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skyward-floored · 5 days

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Lost (as in the nickname for my one Link) content, here we gooooo (even though he's not physically here). Vaati is a placeholder name since [evil purple guy] was getting really old.

...

The low chatter of her council members barely reached Zelda’s ears, the only thing stopping her from standing up and bolting out of the room being Impa’s steady presence at her side. She knew they needed to have this meeting, but the thought of discussing what to do about the... threat, threatened to make her ill.

“Silence please,” Impa said, giving her cane a rap on the floor. “We have business to attend to. I’m sure you all know why we’re here.”

Zelda took a slow breath in, steeling herself for the words about to come out of Impa’s mouth.

“The Hero has been corrupted.”

The room went into an uproar but Zelda barely heard it, biting her lip so hard it nearly drew blood. Link, her best knight, her best friend, and really only friend aside from Impa, had been twisted into little more than a puppet for the forces of darkness to use as they pleased.

She felt distantly like she was going to throw up.

“—doesn’t even have the blade! Are we certain the boy is the Hero?” one of her councilors boomed, “for all we know Vaati merely created a lookalike of our best knight to frighten us! Are we even certain the boy is still ali—“

“That’s quite enough,” Impa said sternly, then placed a gentle hand on Zelda’s shoulder. “We have firsthand reports of what happened, Sir Link is who has been corrupted.”

“But how do we even know if he is the Hero?” one of the women shouted, and Impa sighed.

“He would not have been corrupted if he were not,” she said gravely. “Sir Rowan’s account stated that Link was the only one who was explicitly targeted. Somehow Vaati knew of Link’s potential to pull the blade, and exploited it. We cannot count on the Hero to save us now.”

The room went suddenly quiet, the emotion of the room turned abruptly from uproar to fear. The council’s gazes turned to their princess, looking for direction on what to do, and Zelda didn’t know what to tell them.

Impa gave Zelda’s shoulder a comforting squeeze, and the princess swallowed down her emotions in order to speak.

“We will need to enact a plan to deal with this threat,” she said steadily, slowly breathing out. “We will strengthen our defenses, and alert our allies to the possible danger. There have been reports of increased monster activity, doubtless Vaati’s doing, so we will deal with them accordingly.”

“And what of the Hero?” one of her councilmen asked.

Zelda swallowed.

“We will send out a description of him, and a warning about what has happened,” she said calmly. “But if... if he’s found, we must aim for capture, not... nothing else, as of now. We don’t know exactly what the enemy has done to him, but perhaps... perhaps we can still save him.”

Her voice wavered minutely on the last sentence, and Impa shortly dismissed the meeting, ushering Zelda back to her rooms. The walk there was a blur, and soon enough she found herself standing by her desk, staring blankly out the window.

The bright rays of sunset shining on her face seemed unfair.

“Your highness?” Impa asked after a minute, and Zelda closed her eyes.

“It was my idea to send the knights to the woods,” she whispered. Impa didn't reply, and Zelda wrapped her arms around herself. “I thought my dream was pointing us there. That by acting first it would protect against the darkness. But all it did was lose us our best knights, take away our strongest rsources. And...”

Zelda’s voice cracked, and a tear fell down her cheek without her permission.

“We’ve lost Link,” she choked out. “I sent him there Impa, he trusted me, and I sent him to his destruction, he’s... I don’t even know if there’s a way to get him back.”

“Your highness, you cannot blame yourself,” Impa said in a voice equally gentle and firm. “This was out of your control.“

“But it if I hadn’t sent him he would still be here,” Zelda said, another tear falling down her cheek. “What if he can’t be saved, Impa? What kind of ruler am I to doom my kingdom to darkness, and send my best friend to his death?"

The last word was punctuated by a sob, and Impa was silent a moment, tapping a quiet finger along her cane.

“Zelda,” she said finally, and the princess sniffled, looking at her through her tears. “I believe there is a way we may yet be able to stop this darkness. As well as save Link.”

Hope faintly flickered in Zelda’s heart. “Truly?”

“Indeed. If I'm recalling the old legends correctly... well. We shall see,” she said thoughtfully, then turned to Zelda with a gentle look. “Come Princess, dry your tears. Link may yet be saved. But you must see clearly to do so.”

Zelda wiped her eyes, and Impa drew her into a short embrace, silence falling between them as Zelda calmed herself. Impa was right, she needed to calm down and think clearly.

Link needed her, and she couldn't help him if she was busy crying over him.

Zelda sighed, and Impa patted her cheek as she drew back. “Now. I need to gather some things so we can properly decide our course," she said, and gave Zelda a sad smile. "...Try and get some rest in the meantime, princess. It's been a long day for us all."

Zelda nodded, and Impa gave her a long look before finally stepping back, and leaving her quarters.

Zelda breathed out as the door closed behind her, and she looked around her room, before stepping out onto her balcony. A cool breeze greeted her, sending strands of blonde hair into her face, and Zelda looked up at the sky, her chest tightening as she remembered how Link had knelt here only days before, promising her he'd be careful.

The wind blew again, and Zelda's damp cheeks felt cold.

Link... stay strong, she quietly prayed, watching as the last of the sunlight disappeared from the sky. Hold on for me.

Hold on for us all.

#I have lots of thoughts about this story but...#this is about as coherent as it gets XD but feel free to poke me if you've got questions #legend of zelda #legend of zelda au #Lost #writing from the floor #Zelda: and now we will tuck away all of these devastating feelings away and think about them no more :)))#Impa: ...your highness that is not what I meant #don't worry though she gets a real good cry #...later. much later

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flowercrowngods · 1 year

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in which eddie is semi-nonverbal and steve notices despite eddie’s best efforts. cuddles ensue | 1.8k

They’re hanging out at Eddie’s, just the two of them, when Steve notices it for the first time. He’s not known as the most perceptive guy ever, but he’s actually rather good at these things. And he’s starting to get good at getting a feel for Eddie, too, even though it’s made harder by his dramatics and his flourishes and all those exaggerated gestures, mimics and mood swings. Eddie is fluent in all things sarcasm and drama, both of which Steve had issues reading in the beginning but is now pretty good with.

After fighting an interdimensional monster wizard creep, nearly dying a few times and spending time together almost every day because we stick together now, Steve knows Eddie.

He’s not sure if they’re friends, exactly, but that doesn’t really stop him from knowing all of his tones, his moods, and even most of his music these days. Steve just watches. Listens. Remembers. He’s shit at talking about himself much around anyone but Robin, but he always makes a point of knowing as much as he can about his friends. And Eddie.

Which is why the sudden strain in Eddie’s voice catches him off guard. It’s not the I didn’t get any sleep last night because all I can think of is how I almost died kinda strain. Nor is it the It’s 5pm and I haven’t eaten yet and I don’t want you to find out kind. Steve still makes sure to make them sandwiches as he listens to Eddie rambling off about something or other.

And that’s the thing. Steve listens. He always does, but Eddie is rambling. And he sounds almost miserable about it. The words don’t make sense, they lack their usual enthusiasm when Eddie talks DnD or music — which, he’s doing both? There’s no connection. And when Steve turns around, sandwiches secondary to that fucking strain in Eddie’s voice, he sees that his eyes are dull. The smile forced. And he keeps talking even though his tone indicates that he’s done.

Steve frowns slightly and watches Eddie, who’s walking mindlessly, aimlessly, pacing and stopping every few seconds, looking a little lost every time he does.

The thing is, there is no reason for Eddie to talk. No point to his words. No calculation in his movement, no burning off of excess energy, no kick in his step, no stomp for emphasis.

Steve notices. He sees. He listens. And thinking back, Eddie’s reaction time to just about anything Steve said today was either close to nothing, or very delayed.

It dawns on him then, as he looks Eddie up and down, noticing the fidgeting hands, the tense shoulders, the stiff grimace of a smile. It dawns on him because he knows this look, this behaviour. Not exactly like this, but close.

He has a hunch and hopes that whatever they have built over the past weeks is strong enough for Eddie not to freak out on him over this.

