#death of a child /

[freepalestinebastard]

[that-guy-in-the-chiton]

“wherever did that beautiful smile of yours go?” “It died…with him.”

[turtleations]

Interview with Mayuko's mother, Kishi Kazuko - Translation

This one comes with a big "Thank you!" to magnetklaue, who proofread it for me and helped me get rid of typos and some awkward phrases.

The Interview was posted on 1 May 2018, the interviewer was Fukui Shiho. The original post is here.

On we go:

20 Years after the death of X JAPAN’s hide: His secret history with a girl with an incurable disease, “The Promised Cheesecake”

The bond between them, inherited by YOSHIKI

On the 2nd of May, it has been 20 yeas since the sudden passing of X JAPAN’s guitarist hide. He has fascinated the world with his bright red hair and his yellowhearts-guitar. When tracing hide’s steps, one girl stands out: Kishi Mayuko, who was battling GM1 gangliosidosis, an incurable disease. She was the 23rd person worldwide to be diagnosed with this disease, and the doctors had told her that she was unlikely to live to be twenty. In 1995, while fighting her illness, Mayuko got to fulfil her dream to “meet hide, the person she admired”, with the help of “Make a Wish Japan”, an organisation that fulfils the wishes of children with incurable diseases.

Their interaction continued after this, and even after hide passed away, his friends and associates kept spending time with her. Eleven years after hide’s death, Mayuko also left this world. There is a place in Wakayama-prefecture where you can still feel the two of them breathing: “Lemoned Café”, run by Mayuko’s parents. The first floor houses the café, and the second floor a live house, with posters and goods related to hide displayed everywhere. We interviewed Kazuko-san, Mayuko’s mother.

When did Mayuko-san start liking hide-san?

She came to like him when she was hospitalized in the fifth year of primary school and listened to a CD of our older daughter while in hospital. She listened to CDs all the time, and when she got to come home for the weekend, she also watched videos in her room. She especially liked X JAPAN and hide-san, and aside from that, she also listened to the CDs of artists hide-san had said were good.

How did you meet hide-san?

There is a volunteer organisation called “Make a Wish Japan”, which is “fulfilling the dreams of incurably ill children aged three to eighteen”. I had been told that her illness would be difficult to treat with current western medicine, and so I thought, “I want to make at least one of her wishes come true” and called them up. Things got moving from there and it turned out we’d be able to meet him. I called around September 1995 and informed them that I was getting tickets for the concert on 31 December at Tokyo Dome, and they suggested, “Let’s have the meeting there.”

What did you talk about with hide-san?

When Mayuko told him “I’m going to be hospitalized in February, so please write to me”, he said, “I will, because we’re friends.” After it was clear that she would get to meet him, Mayuko spend two months knitting a scarf for him with her hands that could barely move. She gave it to hide-san and he wrapped it around himself right there and then.

The person she was dreaming of was right there!

During that time, the press was around for about fifteen minutes, and once they were gone, hide-san said, “Let’s go to the afterparty together.” That’s where the interaction with hide-san started, and he also introduced her to his band members as “My friend Mayuko”.

It’s hard to believe that he introduced her as a friend! He could just have ended it after those first fifteen minutes with a “See you later!”

Yes, he could. At first, I thought, “This is all there is to it.” But our interactions continued ever since.

That must have made you happy.

It did. He even continued to use the scarf she gave him that day. Hide-san’s mother told us, “Since he’s always wearing the same kind of outfit, that scarf is very useful to him.” Even when he went to the US, he always put it in his suitcase, she said. I heard that one time, when there was a lot of luggage, his manager took the scarf out, but hide-san said, “Not this one!” and insisted on taking it with him. After his death, the scarf was returned to us as a memento, and we still have it.

How long did that relationship last?

Two and a half years, from our first meeting until hide-san died. However, I think we made very meaningful memories in that time. Even after Mayuko passed away, some of hide-san’s friends continued to give live shows on the second floor and write “Mayuko, I’m here!” onto coloured paper. But I think that was because they thought, “I respected hide, and Mayuko was someone he adored”. I feel like Mayuko herself appealed to them as well, but for the most part, it was hide-san’s greatness that drove them.

It’s because they were both wonderful. Do you have any memories with hide-san you want to share?

We first met on 31 December and received a letter from him in January. It read, “I’m going to Los Angeles, but I’m grateful that I got to meet Mayuko at the Dome, because thanks to this meeting, I was reminded of things that I had forgotten." Her birthday was on the fourth of March, but she spent it in the hospital. Hide-san was overseas at that time, but he came to visit her at the hospital one day ahead of his scheduled return.

What kind of person was hide-san?

A caring one. When we first met, we were gathered in the waiting room until we went to the afterparty, and he asked, “Mayuko, aren’t you thirsty?” There was a cooler box in the corner of the room, and for an artist as big as hide-san, it wouldn’t be at all unusual to ask someone from the staff to get it. But he did everything himself. He got out some Oolong tea, opened the tap, put in the straw, said, “There, Mayuko.” When it came to his own guests, he did everything on his own. His stance was that the staff came for the purpose of making music, so he wouldn’t have them do anything else.

He was a kind person, wasn’t he?

There’s more; in order to avoid causing a commotion, his visits were kept a secret from anyone but the attending physicians and the nurses. But one day, there was a boy who was very depressed because he had been readmitted to the hospital immediately after being discharged.  Upon seeing this, a nurse tried to cheer him up by telling him, “hide-san will come to see Mayu-chan tomorrow, maybe you can get his autograph.” And so, word got around. Everyone was lining up in front of the visitation room, holding coloured paper. There were 12 or 13 people in line, but when the situation was explained to him, hide-san had everyone come in one by one, took two pictures with each one, gave them his autograph. He did that for about four hours.

Even though he was insanely busy at that time.

He was. But he also made the children that were there very happy. On the morning of the day Mayuko’s condition got critical, I said to hide-san on the phone, “She might not make it.” When I told him, “If she could just hear your voice, even on the phone, one more time,” he rushed over immediately.

He was in Tokyo at that time?

Getting there took him about two hours. When I went to escort hide-san to the entrance of the sterile room, I found that his parents had also come. I couldn’t help but burst into tears.

So it wasn’t just a relationship between hide-san and Mayuko-san, but also between their families.

Yes, we are still in contact with each other.

What is the story behind your store’s signature dish, the “Promised Cheesecake”?

There was a notebook in which we wrote about our feelings as parents, about Mayuko’s condition and all, and on the first page of it, hide-san wrote a message. It seems he learned from someone that Mayuko loved cheesecake, so he left the message “Let’s have a cheesecake together that’s so amazing it turns into cheese.” However, he passed away before Mayuko was well enough to eat cheesecake again, so they never got to eat it together. When we started our shop, we served cheesecake because she liked it. Later, when Mayuko passed away, I put a lot of cheesecake in her coffin, saying, “You can finally eat cheesecake with hide-chan.” When someone heard that story, they said, “You should turn that story into a decent name,” and so I came up with “The promised cheesecake”.

That’s a wonderful episode.

The fact that he wrapped that scarf around himself, and came rushing when she was in critical condition… There’s so much more. The last time we saw hide-san was after X JAPAN’s Last Live, when he invited us to the afterparty at his office. At that time, Mayuko just had a transplant and couldn’t eat raw food. Hide-san said, “Mayuko can only have food that has been cooked, right?” and handed us cooked food, saying, “Here, this is for Mayuko.” After that, he got food for me, my husband, and my older daughter, saying, “Anything is fine.” I think he was worried that we might be too restrained to eat much. It seems that he liked making people happy, and he did everything by himself. We were the first to leave, but he came to see us off to the car.

When his fans come to the café, I tell them a lot of stories like this. I want to convey to them, “Your beloved hide-chan was such a wonderful person.”

Hide-san really was wonderful, wasn’t he?

However, the people around X JAPAN and hide-san are all like that. The seventh anniversary of Mayuko’s death came up in 2015, and we were discussing doing something for it at the store, when GEORGE (Abiko Shinonkai, LADIESROOM), who often performs on the second floor, said, “If we put word out, everyone will come. We might not be able to schedule it for Wakayama, so let’s do it at a live house in Chiba”, and we did a two-days event. PATA-san came on both days. YOSHIKI-san had something else scheduled, so he sent a video message. TAKURO of GLAY also send a video message. J-san, SUGIZO-san, and RYUICHI-san of LUNA SEA also performed on stage. There were so many others who participated.

At the time of her funeral, PATA-san and INA-san were among those that came for it. When we told the people of hide-san’s office that she had passed away, they closed the office in Tokyo and everyone came as well. They also send a fax to the music industry, because “Mayuko-chan was one of us, so we will let everyone know.” Then, we received flowers from all over the country, around 80 bouquets or so. I was surprised. That they would go that far for us.

Were there people who acted ungraciously towards Mayuko-san out of jealousy?

