#i probably automatically put

[sonknuxadow]

collection

[clumsypuppy]

learning abt friendship decay and "not reaching out to your friends for months at a time unprompted is not neurotypical behaviour" has me feeling a certain way

[acornered]

AU Idea: Mermaid!Glinda has a crush on Elphaba and dreams of being with her, too bad she’s (allegedly) allergic to water! So Glinda makes a deal with the Sea Wizard to become human for three days so she can visit Elphaba and woo her just in time before the third sunset!

Listen, this is so goated because in the OG little mermaid fairytale, the mermaid literally dies tragically, dissolving into seafoam, and it would be so delicious, so tragically beautiful, to subvert it by having Elphie be the one to dissolve to save her doomed mermaid love. Rotating this in my brain fr.

[meganelixabethh]

Morgan, gripping the car door so tight his knuckles are white: Emily! Slow down! Please!

Emily, who learned to drive in Europe where they have manual cars and roundabouts, going at around 150mph: it’s a straight road and I’m driving a go-kart why would I slow down?

[smytherines]

I had a lot of fun writing this one. I think reintegrated Tatiana Slozhno sort of necessitates a different style of writing than what I usually do, so I got to be very spontaneous and informal with it and just get out of my own way for once, and I'm really happy with the result

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What is or was the color of your mother's eyes?

She blinks. She doesn't know. She blinks again. Shouldn't she know? The voice on the intercom is cheery, and the room she's in is clean and well-appointed, and shouldn't she know the color of her mother's eyes?

Panic curls in her stomach and dread creeps up her spine as she realizes she cannot remember. She can't remember her name. She can't remember picking out the blouse and skirt and heels she is wearing. She can't remember how she got here, or where here is, or what here is. 

The voice on the intercom says something, but she can't hear it. She launches herself at the door again, banging at it until her fists are sore. Screaming. Begging to be let out. Threatening and cajoling, kicking until the toes of her dark blue pumps are scuffed and deformed.

The voice on the intercom speaks again, but all she can think about is leaving. She steps out of one mangled shoe, holding it in her hand like a weapon, ready to strike the moment the door--

"Jesus, what the fuck?" It's Curt. His voice is high and loud and alarmed. Curt is here in front of her. In his house, his hands held up in front of his face like he's about to be--

Tatiana notices the boot in her hand, inches away from smashing into him. But that can't be right. She was just... 

Shit. Reghabi told her to stay put, but she had to see him. Curt. Her friend, Curt M. 

Mega. His name is Curt Mega. 

And he's staring at her, equal parts confused and irritated, because while she knows him, he does not know her. For part of her, he's the only friend she has. For part of her, he's a stranger. For this version of him, she's nothing but the lunatic who accosted him at the automat.

Her head hurts.

She slowly lowers the boot until she ends up dropping it onto the floor. Curt relaxes, sort of. He runs his hands through his hair. He checks it a lot, or at least the other one did. 

But it is him. Not the same him, but it looks like him, and talks like him, and has the same red-rimmed eyes as him. So it must be him. And if it's him, she can trust him. If it's him, she'll be safe. 

Tatiana follows him down the stairs, into the basement, watches as he takes the cover off of a large brown couch and hands her a sleeping bag. And the whole time she can still hear it in her head.

What is or was the color of your mother's eyes?

She doesn't know.

"Well-- uhhh--," One of his hands rubs anxiously at the other, "you can sleep down here tonight. And tomorrow we can..." He nods, but doesn't finish.

The basement is sparse, just the couch and a few boxes piled up, but it's warm. And she is so tired. 

There's a cigarette case-- silver filigree-- and a matching lighter on the little makeshift table near the couch. She reaches for it on impulse, because who wouldn't want a cigarette after the night she's had? Curt snatches it off the table, clutching it to his chest. 

"I wouldn't have taken you for a smoker," she manages. She can spot nicotine stains better than most. She was trained to be observant. 

"I'm not." His face twists uncomfortably. "It's... someone I knew."

Curt opens the case reflexively, clearly familiar with it. He examines the contents carefully. And finally, reluctantly, he hands her a cigarette and lights it for her. The case and the lighter go into his pocket. 

"I always wondered why you were so sad." She takes a drag. The tobacco is old and stale, and it stings her lungs. 

"What do you mean?" Curt asks, his voice oddly low and rumbling, shifting his weight back and forth between his legs the same way her friend does. Restlessness spilling out of him like a pot boiling over.

"Down there." She takes another drag, the pain in her head overwhelmed by lightheadedness and nausea. "Sometimes when you came in, your eyes--"

She ashes her cigarette.

"You're even sadder here." Tatiana finishes quietly. 

He looks away like he knows.

Tatiana wonders if that is the kind of thing you're only supposed to say to a friend. It's been so long, she must've forgotten the rules.

Curt clears his throat. He won't meet her eyes now.

"Okay, well... if you need anything I'll be upstairs."

Upstairs with the empty liquor bottles. Upstairs with the reason why Curt M. always smells of alcohol, why he shakes and sweats at the end of the day. Upstairs with whatever thing is haunting him. She knows the feeling well.

What is or was the color of your mother's eyes?

She still can't remember. She isn't sure if she ever knew. How old do you have to be to remember a detail like that? 

If she thinks carefully, she can remember golden red hair shining in the sun, a faint melody ringing in her ears, deft fingers braiding her hair.

She can remember the state facility, with its grey walls and the stench of antiseptic. The way light twisted and warped the dark hallways. 

She can remember the sweater with her initials hand-stitched into the collar, burned in front of her for failing an objective.

She can remember the people she has killed and the ways that she killed them. 

She can remember taking a job with Chimera to protect a family which exists only vaguely in the corners of her memory.

What is or was the color of your mother's eyes?

But not that.

Curt is fiddling with the boxes, like he wants to leave but doesn't know how.

Tatiana takes a final inhale, stubbing the cigarette to save the other half for morning. She crawls into the sleeping bag, pulling it up over half her face. She wants to disappear in it. She wants to go back. 

She hears Curt moving something as her eyes drift closed.

When she opens her eyes it is pitch black. 