“Eddie,” Steve interrupts him, and it shouldn’t be this easy. It wouldn’t be, normally, but today Eddie just shuts up immediately, mouth closed, eyes on Steve.

“Yeah?” Four seconds. That’s how long that word took.

Steve hopes the expression on his face is kind, not patronising. “You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

Eddie blinks. Swallows. Two, three, four. “Do what, Steve?” And immediately he is defensive, taking on an act because maybe that’s makes this easier for him, but even his performance is strained.

“You don’t have to talk all the time,” he says, and only realises once the words have left his mouth that they sound wrong, like he’s annoyed with Eddie’s constant babbling and needs some silence. Which he doesn’t.

Eddie scoffs before he can take it back. He scoffs, spins in a circle and sighs deeply, expertly bridging the four seconds it takes him once again to open his mouth and speak.

“Oh, that’s new! That’s new, Harrington, I’ve never heard that one before. What’s next, you gonna call me a Freak? Maybe tell me the bands I listen to aren’t music? Really sorry, man, and I hate to break it to you, but if you wanna hang out with someone who doesn’t ‘have to talk all the time’, I’m not your man!”

Even the anger seems dull, the little speech far from what it could have been, like Eddie’s brain isn’t quite there, like it doesn’t work today, like the words just won’t come and decide to leave him hanging with his failed dramatics.

Still, Steve approaches him slowly, his hands raised in a placating motion. “That’s not what I meant, and I’m sorry it came out wrong, Eds. I don’t mind your talking, you gotta believe me. But…”

How does he say this next part, this next assumption, without accidentally insulting Eddie again? Without sounding like a complete and total jackass?

“You know El, right? The one with the superpowers?”

Eddie nods.

“Well, when she came to us, she could, like, barely talk. Her vocabulary wasn’t there yet, sure, but that’s not the only reason. And now she’s made wonderful progress and her vocabulary is pretty decent, but still she gets those days where she just… She can’t talk. Or won’t. Maybe both. Sometimes both, yeah. And on some days she will, like, force herself. But I can tell when she does because she’s miserable about it and it sounds like hard labour and she’s always on the verge of tears about it. And… I don’t know, Eds, but you kinda look a lot like her now, and even if you don’t, which is fine, sorry for bringing that up, but even if you don’t have days like that, just know that you don’t always have to talk, yeah? One way or another, there’s not a price you have to pay in stories or running commentary just to be part of the group. You could never talk ever again and we’d still stick together, yeah? That’s what I meant. Sorry if that’s a jackass kinda thing to say.”

Steve hates how he’s always out there fumbling for words and can never get them to sound right. Especially now, when he needs Eddie to understand. He always needs Eddie to understand. It’s a bit of an urge lately. He just wants him to feel safe.

It’s more than four seconds now, and Steve stops counting at ten, acutely aware of the silence this time. He lets Eddie have his silence, though, leaves him room inside it.

“That’s not a jackass kinda thing to say, Steve Harrington,” Eddie says, and Steve swears he has never heard his voice in such a quiet, vulnerable tone. The quiet always helps El, too. Make all those words she can’t say a little less loud and imposing, make it all a little more okay. Not so scary.

“Good,” Steve whispers, and maybe that’s one step too far, but Eddie sags a little bit and for a moment Steve fears that he’s about to sway forward. Not that he wouldn’t catch Eddie.

“What do… How. Do you help El through it?” Small, vulnerable, confused, and Steve heart breaks a little for him.

“I do,” he says, equally quiet, smile on his face. “We always lie down somewhere because you only have to talk when you sit or stand, right? Lying down, no one can make you talk. So we lie down, she’s usually resting on top of me, and either I talk to her about, well… Anything, really. Or I shut up. Sometimes there’s music. Really, there’s many ways to get through it, but the main two things are lying down and not talking on her part, y’know?”

And the way Eddie looks at him makes Steve think that maybe they are friends, because you don’t let just anyone see you this vulnerable. You don’t look at just anyone with your big brown doe eyes like they’re opening a whole new world for you.

“Sounds great,” he croaks and that tension is back in his shoulders, so obvious that Steve wants to reach out and massage it away.

He smiles and searches Eddie’s eyes, absolutely sure of the situation now, and maybe having a cure for it. “Eddie Munson, would you like to go lie down and not talk for a while?”

Eddie stares at him as though he’s calculating the risk, as though he’s weighing his options. He could still tell Steve to go and he’d be out of here in a heartbeat if being alone is what Eddie really needs. But then he nods.

“I think maybe I do, yeah.”

“With El, I only ask her yes or no questions. You can just nod or shake your head. Okay? Don’t know if that works for you but, well, we can find out I guess. Yeah?”

Eddie nods, and Steve smiles. He goes to the kitchen area to grab the sandwiches he made earlier and then lands back right before Eddie, smile still in place.

“Not to be weird or anything, but I think this might work best on your bed. Is that okay for you? If that’s not okay, we can just lie down on the couch.”

Eddie looks back to his room, then back at Steve. He nods.

“Your bed?” Steve asks again just to make sure, and Eddie nods again.

And this is how they find themselves lying on Eddie’s bed, Eddie’s head resting on Steve’s chest. His fingers find their way into the metalhead’s locks at some point and Eddie purrs, which makes Steve laugh for a moment. He doesn’t take his hand away, though.

Steve doesn’t talk like he does with El sometimes. With Eddie, he just basks in the silence and lets the other boy soak up as much of it as he needs. There’s a smile on his lips the whole time, and he didn’t think he could smile so much around Eddie Munson, especially on one of his bad days.

But he does.

They even fall asleep like that, Eddie lying on top of Steve, cuddling into him. Steve lets him. Even the next morning when they’re both awake but not willing to break the silence yet even though Eddie looks much better already, he doesn’t make any moves to get away from Steve. He stays there, head on his chest as they both just bask in the moment.

Bask in the company.

Bask on the threshold of something just to the right of friendship. Something more.

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #i have to stop writing shit late at night it’s almost 4am send help #all those writers who write wonderfully short stories that give me all the emotions without useless words?? rip to you but i’m different 😔#(that’s me saying i wish i could be brief but what was meant to be a drabble is now 1.8k words and ugh. why am i like this)#dio words #this fic contains a lot of words for a nonverbal fic I’m such a fake fan huh #is the entire beginning of this just me projecting and could i easily cut it and have the fic be better? yes. but i don’t write to be good #i write to be a little less insane. we’re not winning yet girlies #i should read this before posting but frankly it’s almost 4am i am barely awake

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m1ckeyb3rry · 5 months

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wattpad is so crazy because users will leave comments expressing nothing but pure disdain and anger for whatever reason (y/n’s characterization, the decision to include original characters, temporary ships and subplots, etc)…like at a certain point i start to wonder if they realize that no one is forcing them to read anything 😭

#this is mostly about endure actually #that story got way too popular considering how inexperienced i was when i wrote it #it haunts me #but also it was never meant to be read by anyone but my best friend so a lot of things are just random or silly in it for no reason #‘they had makeup remover back then??’#idk but mikasa s1-2 was swinging around in that nyx butter gloss shade 05 crème brulee so shit they sure must’ve!!#also sorry y/n at the ripe age of nine wasn’t down to commit murder w the besties 💔#and that she had a crush on reiner…CRIME PUNISHABLE BY DEATH.#(literally)#there’s several wonderful people on wattpad and i’ve met some of my fav mutuals on there #but the user base overall is the reason i stopped posting on it #anyways sorry for the rant but long story short #i am by no means a perfect author but like. i’m going to write what i write and you can either choose to read it or click away #but there is no need for you put either of us through the strain that comes from leaving comments complaining abt what i choose to write :)#m’s thoughts

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fefairys · 6 months

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funniest part of posting all these homestuck book annotation quotes is people being so surprised that hussie like… understands their own story. lmao

#people being in disbelief that they actually said some of the stuff i’m quoting #there is such an attitude that hussie is just some stupid rube who made a good story completely by accident #when no. that shit was on purpose actually #crazy i know #there are definitely some things about it that we’re happy accidents and they sometimes acknowledge these in the notes as well #anyway it is just kind of sad to me #how little faith ppl have in hussie actually knowing what they were doing when they wrote all that?#like idk hussie has their flaws. their many many flaws. but they know how to write an interesting story and they do it on purpose #my biggest gripe with hussie is the way they view readers as their adversaries in a way #readers are meant to be toyed with #they like making readers mad on purpose it’s like a game to them #i just find that annoying #but at the same time i kind of understand?#i know that stuff in our webcomic is gonna make people mad and tbh i’m a little excited to see it #but i didn’t write it for the PURPOSE of making people mad which is what hussie did a lot with homestuck

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polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup · 4 months

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🌟

I reblogged this ask game and then failed to finish the answers to any of the asks i got. whoopsie. better late than never.