When the story of her meeting hide-san through Make a Wish was aired on TV, they checked the contents of the letters meant for us at the TV station, because “there might be some nasty ones”. But there were no such letters at all, so the people from the station said, “It’s probably okay to send them directly” and passed them on to us unopened. Even then, there was not a single on that I didn’t like.

That’s amazing! Even though he had so many fans.

Yes. There even was one person who wrote, “I used to refuse to go to school, but I started again when I saw Mayuko working so hard.”

Mayuko-san was an inspiration.

I got this kind of comment several times. Also, Mayuko never said it was hard. A nurse once asked her, “Why do you never talk about how exhausting and painful it is?” She replied, “If I say it’s hard, hearing that would make it even harder for my mother.”…

Both hide-san and Mayoko-san were caring people.

That’s probably where they were on the same wavelength.

Even though she was still in her teens and it was difficult for her.

About a year after her transplant, her condition became critical. At that time, the boy in the next room was also in a bad state, and it was a situation where people would wonder, “Which of them is going to die first?” When Mayuko heard that the boy was celebrating his ninth birthday those days, she asked me, “Please buy ten flowers, one for each year, with money from my wallet, and give them to him.” When I told her, “He’s nine years old,” I got the reply, “He worked hard to make it to nine years, so it matters if he gets even one day closer to being ten.” It’s the weight of a single day that only a child battling illness can understand.

In that sense, when hide-can gave us hope, he didn’t speak of things far in advance. When he says, “I’ll call you the day after tomorrow,” doesn’t it make you think that you will do your best until the day after tomorrow? It’s not, “We’ll do this after you get better.” Instead of speaking of vague big things, he would talk about simple goals that were within reachable distance. He was someone who encouraged people that way. I guess that was the way hide-san was thinking.

They were both really amazing. Hide-san also registered as a bone marrow donor.

That’s right. There was a press conference when he did, but hide-san hadn’t intended for it to become such a big deal. When they heard, “Hide-san says he’s going to register as a donor, how should we go about that?” from someone at the office, people started to talk about it. Someone who happened to know about this matter set the conference up, and afterwards, hide-san was angry, saying, “I didn’t want for it to be this way, I was going to do it just like anyone else.” That said, eight people from his staff at that time and from those who came for the news coverage ended up registering as donors as well.

What did Mayuko-san think when she heard about hide-san’s donor registration?

I told her about it, thinking it would make her happy. But when I did so, she bust into tears. As a matter of fact, because she was herself a recipient of a transplant, she couldn’t register as a donor for the rest of her life. That’s why she said, “I can’t have a donor card with hide-chan.”

I guess those were feelings only she could have.

She said, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get that card. I was taken aback.

When did Mayuko-san learn about hide-san’s death?

On the day he passed away, she had an examination at the hospital. She had turned her mobile phone off for the examination, and when she turned it back on afterwards, she immediately heard from a friend that he had died. She called his manager right away and was told, “Yes, it’s true. We wanted to let you know before you heard it from anyone else, but we couldn’t get through.” She had actually been planning to go to the pub run by hide-san’s parents in Yokosuka that evening after her hospital visit, and she had heard that “if circumstances allowed it, hide-san might be there too.” (After hearing about this death) Mayuko was so depressed she didn’t speak, didn’t eat. The morning of the next day, I received a phone call from hide-san’s mother, who asked, “Will it have an impact on Mayu-chan’s health, what happened to hide?”

Even though her own son had just passed away, she was so concerned about Mayuko-san.

Both parent and child were so kind. So, when Mayuko went to Tsukiji-Honganji (where hide’s body was laid to rest), a lot of people talked to her there. One musician told her, “I used to go drinking with hide, and before we got drunk, he would say, ‘Now that Mayuko’s condition has improved, I am a little more at ease’, and then he’d drink.” Others also told her this, and even a work friend from L.A. let her know that hide-san told them, “If Mayuko’s health gets a little better, I want to show her around Los Angeles.”

It’s sad to hear stories like that.

But, you see, everyone was like that. When the time came for the final parting at Honganji, YOSHIKI-san took Mayuko’s hand next to the coffin and said, “Mayu-chan, until now hide has taken care of you. From now on, all of us are going to do that.”

YOSHIKI-san took good care of Mayuko-san as well, even though that time was painful for him, too.

When we returned to the waiting room from the venue of the afterparty that first time we met, YOSHIKI-san was there. When hide-san asked him, “What’s up?”, he said, “I was waiting for the two of you,” and the three of them walked on holding hands. He also came to our house after hide-san had passed away.

You are all connected by your feelings for hide-san, aren’t you?

It’s amazing how that relationship continues even now, isn’t it? When hide-san died, I thought that would be the end of it, but it has kept going past that point. Even now that Mayuko has passed away, it’s still going on. I am grateful for that.

Back then, Mayuko was exchanging mails with hide-san. Really short ones, like Mayuko telling him, “I started to keep goldfish” and hide-san sending, “Lately, it’s been raining all the time.” It was all trivial. But, in the period between X JAPAN’s breakup being decided and the announcement being made, hide-san told her, “Mayuko, your mails really comforted me.”

They were connected to each other in their hearts, weren’t they? A lot of people come to Lemoned Café, but what kind of place do you want it to be?

For some reason, even people who come here for the first time end up calling us “Mom and Dad”. There are even people who come from far away, so we want to keep it open as much as we can. Everyone is coming, so I want to continue doing this event for an entire year.

The day of the interview was the monthly anniversary of Mayuko's passing. The customers at the café ranged from people who had met Mayuko in person to high school students who had come to the café for the first time in April, and it was impressive to watch them chat cheerfully with each other. When asked about Mayuko, they all said, “She was a really kind girl, like an angel” and “She was a mysterious person who makes me feel like the bad side of me is being cleansed when I talk about her.” One woman said, “There are a lot of sacred places, but this one feels like home.”  Even now, the memory of hide and Mayuko-san lives on inside many people’s hearts.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Fëanorian Week - Celegorm

And it's not getting better :D Let's hurt Tyelko a little, shall we?

Words: 520

Characters: Celegorm & Nerdanel, Celegorm & Curufin

Prompts: Childhood, Hunting, Strength & Beauty, Nargothrond

Warnings:Sadness, loss, death of a child, doom, bad decisions

Rough, calloused fingers slid fervently along the worn curves of the small figurine, which had melted like ice in the sun over countless years of struggle and strife to the point where it had long since become unrecognisable.

The tiny creature—he couldn’t even remember whether it had originally been a bear or a wolf—was Celegorm’s best-kept secret.

He’d loved animals for as long as he could recall, and it had undoubtedly been in an effort to keep him from sneaking out of the nursery and into the woods that Nerdanel, famous and justly extolled sculptress, had crafted this little companion to soothe his desire for adventure and freedom.

Maybe, he now thought as he rubbed his hidden talisman yet again to strengthen his resolve and quieten the voice of doubt and agony within his mind, it didn’t matter what fey savage beast his mother had had in mind.

A heavy, sturdy child, Celegorm had certainly often reminded her of a bear cub himself as she stood, harried by dark foreboding, beside his crib with a worried frown.

Even in so frivolous an endeavour, Nerdanel had not let herself grow negligent, and it was a shame that his nigh-on superstitious habit of touching the stone doll had irrevocably erased so many of the marvellous details she had carved in meticulous handiwork.

Curufin, stern and solemn, shook his head almost imperceptibly—he might have known or at least guessed with what his solitary brother toyed in the depths of his pocket. Still, he preferred not to bring up their parents if not absolutely necessary for fear that it would irrevocably break their spirits and keep them from pursuing their path with the necessary determination.

Fate was unravelling fast now, and Celegorm was reminded abruptly of the fact that he’d never been good at making sensible decisions. He’d have to blindly rely on his brother’s cold intelligence and the residual maternal magic with which his childhood charm was imbued.

For the first time in his life, Celegorm didn’t feel heartened and comforted by his mother’s craft, though, and he clenched his teeth stubbornly as this last despicable act of disloyalty and betrayal stripped him of every remaining blessing he’d been hitherto granted.

“Are you ready?”

He nodded. What else could he do? They’d soon leave Nargothrond in hopes of salvation and pursuit of inevitable desolation, and—no matter how much any of them wished things to be different—there was nought he could do to change the tide of destiny.

Following his brother, Celegorm considered shortly leaving his most precious treasure to be buried and forgotten along with Finrod’s jewels and the vestiges of their honour, but his fingers wouldn’t unclasp.

In the end, feeling the gentle caress of death falling over him like a ghostly shroud, Celegorm slipped the unidentifiable stone guardian into the pocket of a silver-haired boy who stood, crying noiselessly, over the broken body of his father.

“Mother,” Celegorm mouthed, hoping against all hope that his faithful fetich would manage one more miracle and keep another wild-eyed, fey boy safe in the dangerous darkness of the woods.