She struggles out of the blankets, wearing her older brother's boots with newspaper stuffed inside them, and even in her coat and her boots she is the coldest she has ever been. 

She can just barely make out the shape of the room now. She creeps along, hands held out in front of her, needing to find her way out. 

She steps into the doorway and she can see a faint light. One of the kitchen chairs her grandfather made is in the fireplace turning to ash. She moves toward it in a trance. It looks warm.

"Tanechka, you should be in bed." Her mother's golden red hair takes on the glow from the fire as she approaches.

She kneels down in front of Tatiana, and sweeps her hair back, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

What is or was the color of your mother's eyes?

She watches as Curt's shadow disappears up the steps, and she whispers.

"Blue."

[crowned-clown-rising]

A little bit of me over-analyzing Nevra :) again

Something I've noticed about Nev in New era is that almost every time he is giving orders, he uses expressions like "I suggest…" "If everyone agrees…" "If it's okay with you…" and is open to new ideas and suggestions, which… I love of him.

I wasn't sure whether he did it just to give the people he's commanding a false sense of control and keep them appeased or bc he genuinely is being considerate, but now I'm inclined to say it's genuine. Because!! hear me out!! the moments when there is really no other choice he never asks for anyone's permission. He can be quite assertive like that. (Like when Erika complained he hadn't asked her opinion on flying on dragon back and he goes something like "Because I didn't ask lol. You just have to.")

[talentforlying]

@wingdingsandbrokenstrings: 8. How loose is their use of the phrase ‘I love you’? — CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONS

sincerely? sphincter-tight. the poetic answer is that constantine doesn't say 'i love you' nearly as often as he wants to, or half as often as he feels it. the straight answer is, he never says it.

early on in life, the reason he didn't say it was because he never assigned any real value to the words: he never heard them from his dad or his sister, only on the telly or radio, or read in books. sure, there was an element of toxic masculinity at play, growing up being told it's unmanly to show or speak with frank affection, but that only furthered his lack of attachment to the phrase; it didn't create it. the words were alien to him from the start. in his teens and early twenties, he and his friends sometimes said they loved each other, but only ever jokingly or drunk; and that was sometimes dangerous, given that john was openly queer and a lot of his friends were men.

as time went on and john got older, he started to grow more familiar with the phrase in his own mind — if only because he often felt love so strongly that there was no other name he could put to the feeling that would clarify it for him — but the only person he ever really attributed it to directly in a romantic sense was his girlfriend kit ryan. even then, he was never able to tell her to her face; he came close, when she was breaking up with him, but never managed to finish the sentence. when that relationship ended, i think the phrase lost most (if not all) remaining significance for him, because what's the point in admitting to painful things like that when the feeling itself wasn't enough to keep him from driving away the love of his life? what's the point in admitting attachment if nobody will stay attached to him?

in canon, constantine never again got that close to saying 'i love you' to a romantic partner (we don't talk about milligan) and in my main verse, he still hasn't. he'll say it platonically on occasion — usually to chas or to his niece — or sarcastically to anyone, but almost never in earnest; if he's being sincere, he prefers to speak around it or substitute other, more innocuous phrases in its place. as he says in red right hand, "i could crawl face-down across an acre of glass, but frank affection floors me."

all that said? imo, he doesn't really need to say it out loud. anyone who knows him past the reputation and the bullshit can see plain as day when he loves someone, platonically or romantically. he wears his heart on his sleeve.

[radioactive-cloud]

what is so important that jan had to tell it to nace immediately after their astp homoerotic fighting?

source: x

[etapereine]

schrödinger’s gc favorite

[rohirric-hunter]

Trying to decide it if it would be morally wrong for me to start getting a little extra cash by selling mystery junk boxes on Ebay. I mean I think people know what they're getting into when they order those. And I can get a lot of mystery junk.

[rebirthdinosaurs]

spideypool aus are so hard to do and are often weirdly cast.

sometimes i come across a spideypool au where its your fav ship as spider-man and deadpool and i always have two many thoughts about it. its just always so hard to do correctly while making it seem in character for all characters involved, and it makes me a bit frustrated.

im aware its probably a stupid thing to be frustrated by, and that aus are aus and fics are fics and nothing has to be true to character or whatever, but ive just never thought it made sense and this is just a rant for fun anyways.

examples:

steve harrington/eddie munson (steddie obvs). people make them into this au and always make steve spider-man and eddie deadpool, and i think it makes sense reputation wise, but i dont think it makes sense morally.

eddies whole plot point felt like it was kinda abt how how people perceive him as a freak and hunt him down for a murder he didnt commit, and he kinda freaks out abt even the idea of him actually murdering someone- like, it feels like he literally would never, but thats deadpools whole thing. deadpool never really has moral dilemmas abt killing someone in that type of capacity.

meanwhile, while steve has only ever had a hand in killing literal monsters and losing fights with actual humans, i feel like he would have less of a problem than eddie with the concept of murdering someone.

bakugo katsuki/izuku midoriya (bkdk). obviously, same schtick of the one with the worst reputation (bakugo) being deadpool, and the one with the better/shakier reputation (midoriya) being spider-man, with both not really making sense morally. (shakier ofc meaning that within their peers they were viewed as one type of way at the beginning of the show and then viewed a different way gradually over the course of the show.)

bkg talks a big talk abt threatening to kill people and wishing death upon midoriya, but when hes kidnapped by the villains because of his violent quirk/attitude, its pretty obviously figured out that he could never kill like they do because his ultimate dream is to become the number one hero and killing instead of detaining is obviously not the way to do that.

midoriya, obviously, had his whole vigilante arc, and while i dont think hed point blank kill someone, i think he got a lot closer to actually doing it than bakugo did.

obviously i could sit here deliberating which one out of both examples has more of a dark/crude humor (dp) or more of a punny humor (sm), or which one is probably not worrying abt money (dp) and which one definitely is (sm), but my general conclusion is that deadpool and spider-man feel too nuanced to make into an au, and that neither of either pair fit enough to make it feel in character.

that all being said, this is just a pointless rant that doesnt matter, and this post is for fun just as much as the au itself, the people that write it and draw it and consume it. i just come across the au occasionally enough to have opinions on it that i figured id write them down.