Anyway let's try the director's commentary of the train king scene from pez dispenser debris.

I love the train king intro. it's so fun and goofy. it's just got some really fun humor to it in my mind. I had so much fun writing it.

it is a completely pointless scene.

It has no plot relevance. Train king is not the chekov's gun hanging bravely on the wall of that fic. It will have no overarching effect on the plot. So why the fuck is it there?

Well, because it was fun.

Pez dispenser debris has lived in my head for at least two or three years now. Not in the exact form it is now, but it's a very old and much-adored story of mine. I was incredibly fond of it. I tried to write it years ago, and got as far as the first scene, which was originally Izuku and Mirio walking along the street and running into the bus hijacking, which led to the rogue quirk.

It was a good starting point. It's where the action actually started. But it just didn't feel right to me.

So it sat in my drafts for a long time, collected dust, and I spun my wheels on other projects for a while. I went back to it, and tried again, and the new first scene was Izuku rushing in late for the meeting with the realtor. It still didn't feel right. it gave more development to Izuku and Mirio's relationship before we hit action, but something just wasn't right.

Train King was just a silly reason i made up for why he was late. The scene originally wasn't shown, only mentioned in a single sentence. And then I decided--fuck it, it would make for a fun scene. just do it for shits and giggles.

And I had fun writing it. Which means it's probably the only reason why i hit publish on pez dispenser debris to begin with instead of leaving it in my drafts. Because I was in a state of extreme burn out when i started writing that fic, and the train king scene led me to realize what that fic needed to be for me: just something fun and silly to write.

Technically speaking, pez dispenser debris is very sloppy. There's a huge amount of pointless asides and flashbacks that don't contribute to the plot in any way. the entirety of chapter four could be deleted and it would be the exact same fic if i just slightly edited the conversation between aizawa and izuku in chapter six. I legitmately wrote chapter four, said "wow, that was pointless," and hit publish

because I liked it anyway. Like, what the fuck is the point of the backflip treaty? Dabi's extremely reluctant semi-redemption? Absolutely nothing. I just had a good time writing it and thought other people would have a good time reading it.

it wasn't meant to be """"good"""" art. it was meant to be fun, and that's what it was. I had so much fun writing my silly little flashbacks and asides. All of my fics have those kinds of background stories and scenes that exist in their "universe," and most of them never make it into the fics because it wouldn't be plot relevant and it wouldn't make for """"good""" art. With pez dispenser debris, I wanted to just give myself permission to write something fun and silly with as many pointless scenes as i wanted. And train king started that.

#pez dispenser debris #this isn't abandoned by the way i just have majors writers block on my everything right now #we are beating chapters with sticks #god pez dispenser debris is so fun #it was never meant to be the sort of story that i'd consider “”good“” writing #i did a lot of things in it that I'd never do in one of my original works for example #because i just wanted to make silly art for a while #and it was just so so fun #i think writing advice for the most part is bullshit but if you take any from me it would be to give yourself permission to make bad art #if i was trying i could probably cut 40k words off that fic and have the exact same plot but it wouldn't be nearly as fun

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quaranmine · 2 months

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Things that Could've Happened in Firewatch AU but Didn't

Hi, and welcome to scrapped plot points. This fic had a general direction from the beginning but a lot of details came together as I went.

🔥First of all, I've posted the discord message before, but I actually originally envisioned it as "ambigious" whether Mumbo was dead or alive. This was scrapped the moment I tried to determine HOW one makes that ambiguous. think about it for a moment.

🔥I've also stated this before but I initially wanted this to just be a string of vignettes throughout the summer with no real plot or resolution to it. This is where I got a lot of early ideas for Grian and Scar hangout/character relationship development back in Dec 2022 (Scar and Top Gun, Scar's job as a door to door salesman, etc) (the salesman idea was actually from one of my tumblr asks, thanks!)

🔥Originally I....had more of a human conflict present? I actually struggle to remember some of what I planned because it got scrapped so quickly once I thought it through more. But you can still see references to it in my notes:

(last one is from first draft of chapter 11, one year prior to the final draft.) There's??? so much conflict implied here. Grian gets CHASED! people BROKE into his tower! someone STOLE THE BIKE! drama!!

I scrapped it because it was too unbelievable. Specifically, it was unbelievable for this plot line. I still had the same "truth" to the plot present—that there was no conspiracy and Mumbo had just died after being injured in a place outside the initial search zone. All this other behavior would have just been red herrings from people who had nothing to do with Mumbo's disappearance.

A lot of this also very reminiscent of the actual Firewatch game type of intrigue. I was always heading to a similarly anti-climatic ending (aka no overarching conspiracy) as the original game. But this did not fit. Because...why would someone else do this? They wouldn't have the same motivations as Ned Goodwin in Firewatch. It'd just be some pissed off teens/the firework couple who decided to mess with Grian to throw him off. Except they wouldn't know they were throwing him off anything, because they wouldn't know him, so it'd just be purely some third party messing with him. But I felt like real life is rarely this....malicious. I've had people go out of their way to harass me with road rage, sure. But all of this drama was scrapped because I felt it was SOOOOO unlikely for a random person to just be harassing Grian like this Just Because. It did not fit! It was so coincidental and requried people to make questionable decisions that I couldn't fit into any good framework of motive.

It was a bad idea and I'm glad I abandoned it. It might have been a good idea in a different context...but it did not fit at all here.

🔥I briefly toyed with something like what happened with Cian McLaughlin happening in this fic. Cian McLaughlin is an Irish man who went missing in Grand Teton National Park (nearly adjacent to this story's setting) in 2021. He was never found, unfortuantely. His case is notable because a woman provided a false eye witness report of seeing in a completely false location. On purpose, to be clear. She purposefully lied to the National Park Service about seeing him somewhere she didn't, while providing enough personal detail they thought it was a real report. She claimed to have done this to ensure that multiple locations were searched for him, to expand the search area, but she really just derailed over 500 hours of search time to the wrong place. It's so sad.

I was like, this is an intriguing case. What if this happened with Mumbo? What if this is why he was in a different location than the search was? Because someone falsely reported him being where he wasn't? But I faltered on it for many reasons. First of all, I felt it was kind of disrespectiful to Cian Mclaughlin and his family to blatantly draw off details of his real life disappearance in such an obvious way. It's a recent one too. This is not a cool mystery detail, this is real life and a real person and a real grieving family. Secondly, it goes back to the problem with the other issue about people interfering the case: why? You could ask why this woman interfered with Cian's case too, and that's real life. But in a fictionalized setting—why? What would it add, when I know that the truth of what happened to Mumbo was going to be mundane anyway? Why introduce this bizarre secondary plot element just to distract Grian and the reader? It could have just been a mistaken report, not a purposeful one, but it's just derail the story in a very unsatisfying way.

In the end the only remaining trace of this idea is Grian in chapter 5 (?) saying that someone had seen Mumbo at the Cloud Lake Trail and provided an eyewitness report. Which, for the record, is supposed to be an accurate account—he did go there, his car was there, and he did get spotted there at the beginning of his trip. He just diverged from the trail at a later point.

