#also another note i understand link was a kid with no understanding of the outside world

[gerudospiriit]

[Dumb take of the day: Nabooru should have gotten the Triforce of Courage when the damn thing broke because it takes a lot more courage to stand up to the ruler of your people and commit treason against both him (who is also just very powerful in general and she knows it) and the people you love because it's the right thing to do than it does to blindly do what you're told and accept a destiny you don't understand from a tree meant to protect you and a total stranger. :3]

[quartz-kilsviken]

Written in the Runes

Chapter 1

➸ Synopsis: Ekko, your mischievous yet endearing local troublemaker, trails a wealthy academy student from the topside. When you end up with the student’s satchel, you find a notebook filled with intriguing magical research. Unable to resist, you embark on a quest to uncover the secrets of this mysterious scholar.

➸ pairing: jayvik x reader

➸ word count: 3,649

➸ tags: Slow Burn, yearning, eventual smut, not canon compliant

➸ notes: This is going to be an eventual Jayce/Viktor/Reader romance. I want a boyfriend and I want my boyfriend to have a boyfriend. The goal is for this to be an incredibly slow burn. Timeline might differ slightly to the show, and I’m making shit up as I go. I don’t understand LOL lore or magic, nor do I want to. You can also find me on AO3 Quarts_Kilsviken :)

➸ Next Chapter Link- Pt.2

For centuries, art has served as a means to capture moments otherwise lost to time. It functions as a time capsule, preserving not only events but the emotions felt by the artist. Families fleeing war, yet pausing long enough to capture the image of a single flower—the delicate curve of its petals, the vivid color stark against an ash-covered ground. A mother, imparting forgotten magic beneath the soft glow of firelight, a pale blue shimmer in the child’s wide eyes. Runes etched into the dirt, knowing they can be erased in an instant. These fragments call to you, urging you to remember moments you’ve never known. Moments your mother never had the chance to share with you.

As your pencil glides across the thin paper, you wonder if, one day, someone will look back at your captured moments. Will they find meaning in the images of waves crashing against the dock and sense the longing that fills them? You doubt it. The flimsy paper will likely disintegrate into dust within a few years. Still, you continue—perched atop a warehouse roof, waiting for the familiar ship to arrive. These moments are yours, the sunrise painting colors across your pages unseen in your home.

With a long stretch, you stuff your sketchbook into your bag and begin the familiar descent down the side of the building. The cool breeze from the water seeps deeper into your jacket as you approach the ship. After a minute of waiting, the cold settles into your bones and you decide it’s far too frigid to remain outside any longer. Avoiding the eyes of the workers, you slip up the ship's ramp, hurrying down into the cabin.

“Got anything good today, Khal?” you call out, trying to suppress a wince as you hear the loud thump and the string of curses that follow. The yordle emerges from behind a stack of crates, rubbing the top of his head.

“Ah, damn it, I told you to stop coming in here. Couldn’t you wait another five minutes?” Khal mutters, continuing to gather various items from the crates, placing them carefully into a large black bag.

“I’m doing you a favor, really. Now you won’t have to make the trip outside. It’s windy today, Khal—you might get blown away,” you tease. He glares up at you, unamused by your joke as you stand over the bag. Realizing he has what you want, you try to smooth things over with your most innocent smile. “Seriously, you don’t have to thank me for going the extra mile. But if you do—”

“Sorry, kid, no magic stuff today.” He shakes his head, zipping the bag shut with a snap. “They’ve been cracking down at the borders. Rumors of a new drug shipment coming to the docks are making it impossible to get anything in.” Khal sighs, sensing your disappointment, though it’s clear he’s frustrated with the situation as well. “Look, I managed to get some paint from Noxus for you and the kid. I know it’s not what you were hoping for, but—”

You cut him off with a tight hug, leaning down to wrap your arms around the furry little man. Though he doesn’t return it, when you pull away, you spot the faintest tug at the corner of his mouth, trying to suppress a smile. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Now get out of here before the enforcers start their rounds.” You grab the bag, tossing it over your shoulder. With a quick farewell, you make your way away from the water.

As you enter the Lanes, the cool breeze morphs into warm, acrid smog. Your feet instinctively know the route home, staying in the shadows so no one catches sight of the bag hanging from your back. You push through the door of the familiar shop, relieved to unload the weight of the bag. Benzo looks up at you from behind the counter as you make your way over. With a grunt, you hoist the bag onto the table,

“You know, Benzo, I should get hazard pay for this. My back’s gonna be shot by the time I’m thirty, I swear. Should start saving for an early retirement,” you joke.

“You’re already robbing me blind with what I pay you, little lady. Anyone give you trouble on your way back?” Benzo peers at you over the rim of his glasses.

“Nah, not today,” you say, hopping over the counter and tossing a few items onto the shelves. “With all these new trade precautions, I bet most people don’t think it’s worth the hassle anymore.” You wrinkle your nose at a rusty pocket watch, trying to decide if it’s even worth trying to sell. Benzo sighs and settles back in his chair, apparently leaving the rest to you. You continue sorting through the shelves, but something’s off. No, scratch that—a lot is off. You stop mid-motion, eyes darting to the now-empty display. “Were we robbed?”

It takes him a second to figure out where you’re looking, and when he does, he chuckles, clearly unbothered. “Nah, some academy kid cleared out the display a couple hours ago. Ekko made a killing off him.” You knew you’d never have enough to buy even one of the items, but it still stings to know they’re gone.

“What would an academy kid even want with magic artifacts?” You bite the words out, too sharp, too bitter. You immediately try to reel it back. “He probably doesn’t even know what he’s got—just hoarding them to show off to his rich friends.”

Benzo shrugs like he’s heard it all before. “You know the drill. We don’t question customers.” He takes a beat, then adds, “But if it helps, the kid seemed pretty knowledgeable.” That makes you feel a little better, though not enough to erase the empty, hollow feeling in your chest. The case sits vacant, mocking you.

Suddenly, the door slams open with a crash, followed by a flash of white hair as the little whirlwind zips across the room. Before you can even react, the kid darts through the back door like he’s on a mission.

You can’t help it—you burst out laughing at the sight of Benzo, stone-faced, staring after the boy. With a quick swipe of your hand, you snatch the paint from the now empty bag, slip through the door, and head after him. Listening carefully, you figure he’s made it down the stairs to his room. You knock softly before poking your head inside. Ekko’s in the process of shoving something under his bed, looking incredibly guilty. When he sees you, his face lights up with a giant smile. The kid’s clever, but not great at hiding things.

“I’ve got something for you, little man,” you say, leaning against the bed. You wave the paint palette in front of his face, teasing him, but snatch it away before he can grab it. “If you want it, you’re gonna have to tell me what’s under there.”

Ekko starts pacing, looking like he’s weighing his options, then stops, squints at you, and says, “You have to promise you won’t tell Benzo.”

You put on a mock-serious face, tapping your chin. “Depends. Did you kidnap someone? ‘Cause I’m not sure I wanna be an accomplice to kidnapping.”

“No,” Ekko says, a little too quickly, his eyes darting nervously under the bed.

“Fraud?”

“No.”

“Murder?”

“No.”

You chuckle and shake your head, finally giving in. “Fine. I won’t tell Benzo.”

Ekko resumes his pacing, looking oddly pleased with himself. “Okay, so this guy comes in earlier today. Buys a bunch of fancy stuff—the kind we usually keep behind glass. He’s got a ton of money, I’m talking a lot.” He pauses, grinning. “Obviously, I charged him double.” He snickers to himself, then continues. “Anyway, I was curious, so I followed him.”

You shouldn’t have been surprised, but somehow, you still are. You stare at him, rubbing your forehead. “Ekko, really? Benzo said he’s an academy student. You followed him all the way topside?”

Ekko avoids your eyes, and you already know the answer. “Ekko.”

“No one saw me, I swear!” He glances back at the bed, stalling. After a deep breath, he adds, “Okay, so the guy put his bag down to grab his keys, then went inside—probably too distracted with the rest of his stuff to remember he left it behind.”

You gasp. Without thinking, you dive under the bed and, sure enough, pull out a satchel. You immediately regret your earlier promise. “Ekko, what if there’s something valuable in here? If he gets enforcers involved and this is going to be the first place they look.”

Ekko waves a hand dismissively. “Come on. Think about it. He came in for a bunch of illegal stuff. He’s not going to risk it. Plus, he’s loaded. Whatever’s in that bag, he can buy it again.”

You look at the satchel again, hesitating for a moment. Then, curiosity wins out. You pat the floor next to you, and Ekko eagerly plops down beside you. You pop open the bag and dump its contents onto the floor in one smooth motion. Ekko dives into the mess with excitement, while you start inspecting the items. It’s a mess—books, pens, random junk. Exactly what you’d expect from an academy student.

Ekko picks up a wallet and flips through it before remembering that he already cleaned out the guy’s coin. Losing interest, he starts to toss it aside, but you snatch it up before he can. It’s plain, brown leather with neat stitching—nothing special, but maybe it’s worth a little something. As you dig inside, your fingers catch on a student ID card. It’s scratched up but still in decent condition. You flip it over, and a pair of big eyes stare back at you. The blurry picture shows a young man, maybe in his early twenties, with a wide, gap-toothed grin. Handsome, you think, not at all who I imagined. You slide the card back into place and shove the wallet into your jacket pocket.

Ekko’s rummaging through the rest of the bag, clearly unimpressed by the contents. You laugh at the face he’s making and, still grinning, grab the paint you’d dropped earlier. “Khal said these are from Noxus. Definitely worth a lot. So, don’t let Mylo use them to paint middle fingers on Jericho’s stall.”

Ekko snickers, jumping up to stow the paint away, tossing the pens he grabbed from the bag into a drawer with a careless flick. He starts cramming the rest of the bag’s contents back in, and you look over at him, an eyebrow raised. “Do you mind if I, uh, borrow your stolen bag?”

Without missing a beat, Ekko flashes you a sly grin. “Sure, but just so you know, that officially makes you an accomplice now.”

You can’t help but laugh as you leave Ekko’s room and wander down the hall. By the time you collapse on your bed, the exhaustion hits you like a wave. Dock runs only happen once a month, but they require staying up all night—leaving right after sunset and staying until the ship docks at sunrise. It used to be so much easier—endless nights that never seemed to take a toll. But now, as your joints creak and protest, you feel like a 23-year-old who’s already past their prime. You glance down at the satchel, chewing the inside of your cheek. You’ve already gone through it—hell, you dumped its contents all over Ekko’s floor. So why the sudden wave of guilt?

You decide to be more careful this time, taking things out slowly. The first item is a crumpled piece of paper, which turns out to be a grocery list. You set it aside with a sigh and reach for the next thing: a hardcover book, dark blue canvas, its corners fraying with age. The moment you touch it, you can tell it’s old—the scent of it, the brown tint of the pages. The text is foreign, some language you can’t quite place. Maybe it’s from overseas? Curiosity gnaws at you, but you set the book aside and move to the next.

This one catches your attention immediately. The cover’s worn, but it’s the script inside that makes your heart beat a little faster. You flip through the pages and realize it’s a grimoire. Runes cover every inch, some familiar, others completely alien. How did he get his hands on this? Sure, he’s rich, but something so detailed, so rare? There’s no way it would’ve come from Piltover. The heat of anger burns through you, a deep, familiar ache that’s almost like grief. He’s carrying around a book that details the same magic your family nearly died for. But is it really just anger? No, it’s something else. The pages seem to hum, drawing you in, much like your mother’s paintings once did—pulling you toward something. Your past? No… not this time. It’s something else entirely.

Finally, you pull out the last book from the satchel. It feels heavier, like it’s carrying something more than just weight. You run your fingers over the hammer etched into the cover, studying its details before opening it. Inside, it’s filled with messy notes and diagrams, all jumbled but with a clear purpose. This is it—this is what he’s been working on. He’s trying to harness magic.

Though your body is screaming for rest, you can’t bring yourself to put the book down. When you finally glance at the clock, it’s already 5 AM, but you’re still lost in the pages. You’re hooked—caught in the madness of it all. It’s brilliant. Insane. Revolutionary. And completely, utterly terrifying. His scrawl is all over every page, his signature tucked into the corner of each one. Even though this is clearly just one of many notebooks—a fraction of his larger body of work—it all makes perfect sense. Harnessing arcane energy through crystals. Capturing raw, chaotic magic and transforming it into a usable, practical source.

It’s clear he knows what he’s doing, but there’s something missing in his understanding of the arcane itself. His notes drip with frustration, especially where he’s tried to decode the runes—almost every page filled with scribbles, crossed-out lines, and half-baked theories. It’s as if he’s so close, yet there’s a final piece that eludes him.

And then it hits you. You might be that missing piece.

You’re no scholar, and you certainly aren’t a genius, but you know more than most when it comes to the arcane. You’ve lived it, felt it, and you can see the gaps in his research—things that could be the key to unlocking it all. Maybe you could help him. You feel the weight of the possibility, the urgency of his discovery. It’s world-changing. The visions he’s drawn out on each page show the immense potential for how this technology could revolutionize not just Piltover, but the Undercity, too. His research could bridge the gap between the two worlds, completely reshaping everything in its wake.

But as the minutes slip by and your eyelids grow heavier, you realize your body can no longer keep up with your racing thoughts. The words on the page blur into one long stream, and before you know it, your head tilts to the side. Your hand slips from the notebook as sleep finally pulls you under, the weight of your thoughts fading into the quiet dark.

You’re stirred awake by a quiet knock on your door. “You dead in there?” Benzo’s voice filters through, soft but insistent. As your mind clears, you realize your bed is strewn with the contents of the stolen satchel. Panic flickers for a moment before you shove the books back into the bag, tossing it under the bed just as he softly cracks the door open. Benzo stands in the doorway, glancing over you with a raised brow.

“You look like death,” he says with a tired chuckle. “How long you been sleeping?”

“Uh...” You glance at the clock. It’s already 6 PM. You wince. “About thirteen hours.”

He rubs his temples, sighing. “Get cleaned up, then come watch the shop for a while. I’ve gotta head out with Vander.” The fatigue is clear in his face, the lines around his eyes deepening.

“What happened? Is he okay?” You start picking out clothes, your movements automatic as the weight of the situation begins to settle in.

He exhales sharply, dropping down onto your bed with a heavy sigh. “Vander’s fine. But the kids... well, they’ve stirred up some serious trouble. You missed all the fun. Yesterday there was an explosion and a chase topside. And today? Enforcers barging in here looking for four kids. They tried to rob a rich academy topsider, but things went sideways. I heard the whole side of the building got blasted off, and now the Enforcers are crawling all over the Undercity.”

Your stomach drops. “Was anyone hurt?”

He glances at you, his expression softening. “No, thank the gods. But the building—turns out it was the Kirammans’ place. What was in there? I don’t even want to think about it.” His gaze sharpens. “The kids will be fine. Vander and I will handle it. But they need to lay low for a while. Knowing them, though, that’ll be a battle.”

You nod quietly, though the weight in your chest only grows heavier as he exits your room. After a quick shower, you find yourself behind the shop counter, brown cloak draped loosely around you, trying to mask the weight on your shoulder. The place is eerily still, save for the hum of your own racing thoughts. Your eyes stay fixed on the door as you wait, the uneasy silence pressing in.

When the door finally opens, it’s Ekko who walks in, looking surprised to see you behind the counter instead of Benzo. His usual brash energy is subdued, and he leans against the counter, avoiding your eyes.

“Bet you already heard what happened,” he mutters, picking at some invisible spot on the counter. “Vander’s really upset with us.”

The weight of his words hits harder than you expect. For all the bravado Ekko tries to show, you know how deeply he feels. You reach over, ruffling his hair, offering what little comfort you can. “Hey, little man, it’s gonna be okay. Everyone makes mistakes. I get why you did it. Vander and Benzo, they’ve made their own share of screw-ups, so they have plenty of experience fixing them.” Ekko gives a small, grateful smile at that. “Go get some sleep, alright? Things’ll cool down by tomorrow.”

Just as you finish speaking, the bell rings, and Benzo reappears, starting to lower the shutters. Before he locks the door, you move to slip out. “Get some rest, you two. I’m heading out for the night.”

Ekko gives you a tired wave as he heads for the back. Benzo, however, doesn’t take his eyes off you.

“You know,” he says, arms crossed, voice low, “I can’t stop you, but I’m still gonna tell you—it’s a bad idea. Enforcers are everywhere. There’s fighting on every corner.”

You both hold eye contact for a long beat, but he lets out a resigned sigh. “No arguing with you, is there? Go on, get out of here.” He opens the door for you, and you catch him off guard with a quick hug before slipping out into the night. His grumble follows you as the door clicks shut behind you.

The streets are a war zone. Enforcers litter every corner, and the air is thick with tension. You move through the Undercity carefully, staying in the shadows as much as you can, until you reach Piltover. There, it’s quieter, and for a moment, you feel a strange kind of relief.

There’s no sign of enforcers from atop the large buildings, but as you crouch to catch your breath, the sight in front of you makes your chest tighten. From this angle, calling it an explosion doesn’t even come close. The place looks like it’s been torn apart. A sinking feeling settles in your gut.

It makes sense the building looks abandoned now—who would stick around in a wreck like this? But then you realize it: you came here without a plan. What was your angle? Strut in, say you’ve got stolen research, and hope for the best? Ridiculous. Still, you’ve come this far. You suppose it wouldn’t hurt to get a bit closer.

With a deep breath, you sprint across the gap to the next rooftop, landing lightly and pausing to steady yourself. And there they are. Two figures, barely visible in the wreckage, illuminated only by the faint glow of a lamp. One is scribbling on a chalkboard, broad shoulders following the movements of his writing. The other holding a book in one hand and gripping a cane in the other, standing a step behind him. You squint, trying to make out the messy writing, but the shadows blur everything.

Just then, they turn—though you know they can’t possibly see you. Still, a chill runs down your spine, and you freeze, watching them move through a door, disappearing deeper into the building.

That’s when it hits you—the pull. The whispers, soft in the breeze. The tug in your chest. Every moment, every choice, has led to this. The memories flood back: your mother’s hands glowing with magic, her soft voice teaching you. Benzo, taking your hand as he led you from the ruins of your home, offering you a new place where you could rebuild, and with it, the hope that you could be more.

And now you’re here.

You feel the wind, the pull drawing you forward. Without thinking, you leap.

