#I really appreciate the corrections actually

[genderqueerdykes]

As a genderqueer trans man, I've met far too many people who make "hating men" their entire fucking personality. And this is from cis radfem women, to trans lesbians, to cis male drag queens, to binary fucking trans men. So many people think "hating men" is how we solve society hating women. It is so not it.

"I hate men" is like people think they're scoring morality brownie points. It shows they've not actually taken any critical thoughts about feminism or the patriarchy. They're like "oh so I say this and people think I'm a good person? Cool then I will say it".

And sure there is nuance. In a lot of cases. But man haters really just cannot be arsed with this level of thinking, huh?

Sorry, I realise this is somewhat angry but! Obviously not aimed at you. Thank you for being so out spoken about this.

thank you so much for sending this i really, really appreciate it. you are so right.

it's literally a personality trait to so many people, it's embarrassing. like it's ACTUALLY embarrassing. people like to say cringe this cringe that. i think man hating, especially as a personality type, is one of the most embarrassing things you can choose to do. like we literally criticize misogynists here, people who genuinely spend tons of time thinking about and finding ways to oppress women. it's great that we talk about this. but making an entire personality type out of hating men isn't helping. it's not gonna make misogynistic men stop being misogynists. there are men who identify as proud misogynists. why is a woman identifying as a proud man hater be any different? same behavior.

"I hate men" is like people think they're scoring morality brownie points. It shows they've not actually taken any critical thoughts about feminism or the patriarchy. They're like "oh so I say this and people think I'm a good person? Cool then I will say it".

EXACTLY. it's virtue signalling. all "i hate men" is is virtue signalling. people trying to show off their peacock feathers to other people who suck up to terfs. they want to look like they're progressive and sound like a "good person". they so desperately want to be a "good queer," but all this is is sucking up to terfs and radfems. it's so painfully obvious that so many people see them as the ones who are "correct". i guarantee you way more people are secret radfems than they let on, or at the very least, parrot their beliefs without realizing. people will do everything in their power to discredit everyone but radfems and transradfems. like why are people so ready and willing to act like they're right about everything despite claiming to hate terfs. seems like a lot of the "i hate terfs" shit on here is also virtue signalling.

like, i'm calling people out for this. i'm so tired of seeing "op hates terfs" "terfs get the FUCK off my blog <3" and shit like that and then the person running the blog openly and giddily talks about how they hate all men. trans men. gay men. bi men. pan men. aro men. ace men. polyamorous men. bigender men. intersex men. gender non conforming men. butch men. genderfluid men. men who are also trans women. okay, well this is terf ideology. are you sure you hate terfs? because i think you're terfs.

like seriously the amount of people on here who literally spend all day sucking up to terfs and trans/radfems and then virtue signal and show off how much they say they hate terfs is staggering. the amount of people on here who proudly and loudly say they hate trans men and mascs with a passion but then turn around and "fuck terfs" is mind numbing. if you act like this, you're terfs. no matter what you think you're doing, you are sucking up to radfems and that's it. that's all you're accomplishing.

[iminmywritersdungeon]

@heyo-soul if you insist :) (I’ve been waiting for a moment to talk about any one of the insane aus floating around in my brain so thanks soul)

So I should start by prefacing that this is all a crack au. it’s my friend Ruby and I—you’ll recognize her from my authors notes—shooting the shit in our instagram DMs because we like the same stuff and we’re bored. This is not intended to be perfect to canon characterizations. I’m probably never going to write this into an actual fic because again: it’s a joke that I don’t really have the time to outline and type

That being said; while the actual concrete details and timeline of our au are shaky at best, the basic idea is this. Mel, Jayce, and Viktor get really drunk and have the in universe equivalent of a Vegas wedding. Viktor tries to correct the mistake and both Jayce and Mel want him to stay.

Listen ok here’s the sitch here’s the relationship triangle so Jayce and Mel are in a very loving and very public relationship. Viktor is absolutely PINING over both of them. Jayce and Mel are incredibly in love with him, and also sort of working under the assumption that he’s already part of the polycule. Unfortunately, Viktor’s self esteem and self worth in regards to his own relationships is so incredibly low that it never occurs to him that these people might care about him and want to be in a relationship with him.

That voice message is in reference to the giant portrait of Viktor that Jayce and Mel would ABSOLUTELY make because he sees it and STILL doesn’t get and he’s like “ah yes they appreciate my cheekbones. Aesthetically. Platonically.”

This all came from me describing a relationship on a show I’m watching and also this fic which is PHENOMENAL and I LOVE IT

So yeah that’s the Vegas wedding au. Tune in next time for the meljayvik celebrities au

[hockeyforbabes]

amber at the winter classic just in the wag jacket and beanie and connor is obsessed and loves skating around with her

Winter Classic

Master List

^^^edited image by me

"Ow not so tight!" Amber complains.

"They've got to be tight to protect your ankles," I remind her while I tie up her skate, "Ok other foot."

She switches her feet and lets me tie up the other one with no complaints this time.

"God you look good," I say with a smile taking her in as I stand up from tying her skates.

She gives me an appreciative smile and takes my hands, letting me help her stand up. Slowly, we walk to the rink, and I do my best to keep her balanced.

I take a step out on the ice first and hold her hands, "Ok just remember to go slow and bend your knees."

Cautious she takes a hesitant step onto the ice and flails a little when she wobbles but I quickly reach out to hold her steady.

"Connor Bedard I swear to God if you let me fall again..." She threatens.

I can tell she is getting frustrated with her inability to stay steady on the ice but I can't help the smile on my face. Her little yelps every time she starts to slide and the way her brows are furrowing in concentration are too cute.

This isn't her first time at a family skate event with me but her skating hasn't improved. Unfortunately, our first time skating together I wasn't prepared for how uncoordinated on the ice she would be and I let her fall. She was fine but she hasn't let me forget it.

"Baby, I've got you," I assure her wrapping my arms around her waist.

"That's what you said last time and I ended up on the ground," she glares at me.

She's just so cute I can't help but laugh, "Actually we ended up on the ground," I correct, "remember I cushioned your fall when you took us down."

"It was your fault though, you weren't holding me tight enough," She argues but her tone is light.

I pull her in closer to me holding her tight so there is no space between us as I skate us around, "Is this better?"

"Much better," she says finally smiling at me and placing her hands on my shoulders.

I pull her around the rink for a little bit as she gains her footing on the ice. We stop every now and then talking to some of the players and their kids. After she seems a little more comfortable I shift so now I'm behind her but I still hold her tight.

"Connor," She warns when she wobbles a little from me shifting.

"I know, I've still got you," I smile then lean in close to whisper, "just wanted to get a better look at the jacket."

I've seen her with my name and number on her back countless times at this point but I still get a little giddy every time. I wouldn't call myself possessive but I can't help how happy it makes me when she wears my name and everyone knows she is my girl. Today she is wearing a long cream parka with my name and number on it that the WAGs designed and got for all the girls.

After we had been official for a few months one of the players ' wives reached out to me for Amber's number so she could be included in the WAG stuff. Amber was apprehensive at first but she has grown close to a few of them and she always jokes about loving the "free swag".

"Have I mentioned how much I love this jacket?" I say still keeping my voice low.

"Oh, just a few times," she grins, "You just love me in anything that shows I'm yours."

"Sue me, so what if I want everyone to know you're my girl," I say leaning in to kiss her.

She turns her head to the side so I land on her cheek, "Connor there are a lot of cameras here," she says gesturing to all the media.

I groan knowing she is right. We are public with our relationship now and are proud to show each other off but we aren't big on PDA. The stupid photographers at every event make it hard though because sometimes I just really want to kiss my girlfriend.

"I don't care right now, you look so beautiful in the jacket and I'm so happy you are here. Just one?" I plead.

She looks around and then sighs, "Fine you can have one."

As soon as she says the words my lips are on hers. The kiss is simple and fairly PG but it feels good to finally get to kiss her. I can hear an increase in the camera shutters but it doesn't matter right now. After a moment we pull away but I don't let her out of my arms.

"Instagram is gonna go crazy with that picture," I joke.

"I'm sure they've already gotten plenty of pictures of you holding me too," she points out.

"So what? Everyone can know we are gross and in love, I don't care," I respond spinning her around.

"Oh my God what has gotten into you Connor," she says unable to contain her laughter.

I shrug, "I don't know I'm just really happy right now."

Grabbing her hands we continue our skate and I continue staring at her. Watching her wave to the wives and my teammates, her nose turning red from the cold, her giggles at the kids running around almost knocking people over. I'm so obsessed with this girl it's insane.