🔥I meant to do a fun little formatting thing and have Mumbo's past through processes and actions be intercut with Grian's present-day processes in Chapter 11. Or to put that more clearly, when Grian was running down the mountain away from the fire (but before he saw Mumbo) I wanted his choices to be contrasted with the ones Mumbo made. It would've been a stylistic choice. Mumbo's paragraphs might have been in italics, and I toyed with doing a right alignment instead of left alignment so it'd really stand out. The idea was to show how their two independent thought processes converged and led them to the same point on the mountain at different times. It would've been the only time in the story we ever got something from Mumbo's POV.

I scrapped this because I hated what I'd written in Mumbo's sections and never got around to rewriting it or adding it in retroactively. I think it was a cool idea but I did not pull it off. I don't the the fic is worse for it, though. I think it does a good enough job leading the reader into that parallel without spelling it out Quite that much. I also kind of....like that Mumbo never has his own voice in this story to explain his own decisions. It's sad, but it's part of the story.

🔥I seriously did not always have the main wildfire at the end of the story in the plot. I actually initially had Scar just coaxing Grian to tell him where he was, or allowing the search and rescue to come find him. And that would've been it, the search and rescue coming.

🔥Or.....when I toyed with whether or not Grian and Scar should meet at the ending of the story, I also considered an alternate ending where Scar came to Grian to rescue him. That he reported Grian's location to SAR, and then came himself. I scrapped this because it made no sense logistically. It's all well and good for there to be a dramatic scene of Scar coming to Grian's aid and them meeting for the first time in person. But Scar is miles away. And more importantly, Scar has an established disability and chronic pain that limits the trails he walks on. He specifically says he hasn't explored trails too far from his lookout because it'll pretty much wipe all his spoons for ages. (well, he doesn't say spoons because this is the 80s, but that was the meaning.) I was like okay. He's not only far from the trail but he's literally physically unable to make it there in time and one thing I'm NOT doing in this fic is undermining his disability (especially since I already had to make him a ~certain~ degree abled in order to do the job.) So I kept him in his spot. I think it added more tension anyway, because it's such a special kind of horror he experienced having to witness everything go down but be unable to help Grian other than over the radio.

🔥Speaking of the wildfire, I had a version where Grian escaped it for an embarassingly long time. Like until January or even February still (of this year!) The idea was the Grian outran it and then got found. A lot of this was just that I didn't want to figure out how to write him surviving a wildfire. I knew it'd be difficult and straddle the line of unbelievable. I wanted to take the easier way out of writing the scene.

But honestly...there was no way else the scene could've gone. I spelled it out in chapter 8 with my rather blatant foreshadowing—you CAN'T outrun a wildfire. I mean, I guess in good circumstances with good wind and experience you probably could. Afterall, hotshot crews and wildland firefighters are able to get in and around the fires without (normally) casualties all the time. But fires move faster than people. WAY faster. It'd just be a disappointing conclusion for Grian to somehow be the Super Lucky One who somehow skipped being in the danger. No, I had to follow through with what I'd set up and just go for it.

🔥I also entertained an idea of him sheltering in the overhang with Mumbo. It would've played out nearly like the fire played out in the main fic, the only difference was with him. It was the most "meaningful" option for shelter (since the other options were no shelter, and random shelter.) He would've been surviving death right next to Mumbo, who didn't survive. I could have made that very poignant if I wanted.

But I disliked this because I'd already written the part about Grian deciding to move on. I felt that bit of the scene was really key for the message of the story as a whole.

I wanted Grian to make the CHOICE to live instead of just refuse to move and survive anyway. You know? Grian, in-universe, would have no idea what decision would lead to his survival. But as the author with the power to do what I want, I knew he was surviving all my options. So my options were: 1) easy scene to write where he survives but doesn't experience much danger, 2) hard scene where he survives and makes the conscious decision to live and move forward, and 3) medium difficulty scene where he survives but was still emotionally stuck-in-place.

(Above: some random notes I typed about the finale scene options on my phone, in a situation where I should NOT have been writing fic notes on my phone lol)

In case it's not obvious, the final scene is the second one—Grian makes that key decision to live, but still experiences the danger I've set up so that I can follow through on the tension I created.

🔥I restructured the final chapter so that there was a bigger gap in time between Scar and Grian talking about Everything and Grian arriving. I initially had it when Grian essentally just came...and then like 5 mins later they were laying all that out while Grian sat on the bed. It just made the vibes of the scene Off. It was too quick, not satisfying. So I kept most of the same dialogue and stuff and structured it into a chapter where Grian meets Scar, and they kind of spend a mostly chill afternoon talking and hanging out until they delve into the Deep Stuff later that night while stargazing (let's be real you can never go wrong with stargazing for a deep scene.) I felt it was likely they'd kind of pretend everything was "normal" at first until they were more comfortable in each other's prescence. Also, we ALL know the middle of the night is when the real stuff comes out lmao. You can see my cut up and reused pieces of the original chapter version in the indented italic parts of chapter 12. I liked some of those interactions so I wanted to preserve them somehow even though the final chapter was structured in a way that cut it out.

So far, that's all of the major plot differences that I can think of at the moment. Some of the other elements (like the mistaken permit situation) came into play after I already had chapters uploaded, but I don't have a concrete idea of what might have happened in their place. Chapter 9 really evolved and got out of hand as I wrote it, but I knew from a few chapters earlier that he was going to do Something that got him fired. So I was able to refine the specific actions when I got there, since I just knew it had to be major and outlandish in the name of getting more information.

I had most of this story worked out ahead of time. But there were absolutely major changes that happened during the course of writing it. I was just fortunate that my intense outlining and focus on it ensured that I never encountered a situation where I had to make changes that majorly affected an already uploaded chapter. Yay for sticking close to the general outline even when the details were in question!

If I think of anything else, I'll reblog this post. :)

#i kind of like reviewing these things because i think i made the right choice in all cases #and built the story i have now #and i think that....working through these options and analyzing them. determining the ways in which they did/didn't work.#determining what message they'd send about the story versus the message i wanted to actually convey #is one thing that made me improve as a writer and made this story better #a lot of this AU came easily to me since i just....wanted to write about and explore this #if it didn't come easy to me it probably wouldn't have happened because i wouldn't have pursued the story long enough to piece it together #but the rest of it came from a lot of work and analysis and self-criticism in order to make sure my plot points were all Purposeful #i reviewed this fic to hell and back. if there was a scene in the story it was because I Meant It To Be There and had a reason for it #hc_firewatch_au

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wildflowercryptid · 9 months

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i'd still love to see a farming sim introduce a rival marriage system that let's you influence who gets with who (à la fire emblem awakening or fates' pairing system.) i think a wonderful life would've been a great game to implement that in bc i feel all the marriage candidates could interact with each other in really interesting ways, especially if that marriage system also allowed for same sex relationships.

#ngl i would just love to see more of the awl marriage candidates interact w/ each other in general #to be fair i haven't gotten a lot of events yet so there might be more interactions between them later on #i desperately want to see lumina and gustafa sharing their interest in music with each other #imagine lumina asking gustafa for his advice on how to improve her skills and he reveals that he has some classical music experience...#*i meant classically trained the word was escaping me when i was writing these tags #she finds his traveling stories absolutely captivating and his music slowly starts to show an influence on her own playing #idk if i'd want to see them in a relationship but i'd definitely love to see them be friends #but matt/gustafa or gordy/gustafa? there's definitely some potential there i just know it #and i think lumina could have an interesting relationship with molly or nami... 🤔#they're both a lot more worldly than her so they'd provide a glimpse outside of the small world she's always know #i just really miss the rival system guys.....#story of seasons #a wonderful life #mj.txt

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handgiven · 7 months

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I NEVER KNEW YOU BUT I KNOW YOU WERE LOVED

a short story about an angel choosing to live within a physical body for the first time, a taste of emmanuel's past, through his point of view .)