[lesbiantism]

Nadja, Autism, & Womanhood (aka, me using the writers woman allergy to project on Nadja)

Ok here’s the highly demanded (by one person) Nadja autism + womanhood analysis. Before I start, I wanna note that I’m a rambly bitch. This whole post is basically me just putting down thoughts and loosely stringing them together. I don’t know if this will be coherent. I have Really Big Thoughts on characters like this but I never know how to really lay it out in a coherent way. So idk maybe none of this will make sense but it does to me so. Autism essay under the cut.

So, I’m a nonbinary autistic person, but I still identify With womanhood. Just not As a woman if that makes sense? Like I Experience womanhood but I don’t Identity with it, not entirely. It’s hard to explain idk. But for me, autism and gender are inextricably linked. I’ve thought a lot on how, when I masked as a young girl, a lot of it was just me over-performing femininity, desperately trying to fit in with other girls but always feeling like I was stumbling through the performance. Reaching out and tripping over my feet.

Women are expected to be a lot of things in society. They can never be too loud, too bold, too impolite, too dominant, too rough. Too much. I was always too much for others. When Nadja told that story about other kids finding her too loud growing up, so her teachers made her sit outside, I identified so much because school was such an isolating thing for me. My voice was something always criticized, and my big emotions, so I learned to quiet myself, to dull myself. I’m unlearning it now, and I think that’s one big reason I’m drawn to Nadja’s character, because she’s so many of the things I learned Not to be, and she makes me want to fully embrace them again. She’s a woman in a way I understand and relate to.

Getting more into Nadja and less about me—I don’t necessarily read Nadja as nonbinary per se, but I do think when it comes to other women, she sees herself as Something Else. (I think there’s something to be said about Nadja doll, as some kind of metaphor for depersonalization or dysphoria or something. I can’t really articulate it but if anyone else has thoughts feel free to). It’s like there’s a wall of glass there between her and other women. She wants to reach out, but that wall is there. But when it starts to slip-which is I think is what was happening with Guide—she puts it back up.

It’s interesting to see her when she actually Tries to reach out to other women. Like this season, being in the human workforce, trying to befriend Lisa, and getting So Excited that this girl liked her stupid banana phone joke that she just did it over and over, completely unaware that she was starting to annoy her. Kind of like how Guide was with her, and maybe that’s part of why she pushes her away. Because there’s a part of Guide she can relate to, that longing in her. It’s like that wall of glass is a mirror now, a mirror into the parts of herself she’s afraid to really look at or evaluate. And the fact that she can relate to another woman is New and scary. I think Nadja comes off as very confident, and that’s definitely true, but I do also think there’s that part of her that’s Afraid, that carries the pain of a lifetime of rejection, that she hides under an armor of stone. The part of her that has go bags made because she’s afraid of being exiled again. That part of her who, in many different ways, has never really felt like she’s had a place to belong.

I also think another thing that’s interesting is her relationship Jenna. How she saw this young girl being pushed around by others, desperate to belong, and she Understood that feeling, so she wanted to take her under her wing and help her find confidence. It’s a different kind of relating than with Guide. Jenna is a vision of herself in the past, but Guide is a reminder that those feelings—that part of her that Cares what others, particularly women, think—are still present in her. And it makes her feel threatened. She can’t look at Guide without having to look at herself.

Idk. Maybe all of this is projection but what is a blorbo if not a canvas for your own issues. I think I’m extremely correct about all of this though.

So yeah! That’s all my thoughts for now. Feel free to add on!

[saltywatercrocodile]

Quick (Informal) PSA For Therian Minors

I see a lot of minors in the community who seem very...comfortable, I guess, with sharing personal information and photos on here and other sites, and I just wanted to speak my piece about it.

Something I remembered from another post that I wanna steal because I love the wording: before you share something on the internet, think what could someone who wanted to hurt me do with this information? Not trying to be condescending, I'm an adult and I think that exact sentence in my head before I post/comment/DM anything related to myself.

Just saw a post where a well-meaning therian minor linked their Youtube channel, which has videos of them irl (wearing a mask, but still) doing quads outside and at an indoor non-chain business with the name/logo of the building clearly visible.

I cannot emphasize how much I was taught to be extremely careful about posting any irl images as a kid/teen, as people can infer your location from very minor details, MUCH LESS VIDEOS OF MY WHOLE BODY IN AN EASILY GOOGLE-ABLE LOCATION. What happens if someone with malicious intent sees that video, which is public on youtube? What will you do when someone attempts to blackmail or doxx you? Not only would this would-be criminal know where you are, they can also see how old you are and exactly what you look like. Terrifying.

(I understand we're in a culture of many people posting videos of themselves online, but (in my opinion) it's just not safe to be uploading public content that's advertising "Hi I'm bodily a child/teenager and this is what I look like and this is close to where I live and I'm also a therian who's probably hiding this account from my parents")

This individual is essentially just trusting that no one on the entirety of Youtube will just google the name of the indoor facility (along with any other location-identifying posts they may make) and either threaten them via doxxing or just straight up threaten their life/safety.

I knew someone in school who got too comfortable in an in-game chat, and was lulled into a false friendship and tricked into mentioning his address. Then he was threatened and told to send them money or they would physically find him. Thankfully he felt safe enough to tell his parents, who knew how to stop the situation. I know a lot of us aren't out to our family, and I dread to think what would have happened if the boy I knew hadn't felt safe enough to explain the situation to his parents.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TLDR; before you post personal info/photos, think of the absolute worst evil that someone could do to you with that information. I know it's a bummer, but doxxing/blackmail happens more than you think, and even if your posts only seem to get low notes/likes/whatever, they can theoretically be seen by ANYONE, including people who want to hurt you.

(also I don't mean to call out or harass anyone, I'm not trying to be mean, I just wanted to use an example bc it's what inspired me to make this post and also I wanted to outline why real behaviours I'm seeing can be dangerous, rather than just making up hypotheticals)

[random0lover]

Hello !! Am I allowed to request for maybe all of 141 (If possible with your schedule !! I undestand if its not !!) or just Price and Ghost (separate) with a reader whos a military kid so theyre kinda just used to them going away for long periods of time with deployment. Bonus points if they werent aware of reader being a military kid till they break down and confess as to how abandoned and angry they feel when they leave :,)) Fluffy Hurt/Comfort thats SFW, please :)) Thank you ^^

TF141 x Gn!Reader That Was a Military Kid

Pairings: John Price x gn!reader & Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x gn!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Angst with Comfort, SFW, reader is mean, talk of parental death, crying, reader is called: sweetheart, love, dove. Hints at depression, John and Simon are both big softies for reader, established relationships. That should be it! Let me know if I missed any <3

Things to know: Some hc’s with mini fic parts. Should be Gn!reader as I tried to avoid talking about readers body or anything that could indicate anything other than gn!reader! Also POC friendly! If you notice anything that makes you feel otherwise please let me know! I never want anyone to feel excluded with/in my work ♡, Also a warning to anyone that decides to follow me- if you do not have your age in your bio or a pinned post I will block you… just a fair warning.

Notes: Thank you for requesting this anon! I loved the idea so much so I hope this does your request justice! I kinda went a little soft with the Price one because for some reason I can’t stand the thought of reader being mean to that sweet man (if you want though send me another request and I can write one that’s more angst filled 😊) although I did bring out the reader being angry in Simons. Another thing, I wrote this for Simon and not ghost but if you want I can write another one that has reader dealing with Ghost but be warned it will be angsty with lots of hurt from both parties! Sorry if the editing is bad I did try though lol and there will be more parts to this!

Tags: @homicidal-slvt (promised I’d tag you so here we are)

Price & Simon (You’re here!), Soap & Gaz, Alejandro, Rudy & König

(I will add the links as I post each part!)

John Price

-I feel like he may have wondered if you were a military kid since you didn’t seem to be phased by him having to leave so often

-There were other things that also made him wonder, like how you always made your bed in the mornings, how schedules were majorly important to you to the point that if you knew you were going to be late, you'd get majorly upset, and how you also seemed to understand military lingo up to a certain point. He never asked though since you didn’t talk about your childhood much so he just figured that if you wanted to tell him that you would -But he started to notice that lately, you started to seem off when you found out he would have to be deployed soon.

~~

John had been awake since the early hours of the morning. He couldn't seem to get much sleep in the few days before his next deployment. He had left the warmth of your shared bed before even the morning birds could be heard outside, hoping not to wake you with his restlessness, but little did he know that you hadn't slept at all.

By the time you stumbled out of bed with bags under your eyes and your mind feeling exhausted from the lack of sleep and your own brain tearing itself apart, it was well past 10 a.m., which wasn’t the most unusual for you, but on the day before John would be deploying it was a little odd since usually you were up trying to help him get his stuff together and would make a huge breakfast since you both weren’t sure how long it would be until he would get to enjoy a home-cooked meal again.

You had hoped to get to the kitchen and make yourself a cup of coffee before seeing John, but he was standing at the fridge, putting groceries away from multiple brown paper bags.

You made your way to the coffee pot that seemed to have a fresh pot being made and got a cup from the cabinet before he started to talk, “I noticed we were getting low on some things so I thought I’d save you a trip to—,” he pauses, causing you to turn to face him, “Sweetheart?”

You were pressing your hands into your eyes, trying to relieve the aching pressure that was remaining consistent behind them, when he made his way across the kitchen and gently cupped your cheeks, “Are you feeling alright, love?”

You didn’t mean to do it, but you flinched away from his hands, taking a few steps back so that there was some distance between you both. You could see the hurt in his eyes before they were overcome with confusion and you hated that he was looking at you as if you were a skittish kitten that would run at the smallest movement.

He reaches an arm out slowly, as if to not startle you.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head, pulling your arms tight around you, and try to focus on keeping your breathing calm, like your parents taught you when you were little.

He takes a small step forward so that his fingers are almost grazing your arm but stops when sees you curling in on yourself, “Sweetheart, something is obviously wrong. You're crying, and your body is shaking.”

“Hey,” you finally look up into his eyes, “you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but at least let me help you.”

Your heart breaks from the pain you can see in his eyes. In all the time you've been together, you’ve never pulled away from him like this. Usually, you were the one open about your emotions and what you were feeling while having to coax John into telling you what was going on in his mind, “Please, darling.”

You let yourself fall into his open arms at that point, sobbing into his neck. He presses you against his chest, gently speaking into your ear, assuring you that everything is fine, that he is here for you, and that he will always be there.

You mumble into his neck, causing him to gently pull you back so that he can hear you: “What was that, sweetheart?”

You try to concentrate on the sensation of his calm heartbeat against your chest before finally saying, "My parents promised me the same thing."

He pulls away, puzzled, and you notice him looking at you in the corner of your eye, so you burrow your face into his chest and say, "They were both military. They died when I was 14," you finish, taking a deep breath. “They were deployed together when it happened… They said that it was an accident, that my mom got stuck on a timed land mine, and my dad wouldn’t leave her no matter what.”

"Oh, love." You feel his body tense before relaxing.

He gently grips the back of your neck and pulls you back so that you're looking into his eyes; the softness in them is almost enough to send you running as far as possible so that you never have to feel the type of pain that you did the day that you found out your parents died.

“Love, I'm not going anywhere,” you go to speak but he shushes you, “You are my world, the person I’m fighting for.”

He brings his hand under your chin so that he is gripping it gently and says, “You are the reason I’m still alive. The reason why I feel like life is still worth living and fighting for.”

He tips his head down so that his lips are grazing yours, “I’ll always come home, love.”

You push forward so that your lips are fully pressing against his, then he pulls back, “Why don’t we go take a bath, get you feeling better?”

~~~~

The next morning you wake frantically looking around, hoping that he didn’t leave without saying goodbye, when he walks in carrying a tray of food, “John? I thought you had to leave this morning.”

He smiles gently, his eyes lighting up, “Called Kate, they don’t actually need me for another week, and I figured my love needs me a little bit more than my job at the moment.” He sets the tray down on the bed, and you jump into his arms with a happy squeal, “I love you, John.”

"I love you too, sweetheart," he says as he gently kisses you.

~

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

-So we all know Simon is amazing at reading people, but I don’t think he would know that you were a military kid. He could see all the signs that you may have had a difficult childhood, but he personally knows what it’s like to have a childhood you don’t want to talk about, so he never has and never will question you about your past. -Pasts are a hard topic for Simon in the first place, so I could honestly see him being a bit grateful that you didn’t share the bad parts of your childhood, meaning that he also didn’t have to share his. It was almost a silent agreement between you both to not talk about the negative parts of things unless one of you came to the other wanting to talk about it.

~~~~

Back to him being great at reading people: He could tell that over the past few days, your body language had been changing, becoming more standoffish. Not being as open to cuddling and kisses, not even wanting him to walk up behind you and wrap his arms around you, which you usually loved.

He figured that maybe you were just having a few rough days, which was normal for anyone; hell, he knew he had them quite often, and you were always there for him no matter how bad they got, so he wanted to do the same for you.

Today had been the worst day of all, though. You were almost refusing to talk to him completely unless it was one-word answers, which he was able to roll with pretty easily. You would move rooms almost every time he would come in, not even saying anything, just picking up your things and going.

This made him decide on leaving you alone for the most part, other than when he would bring you a fresh cup of tea or was just checking in on you. So he decided on cleaning up the house a little bit, he was going to be deploying again in a week and he wanted to help however he could, knowing that it was a rough transition from having him around to it being an empty house again.

He had just finished cleaning the dishes when he looked at the time and decided on ordering out for dinner, which would hopefully raise your mood a bit and it would also be an easy enough mess to clean up. He found you in the living room watching a movie on Netflix with a blanket wrapped tightly around you and stood in the doorway for a moment just admiring you when you paused it.

When you snap at him, "What do you want, Simon?" Your eyes aren't even on him but on your phone, which is on your lap.

He feels his eye twitch but he keeps himself calm and makes sure that it shows in his tone that your attitude is leaving him unaffected, “I was just goin’ to ask what you wanted for takeout, love.”

You huff and try to pull yourself up from the couch while also trying to unwrap the blanket from around you, almost falling, but Simon rushes forward and straightens you up, but you quickly pull away.

You look at him with fury in your eyes, “Can't you just leave me the hell alone?” Your voice is rising slightly, and your face is flushed with rage. “It’s what you constantly do anyway!”

You can see Simon's eyes widen, but you don't care; the words are just spilling out of your mouth before you can stop them, "You're never actually here when I need you, but when you are, you can't take the fucking hint of when I just want you to leave me alone!"

"Sometimes Simon," you pause, feeling the tears flood into your vision, making the floor blurry, "I wonder why I even stay when you are just going to end up hurting me exactly like he did," you whisper, staring hard at the ground, your chest puffing in and out quickly, trying to pull in air after your large outburst.

The words come out in a whisper, the room becoming so silent that you can almost hear the gears in his head turning, wondering who the hell you were talking about.

You hear him take a step forward on the wood flooring, his voice incredibly soft, “Dove.”

You look up through the tears and see his hands reaching out for you, and for the first time in all the time you two have been together, Simon Riley almost looks scared—not scared of you but as if his world was coming apart.

When his hand gently touches your arm, it pulls you out of your stupor, making you pull away, frantically shaking your head, “Don’t touch me.”

The words come out shaky and broken, but they make him freeze nonetheless, and you can see in his eyes that he’s trying to pull himself together, trying to figure out what he's supposed to do in a situation like this.

He takes a small step back, his gaze fixed on yours, and he holds his hands out in front of him, as if to demonstrate that he is not a threat. "Okay, I won't touch you." He comes to a halt, seeing the fear in your eyes, the look of a frightened animal ready to flee at any moment. "It's okay, love, everything's fine-"