-> Masterlist

@feanorianweek, and we go on...

[minty-mumbles]

And the Universe Said I Love You (Ch. 2)

Summary: Late one summer night, a half fae child being hunted for their magical blood stumbled into the temple of the gods and claimed sanctuary. Years later, Hyrule is still living in the temple, working to keep it tidy and operating smoothly. And for some reason, the gods have taken a keen interest in them.

AN: Thank you to @breannasfluff for being a huge help with this chapter! I also have a list of the gods/ their domains at the end of this fic

TW: Child sacrifice is discussed in this chapter

(Read on AO3)

~~~

The temple always got eerily dark at night. After the worshippers had left and the sun went down, Hyrule would snuff out all the lanterns that hung along the walls. The only remaining light came from where the moon shone through the windows and the two torches outside Wild’s shrine room that burned with strange teal flames. Hyrule knew better than to try and snuff out the holy flames of the wild god. It wouldn’t work, and would only serve to irritate Wild. 

Back at the beginning of Hyrule’s stay in the temple, they’d been afraid to wander at night. That was before they’d been given a permanent position as the temple's tender, and they were simply a child looking for sanctuary. The temple at night had seemed dark and cold back then. It had been too strange, too foreign to see the halls silent and empty. 

During the nights, Hyrule would do their best to hide away in the windowless storeroom they’d claimed as their sleeping chamber. With no moonlight to illuminate the room, it had still been dark, but at least it hadn’t been the cavernous hallways that felt like they would swallow Hyrule whole.

Even after the gods had given Hyrule their job, they’d tried their best not to wander after the sun went down. They’d snuff out the lights as quickly as they could and scurry back to their room, which by then had been filled with a simple bed and chest to store their clothing.

Now, after two years of living and working in the temple, that uncomfortable feeling Hyrule got at night had long since faded. The darkness of the temple at night was comfortable, and the silence gave them time to reflect on the day. The nights were peaceful and serene, now, no longer haunted by bad memories. 

Even the cold flickering light of the Wild’s holy fire served to remind Hyrule that even if Wild- who Hyrule now considered a friend- preferred to remain out of the city, he was a constant presence in the temple just as the other gods were. 

When Hyrule couldn't sleep, they often took to wandering the halls. That was what they were doing tonight. It had been a slow day at the temple. Nothing exciting had happened and Hyrule hadn’t needed to do much physical work, so they weren’t tired yet. 

The wind was strong tonight, blowing in through the windows. It came from the north, and if Hyrule concentrated enough, they swore they could smell the scent of the Lost Woods carried on the breeze. They breathed in deeply, letting the familiar smell soothe away their worries.

‘Hyrule.’ The sound of someone’s voice startled them. Barring a few special rituals dedicated to Twilight, people didn’t come to the temple in the middle of the night. As it wasn’t the full moon or new moon tonight, they hadn’t expected anyone to be here. 

They whirled around, half expecting to see someone who had come to ask for sanctuary, just as they themself had. But no. It wasn’t even a Hylian- or any other kind of mortal. 

The figure that towered in front of them was monstrous in a beautiful kind of way. It would’ve been difficult to see them in the dim light, if not for the faint white glow that the figure emitted. 

Distantly, Hyrule noticed the blue flames of Wild’s torches spluttering and going out as the night wind picked up speed, blowing clouds over the moon. In response to the newfound darkness, the creature began to glow brighter, its shine lighting up the whole hallway.

The figure was tall, towering so far above Hyrule that its head nearly brushed the ceiling. It had two pairs of arms, each held neatly in front of the creature, folded as if in prayer. From the knees down, its legs gradually faded from tanned skin to white feathers, and instead of feet, the legs ended in the golden talons of a bird of prey. 

A large red bird of a species Hyrule didn’t recognize was perched atop the figure's head. Its wings were stretched forward, covering the majority of the figure’s face from Hyrule’s view. 

The bird tilted its head, eyes locked onto Hyrule as if it were inspecting them. They wondered, briefly, if the figure was seeing through the bird’s eyes instead of whatever was hidden beneath the bird's wings

The figure was clothed in draped pastel robes that were cinched at the waist with a belt of gold studded with opals. Around the figure’s knees, the fabric of the robes faded into swirling clouds, filling the hallway with a sweet-smelling mist. The belt wasn't the only piece of jewelry that adorned the figure. It was practically dripping in gold, with a thick gold band around its throat, and its ears adorned with delicate chains. Clutched in the bottom pair of its hands, a necklace with the symbol of the triforce swung slowly in the breeze.

Hyrule should have been frightened by such a creature appearing suddenly behind them, but they knew who this was. They’d never seen him appear in such a form, but they’d heard of it and seen drawings in books held in the ancient library that filled most of the second floor of the temple. 

This was Sky, appearing in a form usually reserved for when he showed himself at royal ceremonies or when he decided to bless someone personally. None of the gods had ever appeared before Hyrule like this, in a form that was so obviously Hylian yet not at the same time. Sometimes things seemed off about the forms they took, like Twilight’s eyes, which remained the eyes of a wolf no matter what shape he took. (And sometimes Twilight appeared as an animal, But an animal was much different than this)

Sky’s presence was oppressive and although Hyrule wasn’t afraid, they couldn’t help but take a stumbling step backwards.

Sky’s lips turned downward for a moment. Hyrule couldn’t figure out what the god was thinking without being able to see his eyes. The thought that they might’ve displeased Sky enough for him to appear like this before them sent a bolt of terror through their heart. 

‘Be Not Afraid.’ Sky’s mouth did not move as he spoke, but his voice rang through Hyrule's head like a bell.

“I’m not afraid.” Hyrule managed to speak without stuttering even as they lied. They knew that anyone else would have fallen to their knees in reverence by now. Their familiarity with the god was the only thing keeping them on their feet. 

Sky did not answer, but he continued to frown down at Hyrule. After a moment, Hyrule felt compelled to speak to fill the silence. 

“I just didn’t expect you- you're very large, that’s all.” Hyrule cringed. Why did they say that? Gods, they were an idiot. They didn’t even know why Sky was here, but they were already saying things that the god could very easily take offense to. 

At least they managed to stop themself from mentioning how unnatural it looked for something shaped like a Hylian to possess two pairs of arms and bird-like talons instead of feet, and that it also didn’t help that Hyrule couldn’t see their eyes which prevented them from gaining a better understanding of what the god was thinking. Saying that probably would not have gone over well, no matter how much Hyrule was in Sky’s good graces.

Sky tilted his head slowly as if considering something, and Hyrule waited with bated breath for him to make his next move. Their heart pounded as they gazed up at the gigantic figure, and their body remained tense as if they had any hope of outrunning the god.

Suddenly, a strong wind howled through the temple. It was fierce enough that Hyrule instinctively brought their arms up to cover their face, stumbling back another few steps. When the wind had died down, and they gained the courage to peek out from behind their arms, they saw that the towering figure of the god was gone, replaced by a much more reasonably sized person.

Sky was still tall, nearly seven feet, but he could no longer pick Hyrule up in one hand if he so desired. It did help Hyrule relax a little. The bird had shrunk too, and as Hyrule watched it seemed to come to life, withdrawing its wings from where they were stretched in front of Sky’s eyes and ruffling its feathers. 

The bird’s movement revealed Sky’s eyes. They were a piercing blue, the exact same shade as the morning sky on a clear summer’s day. His eyes held such fondness as he looked at Hyrule that the breath stuttered in their chest. 

Knowing that Sky wasn’t angry at them made the last bit of tension bleed out of Hyrule’s shoulders, but the affection shown just made them blush in embarrassment. Despite their embarrassment, they didn't dare turn their eyes away from the god.

In a burst of movement that drew Hyrule’s attention away from studying Sky’s face, the bird atop the god’s head took flight. As it flew, it seemed to shift, changing midair. Its size diminished so rapidly that for a moment Hyrule thought it was going to disappear completely, but by the time the bird landed on Sky’s shoulder, it had stopped shrinking. Its form was more familiar now. It looked like a little songbird, although Hyrule was still unable to identify its species. 

They realized that it must be Crimson, Sky’s.... pet? Hyrule had never asked what Crimson was exactly, but they knew that the bird was very precious to Sky. 

Sky reached up a hand to his shoulder, letting Crimson hop onto his fingers. He absently pet the top of the bird's head, all while continuing to stare at Hyrule. His gaze was no less affectionate than it was before, but now there was an undercurrent of contemplation. 

‘Hyrule, do you know how gods are made?’

The question that rang through their mind caught Hyrule completely off guard. That was one of the last things they would expect a god to ask them, let alone Sky after he showed up in such an imposing form. 

“No more than most mortals do. I-” Hyrule cut themself off, not knowing if Sky would want to hear the specifics. Sky tilted his head curiously, an action that made him look remarkably bird-like, and Hyrule felt compelled to continue. 

“You made most of them? Except for Wild and Wind. They used to be mortals, and you turned them into gods.” Hyrule hesitated to say anything more, as that was all the information they had on the subject. How gods were made was knowledge that had been kept away from the minds of mortals, and Hyrule had, for once, not been an exception in this. 

‘Do you know how I made Wind and Wild into Gods?’

Hyrule shakes his head slowly. Where was Sky going with this series of questions? Why was he here in the first place? Although Hyrule had told Sky they weren’t afraid, and Sky shrinking to a more reasonable size had elevated his more primal fears, Hyrule was still uneasy. What had prompted the god to appear to them in such a form?

 ‘The world is full of magic, Hyrule. Gods depend on that magic to survive. It is what makes us what we are. Sometimes, magic starts to build up in the world and when this happens I can, if I choose, create a godling. Something that is not a god yet, but has the potential to be.”

Hyrule knew their mouth was hanging open, but they couldn't help it. Why on earth was Sky telling them this?

A frown came over Sky’s face. Crimson chirped, nudging at Sky’s fingers, and attempting to comfort its master. ‘Godlings… they do not always survive long enough to become full-fledged gods.’ 

Hyrule sucked in a deep breath, surprised. They’d had no idea that gods could die. This was something deeply personal, more invasive than anything the gods had ever told them before. They reached out hesitantly, wanting to comfort the god, but thinking better of it at the last second and withdrawing their hand. “Sky, I’m so sorry. I never knew…”

Sky sent him a sad smile. ‘You have nothing to be sorry for. It is the way of things. One of these godlings was named Spirit. I intended for him to watch over the dead. He did not live long enough to even make his first physical form.’ 

For the first time since he had revealed his eyes, Sky broke eye contact with Hyule. He looked away, and Hyrule was horrified to see that tears were gathering in the god’s eyes. 

The entire hallway grew darker as the glow Sky emitted dimmed. Even the light from the moon outside seemed to weaken, as if Twilight had been listening to what Sky was saying and was also reliving the anguish of losing a sibling. 

Crimson screeched, flying off Sky’s fingers and disappearing out a window as the atmosphere grew more oppressive by the second. 

In a split-second decision, Hyrule moved forward, throwing his arms around Sky’s waist. They doubted they could offer much comfort to a god, but they couldn’t let someone who they thought of as a friend stand there crying from grief and not do anything.

Sky made a startled noise- still in that strange echo in Hyrule’s head that wasn’t truly speaking- before relaxing into the hug, and returning it. It was a bit awkward with Sky being two feet taller than Hyrule and having an extra set of arms, but Sky didn’t pull away so Hyrule didn’t either.

After a while, Sky’s glow returned to normal, and he drew back, so Hyrule followed his lead.  

‘You’re so sweet, Hyrule.’ Hyrule blushed.

Sky sighed, deciding to continue his story. “Spirit didn't have time to absorb much of the magic I had gathered for him. Soon after that was when we met Wind. He was such a sweet boy, so lively and mischievous. At first, he simply reminded us of Spirit, but as he grew, he quickly became his own person in our eyes, and the thought of losing yet another person we cared for so soon- We just couldn’t stand it. What happened to him is Wind’s tale to tell, but suffice to say we found out that gathered magic can also be fed to mortals to make them into godlings.”

It was strange to hear someone talk about magic as if it were a physical, tangible thing that could be eaten but Hyrule supposed, to a god, magic would be very different. “So after you figured that out, you met Wild, grew fond of him, and…” They tilted their head. 

Sky smiled. ‘And I made him a godling too, yes. I’m sure you already know most of the story of how he died. Wild is more open to speaking about it than Wind. I think mortals know the tale?’ 

Hyrule nodded, but they were growing more and more curious. “Why are you telling me this?” 

Sky didn’t respond, but continued to look down at them with soft eyes. Hyrule realized rather abruptly that during the course of their conversation, Sky’s eyes had shifted from a soft summer’s-day blue to a lovely pastel purple. 

The god sighed again, but this time, it was less heavy and more affectionate. Leaning down, Sky gently cupped Hyrule's cheek and smiled at them. His touch was gentle and warm, but his skin was rough with callouses covering his fingers. Hyrule couldn’t help but lean into the touch just slightly. 

Between one moment and the next, just as quickly as he had appeared, Sky was gone. In an instant, there was no trace of him anywhere. The moon was just as bright as it should be outside, and Wild’s torches were lit again as if they had never gone out.

The temple was silent once again. The only sound was the distant yells of people in town who had taken more than their share of ale. 

Later that night, Hyrule lay in their bed, ears pinned back in a show of discomfort as a headache pounded against their skull. Apparently, listening to the voice of a god echo inside your head for an extended period of time could be bad for you. Who knew?  

It didn’t escape Hyrule that Sky had never answered them when they’d asked why he’d told Hyrule all that he had. It didn’t make any sense. Why would Sky feel the need to offer up that information voluntarily? It wasn’t like Hyrule had asked him. Sky had just appeared in the middle of the night and told Hyrule of his own free will.

It didn’t make any sense. Why would Sky tell them about how mortals could become gods? That seemed like something that would be a carefully kept secret.

Hyrule’s swirling thoughts mixed with the throbbing pain in their skull until there weren’t any coherent thoughts left. They hovered on the brink of sleep, unable to rest while their brain still sent shockwaves of pain through their head. 

It could have been their imagination, but suddenly they feel a hand brushing their hair aside. 

A gentle palm feeling their forehead. 

A soft voice, and instant relief as the pain subsided all at once.

As they slipped out of consciousness, they could have sworn they heard a familiar voice softly singing a strange melody. 

The strange conversation with Sky didn’t leave their head for weeks. They don’t see Sky again for a while, and the absence of the god is more noticeable than Hyrule thought it would be. They missed seeing him around. When had Hyrule gotten so attached, they wondered?  

The other gods continued to visit, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but every so often Hyrule caught one of them shooting them a strange look when they thought Hyrule wasn't watching.