Soon I have to do media for tomorrow so I drop her off at the rink exit with a small kiss on her forehead.

"I just have a few interviews I have to do and then I'm all yours," I say not wanting to leave her.

I'm sad to leave her but I know I'll see her in just a little while. She goes off with the other WAGs and helps wrangle in some of Foligno's kids.

I keep watching her on the sidelines until I hear the boys call for me. "Bedsy get that dopey grin off your face and come do this interview."

Author's note <3

This request was fun to write and I loved making the social media post for it. Remember to feel free to send in requests, I love the inspo.

[toyota-supra]

it does, and I do appreciate its inclusion (I especially appreciate that you can now choose which items are available, which is a great house rules feature) but MK8 is not built for no-items, and as you have already pointed out I do not think would be a correct direction for the series

I don't know what I'd do necessarily as I am not an experienced game designer with such pedigree as nintendo but I would at the very least take a look at the recent fangame Robotnik's Ring Racers, where item boxes work instead as a fixed order roulette, which balances items more since they are not designed for specific placements in the race but rather for anyone who rolls them, and ensures that high level play involves a lot of control over which items are in play, therefore more strategy and direct responses to each other

or they could at least start with considering which items actually encourage party play, because if people genuinely think items like the Blooper (makes it difficult to see the screen, which really only affects human players and gives a strong disadvantage to inexperienced players and a very negligible one to experienced players) and the Lightning (turns everyone but the user into smaller versions for some time, in hard difficulty the cpu may use this three times in a single race) are fine as they are, then nothing I could say would mean anything

some kart racers have fixed item boxes results (Cars 2), different item pickup interactions (LEGO Racers), and some have fewer items than MK does but have more types of interactions in the tracks (F1 Race Stars for example), and these encourage different types of strategies in both casual and high level play, there is a lot one could do

but personally I would also try to tweak the driving itself to be more engaging and less painful on the hands because mk8 disappoints a little in comparison to other mk games and other kart games. at least 8 Deluxe has that "auto a press" feature, racing games aren't supposed to hurt your right thumb like that

and little has evolved in the driving since Wii for me, really all its sequels did were to add different environments for your kart to have different physics but they didn't particularly change how driving worked and made it control a little worse. which wasn't the wrong decision to make, even, but I do think the driving itself needs to change together with the items

sometimes when I do my whole "mario kart is not good racing" schtick at people they dismiss it because I must just be salty about losing or whatever but I'm actually pretty good at mk on a casual level it's more so that the game is so built around items that it is agreed upon in higher play that slowing down is optimal and I'm sorry but slowing down to win a race is the most unbelievable nothing strategy imagine max verstappen letting 10 cars pass him because he gets a star on the next corner if he does that you cannot fucking call that racing to me anymore

[atlas-five]

Alice inviting Sam and Celia to the show seems less like trying to fuck w Sam or his relationship (or even flirting w then both) and more like she's fucking lonely. she might have genuinely wanted them there, cuz, y'know, hanging out w people is how you make and keep friends generally. like,,,, before Celia it sounded like Sam and Alice were chillin' at work and had regular banter but since Celia showed up Sam's attention is all on her and hes started treating every interaction with Alice as an annoyance (and just generally being grumpy, if you consider his interaction w Gwen that one time). plus it's not like Gwen has time for Alice to even mess w her anymore. everything is changing and I don't think Alice is taking it well

[teruel-a-witch]

one of the things i love about steve and danny is that their appreciation for each other is so genuine they subvert dismissive/no homo memes

~~~~~

steve: you look pretty tonight

danny: what?

steve: i said you look pretty tonight

danny: aren't you supposed to say i look shitty?

steve: why would i say something so blatantly untrue?

danny: *flustered* it's how you are supposed to do this bit

steve: what bit?

*****

danny: you look hot i wanna kiss you

steve: let me guess, it's that bit where i ask 'what?' and you say 'if you were dead i wouldn't miss you'?

danny: what?? no, wtf, i would miss you very much if you died, i would never joke about that

steve: oh

~~~~~

there's no twist, they just love each other

[fishyfarms]

Obligatory 2024 Art Wrapped :) would post this over on my main but so much of it is Stardew Valley it felt wrong to Not post it here. Thank you to everyone who’s been following along! I’ve met so many people this year and made so many wonderful mutuals and I’m just so unbelievably grateful to be a part of this even if I’m not always the most active. Sending much love to everyone as we go into the new year! 🫶

[courtkossai]

so , so very important to read and to understand . please read story from kala first , and then come back to this short commentary . :)

I am anti-recovery, at least for myself. I think it is important to ask what does recovery look like? [...] I am not a human and I do not wish to be a human and live among them. However what is worse is how the humans would go about fixing that[...]

think this is one of most important things to consider . some people love to throw around that physical nonhumanity is anti-recovery , but why and to what standards ?

some folks will never be able to do some or all of those things , no matter how much one attempt recovery , and this is true for all things which categorise as disability , illness , and disease .

and as kala explain after what kossai quote - these treatments can be horrendous for patient in question . if there is little to no gain in actual quality of life from these attempts , or worse active decline , is that really worth effort , money , time ?

will stand by those who choose medications and therapies as personal correct paths - experiences variable , and some people find trade-off is not nearly as severe , or genuinely preferable . but autonomy to say yes also means autonomy to say no , flat out .

absolutely vital that everyone learn how to truly include and help - to give autonomy , trust , and even just basic kindness . mistakes can happen , poor judgment calls can happen , but this is part of why world should be more open - to ensure bad experiences do not have to be so absolutely terrible , and especially not end in loss of rights .

really appreciate that share experiences and story , and hope things will look up from here . 💚

Delusion, Clinical Zoanthropy

I am a clinical zoanthrope. I have schizophrenia. If you have read my posts or blog before this should be no surprise as I am quite open about it. These labels that have been put on me affect nearly every aspect of my life, and greatly affect how I interact with the community. There is often a lot of discussion surrounding ideas of physical identity, delusion and if these things should be acceptable within the community or how to handle these topics.

Length: 3676 words

TW: delusions, reality checking, mentions of medical abuse

The year before last, I had spent quite a bit of time working with another academic to construct a historical materialist analysis of therianthropy. Historical materialism for people who are not familiar is a method of analysing history through the lens of production and class society. In particular, given the apparent wealth of historical therianthropy among “primitive” society, and the narrow niche of modern therianthropy, as well as my own treatment at the hands of the medical system, I wished to understand the origins of the oppression of therianthropic identity. I have to date not completed the project for a number of reasons - limited available literature regarding the transition from pre-class society to slave society particularly regarding religious and spiritual beliefs, personal health and time, and forcing myself to create a complex system of double bookkeeping and analysing my experiences through a materialist lens essentially constantly and forcibly reality checking myself constantly was very taxing.

Although I did not get to the state to write and publish the paper, I did learn a fair bit, and I think the most important concept within this discussion is the concept of delusion and how we define it. There is a common vulgar definition of delusion as believing anything that is not real or not backed by scientific consensus. But then there are many things people believe which is not backed by scientific consensus. While certainly there are people who would say that anyone who believes in ghosts or the Christian God are delusional, nearly half of the people in my country believe in God, however we lack any materialist evidence at this point for such a thing. The state of being identified by others as delusional comes with some pretty serious consequences, it should be noted though that these consequences are not applied to people who believe in God. Similarly, there are times when scientific consensus is simply wrong. Is the man who rejects the inherent inferiority of the [Sub-saharan Afrikan] race because of their skull shape and “thick skin” delusional? We today would collectively say no. For a man in the early 19th century, this would have been scientific consensus even if now we should find such a thought abhorrent. Was he then delusional? (Though some people did try to justify slaves escaping as a mental health condition Drapetomania, and historical terms like madness are often connected to modern terms like delusion and psychosis). I think often modern humans can create an almost religion out of science and progress and belief in their own rationalism - that not only is there absolute objective truth, but they can and do know it all in this particular moment, and that the society they exist within does not effect an impact on their view.

It is important to understand that delusion has a fairly specific definition and caveat when talking in a medical definition. That important caveat is that the belief conflicts, or is not standard, within their culture or subculture. Not only that, the belief must be very fixed and firmly set which does not respond/change to the presence of outside evidence. This cultural context is an important factor in the diagnostic criteria for delusions, as well as dissociative disorders like OSDD and DID (it may well be important for other conditions diagnostic criteria as well though I lack experience to speak on that topic).

