#Wild... wild my beloved... why are you like this

[adrift-in-thyme]

I originally wrote this for Whumptober but couldn't find a prompt that really fit even before I lost the energy to keep participating lol. So I'm sharing it now!

Summary: Wild remembers someone dear to him

CW for discussion of death/referenced child death

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A young girl’s hands are in his hair.

They snatch a shoulder-length strand, twine it, clumsy, graceful, youthful, enthusiastic, around another. A third meets them in the middle.

Humming, she pulls them tight.

“Pretty!” She says, sing-song, like the chirping chickadee in the chesnut tree. 

“Mm,” hums the ghost who sits a short ways from Wild, silent and steadfast. He smiles and it is a tiny thing, a whisper of what once was. “I’ll bet it is, Aryll.”

“Mhmm.”

Fingers tanned by chores accomplished, adventures undertaken in the sun meet with shimmering gold. A pink tongue sticks out from a small mouth. Concentration drags down pale brows toward cerulean eyes.

“My braids are always pretty. Know why?”

Wild steps closer. There is a tug in his gut, a painful pull he should recognize. 

His eyes are locked on the girl. The other, he only sees in his peripheral. 

The girl is all that matters here.

…breathing is troublesome.

The wraith tilts his head in false contemplation. 

“Because you’re pretty?” 

The girl — Aryll, Wild hisses to himself, her name is Aryll — giggles. 

“I am pretty. But no.”

A ducked head that elicits a huff of annoyance. Battle beloved fingers take delicate shoots of grass and rip them up from the root.

“Can I guess again?” 

“Mhmm.”

Another smile, like a passing comment. There is a blue flower, its petals skirted in white, settled near his worn brown boot. The ghost scoops it up, offers it to Aryll.

“Because you always put the most beautiful of flowers in my hair when you do it?”

Another eruption of giggles as the gently composed petals tickle her cheek. 

“Nu-uh.” Then, a light smack across a cheek, forcing the wraith to settle back into his straight-backed position. “Now, stay still!”

He laughs and Wild’s chest aches.

“Okay, okay. No need for violence!”

Aryll huffs. More flaxen threads meet one another and join hands beneath her attentive care.

“You’ve got one more chance, big brother. Guess again.”

“Last chance, huh?” The wraith raises his eyes to the sky. Wild follows his gaze to where an eagle circles, following the guidance of the currents. “Is it because…”

Someone calls out, calls his name. A man’s voice, young, urgent. 

A messenger.

Footsteps pound an earthen path. 

The ghost’s voice splinters, shatters. He picks up their pieces, sets them into a box, locks it and swallows the key.

“The king summons you! He summons you on an urgent matter! You must come to Hyrule Castle at once!”

“Big brother?” Aryll’s eyes are wide, frightened.

Gently, the wraith nudges her fingers from his hair. The braid is only half finished. A thing of beauty it would have been, a waterfall of gold. But only half of his hair has been tamed. The other falls, reaching for his collarbone in gentle waves. 

He stands and the wind whips it back.

“It’s alright, Aryll.”

He hardly speaks the words. They are a whisper upon the breeze. That throat was never meant to give voice to anything louder, anything more joyful.

Don’t.

Wild tries to move, tries to hold out a hand. 

Stop. Don’t do it.

Don’t walk away from her.

“Big brother, please.” Tears bubble up, spill down. Wild feels their warmth upon his own cheeks. “I’m lonely when you’re gone.”

The wraith doesn’t quite smile this time. The expression lifts his lips like the levers that raise the drawbridge leading to the castle. It doesn’t manage to reach his eyes.

“It’s alright.”

A step. That is all it takes. All it takes to bring everything crashing down.

“I’ll see you again.”

Wild screams and no one hears. 

“I promise.”

Wild screams and the world goes white.

“Your big brother will always come back for you, you hear?”

Wild screams and blood floods his senses.

“Always.”

Wild screams and the memory breaks.

The world careens back into focus, and with it comes the worried faces of his brothers. 

Twilight’s hand is on his shoulder. He throws it off, whirls around, runs. 

They call out. He doesn’t answer. They pursue. He doesn’t stop. 

His feet can hardly go fast enough to carry him away, away, away….

When he does manage to stop, his heart is pounding out of his chest. His breath comes in gasps. His throat is so dry he has to focus just to force saliva down it. 

His legs give way. He crumples, falling to his knees in a pile of leaves that have been burnt by the sun. The forest reaches out and pulls him into its bosom. 

He closes his eyes and lets the tears come.

Aryll. 

He whispers her name, speaks it, then screams it, screams it as he digs his fingernails into his palms and grinds his forehead into the dirt. 

Aryll.

He sobs it. He murmurs it. He etches it into his consciousness so that he will never, never forget it again.

How could I? How could I forget you?

“Cub.”

Time’s voice is soft, softer even than the footsteps Wild had not heard.

He doesn’t lift his head. 

A hand settles on his back. Its weight is warm and welcome, even in this eternity of self-imposed winter.

Wild’s breath hitches. 

“What happened?”

It smells of iron and mold. He closes his eyes.