[autism-corner]

fucked up

[muirneach]

i know having a female coach is still unique and considered a novelty to the league but tnt going on about her ‘talking to the players on the bench’ and stuff like that’s unexpected and rare. hey you know thats like her job right

[reminderstodothings]

hello, and please take this, your friendly daily reminder to brush your teeth thank you very much, and please, have the nicest day you can, until its once more time to play

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Breath of the Sky Ch 13 (Skyward Sword meets BotW)

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

AO3 link

Chapter 13 - The Failure

They needed to talk. They needed to plan.

Despite the overwhelming despair and uncertainty, despite the fear and pain, Zelda found herself growing motivated the longer she held the princess. She felt the fire returning, the stubborn determination that made a goddess let herself die and be reborn, the steadfastness that pushed her to seal herself away for thousands of years, the protectiveness that had led to the creation of Skyloft.

And so, after wiping the princess’ tears, Zelda had told her they were going to talk to Link. Both of them.

The champion had been easy to locate. He had been hovering outside, trying his best to look calm but easily giving away his concern with the way his eyes lingered too long on the princess, the speed at which he walked to her. Zelda had explained quickly that they needed to find her Link next, and they set about that goal quickly.

The conviction of a goddess mixed with the nervousness of a teenager, though, and Zelda fell into her habit of worrying when it concerned those she cared about… particularly Link.

“Okay,” she said as she marched ahead, nearly dragging the other two with her. “Okay. So. The plan—the plan is to seal him away. We can sort out killing him after. We can do that. We just need to figure out what’s going on with your ability to seal him away. And you—” here she turned to the champion, finger pointing with enough ferocity to be a dagger “You get to kick his ass, but I’m helping do that too because I want to punch his stupid face. I’m sure Link—my Link—uh, Cloud can help with that too, but we need to find him. This is just—this is fine. This is fine. We don’t need the Triforce yet, it’ll be okay. This is fine.”

The look exchanged between the princess and the champion implied that her ramblings were not, in fact, fine, but Zelda ignored it.

Her anxious energy began to grow frustrated as they wandered the castle. Link’s plight of constantly chasing her down was becoming extremely relatable at the moment. As they rounded yet another corner, Zelda felt relief at seeing a familiar colorful uniform with sandy blonde hair peeking out of the navy blue cap.

“Excuse me!” Zelda called, running towards the familiar guard. He genuflected when he turned and saw her. “Have you seen Link? My Link?”

“I know his location, Your Grace,” he answered. “I was actually heading his way. Would you like me to take you to him?”

Given all the information she’d been dealing with, and given all the running around she’d already done, the sheer comfort and happiness at not only hearing that someone could help her locate her husband, but that it was the one person who reminded her of Impa, made Zelda laugh and fall to her knees to be at eye level with the guard. She hugged him tightly. “Thank goodness! Thank you so much, I would love that!”

The guard stiffened under her hold, just as Impa had the first time she’d hugged her, but she didn’t care. Goddesses she needed some kind of stable rock to rely on in this place, and she didn’t have one, but this guard came close. She saw the reflection of the window ahead of her that he was looking at the princess and the champion, the former holding a hand over her mouth to cover a gasp while the latter watched the guard worriedly.

Honestly, these people. How did any society develop to be so emotionally stifled, anyway?

“I need to teach all of you that hugs are a good thing, good grief,” she chuckled as she pulled away. “But anyway, please do show us where Link is.”

The guard took a deep breath, nodding and rising. He guided them in silence, though the sights of the castle kept Zelda preoccupied – they were heading somewhere she hadn’t been yet, and though the stone walls all blended into each other to create a massive maze, she saw light from outside and grew hopeful. It seemed Link, just like her, didn’t care for being cooped up in this stone prison of sorts, as beautiful as it was.

Zelda had to admit that, though she wanted to help her people grow on the Surface, she was a child of the Sky nonetheless.

They wandered a path that seemed vaguely familiar from their expedition into the nearby large town, though the guard guided them down a road that Link and Zelda had pointedly avoided due to the place flooding with people. Eventually, they wound up near a tower farthest from the castle, overlooking a good portion of land and the town below. The sun was high in the sky now, and Zelda turned to the guard as they approached the tower.

“Is there somewhere we can get food in town?” she asked. She was well aware the castle had food too, but she… didn’t want to go back there.

“We can arrange to have lunch brought to you here, if you wish,” the guard replied. “But yes, there are many places in Castle Town where you can get food.”

Upon their arrival to the structure, the guard dismissed the two colorfully clad knights who had been standing post in the entranceway. He turned to face the group. “The Hero is inside, Your Grace. I’ll ensure no one enters.” His gaze moved beyond her, settling on the champion, and he spoke with a softer tone, “When time allows, Link, Princess Mipha wished to speak with you.”

With that, the knight moved aside to let them pass, standing guard. Zelda looked back at the other two, temporarily distracted—was there another princess? Did Princess Zelda have a sister that they hadn’t met yet? She shook her head, returning her focus to the task at hand. She could only gather so many people together at once, after all. It had taken half the day just to get to this point.

Motioning to the two behind her, she walked into the cavernous structure, hearing Link’s footsteps scraping the stone up above. They climbed a ladder to reach the upper level, the bright daylight dazzling Zelda’s eyes for a moment, and she saw the silhouette of her husband pacing back and forth, clearly agitated.

“Link,” she called with a smile, relieved they were all finally together. Her smile fell, however, at the distressed look on her husband’s face.

Link froze, facing away from her, holding himself with trembling hands. She approached him slowly, worry eating away at her already weary heart. When she was close enough to touch him, she wrapped her arms slowly around him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. “What’s the matter, Dove?”

Link felt tense under her arms, but then he draped his arms over hers and squeezed her wrists lovingly, stroking her hands with his thumbs. She shifted so she could stand beside him, peeking around his arm with a curious glance. His expression was soft, enchanted by what he saw, but his eyes were dark and stormy. He glanced at her, his heavy brow relaxing a little. “We started all this.”