(trigger warning for starvation, abandonment & death mention)

i saw the girl alone, first, and i knew she was looking for somebody. the woods were dark back then and dense with flora small and tall, in a continuous conflict over the few specks of light that came down to the forest floor. i knew those woods well, travelling ray of sunlight, greeting all those struggling plants like old friends. they were in a battle of life and death and i couldn’t decide it for them, but i could touch them gently and say do not give up yet. sometimes that was enough.

the girl needed more than that. scraped knees and teary eyes, sprawled over the roots of an old tree, she looked like she just tripped over, but it’s been hours that she was there, crying and screaming in a language i did not yet understand back then. a ray of sunlight can do little more than peek through the leaves and dry a tear or two. a ray of sunlight can hardly comfort a human soul so deeply and unconditionally upset as that of a child, abandoned.

i remained near, watching. there were other things to do, surely, but i worried that should i leave her, i might never find her again. humans had a way of being so fleeting back in the day. a flower i knew i knew i would find a thousands of years later growing in the same place, generations down the line. or just encounter its familiar atoms turned into another one’s lifeblood. humans had no such luxury. dead humans would not in turn be turned into new ones, and only those that stayed alive were allowed to procreate. humans were ephemeral even to me, as a wave of light.

i stayed. for hours anchored in one place through the power of sheer human anguish. the loud sounds in her threatened to tear her apart, until she fell silent, exhausted. ocassionally a sob would still make her shoulders tremble, but a sort of deadly resignation took over as she was cradled by the tree roots and nothing more. the world grew colder as night approached and i knew there was nothing left to do, for the lone ray of sunlight bears no power in the dark.

she shivered as the cold snuck closer to her, but so did i. settling into her very arms, i was there as a source of comfort, hoping someone she knew would show eventually.

they didn’t. two more days and nights have passed and though i did my best to shield her from unwelcome attention from creatures lurking in the dark, i could tell she was growing weak. i didn’t yet know how, i knew very little about humans back then. first i thought she was just discouraged, a few times i’d entered her chest to be her guiding light but – her feet wouldn’t carry her any more, even if she tried. she cried less of desparation and more of pain. she spoke things i still didn’t understand but that i felt on some deeper level. it broke my heart even before i had one.

she opened up her soul to me, unknowing. unraveling there in solitude. her father left her there, made her promise to wait and never came back again. the things in the dark tore him apart. she didn’t know it but i’d seen his bones a little farther along the way. she didn’t know it but if it wasn’t for me the things in the dark would have found her, too.

she had her father’s eyes, deep and dark and full of wonder. or so i imagined they were before everything. i knew those eyes from her memory, and with each passing day that was where she spent more of her time. no one was coming. not her father, not her family, not her tribe. i was there but i was but a ray of sunlight.

i came to know her father’s face. she thought of him lovingly, even though he’d left her. she was still hoping. in memory, i learned to know his hands, too, and his arms, as they held her and fed her food. his smiling lips, the curls of his hair as they bounced, his voice deep and dramatic as he wailed when she held his hair in her tiny fist, when he carried her around upon his shoulders. i never knew him but i knew he loved and was loved.

i found myself wishing i had hands of my own. i found myself wishing for more than to be a ray of light, a metaphysical reminder of god’s everyday presence with no grasp upon the living world. i found myself wishing i could do more when the child fell sick from lack of food and care. i found myself – creating.

i had never created anything before. i was a humble witness to the beauty of the creator’s work but i did not bear the power they had. i did not know how, for i had no imagination, not an ounce of creativity, just this love too big, and a conscience full of living memory of someone i’d never met. that was what i used to create, in the end.

a body of clay as i’d watched done before, penetrated by sunlight, and made warm and dry from within until the uppermost layers began to crack and fall apart. layer by layer, thin as a leaf, they turned to dust and through their departure a face began to form. a neck, a chest, a limb. the grass growing by the riverside darkened and curled into hair and for the first time, my hands were mine. i came to life kneeling upon the earth, touching grass with my fingertips and recognising from whence i came. his face looked at me from the lazy river and i promised him i would do right by the both of us.

the worry i felt moving through the forest was ever so physical and i couldn’t tell if it was because having a body was so much heavier than i could imagine or if it was because i’d let her go for more than a few moments. once again i was terrified i would push the curtain of leaves aside and she would no longer be there. how could i tell how long i’d been gone? it is not every day that you embody the earth.

her body was frail and weak. she was breathing with difficulty and i’d realised my chest did not move. i drew in a breath, foreign and strange, and in it i tasted the world for the first time. green and brown and beautiful, i could feel it upon my tongue and parting my lips ever so slightly, i recalled i’d picked up some apricots while by the riverside. i’d seen them in her memory, i knew she was happy the last time she had them. i knew she needed every bit of strength in order to find her way back home.

i touched her hand, then, ever so gently, and my physical head felt dizzy with the sensation. not only did the world have a taste, touching a human being had a feeling. her hand was small and i could feel the very real smallness of it upon my palm. she was small and i could hold her in my arms with ease. her eyes looked at me and when i saw her looking i could feel her very soul reaching out. she knew my face, she knew who i was there to be and she loved me with every fibre of her being. she knew i would come back for her. she knew she was safe.

i carried her in my arms the whole way to a settlement. i gave her water to drink and food to eat and i’d recognised that if i had known to do that earlier she needn’t have suffered so much. it was my fault that she suffered so, but it was also me who saved her life, and she in turn saved mine. started mine. sometimes i can still feel her frail trembling body in my arms. i can hear her voice in my ears and my heart fills with love. i know not if it is because i stole her dead father’s face. but a part of me thinks that it’s because she saw me, for who i was and who i was capable of becoming.

she saw mercy and love and healing. for through touch i could give so much more than as a simple being of light. having a body, i found i knew others’ bodies better than as a mere onlooker. i knew their pains and their wounds and the blood that spilled when they were hurt. i knew where to touch them to make them better, where to help them heal. she saw me, and i loved her too.

i left her near the fire, where i knew they would find her soon enough. her father was dead and i could not be that to her, nor could i hope to try. she found a new family and she never saw me again. i saw her a few times, from a safe enough distance. i saw her happy and sad, but mostly just living a human life. ordinary and exciting as the first fall of snow. i never met her father but i still carry him with me to this day. a vision out of love and hope. i could never wish for better hands to hold the world in.

#▻ 𝐺𝐸𝑁𝐸𝑅𝐴𝐿 、stories ⁽ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵘˢᵉˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ˡᶦᶠᵉ ⁾#anyways i was thinking a lot about emmanuel and physicality and that in context with the story of how he got his Body and uhhh #here it is beacuse herald enabled me.#i know that its very likely no one will read this but it meant the world to me to write it.#also wrote it from em's pov because i didn't want to be a disembodied narrator narrating a ray of light. that just doesn't work.#i will reblog this later when people are on... but i do wanna post it now because i am full of emotion #▻ 𝐸𝑀𝑀𝐴𝑁𝑈𝐸𝐿 、musings ⁽ ˡᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵖᵒᵘʳˢ ᶦᵗˢᵉˡᶠ ⁾

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wereh0gz · 2 months

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Idk what's going on with me rn but. Idk what to do with a bunch of my sonic ocs anymore. Specifically ruby, their parents, the cat fam, and nox. I just don't feel like I can tell their stories at all. But I don't want to retire them either. But I still feel like I'm slowly growing. Detached?

Idk what I want to do. Maybe a revamp or something? I was already considering redesigning the twins but maybe I need a complete rewrite or something. Idk when I'd get to it tho. I've been in an art rut for a bit now. Haven't felt like drawing at all and I don't feel satisfied with the one thing I tried to make recently (which, ironically, involved ruby and the twins).

Idk what to do.