~~~

Not all weather could be attributed to the actions of a god. Most of it was simply due to nature acting the way it had been designed to act by the gods when they’d first created the rain and snow and sun. 

But even Hyrule was starting to suspect that this wasn’t a natural storm. The rain had been lashing fiercely against the sides of the temple since morning, and not a single person had been brave enough to venture out into the weather to come pray.

Never in their time living in Castle Town had Hyrule seen it rain so hard. Thunder seemed to echo through the temple every thirty seconds, and the downpour was unrelenting. Hyrule could hear it pounding on the roof of the temple from inside his small room.

Hyrule sat on their bed, a blanket spread over their lap, and a book laid open over that. Lit candles were scattered around their room, giving them enough light to read by. The book they were inspecting was one that was usually kept in the temple's library, but Hyrule hadn’t felt bad about squirreling it away to his room today. It wasn’t like there was anyone else there who would need it.

When Hyrule first came to the temple, they didn't know how to read. Their mother hadn’t seen any value in teaching them and hadn’t known Hylian letters anyways. Legend had been personally offended when he’d discovered this and had made it his mission to teach Hyrule how to read. After two years, Hyrule had advanced greatly. They were able to read most things without help now. 

The book spread across their lap was a collection of ancient fairy tales. It wasn’t the most engaging thing Hyrule had ever read. It had been written for a child to read and was simple in its word choice, but it was something to take their mind off the howling winds outside, so Hyrule couldn’t complain. 

They twitched as a crack of thunder echoed through the temple. Their eyes didn’t leave the page but they were no longer paying any attention to the words. That was the loudest thunder they’d heard from the storm so far. Hyrule wondered briefly if lightning had struck the temple itself. 

That would be a very bad omen.

Hyrule wondered which god was angry. Realistically, it could only be a few of them, only those who had domain over the sky and storms. Sky, perhaps, or Wind, maybe even Wild.

Right as Hyrule bought their attention back to the book on their lap, they became aware of a quiet dripping sound. Was there a leak in the roof? Hyrule frowned, twisting around to find the source of the noise.

What they saw startled them so badly that they let out a small yelp and slammed their book closed. 

A soulful-looking child stood behind them. He looked so bedraggled that Hyrule almost didn’t recognize him as Wind. 

He wasn't wearing the blue tunic he usually favored, instead dressed in the typical garb one would find in some of the poorer villages along the coast. The god was barefoot, not even wearing sandals. His golden hair was slicked down and turned a duller color from the water that plastered it to his head.  

Water dripped from Wind’s clothes and air, creating a pool at his feet which grew too quickly for the amount that was dripping off of him. His head was tilted down, and Hyrule couldn’t make out his face, but his skin had an unhealthy blue tinge to it. He looked like a drowned ghost, coming back to haunt the living.

Hyrule suppressed a shudder. Now they knew which god was causing the storm.

They waited patiently for Wind to speak, but minutes dragged by and Wind didn’t move his eyes up from the ground to look at them. 

