#whoops!! more angst!!

[starheavenly]

Poor Drift, the poor guy, is going through so much angst

Yeah... Poor guy....

[egophiliac]

What do you like about the Diasomnia boys if I may ask?

I always love hearing about the different reasons people enjoy characters.

I mean, c'mon. he has split custody over Sebek okay

also, Lilia in particular has maybe the best timeskip character development of all time

[justsigma-bsd]

He comes back by the evening, quietly entering Sigma's room.

- @my-taintedsorrow

*He's not in his room, but a note is*

[rip-headphones-users]

You could just leave this here, happy and satisfied as is…

…But thats not how things get to end, right?

Maybe one day they can be happy together. But not like this. Not when Infected can barely remember who he’s with, and not when Lampert is so scared of contracting the parasite himself.

One of these days I’ll do a full summary of how I interpret their dynamic. Both as friends and as a ship. I see them as having a queer-platonic relationship for the most part though.

[pinkie-quinns]

rocker eddie/actor steve | exes to ? | fame au interlude

p1 p2 p3 p4 p5 p6

After the Globes both Steve and Eddie's teams decided radio silence was the best. Let people assume what they’re gonna assume. Hope that that assumption starts with D and ends with rugs.

And most people do assume that. It circulates as a listicle oddity for a week then disappears. Written off as some weird celebrity quirk. Hollywood whispers, but they always do.

But then some people, some people start to speculate.

They listen to Penitence, really listen to Penitence.

Through all its torn up apologies, its sorrow & regrets, they hear about someone getting left behind, turned against for the crime of their success & the artist’s failure. Someone the artist would do anything to get back.

And they start to dig through old interviews of Steve’s. The really early ones. Digital archives of defunct genre mags. Where he talks about falling into acting by chance, talks about moving out to LA with a partner and working odd jobs.

It doesn’t line up with the stuff Eddie had touted on late-night. Steve hadn’t moved to LA to be an actor. All his early interviews say so. Lie after lie piles up so they swirl and they speculate and they make their theories.

But it’s nothing to worry about. Their teams both reassure them. Not really. It stays in its corner of the internet. Stays that way for months. Well into the summer. Quiets down a little, even. Well, it does until–

The picture itself is incriminating.

Steve Harrington, leaving Eddie Munson’s NYC brownstone, stretching out for a morning jog. Hickeys littering his neck, a bite-mark visible on his collar bone.

But he's not embarrassed, no. For some reason, he’s grinning like an asshole.

[nartothelar]

But for the vampire au, have you considered Emmet getting Severely Hurt™️ and Ingo turning him to keep his brother alive?

Or do they have an agreement to just let things happen?

“No.” Emmet responds simply, decisively.

The answer is expected and yet, the disappointment Ingo feels is an unwelcome heaviness, his constant frown turning genuine without it meaning to.

Ingo had asked the very same question thrice times now.

Once was when they were kids. It was casual inquiry that came with little prompting; he had asked out of curiosity more than anything. Ingo had asked Emmet after they had defeated a trio of challengers off hand. Emmet had laughed, light and airy, when he answered. They had gotten ice cream using their winnings after.

The second time had been following a much more harrowing experience. A safety check forgotten, a simple mistake by a depot agent newly hired, had resulted in a derailed train. Fortunately only a few were injured. Unfortunately, one of those few was Emmet.

Ingo had asked him with bags under his eyes, something quite silly since Ingo didn’t even need to sleep. (Was that makeup? Emmet had joked with an exhausted smile.)

Emmet, laying in that hospital bed, IV's in his arm and a cask around his left leg, had responded much the same, a chuckle rather than a laugh. Perhaps his headache had come back to manage much more than that. Ingo didn’t attempt to change his mind and offered him the chicken noodle soup Elesa had brought for him.

And the third time was right now: Ingo sitting across from Emmet in the dining room of their shared apartment. It was morning and even though the windows curtains were drawn, the room was illuminated with a soft glow. In front of his brother was a plate of eggs and toast, him nursing a cup of black coffee. In front of Ingo was just a cup of tea, untouched and cooling.

“But why don’t you want to be a vampire?”

“But why don’t you want to be a vampire?”

The way he asks shows his cards far to easily. Whoever had said Subway Boss Ingo was hard to read must have not tried at all.

His brother looks at him, assessing him, and then looks away.

Emmet is silent for a minute, simply gazing at the cup in front of him. His food was getting cold.

Most would think Emmet was being hesitant when answering, that this was a sign he didn’t want to answer at all. But Ingo knows him well. He knows he wants to go over what he will day and that he voices his thoughts properly.

Ingo is patient and waits. Finally, Emmet answers.

“I like the sun.” His brother says, looking at him. The color of his eyes haven’t dulled all these years. “It feels warm on my skin. It feels good.”

“I love eating. The taste, the action. Yup!" Emmet picks at his plate with a hum. "I want to eat what I like, when I like."