He doesn't even finish his sentence before you're flying down the hallway, grabbing your bag from the hooks by the front door and bolting out the door, slamming it loudly behind you, leaving him standing halfway down the hallway, his mouth slack-jawed, unsure of what the hell just happened.

~~~

After nearly ten minutes of fast walking, you finally slowed down and stopped in the nearest store to clean your face of tear marks and, hopefully, make yourself look presentable. You sent a quick text to Simon, letting him know that you were safe and that you didn't know when you'd be back. You left your phone on long enough to see him read the message and the text bubble pop up before you shut the phone completely off and tucked it into the bottom of your bag.

You spent the next two hours wandering aimlessly, wondering if you'd just ruined your relationship with the only man you'll ever love, when you came across the small Italian restaurant where Simon had taken you on your first date. You remember the way you tried to pay for your half of the dinner, but he quickly slipped his card to the waitress before you could even argue, saying something about how if you decided not to go on a second date with him, you deserved to at least get a free meal from it, and you teased him by asking him if there was a reason you shouldn't want to go on another date with him.

The memories make your stomach queasy, making you want to kick yourself in the back for being so stupid, but you walk in and order your and Simon's favorite dishes and try to keep the food as warm as possible on your walk back to your shared home. One side of you hopes you’ll find him there, not an empty house, and the other side wants to avoid this conversation for as long as possible.

You walk up the steps, and most of the house seems to be dark except for the living room, where a single light is on. You unlock the door and try as quietly as possible to slip your shoes off while also trying not to drop the food.

You make your way towards the living room to find Simon sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, and his face buried in his hands. You look over to the coffee table and see bags with your favorite restaurant's logo tied off, trying to keep the heat in the bags, making your heart ache with the fact that he still thought of you after you treated him like complete trash.

He was the first man ever to treat you with so much love. Even while he was deployed, he was making efforts to show you that he cared, like scheduling a delivery of your favorite flowers to show up on your day off with a little note, paying for over a month's worth of your order at your favorite coffee shop, and bringing back little trinkets from the places he was deployed too.

You knew him being deployed wasn’t his fault; it was part of his job. You knew he wasn't your dad and that it wasn't Simon’s fault that the man who was supposed to love you treated you as if you weren't even his child but rather just another one of his soldiers.

It wasn’t his fault that your dad wouldn't be home for months on end; it wasn’t his fault that the last time you ever saw your dad, you told him you hated him for never being home; it wasn't his fault that the day your dad was supposed to come home from a four-month deployment, instead of hearing him come home, there were four hard knocks on the door; it wasn't his fault that two soldiers were standing at the door; it wasn’t his fault that they were holding a folded-up flag with your dad’s military dog tags on them.

It. Wasn’t. His. Fault.

Yet you treated him as if it were. You didn't know which was worse, the fact that he didn't already know about what happened to your dad or the fact that you wished he did so that he could have a reason to hate you for lashing out.

You step into the room, setting the food you got by the food he ordered. “Simon?”

He doesn’t move for a second, then he looks up at you, and you feel your heart shatter for the umpteenth time tonight. “Oh, Simon,” you whisper, moving so that you’re standing in front of him and drop down onto your knees, “I am so fucking sorry. I don't even have the words to tell you how sorry I am. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you… I should’ve just talked to you instead of letting it build up.”

You move your hands up to gently cradle his face in both your hands and connect your eyes with his molten ones, which usually provided you with comfort. Now, though, all you can see is the look he gave you after you yelled at him, “I— I never should have let my feelings bottle up about me being upset about you having to be gone. I know it's not your fault. I knew what I was getting myself into when we made things official all those years ago. I knew what your job would bring before then; I made the choice to be with you. I'll never regret that.’’

You move your eyes across his face, trying to gauge his emotions, but you get nothing.

“Si, baby?” you whisper.

His eyes move away from you. “Who were you talking about when you said I'm just going to hurt you like he did?’’

You look away, your eyes settling on a loose string on his pants. “I was talking about my dad.” You take a deep breath before continuing, knowing that you have to tell him, “H– He was military like you.”

His hand reaches out to gently lift your chin, bringing your gaze to his. “He died,” you continue, “He died and the last time I ever saw him, I told him I hated him because he was always gone. He…I let him go that day without saying goodbye or telling him I loved him, and the next time I saw him, his body was in a casket."

"Love," he says with a gentle frown.

"No, Simon," you say, shaking your head. Just because I’m scared—no, fucking terrified—of that happening again with you doesn't give me the right to treat you that way. I am so sorry.”

He leans back in the couch and pulls you up into his lap; once you're comfortable, he brings his hands up so that one is cupping your cheek and the other trails down your arm to hold your hand. "Dove, I know what it's like to lose family. I know what it can do to you. I understand that pain more than you know. Pain like that is unlike anything else.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you blink them away quickly before they fall. "You've lost family, too?"

He nods gently, and you can see deep emotions that seemed to have been buried for a long time beginning to surface. “My mum, my younger brother Tommy, and his wife Beth.” He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, they are filled with unshed tears. “My nephew Joseph.”

You can feel the back of your throat starting to burn from keeping your tears in, but you push your forehead against his anyway. “Simon.”

He looks into your eyes before whispering, “I wish I could tell you it would stop hurting eventually, but I can’t. I’m not going to lie to you and say I’ll always make it back home to you; that's not something I can guarantee, but one thing I can promise is that I will always try my damn hardest to make it back. I will always fight with everything in my soul to make it back to you.”

Tears are softly running down your face at this point, falling to land on Simon’s hoodie. “I love you so much, sweets. I never want to lose you.”

You let out a choked cry before you kissed him gingerly, and you could taste the saltiness of your tears mixed in with all the flavors that reminded you of Simon. Of home.

“I love you so much too, Si.”

He leans in to kiss you again with a light press of his lips to yours before he pulls away and looks at the forgotten food on the coffee table and lets out a light chuckle, “I see we both had the same idea.”

You let out a shaky laugh and nod your head before snuggling your head into the warm crook of his neck. He runs a large hand up and down your back, slowly stopping at the bottom to rub gentle circles into a spot that usually bothers you. "Well, why don’t we eat, and maybe in the morning we can talk a little bit more.”

Yawning into his neck, you pull back and ask, “Can we finish the movie I was watching earlier? It was just getting to the good part before I stopped it.”

He nods, and you excitedly get out of his lap to get your blanket and the TV remote before he pulls the coffee table closer to the couch so that he can start opening the containers. Once you start the movie, you look over to Simon to find him already watching you with a soft look, and all you can think is how thankful you are to have found a man who loves you through all your faults and you through his.

You were grateful for ever getting the chance to be loved by Simon Riley, a man who truly believed that he couldn’t love and that he wasn’t worth loving. You knew that it would probably take your whole lives to heal from the things you've both been through, but as long as you were together, that was all that mattered.

Hi my lovelies, I hope you enjoyed this hc for Price and Simon! Feedback is appreciated but not necessary. As always I hope you have a great day/night. <3

Requests are open so feel free to send in some! I cannot promise when or if I will write them, but I do prefer requests that are slightly more specific as I find them easier to write but it's not required. Thanks for reading my darlings! ♡

[homestuckreplay]

Fluthlu. Nrub’yiiglith. Oglogoth. ELDRITCH JASPERS

(page 1149-1153; ‘[S]: Enter.’)

[note: I finally gave up on taking screenshots direct from flash. everything in this post comes from this youtube mirror]

I’ve watched this a few times now and it is still near impossible to react to. It is so much all at once, it’s even faster paced than a movie trailer but it has the emotional impact of a full movie because of everything that’s come before it. I want another week off just to watch this over and over and process it because it is hard to do justice to such a visual/auditory experience in words.

This flash incorporates most of page 137 (the Sburb installation), and that flash was also timed perfectly to fit the music – so it had to be the same song to make it work. But this page takes it further, because when miniature panels move onto the screen and displace each other, it’s also perfectly in sync. Is this what dance choreography is like?

The fire motif is present right from the loading screen, and Rose’s house is burning all the way through. I think this is why I don’t entirely click with the kids having elemental affiliations – fire/meteors are seen more generally, and affect everyone (even WV when his bunker takes flight!) so I see that as important overall, not just for one specific character.

Rose

Rose has the most going on here and is really the central character of the flash, so I’ll talk about her first and finish up with a little on each of the other three kids. The meteors over her Sburb title screen make the game look scarier this time around – but in a way it’s less scary, because at least people know what they’re doing, evidenced by how quickly and efficiently her entry almost went.

Dave throwing Rose’s bed into the fire is just like when Rose threw John’s tent into the void (p.616). There’s this very unsettling idea that the kids aren’t allowed to take a moment to rest, which will definitely come into conflict with the importance of dreams.

Jaspers being prototyped manages to be a big dramatic moment even though he has such a goofy, simple cat face, which is really impressive.

Zazzerpan breaks, just as we saw in the future on pages 715 and 757, and it’s hard to make sense of in the chaos of the flash. But as I understand it – Dave uses him to smash open the cruxtruder, then drops him outside, where his hand and orb fall off. Pillars of lightning and fire strike, and that or his wizard magic toss him back into the air. The orb hand flies, knocking Rose’s entry item off the stupidly and precariously placed alchemiter (at which point Dave is already reaching for the Eldritch Princess Doll for Tier 2 Prototyping – whose idea was this?) The bottle flies into the waterfall, and Rose knows it’ll be carried by the current. She gets a devious, calculating look and leaps after it. She catches it, and would fall to her death (?) if she wasn’t rescued by Eldritch Jaspers’ long stretchy knitted arms pulling her back to the house.

If Rose is scared here, she doesn’t show it. She has the true mad scientist ethos of being willing to do whatever it takes no matter how dangerous. And a zoologically dubious cat is the PERFECT pet/mad scientist lab assistant for her, just like OG Jaspers and Vodka Mutini might’ve been Mom’s lab assistants.

Rose’s pre-punched card being a bottle is another obvious link to Mom, who hasn’t been seen since ‘WV: Ascend’. Just like John, Rose’s card doesn’t only produce the item (bottle, apple), but also Something That Provides The Item (liquor cabinet, tree). The item is the same color and texture as the cruxite that produces it, and these special entry items work differently to all other alchemy.

I did some research on symbolism of bottles – apparently in the Bible they can symbolize preservation or fragility, and in other contexts they can symbolize the womb or confinement. There’s also the ‘message in a bottle’ idea that feels relevant since this one almost got thrown out to sea. The bottle needs to be broken for Rose to enter – or specifically, uncorked, as WV’s command station turns out to be the cork in a larger bottle buried in the ruins of Rose’s house. Uncorking (or smashing) a bottle, just like biting an apple, can’t be undone. Entering the Medium is a one way street, something is destroyed and permanently changed in the process.

Both entry items relate to food, as does the third one we know of – the ‘eggy lokin thign [sic]’ (p.240) – though as they’re all made of cruxite, they might not be edible. Rose’s bottle comes from a liquor cabinet, already a major feature of her house, and John’s apple comes from a tree, and he, too, has a tree in his yard – these things come to the Medium with them. I think as part of Sburb indexing a player’s house for the server player, transportation to the Medium, and provide options for alchemy, it also chooses an entry item tailored to the specific player, and the shared meaning of the items will become clearer when we have all four.

Rose waits until the last possible moment to smash the bottle, just like John with the apple. Unlike with John, there’s a moment where we can see Rose’s house flicker and vanish with the meteor BARELY above it, as though the whole thing was being selected with the cursor, plucked from its foundations and dragged somewhere else.

Dave

Character development moment: Dave drinks the apple juice from his closet and it isn’t piss. He also draws Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff with a mouse, and while he’s still trying to make it bad on purpose – setting the quality slider to 0 – it’s hard to draw anything recognizable with a mouse. I know that making intentionally ‘bad’ art is its own skill, but I have a lot of questions about what Dave’s ‘good’ visual art would look like, what medium he would use, and if he actually knows what he’s capable of in practice or if he’s too scared of that kind of vulnerability.

Dave gets attacked by crows mid-flash as they all burst through the gaffa taped window hole, and I think this has something to do with the beta discs. They were first stolen by a crow, which died for its efforts, and more and more crows have been circling since. And here on the same page that we see the discs appear somewhere else, the crows attack. A DISTACTION, perhaps, while something else scoops up the discs? If the OG crow turns out to want the discs for something more than just being rambunctious it will be the biggest plot twist in Homestuck.

Jade

Jade doesn’t do much! She lass scampers into the mystic ruins and takes the elevator, and I like that she suddenly looks scared when confronted with the lotus flower and countdown. She’s never seen this in a vision and doesn’t know what to do with it, and maybe for a moment – before she falls asleep – she regrets her decision to come in here. The flower opens to reveal the same white, glowing spirograph that Bec was guarding billions of years ago (p.1073), the one that the ruins possibly sprung up to protect. And when the timer ends, the spirograph drops Dave’s juice-stained beta discs, as stolen by a RAMBUNCTIOUS CROW on April 13, 2009 (p.353).

If Jade is a pawn in Skaia’s grand plan, then she does need to access the Medium – and apparently, she needs to access it while awake, not just in dreams. But the timer in Rose’s lab could have been counting for up to 10,000 years, while the mystic ruins timer could be up to 10 billion years, and the furthest we’ve seen something appearified or sendificated is a few hundred years. Setting up a time loop to the earliest days of Earth is a whole different level. Did Bec know exactly what he was guarding, or did he just know it was important? And is there anything – beyond the general importance of time loops to the story – that makes this specific pair of discs special, meaning Jade has to have these, not another set?

John

Nanna writes her note in John’s new Colonel Sassacre’s (first seen on p.759) with glowing blue text eye beams, and intentionally drops it into the void below. I originally thought the message was from pre-death Nanna as the text was black, but apparently it’s just aged. Which means that Nanna didn’t necessarily know anything about Sburb before she was prototyped, and everything could come from her NPC programming. But more importantly, this proves that the new Sassacre’s from John’s magic chest (p.8) and the aged Sassacre’s from Dad’s safe (p.542) are the same book in an extended timeloop, and from now on I’m assuming that whenever we see two of the same item, it’s the same item traveling through time. Bro’s shades + Dave’s original shades are a possibility.

We get a brief glimpse of a shimmering blue land with pockets of light below gray clouds – perhaps ‘the place where the constellations dance beneath the clouds’ where John’s ‘true work may begin’ (p.895). It looks both luminous and ominous, positioned as it is between those two planets. And seeing John’s house zoom out on pages 1150-1152 – an extension of the zoom out on page 250, where we first saw John’s house alone in the void – I’m reminded of the Wayward Vagabond’s planets on page 703. The one on the right has gray clouds too, although black instead of dark blue, so hard to say for definite.

John fights better in a suit!! I genuinely believe this – he designed an outfit for himself, and it was something that made him feel cool and mature and important, and that’s just as crucial to winning a fight as all his new weapons. And the gate is very magic portal the way it glows all around him and holds him suspended in mid air. That’s two out of three acts that have ended with John getting portaled to another location.

Final thoughts

I honestly could go on forever. While I’m obsessed with this flash, it feels more like a huge moment of change in the story than tying up throughlines of Act 3. The ‘Dear X…’ notes do get tied up here, but the other recurring ideas have been gifts/presents/the mail, the trolls and their impact on the kids’ lives, and Jade’s island/the mystic ruins as a focal point. We do see inside the mystic ruins, but in a way that only creates more mysteries, not providing closure or new information.

Instead, this flash massively advances the story, taking us through Rose’s entire process of entering the Medium and having her sprite prototyped twice, and giving Jade the Sburb discs – something that was a major quest for both John and Dave, but just happens here. Rose’s ‘Let’s make shit take place.’ (p.1148) meant way more than just starting the game – Act 4 is going to be very different now that these huge changes have happened, there are zero known barriers to Dave entering the game, and if John is going down to the sparkly blue planet it’s believable that all four of them could be in the Medium by EOA4. The possibilities feel wide open in an absolutely thrilling way.

Surely Act 4 will happen immediately, and not be interrupted by any---

[oph3liatlou]

— THE SHADOW WARRIOR series

CHAPTER TWO; Quinnjet

pairing(s); recovering!buckybarnes x oc!victoriastark

warnings; light swearing

word count; 1,363

proofread?; yes.

note from author; link to wattpad, link to character's spotify playlist (comment songs also!), find the full masterlist here.

summary; In the depths of Africa, the mysterious nation of Wakanda has reached out to the outside world for help. A mission has been set in place for Victoria Stark, to save Bucky Barnes - the former brainwashed assassin - from his past self. Can she rescue him from HYDRA's grips as the world watches and waits or, will he forever be lost to the shadows?

Victoria had to get ready for her mission that she had been tasked with. She headed back downstairs to see her father, who had just finished fixing up his suit.

Tony turns around as you enter the workshop, wiping his hands on a rag. "Done pouting upstairs?" He's trying to keep it light. The tension between you has been growing for months. He needs to fix it, but he just doesn't know how.

She rolled her eyes. Their relationship was always sarcastic banter but sometimes, he didn't agree with her decisions. Especially when she avoided his monthly functions. "I wasn't pouting." She stated, leaning on one of the shelves. "I got a mission so, scratch my name off the guest list for tomorrow night."

Tony's smile fades. He looks at you for a long moment, his expression going tight. He's not happy about you skipping yet another event. But rather than start an argument, he asks instead, "Where are you headed?"

"Wakanda." Victoria answered, not elaborating.

Tony's eyes widened, a slight flicker of surprise crossing his face. Wakanda? He hadn't expected that. "Why?" He tries to keep the tension out of his voice, but there's no hiding the concern in his eyes.

She was happy that her father hadn't started giving her attitude about her not attending the party. "Steve's friend, Bucky." She started to explain. "He's in Wakanda, the Princess is treating his conditioning - trying to demolish the Winter Solider." Victoria shrugged. "You know me and advanced technology. He thought I could help...and he wants a friend there."

