#i'm not a bird on a fence so easily forced to fly away until there is no where left to fly to

[l-la]

Ultimately I am interested in the stories and art people create. I want to see what people's minds come up with. I want to think about how they chose to design their characters, the lines and colours they play with. I want to know people are creating. Being. There's something so human about it.

I joke often I can't imagine not thinking about my characters and stories always in the back of my head, and I can't. I can't imagine what it is not to make or think about a sentence. Think about how I want to scribble out my next illustration.

I fear generative AI making for a populace that is easier to manipulate. Easier to convince of badly cloaked lies because they don't know how to read with any level of consideration for that.

But I also will not abandon the places and people that make up stories and art. They can make their poor mimicries, even bad ones. I hope artists and writers can protect themselves to the best of their own abilities. But I am not going anywhere. I want to be here, where people are making and telling and creating. In spite of everything.

[syilcawrites]

A prompt (dunno if I should've messaged or sent a note, but eh, I'm used to asks):

Following the defeat™ of Ganon à la Link and Zelda, our favourite pair have settled in Kakariko Village for a bit as a temporary reprieve.

Then disaster strikes.

It starts with spaced-out sniffles. Then as hushed whispers come on the light snorts of a nostril attempting to impede the flow of an oncoming river of muscus. Rising to a crescendo, a throat reddens and sputters in an attempt to relieve an unending roughness that hinders speech and catches on food.

Link has the common cold.

Never has the hero felt so demeaned, so disrespected by the gods. His bones and blood and mind were forfeit the moment he drew the Sword as a child, of that he came to know and accept. But to now be impeded by snot and sebum - no affront could be greater.

So, stubborn as he is, he attempts to go on about his day, training, cooking, collecting - but, of course, fails spectacularly, his condition worsening. Looking from afar, Zelda finds that she's had enough and tends to the matter directly.

Ensue whatever great stuff you wanna write about.

TL;DR: Link gets mildly ill, worsens it by overexerting himself and Zelda has to force him to rest; magic ensues.

Sorry if that was way too detailed or exact for a prompt... I just have so many ideas of my own that I want to write but I just don't have the time right now. Sho, I'm keeping to plans aplently. ☺️

a/n: i loved this prompt and how detailed it was thank u for sending me this it was so fun to write sfauihhaifs sobs... I hope to see your writing someday!!! And hope you enjoy this lil fic (’:

ao3

to chase away a cold

It's been a little over two months since Calamity Ganon had been defeated. Paya had been kind enough to let them stay in her room for the time being, while Zelda recuperated from… well, everything. And it had been quiet around Hyrule since—the significantly decreasing amount of monster attacks had been a blessing for their short trips; they had run into little to no problems, fortunately, ever since they reunited.

But then, it started with a sound that Zelda could only affiliate with to a mouse squeak.

Her wide eyes flit to the ground, where Link was sitting atop of a futon that Paya had laid out for him. He didn't look at her as he continued shining away at his weapons, his back still facing her, pressed against the mattress of the bed Zelda was on.

She shrugged it off, resuming to mess around with the Sheikah Slate in her hands. Perhaps she was just hearing things… it wouldn't be surprising, since she hadn't officially settled into being back in her own body yet—

Zelda's ears perked up as the peculiar squeak happened again. But this time, the bed shook a little. She quickly lowered the Sheikah Slate from her view once more, her eyes narrowing.

"Link, was that you?" she asked, poking his back with her big toe.

He shook his head and shrugged.

Suspicious.

——————————————————————

The next morning, Zelda awoke at noon.

Which was, of course, normal for her. She was never an early-riser to begin with, even before the Calamity.

But Link? He was always up the moment the sun rose. She was a light sleeper, and always heard him get up, despite his best efforts to be quiet. And he never missed a day to leave a couple of fresh wildflowers in the vase next to the bed for her before she would get up to start the day.

But today, the wildflowers at the bedside had been the ones from yesterday—beginning to grow flaky and brown.

And Link was still sprawled on the futon next to the bed, obliviously sleeping away.

"Link," Zelda whispered, leaning over the bed. But he didn't budge. Weird. "Link!" Zelda leaned over a bit further to shake his shoulder. "Get up!"

"Hah?" He flinched, startling himself awake. He sniffled as he looked over at her with glazed, sleepy eyes.

"It's past noon. I thought you were going to help Cado—"

"Noon?" he gasped, scrambling up from the futon. "I told him I'd come by at eight," Link mumbled, fumbling for his tunic and trousers. "We might have to go to the Great Fairy Fountain tomorrow instead, I promised I'd help him find his cuccos today." His voice sounded a bit heavier than she remembered.

She waved her hand at him, shrugging as she stifled a yawn. "It's okay, go help him. I'm sure he's waiting." Zelda quirked an eyebrow up as he sniffled again—he was doing that a lot more recently. "If you need a hand, I can help."

"No, you're still recov—" Suddenly, Link's face contorted up in a way that she had never seen before—he whipped around and sneezed into the crook of his elbow.

