#I wrote the climax :)

[tansyuduri]

Oh my god I did the thing

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Teruko and Yosano should've faced off. I think Yosano should've been posed that question that Atsushi was; that reveal of the "future war" - Teruko went along with Fukuchi out of a mix of indebtedness and being at a loss for what to do. War is all she's known; of course she doesn't know. But Yosano has been to the depths of despair and come back out of it again. She might've faltered at this horrific reminder of her trauma, but when it comes down to it, she saves the lives before her. She fought for a way back to light and life. I just think there could've been a really interesting conflict there. And it would've made Teruko's role much more tragic if she wanted desperately for there to be a third option but just didn't have enough time to sit with it and process what that third option might be before Fyodor made it all go to hell.

Also a fight between them would've been interesting, because Teruko is much physically stronger than Yosano, but Yosano can heal from any physical injury inflicted. However, since we now know Teruko can alter mental age, she could inflict psychological wounds by de-aging her, which would've been a good callback to the horrors of war in her backstory, and also been a nice bit of foreshadowing for Teruko actually being a child.

Teruko eventually allowing Yosano to leave out that door after seeing her resolve would've been a deeply bittersweet and powerful moment, I think, especially in hindsight after her backstory reveal.

[inthedeepeclipse]

On Ibara, Hiyori and the Buisness world of Enstars

Smth smth hiyoiba is a push and pull relationship of who will drop their guard down first. Hiyori is usually first to do so, because of the way Ibara grew up he won’t drop it unless its a completely private space.

I would say that Ibara knows that Hiyori puts up an act. I’m pretty sure its canon that Hiyori was communicating with Eden during Getto Spectacle, and especially towards Eden and upper management. They’re aware of it, but its hard to be vulnerable with these two.

They trust each other. They’re aware of the power they do hold. (Though I’m not sure if the child soldier thing was told to Hiyori in canon) At least in the business world, I’m guessing. Hiyori still has connections, and Ibara has the power to turn his creative ideas into reality.

I really do want an exploration of the buisness side of Enstars. We do have canon corporations, but technically its a competitive monopoly. Eden climax has already brought us a set up, and bringing us to an understanding of how being an idolized person in a competitive market makes you lose yourself and greed talking to make those actions take place.

Their first interactions are about Hiyori’s judge of character and the inner workings of CosPro. (Saga Release 6) Because that is what they know about each other at that moment.

ES is operated mostly by Tenshouin related companies, making their name more widespread. Hiyori comments about this in his Idol Story 2. This is making (his family’s) the Tomoe Foundation’s name lessen. HappyEle, please tell me where the Tomoe’s put their money in. Because its definitely not the entertainment industry.

Anyway, by Hiyori’s actions I suspect that the rest of the Tomoe’s are overworkers~! ⭐️ So while his parent’s respect his decision of going to the entertainment industry, they probably dont understand why he got there in the first place~! ⭐️ That’s why Hiyori is so against Ibara working so much~! ⭐️

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Elastic Heart Ch 6 (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.

(AO3 link)

First chapter

<<Previous // Next>>

Chapter 6: The Damned

The world was strangely disconnected. Sight, taste, sound, touch, nothing seemed to connect. Nothing quite processed, nothing quite stuck except for the single thought in his mind.

That’s the old man. That’s the Hero of Time.

The Shadow, wearing Time’s face, smirked at him. “Surprised to see me? You have been looking awfully hard. I’m almost flattered, really.”

Link felt like he was back in the Skyview Temple facing Ghirahim for the first time. The otherworldliness of this creature, wearing such a familiar face—

The face of a friend. The face of someone he’d failed. The face of someone who didn’t entirely trust or like him, and for good reason .

Of all the faces to take… 

Would it have been better if it looked like one of the others? Would it have made him feel better or worse? Wouldn’t looking like the Link who disliked him make this easier ?

Because this was a trick. This had to be a trick. Right? There was no way the Shadow was actually Time all along . He’d seen it change shape, it was a freaking lizalfos at one point for heaven’s sake. There was no way this was Time. There was no way it was in league with him.

Right?

Could shapeshifters change to look like people? He supposed it wasn’t impossible. But all he could think was, that’s the old man. That’s the Hero of Time .

The Shadow stepped towards him, his eyes narrowing as his brow deepened. Link felt an innate sense of danger , and his mind snapped back into focus.

He couldn’t be in league with Time. That wasn’t who the old man was at all. Also, the Shadow had attacked Twilight. There was no way Time would hurt his descendant, his most precious member of the group. None of that made sense.

This was Demise, messing with him.

The fear of a child long gone drained out of him, replaced with an anger that slowly filled him from the core outward, distantly familiar like reuniting with an old friend. 

“Your curse won’t save you here,” Link hissed, settling into a ready stance. “I’m ending this.”

His words gave the Shadow pause, which in turn made him wait to see what was happening. Why was the monster suddenly watching him, head tilted to the side? Had…

No. He wasn’t wrong about this. He wasn’t . He knew this had to do with Demise. Perhaps the Shadow was a servant of his. Either way, he’d get to the source. He'd come all this way - he wasn't giving up now.

Time’s dark reflection laughed, harsh and grating, making Link’s skin crawl. “You think I’m Demise ? That’s absolutely charming . I must admit, you’re at least close, but oh Hero - surely you must realize by now.”

Here the Shadow started pacing, his teeth bared in a sadistic smile. “You, Demise, you’re cut from the same cloth. Two spiritual titans battling for the fate of the world. Such a fight isn’t without consequence, as you are well aware.”

Link stiffened. No, no, don’t say it, not while the others were in earshot—

“I don’t suppose the rest of you realize those consequences, do you?” the Shadow questioned the others, looking down at them from the pit where they were stuck.

“Why don’t you just come down here and fight?!” Wind yelled, swaying on unsteady feet. Link’s worry for him bubbled in his chest, and he took a small step forward.

The Shadow snorted. “You think that’s all I want? To fight?”

Link gritted his teeth. “Enough of this. Leave them out of it. This is between you and me.”