Tony's worry eases slightly. He knows about Bucky, of course. The Winter Soldier, the infamous assassin. Helping to undo what HYDRA did to him wasn't something he objected to. And he understands the need for support.

He gives you a small nod. "Alright. Keep me updated. And...Victoria?" His voice goes soft. "Be careful."

She nods, turning back to the door. "Oh, and I'm bringing FRIDAY with me."

Tony raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement returning to his expression. "Bringing the bots, huh? Trying to show off your tech prowess, aren't you?" He smiles, glad to see you a little more lighthearted for the first time in a long while. "Alright. Just watch out for Wakanda's tech. They've got stuff that will knock even you on your ass."

Victoria chuckled at his comment. "You better up your own game, then." She rebutted.

Tony gives you a wry smile. "Don't worry, kid. You forget who you're dealing with here. I'll have some new goodies for when you return."

He crosses his arms. "Now, get out of here. Before I change my mind about letting you borrow Friday."

She grinned. "Yeah, yeah." And with that, she left the workshop - her feet echoed on the floating stairs that shifted under her feet as she made her way to her room to get her gear.

As Victoria ascended the floating stairs to her room, thoughts of the upcoming mission start to swirl through her mind. She begins packing her gear, making sure she has everything she might need in Wakanda. As she sorts through her supplies, a mix of anticipation and apprehension fills her. The unknown always holds a thrill, but it's also a constant reminder of the dangers that lie ahead. Despite the nerves, she can't help but feel a sense of excitement.  She's eager to see Wakanda's advanced tech and how it compares to Starks. As she packs, she notices two pictures. One is of her as a kid, asleep in her dad's embrace, and the other is her and Tony, taken not long after, on their first successful mission together. They're a team. She smiles softly before placing both pictures safely inside the bag.

With all the essentials packed, she heads towards the garage. The Quinjet is waiting for her, already fueled and prepped for takeoff. As she approaches, she can see the familiar shape of Friday's housing unit being loaded into the jet. 

"All ready to go, Tori?" She asks, her voice filled with anticipation. "I've already downloaded a comprehensive database on Wakandan technology. It's quite impressive."

Victoria nods gently, though Friday can't see her. She was secured in an earpiece in her ear. "What else should I know? About Barnes, about Wakanda...?"

"Barnes' condition is improving with the help of Wakanda's healers and tech. They've already managed to dismantle some of the indoctrination that HYDRA instilled in him," Friday informs. "As for Wakanda, they value their privacy and highly protect their technology. The Dora Milaje, the warrior women, are formidable and will likely keep a close eye on us both." She pauses. "Oh, and the food is fantastic."

Victoria chuckled. "Sadly, I'm not going there for the food." She paused when both her father and Steve stood at the entrance of the Quinjet.

Tony and Steve stood near the Quinjet, watching as Victoria approaches. Tony's expression is a mixture of concern and pride, a look she's seen time and time before. Steve, ever the serious one, nods in greeting. The two men can't help but worry about your well-being, especially for this mission.

"I'll be fine, yeah?" She said to the two of them, in reassurance. She turned to Steve. "I'll bring your best friend home."

Tony gave a small nod, his expression softening, but the worry remains in his eyes. Steve, however, gives a small, almost imperceptible smile of approval.

"We know you will," he reassures. "Be careful in Wakanda. And don't hesitate to call if you need anything."

Victoria nodded. "Sure thing." She went to go into the jet before turning back around and hugging her dad.

Tony is taken aback by her sudden show of affection. His eyes widen slightly before he quickly composes himself. He hugs her tightly, ruffling her hair affectionately. It's a rare moment of parental vulnerability from him, and he cherishes it.

"Stay safe," he whispers, holding her close for a moment more. "We still have plenty to argue over when you get back."

She chuckled. "Yeah, like who let you wear those shoes."

Tony playfully rolls his eyes.  "Kid, these shoes are a fashion statement. You wouldn't know style if it smacked you in the face." Tony pulls back, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He looks down at his worn-out sneakers, a comfortable staple in his wardrobe. "Besides, these are just... comfortable."

Steve, still standing nearby, can't help but chuckle at the exchange between the two. It's moments like this that remind everyone of the family bond they've formed over the years.

Victoria walked backwards onto the boarding ramp and snickered. "You do realize, I'm the one who did most of the draft designs for your suits?"

Tony gives her a mock-indignant look, his hand over his heart. "Are you saying my suits are outdated?" He feigns hurt, though the playful glint in his eyes reveals his true feelings.

"Maybe we should leave the redesigning to the professionals," he quips with a grin. "Besides, we can't all pull off the casual sneaker-and-suit look."

Steve piped up, waving goodbye to me with a chuckle. "You definitely can't, Tony."

Tony rolls his eyes but can't resist a smile. "Keep it up, Cap. I could always program Friday to play baby shark on infinite loop in your helmet next time we're in the field."

"Hey Friday, keep that as a note." Victoria chuckled loudly...getting onto the Quinjet.

Friday's holographic form appears, shimmering beside you. "Noted," she assures Victoria, her voice filled with digital amusement. "Any other requests for Captain Rogers, while you're at it?"

Victoria smiled. "I'll think of something."

With a final farewell wave, the Quinjet's door seals shut behind her. She's enclosed in the sleek interior, the hum of the engines signaling that the adventure is just beginning.

As the Quinjet soars into the sky, heading towards the unknown lands of Wakanda, Victoria is filled with mixed emotions: excitement, anticipation, and a touch of anxiety. But as long as she's got Friday and her wits, she knows that she's ready for whatever comes her way.

[tenaciouschronicler]

Feburary 1-4 2025 2010

A whole bunch of shit happens that we already saw.

A stab first ask questions later approach is really good for avoiding paradoxes. Slick is very detail oriented in this regard, whether from dealing with the Felts time shenanigans or just his nature, taking note of a clock being or not being destroyed to orient himself to the timeline.

Finally Slick incapacitates Sawbuck without further injuries and time jumps.

Some little bit of character building that I like is seeing Slick try and come up with witty one liners. Hes not patient enough to make his attempts any good, and he has a hard time coming up with them on the spot. Im also leaning towards Slick naming his weapons himself to try and make one liners.

Moving on, Slick takes the time to update his hit list with current deaths and expected ones adding in a doodle of Snowman. On that point, I know this intermission is darker than the main comic but I was not expecting the gruesome decapitation gif.

9/15 GREEN TORSOS DEAD

2/9 GREEN TORSOS DEADENED TWICE

1/15 GREEN TORSOS DEAD FOR THE FIRST TIME, BUT IT'S AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE TORSO, SO YOU GUESS MAYBE IT DOESN'T COUNT(?)

One death indeed does not count since this timelines Stitch is alive. Droog says as much when he and Slick start hashing out the current state of affairs. Droog has Stitch making effigies of the MC and their hats so he and Deuce are aware of Slicks injury.

I wonder what has to be done to designate an effigy to someone. Visually the only difference is a little bit of height and the hats but theres gotta be more to it. Either way Droog has Stitch fix the effigies eye but it doesnt work correctly.

Your sprite was flipped the wrong way.

I find this really interesting. It seems the effigies are static in placement and without knowing exactly how someone is facing repairs can be done to the wrong side. Im curious why that is. They undo the stitching and Slick faces the correct direction gaining the scar weve seen echoes of.

Getting his bearings, Slick takes the time to admire Snowmans Lance. "She'll have to pry this thing from your rigid severed arm if she wants it back." Foreshadowing anyone? Im telling you, the injuries Slick is obtaining are more than coincidence. There has to be an underlying reason for this to have a focus.

That aside, Slick takes another moment to follow a nonsensical command.

You can't BELIEVE she saw you horsing around like that. You will never live this down.

Lmao, absolute peak comedy. Especially when the focus goes to Snowman and she just fades out. 10/10 reaction. Now she'll never take you seriously as a threat.

After that display, the MC are finally gathering around the safe and ridding themselves of the multiplying Eggs and Biscuits. Stitch almost manages to make a break and get revenge but Slick has great timing.

So we are gonna dig into this a little. @homestuckreplay has said that theres lots of bits that are callbacks to Problem Sleuth and now we are getting links to pages from that comic to hammer that home. On top of that @reeseskups also had this to say:

So it seems to me that in a way the link to PS is supposed to mirror the Years In The Future posts we had with WV. Furthermore, while I dont think Hussie will tie the two comics, theres no doubt that we are supposed to come away from this with an understanding that there will be a time where everyone weve seen so far will be in the same place/time. It does also add something I was wondering about the seemingly out of character moments of Slicks nonsensical actions. In a way hes the reverse of WV who was also an 'outside' the narrative character. While WV gained autonomy after joining the narrative and is being gently led by it, Slick is being shackled by the narrative and being forced into the path it wants. This makes them great foils on this comics journey and echoes the sentiments I made about the beta kids own roles in the narrative back in my comparison essay.

All that aside back to the intermission, the explosion from the future is now the present killing Trace and Doze bringing everyone to the same point in time at last. Only five members, not counting English, are alive. It seems we are getting closer to the end of this intermission.

[drunkenlyamess]

⊹₊⟡⋆ Richie Tozier multi ff

⊹₊⟡⋆ Richie Rozier x m!oc

⊹₊⟡⋆ CW- Drinking, cussing, mentions of body dysmorphia, mloc is low-key a horrible person, enemies to lovers, homophobia, bullying, smoking, questioning of sexuality, misogyny, blood, slurs.

⊹₊⟡⋆ AN- Scotty thinks he’s so mysterious, and cool. I also love writing for a dead fandom! It also won’t let me link the thing to the first chapter so like idk

01 ← → 03

02

SCOTTY moved through the crowded hallways, dodging and weaving around groups of students who were gathered in huddled clusters, talking in loud, animated voices. The air felt thick with the cloying mix of cheap perfume, body odor, and the faint, acrid undertone of sweat. The heat from the summer sun outside seeped through the cracked windows, making everything feel heavier, as though the stench was being trapped in the tight, overheated space. Every step he took felt like he was moving through a swamp, the air oppressive and suffocating.

His last class of the day had been a blur—a haze of half-hearted chatter and barely absorbed notes. Most people were too caught up in the talk about the missing kids. It was all anyone was talking about. Scotty didn’t care much for the rumors; they all sounded the same. But it seemed like everyone else in the school had their own theory about what had happened. Maybe that’s why they all passed notes or whispering in corners, desperate for something to believe.

As he moved through the throng of bodies, his eyes fell on a familiar sight—his sister, walking with her little group of friends. They were clustered together in their own world, talking about some Jewish thing. But it was the group around her that caught his attention. Eddie Kaspbrak was there, the one kid who always looked like he was on edge—constantly wiping his hands with hand sanitizer, checking everything around him like it was a ticking time bomb. Scotty had never been able to understand Eddie, always a germaphobe, always frantic about cleanliness. He remembered once watching Eddie go into a full-on rant when Scotty had sneezed into his hand instead of into his elbow, the poor kid turning pale and going off about how germs would spread and how disgusting it was. Scotty couldn’t help but find the whole thing odd, almost pathetic.

Then there was Bill Denbrough, the kid who always seemed a little sadder than the rest. Bill had that heavy air of someone who had lost too much. His brother had gone missing, and it had left a mark on him. Bill’s words were always slow and deliberate, the stutter that dragged his speech out like a weight he could never fully shake off. Scotty didn’t know Bill too well, but he felt a faint pit of pity for him, not because of the stutter but because of the brother who was probably dead somewhere—lost to whatever twisted fate had taken him. But beyond that, Scotty never really thought much about Bill. He was just another kid in the hallway, a face in the crowd.

And then his gaze landed on Richie Tozier.

The sight of him made Scotty’s stomach turn, a dull knot of unease twisting in his gut. Richie was standing at the edge of the group, that joking, overconfident grin on his face. He was loud, he was obnoxious, and worst of all, he flirted with Scotty’s sister. He couldn’t stand the way Richie’s voice got all teasing when he talked to her, joking about his sister in dirty ways. The kid was a dirty, loudmouth joke, and Scotty hated that he even had to be in the same room as him.

Scotty felt the faintest breeze stir the air as someone passed too close, brushing against him. He barely turned his head, but enough to catch a glimpse of Stanley, another one of Jen’s friends. The kid always seemed to float around the edges of the group, a silent observer, always there but never really noticed. All Scotty really knew about Stanley was that he was Jewish—something he never really thought much about, he didn’t really think about religion. He let out a scoff, the sound escaping his lips involuntarily, an expression of disgust that slipped out without thought.

Stanley slid seamlessly into the group, his presence registering with Jen and her friends as they began to question about whatever they talked about. They continued to walk slowly, absorbed in their own chatter, like the world was moving at a pace that suited them. Scotty felt an instant irritation flare inside him. He couldn’t stand the way they just meandered through the hallways, dragging their feet, acting like there was nowhere to be, nothing to do. The constant hum of their voices made his skin itch.

With an exasperated huff, Scotty pushed forward, forcing his way through the group, his shoulder connecting roughly with Jen’s. He didn’t care how hard he shoved him—Jen barely flinched as she was nudged his eyes were locked on his sister, Jen.

“Walk faster you asswipe.” he snapped, his voice sharp and full of irritation. The words were meant for Jen, but they were aimed at everyone in the group. The sound of his voice cut through the noise for just a second. Jen looked up, her brow furrowing as she glanced at him, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes. She opened her mouth, probably to tell him to fuck off, but Scotty didn’t wait around to listen.

He kept walking, not slowing down, heading toward the stairs. The group behind him seemed to shift around, but Scotty didn’t care. He shoved through more bodies as he descended, each step down the stairs feeling like an escape, a release from the pressure that was slowly building inside him. The sound of shoes against the tiled floor echoed in the hallway, and Scotty’s movements grew more aggressive, pushing through people with little care for their discomfort.

As he neared the bottom of the stairs, the unmistakable sound of Richie’s voice reached him from behind. The comment was loud, deliberately so, and Scotty could almost picture Richie smirking to himself as he said it.

“What stick is up his ass?” Richie’s voice rang out, dripping with sarcasm, and Scotty felt his jaw clench involuntarily.

His fingers curled into fists, the urge to turn around and confront Richie almost overwhelming. But Scotty didn’t. He just kept walking, the muscles in his jaw tightening even more. He wasn’t going to give Richie the satisfaction of knowing that he heard his snotty comment. He just carried on, ignoring the murmurs behind him, the lingering presence of everyone else in the hallway.

Scotty finally reached the school doors, the familiar sight of the heavy glass panels looming in front of him. With a firm push, he swung them open, feeling the weight of the door resist for a moment before giving way. As soon as he stepped outside, the summer air hit him like a wall. The warm breeze tugged at his clothes and pressed against his face, the sunlight so intense it made his nose wrinkle instinctively. He squinted against the brightness, the sun’s rays strong enough to sting the back of his eyes. It was that kind of hot, sticky summer afternoon, the kind where you could almost feel the heat radiating off the pavement.

His eyes scanned the crowd of students, the usual mix of kids walking in groups or heading to their bikes. It only took a few seconds for his gaze to land on them, standing together in the same spot they always did, right by the school’s main entrance. group was clustered tightly, chatting and laughing like they always did after school.

Without missing a beat, his feet started moving toward them, a familiar rhythm carrying him across the blacktop. His sneakers scuffed against the ground, the sound of his quick pace blending with the noise of the other kids around him.

As he got closer, his hand reached out, finding Jet’s shoulder in an effortless grab. With a practiced swing, he pulled himself into the tight-knit circle of friends, his body sliding into place with ease.

“Yo,” Scotty said, his voice casual as he slid into the group. It was his standard greeting, one that made it clear he was going to act like nothing had happened that morning. No apologies, no explanations. He wasn’t one to let anything bother him for long, especially not if it meant admitting he was wrong.

David, who had been silently watching the scene unfold in front of the school, spoke up next, his voice low as he pointed toward a woman standing by a row of police cars. “Betty Ripsom’s mom is here,” he said, his tone carrying a mix of curiosity and sympathy. The woman stood there rigidly, her eyes scanning the steady stream of students filing out of the school, her face a mask of worry and frustration.

Scotty glanced over at her, rolling his eyes. “She knows she ain’t gonna see Betty come outta here,” he said with a scoff, letting go of Jet’s shoulder and taking a step back. “She’s probably dead somewhere.” His tone bland as if he oblivious, but it was clear he was speaking from pure assumption.

“You don’t know that,” Tina snapped, her voice sharp with frustration. Her brows furrowed deeply, creating a crease in her forehead as she glared at the others. The displeasure was clear on her face—her lips pressed into a tight line, and her arms crossed defensively over her chest.

Jet, who had been watching the back-and-forth with quiet amusement, finally spoke up. “Come on, you know he’s probably right, Tina,” he said, his voice casual, almost too easy. He shot her a sidelong glance, his hands tucked into his pockets.

Tina’s frustration bubbled over at their dismissive attitude. “Y’all are such dicks,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head in disbelief. It was clear she wasn’t just annoyed—she was hurt by the fact that they could so easily write Betty off, they knew Betty they had classes with Betty.

Without waiting for a response, Tina scoffed and turned away from the group. Her footsteps were quick, purposeful, the sound of her sneakers slapping against the pavement louder than usual as she stormed off.

“Oh my god, are you on your period or something?” Scotty called out as he turned around to watch her leave throwing his hands up in the air, only to met with the finger of Tina’s.

Scotty took the hit to the chest, the force of it knocking the breath out of him. He staggered back a bit, but Jet didn't seem impressed. Jet shook his head, the disappointment clear on his face. "You knew that was wrong, man," he said, his voice carrying an edge of frustration.

Scotty didn’t respond immediately, but David awkwardly nodded in agreement, his gaze shifting uncomfortably between the two. Jet let out a heavy sigh, clearly done with the back-and-forth. "You’ve been acting like a total jerk off, Scott," he added, his voice softer now, but still firm.

Scotty let out a short, almost derisive laugh. "Oh, whatever," he muttered, trying to brush it off, but it was clear Jet and David weren’t buying it. The silence that followed felt like a weight pressing down on him. They both turned their backs, walking off toward Tina without another word.

Scott watched them go, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t say anything. He was used to being alone at this point, and it didn’t bother him like it used to. Sure, things had been rough—his drinking, his attitude, the constant failures, the addictions—but he wasn’t about to admit any of it. He didn’t need them. Didn’t need anyone. He’d figure it out on his own, just like always. It was whatever.

Scotty’s gaze wandered lazily across the school grounds, his attention catching on his sister, Jennifer, and her group of friends. They were standing a fair distance away by the row of rusted trashcans, Henry and his little friends pushing the group around.