"Did you catch something?" Zelda asked, shifting off of the bed to place a hand on his forehead. But with each step she took closer to him, he took one away from her as he shook his head fervently.

"I'm fine," he insisted, pulling his cloak over his shoulders, still facing away from her.

Suspicious.

——————————————————————

Zelda sat outside on the steps of Impa's home, eating pickled plum with her as the both of them watched Link run around Kakariko, trying to find Cado's precious, missing cucco's.

"It is beyond my understanding as to why Link even tries," Impa scoffed, handing Zelda the plumpest pickled plum of the batch. She still didn't have much of an appetite, but Impa had been as observant as she always was, and usually only offered Zelda bite-sized foods that she knew she wouldn't have trouble eating. "Cado loses his cuccos as least twice a month."

"Maybe we should build him a bigger fence," Zelda murmured, giggling as she watched Link wrestle with a cucco he was trying to drag over to Cado's little coop. "They wouldn't be able to fly as easily."

"Those little buggers will always find a way," Impa scoffed, shaking her head. "And—"

A loud sneeze caused the both of them to flinch—Link's well-fought battle against the cucco ultimately failed, and Zelda watched the aftermath of it with pity. He stared in defeat as it scampered away, back into the bushes.

"Link's been a little weird, hasn't he? He hadn't even stirred by the time I was awake," Zelda inquired, plopping another pickled plum into her mouth, chewing slowly. His jog was a little slower than usual, and he had to pause every five minutes to catch his breath—that never happened before.

"He's been staying up a little later than usual, hasn't he?"

Zelda nodded—he wanted to take her to several locations that were a bit further than their usual trips, so they had been mapping out the most efficient way to go about their mini excursion. While Link was an early bird, Zelda was more of a night owl… it did make sense that he would be a little off recently, with a shift in his sleeping schedule.

After he spoke to Cado, probably to apologize for not getting them all today, Link stumbled—he stumbled—a bit on his feet as he made his way to the cookpot, since dinner was just around the corner.

Suspicious.

——————————————————————

By the time Link went into the room to retire for the day, Zelda had already situated herself on the futon. She was lying on her stomach, humming, as she plotted out the last of their destinations for the upcoming trip. She craned her head to the door when she heard it creak open; he looked even worse than earlier.

"How was your bath?" Zelda asked, sitting up.

"Good…" he said, sniffling, a little confused. He pointed at her, quirking an eyebrow up.

"You're sleeping in the bed tonight—and!" Zelda pointed at the cup of tea sitting on the desk next to the bed. "You should drink this up before you go to sleep. The trip can wait until you get better."

"What do you mean? I'm fine," he muttered, rubbing his nose.

"Link, having a cold is a perfectly normal thing to catch—and you just made it worse by trying to hide it. Which you were terrible at doing, by the way." Zelda grabbed the cup and held it out to him, waiting. "Plus, I added some extra ingredients that I think could possibly increase the potency of the medicine—"

"I'm not sick," he said, shaking his head with noticeable effort. "I don't need it, I'm fine. I—I feel better than I've ever had before, actually." He sneezed—and the cough that accompanied it sounded just as painful.

"But I made this specifically for you," Zelda muttered, lowering the cup a bit. Before she could continue to convince him to drink it, he had already grabbed it out of her hand and taken a large gulp out of it.

"You didn't put something weird in this, right?" Link asked, sniffing it. At least he tried to sniff it, but his nose was closed up. She laughed at his scrunched up face as he continued to try to smell it.

"It's a secret," she said, patting the top of the bed. "It's been a long day, you should rest."

He took one more long gulp before handing the cup to her with a satisfied sigh, his smile a little woozy. Zelda quickly grabbed it from him and stared into it—he had drank the whole thing in two gulps. He was supposed to drink it slowly.

He flopped over on top of the bed, burying his head into the pillow.

"This bed is really comfortable," he said, his voice muffled as he rubbed his face into it.

"Hey, you're going to get snot all over my pillow if you do that!" Zelda scoffed, tugging at his sleeve as she twisted around.

"It smells like you," he murmured, looking at her with half-lidded eyes as he strained to keep them open.

"Oh? And how do you know what it smells like if your nose is clogged?" She brought her arms over the bed and folded them together to rest her cheek against them. She had never witnessed him getting sick, even before the Calamity. And to see him acting a little aloof brought warmth into her chest—even though he hadn't recovered every memory, he still treated her with familiarity, which she appreciated. She was afraid of being thrown into a world so familiar, yet different.

But he stayed, even though he didn't have to.

"Hmmm... I can just feel it," Link muttered as he closed his eyes, pressing deeper into her pillow.

"You can feel what my pillow smells like?" Zelda snorted, trying to hold in her laughter. Instead of responding to her, he began snoring.

Zelda would have to remember that including a few sprinkles of nightshade acted as an excellent way for someone to fall asleep quickly.