“Oh, but is it?” the Shadow questioned, its red eyes glancing down at the other heroes again. “I suppose they don’t recognize that it is very much about you.”

“Quit your damn stalling and let’s get to it!” Legend challenged, sword at the ready. Link knew he was baiting the enemy, trying to draw him down so they could fight as one.

The Shadow knew it too. “Call it what you will, Hero of Legend. But I figure you ought to know the truth. It will give me some satisfaction before your deaths, either way. Perhaps it’ll give you some peace of mind.”

Time finally sighed, taking the bait. “What are you talking about?”

Link lunged forward to attack with a yell. They didn’t have to know, they didn’t need to know—

This was entirely about them and not about them at the same time. Link had a job to do and he wasn’t going to let them get hurt, physically or emotionally.

Is that really why you’re so desperate to keep the secret? Are you protecting them? Or yourself?

The Shadow parried the blow, holding their blades in a lock as it laughed. “You truly don’t get it , do you? You don’t understand how terribly you failed?”

“Shut up!” Link screamed, pushing both blades forward, making the Shadow lose its footing before it leapt around to the side, getting behind Link. The Skyloftian gasped, rolling to avoid a swipe that would have cut him clean in half. The others down below cried out to him.

“Oh, I can only imagine how much that curse weighs on you, you miserable wretch! I am not Demise,” the Shadow yelled in return, almost proudly. “But I bear his power, his signature, his heritage . Don’t you understand, Link? I’m born from his malice, but you are my true progenitor.”

Link froze.

Wh… what?

“You think all that malice that the demon king contained could possibly all be sealed into that sacred blade? You think he could have uttered such a curse, damning every Hero after you due to your own shortcomings, and a simple mortal child could stop him? You may have killed a god, but there are consequences, and the ripple of power that infected every inch of time is one of them!” Shadow said, pointing at Link with his blade. The heroes below had grown still and silent. “Demise’s curse follows you, your successors, and the goddess wherever you go, but I am the physical embodiment of that confrontation, the piece of your soul that was corrupted by malice.”

Link felt his mouth go dry. What—this couldn’t—what—

Shadow stepped forward, his form changing with the same disturbing liquid-like movement before it rearranged itself into a familiar face. Link’s blood ran cold.

Shadow turned into him .

His dark reflection smiled. “You made me, Link.”

Link’s mind went blank with horror before it screamed everything all at once. 

This can't be true! What is he saying?!

This is entirely my fault. This is entirely my fault!

This was the cruelest joke Demise could have pulled, the worst insult, the most horrifying truth to cut him to his very soul.

Because his soul had been cut, apparently, his unbreakable spirit had been broken .

This monstrosity had to be lying ! He was lying! There—there was no way he could be right!

But what if he is? It isn’t impossible - Demise was a god, he imbued his blade with a soul just as Hylia did with Fi. What could stop him from corrupting—

He couldn’t even finish the thought. He felt utterly violated, like he couldn’t even trust himself anymore, like he didn’t even know who he was anymore .

Just let him kill you .

The thought made him stop breathing a moment, a bone sinking exhaustion and despair that he could hardly hold at bay.

But he did hold it at bay - because beyond the horror was something else.

The others were still here. And this thing, whether it was him or not, was going to hurt them. And he wouldn’t allow that .

Besides… if it’s me, then… if I kill it…

He didn’t finish the thought. He glared instead, enraged beyond words, exhausted beyond measure, tears stinging in his eyes but dried with white hot fury.

“I wanted to attract as many heroes as possible,” the Shadow purred with grim satisfaction, basking in Link’s silence. “The more I can feed off the Spirit of the Hero, the more I can escape the confines of just being a shadow relegated to the darkness of the world. I hadn’t dared to hope I’d catch the original in my net.”

Snapping its fingers, the Shadow grinned as monsters appeared down below, distracting the others. Link cried out to them but immediately had to parry an attack from the enemy as the Shadow lunged towards him with ferocious energy, and all out war erupted in the room.

Link dodged the attack hastily, his world silencing everything outside of the fight. The Shadow was now his size, leveling the playing field between the two of them, but it didn’t fight like him at all. A small part of his mind tacked that away for later, a piece of hope he desperately latched onto as it whispered if it was you it would fight like you while another argued back but if it’s been around for millennia, it would change and adapt—

His thoughts were interrupted as Shadow shield bashed him in the chest, making him stumble backward. His body screamed, already exhausted from fighting so much. He reached hastily into his adventure pouch and found his last potion bottle, which barely housed a few sips. When he found he couldn’t take a deep breath, he decided it was time to finish it off.

The two gulps revitalized him enough, his determination covering the rest, and he yelled as he parried an attack just in time to send Shadow stumbling backwards.

Link scoffed, “You’re too sloppy to be me.”

The Shadow roared in retaliation, shifting forms once more and turning into Time, towering over him. Link gritted his teeth as he barely dodged a downward strike, giving him an opening to potentially dislocate his enemy’s shoulder as his arm was hovering just in front of him, but the Shadow was too quick, despite his bulkier form. Or, well, he utilized it, shoving his entire body weight into Link shoulder first, and the Hero of the Sky twisted so their backs scraped against each other instead, leaving him dizzy and twirling to the opposite side of the beast. Shadow shifted again, turning into Four, throwing Link off balance and swiping for his waist. Though Sky stepped backwards, the tip of the Shadow’s blade cut into his belt a hair.

The Skylfotian gasped desperately to catch his breath. That potion hadn’t nearly fixed enough, and he couldn’t figure out a good weakness on an opponent who kept changing .

Not to mention he knew he was flinching and stepping away as the Shadow continued to take the forms of his friends. He tried to remind himself that it wasn’t actually Four or Time, but the thought of making anything that looked like them bleed made him physically ill.

Down below, fire burned monsters in large swathes, the heat rising up to their battleground. Link didn’t have time to see Warriors use the fire rod, to hear Hyrule yell as he set half a room ablaze, to notice Wild and Legend freezing enemies with ice magic immediately after they were roasted, making their bodies shrivel in the drastic environmental changes. 