“I like my independence." Ingo's tea leaves an ashy taste as he sips it - a floral chamomile bag floats at the bottom of it. "I do not want to be dependent on others. I do not want to be dependent on things out of my control."

"I know that I will have to sometimes." Emmet really looks at him now. "And that is ok. But I still feel the same way.”

Ingo squeezes his mug, before he relaxes his grip. Emmet notices.

Emmet lays his palm on his chest, closing it into a fist near the middle.

“I like being human.” It sounds final, the words like a gavel to wood, the way it echoes in his mind. “I do not want to be a vampire.”

Ingo wants to argue. To convince him that the pros outweigh the insignificant cons, but he does not. No. Usually Ingo is more eloquent with his words, but the fear that rises up in his throat makes his usually well thought out words more brisk, more succinct, more honest as he says the obvious.

“But you are aging.” Ingo says. You are dying, Ingo tries, fails, and a refrains to add.

Ingo hands are smooth, his face without a wrinkle. He looks as the same as he as when he first became a subway boss. He has since he was sent to Hisui. Forever youthful. And Emmet.

Emmet's hands are calloused, wrinkled from years of maintenance at gear station. His hair is thinning and his temples were turning white. His stride not as brisk as it was years ago.

“I am.” Emmet replies. “And I will continue to age.”

Ingo knows Emmet. He is stubborn, just like himself. That is how he is. He knows he will not change his mind. And that makes him clench his jaw, look down at his cup with furrowed brow.

“Ingo.”

Ingo snaps his head up, fear turning to anger that makes him feel sick. He should not be angry, but he is.

“Then you plan to reach your final stop?” Emmet’s smile dims. Ingo continues anyway. “Leave this station?” Without me? Ingo clamps down before he utters the accusation.

“You....you will have me wait here for you to die? And do nothing?!”

And there it is. Ingo barring his greatest fear since he got turned. The thing that has plaguing his mind since he stood at the grave of his old clan leader in Hisui, at the cemetery where his other wardens were laid to rest. What he had realized as he saw time passes by, years of constant goodbyes and tearful farewells.

It was that, no matter how grand his ideals, the simple truth of the matter was that he was utterly powerless to the passage of time.

Ingo doesn't realize that he has stood up until he is already towering over Emmet's seated form. His fangs barred and he suspects his eyes are slits.

And despite that, Emmet looks calm. He looks...sad.

“I didn’t ask for this.” Ingo says softly, deflated as the anger leaves his body. To live on as those around him pass. To see enjoy his life without the people he cares most around him.

Ingo feels arms wrap around him and he wraps trembling arms around Emmet too, his head laying on his shoulder. They stay like that for a moment, simply holding each other, not letting go.

"I'm sorry I never gave you the choice." Emmet finally says. Ingo's hands grip at Emmet's shirt. "We were young. You were dying. And I was desperate. I did not want to lose you..."

Emmet pulls back after that, not all the way, but enough to look into Ingo's face. His fangs have retracted, his eyes normal again. "But those details do not matter now, do they?" Emmet sighs out, that sad smile still there.

"They matter. Of course they matter." Ingo protests, but he doesn't elaborate pass that.

Emmet looks at the floor, thinking about his words and looks at Ingo again before saying, "Everything reaches its final terminal."

"Not me." Ingo says. It comes out bitter.

"Everything does." Emmet repeats, shaking his head. He squeezes Ingo's forearm before he lets go. "I did not give you a choice. but you can choose for yourself now."

His brother’s crows feet, a result from decades worth of smiles, crinkle at the edges as he looks at him. "Just as I choose for myself."

Ingo dwells on those words, on what his brother is offering. A choice and a decision to make. Emmet looks at him and Ingo understands.

With a sigh (a concession, a compromise), Ingo nods and accepts Emmet's answer.

That heaviness Ingo feels is not fully gone from his mind, but it has lightened, the tension of the room dispersing like the morning fog.

Emmet notices, smiles, and sits back down to finish his breakfast. Ingo follows. And then the silence is filled anew with his brother's latest retelling of yet another dealing he had with a rude passenger yesterday.

Ingo listens and they both laugh and talk and all is right and as it should be that morning, in their shared moment of time.

Him and his brother were a two car train, always have been, no matter their differences. And no matter what, he was going to be there with him until his brother's final destination.

And then after that, once that engine has long gone cold, Ingo would decide when his last stop was too.

[dysfunctional-doodle]

So we've got the Leos thinking 03!Leo is really cool, the Raphs having mutual respect for 03!Raph because they understand each other, and the Donnies having respect (and low key fear) for 03!Don and his peaceful ways.

Last but not least, the Mikeys. Gotta ask how they feel about 03!Mikey. Do they aspire to be like him, hoping to one day be able to bring as much chaos as he does?