Delusions -are- very much socially defined. I make the joke often that a rich man hears the voice of God he runs for office, I hear the voice of a spirit and need to be on antipsychotics. There are a number of examples namely in SEA where the experience of transforming into another animal would be considered entirely within the range of normal possibility (though notably with tigers primarily). There are also cultures and practices in which physical transformation is not considered delusion but a normal part of ritual notably among the Xan peoples. Among some Siberian cultures as part of hunting some will take essentially the mind of a wolf. In South Asia there are also recorded practices in which a person’s soul is bonded to and moved to an animal’s body in the night. Most people those reading this might encounter day to day would think these are surely delusions, but for those people, it is just a normal part of life and culture.

Most people here would collectively agree that therianthropy is not a delusion, however from outside the community many easily could argue it. You -are- human, you can look at your body and it and see that it -is- human. If you argue for past lives, there exists no evidence supporting that and no evidence supporting the existence of spirit or plausible explanation beyond hallucination despite many attempts to measure their existence. Nor do you have the instincts of that animal because you are clearly a human, and any "instincts" you might have are phantoms of the mind or attaching to a certain animal as a way to manage your life. However neither of these explanations would be acceptable nor would they convince you that you are wholly and entirely human.

Similarly with transgender identity, people here would collectively agree that is not a delusion. But 60 years ago? Or among transphobes? You are experiencing a delusion. You are obviously a wo/man, and no amount of hormones, [presentation], or [surgery] will change that. We would all collectively say fuck that shit, but you know who agrees under certain circumstances? WPATH in their Standards of Care directly notes among certain conditions of transgender identity as delusion (or at least in their old SOC before informed consent became common). It is common for people with schizo-spectrum disorders and higher level structural dissociative disorders to be denied care, or to face significant pushback. But this can also be true for all sorts of other “less serious” conditions such as austime, adhd, depression etc. This is something I have faced, and who knows how many others have faced it as well.

But what a delusion is very much defined by perspective and culture. It is easy when sitting on the "non-delusional" side of a cultural belief, to believe the order of things is logical. However, when I must construct materialist explanations of experiences, a task for which I am forced as part of double bookkeeping, the differences between my "delusional" experiences, and others "nondelusional" experiences especially in regards to therianthropy is one of degree, not of kind. Do not make the mistake to think that in other scenarios, other cultures, your experiences may be seen as delusions, and in other places, mine as natural and grounded in reality.

My experience as a clinical zoanthrope has left me often feeling quite divorced from the community, that I am separate, unwelcome, or an interloper in what is supposed to be my own community. I have been in the community for a while, but only at certain points felt comfortable to really call myself therian, a feeling which is again waning. There is a strong push constantly against physical identity. Even the most (in)famous phrase in wider culture about therians is the “on all levels except physical I am a wolf”. However this pushback against physical identities, especially from the concerns over P-shifter cults and abuses, created an environment that for me to be tolerated, I would have to constantly “show insight” or really reality check myself, and ensure all the others there knew that I knew my experience was not real and was not like their experiences were (that theirs were real and different). I still often have to do the dance describing my experiences, and even in the terms I use for myself as a clinical zoanthrope is indirectly that same dance.

The therian community often prides itself on how accepting it is. Though to be honest, I really have to question if this is the case. I have always felt unwelcome by the broader community. But so have very many others. It always strikes me that whenever I really share my experiences, how many others really relate to that feeling of not feeling wholly secure or belonging within the community. My orca friend, Ike, has talked quite a lot how they simply did not join the community for so long for feeling unwelcome. Sharing my experiences on a discord server a few weeks ago I learned another member was also a zoanthrope but had never shared it for fear of ostracization. A number of others expressed sentiments of feeling not total included, some for shift strengths, some for things like sexuality, theriomythics often get excluded, etc. Heck, by some accounts even the transition to the term Therian away from Were was an effort to include more people besides just shapeshifters.

Really when you think about it, it is not surprising so many people feel excluded in various ways. Therians have all these lines that you have to sit inside of and not cross to be acceptable to the community. But when you try to actually measure those lines many are not only extremely blurry, but vary person to person. Indeed my own experience is that there are people that do accept me, even if the wider community does not, and that is really the only reason I stayed.

The community has historically for instance a pretty hard stance on delusion and hallucination. The question though is, when does a shift move from being a socially acceptable phantom shift, to an unacceptable hallucination. For me in particular, my sensation of shift goes through a fairly long process of getting more and more intense, but it is also really a quite smooth process. It is like following a colour line, when does ‘blue’ truly begin? The first sensation is often a slight tickling, and very light phantom touch that you can sort of see through the feeling on your body. Beyond that the sensation gets more intense and becomes bothered from having things push against or intersect it. Further it begins to have not only form but colour and texture, but still if I look at the limb I cannot see it, I still see a human limb, though I do not expect it. Further the visual appearance comes in more and more until eventually my human parts are gone, transformed into animal parts I can see and I can touch. When we write it out like this it is pretty separately defined, but in the process this occurs for me, it is very smooth.

After enough quantitative change, there is a qualitative change, but where and when that occurs is hard to say. I think the first two experiences are very common among therians. I think the third experience is also fairly common but that starts to get more and more into the blurry lines, and if you cannot see where that line is you are likely to downplay your own experiences for fear if you say too much, you will be excised or ostracised from the community. But this fear also has the doubly cruel aspect that you can never really know where that line is because many people downplay their experiences to make them palatable, and so though many others might share in these experiences, people simply do not speak of them because they only see either extreme being shared, the particularly minor shifts being accepted, or the extreme shifts being sorted into delusions. I think it creates a false binary from a spectrum of experiences.

So many of these blurry lines exist though. What age can you be taken seriously? What platform do you use? How many kintypes is too many? Theriotypes being too common? Theriotypes being too rare? Are paleotherians acceptable? Are theriomythics acceptable? Can a dragon be a therian? Can an otherlinker or copinglinker have their identity so long it becomes therian? Are beastly animals from fictional settings acceptable or should they be with fictionkind? What sort of sexual and romantic expression is allowable? Is transspecies an acceptable identity? Some of these are blurry, some of them are clear, but they all wiggle around in different ways of some people will find them acceptable and some not. This leads to people self-censoring to the safe answers that they know are acceptable and prevents them really exploring their own identities, but also these questions within the community as it learns and grows and becomes more inclusive. In a certain irony, therianthropes as a community, are actually quite demanding in their conformity while preaching of their acceptance.

There has been a significant push in recent years to give greater levels of inclusion to therians with both delusional identities and physical identities. People are generally more accepting of zoanthropes and at points I have felt comfortable even to call myself therian and not just a member of the community. But there are also a number of additional terms, namely endel and holothere, which cover these experiences. However, something I note often when people talk why I as a clinical zoanthrope can be acceptable, while P-shifters and at times holotheres cannot, still comes down to that I acknowledge my experience as delusion. When I read the experiences of at least some p-shifters and holotheres, often the difference really is not so great, I often see their experiences mimicking or mirroring my own. I do use the word clinical zoanthropy, which on some level does indicate an understanding I know that at least others see my experiences as not real. This is a pretty common feeling among zoanthropes, we use this word, we know the humans think our experiences are not real, but they are incredibly real to us.

The question then is what should be done with us? There is a lot of comment that allowing us in the community to share our experiences or not reality checking people is encouraging delusion. People also say that delusions are harmful and that we should seek medical help. There are quite a few people who even wish to excise or isolate those who are anti-psychiatry and anti-recovery from the community.

If I am forced to analyse my experiences through a materialist and distant lens, it is quite clear my experiences are heavily rooted in delusion. I am a scientist, and there is no means under current knowledge to explain what I experience except hallucination - still I believe it fully. My knowing this is the only logical explanation does not lead me to believe it, to truly believe it inside. I mentioned before I had to give up on projects I did really enjoy because forcing myself to continuously deny my experiences and continuously reality check myself, brought to me very much distress. There are times I have wanted to be reality checked, but for vast part that is the remainder it is really distressing. It is distressing to be told a core part of your identity is not real, to be told the you that exists isn’t the real you, and sometimes see people mourning the “sane you”. Individuals in the community are not going to solve my “delusion” by reality checking myself or others.