“You remembered something.” 

Time’s voice is calm, level, knowing. Sorrowful. Wild remains silent. 

A pause that gives way for the gentle song of nature. The whisper of bowing trees, the scurry of tiny feet, the lilting calls of birds.

“You remembered…someone.”

It rises within him, drawn like a moth to flame at the sound of the understanding in Time’s voice. Wild lacks the strength to keep back the agonized whisper.

“My sister.”

There should be a sharp intake of breath, an exclamation, a silence weighted with poignance. Time allows none of those things. He is quiet, but only so that when Wild’s words come tumbling forth, they have space to land.

“I can’t believe I forgot her! I loved her, Time, I loved her so much. I promised to protect her, I swore that I would and I didn’t! I didn’t!” 

He shoves himself up, eyes crazed, hair bedraggled, dirt carved in the grooves tears have carved upon his cheeks and neck. 

“I let her die!” His voice shatters and this time he cannot shove it in a box, cannot lock it up and swallow the key. To do that would be to perish himself. “I’m her big brother and I let her die.”

Time regards him with surging emotion and chilled detachment. Wild lacks the will to try and decipher what terrible things he must be thinking.

“Come here, cub,” he says, when a short moment of eternity has passed. And he is sitting close, close and it is a simple thing to collapse into his open arms. 

“I’m sorry.”

The words penetrate, burn their way towards his heart. Wild hisses, choking on salt that sears.

“We lose much upon this rocky path. I wish it were different.” 

Bloodied fingers fisted in Time’s white tunic, Wild briefly contemplates wiping the snot from his nose. He decides against it. Lifting a hand is more than he can manage right now.

“I will not pretend that you can reunite with her, even now that you have regained your memory. Which was not taken of your consent.”

Time’s fingers are in his hair. He brushes the tangled mass back and away from the muck that cakes Wild’s face. Gently, he pries the strands apart, coaxes them into sections.

“One thing I know for certain, however.”

He takes one group of silken gold, twines it with another. A third meets in the middle.

“Every meeting leads to a parting.”

One trio joins another and another until the endless tresses are united cascading cords.

“But that parting need not be forever. For those who are gone, are never truly. They are with us, even now, standing by our sides, waiting for the day when we will meet once more.”

Wild lifts his head, tucks a mischievous strand behind his ear. His fingertips brush the silken petals of a blossom.

He draws it out, gazes at it. 

“One more guess, big brother. One more.”

Time smiles, soft, kind, so vulnerable he looks more like a timid child than their stalwart leader. 

“At least, that is what Malon says. And I’m inclined to believe everything she tells me.”

Wild’s lips quirk up even as tears turn his vision to swirling orbs of color and light. He cups the flower with careful hands, reaches up, tucks it behind his ear.

“Fine. I’ll just tell you!

“My braids are pretty cause you taught me.

“You taught me, Link.” 

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

Some LU incorrect quotes for you:

Time: I have two moods

Time: Disappointment and Disappointed

__

Warrior: WHO STOLE MY MONEY

Wind: see for both of our sakes, I legally can not disclose that information.

Warrior: *pulls out a can of Grandma’s Soup* I guess I’ll have this all to myself then…

Wind: The counsel has spoken, I can disclose the confidential information that the money may have accidentally slipped into my hands.

__

Wild, concussed: So you see… Some may call it a mistake…

Wild, still concussed: I call it a happy accident

Hyrule, attempting to fix the head wound: I can tell you right now that this isn’t happy for neither of us.

__

Younger Twilight, playing hide and seek: Where should I hide… *spots a well*

Twilight: *jumps in well*

—one hour later—

Uli, getting water from the well: Why is this so heavy?

A soaked Twilight, in the bucket: ‘ITS ’BOUT TIME YA FOUND ME

I have no notes. These are all hilarious. Thank you for sharing.

[viktorpartner]

Haven't been able to think about anything other than the victorian/edwardian/WW1 twink and his 80's punk almost-boyfriend for a week, send help

[deoidesign]

I was gonna do a pinup but he kept posing cute idk what happened

[add1ctedt0you]

Me, with the unpopular opinion that, in a wq lives au, where wq marries jc, novel canon wwx is not taking well the news about chengqing marriage

[aroacettorney]

do not let caseys sunshiness distract you from the fact that she is just as much emotionally constipated as ludger.

[seventh-district]

i’ve just finished season one of TMA, and being someone who’s okay with spoilers is fun because it means i can peruse the wiki and scroll through the tag and i get to become privy to all sorts of weird, wonderful, halfway-out-of-context information that i get to look forward to understanding in the future

like. what do you mean Leitner’s in the tunnels?

what do you mean Jon eats the extinguished sun??

what do you mean it’s spelled Gerard Keay???

[lunarharp]

wip thing...

of my bg3 avatar hellebore. i also did some casual nude studies of my 3 characters which i'll put under a cut... rather unlike me after all. (so WARNING for abrupt non-sexual full Artistic nudity lol...,,,,) (< won't be making a habit of this)

they mean the world to me

[death-dott]

Tbh I keep forgerring that tumblr is a thing that I have an account on. I've been here so long but it's only like... Lurking. Like the slυt I am.