Yes. Hail Father Micheal, Humble Servant of Mother Klunk

(Without the context of my text/chat fic this makes no sense and I am not going to try and explain lol)

I actually do think he’s kind of adopted all the other Michelangelos (specifically the younger ones) to try and stop them from getting caught up in the whole “funny guy” face that he has had to his whole life - intentionally or not, his brothers rely on him to be happy and carefree, and he wants to be the support he never got to the other Mikeys so they can express their own feelings and vent at him. He also wants to wrap them all up in bubble wrap and stop them from all the trauma sprinting towards them, but he understands he can’t and instead solidifies himself as the supporting pillar they need.

(Also they absolutely follow him around like ducks as he teaches them all the ways of pranking and mischief. He takes them under his wing to all become pranking gods.)

[grab-my-digits-dude]

For @may-blade day 2: As a bit beast Oh hell yeah I love bit beast merge aus! How about the more use of Dragoon the more corrupt Tyson gets YEAH ! ! !

[undercityrezident]

So, did anyone else notice during Memory 4 that the Dueling Peaks is a complete and single mountain?

So that means, at some point between when Zelda arrived and the present day, according to Shay at the Lakeside Stable (in Breath of the Wild), "...legends say that a dragon god split the mountain in half to forge a way through, and that's how how it went from one to two."

It's worth mentioning that he talked about this while also mentioning "the presence of the shadow of a large creature on the surface of Lake Floria," which largely connects this dialogue to Farosh, the dragon often seen diving into the waterfalls near the peak of Mount Floria (in Breath of the Wild). The fact all this information comes from the same source may be the game's way of telling us that Farosh was responsible for the state of the Dueling Peaks.

However, I have a hypothesis to offer (which contains intensive TotK story spoilers, hence the readmore):

The way the camera pans in the memory to show the Dueling Peaks (or peak, rather, in this era), feels somewhat purposeful to me. And knowing that Zelda becomes a dragon in order to help restore the Master Sword over the aeons, I can't help but wonder if she might've been the reason why it happens.

Not that I blame her of course. She's a newly minted dragon, likely bursting with emotion and pain she doesn't understand or know how to cope with as she's just lost her sense of self. She could've gone mad for a time, flying erratically and ploughing through a mountain in her time of grief before settling into her new draconic existence.

Does this disprove that Farosh, or any of the other three dragons could've been responsible?

No, it doesn't. But I propose the idea that the other three dragons have existed much longer than her. By the nature of their names, they're connected to the three goddesses, Nayru, Farore, and Din, and have likely been around since the world's origin (or very close to it). Further, the Zonai have many carvings and depictions of dragons, meaning that dragons existed during and likely prior to this era, given their longevity.

Why is this important? We can look to how the three main dragons behave: they have regular patterns of flight, likely formed out of habit or preference, and do not go out of their way to harm people or impact the landscape in any significant way. For the most part, they're high in the sky where little can reach them, save for a hero with a paraglider.

Grant you, their paths have changed since TotK debuted, but the landscape itself has changed, as has the state of the world in general. The depths are now readily accessible, and perhaps there's an obligation on their part to survey it or maintain order wherever they can venture.

But my main point is that the dragons, given time, tend to settle and keep to their own habits and paths. If the three dragons already existed long before Zelda transformed, it's unlikely one of the other three dragons would find reason to deviate from their normal behaviour and plough through a mountain to split it in two.

But the new Light Dragon hasn't settled yet. She's wracked with emotion, grief, and new power she doesn't know how to control. She could almost be considered a newborn in that sense, and what might a newborn with nearly god-like powers do?

Split a mountain in half because it was in her way...

Also, keep in mind the former Temple of Time where Zelda transformed is not all too distant from that once unified Dueling Peak. As well, Zelda's own draconic trailblazing hasn't been consistent either in the present. At the beginning of TotK, she's seen flying in circles near the Great Sky Island before she boldly plunges through the cloud layer to open up Hyrule to Link once he's finished his trials there. As far as dragons go, Zelda doesn't have the same temperament as the other three.

It's true that there could be another dragon, or being that approximates one, that is responsible for the splitting of the Dueling Peaks. Maybe it was a more nefarious dragon sharing heritage with the likes of Volvagia, Argorok, or some progenitor of the Gleeoks.

Still, I think that it would be interesting to believe that the once gentle Zelda's sacrifice may have had a bigger hand in shaping the future of Hyrule than only her dutiful task of revitalizing the Master Sword. It would further contrast the change between the woman she was and the dragon she became, and emphasize the tragic nature of what she had to do in order for us to finally defeat Ganondorf.

[sagau-my-beloved]

Death At The Hands Of A God

Warnings: general sagau, imposter au, light descriptions of violence/gore, you die/are killed (by Venti), angst

-

It seemed as if the rain was particularly heavy, almost unusually so as it fell in sheets, occasionally catching the light of the moon, making it look no different than strands of silver.

That should have been a sign, the rain, the fog, the agitation of the weather. Mondstadt hadn't faced a storm this bad since before their current Archon, even the winds of Dvalin paled in comparison.