He did hear Twilight’s cry of pain, however, and he turned in horror, the bottom of his stomach dropping out, before his peripheral vision reminded him of an incoming attack. He sidestepped hastily, lost his balance, and summarily twisted his ankle on an uneven stone as he slammed into the ground, pain shooting all the way up to his hip.

Time heard it too. The eldest Link whirled, both eyes opened in fear and protective anger, when he saw his pup fighting a handful of beasts alone while trying to climb the walls to get to Sky. Wild hastily turned his arrows towards the small horde, giving a warning yell before firing this time. Twilight ducked, his shield hovering overhead to protect himself as ice rained from the sky. Time used the hookshot to latch onto a lantern and pull himself to his descendant, cutting the frozen beasts in half.

“Are you alright?” he immediately asked.

“Fine! Fine, I promise ,” Twilight insisted. “Just nabbed me a bit, look.”

The rancher showed him the wound, superficial as it was, but enough to leave him limping. Time immediately reached into the boy’s bag, pulling out the last of the milk he’d had earlier.

Twilight opened his mouth to protest, and Time immediately said, “Don’t you even dare . You haven’t earned the right to downplay your wounds after last time. I’m not saying use your last potion. Just drink this so I know you’re fine.”

Twilight sighed in defeat, downing the liquid.

Despite the small reprieve for the pair, the battle on the ground level had barely let up. Warriors cut through swathes of half burnt enemies, what little magical ability he had mostly depleted, and he choked back a gasp and rolled as a moblin swung for his head. Wind tore past him, stabbing the beast’s knee. When the moblin wailed and its leg gave out, the sailor hastily removed his blade, twirling to give himself moment before his sword cleanly cut through the creature’s neck. The fierceness in the child’s eyes was nearly palpable, and he nodded mutely to the captain before continuing on.

The captain surveyed the battle, eyes analytical. They’d eliminated nearly a third of the horde, but it was slow going. After already partially clearing a dungeon and pushing themselves all day, there were weak points he was beginning to notice. Twilight had been one, but Time was covering him. Wind seemed steadier on his feet, but he’d also just been knocked out a few minutes ago. Hyrule and Four had paired up while Legend and Wild held enemies at bay from a distance.

His brain automatically tried accounting for Sky out of habit, and he felt his heart skip a beat as he glanced upward. He couldn’t see anything from this vantage point. But he couldn’t worry about it right now - they’d be useless to Sky if they couldn't eliminate the immediate threat down here.

Heading for the sailor, he watched the boy’s back while he took on a pair of bokoblins.

Up above, Link found himself wishing he was outside. The stale air and dust was hardly doing him any favors with as much as he was desperately trying to suck in breaths. Nevertheless, he raised his blade with a prayer, feeling power emanating from Fi as she sang in sync with his cry. The Shadow’s eyes widened, his dark blade unable to match such an attack, and he barely dodged the strike. It did manage to create distance between them briefly, allowing Link a moment to recover before raising his blade once more.

The Shadow took the opportunity, rushing ahead in a risk of either getting to his foe in time while he was wide open or being cut cleanly in half. 

The former option won out. 

Link managed to deflect a full-on stab with his shield, but the blade still cut through his side as it slipped out of reach. He hissed, feeling fire erupt in his side as blood immediately began to trickle from the wound. The Shadow smirked, not breaking contact, and Link growled defiantly, slamming his head directly into the other’s. His enemy yelled, stumbling backwards as Link saw stars and attempted to blink them away. He stumbled until he felt a breeze blow by him with a sharp whistle, and he belatedly realized it was an arrow. Had the Shadow changed tactics again?

The arrow arched and landed on the ground on the other side of the platform, freezing the stone around it temporarily. Link whirled, but the Shadow was only glaring at him with sword and shield still in hand. Who had—?

Wild.

At the ground level, the champion pulled out different arrows, glaring fiercely up above as Legend covered him.

“You should probably let our Ordonian figure this out!” Legend again warned him as he cut down some keese. “He knows this place better than any of us!”

“He almost got ambushed,” Wild fired back, shaking his head. “I got this!”

“What the hell have you got?!” Warriors snapped from across the way.

“Focus on your own fight!” Wild fired back, eyes narrowing as he looked for his next target.

He wasn’t going rogue. He wasn’t deviating from the plan. He wasn’t going to abandon the group to solely go after Sky. 

He would bring Sky to them .

He nocked three arrows, looking over their red bulky tips, and yelled as loudly as he could, “Fire in the hole, Sky!”

Up above, the voice rang in the ears of his brother-in-arms, who immediately moved into the center of the platform to avoid another stray attack. Shadow didn’t quite understand what was happening, though he mirrored Link’s steps, making him inaccessible to the others down below. Link didn’t give the monster time to figure out what was happening, closing the space between them with a diagonal slash and forcing him to block. Three arrows flew over them, aimed far, far above where it should have been if Wild had any intention on hitting them.

Realization sank into Link like a stone.

He looked up a moment too late to see the arrows collide with the ceiling. 

Ah, shit.

Link watched massive chunks of stone fall from above, forcing him to run towards the edge of the platform just as the Shadow did. The pair were close enough to exchange blows as they ran, neither hitting with particular strength or accuracy, though enough to divide their foe’s concentration. Link pulled out a clawshot, throwing care to the winds as he slapped his shield on his back. He fired for a few stakes at the top of a broken stairway, and Shadow latched onto him the instant the chain pulled. The monster’s grip sank into his fresh wound, making him scream and nearly let go.

Honestly, he had to let go. If he followed through on this move he was going to just hit the stakes and be stuck hanging with the Shadow holding onto him. He wouldn’t be able to defend himself.

But if he let go the sailcloth might not stop both of them from slamming into the ground.

Link huffed, an insolent smile curling his lips, and he released his grip.

The Shadow snarled at him, panic in its red eyes, a strange look on his own face. But Link’s sense of victory was short lived as the Shadow twisted them so that Link was at the bottom and reached for his sailcloth.