After a while, Hyrule hesitantly set their book and blanket aside, slowly scooching their way off the bed. They planned to approach the god slowly, just in case, but the first step they took towards the god made Wind’s head snap up to face him.

Wind’s lips had a purple tinge to them, and his eyes were sunken in. Tears dripped continuously from his eyes, faster than any Hylian should be able to produce tears. 

Hyrule shivered. “Wind, I can't help you if I don't know what’s wrong.”

Wind stared at them soulfully for a moment, and Hyrule started to think he wasn’t going to say anything before the god spoke. “You can’t help. Not unless you're able to beat some sense into every single mortal who thinks that they know the will of the gods.” Wind's voice was quiet, but filled with boiling anger. 

His voice grew louder as he continued. “What gives them the right? What makes them think they know what I want!” The god gave a short, wordless yell, his hand flying up to tug on his hair. 

Instinctively, Hyrule reached out, gently trying to remove Wind’s hands from where they were tangled in his wet tresses. Tugging on his hair like that can’t feel pleasant, god or no. Wind allowed Hyrule to take his hands into theirs, but he didn’t look calmed in the slightest. Wind seemed to be working himself up into a true temper, and it made a sliver of fear appear in the back of Hyrule’s mind. 

They knew by now that Wind would never hurt them on purpose, but a god’s anger could be destructive. 

“When has that ever been okay? Why did no one stop her? Why, why, WHY?” Wind was screaming by the last word, and a chorus of thunder echoed from outside to accompany his cries. His anger had morphed into hurt.

Hyrule didn’t know what had happened, or who “she” was, but they could see it was time to do some damage control before Wind summoned a storm inside Hyrule’s bedroom and accidentally fried them with a lightning bolt.

With a sharp tug on Wind’s hands, Hyrule drew the young god into a hug starting a mantra of soft reassurances and soothing words. Wind, who wasn’t paying attention to Hyrule by this point, was taken off guard. He fell into the hug with a wheeze, his next yell stolen from him.

It took a while for Wind to calm, for water to stop pouring from his eyes, and for color to start to return to his skin, washing away the unhealthy pallor he’d had before. As Wind’s cries grew quieter so too did the storm outside, being reduced to a steady but much less forceful patter of rain on the Temple’s roof. Hyrule managed to draw Wind over to his bed and sat the both of them down, not minding how wet the god would make their blankets. 

When Wind has been reduced to quietly sniffling at irregular intervals, Hyrule finally felt like they could ask what happened. What could cause a god to become so upset? And why would he come to Hyrule for comfort instead of any of the other gods? It baffled them.

Hyrule asked, but Wind simply shook his head into Hyrule’s chest, obviously not wanting to speak about it. But by then, Hyrule's curiosity has been thoroughly roused, along with their concern and no small amount of protectiveness over the child clinging to them. 

Wind was a god. He could protect himself, and he certainly didn’t need protection from Hyrule. Knowing that didn’t soothe Hyrule’s anxieties. “Come on, you don’t have to say much, just let me know what’s going on, okay?”

Wind eventually pulled back from the embrace, wiping away the last of his tears. He looked much better than before, no longer looking like a dead body at least. He looked more like a sick child who fell in a puddle

Wind looked up at Hyrule with fresh tears welling in his eyes. “One of the fishing villages along the coast was going through a rough spot- the fishing was just getting worse and worse. People were going hungry. There was a woman, who had just given birth to a baby girl. The woman wasn’t… well. Something went wrong with her birth, and she nearly died. Wanted nothing to do with her daughter after that.”

Hyrule nodded along with the story but was no closer to understanding what had caused Wind to become so upset. It was a sad tale, yes, but it happened sometimes- mothers falling into agony, trapped in their own minds after they give birth. There must be more to the story than that if it made Wind so upset.

And indeed, Wind carried on. “When the famine started, she got it into her mind that we had sent her child to her as a test of some sort. She became convinced the only way to end the starvation was to kill the child. She waded out into the water and held her baby under until she stopped moving. She just- didn’t stop. And she kept praying to me the who- whole t- time.” 

Wind’s voice started hitching like he was about to cry again. “Everyone sa- aw her. There was a whole crowd there. No one stopped her. Why did no one stop her?” 

Despite the waver in Wind’s voice and his hitching breath, he didn’t start crying again. Instead, he simply leaned forward, burying his head in Hyrule’s chest and returning to their positions from earlier. He sounded so defeated.

“Oh,” was all Hyrule could force out. That was worse than he was expecting. They shuddered, suppressing the urge to make noise in reaction to that, but they were sure Wind could feel their shiver. 

When times got hard, people got desperate. If they got desperate enough, they would be willing to try anything to gain the gods’ favor, even Hylian sacrifice. It was illegal, of course, and doubly so if the victim was unwilling, but people still did it occasionally

But child sacrifice? That was beyond cruel, and even people who weren’t as well acquainted with the gods as Hyrule was would know they wouldn’t approve of that. Mentally, Hyrule offered up a prayer that the child’s soul would find peace.

“She will. I made sure of it.” Wind spoke, startling Hyrule when it seemed he had replied to their thoughts. Then they realized that was exactly what they’d done. Hyrule hadn’t directed the prayer to Wind specifically but the spirits of the dead, afterlife, and reincarnation was Wind’s purview. Of course he’d heard Hyrule’s prayer. 

“And the mother?” Hyrule inquired hesitantly. They couldn’t imagine that Wind had granted the woman’s prayer for more food, not after she had killed her child in Wind’s name. Especially not when he seemed so distressed by it.

“They killed her.” Wind spoke softly, and monotone, all emotions leaching out of his voice. 

Hyrule tightened their grip on Wind. They weren't surprised she was dead. Not really. The courts would never be kind to someone who killed their child, especially when it was indisputable that they had done it. Hylian justice was strict in that regard. 

“I didn’t save her.” Still, his voice was flat, unusual for the overly expressive god.

Hyrule was left floundering at that. “Ah, did you want to save her?” The woman had offered Wind a sacrifice, after all. Had Hyrule misunderstood why Wind was so upset? Maybe he had accepted the sacrifice, and he was upset the woman had been punished so severely.

The thought of Wind accepting Hylian sacrifices made Hyrule’s blood chill, and for a split second, Hyrule felt more fear than he ever had around Wind. They were also insignificant to the gods. Half fae they may be, but they were still mortal.

Wind shook his head into Hyrule’s chest. Relief flooded Hyrule, and they barely managed to keep their voice from shaking as they asked, “Then why are you upset?”

“Because I didn’t want to save her. I thought she deserved to die.” Wind looked up at Hyrule with wide mournful eyes. “Did she?” 

 It was as if he was waiting for Hyrule to cast judgment- as if Hyrule was in any position to judge a god for their actions, let alone their thoughts. When Hyrule didn’t speak one way or the other, Wind continued. “I should have stopped them, but I didn’t.” 

Wind sounded so defeated. “Why is murder the answer to murder? Why do Hylians take others' lives? We gave Hylians free will. We try not to interfere. But sometimes it just goes so badly… And to do things like that in our names, as if we told them to...” Wind trails off, seemingly at a loss for words. 

Hyrule could have said something about Hylian law listing death as a suitable punishment for the murder of a child, that by the judgment of a Hylian court, what had happened to the mother had been lawful. 

They didn’t, though. They were sure Wind was already well aware of that and didn’t need a reminder. 

Wind seemed to go slack in Hyrule’s arms, allowing them to support him. It was as if he was waiting for them to cast judgment- as if Hyrule was in any position to judge a god for their actions. When Hyrule didn’t speak one way or the other, Wind looked up at them. “She could have gotten help. She might have gotten better.” 

Hyrule wondered again why Wind had come to them for this. Why hadn’t he gone to one of the older gods? They would no doubt be better equipped to deal with this. But Wind hadn’t. He’d gone to Hyrule, so they would just have to help the best they could. “Maybe, but you can’t control what other people do.” Wind probably could but that wasn’t the point.

Neither of them spoke anymore after that, simply sitting on Hyrule’s bed in silence. Wind’s hiccups slowly pestered out until his breathing was even, and after a while, Hyrule realized he was asleep. It was strange- sleep seemed like the last thing a god would require but here they were, cradling a teenage god who was dead to the world. 

On the upside, Wind no longer looked like a sickly child who had fallen into a puddle. He looked more or less like himself again, even if he was rather damp. Paying no mind to the moisture soaking into their blankets, Hyrule laid Wind down so he would be more comfortable. Tucking him in, Hyrule hesitated, realizing this meant they would have nowhere to sleep. 

They considered it. Their bed would be big enough for both of them, yes, but it might be more cozy that was strictly comfortable. Shaking their head, Hyrule climbed into bed next to Wind. The boy had already cried in their embrace for at least an hour. Hyrule doubted he would mind them sleeping in the same bed.