Venti was so ignorant not to pick up on the clues laid out before him by his own nation as he trudged through heavy rain, his bow at the ready and a sinking feeling in his chest.

He would never say he disliked the rain, despite what unpleasant memories linger in the back of his mind from those times. But everything carried a harsher weight when was faced with his current task, one assigned to him by no other than his creator.

Venti stopped to rest a moment, leaning against a tree for partial coverage, though it did little to shield his already soaked clothes. He felt something heavy and unpleasant in his chest as he reflected on the situation, an unshakable sense of wrongness, one that clouded his mind and dulled his senses. You were what he was after, you who posed a threat to the divine order simply because of your face.

He thought back on his creators’ honeyed words, a sickeningly sweet tone that he had never heard them use before, not that they very commonly addressed him at all, which made this particular summons out of place, a mixture of excitement and worry bubbling in his chest as he walked through their temple. To kill someone impersonating them, that is what they ordered him, hinting at the possible consequences his nation may face if he didn't comply with the utmost enthusiasm, the threat of which rang particularly loud when faced with what they had done to other nations in fits of anger.

He knew deep within him that this wasn't remotely justified, that he might as well be punished alongside you if the crime was simply stealing a face. If only you chose to look like another human, or even an Archon, he would have taken your mimicry of him as a complementary. But alas. Those feelings were pushed down and covered by the vow he made to his nation, one born of nothing but love and a promise for a brighter future.

Venti had considered alternatives, confronting you with your motive, begging you to make yourself scarce, making his own judgement on your reasons and framing his response accordingly, but those were all fleeting thoughts, quickly pushed away as soon as they arose. He couldn't get attached, he couldn't afford to think of you as human, and he certainly couldn't afford it getting back to his creator that he failed them.

He had heard about your existence from other sources, apparently being so bold as to walk directly into Mondstadt. You weren't met with pitchforks and torches, his people were more civilized than that, but the hostility was as sharp as a knife. You had left of your own accord after having no luck obtaining food or a place to stay, he had only heard after the fact from gossipers drinking late into the night, the faces of which were forced into his mind as he once again thought of his creators’ threat.

Venti was pulled from his thoughts due to a subtle noise, one almost unnoticeable through the heavy onset of rain, but it was there. A branch and a pile of leaves, something big enough to break them, and no one in their right mind would be out in this weather, except...

He swallowed what little apprehension he’d not already buried, reverting his mindset to something it had been five hundred years ago with the quick draw of his bow. The Archon saw you in the distance, just as soaked as he was, clothes tattered and foreign, scared. A quick death was the least you deserved, one free from suffering, and maybe your next life would be more forgiving.

He aimed for your head, a clear shot even now, but it seemed the moonlight that glinting off his bow caught your attention as you quickly turned your body to face him in a defensive stance, eyes wide, fearful, as if you could see what was about to come to fruition.

Your mouth moved, only fragments of the noise it produced were carried to him, broken syllables and muffled notes the very wind urged him to listen to.

You had said his name.

Venti faltered before the arrow released, for the first time in centuries, its' path no longer as steady or sure as it had been.

It hit your throat.

Venti's legs were moving before he consciously realized, forcing his body to where you fell, as if collapsing in on yourself, until he could finally see you clearly, drenched in rain and golden liquid, mixing together indiscriminately as they soak into the ground below.

There was a feeling of shock, which developed in his throat first, spreading evenly throughout the rest of his body, as if it were in his bloodstream. He looked at your terrified expression, a pained and now lifeless one, holding only fragments of the fear you felt.

What had he done.

Venti felt himself fall to his knees, hands immediately going to where his arrow lay firmly lodged, feeling for a pulse in an act he knew to be worthless.

"No. No, n-no— no. Please!" His voice cracked as his mind caught up with what his eyes were forcing him to behold.

You were the divine creator, Teyvat's one true God, and he had—

No. He couldn't even think it, the word that was on the tip of his mind carried nothing but pain, anguish and insufferable heartache, the likes of which he hadn't felt, well since...

Without thinking, Venti wrapped his arms around you, laid his head on your stomach, forced his eyes closed, and prayed. For your return, for forgiveness, and if not for any of that, then simply for a form of retribution.

He hadn't realized he'd started crying, tears and rain alike falling from his face onto your form, pooling at his eyes until the world around him became harder and harder to see.

The position you both rested in was not unlike that day long ago, forever etched in his memory and resurfaced through reflections.

Was this simple his fate? To find himself holding in his arms the corpse of someone he loved so dearly, over and over again. Was it written in his very being that all good things would be torn violently from him with little care to how it left him shattered, scrambling for the pieces of what little piece of mind he had left.

There was no coming back from this, no form of atonement. He could feel the shackles encasing his wrists, invisibly tying him to this moment, to where you had stood alive moments prior. His days of living freely died with you, forever encased in the space between where your souls had briefly met, and it was no more than he deserved.