The Skyloftian wrestled ferociously with his dark counterpart, preventing him from latching on to their one saving grace, but it didn’t seem to matter either way - their sideways momentum continued long enough for them to slam into a staircase instead of making it all the way to the floor, and Link couldn’t help the scream of pain that was ripped out of him as he felt a rib snap.

Cries rang out from below.

“Champion what the hell— ”

"I didn't mean for it to grab him!"

“We can get to them now, let’s go !”

Time took off in a heartbeat alongside Twilight and Legend. The falling stones had separated the rest from the stairway, though they also killed the majority of the remaining monsters. The eldest Link could see Sky up ahead, pulling himself to stand just in time to parry an attack from the enemy, who seemed just as shaky on its feet.

Despite the Shadow’s efforts, it couldn’t break through Sky’s defense. The boy was the best swordfighter in the group. Sky found an opening and went for it, and though the Shadow jumped to dodge, the knight still managed to cut through fabric and make the monster bleed, though superficially.

Hissing, the Shadow stepped back further, creating distance between them and shifting into a dark liazalfos. With its increased speed it slithered quickly around Sky, bashing him into a wall with its tail. Sky hit the ground and didn’t move. 

Twilight yelled the same time as Warriors, but the captain was being held back by multiple monsters while the rancher had to focus on enemies encroaching on him and Time. Wind, Hyrule, and Four had their hands full as well, and Wild was too far away to be of any use. Legend pulled out a boomerang, charging ahead as the Shadow shifted back into Time’s darker half.

Smirking, the demonic visage of their leader said, “And now you get what you deserve, Chosen Hero .”

Raising its sword, the Shadow thrust it down to pierce Sky through the heart when its motion was stopped. The Shadow jerked with a jolt, blinking rapidly and looking down to see an arrow wedged between its ribs. Snarling, it turned its head to glare at its heroic reflection, who was fixing it with a withering, seething glare as he lowered his bow.

“Get away from him you bastard!” Legend screamed, getting within throwing distance. The Shadow raised its shield to deflect the boomerang and then turned to flee, too wounded to continue the fight. Legend pursued it as Time ran to Sky, who was still motionless on the stairs.

The sounds of battle seemed to quiet down in Time’s mind as he finally took the last three steps in one long stretch and knelt down by the teenager who they’d been chasing for days.  

“S-shadow…” Sky said with a trembling voice.

“He’s gone,” Time soothed the boy gently. “He’s gone.”

The Skyloftian watched him, eyes watering and filled with desperate hope, and he let out a tired, barely audible laugh of relief.

“What were you thinking?” Time whispered, his voice quivering as he held pressure on one of Sky’s many, many wounds. There were far too many , and they were all in various stages of bruising and bleeding. He’d been accumulating them all day from multiple battles.

Sky’s trembling breath halted for a heart stopping moment before he continued to try and suck air in. A gurgling, bubbling sound accompanied it, and Sky coughed harshly. Time flinched, drawing the boy into a seated position as blood flew out of his mouth in little bursts of specks. When his fit had settled, he smiled at Time weakly, who was held captive in terror and horror as blood started trickling freely out of the corner of his mouth and nose. “M-making… amends…”

“Sky!” Legend slid onto his knees, careless of the layers of skin he no doubt just scraped off in the action. His hands shot to Sky’s shoulders, shaking him. “Sky, you blasted idiot , what were you thinking —”

Time steadied the veteran with his available arm, pulling his hands off the Skyloftian knight as shaking him was absolutely not helping. “Vet, get a potion.” 

“I don’t have any!” Legend yelled in a panic without a second thought. “I used my last one on the captain earlier in the dungeon, remember?! Where the hell are your fairies?!” 

Time shook his head, feeling dread fill him. “There are none left.” 

Trembling fingers brushed against Time’s face, barely tracing one of his markings. He immediately returned his attention to Sky just as Twilight came running over. “I’m… I’m…” 

“Save your strength, young one,” Time said softly, taking Sky’s hand in his own. “It’s going to be okay.” 

Sky swallowed, determined. “I’m… sorry. I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry .” 

“What… what is he… why is he saying that?” Legend asked, eyes wide. “Sky, what are you talking about? Listen, if you believed that shithead’s story for one second I swear to the goddesses I will smack some sense into you.”

Twilight was searching madly through his pouch, movements frantic and uncoordinated. Legend reached for Sky again, and the boy went limp, his eyes closing with a shuddering breath.

“Sky. Link. Link , stay with us .” Time pulled Sky to him, cradling the young knight in his lap, supporting his head with his right hand. His other hand slid down the boy’s arm, curling around his wrist in a desperate attempt to find a pulse.

It was there. Thready and steadily slowing. Time’s heart sank with a chilling realization, one that was all-too-familiar.

Twilight’s breath quickened as Legend started to shout the knight’s name. The rancher pulled out a bottle filled with red liquid. “I’ve got a potion, I’ve got one!”

Legend snatched it from Twilight without a word, tearing the cork off the bottle and shoving it in Sky’s face, when Time pushed him away.

“He can’t drink it when he’s unconscious,” Time said, not even bothering to hide the utter defeat in his voice.

Wild and Warriors were by his side next. Warriors stood over the group so as not to crowd Sky, but Wild had no such qualms and squatted directly across from Time.

“Is he okay? What’s happening?!” Wild asked, terrified.

The air grew colder and quiet. Three more pairs of footsteps hurried over, and Time couldn’t find his voice to explain what was happening.

He gave the boy a strong shake. Sky didn’t flinch. His skin was almost as white as his sailcloth. 

He heard Warriors first. The captain sucked a shuddering breath in through his nose, taking a step back; he’d seen enough comrades die in battle, he knew the signs. 

He was already mourning. 

Legend sank into the ground on his hands and knees, his fists slamming the stone. “ Fuck. No, no , nonononono …”

His pleas devolved into sobs, wracking his entire body. Wind was asking what was happening, his voice trembling, his face already implying he knew exactly what was happening, even if he didn’t want to accept it. Four was still as a statue, his expression drawn in horror and devastation. Twilight’s hand slid to Wild’s shoulder, gripping it harshly as the rancher squeezed his eyes shut and looked at the ground, tears freely falling down his cheeks.