Nor will them blocking me from the community or ensuring I do the dance for them encourage my “delusions” away. Delusions are heavily fixed experiences, and though you can encourage them in certain ways (think the example of people making “in your walls” jokes at schizophrenics), us talking about and sharing our experiences with each other and in our own community helps us feel understood and a sense of belonging. There are so few of us to start with, and the community closest to us either often disallows us, or makes us sit at the edge never really able to join. All banning us does is further isolate us, and for many delusions reinforces that we will never be acceptable or tolerable to others and it is best we are alone so we don’t hurt others with our presence.

I cannot speak on every person’s delusions, but I can speak on my own. For the question of if delusions are harmful, I think it often asks the wrong question. Who is it harmful to? Under what framework? Who thinks it is harmful? What does the patient want? I think one could say that my delusions of turning into a whale do harm me. I have trouble to interact with humans, I cannot work a full time job, I struggle in relationships, many nights I lay on the couch stuck for hours simply unable to move. These are all pretty negative things no? But it fails to ask why are these things harmful? A doctor looks through a very human framework and sees that I cannot do the human things and sees that I must have a poor quality of life and these delusions need to be addressed. But I am a whale and it is a core part of me, these things can be distressing, but whales cannot interact with humans the same way two humans would, work a full time job, have relationships with humans, and if you stuck them on a couch they would also not be able to move. This all is distressing and perhaps harmful, but then what other option is there? What the humans offer to me as solution is far worse.

I am anti-recovery, at least for myself. I think it is important to ask what does recovery look like? For me recovery would be to return to the water where I belong. But the humans would certainly say otherwise. For them recovery would look like fitting into and functioning within human society - having a job, a house, a car, a husband, kids, going on holiday, etc. I am not a human and I do not wish to be a human and live among them. However what is worse is how the humans would go about fixing that. I have been locked in hospitals, I have been strapped down, I have been sedated, I have been put on horrible meds that destroyed things I cared about and have often left me a shell of a person (there is a reason they were marketed as a chemical lobotomy). Some things I have gotten better in over time, and I can hold a job for the moment, even quite technical and difficult jobs.

However, the damage done to me from the humans was severe. Although I can talk about being a whale as delusion, the why is really far more impactful and distressing in my life. I was taken from the water, turned human, and am a useful thing for the humans. This understanding of myself as merely a tool and something the humans can do whatever they want with me is the real distressing aspect of my life. For me, the ‘help’ I received at the hospital only strengthened and set this delusion in so much firmer. I can look back at certain experiences, I can see the humans don’t have the technology to do what they did to me, but then I also have those years in the hospital, those years where everything was very apparent and clear and something that others can confirm and it seems to only further make plausible the experiences of the past, and those in the present the fear for what the humans will do to me. I know that I am deteriorating, I am struggling more and more, but nothing the humans offer me will make things better, they will only hurt me more, and if I ask for help, and reject it, they will only see it as proof I need the help more and force it onto me, which will only further reinforce that delusion.

If someone wishes to see a doctor and talk about therian things, I do often warn them of caution for what happened to myself and I do not want others hurt that way. I also urge them to think about what they want as the outcome from that discussion or what they hope will happen. A lot of mentally ill people have been hurt by doctors who thought they knew best, and once something is said, it cannot be undone. However, in the end they are free to decide what they will, and are free to navigate the medical system if they think it will benefit them.

For myself, I struggle to believe that doctors would really help me and instead work to help myself and my cetacean friends so that maybe someday we could swim again and swim forever. That we can fix ourselves and heal. That in time the deep scars across our bodies might start to fade and look like the scars of other captive cetaceans. That instead of surviving merely trying to please the humans to not be hurt, that we might actually -live- and have the life we were denied.

We are still people with agency, agency to choose our own path, to choose what brings us joy, to decide what we want from life, and from our healthcare. Or at least we should be granted that agency. We should not be excluded from the community or forced to dance around our experiences as not real for the comfort of others who happen to lie on the other side of the sane-delusional line, afterall the positioning of that line is very arbitrary and could easily swing to find yourself on my side of that line.

~ Kala

[flowerbloom-arts]

Hi, question, and if you can pardon my french; What the FUCK was this bit doing here in Flaming Moe (s22 ep11)?????

Like. Like I don't get it??? I love it to smithereens but I can't. Like. Understand. Why Seymour did this? To Chalmers? And pulled his tie and called him Gary while clearly flirting? At school? And then Chalmers calls him a Casanova? In an episode where he's dating the new female music teacher??????

I feel like I just saw a flash of Cthulu and I'm trying to comprehend him by drawing what I saw but it doesn't goddamn work so I keep rewatching the clip over and over and I'm trying to wrap my head around this sudden homoeroticism when the A plot of this episode is about gay people but the B plot with Seymour is? Very straight?

I dunno I'm just rambling. I can't get enough of these two. The original screenshot is under the cut.

[pa-pa-plasma]

i don't think i'll ever get over how people treat kids that aren't good in school as worthless no matter what. "oh it can't be that bad" my guy idk how to tell you this but the last time i went to a normal high school the principal called me into his office to brag about how he failed me in all of my classes before the semester was even finished & i should quit while i'm ahead cuz i'm too stupid ("officially" diagnosed as such by a school counselor & a psychiatrist!!) to succeed. & this is considered normal

[peacockrulz]

dont say sorry we love the paragraphs!! tbh i cant stand a lot of md fanfics because of how they characterize uzi in particular, they just do not do her depth justice. and you're so right about the narration too. its so subtle but a lot of great fics go above and beyond to take narration from just describing the world to actually representing a characters perspective- literally and figuratively. hostile takeover is a masterclass in it tbh. its actually inspired me to try and get into writing for md because you need to be the content you want to see in the world ig- im starting with rp rn though because i find that to be the easiest way to get into a characters head, ya know? also your dollxn piece made me physically ill (positive). im shipping them now but exclusively in the way your fanart is framing it (also great song choice listening to it and staring at the art really sent me) - juzi anon

I think a good narration is like, an unspoken art when it comes to writing. I LOVE fics that make a point to have the characters thoughts be a part of the narration; It speaks volumes to how that person write the character themself and can even make for some really impactful dialog thats not even spoken. I think the biggest strength of Hostile Takeover (from the chapters I've read!) is its ability to make a character's narration show the subtle, unseen things about the characters themselves. (Which is why I love J's chapters so much, J puts up such a large persona that being able to read the thoughts she actually has is so!!! arugh!!!!!)

Also: I'm glad to see you taking an inspiration for writing, I've honestly thought many a time to force myself into writing fics just because theres so many ideas I have that I do not have the time or skill to illustrate lol. I actually started posting artwork because I wanted to see more fanart for my own rarepair!!! And I can understand the whole roleplaying thing (I haven't roleplayed canon characters since my.. *shudders* MMO days /j) I grew up on roleplaying and still do on occasion! (OCs I mean haha) I think its a great stepping stone to writing full blown chapters and stuff, all about practice or whatever!!

oh and: I'm glad you liked that piece lmao. N x Doll is one of those ships I thought about for 2 seconds and went "wait no I get it.". I've honestly thought about making more art of it just because its left such a impact on my skull. (ITs... the only enemies to lovers you could HAVE with N canonically w/o messing w/ his character and i am OBSESSED)

[missdarhk]

CHOO CHOO YAP TRAIN IS BACK ON TRACK

(this was very odysseus/jorge of you 💀💀 hope the rest of the travel went well!)

omg yes. like. the kids will suffer so much in school bc wtf are these names. I also saw that not even the parents know how to pronounce some of their names. like??? how do you do this with YOUR CHILDREN. it's like they forgot this isn't bitlife or the sims and you can't just type whatever and call it a day 😭

gooberthena is the best JHAJJAAKJAAKS SHE REALLY DOES DESERVE TO SHOOT ZEUS. she is very silly and I love all her variations JSHAKAJAK

istg this fandom will not let me know peace. 😭 why must athena suffer so much stop she's just a little owl. HOW CAN YOU HURT THE OWL SO MUCH AND SLEEP WELL AT NIGHT

ZEUS SAYING HES A GREAT FATHER. 💀 MF??? NO YOURE NOT??