It was only a moment later that your body was gone, dissolved into the stardust it was born from, slipping through his arms and carried by the wind that no longer obeyed him. That didn't stop him from reaching desperately, gasping and clawing at the air for what remained, heart in his throat as he begged for mercy, for anything but you depriving him of your vessel even after death.

You couldn't really be gone, not fully, you who so powerfully morphed this world from willpower alone, who disappeared for an infinite stretch of time only to descend again. Even if your vessel may have been no stronger than human, your soul was as old and powerful as existence itself, it would linger on in whatever form it had existed before, watching, waiting.

He would be ready for when you decided to give this world a second chance, he would wait an eternity and more to see your face again and repent a thousand times over, bear any hardships in the time between only to fall to his knees in complete acceptance at whatever you deem an acceptable punishment when faced with your light again.

But first...

It seemed as if there was a loose end to tie up, a deceiver bearing the ultimate sin, one much more deserving of his arrow, and one that would suffer a fate worse than death in your name.

Venti roughly brushed the tears from his face, eyes darkening as he shakily pulled himself from his knees, feeling as if his body couldn't decide between flying or collapsing.

His ‘creator’ would soon face all the fear and pain that was forced upon you, the wrath of a god who had lost everything for the second time, a goal he planned to pursue till his dying breath.

[dreameatingparasite]

relationship ended with sixer gotta find someone new i guess

[whatwooshkai]

2!

Blades isn't sure if First Aid is still alive. After Groove died, the bond became chaotic and muddled- he's not sure who's thoughts and dreams and nightmares he gets anymore, if they're in real time or just echoes. He's learned to tune them out, when he once believed it unthinkable.

But in moments like this, Blades is sure he's alive.

Because it's First Aid's voice screaming in his processor as he tries to patch a torn fuel line in Heatwave's torso. Because of course it's Heatwave. Again.

"Would it kill you to develop some self-preservation skills?" Blades snarls when Heatwave flinches, nearly reversing all his hard work. "I swear to Primus, it's once a week! How are you not dead?"

"We wouldn't live to be millions of years old if were weren't at least a little resilient," Boulder points out from where they're doing damage control, and Blades has never before wished such violence on the bot.

Sparking wires, Blades! Focus on the issue at hand! First Aid's voice centers him, and Blades takes a deep vent and wiggles his rotors. Boulder's more useful conscious right now, anyways. Keep those out of the way of the fuel line- mixing those is BAD BAD BAD.

No shit, Sherlock, Blades thinks ruefully, but his rotors wiggle again, a little pleased he's had a reason to use that phrase.

"Aren't you glad you get the practice?" Heatwave offers in strained voice, not bothering to look up at Blades. "You've gotten so much better lately."

"I'd rather practice new techniques before I try them out on you," Blades snaps back, trying not to preen at the praise. Heatwave's trying to distract him from being mad, and Blades is not going to let him get away with it.

You are getting better, First Aid's voice offers, and Blades relaxes into the familiar tone. Real or not, it's nice.

He turns his attention back to the sparking wires and gets lost in his work.

[crybaby-bkg]

sadly and soggily thinking about dating gojo and being so deep in the relationship, that you think you two were made for each other. two peas in a pod, two halves of a whole, two severed souls connecting once more. so perfect for each other that you don’t even think about mentioning marriage and kids, convinced that you guys are already on the same page.

all until it comes up in conversation and things aren’t as perfect as you thought they were. marriage—yes, absolutely, gojo is ecstatic about tying the knot, giving you the wedding of your dreams, calling you his for the rest of you guys’ lives.

but….kids? he’s thought about it and the answer has always been a clear no in his mind. he couldn’t even dream of bringing another him into the universe, fears that it might throw off the balance of the world. that he can’t exist if his child does, but why exist at all if his child’s lesser abilities will only result in them being shunned? of being told how much of a disappointment they are? of being isolated?

and sadly, it’s a breaking point for you. you just wanted one, at least, with your forever partner. and if he can’t give it to you, then he must not be the one for you. you didn’t wanna trap gojo or coerce or manipulate him into giving you the baby you always so selfishly desired, so you leave him.

and how broken does it make him. makes him resent a baby never even conceived or planted, makes him hate what used to be and would have never been.

but…it also makes him think. if his fears would come true, if his hesitance is justified. would he be able to go long lengths to protect his baby? to protect you? would that target his whole family having a weak spot? and is it…is it even worth it at all?

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Febuwhump Day 9 - Alternate Prompt, "I love you"

More emotional pain fun with the predecessors of Hyrule Warriors! This one gets a little steamy and suggestive, but there's nothing explicit, FYI.

XX

The courtyard was more beautiful than he'd ever seen it. Lanterns held the evening shadows at bay, the flowers were in full bloom, the water in the fountains sparkled in the light of fairies that had come with the great fairy's blessing. Magic was sweet in the air, little pops of it sending showering rainbows cascading down on the guests.