“Does anybody have a fairy?!” Wild yelled desperately, his head and hair whirling around as he looked from member to member.

He knew they didn’t. They all knew they didn’t. Between the previous world and this dungeon, they’d exhausted many of their supplies.

Pop.

Time glanced to his left to see Hyrule knocking back a green liquid, chugging it like his life depended on it. The boy almost choked at one point before continuing. 

Elixir.

Dropping the bottle carelessly, Hyrule shoved Wild aside and took a deep breath, reaching his hands over Sky. Time watched him tiredly, his heart a pile of ash, his mind settling on the inevitability of the situation.

These wounds were from the Shadow. One wound from the Shadow nearly killed Twilight. One wound took Hyrule all night to barely scrape by with enough healing magic to make sure Twilight survived the night. Sky had too many. Although none were individually as severe as the one the ranch hand had sustained several weeks ago, together they were enough. Together all of it was enough. Sky had been fighting armies by himself this entire time.

Why? Why?!

Why did Sky do this?! Why did this happen?!

Time couldn’t watch this. He couldn’t watch Hyrule wear himself to the bone on something so utterly beyond his ability to save.

“Traveler,” he said softly, barely mustering the strength to speak.

“Don’t—you— fucking— dare.” Hyrule hissed between gritted teeth.

Wild shifted from where he lay splayed on the ground from being pushed. Twilight hadn’t bothered to help him up, too transfixed in hope and horror at the sight in front of him. The champion then glanced around between the heroes before locking eyes with Four. The two nodded firmly to each other.

Standing, the champion grabbed Wind and guided him away. “Come on. Give him some space.”

Four also stood and gently went to Legend, whose cries hadn’t stopped since they’d started. The veteran didn’t seem to notice him, but Twilight also rose and helped the smithy pull Legend to his feet. The veteran shuddered, trying to get a hold of himself as he caught sight of the glow of Hyrule’s life spell. Time heard Warriors shuffle behind him, drawing closer rather than farther.

Sky remained limp in Time’s arms. The blue glow cast by Hyrule’s magic made him look ghostly, as if heralding what was to come. Time swallowed thickly. He wanted to smack the traveler for putting himself through this, for wearing himself thin over such a futile effort.

Sky wasn’t coming back from this.

Time started to shake. Warriors’ hand was warm on his shoulder.

Hyrule started to gasp for air, sinking to the floor as his magic faded from his hands. Sky didn’t move. His pulse slowed even more. Time could barely feel it now. Wind and Legend could both be heard crying in the background as the group had been watching in the distance.

Warriors shuffled to the other side to stand behind Hyrule, ready to pull the weary traveler from the attempt, ready to help the group accept the reality of the situation while Time was still drowning in it.

He’d failed him. He’d failed one of his boys. He’d failed as a hero, as a protector, as a leader.

Sky’s gone .

A million thoughts whirled in his mind. What were they going to do? How would they tell the boy’s family and friends? What would they do with the body?

How could he keep moving forward after losing someone else?

Time bit his tongue until he tasted blood. He knew he could keep moving forward. He’d lost many friends. But this…

This was somehow so much worse .

Warmth engulfed him all of a sudden. Acutely aware of the change, Time was ripped out of his grief and looked around, wondering if perhaps a portal had opened or enemies had arrived or—

Hyrule was glowing .

“You—” Warriors muttered, awestruck, staring at Hyrule’s hand. Time followed his gaze, squinting through the blinding light, and he saw it.

The Triforce.

“I told you,” Hyrule said softly, clutching his left hand with his right as the Triforce burned through the skin. “I don’t know the meaning of giving up.”

[sunrisesinthesuburbs]

do you ever just write random scenes for a fic that doesn’t exist nor has a plot yet. because i do

[davonati]

I don’t think I’m gonna end up including it, but there is a version of Mt. Gilboa University where Sha’ul tries to kiss/fuck Daveed and then hits him because he’s rejected. This is def partly inspired by Beloved King (plus other interpretations where Saul sexually desires David) but I also think it would be especially good in MGU because it would create a parallel between that and Sha’ul having sex with Rizpah when she was a student. Like, this guy has a certain taste, and it’s not a good one!

It would also be foreshadowed by Yonatan overhearing Daveed about to say that Sha’ul only pays attention to the students when he’s trying to fuck them (I actually don’t know if anyone understood this is what Daveed was about to say LOL but that was the intention). I mean ofc that’s a reference to Rizpah first and foremost, but it could also be foreshadowing.

By now tho, if I did include this point then it would have to be canon that Daveed hid Sha’ul’s advances from Yonatan even when he was telling him that Sha’ul was the one who hurt him… and I don’t know if that makes sense. Honestly I think Yonatan’s revelation from Rizpah (and his accusation of her conspiring with Daveed) could be even more poignant if Daveed had told him that Sha’ul came on to him, but I’m definitely not going to go back and edit that now LOL

[mihai-florescu]

Remember when leo's pen name composing for kingslayer was regicide

[spentfromspence]

Super shitty drabble I made about Spencer’s addiction to get rid of my writers block ‼️

…

“Please, please Derek!” Spencer said looking up at Derek, although Derek didn’t meet his eyes. He couldn't. “Man, you don’t know what you're doing to me, I need it! Derek, please, I fucking need it, man!” Spencer rested his head against his co-worker's knee, snot, tears, and saliva soaking into his jeans.

Derek glanced down at the sobbing mess of a man, he scoffed and rolled his eyes. He shook his leg lightly in an attempt to shake Spencer off of him.

“Spencer, get off of me. This is pathetic and you know it.” Spencer stumbled backwards, holding himself up with his hands. “This isn’t you man. You never swear, and you sure as hell don’t beg.” Derek ran a hand down his face.

Spencer switched his position to sit on his knees. He trembled uncontrollably and his tears still hadn't stopped. He reached a hand up to his elbow and began to itch with his index finger. His finger dug into the bruised skin making Spencer wince in pain. Isn’t that what he was after? Pain? All the drugs do is hurt. It hurts Derek, it hurts the rest of his friends, it hurts him. But Spencer needed it. He thought he did anyway.