He rolled his eyes, an involuntary sigh escaping his lips. His patience, already thin, yes he wasn’t close to his sister but his mom would kill him if he ever knew he allowed his sister be hurt. Scotty pushed his hands into his pockets and started toward them, his steps deliberate and heavy.

As Scotty drew closer, he noticed Henry seemed to be walking away, his back turned, But before he could fully disappear into the crowd, Bill a lanky kid with a perpetual scowl—suddenly piped up. “You suck, Bowers!” Bill stuttered, his voice sharp with anger. It was as if the words were forced out of him, a weak attempt at standing his ground.

Scotty’s eyebrows furrowed slightly in response, that was the first time he seen the kid stick up for himself. But then, just as quickly, a small, almost amused smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Eddie who was standing slightly behind Bill, shot him a quick, fearful look and muttered, “Shut up.” Eddie’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried enough weight to cut through the tension his voice was small.

The atmosphere between the group grew tense as Henry, Belch, and Patrick turned sharply to face Bill, their eyes narrowing with growing annoyance. Bill, still standing there with his hand outstretched, stammered nervously, his words tripping over themselves. “Y-y-y-y-say something, B-B-Billy?” Henry mocked, a smirk spreading across his face as he leaned in closer.

Bill took a step back, visibly uncomfortable, but before he could respond, Henry’s taunt filled the air. The rest of the gang, including Belch and Patrick, chuckled quietly behind him, their attention shifting from Bill to the more interesting target: Scotty.

“You heard him,” Scotty scoffed from a few feet away, his voice dripping with disdain. A small laugh escaped his lips, a sound that made Henry’s smile falter for just a moment.

Henry, still grinning, shifted his gaze upward and locked eyes with Scotty. His lips curled into a mocking smile as he quoted back, “You s-s-suck, Bowers.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, an attempt to belittle him.

Before Scotty could react further, Henry shoved Bill aside roughly, sending the lanky kid stumbling to the side. The move was swift and deliberate.

With an almost predatory grin, Henry closed the space between them, getting right in Scotty’s face. “Nobody was talking to you,you useless alcoholic” he spat, his breath hot and heavy on Scotty’s cheek causing scotty to wipe his cheek from any spit that touched his cheek.

“Well, you’re quite loud, so everyone can hear your big mouth,” Scotty shot back. The words were barely out of his mouth when Henry’s hand shot out, shoving Scotty hard in the chest. Scotty stumbled back, the sudden force throwing him off balance, his feet scrambling to regain traction on the cracked pavement as he finally stood up right he shoved him back.

Henry made a quick recovery from his stumble, Henry lunged forward, his left fist connecting sharply with Scotty’s cheek. The impact was fast and brutal, sending a sting through Scotty’s face, his head snapping to the side. The force of the punch left him momentarily disoriented, stumbling back landing on his ass which was definitely gonna leave a bruise.

“Your dad is watching,” Scotty muttered, his voice heavy with a mix of frustration and sarcasm, a painful laugh escaping his lips. He winced slightly from the sting on his cheek, his eyes flicking to the side as he caught sight of Henry's face suddenly freezing, his cocky grin faltering.

Henry’s eyes shot upward, his gaze locking onto something beyond Scotty. For a moment, there was a brief flicker of hesitation before he saw what Scotty had already noticed. Just across the parking lot, outside the cop cruiser, sat Henry’s father. The cruiser was parked near the street, and the engine was off, but the car was perfectly positioned to keep a sharp eye on Henry and his little friends.

Henry’s father sat there, unblinking, with his dark sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he moved them down to stare at his son. He didn’t need to say a word. His gaze alone was enough to make Henry feel like prey under the eyes of a hawk. It was a look of warning—cold, piercing, and unforgiving. Henry’s stomach sank as his father’s stare drilled into him with unnerving intensity.

“This summer’s gonna be a hurt train for you and your faggot friends,” Henry said leaning in close to Bill, his hand coming up to swipe across his tongue, and then, with a mocking grin, he smeared the saliva across Bill’s cheek. Bill recoiled instantly, his face scrunching in disgust. Without another word, he turned sharply, nodding to Belch and Patrick to follow him.

“Fuck that hurt,” Scotty groaned, wincing as he tried to push himself up from the ground. The pain from Henry's punch still throbbed in his cheek, but there were other bruises now, too—each one a reminder of the mess he’d gotten himself into. Reaching out to help him to his feet. Richie, always quick to jump in, grabbed his arms, trying to pull him up as well. But with a sharp tug, he yanked his arms out of Richie’s grip and pushed himself up on his own, the movement a little unsteady but determined.

Jen shot him a look, her expression a mix of concern and frustration. “You know Mom is gonna kill you, right?” she scolded, running a hand through her hair in frustration. The words were almost rehearsed, but Scotty could see the genuine worry in her eyes.

Scotty didn’t bother to answer right away. Instead, he just winced, his hand coming up to gingerly touch the bruise on his cheek, still sore from Henry’s left hook. “You owe me,” was all he muttered, the words laced with a mixture of annoyance. His voice was tight from the pain, but he wasn’t about to let anyone see just how badly it hurt.

Jen opened her mouth to argue, but Eddie, ever the overthinker, jumped in before she could. “You know that can get infected, right?” he started quickly, his voice panicked , his hands reaching in his fanny-pack probably looking for his inhaler. “My mom once told me—”

“Thank you, Scotty,” Bill interjected abruptly, cutting Eddie off before the rambling could go any further. Bill’s voice was stilted, awkward,

Scotty gave him a glance, his face a mask of indifference. Bill’s words meant little to him. Instead, Scotty let out a quick, almost dismissive laugh, then spun on his heel. Without saying another word, he started walking away.

01 ← → 03

[jazlynriddle]

Deleted Scenes Ch 5:

In light of Time & Hope

Summary:

Anne wasn't the only one who changed after the curse, Ominis swallowed the words, grieving once more for the brief happiness they'd had together.

A series of fill in snippets of interactions between Sebastian and Ominis in-between quests, starting with Ominis confronting Sebastian after he catches Main Character leaving the Undercroft.

Ending with a longer epilogue chapter that takes place post-game, where Sebastian and Ominis find a way to move on and mend their friendship.

Warnings: Spoilers

Link to AO3 can be found here (with additional tags)

Notes:

I really hate that we don’t get to see the conversation where Main Character tells Sebastian that Ancient magic will not be a feasible cure for Anne.

Like, why!? It’s the pivotal bridge between the main story and this character story, to propel Sebastian with desperation further into the grasp of the relic, and they didn’t put it in. I don’t understand this decision.

I also feel like people tend to forget that Sebastian is a kid. At fifteen, I certainly was a mess of hormones and mood swings, much less an orphaned kid with separation anxiety from his twin sister who is suffering from chronic pain.

Ominis turned onto his side with a frustrated huff, the day had been long and tiring, yet here he was, tossing and turning in his bed while sleep eluded him. The sound of two sets of footsteps striding past him on uneven stone, echoed in his mind over and over again.

Their friend had told him afterwards about what happened after they and Sebastian left the catacombs. He couldn’t believe that Sebastian had cast the Imperius curse, in front of his uncle no less!

He shouldn't have let them leave, the thought came with a burst of guilt. If they hadn't left, Anne might have died.

No, it wasn’t like that, and yet, he could not deny that he needed Sebastian by his side more than he feared for Anne's life. If Sebastian was expelled… Ominis shook his head, recoiling from the mere idea.

He had a feeling that things were only getting worse. Sebastian's mood over the last few weeks had been nearly bipolar, first he seemed increasingly agitated and frustrated, then he seemed hopeful with a spring in his step, and then he was back to brooding.

Ominis wanted so badly to help Sebastian, but he didn't know what to do. He hadn't felt this helpless since he was a child curled up in his bed, trying to shut out the sounds of agonised screaming.

All he could do was watch and trust their friend, who seemed even more erratic than Sebastian lately. They were rarely in the school outside of classes, always showing up looking exhausted, distracted and with bandages in different spots every time he saw them.

Ominis was pretty sure that Sebastian was starting to accompany them on whatever dangerous venture they were on too. He really hoped he was placing his faith in the right person.

Sebastian flung yet another Confringo at the candelabras in the Undercroft. Why did every shred of hope he found always lead to nothing!?

He let the heat from the spell radiate across his arm, not nearly as hot as the fury and frustration in his chest. Sighing, he took a step back, leaning against one of the pillars.

He had gotten his hopes up after seeing that memory of Isidora taking away her father's pain. If only it could be that easy. It had taken all his willpower to hold in his anger until his friend had left, after they told him that removing pain with Ancient magic also removes every other emotion.

That would not help Anne, he wanted her to go back to normal, not change even more. Sebastian felt another surge of frustration, grabbing a crate beside him and hurtling it across the room to smash against the wall.

He breathed heavily, grinding the heels of his palms into his temples. Nothing for it then, Sebastian took a deep breath, he would just have to go back to the relic option.

He had hoped that his friend's Ancient magic would turn out to be the solution, after he realised what he'd need to do with the relic. Even he had hesitated when he realised what it entailed. However, it seemed that he would have no choice.

His friend had rushed off towards Hogsmead after delivering the explanation, something about needing to see Olivander. Sebastian had offered to go with them, back them up in the war against Ranrock, but they'd told him it was too dangerous.

Truly, they were a good friend, busy trying to save the world and still taking the time to help him. Bearing with his mood swings and supporting him, when it was his sister who needed saving, not theirs.

It was embarrassing, but it was only as his friend left the Undercroft, their shoulders set like the weight of the world were upon them, that he’d realised how childish he’d been behaving. There they were carrying so many burdens and yet they’d taken the time to help him with his own. The way he’d treated them while they were trying to complete the triptych was now a source of shame to him.

He’d behaved like a git, like their aid for his sister was a given rather than a gift. It was only when they'd rebuked him that he'd realised how much he'd needed them. How much he'd relied on them up to this point.

Their words to him that night as they trekked up the mountain had taken some reflecting to fully sink in and he was grateful that they had taken the time to reason with him rather than simply abandon him. Without them, he would never have found the relic and he was at a loss as to how he could possibly repay their kindness.

Sebastian walked over to the table where the relic sat. He considered waiting for his friend to return before proceeding with the ritual. Having them by his side would be a great comfort and assurance, it was tempting to lean once again on their dependable shoulders.

However, he also knew that if he hesitated too long, Solomon would take his sister far away from him. Possibly out of his reach.

No, he could not afford to delay. He'd relied on their goodwill for too long anyway. He needed to stop depending on everyone around him to solve his problems for him. This was his burden, he could be strong, like them, and solve his problems himself.

He knew Anne wanted Ominis around for the ritual, but this could be dangerous. He didn't need to involve and endanger their friend or Ominis. Anne was his responsibility and Sebastian was going to cure her.

No matter what happened to him.

Notes:

It's really annoying when our dialogue options we can select are extremely different from what the Main Character actually says, like how does “That was cruel.” translate to “Your uncle was right, you don’t know when to stop!” That’s not even in the same vein of logic!

Also, the dialogue options for Shadow of Time are ridiculous.

If you choose to convince Ominis, Main Character tells Ominis that we let Sebastian leave under the condition that Sebastian goes no further yet we didn’t tell Sebastian this at all. So, Seb "breaks a promise" that we made that he would never have agreed to. Bruh.

If you choose to use the Imperius curse on Ominis, well, am I the only one who finds it hilarious that, you tell Ominis to “stay in place until we’re out of sight”? It should wear off instantly!

[girl4music]

“Earlier in this video I claimed that Majora’s Mask is a perfect commentary on trauma. And while Link’s healing journey through Termina is one reason for making this claim, what really makes Majora’s Mask stand out is the contrast between how Link and the Skull Kid respond to their traumas. Whereas Link’s actions throughout Majora’s Mask demonstrate the healthy and necessary aspects of trauma recovery, Skull Kid’s actions illustrate how not to cope with trauma if we want to live a life worth living. For this reason, Dr. Herman’s three-phase model of recovery is no longer relevant. So when speaking about the Skull Kid I will reference another psychological model. This one from the realm of conflict resolution. The Circle of Aggression and Reconciliation created by Olga Bacharova. This diagram illustrates not only how one can move from aggression to reconciliation but also how one can get trapped in aggression for, potentially, ever. Bacharova notes that the inner cycle of the diagram demonstrates how natural human responses to harm may move people from being victims to becoming aggressors, and Skull Kid perfectly personifies this movement from victim to villain. You see, Skull Kid’s friends The Giants have left him behind and Skull Kid feels abandoned. This abandonment leads to intense pain and eventually anger. To use Bacharova’s words: “anger has a legitimate yet irrational nature”. To use my own words, even justified anger has a will of its own. No matter how righteous our rage may be, if we allow anger to control our lives forever, it will inevitably cause more pain and suffering. But let’s be honest. Anger is useful. If we are sad we generally lay down, cry or collapse. But if we are angry we tend to take action. Anger gives us energy to move, to make change. And if we are fresh off the heels of a traumatizing event, anger can feel like the only emotion that might keep us going when we would otherwise want to break down. And so it is easy to imagine that Skull Kid would indulge his anger to give himself some relief. Some sense of power and agency against his backdrop of loss. Whereas Link regains his sense of self by healing the pain of others, Skull Kid regains his sense of self by partaking in petty acts of anger and revenge. Unfortunately anger is seductive and addictive. Because of its energy and its usefulness anger can be easily justified and easily abused. And this is the trap that Skull Kid finds himself within throughout Majora’s Mask. With every crime or transgression he commits he assures himself that it’s okay because he is a victim. The more he reassures himself of his righteousness, the more bold and destructive his behaviour becomes. And Skull Kid isn’t just angry with The Giants. He’s angry with the entire world. And this is pretty common. As Bacharova notes; “sometimes anger is directed towards outsiders who are unable to prevent the loss or even towards others who did not experience a similar loss”. I.E. the whole world is seen as hostile.

All of the characters in Majora’s Mask suffer but for some reason Skull Kid seems to believe that his suffering is unique. Somehow more important than the pain of everyone else. Anger has a way of doing that. This tendency understandably causes him to feel isolated and it also allows him to justify his destructive behaviours. These behaviours repel others including his only friends; Tatl and Tael which further isolates him. In other words, Skull Kid’s actions become a self-fulfilling prophecy. What he really wants is the sense of connection he lost when The Giants departed but his anger at their abandonment and his subsequent bad behaviour pushes everyone away. I have to be honest - I feel bad for the Skull Kid. Bacharova says that: “subconsciously, victims want to restore the sense of deep human connectedness destroyed by conflict. In order to make the wrongdoer understand the pain of the victim, he needs to experience a similar suffering. So as twisted as it may sound Skull Kid’s acts of terror are actually just unhealthy attempts to restore his sense of connection with others. He is lonely and afraid and he wants others to feel pain because he is in pain. And if everyone is in pain, maybe he won’t feel so lonely. Whereas Link connects with others by helping, Skull Kid connects with others by hurting. But of course, by trying to connect with others by hurting them Skull Kid experiences more rejection and more abandonment which causes him more pain and invokes more anger and aggression - so he just keeps cycling. This is why Bacharova’s diagram shows a potential for the cycle of aggression to cycle endlessly. It is very difficult, although not impossible, to escape the cycle of aggression once it has started. It is perfectly self-containing and perfectly self-replicating.

In my opinion, Skull Kid, or Majora, if you like, is the most terrifying villain in the Zelda franchise because his desires are so unquenchable. Whereas Ocarina Of Time’s Ganondorf is motivated by power, Majora is motivated by his own pain. If a villain is motivated by a power, we can negotiate with them by giving them power or taking it away. For example in Ocarina Of Time there are people who can stay on Ganondorf’s good side by playing into his vanity and treating him as their leader. In Majora’s Mask, there are no such characters. While there are some shady people who take advantage of the chaos left in Skull Kid’s wake, there are no characters who ally themselves with the Skull Kid. To have friends or allies would take away his feelings of abandonment and therefore his feelings of victimhood and therefore his anger and therefore his power. In this way Skull Kid can be seen as having no weaknesses because the more pain we inflict upon him, the more anger he feels, and the more anger he feels, the more powerful he becomes. So how can we possibly stop him?”

I always find Zelda games to be more significant and profound than most other single-player RPG games. It’s part of the reason it’s my favourite game series of all-time. The creators are always creating stories that allow the main protagonist (and the player as an extension) to find some type of psychological reward to their endeavours over a specifically physical one. I mean the two may and often do come and go together but it’s always the psychological reward that is the most compelling reason to play the games for me.

Majora’s Mask in particular leaves you only with the psychological reward for the most part. But - as you said - you really don’t pick this up about it immediately, if ever - it’s something that settles into you as you return to playing the game the older that you get. And I always prefer art/entertainment of any format that has the consumer grow with it in that they continue to find more and more meaning each time they engage with it rather than just have meaning for them in a specific place in time. Or just the once. In a sense Majora’s Mask is a timeless experience in an overall narrative that focuses specifically on time. The time it takes to do something, the time it takes to achieve a certain goal…. Only for it all to be undone when the clock strikes twelve three days later. And it is frustrating and it is debilitating. You feel like you aren’t doing enough even when you’ve expended every bit of energy you have left on your objectives. It ultimately doesn’t mean anything to get it done. To save the day. The physical reward does not do anything for you or for anyone really because it’s constantly taken from you when time resets itself.

But that is what it feels like to be locked inside trauma. It does feel like a cycle that never ends. And Majora’s Mask captures that experience accurately even for those who do not have internalized trauma. And it is a game that stands out in and of itself even within the franchise to which it belongs in and to. ‘The Legend Of Zelda’ is always a unique experience with each game you play because it almost always involves the human condition - which is always viewed and handled differently depending on the individual. But Majora’s Mask is a game that only feels fulfilling when you’ve forgotten that of which you think needs to be. When you’ve given up looking for an answer and just kept moving regardless of the reward or destination. It’s why I believe it’s not really a children’s game because in some ways it’s like playing a psychological horror game like any of the Silent Hills. It is frightening, it is traumatising, it is an unpleasant experience for the most part when playing the game.