There was wonder and a quiet timidity to his voice, awe and disbelief and acceptance settling into him. Zelda squeezed him reassuringly, cocking her head to the side and giving him a soft smile. “Yeah. We did.”

Link let out a shaky breath, and then he let her go, looking down. Zelda’s arms fell to her sides, and she grew worried as she watched him ruminate.

His mouth became a thin line. “And I… I screwed it all up. I cursed everything, everyone. I cursed them.”

“Link,” Zelda said, caught off guard. Although the guilt was gnawing at her as well, she wasn’t entirely blaming herself in such a manner. Demise had outplayed them, and it made her angry and scared and mournful, it made her question how they could actually defeat him if she hadn’t been able to as a goddess or with the Triforce, but she’d still placed the majority of the blame on the demon king himself, not her or Link. Her husband’s worries were clearly eating him alive. He hadn’t even noticed that they weren’t alone.

“Don’t,” Link immediately hissed, growing stormy. “Don’t even try it. You did everything right, you did your part, you trusted me to finish things and I didn’t.”

“What are you talking about?” Zelda asked, putting a hand to his cheek. “Link, you defeated him. We had no way of knowing—”

“I did,” Link spat, pulling out of her reach and turning away, his hands shaking as he clenched his fists. His shoulders hunched and his entire body was so tense it was ready to snap. “He said it himself. I thought—I was such an idiot, Zelda, I—I thought—he started speaking about how his hatred would follow my spirit and your bloodline, and it sounded like the dying words of a monster, I—I didn’t realize it was a promise, a curse, that he was—I didn’t—I d-didn’t—”

Link’s body stiffened even further as shuddering gasps and hiccups interrupted his words, and he bowed his head, hugging himself. Zelda immediately rushed around him to face him fully once more, dragging him into the tightest hug she could muster, willing all of her love into it as her mind whirled.

“You had no way of knowing,” she repeated as she processed what he’d said. What promise was he speaking of? Did it even matter? “And who’s to say it was a curse right in that moment? Who’s to say it wouldn’t have happened whether he spoke it or not? Who’s to say there was any stopping it? Link, I was a goddess. I was a goddess and I couldn’t stop him. You did everything you were meant to do – you solved the puzzles, you tempered the Goddess Sword and made it into the Blade of Evil’s Bane, you traveled through time, you got the Triforce and used it to kill him. You beat him. It was Ghirahim who screwed everything up.”

Ghirahim. It was Ghirahim.

Was that truly why they were in this mess? The realization struck her as she spoke the words, because they were true – she’d exited her slumber because Demise had been killed, after all. Ghirahim was the one who sabotaged it, but Link had ensured that…

“What exactly did he say?” she asked, pulling away to look her husband in the eye.

“He said… he said his hatred never dies. That it would be born again and again, that those who share the blood of the goddess and the spirit of the hero would forever be bound to this curse: an incarnation of his hatred would follow our kind forever, dooming them to darkness and bloodshed.” Link said slowly, refusing to look at her.

Zelda stared at him, dumbfounded. Why… why hadn’t he ever mentioned this before?

As if reading her mind, he stepped away from her, shaking his head and saying, “I—I thought—he was defeated, Zel, I stabbed him in the chest, I thought it was over. The amount of times Ghirahim would give some speech or another despite being defeated, the words were meaningless at that point. Just some other enemy spouting hatred while he bleeds to death. The sword… Fi told me to raise the sword, that it would absorb the remaining evil, that she would seal him away as designed. I didn’t—I didn’t realize—what did I do wrong?”

The trembling of his tone tore at her heart, and Zelda tried to walk towards him again. She couldn’t fathom why Link wouldn’t have mentioned this, but at the same time, his words made sense—and brought so many more questions to mind. How many times had he fought Ghirahim, anyway? The more she considered it, the more she realized she hadn’t really asked much about his adventure. Their time after that journey had been spent recovering and then pointedly avoiding the topic altogether.

Goddesses above, this was all a mess.

“Impa was right,” Link said suddenly, his voice no longer trembling, but so, so dark. “You were wrong. Hylia was wrong. I’m no Hero. Even Fi has decided that! She already chose a successor, after all.”

“Link,” Zelda tried to argue, immediately growing agitated. This sort of talk wasn’t going to do them any good, and she hated seeing him like this. “This isn’t—I know—”

Link’s eyes narrowed at her as if she were an enemy. The look stole her voice from her throat and made her blood freeze. She’d never seen Link this upset. “Yes, you know. Your Grace knows everything. You always did, stringing me along without ever telling me everything until it was too late to even stop you from—from—How does it feel to not have all the pieces until it’s too late? You were wrong.”

Zelda took a step back, her breath sucking in like a gasp as if she’d just been smacked. Link sighed, sensing the change in atmosphere, immediate regret flashing across his face before he finally seemed to notice the other two, who at this point were practically trying to disappear into the walls.

Link’s eyes fixed on the champion, and then he shook his head. The fight quickly drained out of him, but so did any desire to continue talking. He moved quickly towards one of the openings and leapt out of it. Zelda didn’t follow.

The champion ran across the way to peer over where Link had jumped. The princess slowly walked towards Zelda, who was still trying to catch her breath.

There was silence for a long time as the princess hovered near her, as she tried to catch her breath, as Link’s words played over and over in her head.

“Your Grace…?” The princess began hesitantly, a tenderness and shyness to her voice.

Zelda burst into tears.

You always did, stringing me along without ever telling me everything until it was too late.

Guilt sprang forth anew, revitalized by her husband’s accusations, having been squished again and again by both her and Link. It reared its ugly head, reminding her that the fact that Link had been dragged into all of this was very much her fault. Despite being the best fighter among the knights of Skyloft, Link was a softhearted young man through and through. She should have never—but—what choice did she—

Zelda continued to cry, bending over and hugging herself and falling to her knees. Her hiccups and sobs echoed in the area, lost to her own whirling mind but very much laying heavily on the other two occupants.