Hyrule soon followed Wind into unconsciousness. When they woke in the morning Wind was already gone, but to Hyrule’s relief, when they stepped out of the temple, they found the morning had dawned bright and sunny. 

~~~

Hyrule had only stepped outside for a few moments to go to the market to get something to eat for lunch. They returned with a meat pie wrapped in wax paper and a few apples tucked into their basket. There was a pep in their step as they looked forward to finding a quiet place to take a break and eat lunch. 

Maybe they could head up to the roof? They thought about it as they entered the building, quickly bypassing all the shrine rooms as they headed towards the staircase in the back of the building. The roof of the temple was accessible by a small staircase tucked away in the back of the library on the second floor, but Hyrule was convinced that most people didn’t even know you could access the roof. They’d never seen anyone but themself and the gods up there

Hyrule spent a lot of time on the roof. It was a nice private place to take in some fresh air and get some sun, but they also spent time tending to the rooftop garden.

About a year and a half ago, when it had become obvious that Hyrule would be staying in the temple permanently, a large section of the rooftop had been transformed into a garden for them to tend to and harvest from.

Twilight had been the one to give Hyrule the garden, although Hyrule suspected that Time was also involved in the making of it. The god had woken them one early morning, demanding they accompany him to the rooftop. Hyrule, who at the time was much more cautious around the gods than they were now, had agreed hesitantly. 

They had worried slightly that Twilight was going to push them off the roof but followed him obediently up the staircase anyways. When they’d reached the top of the stairs, Hyrule was shocked to discover that the rooftop had been transformed overnight. There were now several large planting beds in the middle of the roof, each already filled with rich black soil. Twilight had handed them a shovel and a handful of seeds- both of which had appeared out of thin air- and instructed them to get to work. 

Twilight had handed them handful after handful of seeds and sprouts, all the while talking their ear off about proper growing techniques. It had slowly dawned on Hyrule that Twilight was expecting them to tend to this garden and harvest it when the time came. 

When they’d asked what the food was for, Twilight had looked at them like they’d grown a second head, and said “It’s for you, of course. Ya don’t think we expect you to live just off the salary we give ya, do ya?” At that, Twilight knelt down in the dirt next to Hyrule and helped them finish planting. 

So taking care of the garden had become part of their daily chores. The garden wasn’t large, nothing that would take Hyrule’s whole day to tend to, but it was nice to have something else to do besides clean.

Between the garden- which Hyrule suspected was producing more food than the amount of space allowed, but what did they know? They weren’t a farmer- and with the occasional rabbit or pheasant that Twilight or Wild would give him, Hyrule was less reliant on the markets for his food. 

After Wild had seen the garden for the first time, he’d perked up like an excited puppy. The next thing Hyrule knew, the roof also had a hearth, cooking pots, and a stack of firewood that never seemed to grow any smaller. Retroactively, Hyrule was grateful Wild had the foresight to give them a place to cook. The temple wasn’t designed to be lived in permanently and therefore lacked even a basic kitchen. 

(More often than not, Wild would take pity on them and cook for them. He said they were dismal at cooking, and Hyrule didn’t know enough about cooking to disagree.)

But some days, like today, Hyrule preferred to get out of the Temple and find something to eat in the marketplace. It's not like they lacked the money to do so. Twilight had said that he didn’t expect Hyrule to live off the money that the gods gave them, but in truth, Hyrule could easily do so. Some months he wasn’t even able to spend it all before he was given more.

Just as Hyrule reached the bottom of the stairs that led up to the second floor, their thoughts were abruptly cut off as a scream sounded from behind them. Someone was wailing in terror inside one of the shrine rooms. Hyrule turned on their heel and sprinted back in that direction.

A group of worshippers had already clustered around the door to Time’s shrine, so it was easy to locate where the scream had come from. People parted like water around a rock as Hyrule approached, recognizing him as the temple’s keeper and letting him through. Those who didn’t were grabbed by the people who stood next to them and hauled out of the way. Hyrule didn't spend any time reflecting on the authority they now held when it came to the temple and the gods, but it was definitely a weird feeling. 

Besides, it was probably less that the crowd respected them, and more likely that no one else wanted to be the first to enter the room. Firstly because whatever was that had caused the room’s inhabitant to scream like that couldn’t be good, and secondly because it was rude to enter a shrine while someone else was praying. Hyrule was mostly exempt from the second point, meaning it would be better to let them deal with the danger, whatever it was.

Before Hyrule could even reach the door, it burst open. A young man dressed in typical farmer’s garb came barreling out of the room in a flat sprint. The man was down the hall and out the door before any of the onlookers, including Hyrule, could get a word out.

The crowd around them murmured uneasily, but the sight eased Hyrule‘s worries a little. They’d been afraid that they might walk into the shrine to find a dead body. Thankfully, it seemed like that wouldn’t happen now.

The man had left the door to the shrine- a solid oak door carved with harvest motifs- open, not bothering to close it in his haste. It swung back and forth gently with the force the man had slammed it open with. Hyrule caught the door with a hand, steadying it. Steeling their nerves for whatever they would find inside, Hyrule entered the room. 

The first thing to hit them was the smell of the room, as it always did when they entered Time’s shrine room. It smelled like freshly grown grass, and deep dark forests, and if they concentrated it even smelled a bit like their mother’s fairy fountain. In short, it smelled like home and it always made some of the tension in their shoulders seep away 

The second thing they noticed was the towering figure standing in the middle of the room. For a second, Hyrule was reminded of the time, months ago, when Sky had appeared before Hyrule in a gigantic inhuman form. At least in this case, the figure had the correct number of limbs and was a more reasonable height. 

It was obviously Time- there was no one else it could be. Even if this form was different from what he usually took, it still looked remarkably like him. He wore silver armor, and a great double helix sword was strapped to his back. His hair was pure white, as were his eyes. The marks on his face remained, but they seemed brighter than usual, the only streak of color on the man’s body.

Both of his eyes were open, which was usual. Time preferred forms that had a large scar over one of his eyes. Hyrule had never heard the tale of how he’d gotten the scar, but it must have been a fight to boast of, if the god willingly kept the scar in all his forms.  

Hyrule could see why such a sight would frighten someone who was not accustomed to seeing the gods, even if this appearance was very similar to a Hylian’s. The god’s pupil-less eyes seemed to bore into your very soul as he looked at you.

“Lord of the Seasons,” Hyrule greeted, using one of the god’s many formal titles. They bowed low and didn’t rise from the bow or dare look up at the god before they were told to. Their basket tumbled out of their hands as they did so, but they let it

For perhaps the hundredth time since Hyrule had come to the temple, Hyrule thanked their mother for teaching them proper manners. Fae were notorious for their politeness, and their mother wasn’t going to send Hyrule off into the world without teaching them manners, whether they were only half fae or not. 

That meant that they had fit in quite well at the temple, back when they still maintained proper decorum with all the gods. Most others, unless they were nobility and had been raised in such environments, wouldn’t have known proper behavior.

Of course, those manners weren’t really needed anymore, but they still served Hyrule well in situations like these. They may have gained respect from the people of Castle Town by being the caretaker of the temple and they may be regarded as an authority on the will of the gods, but even then they couldn’t go around acting so casually toward them in public. 

Time’s voice responded to his greeting, albeit deeper than it normally was. ”Rise, supplicant,” He ordered.

Thankfully, it seemed Time also recognized the need to keep a formal distance between them. Hyrule pushed down a feeling of hurt that Time would call them a supplicant, as if they had been reduced to simply a worshiper at his shrine. There was no need to take it personally. Time was playing a part, just as Hyrule was. 

Hyrule rose, meeting Time’s eyes. (At least they were pretty sure they were meeting Time’s eyes. With no pupils, it was impossible to tell where the god was looking.)

With a wave of Time’s hand, the door to the room slammed shut in the faces of all the onlookers. It might have been Hyrule’s imagination, but they could have sworn that Time’s shoulders relaxed when they no longer had an audience. 

Hyrule knew Time hadn’t come here for them. If Time had wanted to speak to Hyrule, he could have appeared before them directly. Which meant that the god couldn’t be angry at them for some slight Hyrule hadn't realized they had committed. 

That and the fact Hyrule had gotten over being fearful of the strange forms they took. After being espoused to it for so long, the novelty of it had worn off. It took something very shocking- like Sky’s gigantic form- to startle them. 

Lacking any fear, Hyrule said, “Didn’t expect to see you here.” It was a casual greeting, one that you might give to a friend you met in the market. It seemed absurd to give such a greeting to a god, but a lot of things in Hyrule’s life were absurd and they had learned to live with it. 

 “He wanted advice.” Time spoke. Time’s face remained impassive and completely still. Hyrule yet to see any movement on the god’s face. It was as if the god were wearing a mask carved of wood. Time had an excellent poker face and rarely let emotions show, but he was usually a bit more expressive than this.

Hyrule blinked in confusion. “Who- oh, the young man who was in here before me?”

Time sighed, voice slightly irritated. “Yes.”

Hyrule knew that many people sought out the gods to ask for advice on a whole range of topics. Still, it was very rare for any of the gods to answer in person, let alone Time. Out of all the gods, he was the most seclusive, preferring to keep to himself and do his work from a distance. 

“What did he want advice about?” Hyrule said, wondering what would have drawn Time to visit.

Time lifted a hand to rub over his face, sounding exhausted when he spoke. “He wanted love advice. He said that since I was the only one of the gods who was married, I might have some wisdom for him.”

That certainly wasn't what Hyrule had been expecting. It was true- Time was the only married god, as far as Hyrule knew- but he wasn’t known as a god of love or anything like that. If you wanted advice on the softer aspects of things, you were better off praying to Sky, or perhaps even Four or Warriors.

Time nodded, perhaps seeing confusion on Hyrule’s face. “It’s unusual that I get a supplicant asking for romantic advice. I wanted to answer him in person, but it seems he was too much of a coward for that.” Time’s face remained as impassive as ever, but Hyrule heard scorn in Time’s voice. 

Courage was something that all the gods valued, and Time was no exception. All of the gods were warriors of some kind, and none of them took kindly to cowardice, so it didn't surprise them that Time was displeased that the man had run. ”But I think I might stay for a while longer and hear more supplications from those who are brave enough to face me.” 

Not wanting to offend, but also slightly amused by the whole situation, Hyrule said. “Maybe you could take on a less frightening form? Other people aren't as used to seeing gods as I am. He was just scared of that, I think.” 

There was a long pause as Time seemed to consider this. While he did, Hyrule turned to gather their basket off the floor. The basket and meat pie had stayed where they had dropped them, but the apples had rolled away. Hyrule found one of them easily, but the other was nowhere to be seen. 

Most likely it had rolled into a corner or under an offering table. Hyrule could find it later, after the worshippers had left the temple and this whole situation had died down.

But when they turned back to Time, they were pleasantly surprised. Hyrule hadn’t thought that Time had moved when they’d turned their back on him, but they found that the god was standing closer than he had been, and holding out the apple Hyrule had lost. 

He had also changed his appearance. Time looked more like he usually did, now. He still wore the armor, but it was no longer unearthly silver, but a normal iron. His hair was no longer white, but a bright blonde, and he stood at a more reasonable height. If Hyrule had seen him out in the city, they would have assumed that he was a knight, and wouldn’t have looked twice at him.

At least, if it hadn’t been for the mask the man now wore. It was white and pearlescent, with a swirling symbol Hyrule didn't recognize carved into it. It also had no eye holes, but Hyrule got the unnerving feeling Time was still staring at them.

With a smile, Hyrule took the second apple from Time’s outstretched hand and tucked it into their basket. “That’s better,” They agreed to Time’s unspoken question. “Much less intimidating, I think.” Then they hesitated. “But, if you still wanted to speak with that young man, I’m afraid that he’s, um, already gone.”

Time snorted at that. “No need to be delicate about it. I know he ran away like a child.“ 

Hyrule nodded, not bothering to defend the young man. He had run away, after all. 

They would have to warn those who were gathered outside that the god would still be there if they entered his shrine, and then they would have to prepare for a flood of people coming to see the god in person. Hyrule would probably seclude themself in their room. No need for them to get caught up in that mess.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Hyrule sighed. “Here’s hoping I won't have to fight through a hoard of people all asking questions the second I step out of this room.” It was a fruitless hope, they already knew. News of the god’s presence would have already spread, drawing even more people to crowd around the door.

Time said nothing, but patted them on the shoulder consolingly before they headed towards the door, leaving the god where he stood. 