“Derek…Please. I need it, you don't get it. Just- just one more dose, then I’ll quit, I promise.” Spencer whispered, his fingers still digging at his elbow. He could feel a wetness around his fingers, blood he assumed.

Derek scoffed again still looking down at Spencer. “You and I both know that’s not true. You won’t quit, you're an addict Spencer. Save your lies because I’m not going to buy them.” He watched as Spencer breathed so heavily it seemed as if he wasn’t getting any air at all.

Spencer took a final deep breath, he couldn’t think anymore, not without Dilaudid. He raised to his feet and looked Derek in the eyes. Spencer’s eyes were wide and his pupils were dilated. His face was red and hot heavy breaths escaped his lips. Derek took a step back from the younger, he was starting to worry. He had never seen Spencer so…out of it.

“F-fuck you, Derek!” Spencer began to shout, he was hesitant and stumbled over his words but that only made him angrier. “You don’t know shit! Seriously, calling me pathetic? Who do you think you are!? You’re in my house, taking my drugs, and for what!? Why are you doing this Derek? I was fine before you came here.” Spencer shouted and he wiped a hand across his face ridding it of sweat, snot, and tears. He kept eye contact with Derek, something that was also out of character for the doctor.

“Kid, I’m doing this because I care about you. No good friend is going to just let you do drugs.” Derek sighed, he watched as Spencer finally broke eye contact, his face softened, anger no longer present in his body language other than his visible balled fists, which Derek viewed as a minor threat.

There was a long moment of silence. The only sounds were sniffles and the birds that continued to sing outside Spencer’s window. Spencer took a deep breath in and then exhaled before speaking.

“I-” He started but stopped just as quickly before starting again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to see me this way, Derek. You’re right, I am pathetic.” Spencer laughed sadly.

“That’s not what I said.” Derek muttered.

“What?” Spencer’s small laughs died down and he raised his head to look at Derek.

“That’s not what I said. I never said you were pathetic, I said this is pathetic.” He said, making a gesture with his hands to imply the whole situation was pathetic.

“Oh. Okay then.” Spencer mumbled under his breath. His eyes were fixated on Derek's pocket, he could see the outline of the vials. He sighed and fidgeted with his hands. “Derek-” His sentence was cut short by Derek.

“Shut it, kid.” Derek wasn’t asking and Spencer knew that, although Derek didn’t sound as mean as he did earlier, he sounded tired. Spencer didn’t say another word.

Derek wrapped an arm around Spencer’s shoulder and led him to the bathroom. Spencer stood in the corner silently as Derek turned on the shower and ran warm water.

“Have a shower, you’ll feel more comfortable once you have.” Derek said as he slipped past Spencer out the door. Spencer nodded, even though Derek had already left the room. He would feel a bit better. His fingertips were bloody from his elbow, his hair was sticking to his forehead and neck from how much he had been sweating, and his ribs hurt from how harshly he was sobbing before.

[yellowocaballero]

What are your tips on writing things that are both comedic and hard-hitting? Your style reminds me of Terry Pratchett and Douglas Adams in that sense, and I was wondering if you had any specific ways of hitting that balance of wit and feeling

No pressure to answer btw :)

Hello! My good friend @lazuliquetzal made an excellent post on this, so check it out! I can't phrase it better than she did.

To say something additional: a part of it is not an actual tip and it is the fact that I am just like this. It is just the way I talk. I'm an extremely obnoxious person IRL whose dialogue is half jokes.

This is something I've talked about several times before but I can't find the posts on my Tumblr. But there is a difference between a comedy and jokes. A comedy is in the structure of a story - how it's paced, the sequence and type of action, the character dynamics, and the internal logic of the story. In a comedy you either have a more straightforward style or you figure out how to make the narration itself funny and phrase things in a funny way. A joke is a joke. I use jokes in dramatic stories to cut melodrama and give a palate cleanser, to provide rapport between two characters, to humanize and personalize the setting, and because life is inherently just a little funny. We laugh every day. Things don't feel realistic to me if people never do little funny things or crack dumb little jokes. But similarly, comedies don't feel real either if there's no pathos or genuine depth to the characters - if the characters don't feel like people we know, or if we can't identify them in real life.

The best tips are the one LazuliQuetzal gave tbh. There is a time and a place for humor, and if it's badly placed then it can be super awkward. Balancing wit and feeling is just a matter of figuring out the right pacing, story beats, and uhhh that 'up/down' feeling in a story outline? A comedy is a specific type of story, and learning how to write a comedy is just as much of a skill as learning how to write a drama. Pterry used comedy as social commentary and Adams followed an artistic style of absurdism that has its own social commentary in an extremely British and 1980s way. I think, if your characters in comedies are designed as actual people with coherent internal logic and depth and not just joke machines, then the pathos comes. The jokes come too.

Not a great answer :(. I get this Q a lot and it's always so hard to give a good answer. It's partly just your own natural sense. It's partly skill-building and learning how to write a comedy. It's partly having your finger on the pulse of pacing and story beats, which is an intuitive understanding which is only gained with experience. The drama is in the natural character pathos, not justifying the comedy. Also, I'm biased, but I don't think comedy needs to be in a story for a reason and you don't have to wax philosophical on Tumblr.edu about why comedy in fiction saves the universe. Fiction is entertainment and jokes entertain effectively. That's really it.

