We Need More Walkable Cities. I Am So Tired Of My Transportation Turning To Aquatic Life. It’s So Inconvenient.

Morning routine ☀️

Steve: Myself and Robin are best friends.

Robin: Platonic soulmates, if you will.

Steve: We share everything.

Robin: Food-

Steve: Clothes-

Robin: Music taste-

Steve: taste in women-

Robin: gender-

Steve: a single brain cell-

Robin: the only thing we don’t share is an interest in men.

Steve: *holding Eddie’s hand* damn my bisexuality for ruining something so perfect.

Youth - Chapter 2

Ship: Eddie Munson/Reader Rating: Mature Warning: Vomitting & very brief non-graphic nudity Tags: Hurt/comfort, sickfic, touch-starved Eddie, pre-canon Summary:

You take care of Eddie when he's sick.

Text below!

Chapter 1 here.

You wait until he’s slept for a good three hours (roughly the length of Lord of the Rings) before you get up. Taking extreme measures to slip out from under him and replace your body with a pillow, you pause, watching him make sure he keeps sleeping. When he doesn’t stir, you breathe a sigh of relief. Rewinding the tape to roughly where he fell asleep, you put it back on for him before swiftly exiting his room. 

It’s late, you know that. So you head to the phone and dial-up your home number. It takes two rings before your mother’s voice is coming through the phone:

“(Y/N)!? Where have you been!”

“Sorry, mom, I know, I should’ve been home but…” you take a really deep breath, facing away from Eddie’s room so you don’t wake him. “Eddie got really sick at school. Throwing up sick. I was the one to get him home, and I thought since I’d been in close contact with him it was best not to bring whatever bug he’s got home. I’m gonna stay here a while until he’s recovered, just to be safe so I don’t get you contagious.”

“Oh thank God, I thought something awful happened to you. What with the disappearances not too long ago. Yes, hon, I understand if you want to stay there - I can stop by with something to eat for the both of you if you’d like.”

“That would actually be amazing,” you say with a soft laugh. “I know it might be too much to ask but could you grab the movies from my room? Just pick out whatever so I don’t go insane with my own thoughts. He’s not that big of a talker when he’s like this.”

“Will do. I’ll see you in about… how does an hour or so sound? I’ll defrost that chicken broth in the freezer and get you something proper to eat. Don’t want to overwhelm his stomach now.”

“You are seriously the greatest. Say hi to dad for me, I probably won’t be back for a few days just to be safe we’re not contagious.”

“I understand, sweetie. I’ll see you in a jiff.”

“Bye, mom,” you say, hanging up the phone. 

Taking a deep breath, you lean against the counter and stare at Wayne’s hat collection. You were lucky to have a mom who could see past Eddie’s whole… Eddie. Especially since she could bring you food as you didn’t have three days worth of takeout money. Eddie might, judging by the wrappers everywhere, but you weren’t about to make him put out while he’s sick. He can just pay you back later with some weed and jam sessions. 

You check on him every so often, leaving the door open just a smidge so that you can make sure he’s still in fact, breathing. He’s out cold (thankfully). 

So, you grab a bit of weed from his stash and your bong from his room. You left it here as it was easier than having it in your own house. Your parents were tolerant, but not that tolerant. 

With one final glance back at Eddie, you open the door to the trailer and take a seat on the steps. It’s still early evening as you pack the bowl and click on your lighter. It's not quite the same as smoking with Eddie. It lacks his signature conversation and excessive hand gestures. To be honest, it feels a tad too alone for your tastes, dragging down your mood and impacting your high. He’s barely a few feet away and yet he feels so out of reach.

You persevere anyway. You need something to take the edge off the flutter in your chest when he looked at you with those puppy dog eyes. Now was absolutely not the time to go about suffering over a crush.

Leaning back, your head hits the trailer door, a smoke ring drifting through the air. 

You sit on the steps until you see your mother’s car out of the corner of your eye. Forcing yourself to stand you set the bong on the counter inside the trailer and step back outside. She’s grabbing something from the passenger seat as you walk up to her.

“Hey, that didn’t take long,” you say, holding out your hands to take the containers. 

“It took an hour and a half,” she points out, passing you a thermometer. “Here, because I doubt he has one.”

“Thanks, thanks. Times kinda weird when you’re taking care of someone sick so forgive me -” she nods her head - “Anyway, should probably get this into the trailer. I don’t really want to get you sick so uh…”

“(Y/N) I’ve taken care of you while sick countless times. A brief moment in the contamination zone won’t affect me,” she chides. You swear if she didn’t have a box of VHS tapes in her arms her hands would be on her hips. Spiritually they’re definitely there. 