Link, Champion of Hyrule, felt very much out of place. But he also felt very desperate to try and help. He made his way to the goddess, crumpled on the floor, and his heart hurt to see her like that. He knelt carefully, gently resting a hand on her shoulder, desperately looking at the princess for help.

His own mind was whirling as much as everyone else’s likely was. The words that had been spat out by the Hero of Myth and Legend no longer held the same sting to them. Instead, they rang with such a heartbreaking familiarity, all the way down to the misplaced vitriol.

Zelda. He’d sounded like Zelda.

Never in his life had Link considered that if he ever met the Spirit of the Hero, it would act exactly as his dejected princess did.

He wanted nothing more than to reassure the weeping goddess that it wasn’t her fault at all, just as it wasn’t his fault that Zelda struggled to fulfill her destiny while his came easily. He wanted to tell her that the Hero just needed time and help, just as his princess did. But he was in absolutely no position to do so – he didn’t know what words he could say to reassure Hylia herself, nor could he brainstorm such a conversation with the princess as she herself was just as much a culprit of such behavior as the Hero was. Though, to her credit, she was trying to improve that, hence their budding friendship. But…

Desperate, Link looked pleadingly at Zelda, motioning to the goddess with his head. Do something.

The princess held her hands in front of her chest anxiously, one hand playing with the her wrist. “Your Grace… I… I’m sure he didn’t…”

Hylia continued to cry, not acknowledging either of them. At least she wasn’t upset that Link was touching her. He really wished he could do more.

Link thought of suggesting that they get lunch, but he had a feeling his own love for food would not help the matter. Hylia didn’t seem like the thought of a delicious meal would cheer her up.

The champion was quickly running out of ideas, just as his friend seemed equally clueless. However, Zelda finally knelt down as well, ignoring the dirt she was getting on her dress, and placed her hand on Hylia’s other shoulder. “Your Grace, I’m… I’m sorry.”

Hylia glanced up, eyes puffy, tears staining her flushed cheeks. It was… not a look Link would expect from a goddess.

He supposed he had never thought a goddess could get upset like this. He remembered her radiant smile and eagerness to befriend earlier in the day, and his heart ached even more.

He opened his mouth to speak, but still found himself choking on words. He didn’t know what he could say to help her, what would be appropriate, what would be helpful. Hylia’s gaze was fixed on the princess instead, and Link hesitantly pulled away to give the two some space. Zelda’s eyes quickly darted to his, pleading for support, but he didn’t know what to do.

Hylia stole Zelda’s attention anyway as she hiccupped and shook her head, her gaze dropping to the floor again as she squeezed her eyes shut. The princess shuffled a little closer. Link stepped further away, trying to figure out how he could help, what he could do. He could at least maybe get them some food, giving Hylia and her descendant time to regain composure, and then he could help them in that regard.

Sliding down the ladder, Link continued to hesitate as he dragged his feet to the exit of the guard house. His father was surprisingly missing, despite having been standing guard, leaving Link a little disappointed. He doubted his father could give him advice on the matter, but it would have been nice to at least see him. Instead, Link fumbled to follow through on his decision, feeling like it wasn’t helpful but not knowing what else to do.

“Oh, Link! There you are!”

Startled, Link turned to see his friend, Mipha, approaching, looking relieved. She smiled, red scales glowing in the noon sun, and Link felt like he was drowning in the ocean and just finally saw a lighthouse guiding him.

Link strode up to her immediately, hands gesturing frantically with words he couldn’t piece together, and his friend quickly noticed his distress. “Link, what’s wrong?”

“He—she—” Link spat out, his chest about to burst, trying desperately to hold the words in but unable to do so. He wasn’t sure this was appropriate to share, but by the goddesses he needed to say something. “He’s just like Zelda.”

The words flew out of his mouth like an arrow released from a bow, and he nearly collapsed onto the nearest bench, overwhelmed and exhausted at holding it in for so long, at the sheer relief that nearly drowned him and screamed he doesn’t actually hate me. Mipha slowly sat beside him, watching him hesitantly. He shook his head, leaning over until his face was buried in his hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Well…” Mipha said slowly. “You… could start by telling me what you mean.”

Oh. He supposed she needed context.

“The Hero,” he started slowly. “He… feels bad about himself. Like… like the princess. But he… and Hylia… he made… she’s crying, and I…”

Mipha jumped a little. “Hylia’s crying?”

“I don’t know what to do,” Link shook his head. “Mipha, what am I supposed to do?”

“Why is she crying?” Mipha asked.

“She—he—” Link stopped himself and took a breath to reorganize his thoughts. “The Hero. He… he got upset. Really upset. Like… remember when I… when I mentioned… I mean, you kind of dragged it out of me, but…”

Mipha, bless her, remained patient, knowing how Link could struggle to express himself. He’d barely spoken to anyone these last few months, but he’d finally started opening back up to his friend, even if it was just a little. She was the only one who knew that Zelda had yelled at Link in their first weeks together, although the other Champions had clearly sensed the tension.

“He got angry at her,” Link explained slowly. “He got angry. He’s… he said he was a failure, that he wasn’t worthy of being the Hero of Legend. Mipha, it’s… he sounded just like Zelda. But he… he got angry at Hylia about it, and now she’s crying.”

“Oh, my,” Mipha said softly, hand over her mouth. “I… didn’t realize a goddess could cry. That’s… awful.”

“It is awful,” Link agreed, the words spilling out of him now as his emotions mixed with them. “Mipha, what do I do? How do you cheer up a goddess?”

His friend was quiet for a long time, ruminating the matter. “Well… I suppose the same way you cheer anyone up. She cries just like the rest of us… perhaps she just needs kindness like the rest of us too.”

Link thought about the words, remembering all the rituals they did for the goddess. But then he remembered once, when he was very little, when he’d offered flowers to the goddess statue in Hateno, to the warmth that had filled his heart and soul when he’d done so, to the smile that always pulled at his lips whenever he saw silent princesses ever since.

Silent Princess. Zelda’s favorite flower. It always put a smile on the princess’ face too.

Link’s eyes lingered on the one garden that had tried to cultivate the flower, the only one that had succeeded so far, though herbalists hardly called it a success as only one or two flowers grew from the entire batch, and one was wilting already.