[mellotronmkll]

i love apollo 18 but i have a few problems with it and one of the biggest ones is that i can never just listen to the fucking album because its impossible for me to hear this song without repeating it at least like 4 or 5 times

[irrealisms]

btw--i mention this in the replies to the post but im gonna say it on my actual blog bc it feels worth mb saying--my sexual abuse meta doesn't address the ending/climax for bin.gq.iu or most of the extras bc i dont want to get into all of that emotionally. suffice it to say that despite finding it very compelling ive got a lot of issues and mixed feelings towards both canon & fandom

[trans-xianxian]

in high school I would write little poems after almost every therapy appointment about what I talked about in them and I have them all in a google doc and reading through them I'm like damn. he doesn't even know that cql is going to kill him

[felixravinstills]

just got reminded that popular dragon show took away my muppets from me, so i guess it is a possibility that sunrise on the reaping could finish me off (take maximinius ravinstill away from me)

[breezytealy]

Chapter two of the MarTen-centric fic is up! (Please note, tags have been updated)

Marron has second thoughts about a second date with Onri and considers a second option. Goten and Trunks explore why Goten is experiencing potentially romantic feelings for the first time.

Snippet:

As predicted a Shadow landed softly, the silhouette of a man braking with such skill the herbs in the atrium only swayed once in the displacement of air. Even in the gloom the eerie sight caused by the Allblack suit was impressive. Face on, no facial features stood in relief. The light from the hob hood lazily pooled into the workout area beyond the atrium, but remained unreflected from the suit. For all eyes, the Shadow was a hole in the world.

Trunks clicked the wristwatch and the Allblacks flickered and vanished, his more usual work slacks and tieless shirt uncovered, the afternoon's sports gear and slicked back hair a fever dream. Trunks up-nodded, then tried to slide back the door, finding it unyielding.

"It's locked," Trunks said, his voice muffled by the glass.

"Is it?" Goten took another mouthful of pork and slowly chewed.

"Are you going to let me in?" 

"Nope."

"You've had the week."

"Nearly a week." Goten swallowed. "Gotenks is in the diary for tomorrow. You can both diagnose me then."

In answer Trunks press-clinked his phone against the window, a text chat on the screen. "Fine but I need your input now. The longer I leave it the more suspicious she'll get."

She.

Goten shot forward and stooped to read. 

[oh-gh0st]

i like to imagine that when jyushi and shinrei started to date/hang out more he offered to teach her how to play baseball... and in the beginning shin wasn't good at pitching at all. but yknow after a few months go by and they continue practicing (either together or by herself) she does get better at it and then the one day she successfully pitches a throw and jyushi manages to hit it (ends up being a home run. obviously) its Literally their happiest day ever. like he runs up to her and does that spin-hug thing afterward. the cute shit ^-^

[starstruckodysseys]

you and me and the worlds in between

(or: ash has been nineteen a while. mia has been nineteen before, and she will be again, and again, and again.)

The end of the world comes in waves, because a single, all encompassing ending would be too satisfying.

Ash floats over the Atlantic Ocean, racing circles around a statue-esque Mia, whose dark hair flows in the wind the debris brings with it. Her perfect, dark skin is marred by ash - actual ash, not Ashleigh Schneider, who can only hope to touch her in such a way - and the bags under her eyes are such a deep purple they almost look black. She stares, unblinking, at the ocean before them, the water drying up and rocks falling around them, like mini meteors. They’re not strong enough to be anything terrifying, just a more concussive form of hail.

Ash has been nineteen a long time, long enough to have seen this play out before. They’ve watched empires fall and cities crumble to dust and the earth itself end and start back up again, like a movie being put on fast forward. It still leaves a bitter, coppery taste in their mouth every time.

They pause their gentle flapping to settle down next to Mia, and though she hardly spares them a glance, she brushes her hand against theirs, tilts her head toward them in silent acknowledgment. Ash has grown past the need for recognition, reciprocation. They’re content to sit in silence, to watch the world fall around them. It’s a strange place for a first date. Lucky them it isn’t their first.

Mia has been nineteen before, and she’ll be nineteen again, and again, and again. Ash has seen this before, too, watched the cycle repeat and repeat like a skipping CD player. They harness the weight of the world on their back and grin like it’s the first time they’ve been here.

Mia winces as a particularly large piece of rock crumbles down into the ocean. What's left of it, at least. She drags the toe of her boot across the dampened sand, drawing meaningless little lines in the grains.

“How come you chose to come out here?” She asks. There’s no judgment in her tone, only a monotone sort of curiosity.

Ash shrugs. “I wanted to see if it was still here, I guess.”

Here is a rotting, abandoned old beach house, one their parents used to own centuries ago. It hasn’t been kept up with - there’s mold in most of the closet corners, a bird’s nest in the rafters of the open living room, decaying blankets strung across clotheslines that can hardly hold their weight anymore. But it’s theirs, in a sense. The only rock they’ve had in their eternal life.

They don’t know why they’d asked Mia to come with them, though it’s not as if she’s any safer at home than with them. To be fair, her “home” is an empty apartment with a dad who hardly recognizes his daughter, and they don’t even know if it’s still standing. It might be better for her if it weren’t.

Another rock falls down, this one leaving a burnt out crater in the ground, scorch marks visible in its wake. Ash leans over, brushes a piece of dust off of Mia’s denim jacket, and stands up, dusting off their own ratty jeans. She looks up at them, finally, blue eyes meeting green.

“We should go,” they say by way of explanation. “It’s not- I don’t think it’s safe here.”

It’s not safe anywhere, and they both know that. Mia still takes their hand, and the only thing Ash notices as she uses it is leverage is how warm her palm is in theirs. She doesn’t pull away once she’s standing up. Ash isn’t quite sure what to do about it.

They swallow. “You ever wanted to see Pompeii?”

“I mean,” Mia hesitates. “Sure? I thought it was destroyed, though?”

“So is everything else,” Ash says with a shrug. “Are you coming or not?”

It’s a rhetorical question more than anything, because they already know the answer. Mia scoffs out a laugh, some semblance of a smile on her face, and Ash bites their cheek to stifle a grin.

For some odd reason, her hand is still in theirs. That’s alright, it just makes it easier for them to fly her away, up and over crumbling cities and fallen communities, evaporated oceans and broken bridges. The world sits in disarray, suspended in discord, dissonant tones coming together to create disaster. It’s almost beautiful, in a horrible sort of way. Ash has seen creation form in the rubble of chaos enough times to stop worrying about how they get there. They quite literally cannot die - you stop worrying about a lot of things once that happens.