TELL HIM, HERA. YOU TELL HIM. hera is so mother I would die for her

AHHHJ NO!! my plan was discovered just as I was about to get some crunchy spoilers 😔😔 *sadly kicks rocks* warrior of the mind fail

NO STOP ODY THINKING SHE DOESNT CARE ABOUT THEM 😭😭😭😭 and what if I??? eat a bunch of glass??? telemachus being the only somewhat sane one. he's my son

hellooo

(to be clear im the one commenter talking about ares and ody pranking poseidon in ur au)

wanted to re-emphasize how good ur fic is, also wanted to interact w more people obsessed with epic bc epic is like half my life atm (the hyperfixation is real...)

anyways re ur post about english, that's honestly so valid, and im a native english speaker

in 9th grade we had to do an entire unit on how to use an apostrophe. in an english-speaking school in an english-speaking country. in a class of native english speakers.

english is such a silly (/neg) language tbh i've seen native speakers with absolutely atrocious grammar and spelling

anyways enjoy these two of my favorite images demonstrating why english is so absurd...

and there was going to be this other image but i was rereading it and noticed that there was this one sentence that was actually really offensive so im going to type out the ones that arent lol

The bandage was wound around the wound.

The farm was used to produce produce.

The dump was so full it had to refuse more refuse.

We must polish the Polish furniture.

He could lead if he would get the lead out.

The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert.

Since there is no time like the present, he thought it was time to present the present.

A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.

When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.

I did not object to the object.

There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.

They were too close to the door to close it.

And finally, read and lead rhyme, and so do read and led. But read and lead don't rhyme, and neither do read and read.

(For bonus pronunciation shenanigans, look up The Chaos by G. Nolst Trenite. For bonus definition shenanigans, look up contronyms. Dust means to remove the dust from and to sprinkle with a powder or dust.)

hi!!! (big fan of the pranking idea)

thank you, you're so sweet! and I GET IT. epic has consumed all of my thoughts, it's in everything I see now. I CANT WAIT for the Ithaca saga but also am I ready? I don't know. I'm ready. but ready for it to be over? 😭😭 very exciting though

BOO ENGLISH. INTERNET SLANGS ARE COOLER. so many little things trip me over. I never know when to use "in" or "on". the other day I was wondering why you say "laun dree" instead of "laun dry". it's always the most random stuff lmao, that image is so true all the struggles are real

mila.exehasstoppedworking you kind of broke my brain in the last ones. I only had a singular braincell left 😭😭😭

[izzy-b-hands]

I will be forever grateful i can be on this new med. it's one a lot of folks also need and can struggle to have access to! It's important i be on it, especially if i start doing any vid collabs

(some of which, really, all of which, i unfortunately actually need to cancel that were in the preplanning stages, bc the election results have me wanting to wait and see how the general atmosphere of the country is before i agree to meet up with anyone. I feel bad for cancelling, but also i just can't know for sure how safe things are/might be going forward and I'd rather avoid the potential of. ya know. various not great things that could happen at a meet up, tho i would certainly hope they wouldn't. i don't feel like actually addressing them rn, u guys know what i mean)

That said, if the truvada initial side effects could fuck off asap would be so lovely. three weeks at worst, then they should be gone/much better or so i am told. really hope that's true bc losing my mornings to being dizzy and nauseous is Not Working for me lmao. im on week two, and now understand why my new doc said to call if i needed any 'cheerleading' and support to get thru the side effects, bc apparently she's done that for several ppl to make sure they actually make it thru the three weeks and keep on it (lovely of her!!)

[jouno-s]

how life feels when people aren’t policing you on the ‘correct’ way to consume your favourite media

[threadmonster]

My mom pausing and correcting my nephew that I'm a "good Aunt Do" instead of saying "good girl" is probably the most gender affirming moments along with a person not knowing to call me sir or ma'am.

My nephew is 2.5 and called me a good boy for getting him chocolate milk and my mom is a [redacted] year old lady so she was gonna correct him and then realized what she was gonna say and stopped herself because she knows I don't like being called a girl. My mom really did that.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Blood of the Hero Ch 9 (Link's parents play BotW)

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

i.e. Link's parents play BotW while protecting their boy and they are ready to take on Ganon himself if they have to.

(AO3 link)

First

<<Previous // Next>>

To Kakariko - Dueling Peaks

It was the prickling on his neck that woke him. It was an unsettling feeling, like he was being watched. He’d felt it a few times when a monster would try to jump him or his men during a journey.

Abel opened his eyes, instantly on edge and confused. He was home; why did he feel like he was being—

Oh.

A little set of beady eyes was staring at him silently from the stairway, peeking around the edge of the banister.

“Link…?” Abel whispered a little hoarsely. “What’s wrong?”

His son watched him mutely, biting his lip. He looked afraid.

Concerned, Abel slowly slid out of the bed, careful not to disturb Tilieth. “What’s the matter, son?”

The toddler looked at his feet, sniffling. When he still didn’t speak, Abel sighed, sitting on the stairs and pulling the little one onto his lap. Link was a bit of a mystery sometimes, though he wasn’t sure if that was because the child was really that bizarre or because he himself knew so little of children anyway. This was his first, after all. But either way… Link was a pendulum swinging rapidly between a noisy, boisterous, and reckless three-year-old and a stifled, quiet, and timid one. To some degree Abel saw his own more silent demeanor and Til’s exuberance for life fighting for dominance in the child, and he felt a little guilty for it.

But when Abel was scared, he would grow agitated and aggressive. He would fight his fear. This little one seemed overwhelmed by it… and he didn’t know how to address that.

Giving his boy a kiss on the head, he said, “Tell me what’s wrong, Link.”

“Bad dream,” Link finally admitted into his father’s chest, his little hands clinging to Abel’s tunic.

“Oh?” Abel prompted, rubbing the little one’s back reassuringly. “What was it about?”

Link shifted a little on his lap, and suddenly Abel felt the boy’s weight change, increasing rapidly. Caught off guard, he glanced down and saw Link, bloodied and broken and burnt, one eye swollen shut, the other bloodshot from exhaustion and exertion, a small chunk of flesh torn off his neck as it oozed blood from the one spot that hadn’t been cauterized by an energy beam. Abel jumped, nearly dropping his boy, horrified at the sight.

“You didn’t get to me in time,” Link said accusingly. “And I died because of it.”

Abel gasped as he awoke, scrambling for reality, heart in his throat. He whipped his head to the right and his eyes immediately fell on his teenage son, oblivious to the world around him. Neither eye was swollen any longer, though Abel had only glanced at their cerulean hue for a few minutes in the past ten years. Had they been bloodshot when they’d opened yesterday? His neck bore the traces of a burn, reddened and somewhat swollen but at least fully intact.

The former knight sighed and dropped his head to the ground, closing his eyes as he collected himself.

Slowly, after a few calming breaths, Abel opened his eyes and sat up, pulling Link up with him. Tilieth was still fast asleep on Link’s other side, bundled under the blankets they’d packed, her brow slightly furrowed in discomfort as the family slept on the floor of the shrine. 

With Link settled on his lap, held loosely in place by his left arm, Abel sifted through their bags to find some water. Stew would be best as it could provide some nutrition for the teenager as well, but nothing was prepared and Abel’s growing anxiety would not wait for breakfast. Grabbing a flask of water, he shook Link slightly, whispering softly to him. In previous shrines, getting a spirit orb had shown some sign of improvement in Link, but Abel couldn’t discern any notable changes in his son since they’d completed this shrine, and it was making him grow worried.

Despite multiple prompts and his voice growing ever louder, Abel was unable to make Link even stir. Tilieth eventually awoke with his attempts, sitting up and throwing an uneasy look in his direction.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“He won’t wake up,” Abel answered pitifully, as if this hadn’t been an issue before. Being able to get some water into the boy yesterday had given him hope for their journey, but now he couldn’t get Link to react, even briefly. Had it just been a fluke?

Abel shook his head. There was no way Link was getting worse, was there?

This was foolish and he knew it, wasn’t it? Link hadn’t even flinched throughout all their jostling yesterday. Maybe the boy just needed more sleep. He’d barely awoken for them yesterday, but… Abel had hoped it meant he was improving quickly.

Of course he’d been wrong.

Tilieth reached out, her hand settling on Link’s forehead, and Abel shook his head. “I’m sorry. It… maybe we’ll be able to give him some water later in the day.”

“There’s a river outside the shrine,” Til suggested as she stretched. “Maybe a cool bath will wake him up a little.”

Abel supposed that was possible. Til made a simple breakfast for the pair, and Abel went outside first to clear any monsters before bringing Link to the water. There was a small group of bokoblins just down the hill by the shore, and he dealt with them swiftly. With so many beasts around, though, he was beginning to consider wearing his old knight armor; he hadn’t been keen on doing so due to its cumbersome nature while carrying Link and had been wearing a warm doublet and trousers instead.

Sighing, Abel was temporarily distracted at the sight of a chest that the bokoblins had been apparently guarding. Opening it, he felt his stomach churn at the sight of what was inside.

A soldier’s bow.