~~~

The Pantheon:

Sky: God of the sky, divinity, sleep, and children (The first god, Mother of the gods)

Four: (They/Them) God of the four elemental spirits, and the forge. (They created the world out of the endless cloudy void Sky had been living in. The void is now the realm of the gods, the world is now the realm of the mortals)

Time: God of time, the seasons, the harvest/farming (He began the turning of the seasons)

Twilight: God of the night/day, animals, and the sun/moon/stars (He created the stars, planets, moon, and sun, and helped populate the world with animals)

Legend: God of myths, adventure, and music (He worked together with Twilight to create mortals. He also helped create the constellations)

Wind: God of the ocean and the dead (He helped deal with the overpopulation of mortals. Psychopomp. Started out as a mortal)

Warriors: (Xe/Xem/Xyr) God of war, strategy, and battle, (Also a psychopomp, but only to the effect that xe delivers souls of those who die in battle to Wind. “Battle” is very widely defined. Lots of things can be battles Ie: childbirth, battle with sickness)

Wild: God of the hearth, hunting, and the wilds (He moderates how much Hyians encroach on nature. Started out as a mortal)

[clintbartonruinedmylife]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 14

Alternative prompt: "Aftermath of failure"

“Clint,” Sam said and put his arm on his shoulder. But Clint didn’t listen to him, he just continued moving, pressing the chest of the young boy in front of him while Nat pressed air into his lungs every few moments. She shared a glance with Sam but kept quiet. 

“Clint, come on,” Sam said again and this time Clint shrugged off his hand. 

“It’s twenty minutes now,” Nat eventually said.

“No, I know I can get him back,” Clint pressed through his teeth but didn’t stop pressing the boy’s chest. 

“Clint,” Sam said, this time more insistently. “Stop now!” 

“I can’t,” he hissed. “I can…” 

“Clint, he’s dead,” Sam said.  

“It’s… it’s my fault,” Clint said. “I… I should’ve seen…” 

Sam put his hand on Clint’s shoulder again. 

“You couldn’t have seen it,” he said. “You’re not Superman, you don't have x-ray vision.” 

Clint breathed hard when he sat back and Nat stopped, too. 

“I’ll tell the parents,” he said and rose. 

“I can…” Sam said but Clint shook his head. 

“No,” he said. “This is my responsibility.” 

Clint removed the bloody gloves, threw them onto the ground and took a cloth to wipe his hands clean. He went to the door, opened it and found the mother, sitting on a chair, her husband standing behind her, holding her. Both had tears in their eyes and were worried. 

“Mrs. and Mr. Kleinen,” he said. The woman pressed a hand over her mouth and started sobbing. 

“No,” the man whispered. “No, please, God, no.” 

“We… we tried our best, but…” he stopped when he saw the woman wrapping her arms around her husband and starting to cry uncontrollably. 

“I’m sorry,” he said but both, Mrs. and Mr. Kleinen, didn’t hear him anymore.   

He went back to Natasha and Sam and they packed up their stuff. They left the house and drove back to the hospital, Clint sitting in the back. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Nat said and Clint looked up. 

“Yes, it was,” he said. “It was me who didn’t notice the bleeding. It was… the kid was seven years old and now… now he’s dead. Don’t tell me it wasn’t my fault because we all know it was.” 

He leaned his head back and tears started to run over his face.

[alasylunatic]

Bean go

BOOM

[across-violet-skies]

Day 20: emotional angst | Whumpees– Wind & Warriors | Addt'l– the Chain (briefly)

Some wounds, you don't come back from.

TWs– blood & injury, acceptance of death, major character death/death of a child

Whump Rating– 10/10

preview under the cut!!

Time seemed to move in slow motion as the spear pierced through Wind’s chest, pinning him to the tree behind him.

In one fell swoop, Warriors decapitated the Lizalfos who threw the spear. Thick black blood splattered in an arc across his face.

He screamed.

“Wind!” His voice was desperate, panic edging along his tone and engulfing it in a suffocating wrap. “Wind!”

The sailor blinked, bringing a shaky hand up to his chest. Trembling, too-small hands wrapped around the shaft of the spear, smearing bloody handprints into the wood.

Warriors slid on his knees, for once in his life ignorant of the dirt and mud it caked into his trousers. Worried, frantic hands hovered uselessly over the spear.

He was too late.

Wind was still alive for now, but only just so, and with an injury of this caliber… well, Warriors was familiar with fatal wounds. He– and Wind as well– knew that this was the end.

-> read the rest on ao3!!

[sebastian-queen]

Here's chapter 8 for all of you, but proceed at your own risk! Please read the tags! It's a heavy chapter!

[manwalksintobar]

Portrait of My Father and His Grandson // Richard Jones

Because I love my father, I can see him turning away from the river and the divers and the policemen and the red lights; I can see him walking back to the house, follow him down the long hallway to the child's room; I can see him bending over the empty bed and lifting the heavy white spread and carrying it back to the river's edge to wrap around his grandson. But even though I love them both, I cannot see why this should happen, or tell you what the boy saw under the water, or how my father felt standing by the river when the divers came up, or where he found the strength to survive that night, hugging the wet body, wrapping it up against the cold, carrying it though the darkness, home.