Filled with relief and hope, Link dragged Mipha into a hug. “Thank you.”

His friend was stiff under his embrace, and he felt her heart fluttering against his chest. Suddenly, the embrace felt too intimate, too personal, too close, and Link felt his own cheeks blush as he quickly pulled away. Before either party could speak, he hastily made his way to the flower bed, fingers reaching for the healthier of the two specimens.

“Link, wait, isn’t that endangered—”

The silent princess yielded easily to his fingers as he pointedly ignored how the tips of his ears burned, but as he reoriented to his original excitement, he stared at the beautiful, delicate blue-and-white petals with determination.

He turned and smiled at Mipha, nodding in gratitude, before rushing back to the guard house. By the time he reached the top, Hylia’s sobs had evened out, though she was still crumped on the ground. Zelda was on the floor beside her, arm halfway across her shoulders in a hesitant but heartfelt hug. Link took a steadying breath and walked towards the pair, kneeling in front of them. When the two looked up at him, he offered the flower quietly, eyes trying to convey everything his mouth refused to speak.

Hylia stared at him a moment before her gaze lingered on the flower. She reached out slowly, carefully taking the plant from his grasp and turning it in her own calloused fingers.

Her eyes watered, but a smile pulled at her trembling lips. The heaviness of the air seemed to dissipate, and Link smiled back at her.

“It’ll be all right,” he finally said softly.

“We’re here for you,” Zelda added on, growing bolder. “Just as you are for us, Your Grace. I… I may not… I may not have my powers, but I…”

The princess sighed shakily and continued, “I will still do my duty, and I will support you just as you’re trying to do for us.”

Hylia let out another sob, brow pulling together, but the way her face glowed, the way her cheeks puffed and lips pulled conveyed it for the emotional, relieved laugh that it was.

XXX

Abel supposed it was time to break protocol.

He ignored the anxious words warding him away from his goal as he walked down the stone path towards the city. He could practically hear the drill sergeants from his youth telling him to listen to superiors at all costs, to respect those in charge, to fulfill his duty and never question those above his station.

He could hear his heart telling him to do otherwise, his mind set in stone in his path, his beloved wife encouraging him to keep walking forward.

The Hero of Myth and Legend sat on the wall dividing the castle from Castle Town. Abel leaned against the stone beside him, staring out as the sun began to descend from its zenith.

The Hero glanced at him, startled, and moved to get up, but Abel ordered immediately, “Stay put.”

Oh, how his decades of training balked at ordering such a figure around. But mostly, it felt familiar, like when he was talking to his son. Perhaps the fact that they shared a name and a destiny helped.

The Hero slowly resumed his previous posture, bolstering Abel’s confidence on the matter. Now the captain of the guard just had to figure out what to say.

He’d honestly tried not to listen to the conversations in the guard tower. It wasn’t his business – his son, the princess, the goddess, and the mythical hero were all far above him in importance. Although he would always cherish Link, he respected the role his boy had to play, and he wasn’t going to interfere or be so immature as to eavesdrop on important discussions.

It was hard not to hear it, though, when the Immortal Hero was shouting.

Words of a curse, of a demon king, of blame and failure and guilt – they’d all spilled down into Abel’s ears as easily as rain. And it was hard to get them out of his head once heard.

Abel once again found himself wondering what the benefit was in having heroes so young. He still had plenty of strength and endurance in him at the ripe age of thirty-seven, and he didn’t have the emotional issues he’d had when hew as a teenager. Experience was as good a weapon as any.

Not to mention it assisted in cutting through drama and getting to the heart of the matter.

Of course, it still didn’t prepare Abel for such a conversation. It hadn’t prepared him for any of the conversations he’d had with his son once Hyrule had noticed a Hero had arisen. The words the Hero had hissed rang in his ears once more, thoughts of demon kings hunting down his son buzzing before he pushed them away. His son had been preparing for years had the support of all of Hyrule, and Abel would double his efforts in protecting the castle. This one, on the other hand, was a soldier in an eternal war, and Abel and even Link were simply another battlefield on which he had to fight. It seemed he was only just realizing that too, which was... odd and... heartbreaking.

He really had no frame of reference for this person, young and ancient, magical and so unbelievably normal. But he could speak to what he’d seen, and… he dearly hoped it was enough. He hoped it was enough and would be taken in the right spirit. The fact that the—the boy had listened was a promising start, after all.

“I don’t understand what it could possibly be like, being created by the goddess Hylia for the sole purpose of fighting off a demon king,” Abel started honestly, bluntly. “You look as Hylian as anyone else.”

The Ancient One glanced at him, tired and hurting and confused all at once. “I… I don’t know what that is.”

He didn’t know what a Hylian was? Abel supposed he wouldn’t. He was created to fight. Yet he was just like any other teenager. It still made no sense to the captain, but… a boy was a boy. Abel motioned towards the boy’s ears, small and curved like leaves, unique and honestly a little cute. It had always been said that Hylians’ ears were the way they were to better help them hear the goddess – perhaps his were shaped so differently so only he could hear her whispers, so only he could be privileged to her song. It… honestly made Abel’s skin crawl a little. He wished the Hero didn’t look so young – the thought of a child being molded to fight and married off to the goddess… it felt…

Abel didn’t dare say the sacrilegious word, but the ill feeling in his stomach lingered nonetheless. He tried to remind himself that this strange figure was ancient and not actually a teenager, even if he seemed to act like one.

“Your ears,” he commented. “They’re as Hylian as anyone else’s.”

The Hero instinctively reached up to touch his own ears, staring at Abel with wide, genuinely curious eyes now. The traces of guilt and sorrow were fading away in wake of his bemusement, and in that moment he really, truly looked like a kid.

Abel swallowed, trying to get to his point. “You’re… different, perhaps, but you still seem pretty Hylian to me, if you’ll pardon my ignorance on the matter. And if that is the case… then it seems such pressure that you’re putting on yourself is unrealistic.”

Hylia’s Chosen stiffened, though he didn’t comment.