Abel suddenly felt enraged. These monsters were pillaging the bodies of the fallen, combing through their homes and stealing their weapons to further Ganon’s chaotic agenda?! The very thought of such a desecration happening all over Hyrule nearly made him sick to his stomach.

He turned to further maim or burn the bodies of the creatures he’d slain only to find them disintegrating into dust and smoke, as all fell beasts did when Ganon had no more use for them.

Abel spat into the ground, marching back over to the shrine. After telling Til that the coast was clear, he kept watch while she cleaned herself and Link, using the bow he’d just acquired to pick off a stray bokoblin in the distance. As his eyes trailed the shoreline on the other side of the river, his gaze settled on two guardians sitting seemingly innocently on the ground, and he felt his breath catch at the sight of them.

If they’d been active he’d have known by now. They would have fired when he’d first attacked the pack of bokoblins. It didn't make him feel any less uneasy, though.

“I’m surprised Proxim Bridge held up as well as it did, considering how many guardians were crossing it back then.” Tilieth remarked from beneath the bridge. Then he heard her gasp slightly, and he slid on the slick rocks to get to her. Before he could ask what was wrong, she pointed to the water flowing on the other side of the bridge. “There’s a chest in the water, look!”

Abel sighed in exasperation. “Til, the amount of debris around here shouldn’t be a surprise to you.”

“It’s intact,” Tilieth noted. “Let me see if there’s something useful inside.”

Abel spluttered in protest as his wife swam over into plain view, unable to stop her as she gently pushed Link towards him. His son was unphased, floating peacefully in the cool, clear water as his father held him afloat.

Tilieth reached the floating wooden chest, struggling a little to open it while swimming in the water. When she’d tried and failed three times, Abel called out to her. “Til, for the love of Hylia, get back over here! I can’t protect you from there!”

His wife was clearly growing frustrated with her lack of progress and swam to the rocky shore, climbing up and walking back towards their supplies underneath the bridge. Abel lost sight of her for a moment and then heard her scream.

Every nerve in his body fired in response, and he hastily tucked Link under the bridge and grabbed the bow and an arrow, knowing he probably couldn’t get within arm’s reach in time. When he leapt over the rocky wall of the bridge, he loosed an arrow at a brown figure near his wife and then felt a yell of shock and horror tear out of his throat immediately after.

The Hylian turned in time to see the arrow slam into his shoulder, and he hit the ground with a cry of pain.

Oh shit, Abel’s mind screamed. Shit, that’s a Hylian, an actual Hylian!

Tilieth slid under the bridge to hide, both horrified at being caught in such a state of undress and at what had just happened. Abel found himself at a loss for words.

It hadn’t occurred to either of them that they’d run into living, breathing people before they got to Kakariko.

“Zomi!” another voice cried, and Abel turned sharply to his left, seeing someone running towards him across the bridge, blade already raised.

Abel felt his mind numb as he nocked another arrow, and then Til was in view again, a green tunic covering her to her mid thighs. She waved frantically in the air. “Stop, wait!! My husband was just trying to protect me, we didn’t mean any harm!”

The Hylian on the ground grunted. “Feels pretty harmful to me.”

“You’re one of those thieves, aren’t you?!” the foreign woman yelled accusingly, raising her sword to point at Abel. “You think you can just attack anyone who is trying to travel?! Get away from my brother!”

“We’re not thieves,” Til replied, a little bemused at the branding. “We’re just…”

His wife trailed off, glancing at Abel uncertainly. Abel supplied, “We’re travelers.”

Finally, the former knight lowered his weapon, though he was still too addled to get near the injured Hylian. The woman grew hesitant with his action, uncertain of his intention. With the pause that it created, Abel managed to catch his breath and knelt beside the man. “I’m… sorry. My wife yelled and I—”

“Reacted,” Zomi grunted as he shifted uncomfortably. “Good thing you caught yourself in midshot, eh? Though I—Hylia above, this hurts… I’d really like to get this out.”

Abel bit his lip. He hadn’t changed the trajectory of his aim at all. He didn’t have the heart to tell the man the only reason he was alive was because archery was not Abel’s strength.

He couldn’t even fathom the fact that the only reason he hadn’t just murdered a man was because his aim was off.

“We can’t pull it out, you’ll bleed more,” Tilieth protested as the Hylian woman rushed over to the injured man.

“We have something for that,” the woman said dismissively as she reached for the arrow. Her brother hissed in pain as she braced, her brow furrowed in worry.

Abel put a hand on her shoulder. “Let me pull it out. It’ll be faster.”

“You’ve already hurt him enough!” she snapped.

“Hisal, please,” her brother pleaded, his voice shaking. “Let him do it.”

Hisal frowned, clearly not wanting to listen, but she backed off nonetheless, reaching into her large travel pack. Abel took a deep breath, putting one hand on Zomi’s shoulder and the other on the arrow. Then he pulled hard, leaving the stranger screaming as Tilieth looked away, slipping under the bridge to check on Link.

The sister shoved a bottle in her brother’s face, and he drank quickly, coughing a little on it as he groaned in pain. Once he was finished downing the contents of whatever concoction he was given, he laid on the ground, panting for air and sweaty, but… not bleeding. Abel glanced at the wound and saw that it was little more than a divot in his skin.

Abel looked at Hisal, amazed. “How did you do that?”

“Fairy,” she explained.

Abel grew confused. “Fairy? Those are exceedingly rare. And I didn’t see a fairy in that bottle.”

“If you cook them, they have healing properties.”

Abel’s mouth snapped shut. Somehow that seemed… wrong to cook such creatures. Weren’t they supposed to be gifts from the goddesses?

He didn’t comment. It wasn’t as if the goddesses had spared much after the calamity. People had to make do.

Maybe they could find some fairies too.

Tilieth appeared once more, wearing trousers and throwing her light blonde curly hair into a messy bun as she almost always did. “What are you two even doing here?”

“We were trying to make the pathway safer for travelers,” Hisal said as she helped her brother sit up. “People are slowly starting to try to venture out of their homes again. If we could make contact with others then maybe we can help each other out. But there are plenty whose homes were destroyed during the calamity and have been living out in the wilds. Some make do, but a lot try to jump people for supplies. It’s dangerous to travel anywhere right now.”

“So you’re… clearing the path?” Abel tried to surmise, growing tense. Had this Zomi person been about to attack Til, then?

Zomi rotated his arm a little, testing it as he grimaced slightly. “We’re building a shelter on the other side of the bridge. A place of refuge for weary travelers. I saw someone under the bridge and went to investigate. I’m… sorry for the scare.”

Abel’s tension drained out of him, and he slowly rose. “I believe I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

“Where are you two from?” Tilieth asked, prolonging the conversation (unnecessarily, his mind added).

“Palmorae Village,” Zomi answered after a moment, sighing. “What’s left of it.”

There was a heavy silence in the air after that. Abel glanced around uneasily, wanting to check on Link though he knew Til had just done so. Clearing his throat, he said, “Well, you stumbled onto my wife as she was finishing up a bath, but I’m afraid I still have to clean up, so perhaps you two can get back to whatever you were building and we’ll leave each other in peace.”

His words fell on deaf ears, though, as the siblings stared off towards the shrine.

“Wasn’t it glowing orange yesterday?” Hisal wondered softly. 

Zomi shook his head, glancing at Abel. “Sorry, we just… these things have popped up everywhere. People are taking it all kinds of ways. Have you seen the towers? They’re enormous and they came out of nowhere, and it’s got people freaked out. Like… some are saying it’s for the guardians.”

Abel nearly laughed, but he bit his tongue instead. As entertaining as others’ interpretation of the situation was, he and Til still had a mission to accomplish, and these two were stalling them. 

Tilieth, on the other hand, was eager to speak. “Oh? Well, I don’t think it’s anything quite that foreboding. It could be a good sign.”

“That’s what I said,” Hisal muttered, nudging Zomi. 

Abel was finally at the end of his patience and turned to go under the bridge. “Either way, be safe. I’m sorry about earlier.”

The apology felt significantly less sincere than it really had any right to be, but he hadn’t spoken to anyone aside from his wife (and recently a dead man) in the last ten years and had enough adrenaline in his system to make him want to scream. He had little idea or tolerance for such an interaction.

Zomi noticed the finality in his tone and huffed a small, sheepish laugh, patting his sister on the shoulder. “Yes, I suppose we should get back to what we were doing. I… good luck to you two.”