Link gazed at it all, entranced, temporarily pulled out of the usual dark exhaustion that numbed him to his core. For just a second, he genuinely felt alive, and for a moment longer, he recognized the gravity of the situation.

A baby. A baby.

The young king consort wandered through the gardens, barely noticing people bowing or nodding in acknowledgement to him. He had lost sight of the queen, and he knew he was supposed to be close to her.

He had walked through these gardens so many times in the past. It had been a while since he'd been outside, apart from going to the training grounds. He couldn't recall them ever looking so enlivened.

He wondered if the rest of the kingdom looked this bright. The last time he'd been outside the castle, Hyrule Field had been scorched earth.

Queen Zelda appeared ahead of him, standing on a slightly elevated part of the courtyard, and Link went to her. She was talking to Impa, who noticed Link's approach first, and the pair watched him as he climbed the stairs. Link looked Zelda over, a little unnerved at the swelling of her belly, at how it was emphasized by the dress she wore.

So many emotions flooded him. Guilt, pain, fear, hope, excitement, dread. He didn't know how to process this, how to look at the physical proof of what he'd been hearing for months. He hadn't seen her in months.

A baby.

The queen extended a hand, the motion holding gentle confidence despite the clear hesitancy in her gaze, and he automatically took it, letting her guide him towards the center of the courtyard. Impa's eyes never left him.

Crowds began to gather, more faces than he could count or focus on, and Link grew dizzy. He remained steadfast by his queen's side as she spoke to the people of Hyrule.

"Thank you for coming to celebrate with us," he heard when he tuned in. "The road has been perilous, but together, we are rebuilding. Hyrule will thrive once more, stronger than ever. May this child be a symbol of the goddess' favor, of the prosperity of Hyrule that is to come."

The crowd cheered, shouts of joy and praise and long live the queen and other phrases that Link could no longer decipher in the noise. His eyes wandered over the people aimlessly, letting himself be simultaneously shown off and ignored, until his gaze settled on a familiar face.

Amber eyes, captivating in their intensity. Dark brown skin, smooth and silky and glowing in the light. Fiery red hair, as bright as the sun, held out of a face with a high ponytail, spilling over bare shoulders in numerous small braids that were decorated with beads. A crimson bodice decorated with jewels and embroidery, with wide brimming baggy, silky pants and a shimmering red train laying overtop it that slid to the floor and pooled around like water.

The chief of the Gerudo.

Hemisi.

Link felt the blood drain out of his face. He hadn't seen her since... since... everything.

Although the Gerudo entourage around her applauded with the crowd, Hemisi was still and silent, just watching him, only him. Link wanted nothing more than to melt into the earth.

Something changed in the atmosphere. Queen Zelda released his hand, and the crowds moved. People started to mingle, many vying for the monarchs' attention. Though most flocked to his wife, Link still found himself suddenly surrounded by strangers, congratulating him and trying to make small talk and curry favor. Link did his best to fumble through the conversation, keeping his responses to smiles, nods, or a couple words, before the bombardment was interrupted. The crowd parted as if by force, and Link saw Hemisi approaching him, his party guests watching her uneasily.

Hemisi stopped a mere two paces away from him, but it felt like a canyon was between them.

"Your Highness," she acknowledged with a tip of her head.

Link swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. Her name came out of his lips as a whisper, inaudible above the din, and he nodded his head to cover his slip up.

"I must say," one of the nobles who had surrounded him piped up. "It is quite the surprise to see you here, Gerudo. You were not present for the royal wedding - I assumed you would not wish to set foot in Hyrule once more given what your people have done to this land."

Link felt the bottom drop out of his stomach while his skin crawled. His hands twitched, rage pushing him to throttle the man while anxiety of the repercussions held him in place. He couldn't help the glare that he threw in the noble's direction, though.

Hemisi's seething look far surpassed it. Despite the murderous intent in her gaze, though, and the way the noble cowered, she had an impressive amount of restraint. Her words dripped with venom as she replied, "Ganondorf led the assault and caused the war. I fought against him. I understand these things can get confusing to you, as I know for certain none of you partook in the war, instead hiding away in your riches while your people bled. But I bled with my people, the Gerudo suffered just as Hylians did. And I not only defeated Ganondorf, I helped your princess and hero split his soul into shards to ensure this never happened again."

The noble had no rebuttal, too busy shrinking away, and the others left with him.

They were alone.

Link wanted to scream, to apologize, to hunt the noble down and slit his throat, to slit his own throat.

"You really do suck at this whole political thing, don't you?" Hemisi asked, a lesser bite to her tone.

Link finally felt his chest stop tightening, allowing him to take a breath and let out a small, pathetic laugh. "Yeah. I... well, you know."

"Yeah. I know."

What should he say? What could he say?

"Let's walk," Hemisi suggested, not waiting for his consent before she started to guide him away from the center of the party.

They walked in silence for a while, Link's mind whirling, unable to formulate a sentence, wondering what was happening and what he was about to have to handle. His heart raced at her touch, his mind screamed at her proximity.