Their hair, dark brown and matted and barely held back anymore by their headband, flows freely behind them. Mia manages to look as elegant as ever, even thousands of feet off the ground. She glances over to them, smiles faintly and fondly, and Ash feels the familiar sensation of their stomach swooping to the point it feels like they’re falling.

Mia’s life is tragedy in B minor - Elle had told them about music terms once, decades ago, huddled together on a piano bench in an era where their love was frowned upon, giggling like the schoolgirls walking down the sidewalk outside the speakeasy. It had been one of the first times Ash had met her. They’ve met countless variations now, of course, Janie and Lizbet and Allison and Ginny and Lila and hundreds upon thousands of others. She’s been nineteen a while. She doesn’t usually get very far past that.

She never remembers them. They’ve stopped expecting her to.

Pompeii is beautiful in a way that maybe only Ash can appreciate. After the second time you watch the world end, it kind of gets predictable, repetitious, redundant. So they’ve begun to pay attention to the details, focus on the smaller picture while they still can. It’ll be there, in some version, when they begin again, but for now they have a girl in her final hours beside them and they’ll be damned if they don’t make the time count.

They lead her down cobblestone pathways, through arches and columns overgrown with moss, to sit at the water’s edge. It’s more peaceful than the ocean, rippling calmly around them. The sun shines down on them, warm and comforting, almost like a blanket. For now, they’re content to sit in this peaceful moment. Mia leans her head on Ash’s shoulder, and they stare out at the volcano looming in front of them and ignore the sheen of tears that clouds their vision, internally blaming it on their glasses and heat flow and a million other things that aren’t the case.

Naturally, this is when the volcano erupts.

The sky turns blood red, which feels a little too on the nose for Ash’s liking. They don’t get to focus on that for very long, though, because smoke and ash fill the air, quickly followed by lava, boiling hot and angry. Ash can’t tell if it’s the smoke or the sulfur stench burning their lungs as they stand up as fast as possible. Mia moves to follow them, but she’s only human and can hardly move as fast as they can. They reach behind them to grab her.

They’ve never been fast enough to save her before. Why should they start now?

Her hands graze theirs for hardly a second, but when they turn around she’s lost to the haze surrounding them, caught in the sea of ash - actual ash, again, because Ashleigh’s never been the one to catch her. They’ve tried, of course, but nature has a plan and when there’s a will there’s a way, so they’ve learned what is meant to happen and done their best to prevent it every time, yet to no avail. They don’t know why they keep trying.

Yes, they do, and their reason is a girl who builds walls around her that only Ash has ever tried to knock down, who acts like she never cares until someone actually asks, who has lived and lived and lived and still manages to draw the short end of the stick every time. She’s one of the only things that’s remained consistent in their long life. They wonder if she knows that, sometimes, when she gets a certain kind of glimmer in her eye when she looks at them.

As they frantically float their way through the clouds of smoke, likely burning their lungs, but they’ve dealt with worse, they eventually catch up to the coughing and choking ahead of them. A moth drawn to a flame; they always have been, always hyper aware of her presence.

“Mia?” They call out hesitantly.

“Ash,” Mia chokes out, and when the smoke clears she’s crawling on her forearms toward them, her legs dragging behind her. “Ashleigh! I-” she coughs, “I lo-

“I know,” Ash soothes, because they’ve seen this film a thousand times. A lump forms in the back of their throat as they float down next to her. “I know.”

The funny thing about loss is that it never really gets easier the more it happens.

Two days after Ash turned nineteen, they fell ill. Deathly ill, everyone said, the healers and the scientists and even the gods, according to their parents. It led to them being bedridden for days that turned to weeks that turned to months. They’d accepted that they were going to die, in all honesty. So had Austin, yet he refused to leave their side anyway.

They couldn’t leave him alone, he said, though the tears clogged his throat so much they could hardly make out the words. They’re his other half, the one to understand him in the huge, cruel world.

Ash had squeezed his hand and apologized and danced around the words stuck behind their teeth.

They’d been more sure of dying than anything else in their life, which is why it had been such a shock when their mother came home, one day, a vial of pale red liquid in her hand. Drink, she’d said, and they had. Why shouldn’t they? Nothing else had worked, yes, and they had lost hope months ago, but their mother and their brother looked at them with hopeful, pleading eyes, and so they sipped the whole thing until it was gone.

To no one’s surprise - or at least, not their own, though they’re sure everyone else was less shocked and more hopeless by this point - nothing happened, the same as everything else they’d tried. But they slowly started to feel better, if better could mean not actively dying, and through some miracle, Ash had lived.

…And lived. And lived. And just kept on living, somehow, and it wasn’t until Austin was getting into his thirties - they’d always had good genes - that he noticed the two of them weren’t mirror images of each other anymore. Ash had felt older, but when they looked in the mirror they hadn’t changed a bit, not a wrinkle or graying hair in sight.

Their mother had unfortunately been gone for years by that point, but their father was still around to explain the potion of immortality she had been instructed to give to Ash.

It had been great, at first, not having to worry about dying - from old age, at least, because the thing they don’t tell you about immortality is that it doesn’t make you invulnerable. But then they’d sat by and watched as everyone they’d ever loved died practically before their eyes. Their mother, of course, was first, and then their father, and then, in a moment they try to forget as much as they try to remember, because it was their last with him, Austin. A piece of them died, that day, because he truly had been their other half, their rock in the storming ocean of life.

They’d found Mia - Eve, at the time - near the river in town, years and years down the line. It wasn’t love at first sight, but her long skirt billowed in the wind and her long, dark hair flowed behind her, and Ash had felt a certain kind of magnetic pull they couldn’t ignore.

It was the first time they’d met, but it certainly wasn’t the last. The world had ended and restarted over and over, but they kept finding their way back to one another, as if they were tied by some sort of string of fate. And, through it all, Ash kept on falling in love, helpless to the whims of whatever powers rested above them.

They’ve lost her countless times - she only stays nineteen for so long, after all. Maybe this time, though, they don’t have to.

Ash reaches out a hand toward the girl they swore their life to years ago, a smile on their face.