With that, the siblings uneasily made their way across the bridge, dipping around the other end and climbing down an embankment. Abel immediately let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and rushed under the bridge to check on Link.

“You almost killed him,” Til said shakily as she followed him. “I–goddess, what if–I didn’t even think about—”

“I noticed,” Abel said flatly before adding with a sigh, “I didn’t think about it either.”

His train of thought derailed when he got to Link and saw the boy grimacing and shivering. Abel hastened his steps and knelt beside his son, quickly wrapping him in a larger cloak to dry him off. Til noticed his furrowed brow and immediately grabbed a water flask as Abel tried to coax him awake.

“Link,” he whispered, giving his son a little shake. “Open your eyes.”

Hylia, please, Abel prayed as he brushed damp locks of hair out of his boy’s face. “Wake up.”

Link looked like he truly was trying, but his furrowed brow started to relax, the crinkles around his eyes smoothed out, and he started to grow limp in his father’s hold. Tilieth let out a panicked little cry as Abel shook him again, but neither parent could rouse their child.

Abel sighed heavily. “Let’s just get him dressed and get going.”

Breakfast was simple and somber, and the couple was on their way soon enough. A quick scan from Abel ensured that the siblings they’d encountered were nowhere in sight as they crossed the bridge, though building materials were stacked to the side. As an afterthought, Til grabbed the slate and made an ice pillar to finally reach the treasure chest she’d been investigating, and she pulled a purple rupee from it.

“All of that for a purple rupee,” Abel sighed. At least it was more useful than amber.

Honestly, the more he thought about it the more he realized that if there truly were so many survivors, they had a fairly significant problem.

They were broke.

The thought was only a brief concern. They’d survived off the land long enough, he supposed. They didn’t need to buy from anyone. He looked distractedly to his left as Til returned, feeling his son’s legs sway by his sides, and saw the wrecked remains of a distant stable.

He wondered just how many people had actually ventured outside of their home towns and villages. He wondered how many towns and villages were even left.

Focus, he told himself, shaking his head. He hadn’t had these thoughts since the early years.

As the pair made their way on the path, the dueling peaks loomed steadily closer. Abel remembered when it used to be a comforting sight on his journeys home, when he was allowed time off duty. Except… there was something distinctly different.

There was a tower beside them!

“Didn’t you say the tower on the plateau let you map out the area on the slate?” Tilieth noted.

“I did,” Abel answered slowly, wondering if it was worth the climb. He knew this area like the back of his hand, after all.

Then again, the tower could have more to offer the slate. If nothing else, it would give him a good view to survey the region. It had been a decade - things changed.

“I‘ll climb it,” his wife said, catching him off guard. At his surprised expression, she added, “You're carrying Link. I don’t want you to get tired.”

“Til, that’s a hell of a climb.”

“I’ve got it,” she insisted, waving the slate. “Let’s get closer.”

A small monster encampment was just north of them, and it didn’t take much for Abel to eliminate it. The treasure they guarded was an opal, to Abel’s relief and Tilieth’s delight. His wife started to pick through the trail as well, finding herbs and berries and nuts and even snails on the shoreline at one point.

“Is that really necessary?” He asked as she stuffed a freshly caught butterfly into her pouch.

“It could come in handy,” she said lightly with a cheery smile.

The highlight of her strange fascinations was when she shoved a rock into a curiously formed hole and then smiled at the air above it, holding out her hand.

Abel stared at her in bemusement. “What are you doing?”

Til’s smile faltered a little as she looked at him, and then her eyes dulled a little with sadness before she shrugged and returned to the path ahead. “I’ll explain later.”

The tower itself was adjacent to a monster camp that rivaled the large one by the River of the Dead. Abel had practically gone to war with the beasts there a few times, keeping their numbers fairly low. Here, there were…

Wait a minute. Were those people?

Abel froze, and Tilieth nearly ran into him with a yelp. Then she tensed as she recognized them too.

“Is… why does that look like a monster camp?” she asked quietly, her voice tight.

“I think they took over it.”

“So… that’s a good thing, right?” Tilieth asked, and a part of Abel despised that it even had to be a question. Given their last interaction, it was possible, but…

But Abel wasn’t a trusting man. Not anymore.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “Best to assume it isn’t. That man spoke of dangerous people on the road.”

“But… they would have passed them, wouldn’t they?”

That was a fair point. It didn’t make Abel feel any better, though. He didn’t want them to see Link.

“Let’s backtrack,” Abel said. “We—”

“Wait,” Til interrupted, staring at the shore. “Maybe there’s an alternative.”

Abel watched his wife tiptoe towards the shoreline, staring at a spot just by the water. When he examined where she was looking, he saw only the same rock that covered the rest of the shore. She reached down as if to pick up a stone and then jumped slightly, her hand shooting back as if it had been burnt.

Confused, he approached slowly, very aware that they were steadily creeping into the line of sight of the camp. “Til, what are you doing?”

“I think I can find a safe path across the river,” Tilieth said. “We both can cross.”

“I can’t swim with Link on my back like this,” Abel immediately. “This current is too strong.”

“We’re not swimming,” Tilieth replied with a mischievous smile, pulling out the slate. “Follow me. With that, his wife started creating ice pillars to cross. Abel watched them warily. They were… fairly easy to traverse, but they were still made of ice. He’d barely managed to not slip when they’d first started using it in the snow shrine. And if they fell into the river…

Sighing, he watched as Til easily slid across three pillars to reach a little island where the stone tore out of the earth higher than the water could cover. They weren’t quite in view of the camp from here. He followed his wife, wondering why she again stopped on the rock and reached for something only to stop midway, but he didn’t bother voicing the question. They continued with this pattern until they were nearly all the way across the river. Then Tilieth smiled and held out her hand, her palm closing as if she’d grabbed something.

“Caught another bug?” Abel surmised, catching his breath after leaping across the river with Link in tow.

“Something like that,” Til said softly, her smile brightened by her flushed cheeks. Then she pointed ahead. “We’re almost at the tower!”

She wasn’t wrong. From here they could just hop to another rock and then they’d be at the shore again. Tilieth hastily ran ahead, climbing up some rocks that helped her reach nearly halfway up the tower.

“Be careful!” Abel called a little worriedly before settling Link on the ground. As he examined his boy, he noticed a little blood stain on Link’s trousers, right around where the strap of the harness would be. Feeling his gut clench a little, he slid them down to look and see the damage he suspected was happening.

The harness was hurting him. Because of course it was. It wasn’t as if something could go well for any of them. It wasn’t as if Link couldn’t just wake up, and—

Abel bit his lip, reaching into his bag for what little medical supplies they’d packed as he cleaned the pressure wounds. There was no sense in complaining about it. He just had to deal with it. Just like he dealt with everything else.

There was a yell of excitement and Abel looked up and nearly had a heart attack as his wife practically landed on top of them, their glider guiding her descent. Before he even had a chance to speak, Tilieth was immediately rambling with excitement.

“Honey, there was another upgrade to the slate, it has a sensor that can track shrines, we can find any shrine anywhere now and—why are Link’s pants pulled down? Did he make a mess? Why—is that blood? What happened?!”

Abel held up a hand in a desperate attempt to make his wife at least pause for breath so he could explain, and then her words registered. “A sensor? The slate can find shrines?”

Tilieth’s distress was evident when she started to speak again, so Abel hastily redressed their son and explained, “It’s the harness, Til. There wasn’t an attack. Tell me about the sensor.”

Tilieth bit her lip, anxiety sketched into every crease of her pinched face, and then she determinedly pulled out the slate. “If we follow the beeping, it’ll lead us to shrines. It’s already picked up on one nearby.”

Abel ignored how his stomach growled in protest while the midday sun hung heavily overhead. He was suddenly filled with energy at the sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, something was finally going well today. Carefully slipping the harness back on Link, he rose with his son. “Then let’s get going.”

Tilieth rushed ahead, leaving Abel to run to keep up with her. At first they climbed a few rocks and then started to trace a path around the mountain. Then Til paused so abruptly Abel crashed right into her.

“Til, what the—”

“The signal stopped,” she interjected, a little worried. “Let’s try again.”

Turning around, Tilieth brushed by Abel, who followed her hesitantly, his brow steadily crinkling together. He heard the little slate chirping more frantically as they moved, and Tilieth picked up the pace once more.

And then she stopped again.

“Til—”

“It keeps disappearing.” She said, squinting at the screen. “I think… honey, I think we have to climb.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

He shouldn’t have been surprised at this point.

Shaking his head, he said, “Well, if it means we can find a shrine, then let’s go.”