“Right, right,” you mumble to yourself, letting her into the trailer. 

You’re immediately reminded why you hate trailers when the sound of Eddie taking a leak provides “ambience” for the two of you. You set the leftovers down on the counter, shaking your head. To you, it’s normal. Not that you particularly want it to be, but there’ve been plenty of times where he’s paused a movie and gotten up to piss, gracing you with the sound as you try and ignore it until he’s back. 

“Forgive him, he was supposed to be asleep,” you dismiss, baffled that he even had anything left in his system to be turned into urine. 

“I’m a grown woman. I’ve changed your diapers. I’m sure I can handle hearing your boyfriend pee,” she says, setting the VHS tapes down on the coffee table. 

“He’s not my -”

“Hey, (Y/N), I know this is going to sound pathetic but could you make me some soup? I kinda… I don’t feel like vomiting anymore. Starvin’ actually,” Eddie says, cutting you off as he wanders out of the bathroom, using the wall as leverage. “Mrs.(Y/L/N)?! What are you doing here?”

Your mother simply smiles and nods her head.

“Sure he isn’t,” she chirps to you before heading for the door. “Eddie, dear, I hope you get better soon. If you kids need anything else I’m a phone call away. Oh, and remember to wait at least three hours after the last time you puke before eating.”

“Thanks for everything, mom!” you call as she shuts the door. “You’re welcome, dear,” she chirps.

With that, the trailer door shuts and she’s gone. Leaving you alone with a very confused Eddie. 

You sigh, shaking your head before turning your attention to Eddie. He’s deflated against the wall, scratching his stomach with his shirt pooling around his wrist. He can barely keep his eyes open and you're fairly certain if the wall wasn’t there he’d have fallen over. 

“Come here, let’s check your temperature,” you hum, taking out the tiny thermometer. “Then we can get some food in your system. My mom brought chicken soup.”

He grins at this, wobbly and lopsided:

“I always liked your mom’s cooking. Makes me feel like home.”

“You’re delirious,” you say as you shake the thermometer down. “Open wide for me.”

He grins and sticks his tongue out in a sluggish version of the Devil’s naked tongue. You sigh and shake your head, still shaking the thermometer down. 

“No this goes under your tongue you goof, come on, work with me and you get to pick out the next movie,” you insist.

“Thought next one was Indiana Jones,” he slurs, putting his tongue away.

“You have to corporate first. My mom brought a bunch of my old ones,” you inform him, setting the thermometer under his tongue. “There, now, stay here for two minutes. Think you can handle that?”

He nods diligently and you accept it, turning your attention to reheating the soup. You watch the clock to make sure that he’s not just standing there, though you hadn’t anticipated him to be watching it as well. It’s barely been two minutes when he rests his head on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist. 

“Someone’s impatient,” you laugh, praying he can’t hear your heartbeat as you take the thermometer out of his mouth. 

“Hungry,” he mumbles, watching you read it.

“Yikes,” you mumble. “One-hundred and two degrees Fahrenheit. One more and we’d need to call you a doctor.”

“Can I still get soup?”

“Yes, you still get soup,” you assure him, patting his hand. “Come on, let’s get you to the couch and so you’re not overexerting yourself.”

He allows you to lead him to the couch, settling him down with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders so he won't get cold. You leave him in a bundle to return to the stove, reheating the soup for him. You can feel his eyes on you as you work, unsure of what to say and knowing he won’t be much for conversation. So you let silence permeate the trailer until you settle down next to him, the bowl in your lap. He’s turned his whole body to face you, still snuggled in his blanket.

“Open,” you request, filling the spoon with broth.

He looks from the spoon to you, nervously. 

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah… I just… is it weird that you’re feeding me? Shouldn’t I do that?”

“Think you can do this or do you want me to? I promise I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” you ask, offering him the spoon. 

He considers it for a quiet moment, curling in on himself in the blankets. You can see he’s still shivering despite the fuzzy fabric. 

“... you. Too cold.”

“Alright,” you say, keeping your tone neutral and level.

You’re actually hoping that he’s going to keep it down. He’s gotten three spoonfuls in, going back for his fourth. Even if he takes really long pauses in between, he’s showing promise. 