#ramblings #neg #i guess #i think part of why i feel so lost with them is bc they were meant to be part of a story #whereas characters like livewire and elysium and nebby i kinda just made for funsies?#like none of them were made to be part of anything greater #but with the others. i kind of feel like i failed them #bc i couldn't tell the story they're a part of #and honestly don't know what else to do with them #not in art or writing or. anything #and they're special to me. they really are #i've had them for years. i've been trying to write their stories nearly as long as they've existed but i kept failing #and then i gave up on it. and now it's like. they've lost their purpose?#or more like they can't fulfill their purpose bc of my own pitfalls as an artist and writer #and it hurts. like a lot #and i'm not sure what to do about it #i've been feeling really detached from my work in general and just. haven't been having as much fun with it #maybe it's depression. idk #i'm tired

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dilf-phoenix-rights · 1 year

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Insane to me when ppl criticize a mystery series having mysteries left “unfinished” at the end. Girl, it’s not “unfinished” it’s setting shit up for later, and, as someone joining in on a mystery series, you signed up for that being a possibility.

#aa opinions that annoy me #aa4 and dgs1 are not ‘unfinished’ they were meant to focus on a certain arc and set up things for a separate arc #aa4 just got shafted because capcom demanded an aa5 while Shu Takumi was too busy to write it but that’s not aa4s fault #and if you still feel that way about dgs1 knowing that it gets tied up it dgs2 youre insane #I can understand finding it worrying because of things that happen like the aa4 to aa5 transition #because gaming companies have ruined your trust #but to call it bad writing when you are playing a game you are well aware is part of a series #just sounds really short sighted #because the only alternative is to either simplify the story till it has lost so much that it isn’t the same anymore #or to haphazardly rush everything in one game #which would again take away a lot of other things and it would feel cheap #———#DGS 1 & 2 spoilers coming up #Like say whatever you want about the pacing of dgs1 #(I loved it personally personally)#but so much of dgs2 would NOT have fucking hit the way it did without the character explorations in 1 and the time given to stew #If you think Kazuma dying in like episode 1 before we can get to know him at all #and then rushing Ryunosuke’s grief (which now surrounds a guy we arent nearly as endeared to) identity crisis and character development #through 1-2 1-3 and 1-4 so that you can get to a case 5 where ‘WHOAH that guy we dont know is back’#and then rush through the ruinion and brewing tension and explainations that were in 2-4 and 2-5 now into one case #…is somehow better than properly exploring Ryuu’s growth and the people & relationships he makes along the way #while letting Kazuma haunt the narrative for a good chunk of the games before suddenly being there again but not how we remember #than…idk what to say

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skyloftian-nutcase · 2 years

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Elastic Heart (Linked Universe story)

Summary: When Sky goes missing, the Chain scrambles to figure out where he is and what happened before it's too late.

(Click here to read on AO3)

Next chapter >>

Chapter 1: The Portal

Warriors spat out blood.

The plan was going well. They’d found a monster encampment, much to their relief as they’d been tracking the pack for at least two days. Warriors had come up with a quick strategy, and then they’d engaged.

Wild eliminated the lookouts easily enough. That had given them the advantage. Of course, they hadn’t counted on exactly how many monsters there were. But if they stayed vigilant, they’d be all right.

Pulling his sword out of a bokoblin, the captain turned to see how everyone was faring. Wind and Legend were back-to-back against a small pack of stalfos, but they had the situation well in hand. Time and Twilight were handling a moblin, and Hyrule had already eliminated several lizalfos alongside Four. Wild was—

Wild was about to get hit.

“Champion!” Warriors shouted in warning as he rushed to the amnesiac’s aid. Wild was too busy eliminating a wizzrobe to notice the bokoblin behind him, ready to strike—

The bokoblin’s head was separated cleanly from its body just before Warriors got within range, making the captain jump. The bokoblin fell as Wild turned, revealing Sky standing there, his Master Sword dripping with the beast’s black blood.

“Thanks,” Wild said breathlessly.

Sky smiled. “No problem.”

And just like that, the battle continued. Warriors returned his attention to his immediate surroundings, and shortly thereafter the camp was cleared.

Warriors pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the black blood off his sword while he heard a ruckus behind him. Turning, he saw Wind and Hyrule laughing, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, shouting at the sky.

“Your black blood army sucks!” Wind yelled.

Chuckling, the captain sheathed his weapon as Twilight settled the excitable teenagers. The adrenaline of the fight started to fade, and Time commented that he would search the perimeter for stragglers. Warriors nodded, staying with the rest of the group and remaining vigilant.

As Warriors corralled the other heroes together, Twilight paused mid step, his hand on Wild’s shoulder. The champion and the captain both noticed the change and looked at him questioningly.

“What’s wrong?” Wild asked.

“I thought I heard something,” Twilight said softly, his body tense.

Everyone who heard him stilled, listening. A little splash came east of them by a stream, and they whirled around to face it.

A single octorok peeked out before slowly floating into the air, oblivious to them.

Legend raised his bow and nocked an arrow, ready to strike, when Wild leapt in from behind and snatched the octorok around its mouth. The little creature was still inflated, attempting to squeal in protest.

“You’re not going to eat it, are you?” Legend asked hesitantly as he lowered his weapon, disgust twisting his face at just the mere thought of it.

Hyrule’s eyes brightened, a hopeful look crossing his face.

Wild laughed. “Of course not, they’re best in potions! Besides, I figured out something way better for these guys. Watch!”

“Uh, what is that?” Twilight asked, wary. Legend opened his mouth to explain when Four spoke first.

“It’s—what the hell, Champion?!” Four exclaimed as Wild pressed his lips against the octorok’s mouth and inhaled sharply.

“Did—did you just kiss an octorok?!” Wind asked, laughing so hard he nearly fell to the ground.

Wild smiled mischievously, saying, “Heck yeah, I did!”

Everyone froze. What was… what happened to Wild’s voice?! It sounded so unbelievably high pitched, like a fairy trying to speak!

Wind was in tears. “Holy crap that’s amazing!”

Sky’s mouth fell to the floor. “How did you do that?”

“You just kiss it and breathe in!” Wild replied in his high-pitched tone.

Sky reached hesitantly and Wind nearly dove for the octorok, but Legend swatted their hands away. “Stop, how do you know those things aren’t poisonous?”

Wild’s lips trilled as he blew air through them in a dismissive manner. “Please, I’ve done this so many times I’ve lost count. It’s fine.”

“How did he find out the first time?” Four muttered.

Seeming satisfied with the explanation, Twilight took the octorok and kissed it first. Then he spluttered and nearly tossed the creature back into the water. “Ew, gross, tongue, ugghhhh—”

Sky leaned heavily against Hyrule as the pair and Wind were practically cracking their ribs with their howling. Twilight’s voice matched Wild’s, but his frantic delivery made it pitch up by an octave.

Warriors snorted, his chest burning from the effort it took to not double over in hysterics. “My, my, Rancher, I didn’t know you were that kind of kisser.”

Twilight promptly punched him on the arm. Warriors couldn’t help the grunt that got knocked out of his lungs; even playfully, the Ordonian’s swings were strong enough to send him stumbling.

A delighted squeal tore through the air as Wind giggled and tossed the octorok to Hyrule. Wind started yelling at the top of his lungs, and Sky immediately pulled out his lyre.

“Wait, wait, you—you know so—so many songs,” Sky said eagerly, halting between words because he was giggling at his own pitched voice so much. “So I’ll play, you sing!”

By the time Warriors could catch his breath again, the octorok had passed between so many Links that the captain had lost track, and Wind was singing sea shanties at ear splitting levels. The captain wondered if Time would come rushing back thinking they were torturing fairies.

Hyrule ran over to Warriors, his eyes sparkling, his cheeks flushed with excitement. “Here, your turn!”

The captain grabbed the wiggling octorok, staring at it nervously. He looked at Legend curiously, wondering if the veteran had actually kissed it, and raised an eyebrow.

Legend bit his lip, crossed his arms, and looked away. Warriors cackled. Oh, he kissed it.

Well, might as well try it out.

Putting the slimy lips to his own, Warriors couldn’t help but shudder a little bit, but he inhaled hastily nonetheless before tossing the poor creature back into the water.