The couple looked upward, sizing up the mountain. There were perches for them to cling to, but it wasn’t going to be a pleasant experience. Abel’s gut churned; if Til lost her grip, there was nothing he could do to catch her. He didn’t like this.

Then again, they had little choice in the matter. And she had the paraglider, so there was that.

Slowly but surely, the two started to climb, emboldened by the repeated encouragement from the slate.

And then, halfway up the mountain, it stopped.

“What happened?” Abel asked, growing a little concerned and more than a little frustrated.

“We lost the signal,” Tilieth muttered, carefully looking at the slate as sweat poured off her forehead. “But… it didn’t… this doesn’t make sense…”

“Maybe we should just bomb our way through the mountain,” Abel grumbled.

“No, we have to figure this out!” Tilieth argued. Abel noticed with worry that her arm was visibly trembling.

“We will,” he insisted. “But let’s reach the top first.”

The pair continued on, and Abel quickly realized how completely idiotic of a suggestion that had been. There was absolutely no way they were reaching the top. Thankfully, though, there were outcroppings where they could stop and rest. By the time Abel dragged himself onto stable, even ground, his body gave out altogether, leaving him in a crumpled pile lying prone in the grass while Link slowly crushed the air out of him. Tilieth wasn’t of much help as she was splayed out on her back beside him, panting.

“Why—is there—a shrine—in the middle—of the mountain?” she asked between breaths.

“Why can’t that damn sensor figure out where the hell we’re supposed to go?” Abel snapped. “It has to be broken.”

Til groaned as she pushed herself into a seated position and gently coaxed Abel to lie on his side so she could get Link out of the harness. A steady rain started to coat the area, washing their sweat away along with any chance of continuing their climb anytime soon. Sighing, Abel finally crawled over to Link and pulled him close so he could shield him from the rain. He could already feel his boy shivering a little under him.

“I’m going to look around,” Tilieth resolved tiredly. “Maybe I can figure this sensor out.”

Abel didn’t bother to throw his two rupees in on the matter. Instead, he carried Link and found a tree to serve as somewhat tolerable shelter, and then he started rifling through their bag to see if Til had any elixir. They’d promised to not use any unless absolutely necessary, but if he couldn’t get Link to wake up long enough to sip more than two gulps of water, he’d need one soon enough.

Speaking of which, he should try to wake him again. At least Link was reacting to his surroundings once more. Every fiber of his being screamed in protest as Abel pulled Link into his lap and shook him a little, and his stomach was so tight he felt nauseous.

Maybe he should eat something too.

The ground shook, and Abel heard Tilieth call for him frantically.

Propping Link by the tree, he immediately grabbed his sword and ran to find his wife, only to find…

Only to find a stone talus.

Tilieth was miniscule in front of the monstrosity, running for her life to get to Abel.

“TILIETH!” he called. 

The stone talus took an enormous step and Tilieth screamed, dodging its feet within the last second. She managed to reach Abel just to slam into him, and he nearly fell over before whirling around to drag her away. 

His mind screamed a million different things at once. Where would they go?! How would they get Link to safety?!

Someone had to distract the beast.

Just as Abel shouted a command to his wife, she dragged him to the tree and pointed at Link. “Pick him up, we have to climb!”

“It’ll pick us off before we can ever get anywhere! It needs to be distracted,” Abel shook his head, throwing the harness to her. “Get him out of here!”

“No!” Til shouted as the ground shook again, the beast looming just around the corner. “Climb the tree! Remember the little taluses on the plateau? As long as they couldn’t see us they’d go back to their resting place. They’re even dumber than bokoblins, Abel!”

“You—you want to hide in the tree—”

“Come on!”

Well there wasn’t any stopping her. Abel quickly switched strategies, pulling Link onto his back and hastily clamoring into the branches. It appeased Til long enough for him to try to come up with a new strategy.

The stone talus loomed into view and then paused just a step away from them. It swiveled its stone body a few times as if looking for them. Abel and Tilieth held their breath.

A bird squawked beside them, making Til yelp. Another bird at the outcropping across from them flew off, startled. The movement caught the talus’ attention, and suddenly Abel’s world shifted and any stabilizing force holding the tree together fell apart as the talus picked up the tree and tossed it high into the sky.

Both parents yelled in horror as they flew through the air. The tree was steadily stripped of its leaves until Abel could see a clear view of ground underneath him - they’d cleared the mountain peak entirely. If they held onto the tree any longer they’d fall right back down into the river far below.

Assuming they didn’t hit the rocks first.

“Let go!” he shouted.

“What?!”

“Let—go!!”

Tilieth screamed but obeyed, and the two hit the ground hard before rolling a little ways. The tree continued straight over the cliffside, splintering on the ground far, far below.

The stone talus was nowhere in sight. Nor were any landmarks, until Abel looked around over the cliffside, dizzy and disoriented. 

They were on the top of the mountain.

The air was considerably colder, wind howling against his face and stinging his cheeks. The biting chill was a slap of reality to the face, and he gasped, unfastening the harness just as Tilieth helped pull Link off him.

Their boy was bruised, with some blood leaking out of his nose, but none the worse for it. Though he was clearly cringing in pain.

“Link, oh Link, baby I’m so sorry,” Tilieth sobbed, holding the boy. “I was just trying to figure out where the sensor was leading, the talus came out of nowhere—”

Abel put a hand on Til’s shoulder, too out of breath to comfort with words, when the slate chirped.

“That damn thing,” he snapped, getting ready to grab it and throw it when Tilieth gasped and pointed behind him.

Turning, he saw a shrine glowing at the very top of the mountain, nestled between two stone formations that looked like pillars.

On the other blasted mountain.

Abel was going to lose his mind. He was. He really, truly was. 

Gritting his teeth, he took a steadying breath, his chest burning both inside and out as his ribs protested against movement while his lungs protested against the dryer air. 

Shooting to his feet, Abel swayed in place and nearly fell back over, but he spread his feet a little to plant himself into the ground as Tilieth hurried to steady him. He stormed away from the twin mountain, away from his wife, and away from his son.

“Abel, where are you going?” Til asked shakily.

Abel waved a hand over his head, beyond words. His ribs hurt too much to talk anyway, and he was ready to go off.

The only way this day could get worse was if Link didn’t wake up at least once to drink something, and that seemed a likely possibility considering getting catapulted into the air didn’t rouse him.

Tilieth’s tear—filled call made him pause, and he clenched his fists, trying and failing to calm down. He wasn’t mad at her. He wasn’t mad at anyone.

Well. Maybe he was a little mad at Hylia. Maybe that was why they were getting pulverized like this.

What was it that they used to say back in the day? Trust the goddess?

Abel scoffed. Trusting in the goddess got Hyrule destroyed. Her royal bloodline had failed Hyrule and his son.

Yet he had failed Link just as badly, if not worse.

Abel’s knee suddenly gave out, and he yelped as he face-planted into the damp grass. His body felt like it was on fire and he couldn’t even tell if it was from pain or the pure frustrated rage that was about to tear out of his throat.

Instead, he took a shuddering breath and slowly sat up. Glancing back where he’d walked away, he saw Tilieth sitting on the ground with Link’s head in her lap as she rocked him slowly. He couldn’t see her face from where he was, but he could see her shaking.

The former knight sighed, drained of his anger and filled with hopelessness and exhaustion. Slowly, he rose to go back to his family and offer what little support he had left in him. When he approached, Tilieth looked at him, her cheeks stained with tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely audible over the wind.

“This isn’t your fault.” I’m sorry too.

Abel knelt beside her, slowly and gingerly wrapping an arm around her as he helped cradle Link. The wind blew harder, making both parents shiver in the cold, and it blew a few pebbles over the side of the mountain.

Only for them to bounce against something that was distinctly not stone.

Both Til and Abel glanced in the direction of the drop where the rocks had just fallen before looking at each other with curiosity and, in Til’s case, the smallest glimmer of hope. His wife rose first, leaving Link in his care, and Abel watched her walk as he held his son tightly.

Tilieth gasped and quickly said, “Abel! Abel there’s a shrine here! Just under the cliff!”

Though his joints were stiffening from the bitterly chilly wind and the cool moisture seeping into his clothes from the ground, Abel still had a little energy left to lift Link and follow his wife. Just as she proclaimed, a shrine sat waiting innocently for them just a little slide away.

There were two shrines. Twin shrines for the twin peaks.

Abel let out a weak, tired laugh, his breath carried away by the gusts.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get Link’s spirit orbs.”