You know the instant he puffs his cheeks out a little that this isn’t going to end well. Quickly setting the bowl on the coffee table, Eddie groans. 

“Need help to the bathroom?” you ask tentatively, reaching to take his blanket. 

“Mmm,” he says while shaking his head. 

You arch an eyebrow, taking a seat back on the couch. You’ve barely sat down when he’s bolting for the bathroom. Without a second thought, you go after him, making sure his braid isn’t near his face while he rejects the soup. It feels like forever before he finally stops, and you’re not even the one throwing up. You rub his back, letting him rest his head on his arm currently wrapped around the toilet. 

“Please… make it stop,” he whimpers, his eyes squeezed shut. 

“I wish I could, Eds. Let’s get you a cold shower, see if we can bring the fever down and get some of ick off,” you say, standing up to turn on the shower.

“Again? I just had one though,” he mumbles without moving. 

“Eddie, you are super clingy right now and I am not letting you cling to me while covered in toilet germs and sweat,” you point out, reaching to help him stand. 

“Fair point,” he mutters, stripping out of his shirt. You pull the elastic out of his hair to let him wash it. 

“Mhm. Let’s get you nice and cool, then we can watch Indiana Jones,” you remind him, helping him to step out of his pants and into the shower. 

“You’re too good for me. Don’t deserve this,” he mumbles as you shut the curtain. 

“I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t whole-heartedly disagree,” you point out. “Now get clean. I’m going to go eat something and then I’ll come help you out.”

“Go eat, ‘can wash myself,” he dismisses you, waving his hand behind the curtain.

“Just call if you need me,” you say as you step out of the bathroom, leaving the door open. 

You opt to wash your hands in the sink before getting your own dinner ready. Thankfully you can just pop it into his microwave, wait two minutes, then have a hot meal. Your mother's cooking was always the best, even if you ate it quickly so as to not leave the smell lingering through the trailer when you got Eddie out of the shower. 

The sound of vomiting interrupts you twice, and you plug your ears until it’s over. Not once does he call for you, and you feel bad, knowing that he wants to let you eat. Or perhaps he just doesn’t want you to see him naked more than you have to. Which is entirely fair. 

Either way, you finish your food, knocking on the open door:

“Ready to get out yet?”

“Yeah,” he slurs as the water shuts off. 

“Think you can dry yourself while I get you some clean clothes?” 

“I got it,” he confirms.

You dip into his room, grabbing more comfy clothes and bringing them back with you. He’s slow to dry off, still trying to get his hair when you return. 

“I’ll do your hair after, just dry the rest of your body,” you encourage him, holding his clothes. 

He does as he’s told without a fight (which is so very rare for him it’s uncanny). Once he’s dry and dressed you’ve gotten him back to bed, Indiana Jones in the VHS player as you sit on the edge of his bed. There’s a bowl next to the bed just in case he vomits again.

“Can you braid my hair again?” he asks quietly, barely able to keep his eyes open. 

“Are you just trying to fall asleep on me again?” you question, fidgeting with his hair tie. 

“... please?” 

You really need to learn how to say no to his puppy-dog eyes because they have you sitting behind him once more, running your fingers through his hair. 

“Your hair is an utter mess. Do you own a comb?” you ask incredulously, knowing he does, just not where. 

“Desk,” he grunts.

You grab it from where it’s pressed between a DnD module and a music notebook. You pick up the notebook, setting it down on the bed. 

“Oh, no, don’t look in that. It’s just shitty lyrics I’m working on,” he immediately says, piquing your curiosity. 

“Oh? Any new songs I should be aware of?” you question as you sit down behind him, taking a comb to his messy hair. 

“No,” he says quietly, tucking his knees to his chest. 

“Nothing?”

“Nothin’.”

“If you say so…”

You know he’s definitely hiding something from you, but, his hair takes top priority. So you comb out every knot you come across, letting him stay quiet and watch the movie. You know talking isn’t the greatest when you’re nauseous. 

He falls asleep before you can even finish braiding his hair, drooling on your shirt with his arms around your waist. You have a feeling this is going to become a regular occurrence, which you don’t exactly mind. He’s always cuddly when he’s high, no matter who he’s with. You’re not surprised he’s the same way when sick; even with a fever that high, he’s still shivering. 

So you let him sleep through Indiana Jones and Fantastic Planet, and the Outsiders, waking up part way through the Empire Strikes Back. He blinks a few times, squinting at the television as he watches the movie. You only notice he’s awake when he snuggles closer to you.