“Aw, wait, no, we still need him!” Wild yelled from his place beside Sky, his voice slipping from a high soprano to his more typical tenor.

Warriors wiped his mouth and then tested his voice carefully. “He needs a break too, Champion, he’s had eight different people kissing him.”

Oh goddesses he could just see Zelda losing her composure at his voice. He blushed at the thought of it, and then he had to laugh at himself.

A twig snapped at the edge of the clearing, and all the voices hushed at once. Everyone turned, swords at the ready, when Time emerged from the shadows.

No one said a word.

Their leader crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, seeming to be waiting for something. Warriors narrowed his eyes. He knew that mischievous glint in the man’s eye. He was up to something, but no one dared to speak and reveal their silly game. Time was, after all, the most serious of the lot, and many of the boys had suffered under his disapproving glare.

Time took a deep breath. “I thought I heard fairies over here, so I had to investigate.”

There was a moment where everyone registered that the man’s usual baritone was three octaves higher, and then the tension snapped.

Wind doubled over, his octorok-induced operatic tones shifting to normal laughter. Sky blew out a sigh of relief alongside Four and Hyrule, while Legend and Twilight chuckled. Wild scurried to the stream to find the octorok again, only to whine in disappointment when it was evident the creature was long gone.

Warriors giggled, which then erupted into full blown belly laughter as he heard his own voice again.

Time smiled, relaxing, and motioned with his head. “Come on. Let’s go find a place to make camp. This is too exposed.”

XXX

The group sat in a circle around the campfire, comfortable after a hearty dinner.

“We should do a storytelling game!” Wind suddenly suggested.

“How does that work?” The champion asked curiously.

“One of us starts by telling a line of a story, and then we go from person to person and add to it,” Wind explained with a wave of his arm. “It’s fun!”

Sky smiled over at the smithy. “Why don’t you start?”

Four brightened significantly at the offer. “Sure! Once, there was a person known as the Hero of Men. Legend stated he had been gifted a sacred sword called the Picori Blade.”

Wind jumped in before Four could continue. “Yeah, the Picori Blade! It’s a magical sword that can shoot fireballs the size of mountains! And you can pick your teeth with it too!”

Four bristled. “That’s not—”

Wind laughed heartily, clapping Four on the back. “Oh relax, it’s a game, remember? Besides, Picori, picking, they sounded similar enough—”

Four’s face was steadily growing redder, and he looked like he was about to go off while Wild giggled at Wind’s joke.

“Let’s move on to the next person,” Sky inserted. “Smithy got us off to a great start. So, the Picori Blade was given to the Hero of Men and it can shoot fireballs. Champion, I think you’re next in the circle.”

Four settled with a calming breath as the offending addition by Wind was diplomatically left out, and Wind eagerly looked at Wild to continue the tale. The champion eagerly continued the legend, and Twilight had to smile at it all. He looked at Sky especially, happy the younger hero was able to smooth ruffled feathers so easily. In a group as variable as theirs, that was a crucial gift to have.

Twilight was startled out of his musings when Wild elbowed him. “Your turn, silly!”

Oh. Wait, what had Wild said? “Uh, yes, and then everything changed when the bokoblins attacked.”

Everyone stared at him, and Twilight felt himself blushing. “Haha, I guess I might’ve missed the last part… what did you say, Champion?”

Wild rolled his eyes. After repeating himself, Twilight added to the tale a little distractedly before letting his mind wander again. He wondered how much longer they’d be in this particular Hyrule, seeing as it had been almost a month. He rubbed absentmindedly at the old, mostly healed wound on his side, a parting gift from the Shadow in accompaniment to the realization that it could shapeshift. The wound rarely bothered him at this point, but it still acted up like any other newly scarred tissue.

Eventually the wild tale ranged from the Hero of Men defeating evil to dancing in his boxers in the rain and then being cursed by an evil cuccoo (Sky was distraught at this) to never be able to dance again. It took an even more tragic turn when dancing was required for a dungeon puzzle and the Hero of Men could only remove the cuccoo curse by wearing Princess Zelda’s most cumbersome dress and twirling while whistling Zelda’s lullaby. At this point, Twilight wasn’t even sure how it had managed to get this insane or who added what part, but he was laughing nonetheless.

When the great cuccoo curse was lifted and the Hero of Men danced triumphantly and obtained the Triforce of Courage, Time decided that was a good enough ending for the legend. The conversation eventually shifted, steering towards more serious topics. Matters of the Shadow, his abilities, and his motivations became the primary topic, and everyone was heavily engrossed in it.

“Well…” Hyrule said thoughtfully, staring at the fire. “He’s a Shadow, a being from the Dark Realm. He’s probably just trying to cause chaos. He’s evil.”

Twilight felt something within him tighten and snap at the phrasing, already having heard this from Four about his shadow crystal. While the object itself was a cursed item, the implications that all that came from a dark realm was automatically wrong did not sit well with him. “You can’t just assume that everything from the Dark Realm is evil.”

“It’s certainly corrupting, at the least,” Four intoned, carefully avoiding Twilight’s eyes. This was not a new argument between the two.

“Ganon corrupted things in my world,” Wild supplied. “Maybe it’s his agent.”

Everyone paused a moment. The topic of Ganon had been tossed around, but they weren’t too sure how much they should consider it. In this new light, it seemed a bit more plausible.

Legend nodded. “That’s possible. Ganon had turned the Sacred Realm into something of a Dark Realm in my world. Maybe the Shadow itself is Ganon, trying to do the same thing here. And the goddesses brought all of us together to eliminate him!”

"Technically, the dark portals brought us together, but your point still stands," Four amended. "I suppose the goddesses would have found a way to get us together for this."

“Wow, he really does just keep coming back, doesn’t he?” Wind noted.

Everyone except Sky nodded sagely.

Warriors shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time the goddesses have thrown heroes together to solve a big crisis.”

The statement held a certain finality to it, an acceptance of an assumption they were slowly building on.

With that, Time ended the discussion. “What matters is how we handle the problem now that it’s here. We can start by getting some rest. It’s getting late. Let’s divide up watch.”

XXX

Sky absentmindedly poked at the fire with a stick. He had taken third watch, but to be honest, he hadn’t slept through the first two either. As soon as everyone had settled for the night, Sky had tossed and turned, haunted by the conversation they’d had, haunted by the guilt and steadily growing realization of the situation around him.

Whimpering caught his attention, and he turned to see Wild shifting in his bedroll, his eyes squeezed shut. Sky watched him for a moment, his heart aching at the sight, and then stood and walked over to the champion. He knelt beside him, putting a careful, gentle hand on his arm, running it back and forth in a soothing motion.

As Wild steadily relaxed, Sky felt his heart fall somewhere into the vicinity of his stomach. The champion was plagued with nightmares from whatever hell he’d endured that gave him those scars.

And it was Sky’s fault.

Sky had long since figured out that Demise’s last words had not been a spiteful and empty threat, but a legitimate promise of enduring suffering. Words spoken as a curse had indeed infused dark magic into the land, and it was entirely due to Sky’s inability to end things sooner.

What if he had cut the demon king’s head off while he spoke? Would the curse still fall on him? Would murdering a defeated foe curse him in itself? He didn’t know. All he knew was that he had, in fact, let Demise doom everyone and everything.

The stick snapped in half in Sky’s white knuckled grip. He let it slip out of his fingers alongside the splinters and tiny trickle of blood that followed. He felt agonizing anxiety and self-loathing, and then he shook his head, numbing his mind and heart to the best of his ability in order to cope. Making his way back to the fire, he rubbed his hand against his pants, the stinging pain that it brought bringing his foggy head back to reality with startling clarity.

Sky had done this to all of them. And now… maybe he had done this too. This journey, this adventure, this danger.

Twilight almost died because of me.