And that’s precisely the point. The creators are asking you to feel something as you play it. Not to just simply play it. Because that’s an empty goal. There is no reason to even complete this game and you may never do so… I certainly never have. But I appreciate the attempt to get us to look inward and understand that completion is pretty meaningless when you’re psychologically stuck in a cycle that you can’t get out of. The only reward is the psychological one and you may never get it or you may always get it. It really depends on you as the player/engager of it.

All true art/entertainment creators seek more from its creation than to simply just be art/entertainment. But very few creators will take away any sense of satisfaction at all in anyone interacting with their creation in order to get that higher result or greater response from it. To leave a psychological impact. And the reason why is that people don’t like to be preached to. They don’t want to go that deep in. They want an escape from real life situations and circumstances such as trauma. They don’t want to literally purchase a reason to dive in and address it. And that’s their prerogative and right. However, for me, it will always mean so much more to me that way because the only reason I do interact/engage with art/entertainment - particularly of a visual format - is so that I can learn more about life and the human condition. Understand it’s difficulties and complexities. Study it’s vastness and variation in how it’s experienced by so many different people of so many different backgrounds and how it informs and influences them to see or think or feel a certain way.

That’s always interesting to me, fascinating even. But so many people prefer art/entertainment to be basic and straight-forward. Not complicated and layered. And again - there’s nothing wrong with that. Art/entertainment is a medium that should be useful or beneficial in many numbers of ways, however deep or shallow, but I’m just saying I prefer it to be the latter because the psychological reward is what I want most out of it. I want to be able to acknowledge and address my traumas, complexes or emotions, as well as come to be aware of and understand other peoples. I want the heavy, I want the hard, I want the heartache. Maybe it seems masochistic and tragic to others to want that in art/entertainment and that’s fair to say… but that’s just me. What can I say? I’m a glutton for pain so long as I get some kind of catharsis out of it. A good cry or a motivation to act or to FEEL SOMETHING. To learn and to evolve through it. To understand self and other just that little bit better because of it. I have no other such requirement out of it but to LEARN. Yes, that’s always the point for me.

Thanks for this analysis. I think you were spot on. Especially about Skull Kid. It is as I always say: hurt people hurt people. And the only healing we can possibly do when it comes to that case is within. As my favourite TV show of all-time ‘Xena: Warrior Princess’ has taught me: “there’s only one way to end the cycle of hatred and it’s through love and forgiveness”. And it’s not an easy thing to do at all. As awful as the things people with this kind of trauma do to us, we have to remind ourselves that everyone has a story and some understanding goes a long way despite how hurt we feel by their actions and choices. We don’t have to forgive them for their sake, as you pointed out. But we do owe it to ourselves to do this or we can’t heal from that cycle of hatred either. And hope - maybe in some way or form - they will change.

[catholic-character-tournament]

I'm Enrico Pucci's fan(atic) as long as I can breathe, but I must know, how many times has my boy Claude Frollo been submitted?

And I mean the REAL Claude Frollo!!! NOT the twisted caricature of Disney's greedy hands. How many submissions of the làd?

(TYSM for running this poll, by the way. I love this concept.)

So Frollo(all versions) is in there 6 times (and Claudine Frollo is in there once). 1 person has specifically noted they're talking about book Frollo and another person is requesting the original musical Frollo.

Propaganda 1:

I love him so much. More seriously Book Frollo is much more ambivalent than Disney Movie Frollo which makes sense because we're talking about Victor Hugo VS a children's movie. He didn't kill Quasimodo's mom, he took him in (when himself was only nineteen and already in charge of his own baby brother since their parents had died not long before) when he was left on the church's doorstep. I mean, he does quite a few reprehensible and slightly evil stuff afterwards but he had a good start, you know ? He taught Quasi to communicate by signs when he became deaf because of the bells. He was also very much into alchemy which was pretty cool. His behavior towards Esmeralda was still very much not okay but I'd like to point out that Phoebus is also a jerk in this one. And Quasi's quite a bit amoral because no intelligent enough to understand some stuff

Propaganda 2:

I actually haven't gotten very far through the book yet but from the musical (not the disney one the other one it's SO GOOD) I can confirm he sucks at being catholic. literally tells a child over and over that he's ugly and unlovable until he fully believes it and won't let the kid go outside. https://genius.com/Alan-menken-out-there-lyrics (lyrics to the song in which frollo convinces quasimodo he's unlovable. ableist as hell and shitty in every way you can possibly imagine and it breaks my heart every time. feel free to listen to the actual track but it doesn’t get good until about 40 seconds in) frollo keeps saying it's good and right to punish sinners himself, and it's not right that the wicked go unpunished. there's a really satisfying moment in the musical where quasimodo sees him for what he is and repeats his words back to him (7:45 - 8:54, frollo is the one with the insanely deep voice) and it gives me goosebumps every time to hear that "yes you do" link to that video: https://youtu.be/HL7WZcTIgus

However, no one has specifically requested the Disney version? This is what I've gotten:

Would Frollo people get mad at me if I combined all these and entered Book/Musical Frollo? I feel like an adult version is more interesting and even if most people only know the Disney version, they're at least familiar with a version of Frollo, and those who do know the real Frollo will like it more.

And of course!! I'm having a lot of fun! There's a fun balance of "yeah this cat is catholic seems legit" and "this blorbo is so traumatized look at how they willingly give their sweat and love to do God's work"

[hauntedmilkshakeghost]

Waffles and Pancakes

Pairing: Jim Hopper x Reader

Summary: You and Jim have been sneaking around but it’s finally time for you to sit down and meet El

Warnings: just cute little fluff and secret relationships being outed, age gap

Notes: This feral Thursday is fluffy! @ssahotchswifemain asked for double date with El and Mike while dating Hopper 😋 this is also a little shorter than my normal stuff because I was struggling tbh 😩😩😩

“Is she gone?” You whisper, clutching the sheets to your chest as you bend over to try and make yourself smaller.

“Mhmm, gone with Max.” He mumbles around his cigarette.

“Jim……we gotta stop hiding this from her.” You sigh, relaxing back against the bed as he walks back to the bed.

“I know……just feels weird to tell her about my dating life.” He sighs too, climbing back in bed with you and pulling you into his chest.

“She’s 13, she has a boyfriend. You’ve got to give her more credit.” You smile, kissing his bare chest as he takes another drag of the cigarette.

“You’re right.” He huffs, pout on his face.

“I’m always right.” You say, linking his free hand with yours.

“How should we do this?” He asks, ignoring your little tease as he puts out his cigarette.

“Why don’t we take her and and Mike to breakfast? Have a double date.”

His face scrunches when you say Mike’s name and you roll your eyes, “You can’t do that, if you don’t accept her boyfriend how is she going to accept me.”

“I’m her parent, she’s the child. She has to accept it.” He growls and you swat his chest.

“That’s the kind of attitude that causes kids to act out.” You hum.

“What do you know about that, you were kid like yesterday.” He grumbles.

“Ya, which means I know what makes them act out, old man.” You tease and he throws himself on top of you, kissing you fiercely.

“Watch your mouth.” He mumbles against your lips.

“I don’t think I will.” You hum, “Watching my mouth isn’t any fun.”

——————-

You spend at least an hour in front of your mirror checking out your outfit and making sure everything looked ok. Changing your hair over and over to look more mature. Anytime there was a 5 year or more age gap in a relationship you knew your be getting weird looks and you wanted to minimize it.

Not to mention you wanted El to like you. You were torn, you think she might like you because you’re younger, you’ll understand her more. But the other part of you thinks she might hate you just for taking away her time with Hopper.

You take a deep breath and grab your keys and purse before heading to your car to head to the restaurant.

Jim is outside smoking a cigarette when you get here and your heart kicks a little in happiness, of reassurance.

You hop out of the car and head over to him, standing on your tip toes to kiss his cheek, “Where’s El and Mike?”

“They’re inside, needed a smoke before we do this.” He huffs but he stubs it out and pulls you in to kiss you hard, “There’s still time to go home and have sex and just let them have a date.”

You snort and shake your head, “Get your cute butt inside and maybe, if you’re good, we’ll sneak off in your car later to have sex.”

Jim pulls at your hand and pulls you inside which makes you giggle and follow after him, he was definitely sex motivated.

El and Mike already know you, you babysit Mike and his friends growing up so El has met you several times through them.

Jim sits down and clears his throat as he sits down, “Thank you two for coming today. The reason I asked you guys to come to the diner with me this morning is thanks to her. Y/n is my girlfriend and she suggested we have a double date.”

You and El were trying not to laugh at the professional and almost mechanical way he’s introducing the concept of dating. Your eyes meet El’s from across the table and when they do you both burst out laughing and that’s when you know everything will be ok.

“What are you two laughing at.” Jim’s eyes narrow and you let out a little giggle as you hold his arm.

“You’re just so serious.” You smile.

“Lighten up.” El giggles.

“Oh great, now you’re both gonna be ganging up on me.” He sighs, “Need another cigarette.”

You pluck the carton from his hands and stick it in your purse, “Nope, breakfast and then maybe you can smoke.”

He narrows his eyes at you but El is giggling like crazy and you can’t stop smiling.

You really had nothing to worry about when it came to El. She immediately fell in love with you and how easily you could distract her dad from picking on Mike.

Dating Jim Hopper would be the best thing you ever did. Not only was he a great man but El was amazing as well. You really lucked out.

[zarvasace]

salad of heroes

The most mediocre-effort Everyone Meets minific you will ever find. The Links are coming together! Wow! It's the beginning of an adventure and everyone is so stoked! (you can guess who's less enthusiastic)

Disability AU, 8421 words, AO3 link here. No particular warnings. Except for the fact that I didn't even read over this a second time.

---

When the clear sound of portal magic rang out from behind Link, he sighed and covered his eyes for just a moment with his hand. Really? Again? Portals? 

He whirled around when someone stepped out, right onto his bedroom floor.

The man stared at Link, his right eye hidden by a leather patch, his left wide and a familiar shade of bright blue. He wore light armor, though the design made the back of Link's neck prickle, as did the markings on the man's face, just under the eye patch. 

"Link?" the man asked, his voice rapidly shifting from shock to surprise. 

Link frowned. 'Do I know you?' he signed, hoping this man somehow knew the language. 

The man's face crinkled in a reluctant smile. "It's been a while for me, yes, though not as long for you. I'm Mask." He added the sign name Link had given him to make it clear, a mixture of the signs for 'mask' and the letter L, since his name was also Link. 

'Mask,' Link repeated, blinking in shock. 'You grew up.' 

"I did. I have a wife and a farm." Mask looked proud of himself. "And before you ask, I don't know what that portal was. I didn't particularly want to leave, though I'm not too disappointed I came here. It's good to see you again."

'You, too. Your eye… your face and armor. What happened?' Link had some idea, but didn't really want to put the thought into words. This older Mask was strange. Familiar, but changed, and Link didn't really know how to react. 

Mask winced and waved a hand. "Let's leave that for another time. I think I feel another portal coming, you might want to get your things."

With a reluctant nod, Link turned back to his bookshelf and put his book down. He'd been looking forward to that. Oh well. 

Armor, a note, and one packed bag later, Link and Mask stood in front of another portal, identical to the last. 

Mask held out his hand. "Let's not get lost."

Link nodded his agreement and took his hand. It was much larger than last time they'd gone through a portal, but familiar nonetheless. Together, they took a step into the blackened magic, leaving Warriors's castle behind for new vistas. 

That new vista happened to be the edge of a small town in the forest, just outside a rough-hewn fence next to a sturdy tree. A young man with another rather familiar face, not to mention strange facial tattoos, stood on the other side of the fence, frozen with one of his hands on a goat's horn. 

No, Link realized, his only hand. 

"Who are you?" the young man asked in accented but understandable Hylian, taking a step back. His goat bleated but followed him. "Do I know you?" He directed the question towards Mask, looking over the armor. 

"I… don't think so," Mask answered, shooting a glance at Link to double-check that neither of them had ever met the kid. Link shook his head. 

"Well, who are you?" 

Link winced, but decided to try the signing anyway. Maybe the kid knew it. 'My name is Link, I'm the general of the Hyrule Army.'

"No, you're not," the kid said, narrowing his eyes. At least he'd understood. "I know the general, and he's not you. Is this a joke?"

"What's your name?" Mask asked, and oddly enough, the kid relaxed a fraction. 

"Link."

Link snorted. 'So is mine. And his. Are you a Sacred Hero of Light, by chance?'

The new Link still looked wary. "I'm the Hero of Twilight, yes."

'Then that's what we'll call you,' Link said. 'Twilight. I'm the Hero of Warriors, so I suppose my name is Warriors.' 

"Warriors," the new Link tried. "That's a mouthful. I'll call ya Wars. And you?" 

"I'm the Hero of Time." Mask sounded resigned. "I think we're on another time-traveling journey, gathering Heroes for some reason. You're probably meant to come along."

The newly dubbed Twilight looked them over. "You did just pop out of a portal. I guess I can believe you, maybe. Prepare for adventure, huh? I can do that."

He put away the goats and invited them into his house, which was built up on the sturdy tree, oddly enough. It was a cozy place, if a bit rustic for Link's taste. Warriors's taste. He winced. That was a mouthful. 

"Not to pry," Twilight said from his loft. He glanced down at the two of them sitting awkwardly at his table and started to climb back down. "But why don't you talk, Wars? No judgment. I went through a period of mutism, myself, not that signing worked too well with just the one hand." That explained the fact that he knew sign language, even if it was still a bit confusing why it was the same sign language. 

'My voice doesn't work very well,' Link—Warriors, he should remember that—signed so Twilight could see. 'It's easier this way.'

"I'll take your word for it." Twilight pulled a sword belt on over his shoulder and concluded with a backpack. 

Mask, now Time, stood up. "May I ask about your arm?"

"Reindeer ate it," Twilight answered easily. 

Warriors and Time exchanged an odd look. 

"Sorry," Twilight said after a second, laughing. "I get that question a lot. I was born without it, as far as we can figure."

Time cracked a smile. "Then I'm sure you have a lot of ridiculous answers."

"Of course I do. So where are we going?"

Warriors shrugged. Before he could get the chance to say anything, though, he heard the sound of a portal to his left, near the front door. He sighed. 'We don't know.'

Twilight frowned out at the portal. "I'm a bit hesitant to leave. Monster attacks are increasing, and I'm one of the only ones who can do anything about them."

"I don't think we have a choice," Time told him. "Though… it is a bit of a coincidence that the same thing has been happening at my home."

'And mine,' Warriors said. 'More than coincidence, now.' 

"Well," Twilight sighed, "maybe this will help that, then. How many more Links are there? I'm familiar with stories about the Hero of Men."

"As am I," Time agreed. "Perhaps he predates us both."

Twilight shifted on his feet, still staring at the portal. "I'm not familiar with the Hero of Time, though."

"Not all stories are meant to be passed on." 

'That isn't ominous,' Warriors said, though he couldn't blame Time. 'I know of three or four others, at least.' 

"Then I guess we just need to get going." Twilight nodded. "Meet these other Heroes."

Time held out a hand toward Twilight. "We've been holding hands. The portals are a little… disorienting."

Though he hesitated for a moment, Twilight nodded and took the hand. Warriors grabbed Time's other hand, and together they walked into the next portal. 

The first thing Warriors registered was the wind chill. His scarf blew around his body, and he shivered against the wind. On Time's other side, Twilight let go and rubbed at his head. 

"Disorienting? Yes. Ugh."

Warriors winced in silent apology and shielded his eyes with his hand to look around for their next Hero. 

Sure enough, another sandy-haired young man faced away from them, tending to a small garden outside of a colorful building. He didn't seem to be bothered by the wind, despite it whipping his hair around. 

"Hello?" Twilight called over the wind. 

The new presumably-Link didn't look up. 

Perhaps the wind was too loud. Warriors took a few steps forward and waved within the new kid's line of sight. 

Three seconds later, Warriors found himself facing the bright blue sky with the kid on top of him, a dagger pressed to his neck. Hey. The kid was good. And not entirely a kid, he looked a bit older now that Warriors could see his face. 

"I don't know you. Who are you?" he asked, his voice a little louder than it needed to be, with every consonant clear and precise. 

Warriors couldn't respond with his arms trapped beneath the kid's weight. He sighed and mouthed the word instead. 'Link.' 

"Yes, I'm Link. I asked who you are."

Twilight got up closer, and the new Link tensed, turning his way, but Twilight just spoke. "He's Link. And so am I. And so is he." 

The new Link squinted at him. "Say that again."

"We're all Link. We're all Heroes, from across time, we think."

"Heroes," the new Link echoed. He thought for a moment, then got off of Warriors. "I hope you don't mind if I prove that claim." 

"How do you plan on doing that?" Time asked, his arms folded. 

The new Link looked them over. "Come with me." He turned to go. 

Twilight offered his hand to Warriors, who took it to stand up. He rubbed at his neck. 

'He's talented,' Warriors signed, and Twilight nodded his agreement. 

The three of them followed the new Link around a few buildings and up to a cave. They hesitated, but let him lead them inside. It wasn't a very big cave, but was lit well with natural vents and shielded from the wind. The new Link went right up to the altar at the far end and picked up a sword. A very familiar sword. He turned to face them, blade gleaming. 

"Okay, I believe you two, now," Twilight muttered. "That's the Master Sword." He wasn't the only one with a reaction. Time scowled, and Warriors looked at it with reverence and wariness. 

The new Link waited a moment, looking them over with the sword in his hands. "She says you're actually Heroes. Hm. That isn't what I expected to find today." He lowered the sword and smiled. "In that case, it's nice to meet you. I'm Link, though you knew that, and I'm the Hero of the Sky." 

"Then we'll call you Sky," Time said. "If that's amenable to you. We've been picking up nicknames according to our titles."

The newly named Sky frowned slightly. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" 

It was the second time he'd asked for someone to say something again. Warriors raised a hand for attention and tried something else. 

'Since we're all named Link, we've been picking nicknames that match our hero titles,' he signed. 'So yours is Sky.'

Sky brightened. "You know sign? That will make this go much more smoothly." He put the Master Sword back on the altar and signed, too. 'I can't hear very well.'

'Really? I don't speak very well, but I can hear. You do speak well, though.'

"Thank you." Sky signed as he spoke. "I've practiced a lot. I must admit I'm still confused, though—if you're all Heroes… are you from the surface? Are there other people out there?"

"We're from across time, actually," Time said. Warriors decided to interpret, and Sky smiled at him. 

"Across time." Sky nodded. "Not the strangest thing to have happened to me, by far. This almost makes sense. So what are your nicknames?" 

After a quick introduction, and the start of a few sign names based on first impressions, Sky picked up the Master Sword again. He took them to where he'd been working before, and left them outside so he could go pack. 

Warriors listened to the slightly awkward conversation Twilight and Time struck up, but didn't contribute. He was a little busy thinking about the timeline—just how many Links could there be? He knew of at least two more, if he really did recognize Twilight and Sky's eras. At least two, possibly three, if the Hero of Men was someone new. Hopefully, the Master Sword would make it easier for them to convince anyone else that they were for real. 