“Woke up for the good part,” he mumbles, watching the battle rage on. 

“Hey you, sleep well?” you hum, your attention immediately on him; brushing his bangs from his face. He still feels like he’s on fire, which isn’t surprising as it’s not even ten yet.

“Ask me tomorrow. Do… do you think we can try more soup?”

“You’re going to have to let me get up for that,” you point out, watching as he lazily redirects his gaze to you. 

“You gonna come back?”

“Just need to get the soup reheated.”

“Okay,” he huffs, shuffling off of you to let you off the bed. He pushes himself to sit up, resting his head on his knees with droopy eyes and a frown.

“I’ll be right back,” you assure him, patting his head.

You try to be as quick as you can. You know that he’ll be distracted by the movie, yet, you hate to leave him like that. Standing in the kitchen you press your lips together with a frown. You shouldn’t reheat soup if you’re not sure if he’ll waste it again. So, instead, you get some of the ice from the freezer and add it to a glass. Then you head back to the room.

“I know it’s not soup, but let's see if you can stomach this first,” you propose, sitting down next to him. 

“Okay,” he nods, opening his mouth.

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you set an ice cube on his tongue. 

The whole glass is gone quickly. You wait fifteen minutes, letting him rest against your side as you watch the movie with him. When he doesn’t puke it back up, you get up and return with soup.

This time you only give him three spoonfuls, and you wait again. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen. The soup stays down.

“Progress,” you hum, filling another spoon. “Think you can eat another?”

“Absolutely,” he grins, as proud of himself as you are.

hello danonation, tonights a fine night to talk about parasocial relationships, internet etiquette, and just common fucking decency???

do: take inspiration from dano and kazan, watch their movies, take screenshots, write fanfiction about their CHARACTERS, maladaptive daydream about them literally fucking whatever okay go wild within reason.

dont: dont stalk them. dont leak their private, intimate photos online. dont repost said intimate photos. think fucking critically when you see a picture that seems off or a little too private. dont publicly post deranged shit about dano on social media where theres a chance he or his relatives (his DAUGHTER someday?!) could see it. dont do this shit to ANY person, celebrity or otherwise! how would you feel? this is common sense people i cant believe i have to tell you this…

i cannot expect people to censor themselves in private conversations, in diaries, in sketchbooks, on writing software, but i urge you all to keep these things PRIVATE. have some fucking decorum if you must do any weird shit. celebrities are human beings just like us. if you wouldnt say it to their face, or to your neighbour, then you should keep your mouth shut period.

eddie makes ur plushies kiss u all over ur face and makes exaggerated smooching sounds just to hear u giggle <33

please he drags it down to your boobs n then places the plushie aside like "sorry that's actually my job, buddy."

FOR YOUR 4K CELEBRATION!!

okay i’ll give you two options and you can choose one of them:

1. friends to lovers with my boy klitz

2. second chance with percy dolarhyde

i wuv u and im so proud of you🥰

uwu thank u sissy

yknow i HAD to indulge you and do your boy

Thank God Timothy Klitz had a driver's license.

The party sucked, if you were being honest, and that was before your crush rejected you. The humiliation of it, putting yourself out there only to be let down, had brought tears to your eyes, and you called the only person you could think to pick you up. "Tim?" you had said as he answered the phone; you hated using his last name like Eli and Matthew did, especially considering that he was as close to a brother as you'd ever have, and, to your knowledge, you were the only person who used his first name. "Can you come pick me up?"

The car was eerily silent as Tim drove you home, and you fiddled with the radio for a moment before slumping back in your seat and sighing. "Did something happen?" Tim asked. "You look sad."

You shrugged. "It's stupid," you said. "There was this game of spin the bottle, and it landed on Peter, and he laughed."

Tim was your best friend; he knew your infatuation with Peter. "Peter's a huge dick," Tim told you. "He doesn't deserve you."

"It just..." you sighed, and your bottom lip wobbled as you tried not to burst into tears. "It made me feel like nobody wants me, y'know? It hurts."

Tim sighed, and he reached over and took your hand in his. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "If you had spun that bottle and it landed on me, I wouldn't have laughed."

"Yeah, because you're not a dick," you laughed softly.

"I guess I'm not," Tim chuckled. "After all, it is one in the morning and I came and picked you up from a party. That's not very dick-ish."

"It's not," you agreed. You looked down at your hands, intertwined in your lap, his so much bigger than yours, and you mumbled, "Your hand is so big."