He loved his brothers dearly. He saw how they dedicated every fiber of their being to their duty. He saw how they enjoyed it but also hurt from it all the same. He saw Time’s disdainful and fearful looks at the Master Sword. He saw Twilight’s melancholy gaze at the sunset. He saw Warriors’ shaking hands after a particularly hard battle. He saw Legend skipping on sleep to avoid nightmares, he saw Hyrule constantly looking over his shoulder expecting a threat, he saw Wind cut beasts down with practiced ease despite being a child, he recognized Four’s careful words and calm demeanor as the meticulously practiced coping mechanisms that they were.

And Wild’s scars screamed more than anything he could ever say.

A rustling sound caught Sky’s attention, snapping him out of his musings. He stiffened, alert for danger. He heard more movement, but it was coming from farther away, below the cliff that the campsite hugged. Rising, he slowly walked to the edge of the cliff a dozen or so steps away from the edge of camp, continuously checking and rechecking the perimeter. When he got to the drop, he saw the tree line below, and he could barely make out movement in the early dawn light.

Bokoblins.

Sky reached for his blade silently, and then froze. One of the bokoblins was darker than the usually red or blue hued monsters, and its eyes glowed red in the darkness.

The Shadow.

That shapeshifting monster was here.

Sky immediately whirled, ready to awaken the others, but then something stopped his voice before it could escape his throat. Turning back, he looked down again, watching as the pack of beasts moved away from the cliff, deeper into the forest.

I can take them. I’ve taken an army before.

Sky’s breath caught at the vehement thought. His head was still spinning with guilt and pain and fear and anger, the words maybe the Shadow is Ganon himself reverberating in his soul.

If the Shadow really was Ganon…

Then it was Demise.

And Sky was not sending his brothers to get hurt again by the demon king that he was supposed to kill.

Something snapped into place in his mind, heart, and soul. His body filled with fire. Taking a deep breath, Sky turned back to camp, making haste to pack his belongings. Then he shook Wild roughly to ensure the champion woke.

Wild stirred, moaning, and that was all the indication Sky needed. He ran back to the cliffside, sailcloth in his hands, and scanned the area again.

The bokoblins were gone. That meant they headed south, away from his brothers. He could track them.

Sky stepped forward, launching himself off the cliff without a second’s hesitation. The cool morning air numbed his face and hands, but his grip on the sailcloth was as strong as iron. He deployed the cloth at the last moment and let the energy he’d picked up allow him to roll forward. He tied the sailcloth around his waist, hiding behind a tree to examine his surroundings.

Footprints were clear in the dim light due to some mud. Sky avoided the wet soil to remain quiet as he continued his hunt. He heard no noise whatsoever, which he didn’t like – they hadn’t had enough time to get that far away.

Drawing the Master Sword and his shield, Sky tread carefully onward. The trail continued until it led into a larger clearing. Sky hung at the outskirts, ensuring this wasn’t an enemy camp or a ambush waiting to happen.

Instead, he saw a familiar sight.

A portal.

Approaching it slowly, he processed the tracks leading directly to it. So the Shadow had moved on, taking his army with him.

Disappointment and frustration boiled his blood, and then he took a calming breath, letting the morning air cool his flushed face. He stared at the portal for what felt like hours.

He should go back to camp. He should tell the others what he found. He should ensure they’re okay.

But this… this was the best way to ensure they would be okay. This was the best way to make up for his incomprehensible failure. He imagined Wild’s humming while he cooked, Wind’s exuberant laughter, Twilight’s gentle smiles and hugs, Time’s steadfastness, Four’s words of wisdom, Hyrule’s warmth and excitement for exploration, and Legend’s watchful concern and softness.

He imagined Warriors, a knight with honor, who had borne so much yet still had an air of joviality and calm. A knight who had fulfilled his duty despite all the odds against him.

He would protect his brothers. He wasn’t going to give the Shadow any extra precious time to regroup. He would not be late. He was Hylia’s Chosen Hero, and he would fulfill his duty and end this.

Sheathing his blade, Link stared determinedly through the portal, and marched ahead alone.

#writing #linkeduniverse #linked universe #curse reveal fic #this story is meant to read as an LU arc #so lots of character interactions and misadventures around a central plot #which is very intimidating to me because I don't grasp all the boys that well #but the idea wouldn't leave me so here we are #let's have some fun #elastic heart

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punkascas · 4 months

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aww, man, i'm hella bummed over the news of ofmd.

i wasn't even jonesing that hard for s3 — like i'd of course watch it when it came out, but s2 reiterated and reenforced for me why i'll always choose fandom and fanworks over canon — but i feel gutted for the writers and actors. i feel grieved and jaded. and i feel aggravated that it is a familiar, well-worn groove of jaded grief over how queer stories and stories centred on non-white cis characters with diverse casts don't get their chance to flourish and grow. they don't feed the capitalist beast, even though they absolutely fckin do you're just dumb media executives. those stories are not as easy to market; not the sure, quick buck. not the stories for 18 – 25 year old straight white boys you can peddle to advertisers and that look good in quarterly-projection presentations.

i'm sad because the cast really seemed to get on. really seemed to have one of those rare mixes of chemistry and off-screen friendship. and i want to see them hang out and be creative together and fall further in love with now they portray found family on screen with so much ease and sincerity and full of genuine joy.

i'll miss them. i'll miss watching them play their characters. they seem to love them as much as and for the same reasons that we love those characters.

and to a lesser extent i'm a little disappointed to never find out what the plan would've been for s3, where djenks originally had the characters end up, how and if the creative decisions in s2 would've been addressed. fandom will of course find answers to this, and i know i'll probably think those stories are better if i could compare because i always do, but there's still a part of me that wants to know what djenks and the writing team and the cast would've done.

that all said, a part of me finds it extremely awkwardly morbidly hilarious that the s2 ending is now the official end. the ending that i can only read as a fascinating-yet-distressing lovecraftian horror story waiting to happen. like, not great as a final note due to how much it upset and divided the fandom. i wish it had been an ending that sparked opportunities for community-building and excitement and creativity that comes from a place of wanting more rather than feelings of betrayal or discomfort or creativity that comes from the need to process or to fix or to ignore.

but also as someone who enjoys absurdist dark humour, it's kind of perfect to me. the ending is an amazing (accidental) representation of schrödinger's cat of a conclusion. and i love it.

like, you can read the ending as happy. the main couple is together; the crew has their freedom and found family and can continue a life of adventure without the drama ed or stede can cause. izzy… whatever, i guess. whatever people who are cool with izzy's fate wanted for him.

or you can read the ending as, like: stede, run! you just shacked up with a known mentally and emotionally unstable guy who just very traumatically (and violently) ended a longterm codependent relationship. with the fresh grave of your boyfriend's ex right out front. because both of them are dudes that literally hoard each other's corpses because the codependence and obsessive possession just runs that deep. and you made these life choices while on an isolated spit of land with no one else around but the sea and a rundown shack whose aesthetics are straight out of a horror film. and that's implied to smell like death in one of your last lines of dialogue ever. nothing good will come of this, my guy.

if you know me, you know which reading i'm taking and running with.

#the gay pirate show #ofmd #ofmd spoilers #sort of #otp: divorced in a married state #edizzy: love means never having to let go of your rotting corpse #i have a lot of other thoughts about how they accidentally set up character arcs and character backstories #in a way that positioned the narrative beats the characters needed to complete their arcs #in direct opposition to the story and plot beats they originally meant to tell #which is part of why s2 starts to feel wonky #what the characters need based on their flaws and emotional wounds to self-actualise and grow by the end of the story #is not the story they intended to set up or thought they were writing #so all you can do with your characters is stall their development #or regress them #or sweep things under the rug #or change them in ways that feel unsupported and ooc #maybe i'll write a mini meta on this one day for my own sake just to organise my thoughts #ofmd critical #just in case #but no seriously you're telling me i'm supposed to root for stede and ed #when ed and izzy are so obsessed they can't even let go of each others' dead bodies #up to and including burial in a shallow grave in your garden highly visible from the front windows of your love nest with your new paramour #this is a red flag stede #this is the textbook definition of a red flag #adorable insane fucked up little freaks (edizzy) (affectionate)#kat talks

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