark was unmistakable.

Without warning, Zelda began speed-walking back through the cafe, almost knocking into several people on her way out.

“Wait—Zelda!” Link grabbed both of their drinks and rushed after her, finally catching up to her where she had collapsed into a chair at one of the tables under an umbrella out front.

Hesitantly, Link set Zelda's drink down in front of her, then slipped his backpack off his shoulder and sank into the chair across the table. He looked over at her staring fixedly at the cast-iron tabletop as if she could melt it with a glance.

Just to have something to do, Link sipped his pumpkin spice latte, but it scalded his tongue, so he set it aside.

She was so pretty, even with the blush extending all the way down her neck. Actually, the blush made her look even prettier, the pink tinge of her skin setting off the pink shirt she wore.

She's my soulmate, he thought numbly. All I wanted was to talk to her, maybe ask her out eventually...and she's my soulmate. The most important person in my life.

“Um...sorry,” Zelda said with a shaky laugh, looking up at last and tucking a strand of golden hair behind her ear. “I didn't mean to run out, I just...that took me completely by surprise!”

“Yeah, uh...m-me too.”

They both realized at the same time that they were staring at each other's hands, and broke into nervous laughter.

“So, we're...soulmates.” Zelda let out a long breath. “No, saying it out loud didn't help. It still doesn't sound real.”

A sudden thought occurred to Link that made his heart sink. “Hey, um...just because of this,” he pointed at the back of his hand, “that doesn't mean we have to...I mean, it's just a legend. You don't have to feel, like, obligated to...to hang out with me or....”

To his relief, she smiled sweetly at him. “You're right. But...I'd still like to get to know you. If...you don't mind.”

“No, of course!” Link said, a little too quickly and too loudly. He cleared his throat, his cheeks burning again. “Can I buy you coffee or something sometime? I-I mean, I know we already got coffee, but....” Crap, he was making such a fool of himself....

But Zelda just giggled, hiding her smile behind the hand that bore the mirror image of his soul mark. “Yes, you can take me on a date sometime. But, um...what's your name, anyway?”

“Oh!” They'd been talking all this time, and he still hadn't introduced himself. “It's Link. Nice to meet you.”

Zelda cocked her head to one side. “Link...strange...it feels somehow familiar....”

Link realized he'd felt the same way, the first time he'd learned Zelda's name. He'd passed it off as merely thinking it was a pretty name, but...maybe it was a sign that their souls were bonded to each other.

Either way, as they sat at the coffee shop and continued to get to know each other, everything felt right with the world in a way it never had before.