“Calamity Ganon is a scourge that has plagued this land for millennia,” Abel said carefully. “And each time it has come, it has taken all of Hyrule to fight it. Though the Spirit of the Hero and the power of the Goddess are required to vanquish it, they have never fought alone. It seems… unreasonable to expect any different of yourself.”

The Hero bit his lip, his hands falling to his lap as he looked down. “But I was supposed to.”

“Did you defeat him?” Abel asked.

The Hero glanced at him, and though he held guilt in his gaze, he nodded.

“So you defeated him alone, which no one has ever accomplished before or since then,” Abel pointed out. “Yet you blame yourself for his return? If you fought him before and won, this should be easy, should it not?”

“But I—”

“But what?” Abel pressed on. “You can’t change that he’s here. Only that you’re here to stop him. Are you going to fight him or not?”

The Hero stared at him for a long while, eyes growing weary. Abel recognized the look, the exhaustion of war, the scars hidden within. He faced the boy fully.

“You won’t be alone this time,” he told him firmly. “Link will fight alongside you, as well as all the Champions, the guardians, and Hyrule’s army.”

“Sounds rather like I’m not needed,” the Hero said softly, a sad smile pulling at his lips.

“I am not one to waste resources,” Abel replied perhaps a bit too curtly, but he was tired of the adolescent’s moping. This was what the ancient child had been created for, after all, was it not? “You defeated Calamity Ganon long before any army ever could be raised against him. If you fight alongside our forces, if you support Link, then it makes the likelihood of actually killing it all the higher.”

Hylia’s Chosen perked up at the idea given to him, though he still looked a bit uncertain.

“Will you fight alongside Link?” Abel prompted. “Will you help him? Or are you going to drown in your sorrows instead while the rest of Hyrule tries to fight?”

“I’m the only one who can,” the Hero muttered, eyes darkening once more, shoulders set in resignation. “That’s what he said. That’s… what they always say. It’s my destiny.”

Abel waited, unsure what to say to such a remark. The ancient one’s words held a pain and exhaustion to them, but also a bite, and the captain of the guard was suddenly reminded that he was a nobody speaking to a legend.

The Hero of Myth and Legend stared out at Hyrule, sitting up straighter. “I won’t let him destroy this place. I won’t let him hurt Link, or Zelda. Or the princess. I promise.”

“I thank you for your protection,” Abel said genuinely with a bow of his head, catching the Hero’s attention.

“But I…” the Hero continued hesitantly. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. She’s… I know I upset her.”

Abel hadn’t heard Hylia’s reply to any of the words the Hero had said, but he supposed accusing her of being wrong would be upsetting. She seemed too kind to get angry, though, and the hurt on the magical boy’s face implied it as well.

Well. This was certainly a topic he could relate to. He was rather short tempered compared to others, after all. “We’re not perfect, Hero. We will say things that hurt those we love. What matters is that we apologize for them.”

Hylia’s Chosen watched him with a look so eerily similar to Link’s own when his son had been younger—so eager for wisdom from his father, so desperate for guidance—that it almost made Abel falter. Then the boy sighed and nodded in agreement.

Abel smiled as best he could. “Now, I believe Her Grace is waiting for you, great Hero. And if I may be so bold as to say… as a married man, I advise you be quick – our wives don’t like to wait for long.”

The smile that broke out on the Hero’s face was unexpectedly soft and sweet, his eyes glittering as if he was coming back to life, and the Immortal One leapt off the wall, much to Abel’s shock. The captain reached out hastily before seeing the Hero deploy some sort of paraglider, and he sighed heavily, realizing that now he had yet another hero who was going to give him heart attacks on a regular basis.

Oh, how he wished he could hold his son in that moment. But duty called, and he had strayed from it for long enough.

XXX

Admittedly, despite how his heart warmed at the thought of being with Zelda again, Link felt guilt crushing him the closer he got back to the structure he’d run from.

He knew what he’d said was hurtful. He’d chosen his words very particularly so that they would sting. He hadn’t wanted Zelda’s reassurances because he’d known they’d be empty, and suddenly hurt and resentment that had been long forgotten and shoved into the dark recesses of his mind had snarled into the light.

Link was ashamed to even get near his beloved. But he’d be damned if he didn’t own up to it.

And he missed her. He missed her smile, he missed her warmth, he missed her embrace. He was drowning and he wanted nothing more than to hold on to her. He supposed after what he’d said earlier it was a selfish thought at this point, but… if there was one constant in his life, no matter the storm, it had always been her.

He wasn’t going to be the one to lose her again. He wasn’t going to be the one to push her away.

The walk felt like it took an eternity, even though it was only a few minutes. Link hesitantly stared at the ladder leading up to the top, and then he climbed it, steeling himself.

When he got to the top, he found only a couple guards.

Link didn’t bother to speak with them, sliding down once more, and nearly jumped out of his skin as he was met with one of the stranger looking people from the festival. Their skin was red and shimmering, eyes nearly the same shade of amber as the crystal that had held Zelda in a trance for millennia. Their fingers were delicate but held sharp claws, and a blue sash was the only clothing they wore, though their body was adorned in glimmering jewelry.

“Hello, Hero,” the person said in a soft, feminine tone.

Wait, he’d seen her before. She had been sparring with the new Hero that morning.

“Do you—do you know where Zelda is?” he asked quickly, nearly laughing at the irony of such a question given his history with it.

“The princess is with Her Grace and Sir Link,” the woman answered. “They decided to head out into Hyrule Field, I believe. They were going to pick up lunch on the way.”

Hyrule Field? “Where’s that?”

The woman pointed back to the direction where he’d just come from. “It’s just beyond Castle Town. If I were them, I would go to the Sacred Grounds. It’s a pleasant place for a picnic. It’s close to the center of Hyrule Field, you can’t miss it. Would you… like me to take you there?”

Out of a nearly gone habit, Link nearly said no, as if he would find it on his map and could dowse for Zelda beyond that. Goddess. He shook his head, and then hastily said, “Yes, please.”

The strange looking woman—girl? Woman??—smiled and asked him to walk with her. Link tried to ignore the people staring at them as they progressed, feeling the number of eyes on them grow as they entered the big town he and Zelda had explored a few nights ago.