As soon as Sky returned, a smile on his face and the Master Sword on his back, another portal opened in front of the small group. 

"Shall we?" Time asked, offering out his hands. 

Warriors took one, Twilight took the other, and Sky took Warriors's other side with only a little confusion. And in they went to another portal. 

This was going to be a long day, wasn't it? 

The world warmed up quite a bit on the other side of the portal, and Warriors's boots hit the wood of a very small boat. Around them, the small dock on the beach looked abandoned. 

The boat honestly barely fit the four of them. The five of them. This time, the kid in front of the portal watching them come through had sun-bleached blond hair and a sword already in his hand. When he saw Warriors, though, he dropped the sword and ran up. 

Warriors shook off Time and Sky's hands to catch the kid in a hug, laughing. Man, he was heavier than before. That seemed to be a theme. 

"Link! Hi! Hey, you didn't change a bit! How are you?" The sailor stepped back to let him use his hands. 

'I'm fine. We're apparently gathering a bunch of Heroes from across time, wanna come with?' 

"Of course I do! What great timing, too, I've been getting bored." Warriors kept up the interpreting so Sky could follow along. 

Twilight interrupted. "Uh, how old are you, kid?" 

The sailor turned on him with a glint in his eye. "Fourteen, and a Hero twice over, so shove whatever ideas you have about 'too young' overboard to drown, landlubber."

Warriors laughed again, and Twilight looked like he didn't know whether to be offended or not. 

"Two adventures?" Sky asked. "Why two?" 

The sailor shrugged and picked his sword back up to sheathe it. "World needed saving twice, I guess. Or… whatever that second one was. There were definitely ghosts."

"I had two, as well," Time said. 

"Hold on." The sailor put his hands on his hips and looked Time over. "I know you."

Time almost smiled. "Everyone does, apparently."

"I don't," Sky said brightly. 

"You're the kid! Holy—" The sailor pointed at him. "You had two adventures, and your face, and your stupid smile! You're him! You got old."

"I'm not old," Time protested. "Just older. You're still insufferable." 

Twilight raised his hand to break it up. "Hey, kid, what's your Hero title? That's where we've been getting nicknames, we can't all be Link."

That successfully distracted the sailor. "I guess not. I'm the Hero of the Wind. What's yours? Hey, what happened to your arm?"

"I'm Twilight. And I ate too many lemons as a kid."

The sailor, Wind now, laughed and slung up a backpack. "Good one. I didn't eat enough lemons as a kid." He lifted up his left leg to showcase the leather and black-painted wood that extended past his knee. He hopped a few times to keep his balance before putting it down. "So who are the rest of you?"

"Sky, apparently."

'Warriors.'

Wind squinted at him. "I don't know that sign, it's been forever."

Sky helped out. "Warriors."

"That's a long name."

"Wars is a good nickname for the nickname," Twilight supplied. 

Wind laughed. "And it's pretentious, just like him!"

'I'm right here,' Warriors pouted. He was getting attached to the name. 

"Call me Time," said the last of them. "We don't know where we're going or how long it'll take, or even how many Heroes named Link there are. You still with us?"

Wind nodded resolutely. "Yep. There's a portal behind you."

"Of course there is," Twilight sighed. "They always seem to appear at the earliest moment we're ready. Time for another."

As had become practice, they grabbed each other's hands and abandoned this era for another. 

Warriors knew of at least one more era, one more Hero, perhaps two… yet he doubted it was the only one they still had left. 

The other end of this portal was actually nice. Late-afternoon sunlight filtered through the broad leaves of tall trees, and the air smelled sweet, with just a hint of sourness. 

This Link sat on the ground by a row of pea vines, piling picked pea pods into the skirt of his tunic. He looked up at them, noticed the Master Sword on Sky's back, and sighed up at the sky. 

"Really?" he yelled, loud enough to startle some birds from the trees and make Warriors jump. "I finally get to settle down, and you assign me more?" 

Warriors exchanged a look with Time, a bit worried.

"Uh… hi," Wind tried. "Is your name Link, too? What are you the Hero of?"

The new Link dumped the peas into a bucket with more force than necessary. "Yes, I'm Link. Everything and nothing. What world-ending calamity is there this time?" 

"We don't know," Time said. "You're not alone in your frustration, but I don't think there's much of a choice."

"Of course not," new Link muttered. He grabbed a cane laying on the ground that Warriors hadn't noticed and used it to push himself to standing. Then he grabbed the bucket of peas and turned to the house. "Come on. Who are all of you?"

Wind took it upon himself to introduce everyone. "I'm Wind, because I'm the Hero of Winds, and I lost my leg when a shark smelled my blood and ate it. That's Twilight, his arm disappeared into an interdimensional portal and he never found it." Twilight choked on laughter. "That one's Time, he's old,  he ate too much grapefruit and lost his eye. And Warriors, but you can call him Wars, his voice sounds weird now so he doesn't talk." Warriors rolled his eyes and signed thank you as sarcastically as he could. "And finally, that's Sky, he, uh… he has the Master Sword."

"I noticed," new Link said. "That's the only reason you're not burnt steaks right now." He used his cane as support, but didn't lean on it as heavily as Warriors had expected. 

Sky, who'd been following along with Warriors interpreting, spoke up. "I'm deaf."

"Ah, so that's why he's been signing the whole time." The new Link turned at the steps to the house to face them. "The goddesses really like their broken Heroes, huh?"

'Don't say that,' Warriors frowned, signing sharply. 'None of us are broken.'

"I am. Six adventures will do that to you."

"Six?" Twilight burst. "You're joking. We've just been on one or two. Is that an injury, then?" He gestured to the cane. 

The new Link snorted. "Wow. Yeah, it's been six, and I thought I was done. And… no, it's not an injury. I just go through weeks where everything sucks, and every time, the normal gets a little worse. Just got off an episode yesterday, actually, so. Look, when we go in there, do not buy anything, it's all overpriced."

"What?" Sky asked aloud, a beat later. 

"You'll see." Link opened the door and headed into the house. He set the bucket of peas on a table. "Come on in, I just gotta grab my stuff. Dumb adventuring stuff." 

Although Warriors had an inkling of what he'd find in the front room, the volume really shocked him. Every available surface past the hallway that led to the kitchen had something on it. The sheer volume of stuff ranged from creepy-looking masks to bottles of milk to magic items with… yep, tiny purple bunny ears. 

"Captain Hero!" a voice said, far too close for comfort. 

Warriors let out a shocked noise and jumped. 

"It is you!” said the short person next to him, wearing a long purple robe with his bunny-shaped hood pulled up. He, too, signed as he spoke, though his signs were messy. "Wow, to think, you came to visit me this time! And you brought friends! Still wearing your scarf, I see, very chic, I have some scarf pins over here you might like. Are you—"

'Ravio,' Warriors tried to interrupt the tirade. 

"Does he just know everyone?" Twilight whispered to Time behind him. Time made an I-don't-know noise. 

Ravio kept going, walking backwards farther into the room. 

'Ravio!' Warriors signed again, yelling as best he could with sharp signs. Ravio finally stopped mid-sentence. 'That guy back there is the Hero you wouldn't stop talking about?'

"Oh, yes, he's very good at what he does, believe me. Six adventures, you know?"

"We heard," Sky said, with his voice and hands. "It's quite a lot. Are you Link's friend?"

"That's me, yep, Ravio at your service. I'm the proprietor of this shop and everything in it is for sale, only the most reasonable prices for the friends of Captain Hero."

"That's a Farore-damned lie!" The new Link—he still didn't have a nickname—limped into the room with a different outfit, sturdier boots, and a lot of jewelry. "Your prices are awful."

Ravio put a hand up to his chest for a moment. "You hurt my feelings. Of course you're all getting discounts!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." The new Link shooed Wind away from one of the piles of jewelry. Warriors would bet that Wind had already taken some, dirty little pirate. "You have free run of this place while I'm gone, so don't trash it. And don't"—he got up close to Ravio—"let my garden die like last time."

"I'll do my very best," Ravio promised. "You have places to be."

"Wish I knew what those places were." The new Link stood straight in front of the group. Warriors noticed a weird patch of pink in his otherwise-blond hair. "People call me the Legendary Hero, which I guess makes my name Legend." 

Warriors nudged Wind for his attention and signed in small gestures. 'And you called me pretentious.'

The new Link gave him a flat look. "Warriors, right? That's because you are."

'Me? Pretentious? You'll eat those words, jewelry boy.'

"Jewelry boy, wow, how creative. I'm truly insulted. Where do we go from here?" 

Twilight pointed to behind Legend, where a portal swirled into existence. "That's how it's been happening."

Legend sighed, turned around, and marched right through the portal. 

Wind grabbed Warriors's hand. "Wait up! Bye, Ravio!" 

"Bye for now!" 

Warriors snatched Sky's cape, Sky took Twilight's hand, and Time grabbed Twilight's furs. One by one, connected, they went through the new portal. 

"Ugh, these portals are awful," Legend said on the other side. He clutched at his head. 

"They're a bit disorienting, I admit," Sky said, "but they seem to affect us differently. I'm not getting headaches."

"Where's the new Link?" Wind asked, spinning around in a circle. They stood in a red canyon, wind whistling through, carrying heat. "Helloooooo?" he called, hands cupped around his mouth. 

Time put a hand on Wind's shoulder. "We don't want to call undue attention, Wind."

'Honestly,' Warriors said, smiling briefly when Sky spoke his words so people could hear them, 'We might not need to worry about that. Every portal so far has led us right to the new Link, alone and with convenient timing.'

Legend grunted. "That's not suspicious at all."

"I assume it's the goddess's doing," Sky said mildly, looking around. 

"My point still stands."

Warriors rolled his eyes and inspected the canyon. It was true that this portal didn't put them right in front of a Link, as has happened every other time. Maybe it was the end, and they'd gathered all of the Heroes. In that case, there would be a threat, something to fight, wouldn't there? 

"I know this place," Twilight muttered. "The Link here is feral, and I mean that as both a good and a bad thing."

"Feral?" Time asked, an eyebrow raised. 

A boy in a blue cape landed on Time's shoulders, knocking him onto his back and making everyone panic. 

'Attacked again,' Warriors said, not really intending anybody to see, but Sky laughed. 

'Sorry,' Sky signed. 

'No harm done. Hopefully it'll be the same here.'

"How did you steal it?" the new Link asked with a growl, holding a glowing yellow spear dangerously close to Time's chest. His blue cape hid his head, but Warriors could see a good array of supplies held on his person, despite the odd lack of a pack. 

Time raised his hands. "Steal what?"

"Don't play dumb. The Master Sword. How did you even survive the seal? Or the woods, for that matter?" 

"We didn't steal the sword," Time said, trying to stay calm. 

"I don't know if she could be stolen like that." Sky approached, his hands raised in peace. "We aren't a threat to you or the people here. We're being pulled through time to find a lot of other Heroes. You're a Hero, aren't you?" 

The new Link paused, then nodded once. The spear pulled back a few inches, but Time didn't take the opening. 

Sky hesitated. "If you said something, I didn't catch it. I don't hear very well, and I can't see your face with the hood."

After another second, the new Link took a hand off of his spear to yank his hood back around his neck. Warriors was first struck with the length of his hair, and how tangled it looked. He winced. Then he noticed the scarring across the Link's face, focused on the left side of his jaw. It was awful scarring. 

"I didn't say anything," the new Link said. "I'm going to need proof that you aren't Yiga." 

"Yiga?" Wind asked in confusion. 

"Imposters," Twilight answered. That's right, he said he knew this Link, didn't he? Why wasn't there some kind of reunion? The new Link's eyes passed right over him, though Warriors thought he saw a hitch. 

Legend groaned in exasperation. "Nayru's nose, I'm so done with this. Look, Link, the goddesses don't let you say no to these things. We're all Link, hooray, just get off of Time." 

"That doesn't make sense," the new Link said, though he didn't seem too sure. 

"There's only one thing that makes sense in this Farore-forsaken world, and that's that nothing makes sense. Get used to it." 

Warriors sighed. 'Lay off of him, Legend. Is this what six adventures did to you? Made you jaded beyond belief?'

"You bet they did," Legend snapped back. 

Twilight tried mediation next. He stepped in Warriors and Legend's lines of sight. "Look, we don't know how long this is going to take, and it's getting dark, apparently time moves the same no matter which era we're in. Sky, would you draw the sword?" He mimed the action, which Sky understood. 

Carefully, and making eye contact with the new Link so as not to scare him, Sky pulled the Master Sword off his back and held it out flat. In his hands, and in the growing sunset, the blade glowed with an eerie, peaceful blue light. It lit Sky's face, and he smiled as he looked down at it. 

Warriors remembered how the sword felt in his hands. Part of him wanted to run up and take it again, but he crossed his arms instead. Sky respected its power, that was clear. He was the ideal wielder at the moment, not Warriors. 

"The blade only glows in the hands of a healthy Hero," Twilight said, and it appeared that the new Link knew that already. He nodded slowly and stepped off of Time, who sat up. 

With the tense atmosphere dissolving, Wind perked up again. "So, what's your name? Link, obviously.  We all are. I meant, what's your Hero title? Those are where we're getting our nicknames, since we can't all be Link. I'm Wind! That's Warriors, and Sky, and Twilight, and Time, and Legend. I think he's a bit of a jerk."

"Hey!"

The new Link smiled, just a little. It pulled higher on his right, opposite the scar. "It's not official or anything, but… I'm the Hero of the Wild."

"That makes sense," Wind said diplomatically, looking the now-Wild over. 

"So what's going on?" Wild asked, keeping his spear out. 

Warriors stepped forward so that Sky could see his interpreting better. 'We don't know. The portals are just dropping us off in front of Links who happen to also be Heroes.'

Thankfully, Wild understood him. How odd was it that all of them so far knew sign language? Sure, Warriors taught both Time and Wind at different points, and Sky was deaf, but… It was a mystery for Legend, Twilight, and Wild, now. It made things easier on him, but it still felt strange. 

"That's… weird."

"You need to pack for a journey. Where do you keep your things?" Time asked. 

Wild shook his head, hair flying. "On me. I have everything I need, though…" He unhooked a tablet-shaped item from his belt. It lit up with blue and orange light, and he poked the light. "I would have stocked up on more rice had I known I was going somewhere with… there are six of you."

"We have our own rations," Legend said, less grouchy than before. 

"Rations?" Wild looked up and frowned. "While I'm around? Never. When else will I get the chance to show off my cooking skills?" 

"You can cook?" Wind asked brightly. 

"Yeahhhh…" Wild trailed off, his eyes lifted. "What's that?" 

Warriors turned around, and Time sighed audibly. 

"It's our next portal. Come on, everyone, grab onto each other."

Wild ended up on the end of the line between Time and Twilight, who smiled encouragingly down at him. 

"The portals are a little rough, so hang tight."

"Rough?" Legend asked, caught between Warriors and Sky with his cane tucked into his belt. They headed into the portal single-file. "More like, these portals are a bit—"

His words were swallowed by the portal, and Warriors shook his head, towing Wind along behind him. 

The next world was very, very dark. Warriors couldn't see a thing, but he could feel Legend drop to sit on the ground, and he could hear the portal brushing out of existence. 

"Everyone made it through?" Time asked, lowering his voice. The way it echoed, the chill in the air… Warriors imagined this was a cave. 

A small chorus of affirmative noises bounced around the room. 

And an unfamiliar voice—well, more unfamiliar than the rest of these people—spoke back, young but firm. "Who are you? How did you find me?"

Legend snorted from his place on the floor. Despite Warriors trying to hold onto him, he ripped his hand away and, from the sounds of it, stood up. "Link, meet Link, Link, Link, Link, Link, Link, and Link. We're all Link. We're all Heroes. Why is it so Din-damned dark in here?" 

A spot of glowing orange lit up the space, illuminating Legend's face first, then Sky and the rest of them. Sky let out a breath, hand over his heart, and turned around. 

Standing in the dim light with an impressive ruby-and-silver sword in one hand and long staff in the other, the new Link had dirt on his face and rubbed into his clothes. Warriors could barely tell that his tunic was green. Despite the weapon, his posture was relaxing by the moment. 

"Not like the darkness changes much," the new Link said. Warriors looked a little closer, realizing at the same time that Twilight did. 

"You can't see," Twilight said aloud. 

The new Link's face hardened. "Is that a problem? If you're looking for me, you think you would've known that already."

Legend, of all people, answered. "We're not from here. Of course it's not a problem, we're all messed up somehow. Short version because I don't want to be here all day: we're time traveling through portals, nobody knows why, we keep finding more Links. Who knows when it'll end. You're the latest, chances are you'll be yanked through the next portal, too.

"You can call me Legend. I've been on six adventures, and I can mostly walk most days because my body hates me. The feeling is mutual."

"Oh." The new Link blinked, then sheathed his sword at his side. "Nice to meet you, then. I think."

Behind Warriors, Wild pulled out a torch and lit it, brightening up the cave that much farther. 

"Well?" Legend snapped into the silence. "Introduce yourselves, everyone, he has to know your voices."

"You can do that?" Wind asked in awe. 

The new Link snorted. "I would be stupid if I didn't memorize voices. And monster sounds."

Warriors couldn't pretend to know what being blind was like, but he thought it would be very hard to live the kind of lifestyle this kid obviously did. How had he survived? He was either very skilled, or very lucky. Possibly both. 

"My nickname is Sky," Sky said next. "I've been on one adventure, and I have the Master Sword." The name-drop didn't faze this new Link at all. Had he even heard of it? "I'm deaf, so if you need to talk to me… you don't happen to know sign language, do you?"

The new Link made a face, possibly one of confusion. "What is that?" 

"A way of speaking without sounds, using hand gestures instead. If you need to talk to me, then, perhaps find someone else."

Warriors realized then that he'd never really be able to communicate with this Link. Not directly, anyway. He'd always need an interpreter. That was a little bit depressing, he was starting to get attached to all of these crazy people. 

"Okay," the new Link agreed. "I can do that." He leaned against the wall. 

"I'm Twilight. One adventure. I'm missing my right arm a bit below the shoulder."

The new Link turned his head slightly in Twilight's direction. "You have dark magic on you." 

Twilight scowled, the markings on his forehead folding. "What? No, I don't."

"You do," the new Link insisted, though he didn't seem bothered. "But you're clearly still divinely blessed, so whatever it is, it's not a problem."

"I don't have dark magic," Twilight muttered, but Time took over. 

"You can call me Time. I'm the oldest of you lot, so far. Two adventures, myself. My right eye is missing, but my left one works just fine."

"You're the one wearing armor," the new Link said. 

"Yes. Good ears."

Wind went next, just as excited as he'd been the rest of the time. "I'm Wind! I think I'm the youngest so far! I got my left leg chewed up, but I have a wooden one now, and it's not hard to get around."

"Really? That's neat."

"It is so neat, I'm glad to be able to walk. I've had two adventures, maybe two and a half? Depends on how you read the second, it did all sort of happen in a dream, but I got a sword and Linebeck out of it, so…"

"A dream?" The new Link laughed. It was a nice sound. "That's weird."

"And I'm Wild. One… yeah, just one adventure, if you could call it that. I guess my thing is that I have some pretty heavy scarring on my side. It's not really an issue."

"What kinds of scars?" the new Link asked. At least he seemed to be getting comfortable with them. Warriors wondered when the next portal would open. 

Wild shrugged, holding the torch high. "Burn scars. Sort of."

Warriors felt his heart beat a little faster—it was his turn, wasn't it? It seemed like it. He wasn't nervous, he just… thought his voice sounded awful, and didn't particularly like letting people hear it. Sky nodded at him, and Warriors knew that if he chose to sign, Sky would speak for him. It was nice, to know he had someone to do that if he needed it, and Sky's voice was very calming. 

But, at the same time, if this Link relied on voices that much, he should at least know what Warriors sounded like. It wasn't a bad idea for the others to know, either, just in case. 