[whumpybobbert]

The Flash 1x7

Farooq Gibran: Electrocuted, chronic illness

Joe West: Hostage situation, perceived loss of a child (brief, but the acting was OOF! 10 out of 10!)

Iris West: Hostage situation

Eddie Thawne: Hostage situation, gunshot wound, bleeding out, tourniquet, high on pain meds

Barry Allen: Electrocuted

[psychologeek]

Tw: death of a child, health conditions.

This isn't a happy story, but I don't think it's a sad story either.

(this is a story about hope, and love, and caring)

Life Worth Living

When my friend was sixteen, her daughter died.

(I think about her, sometimes)

My friend was born with health issues, and spent a lot of time at the hospital as a kid. She always stayed very short, and her heart was too big for her body. I met her when we were both 20 years old, and she worked as a pre-k teacher.

At her teens, she told me, she volunteered at the hospital she was treated at. She spent her time with the babies, especially those in NICU, or babies that were left behind in the hospital by their families due to medical conditions.

When my friend was sixteen, one of those babies was a tiny baby girl with a heart deficit.

(Things didn't look great for her. The doctors said she won't make it to her first birthday.)

And my friend?

She loved that little one with all of her heart. She went there everyday after school, spent weekends, holding the little one in her arms, playing with her, singing for her, just-

there.

It's hard to find a placement for kids with disabilities. Even (especially) if they are babies.

Who would like to be attached, and care for a kid that's going to die?

(My friend did)

And she loved that baby girl, with all of her heart. She wanted to give that little one a home.

And she was stubborn, and unstoppable, and willing to go through some bureaucracy shit.

And she did it.

She made it.

(She was allowed to adopt the baby.)

So she brought her new daughter home. She put her in her cradle by the window, where her daughter could feel the sun. She sang for her in a room that wasn't filled with beeping noises or the scent of antiseptics. In the night, she put the kid to sleep and turn off the light. So different from the hospital.

My friend brought her new daughter home -

and three weeks later, she died.

Her daughter died in a room with an open window, where she could feel the sun and hear the birds singing.

Her daughter died in her own cradle, with her own clothes, in a room filled with the scent of cooking coming from the kitchen.

Her daughter died at home.

Her daughter died before her first birthday-

(As all medic experts expected her to.)

Her daughter died loved, and cared, and home.

(Sometimes I envy her)

[misscrazyfangirl321]

Dom/Adelle: not a sentence but more of a prompt, if you'd like: Dom comforting Adelle?

(Have some Patricia!Adelle.)

“Do you have children, Mr. Dominic?” She asks quietly one night, her gaze locked on the grand window in her office, taking in the scene below. It’s late, and most of their crew has long been asleep, but it’s one of those nights where something’s weighing on her, where she’s carrying a burden a little too heavy, and she needs to set it down. He’s left her before on nights like this, only to find her sitting at the very same place the next morning, exhaustion in her eyes. 

He stays, now. Always. 

(It’s a security risk, he reasons, to have the head of house so sleep-deprived. As head of security, it’s his job to mitigate such risks. And when he stays a little later, late enough that she lets half-thoughts slip out, little releases of the pressure constantly building up in her mind, she does eventually go home. So it’s professional; nothing more.)

(He lies every day, but his lies to himself stopped being convincing a long time ago.) 

This question, though, is odd, and he turns it around a few times in his head before replying. “No, ma’am.” Which she knows, of course; she’s read his file (or at least the file the NSA put together for him). So why bring it up? “... Do you?” Though of course he knows this answer-no-as well as she knows his. 

To his surprise, she doesn’t reply directly. “Do you ever regret it? Ever wish you’d…” She trails off, waving her hands, as if she doesn’t quite know how to finish her thought. Few people get to see her half-formed thoughts, but sometimes (rarely) she lets him see. Trusts him to piece it together for her.

“Had two point five kids and a picket fence?” He shrugs, hands in his pockets. She’s still not looking his way. “Wouldn’t really work with all of this, would it?”

She laughs softly, sadly. “No, I suppose not.” 

He won’t tell her about the dream he has sometimes, the one with smiling children with dark curls and dark eyes; he’s afraid she wouldn’t want to hear it. He’s afraid she would. 

They stay like that for several long minutes, the silence stretching out between them. She leans against her window, forehead resting against the glass, and he sits on her couch, waiting her out. He’s gotten quite good at that lately. While he waits, he ponders. Is she having regrets? Wishing she’d taken the time for a family? It doesn’t seem like her, but then, none of this does. 

Her office is pleasantly warm, and her couch is the most comfortable thing he’s ever sat on. And though he hasn’t checked the time in awhile, he knows it’s late. So it isn’t surprising when sleep starts to tug him under, when his eyes start to fall shut.

“I had a daughter once,” she says abruptly, and now he’s wide-awake. He looks at her, instinctively looking for a joke though there’s no humor in her voice. “A very long time ago. Today would be her birthday.”

It doesn’t make sense; the NSA has files over Adelle DeWitt’s whole life. Every phone call, every job, every purchase, every doctor appointment. There’s no earthly way this woman has a child. And yet, the trace of pain in her words pleads with him to believe her, to trust her. 

If this is true, there’s a problem. If she kept this hidden, who knows what other secrets she’s managed to hide? 

"What happened?”

“She died.” There’s no inflection to the statement, no crack in her voice, but he knows better than to take that as apathy. He knows her to his bones, and the grief is no less tangible for her attempt to hide it. 

Part of him wants to pry more, to coax her into sharing as many details as possible. It’ll be easier to track down more information that way. Another part of him-far more dangerous, far more terrifying-wants to gather her up in his arms and hold her as tightly as he can, to press his forehead to her hair and tell her that he has her. 

“I’m sure you could find her easily enough if you tried,” she continues. “But I’m asking you, as a favor, not to try.” 

It would be foolish of him to promise that. He has a job to do, and no matter how easy it is to forget, he doesn’t work for her. Not really. She may sign his paychecks, but someone else signs bigger ones, and his first contract is with those who seek to monitor her. She’d hate him if she knew; he’s sure one day she will. But she is hurting, and the words slip out without his permission. “I won’t.” 

“Thank you.” 

He will not try to find this daughter. At least not unless it becomes relevant, but if she’s dead-long dead, apparently-he cannot imagine it will be. But neither will he hold her. Most likely, she wouldn’t let him, even if he tried; she’d stare him down and send him away with a prim, professional, British brush-off. But he thinks it might be worse if she didn’t; if she let him comfort her, if she lowered her walls so completely around him, he’d feel like the worst sort of monster. She’ll one day learn the truth about him, and he won’t have her thinking he took advantage of moments like this to more thoroughly gain her trust. 

So he rises to his feet, crossing over to her bar, and pours them each a small glass. Then he comes to her, brushing her elbow with his knuckle in a silent invitation to look back. She takes a long, steadying breath before she does, then takes a glass from him with a ghost of a smile at her lips.

“What was her name?” He asks, and he knows she might not tell him-might think he’s prying for information to research after all-but she doesn’t even hesitate.

“Helen.” In just two syllables, he knows she hasn’t said the name in a very long time.

“To Helen,” he says softly, lifting his glass, and her eyes go too bright. He wills her not to cry-because if she does, he’ll break, he’ll reach for her, never mind every reason it’s a bad idea-holding her gaze.

At last, she nods, lifting her glass in turn. “To Helen.” Not one tear slips down her cheek.

They drink, and then they fall silent once more. She turns back to her beautiful city view, and he hesitates only a moment before taking his place by her side, keeping watch over the city with her. Maybe neither of them will go home tonight; they might stay just like this until the sun creeps up over the horizon, until Topher bounds in chattering about some new theory and Laurence grits his teeth and puts up with it because the kid is one of the few people who can make Adelle smile. 

(They’ll both be exhausted tomorrow; it’ll be an awful security risk. Laurence cannot bring himself to care.)

[marzipanandminutiae]

As someone who works with social history for a living, I feel like I’m the aggressive opposite of an anti-vaxxer

I fucking LOVE vaccines, friends. Give me the science stab. I’m so ready. it’s a beautiful day to not die of a Bajillion and one diseases that carried off like half the population before they had even reached age 10, and a significant portion before they made it to old age, 150 years ago

I go to the old cemetery. I see the vast numbers of infant and child and young adult graves. And then I go to my doctor and get injected with Potion of Fuck That Noise. This is beautiful and miraculous and I do not remotely understand how some people can reject it – not just for themselves, but for their children

[art-as-an-idea]

In The Atlantic, David Frum remembered the death of Miranda, his daughter, in her early 30s: “The thought of my own death has never been a distressing subject. We live, we love, we yield the stage to our children. I hoped that when the time arrived, I would have the chance for farewells. If that wish were granted, I could with total content ride the train to my final destination. It never occurred to me that one of my children might board the train first, pulling away as her parents wept on the platform.”