Anyway here's drawings from last month.

And as a treat for myself, transfem Yone with trans girl Kayn :3c

[nexus-nebulae]

holy shit i think this past saturday was the first time in TEN ENTIRE MONTHS that i forgot to take my pills for a day

[seilon]

pro: ran into a coworker at a bar last night who I don’t really talk to usually (he works upstairs, I work downstairs) and we talked and im pretty sure we were highkey flirting and he bought me a drink and the bar merch shirt i was interested in and thanks to the power of alcohol i guess i asked for his number and he gladly gave it to me and. yeah

con: i have the second worst hangover i have ever had and have been fighting for my fucking life just to eat saltines

[blujayonthewing]

it's wild that chemistry between people is a thing. what is going on there

[snow-and-saltea]

sorry imma put this one on here, i wanna reply to it but i won't be able to without watering down my intent, and if i do my point loses its weight

edit: nvm LMFAO i worded it nicely in the end, under the cut tho cus this is mf long

(context: in this chapter of a manhwa, the sister of a criminal who attempted to kill the main protagonist talked with her and told her about how her other brother died in interrogation for being part of the revolutionary group against the monarchy. his death was happening in tandem with the main character's violin recital, of which her father left his duty from interrogating the brother, just so he could attend. it was framed in such a way to show how oblivious she was to the political climate surrounding her, how her privilege kept her sheltered, and how even when the criminal's sister went to their gates she was detained and shooed away and dismissed as "causing a fuss". their eyes meet from the MC being up high on the balcony, and the woman from down low past the fences, officers manhandling her into going away as she was a commoner and could be seen as an ally to her brother as part of the revolutionary party. the woman says specifically that she doesn't think that the mc is guilty, she just wants her to know what happened. and the mc reflects on all of this and realises how clueless she's been, how sheltered of a life she had that, until now, she couldn't find the common thread between the two of them, and she starts crying and apologising. later on, when she calms down, the weight of her privileged birth and its responsibilities hits her, and she's steeling herself, and the chapter ends.)

first of all. hmmm?? "what exactly is the FL's fault"? of course, if we were to go by straightforward, linear logic, SHE hasn't done anything wrong. she never ordered her dad to kill people. she doesn't even know people are dying. no one has been put under harms way by her direct actions. all these things would be enough to clear your conscience.... if you are a child, that is.

if you are an adult, like she is, you will eventually realise that you have the power to impact people and things and your surroundings. if you are an adult with a moral conscience, you will feel BAD about your obliviousness to others' suffering that makes you rethink about what your blindspots in perception are; how could i have missed something so vital - how long has this been going on - why did this continue to happen? and this is the stage she is getting at. by our estimates as modern people living in modern world standards, it is very late to be living this long and not realise that you are not the only unique occupant of the world, blind to other people's perspectives. but that's besides the point, because everyone has their own path and pace to follow. it doesn't matter how long it took to get here, we're just glad you're here now to do the good work with us.

do you not feel some sort of revulsion knowing that a family member of yours is acting in immoral ways, and you've been the unwitting beneficiary to that immorality? does it not burden you with responsibility when you realise you could have had multiple opportunities to speak out against the hurt being inflicted onto others, while you were in a position to do so safely and without extreme repercussion? THAT is what she's feeling. she knows that she technically do anything wrong, but she didn't do anything right, either. and it is not enough to know suffering exists, but to strive to heal it, whenever you are able.

this is obviously a fictional story so it doesn't have to be that deep; except it can be, and it's trying to be, because this story is set after the revolution has toppled over the monarchy, so themes like classism, privilege of birth and how to quantify someone's 'value' will be present.

nevermind i wrote all of this but i got so heated instead that i actually managed to write a pretty polite sounding response to the comment, leading with curiosity abt their perspectives and trying to sound friendly and Open to Discussion. the proofreader in me will never die as long as im pissed off at people but trying to find a constructive way of communicating that upset 💪😎👍

anyways. this is what i wrote instead

i don't do zines these days but my proofreader ability for real saves my ass so many times in writing communication. fr i think i would've made some very regretful choices if i were trigger happy ajdhskdjkdjd i'm quite satisfied w what i wrote, i lined out what i got different from them and expressed curiosity on their perspective, posited positives to recontextualize things so that i'm not just going "no ur wrong and Here's Why", gently went "we can agree to disagree!" and remained pretty lighthearted throughout, with no accusatory or pointed language. i'm p proud of myself!! i am able to engage in discussions without pissing myself and other people off!! hurray!!

[keeps-ache]

blaaaauhhhghhgh [melting into a goop] aohhhghghhshabh

[sanchoyo]

whys ygo the only fandom I’m in that’s really populated with crackships/rarepairs out the wazoo. Like there’s ofc A Lot of popular ships but no one looks twice at ‘weirder’ ones like ones where the charas never spoke. More fandoms could learn from this 😔

[kabra-malvada]

So I finally watched all of Hylure warriors age of calamity cutscenes-