Farore above, why did this have to be so complicated?

Link started to grow dizzy, but finally, finally Hemisi found a hidden corner and tucked both of them into it. The music sounded so far away, reality sounded so far away.

Here, in the darkness, away from politics and pressure, Link found his voice. "I'm sorry for that. I--that was completely unacceptable."

"Will you kill him?" Hemisi questioned, crossing her arms.

"What? No, I can't--"

"I'm joking, stupid," Hemisi interrupted with a huff, before cocking her head to the side and asking, "Would you, if you could?"

The heat surged him in once more. "I'd certainly like to beat that entitlement out of him."

Hemisi remained silent, watching him longer until he started to squirm under her scrutiny. He wasn't sure where this conversation was going, or even where it should go - they hadn't spoken since--

"I'm sorry," he said before he realized it.

"You already said that."

"No, I--" he stumbled, caught between wanting to backtrack and wanting to follow through. How could he possibly apologize for everything? "I mean--I--"

"You did your duty," Hemisi replied in a monotone, as if to explain some unimportant detail, as if to hammer a point home, as if it didn't matter or mattered too much.

Link's head dropped, shame blushing his cheeks. But a bit of hope sparked in his heart too - if she could understand and accept it, then maybe he could too. Maybe they could salvage this.

"She looks fatter than I thought she would," Hemisi added dully, making Link's gaze snap back to her. The chief shrugged. "She does. Hope it hurts too."

"H-Hemisi," he chided halfheartedly, heart racing.

"You're going to defend her?" she snapped, ire returning in a heartbeat.

Why did this have to be so complicated? "You shouldn't--you shouldn't wish ill of her--"

"You don't?" Hemisi hissed back.

Link bit his tongue.

"You don't understand, do you?" she continued, taking a menacing step towards him. "How could you not understand--I thought you--after everything we've been through--"

"Hemisi, please--"

"Your people mock me and fear me despite everything, and that bitch is at the root of all these issues!"

"Don't call her that," Link snapped in return, the fire igniting inside him once more.

"I had to not only kill my own father, but tear his soul to pieces - he can't even rest in the afterlife, I helped condemn him to eternal hell, after already losing my mother and brother. And in the end, my reward was to lose the love of my life and let Hyrule punish my people for a war I didn't even start." Hemisi glowered. "I have every right to fight, every right to hate her, every reason to destroy this land, to take what is mine."

The air seemed to have frozen, alongside Link's blood. His ears were ringing, heart racing. This was spiraling out of control quickly, and his mind and heart were at war, sympathizing so much it hurt while also hearing Ganondorf's voice in her words.

Every right to fight, to destroy this land, to take what is mine.

Before he could retaliate, Hemisi backed down, just a hair, just enough to remove the danger from her words. "But I chose to stay my hand. People always say thank the goddesses when good things happen, but I assure you, the goddesses are thanking me."

The air was electric, and then the tension trickled away as Hemisi sighed, looking away. "Damn it. I wasn't--just forget it."

Link leaned against the stone wall, also averting his gaze. He was so tired. This wasn't exactly how he'd wanted a reunion between them to go, but he wasn't surprised that it was going this way.

"I'm sorry," he repeated quietly, sincerely.

A calloused hand touched his cheek, making him flinch. He wasn't used to physical contact anymore, having hid himself away for so long after everything. But the touch was familiar, skin smelling of oils that she used when they'd first met, the caressing akin to how she'd touched him before the war. He melted into it for a moment, looking at her as she watched him. Although Hemisi was an opinionated woman, she didn't seem to have any kind of reply to his apology, and the world grew quiet around them. Link let his hand rest overtop hers, and eventually he noted softly, "Your hand's cold."

The Gerudo chief snorted. "It's cold here in Castle Town."

Link reached and took her other hand, guiding both of them to his chest while his hands rested overtop them to warm them. Hemisi tilted forward, leaning her body weight against his as the wall supported them both, her softness making his entire body tingle. Their faces were inches apart, and Link lost his breath as she leaned in and kissed him.

Goddesses he'd missed this, he'd missed her. His skin felt electric, his blood like fire. Memories of time spent with her flooded his heart and mind, of nights stargazing and pointing out different constellations they'd learned with the stories behind them, of days sparring, of discussions on culture and ideas and duties, of adventures exploring and sneaking around, of comfort as tensions rose, of anguish as war broke out, of despair and relief and hope and--

Link let her pull him to the grass, lost in the moment, wanting this more than anything, when he heard the music off in the distance.

The party. The queen. The baby.

"Stop," he whispered, trying to regain his voice.

Hemisi paused, looking at him from overtop him, her hair spilling over her and creating a veil between them and the rest of the world.

"Why?" she asked just as softly, hands massaging his scalp. "We deserve it. You've done your duty, the queen has her victory kid, the kingdom's in love with it. Come back to the desert with me."