Warriors sighed and opened his mouth. "Wa-arrio-rs." Stupid vowels. They took way too much air and never came out right. "Ta-alking i-is h-ha-ard." 

The letter H was the worst. He wrinkled his nose and cleared his throat. His voice now always came out scratchy, broken, and a little painful.

"You can talk?" Wild asked in surprise, and Legend turned around to blink at Warriors, too. Sky smiled encouragingly. 

"Ba-arely-y." Warriors frowned and switched back to sign only. He hoped that the way his face flamed wasn't visible in the dim, warm light. 'It can be painful. I don't do it often.'

Sky nodded. "He says it can hurt," he said aloud for the new Link's sake. "So he doesn't do it often. He uses sign language for the most part, which apparently everyone else knows already."

The new Link smiled, but a little sadly. "Don't strain yourself for me. That's everyone, isn't it? Seven other Links and Heroes, wow. Do you think there will be more?"

"Maybe," Sky said. "I know stories about one before me in time."

"I do, too," Time added. 

"I guess we'll have to see." Legend paused. "Or not, whatever."

The new Link snorted. "All right. My turn. I guess… you can call me the Hero of Hyrule. That's a bit of a stupid name, though, isn't it?" 

Legend shook his head. "Nah. We all have stupid names. That one is Warriors."

'Hey.'

"I'm Hyrule, then. I've saved two Zeldas, so I guess that gives me two adventures. I can see a bit of dark and light, and can tell where bits of magic are, but mostly I just use this." He wiggled his staff. "I think that's it?"

"Aaaand," Twilight sighed, "right on time, there's a portal. Will we get a break?"

"Maybe once we've gathered all the Links we need to." Time took Twilight's free hand, and they formed a chain again. 

Wind took Warriors's hand, and Legend took Hyrule's at the end of the line. 

"Portals are rough," Warriors heard Legend mutter to Hyrule. "You have more magic than I do, you might get sicker than me." 

"Thanks for the warning," Hyrule whispered back. 

And with that, the group of Links, now eight strong, passed through yet another portal—

—into chaos. 

Wherever this was, it was rapidly becoming dark. Even where the sky was light, the large trees blocked it out. In the forest clearing that they emerged into, Warriors counted somewhere around a dozen monsters, ones he recognized as being from across time. Many of the Heroes had already picked up weapons to fight. 

Behind him, it seemed like Legend's warning about portals and sickness was well-founded, as Hyrule immediately pulled away to run to the side and dry heave. He didn't look very good. Legend went to help him, meeting Warriors's eyes as he did. They nodded. Despite their differences, they both had experience, and they both knew the intended plan. 

Warriors stood his ground in front of the pair, tugging out his sword in preparation. None of the monsters had come this way yet, but it was only a matter of time. 

As usual, Wind fought like a whirlwind, using his size and maneuverability to his advantage. He was used to fighting with a group, which was more than could be said for the rest of them. Although they tried, Time more successfully than the others, they didn't work together very well. Warriors wanted to shout out orders for them, but his throat hurt already, and while shouting tended to come out clearer than normal speaking, they wouldn't even know how to follow the orders. So he stayed quiet and let the train wreck happen. 

Out in the melee, one figure stood out—a kid who was somehow managing to use a sword in a wheelchair. It wasn't like any other wheelchair Warriors had ever seen, and when he caught a better glimpse of the kid, his face set into hard lines. This had to be their latest Link, with that blond hair and ferocity. And he couldn't walk. 

Still, he seemed to be doing just fine. Better than most of the others, actually. It looked like a standard sword-and-shield stance, except the shield hand had been modified to push the wheelchair wheels around. He was doing a good job adapting to the others, though they didn't adapt very well to him. 

There really weren't that many monsters, from Warriors's experience. He knew that Wind and Time, at least, were different, usually only finding monsters in packs of less than five or six. It seemed like most of the others were the same. It only took about a minute to clean up the group. 

"Thanks for the help," the new Link said slowly, looking them all over in confusion. He did not put his sword away.  "But can I ask where you're all headed? There aren't many travelers this way, especially not ones as prepared as you."

"Excuse us the rough first impression," Time said for all of them. "You're Link, aren't you?" He sheathed his large sword obviously. The others caught on and put their weapons away, too. 

Warriors followed suit, glancing behind him for a moment. Hyrule looked all right, now, and so did Legend. They stood up together. It sounded like Legend was telling Hyrule what was happening in a low mutter. Warriors nodded at them, then joined the loose circle that was forming so he could interpret for Sky again. He was finding that he didn't mind that job. 

"Who else would I be?" This wasn't working. The new Link was far more suspicious than he should be. 

Wind apparently agreed. He interrupted Time by shoving him aside. "What the old man is trying to say is, welcome, new Link! We're all Links, Heroes, from across time apparently. We don't know where we're going or what we need to do. There are so many of us and you're the latest!" 

"Heroes from across time?" the new Link repeated, visibly thinking as he looked up at all of them. "I suppose you look like it. That's a very faithful reproduction of the styles from the Skyloft era," he added, gesturing to Sky, "but why are you even here?" 

"We're not sure," Twilight said. "But I don't know if there's any doubt you're one of us. The portals have been putting us right in front of the Hero of the era. Does the Master Sword ring any bells?" He gestured, and Sky took the cue to draw the sword and hold it out, as he'd done before. It lit up softly. 

The new Link eyed the weapon. "That's the Master Sword?"

"Have you never used it?" Time asked. "I think we all have, at one point or another."

"I didn't," Hyrule piped up from behind Warriors, who turned to let him and Legend into the circle. "You mentioned it, Sky, but I didn't use it. I had other swords."

"So everyone used the Master Sword except for him and me?" The new Link sat back at their nods and shrugs, crossing his arms. "Hey, kid who didn't use it, either, what did you use instead?"

Warriors raised a silent eyebrow. Kid? New Link was too small to be more than ten or twelve, although he did act more mature. 

Hyrule stood up a little straighter. "My nickname now is Hyrule, I guess, because I'm the Hero of Hyrule. The best sword I ever had is the Magic Sword." He pulled out the ruby-and-silver creation Warriors had noted earlier, and kept it pointing carefully up. 

The new Link pushed himself forward a bit to look closer. "Wow. That's very intricate. The enchantments are surely nothing to scoff at."

"They're not," Hyrule said cheerfully, and Warriors almost shuddered. "What sword did you use on your adventure?"

"Adventures, plural. I had two. This is the Four Sword." He set it across his lap, and the golden hilt only highlighted the differences between it and the Master Sword still held by Sky. 

That made both Time and Twilight perk up, just a little. 

The new Link glanced over at them. "You've heard of it?"

"Only in stories," Time told him. "There's only one known wielder of the Four Sword, at least in my time."

Twilight nodded. "Mine, too. You're the Hero of Men, aren't you?" 

"Yes. You have stories? Weird. But if you're all choosing nicknames based on titles, please don't make mine Men."

'What nickname do you want, then? You have one chance,' Warriors said with a small smile. 

The new Link matched the smile, but his brows lowered. "I don't know sign language very well, I just began… teaching myself recently. How far apart are we in time? Do the signs really translate?"

Warriors shrugged. He didn't know. 

"Either it's magic," Legend said, "or languages are ridiculously stable, unlike literally everything else. He asked what nickname you do want. You believe us about the time traveling, then?"

"It isn't the weirdest thing to have happened to me," the new Link said dryly, to understanding laughs and nods all around. "So sure. What are all of your nicknames, first?"

Due to the lopsided circle they stood in, everyone keeping watch over everyone's shoulders, they just introduced themselves in order—Time, Twilight, Wild still with some hesitation, Sky made sure to mention his deafness again, Wind said he lost his leg to a chu attack, Legend, Hyrule again, and Warriors, who got a translation from Sky. 

When the metaphorical torch passed to him, the new Link put his Four Sword away, twisting over the back of the wheelchair. He turned back around. "On occasion, I've been called the Hero of the Four Sword, and that's probably the best of them. So I'll be Four."

"A number?" Wind asked incredulously. 

"It's not like it's stranger than being called Time. Or Hyrule."

"You have a point."

"A new portal should be showing up about now," Time said, looking around. "They've been quick about it."

Everyone waited a few seconds, but no portal appeared. 

"Are we done, then?" Sky asked. 

Legend sighed and rubbed at his forehead. "There are nine of us, oh Din. How is that even going to work?"

'We need to figure out how to work together,' Warriors signed, with Sky echoing again. 'That fight just now was a mess.'

"Was it?" Twilight asked, genuinely confused. 

"Teamwork is hard, but it's necessary," new Four told them seriously. "It's getting dark, though. Maybe we should find a place to set up camp."

Wild agreed. "This seems like a good spot. I can make the fire. And something to eat."

"Let's assume we're staying here for the time being, then," Time said, his voice carrying authority that Warriors knew hadn't been there however many years ago. 

He smiled as Time gave out a few directions, getting people moving and setting things up. Nobody was quite comfortable with each other yet, though Warriors could see a few friendships forming already.

Wild pulled firewood and kindling out of nowhere, then a pot and food out of the same place. Twilight helped him chop up some vegetables, managing perfectly well with only the one hand, though he did things a little differently. 

Legend and Hyrule took a lap around the clearing's perimeter, talking quietly. Although Warriors had worried somewhat about Hyrule's ability to get around, he was fine, sweeping his staff in front of him to feel out where rocks and trees were. At some point, he climbed a tree, picked off a bunch of leaves, and dropped back down to run his fingers over them. 

Wind and Sky, at Time's direction, pulled over a few dead logs to use as seating. Wind went on about a giant octoroc, signing only most of the story. Sky looked lost, but amused nonetheless, and managed to ask a few half-relevant questions that sent Wind careening down into other rabbit holes. 

"Captain," Time called from across camp, and Warriors turned right around. "Watches?"

Ah, good plan. Warriors nodded and dug in his bag for a notebook and a stub of pencil to do some familiar math. He sat down on one of the settled logs by the fire and began. 

He was very glad Time took charge, actually. Time was very different from Warriors's memories of the bratty kid he had been, and though they were virtual strangers now, Warriors could still see Time's good heart. If he was being entirely honest, Warriors was a bit intimidated by this group. A few of them were kids, but they had an edge that screamed survival. Legend was young, too, but clearly wanted to do things his way. Twilight was independent, too, and Warriors wouldn't soon forget the way that Sky had attacked him on their first meeting. He'd only known most of them for an hour or two, at most. They didn't know him, they weren't soldiers. So while Warriors knew a lot about how to run a group, and how to deal with the logistics, he didn't know how to organize this group. He mentally thanked Time for taking the initiative. 

Once bedrolls were arranged awkwardly around the fire, and once the smell of cooking food began to fill the air, the atmosphere relaxed. Hyrule sat by a log, weaving together the leaves into a pattern that looked just as interesting as it probably felt. He spoke with Twilight, who'd been banished from the cooking once it started to simmer. Wild wouldn't leave it alone, though, and answered Wind's questions about it with surprising patience. Legend criticized Warriors's watch plans, which was especially annoying because most of what he said was right, and they both knew it. Four got right into learning a few more signs from Sky, both of them sitting on blankets near the fire. 

"Um, everyone?" Wild said, standing in the middle. He held a wooden spoon in his hand and seemed a bit nervous when all the attention moved to him. "I like food. I mean, I'd like it if you all liked the food, too. If you don't like something or are allergic to whatever, let me know, or I will find out another way. Um, anyway, all that to say, food! It's here! I don't have a lot of dishes, though…"

With a snort, Twilight got up to help him distribute the skewers and cups of rice. Warriors was pleasantly surprised by how good it smelled and tasted. 

"Okay," Wind began once dinner was well underway. "So, the true story of how I lost my leg. It was a dark and stormy night…"

[redphlox]

how 325 moves the plot forward

This chapter highlights one of the main themes of the manga: connection by way of understanding.

However, the idea hasn't quite come full circle yet because it hasn't explicitly included OFA's ("heroes") connection to AFO ("villains") to the characters. This piece is missing, and it makes sense because it's through Hawks's inner monologue and thus limited understanding that we are introduced to this concept of OFA being a quirk that connects people.

But, the readers know OFA and AFO are linked, meaning that, just like OFA has connected the heroes and civilians right now, the villains are an inescapable part of this bond, too. This is a concept that the story seems to be expanding upon, considering that Deku saw Tenko crying through their dreamscape and realized Shigaraki was someone who needed saving, too.

Not to mention that the idea that AFO and OFA are connected has been brought up multiple times by the vestiges. In 286, Shigaraki and Deku even interacted in the same dreamscape. OFA's dreamscape always shows a door that has yet to be opened

which leads me to believe that Shigaraki is probably behind it. That door connects OFA and AFO. When Deku opens it, they'll be connected. Shigaraki will be the key to defeating AFO - after Deku has reached him. That's the power of OFA, after all.

I love that Iida and Ochako are so in sync ;-; It's beautiful that two of Deku's first and closest friends understand his heart and want to be there for him by stepping back and letting others reach him.

This callback to the true spirit of heroism All Might wanted to represent: that anyone could be a hero regardless of quirks. That heroes are everyday people who do everyday things like support one another in their time of need and look out for one another.

This panel is beautiful for many reasons:

The symbolism of the umbrellas: shelter, understanding, unity, sharing pain and burdens, kindness, acceptance, altruism.

Class rep Iida leading a lost child to safety like the hero he always wanted to be.

The gentleness of the way Iida holds Deku's hand, and how relaxed Deku is being led by Iida. Deku feels safe enough to cover his eyes and trusts Iida blindly.

Deku crying, his mom crying, Mineta and Kouta trying to mother Deku, and that kid who asked Deku for hope sheltering Deku with his umbrella.

Kirishima crying because he's so touched.

Momo graciously accepting a civilian's umbrella.

Bakugo stubbornly dodging any connections like the sewer gremlin he is the same way he was annoyed by Endeavor embracing him along with Natsuo. It looks like Kaminari tried to put his hand on Bakugo's back and Bakugo was like, "sWEEERVE I'M NOT HERE FOR THIS TOUCHY FEELY CRAP." lmao.

Shouji, the gentle giant, looking so shocked that someone so dainty and smol feels the need to protect him from the world (the rain).

Mina and Jirou are quick to tell a civilian who is presumably apologizing that it's not needed (based on body language, anyway).

The soft expression of the giant woman as she watches her hero accept help from others, too.

It's an interesting choice on Hori's part that Shouto, Endeavor, and Hawks aren't in the crowd. They're outsiders to the heart-to-heart currently happening and aren't particularly rejoicing like the civilians and UA students. The mood is dire. It could be because there is strife between father and son right now – the civilians have agreed to work together with the heroes and are proving that through action: accepting Deku and offering umbrellas (shelter, understanding, acceptance, support, kindness) to the students. But unlike the civilians, Endeavor’s words and actions have yet to line up. He promised to work together with Shouto to stop Touya but hasn’t pulled through yet. He's still running away. In fact, Shouto called him out for ignoring him and thus ignoring Touya and the family problem he (Endeavor) caused. These two being bystanders to the civilians and students bonding makes sense because the Todoroki family has always suffered silently and their struggle right now is theirs and doesnn't involve civilians. Society didn't create Dabi or abuse the family - Endeavor did.

Also, I want to note that Hawks’s one-sided childhood connection to Endeavor explains why he’s isolated alongside Shouto and Endeavor, once again hinting that there will be more Hawks’s involvement in the Todoroki family arc.

Speaking of Hawks, this is a callback to his ideal world, one where there is such an abundance of peace that heroes have spare time on their hands. It seems like Hori is building up to address Hawks' views of the world and definition of heroism because, like I mentioned earlier, the characters don't yet know how OFA and AFO are connected and therefore don't realize how villains are tied to OFA too through AFO.

The civilian's realization that they've been complacent bystanders is a great narrative response to what happened to Tenko. This is setting a foundation of societal change, which MUST happen for the villains to be understood and saved from self-destructing.

I wrote here about how it makes sense Aizawa is hellbent on payback - a common reaction to grief is anger. This man needs a hug.

Like Shouto, Endeavor, and Hawks, All Might is also shown separated from the others and looking even more miserable. He seems to be walking away from UA, and the mood for this scene is ominous, which is even more startling compared to the hopeful vibes the interaction at the beginning of the chapter.

Anyway, this was such a good chapter. I love that things are being brought up again and addressed. Seems like we're finally moving forward!

[useless-catalanfacts]

hi! i’m not sure if you’ve answered this before but what books or shows would you recommend in order to learn catalan ?

Hi!

It depends on what your level is. Since you're writing to me in English, I assume you're at a beginner level, but I understand you're asking about novels and TV shows made for people who already speak some Catalan so you can practise, right? Not grammar books to learn Catalan.

(If you're asking about language learning books, I have posted links to grammar books and online courses to learn Catalan here.)

For a very beginners level I'd recommend to watch/read children's media, because it will have easier vocabulary and the storylines will be easier to follow.

Catalan children's TV shows:

Les tres bessones: cartoon about three twin sisters who misbehave, and when they do a witch punishes them by sending them to a different fairytale or story. Every episode is a different tale, so they meet people from literature, history, legends, etc.

Rovelló: cartoon about the life and adventures of a dog who lives in a masia (Catalan farmhouse). Based on a famous children's book.

Una mà de contes: stories explained for younger children with support of crafts and manual art.

Teo: a cartoon for little children about a kid learning to do different things. Obviously very simple and for little kids, but should have easy language. Also based on famous children's books.

In these links, you can activate subtitles in Catalan. The subtitles are not available in any other language, so if you need subtitles in English or another language I don't know where to find them, sorry.

You can also watch dubbed media. We have many animes dubbed to Catalan for the children's TV channel. For example, InuYasha, Dr. Slump, Dragon Ball, Detective Conan, Doraemon, Hattori the Ninja, Porco Rosso, Ranma 1/2, Evangelion, Lady Oscar, Sailor Moon, Sakura Card Hunter, The Magical Doremi, Utena, Shin Chan, Cowboy Bebop, Slam Dunk, One Piece, Rantaro, Bleach, Death Note, and many more. Anime films like My Neighbor Totoro, Grave of the Butterflies, Nausicaä, Kiki's Delivery Service, Haru in the Cats Kingdom / The Cat Returns, Howl's Moving Castle, the Doraemon films, and many more. You can download them from the website Anime Lliure.

And other cartoons like Totally Spies, Code Lyoko, Lucky Luke, Princess Shéhérazade, Massagran's Adventures, Maia the Bee, Tintin, Inspector Gadget, The Smurfs, 10+2, etc.

There's lots of books for children and you can buy them on the internet even if you live outside of the Catalan Countries. A famous classic one is El zoo d'en Pitus by Sebastià Sorribas, from the year 1966. Here you have a link with recommendations for more modern ones.

Another good option is the sketches 4Cats made for learners, where you have the text written next to the screen. You can search the episodes by level and by dialect/accent.

I have posted more advanced TV shows recommendations (with links to the official TV3 website to watch them legally for free) here.