The joy of that exploration felt so far away now. He felt so empty, so unbelievably alone. But the guard had promised he wasn’t, and he…

He just wanted to go home. But it was just like his original journey, wasn’t it? He hadn’t wanted the weight of the world on his shoulders then. He’d just wanted to find Zelda. Headmaster Gaepora had said that the destiny of the world was his to bear, and his alone. No one could know.

Just as now, it was his destiny to fight Demise once more. But… the guard had said it himself.

Link wasn’t alone. Even if he deserved to be, after somehow managing to mess this up.

He would be alone if he continued to push everyone away, though, and he knew it. He remembered just after the world had nearly ended, remembered how isolated he was, and how Zelda had been the only one who could reach him in those dark moments.

Link hardly noticed that they’d reached the fields, hardly noticed that the woman he was with kept glancing at him to make sure he was okay. She seemed to understand he didn’t want to talk and was somehow blessedly fine with it, making the occasional remark about the weather or anything else to ensure it didn’t get too awkwardly quiet.

The awkwardness did linger, though, when Link realized he didn’t know her name. When she stopped and pointed straight ahead, he said, “Thank you… I… didn’t get your name.”

The woman’s eyes widened, suddenly embarrassed. “O-oh! I’m—I’m so very sorry, I—my name is Mipha, Princess of the Zora. I beg your pardon for my lack of manners!”

Another princess? Link stared at her, curious, but then smiled. “Thank you, Mipha.”

The woman’s shame faded, and she nodded, heading back towards Castle Town. Link took a fortifying breath and walked towards the Sacred Grounds. The trees hid some of the area and his approach, allowing him to see the new Hero sitting on the ground alongside Zellie and his wife. His successor was eating away cheerily, garnering a chuckle from Zellie, and Zelda… picked at her food quietly. She smiled when acknowledged, but didn’t seem to have much of an appetite.

Link wanted to kick himself. He also kind of wished the other two weren’t there.

Miraculously, Zelda alone seemed to notice his approach. She paused from holding her food, watching him with a little trepidation. Her eyebrows wrinkled together, and the hurt and worry on her face made Link want to melt into the earth. Zellie seemed to notice something was up, but before she could speak, Zelda rose and walked slowly in his direction.

She paused just out of his reach, and the pair watched each other quietly. A wind stirred between them, trying to push Link away, and he nearly gave in to it, shaking like a leaf.

“Link…?” Zelda called quietly, almost timidly.

Link wasn’t sure if it was the stress of everything catching up to him again, or if it was the way his own wife was scared to approach him as if he were shatter or explode on her… all he knew was that he was crying.

“I’m sorry,” he immediately said, shaking his head, taking a frightened step away. “I’m sorry, Zelda, I’m sorry I’m sorry—”

Zelda’s eyes widened, and she immediately covered the ground between them, nearly tackling him in a hug, carrying him with strong but trembling arms, easing him down to the earth as the world spun around him. He couldn’t get anything else out aside from apologies that stumbled over each other, words only stopping when he hiccupped or gasped for air, his tears endlessly staining her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she soothed, tightening her hug.

“No it’s not!” Link sobbed. “None of it is, I’m so sorry, I’m—”

Again and again the apologies came forth until he’d exhausted himself, until he found himself clinging to her with as much desperation as he had when she’d awoken from her trance months ago.

He heard Zelda take a shaky breath, her exhale tickling his ear. “I am too.”

The words were raw, the sentiment so genuine it ached. Link didn’t have the emotional energy to reply, couldn’t defend her after trying so many times to reassure her and then eating his own words due to his outburst. He had nothing left to offer except himself, broken and worthless and idiotic as he was, and he just held her all the more.

The sun shone brightly on the pair as the other two slowly rose and watched in silence.

[obsessivelollipoplalala]

Hi, I wanted to ask you what you thought about the latest allegations against Neil Gaiman. I’m pretty disgusted with him if they’re true tbh and gutted for the women involved , but I’m also emotionally invested in Good Omens and really want s3. Does this make me a bad person? Will the cast even still want to be involved if there is a season three? Do we want them to want to be involved? What would you think if David or Michael defended Gaiman?

Sorry about all the questions, you don’t have to answer I was just venting I guess.

Funny, I actually answered an ask earlier this month also concerned about being a bad person for still liking Good Omens.

I definitely think they're true and that he's a major asshole who's dangerous to women. I think the fandom has an obligation to cut him off from the work as much as possible (so not tag his name in any posts about the show, for example), not support him as a person or financially, not invite him to any conventions, and to spread the word, especially to young women who might not know, want to meet him at a convention or something like that, and could potentially be victimized. I heard of some people thinking of organizing like a fandom fundraiser to RAINN, which is a good idea.

No, wanting a show you really like to have its final season does not make you a bad person, and keep in mind that the season was greenlit and the scripts were finished months ago, before the accusations came out. The wheels were already put in motion before anyone knew about any of this, and to my knowledge, it's not like the victims are calling for the show to be cancelled, either. It'd be different if you were angry at these women for coming forward because you care about the show more than real world violence, but that's not the case here.

As for the cast...I mean, I don't intend to sound cynical, but do you know how few movies and TV shows would get produced if actors stopped working for things written or produced by bad people? I would genuinely be surprised if one or both of the leads said they were quitting the project out of some kind of moral dilemma; also remember that there are a lot of people in the production crew on shows like these, who would lose out on this job the minute the lead actors stepped back, and I think people who work in the entertainment industry take them into account, as well, at least sometimes. For Sheen and Tennant as people, I'm not invested in them at all tbh, never really have been, but it would be wrong on a moral level for them to defend Gaiman. They could release a statement saying they condemn his actions, support the victims, and "we're going to finish this project because Good Omens now belongs to all of us, and all of the fans" or something like that. Who knows? I guess they'll say something at some point.

It sucks, no one wants to hear that someone who created something they love is a piece of shit, but bad people create good art sometimes, and given that the quality of the art is often independent of the morality of its creator, it makes sense for you to still enjoy that art.