Link was losing himself in the relaxing motion, his body's desires overpowering his senses, and he held his breath, pushing against the earth with one foot to flip them over so he had her pinned gently to the ground, hands holding hers down at the wrists, keeping the temptation at bay.

I'm better than this. I can control myself. "You know it's not that simple, Hemisi."

"But it is that simple," she argued. "You married Zelda because she demanded it, because she needed the kingdom to think the royal family was strong. You did the gig for a year, there's a baby now, the family will live on. She doesn't need you anymore. You did your duty."

"She's still my wife," Link argued, moving away from her to sit by the stone wall.

"Did you mean it when you took the vows?" Hemisi demanded, sitting up. "Did you actually want to marry her?"

"I--I didn't want to marry her, but--"

"Then it doesn't count!"

"It does," Link snapped, rising. "Because I meant those vows, and I take my promises seriously."

"How can you be this--this idiotic?!" Hemisi yelled, also shooting to her feet. "When you first said you had to marry her--we were promised to each other, Link, and--I waited, I waited, I even let her take you because I didn't want the war to continue either, but the war is over and she has her token child, just leave her!"

"I already told you I can't!" Link argued. "Don't you understand what would happen? I meant those vows for a reason, Hemisi! This isn't just about Zelda's demands, it's about the entire kingdom! You're not the only one who had to sacrifice for peace! If Zelda and I hadn't married, it could've destroyed the Sheikah, the stability of the crown, and Hyrule along with it."

Link shook his head, feeling nauseous, and looked away. "If I were to leave her, especially for you, there will never be peace."

"You think Zelda will start a war again," Hemisi growled.

"Not her," Link replied. "But everyone else."

"You're defending her?"

"Hemisi, please," Link begged, getting the courage to look her in the eye again. "Please. I don't want anyone else to die. I especially don't want you to get hurt."

"You think I'd let them kill me?" she asked challengingly, though her tone was quiet and the way her eyebrow rose was as cheeky as it could be.

Link had to smile at it, complications forgotten temporarily, and he hugged her so tightly he could barely breathe. She held him just as fiercely. "I love you so much."

Hemisi's breath tickled his ear, shaky and vulnerable, and she buried her face in his shoulder to hide the tremble in her tone. "I love you too."

The pair stood there for what felt like hours, clinging to each other for comfort, desperate to express their care for each other, terrified to release each other, wanting nothing more than to make the rest of the world melt away.

Voices came ever closer, and eventually they let go. Hemisi dipped down to pick up the crown that had fallen off Link when they'd tumbled to the ground, and she silently placed it back on his head.

[multicolour-ink]

Remember what I said in my post about Mario and Luigi feeling pain through the other if someone were to torture their souls with dark magic?

- - -

Well, what about a different scenario? 👀

- - -

What if an evil entity decided to use their dark magic to pull the bond of the Bros apart?? Sever it entirely so the spiritual connection is lost.

Or instead just blocks the connection so they can't sense each other.

And all the while they are both in pain and running around looking for each other, panicked, their minds only filled with raw dread.

And them they are rescued/reunited. And they hold each other so tight, so overwhelmed by the close call and what that being was planning to do to them.

"I couldn't feel you..."

And then, they press each other so close together, tears pouring down their faces, their hands over each other's hearts, just so they can believe that they are ok. They're together. The bond between them is still alive. It's here. No one will ever dare try to separate them like that again.

Because yeah, they can still physically feel and see each other; but nearly losing the spiritual connection between them is just as worst.

[rarestdoge]

Okay but Streamer!Cam with VH actually drives me insANE!!! (well, VH in general drives me insane, but still.) Like, with chat going fucking crazy when Charles pops up, would they eventually point out that they haven't seen him in a while and ask where he is? Would Cam be able to tell them, would he give them a non-answer and try to work up the nerve for later, or would he break down and end stream right there? Would he be able to stream at all after Charles' death? Would he just go dark? It makes me so sad I LOVE IT

I just HAD to draw something for this because I AGREE WITH YOU VH in the Streamer AU might just be my FAVORITE version of it with Cam. Time for an in-detail explanation. Cracks fingers

Cam would definitely be completely silent for the first week or two, which would absolutely concern the hell out of his fans. He streams very often. Close friends and family would definitely worry and check up on him, especially Galeforce and Rupert. (Unfortunately, not Dave, though, because... yeeah- Now that's even sadder).

Eventually, though, he'd be able to muster enough energy to at least make a social media post breaking the unfortunate news to everyone, briefly explaining what happened, and informing them that he doesn't know when he'll be able to stream again. He hated to leave them hanging for so long.

This poor guy is going to need a long, LONG time to recover, and LOTS of support and therapy. Though, slowly but surely, once he starts to accept things as they are and recover enough, he'll pick up streaming again one step at a time. Maybe even returning with a just chatting stream to catch up with his fans, explain about how his life's been going, and talk about some good memories of Charles.