"Yours is small," Tim said. A beat passed, and then he let go of your hand, settling his back on the steering wheel, and you watched him, not fully understanding why you hated it.

"Why'd you let go?" you asked.

"Oh," Tim mumbled. "I thought you didn't like it."

"No," you said. "I did. I... Tim, I—"

"I really like you," Tim said quickly, reaching back and taking your hand again. "And I hate seeing you upset over some asshole, okay? You can hate me for it, but I just... I don't know. I have all these feelings and I don't know what to do with them. But I really like you."

"I like you too," you whispered. "I like you a lot."

Even in the dim light, you could see a red flush overtake Tim's face. "Good," he said. "Cool. That's, um, that's cool. Do you... Do you have a date to prom? M-Maybe do you wanna go with, um, with me?"

You smiled. "I'd love to go to prom with you, Tim."

I am so invested ??

A plotting princess

P1

P2

P4

.

Link stroked your hair gently, staring down at your peaceful face as your head rested in his lap.

It had been so long since he had seen your face bereft of fear or hate or the intense look you had when fighting something. Seeing you through the eyes of monsters was like a weak bandage applied to a broken bone – it only healed surface-level damage and did nothing for the pain beneath.

Watching you from the eyes of monsters didn’t do much to quell the fire within him, but it was the best he could do given the circumstances. The infernal princess was holding him back, just like she had done all those years ago when all he wanted was to take you into his arms and comfort you. Dry your tears. Hold you in his arms as the world collapses around the two of you.

He didn’t care much about Hyrule or what little it had to offer – all he wanted was you, you, you, and while you might be a little afraid of him now and might hate him here at this moment, Link was sure that a few years with no one else for company would change your mood.

You’d learn to love him again just like you had done all those years ago when you chattered to him to get him to open up. When you bandaged his wounds and scolded him for being reckless. When you covered him in fights defending that useless princess.

You were everything he wanted and more, and soon, he’d be free.

Free to take you into his arms and love you until you could breathe nothing but his love.

“Soon.”

.

The Lynel watched you as you made your way down the North Akkala Foothill. It wasn’t in the usual threatening stance Lynels generally stood in when anyone encroached on their territory, and you eyed it wearily. The more intelligent part of you knew that Link and the Calamity were watching you through the creature’s eyes, and you tried to pay it no mind, but the shiver running up your spine told it exactly what you were feeling. You had just left the Akkala Ancient Tech Lab after buying a few bundles of Ancient Arrows to help defeat the scourge of Vah Naboris and were now just wandering aimlessly.

‘He knows,’ you couldn’t help but think as you glanced back to the Lynel to see it still watching you, posture stiff but not threatening. ‘Link and the Calamity know I came to get more Ancient Arrow, and they know I was going to Naboris straight after.’

Your hand skipped to the blade on your back; the creature made no move to attack or do anything other than stare at you.

‘I think I prefer being attacked than watched.’

There was no way you could conquer any of the remaining Divine Beasts – the Calamity was probably already prepared for your arrival, and you didn’t want to risk it – you could wait another day or so until you went up to do battle with them.

Taking out the Sheikah Slate, you clicked a random shrine in the Hateno area and braced yourself for the warp.

After successfully landing, you made your way away from the more civilised areas and towards Firly Plateau, where you’d make your camp for the night. The Great Plateau was another choice to stay at, but you couldn’t bear it.

The Great Plateau was where you had woken up after a century of sleep, and while it was beautiful and the perfect place to gather your bearings, you hated it. There wasn’t anyone there to tell you about what happened all those years ago since the late king didn’t think it was wise for you to know just yet – you never liked him for how he treated Zelda, but this made your dislike grow stronger: Who was he to decide these things for you?

The silence and isolation of that plateau made you feel worse, and you remembered leaving it as soon as you could, unable to bear the silence for a moment longer, and your fair land of Hyrule was far more comforting than the silence up there. Yes, the various wildlife and monsters up there spaced out the dreadful silence, but there were no people, no travellers, no friendly faces you could occasionally converse with when you needed supplies.

Now that the king was gone, there was no one else up there, and you didn’t quite fancy being the only Hylian up there, so to Firly Plateau, you went.

The afternoon had passed to the evening when you eventually arrived, and you barely had enough energy to bring out your bedroll from the slate and to start a fire with a bundle of wood and a piece of flint, but you somehow managed. Lying down, you flicked through the slate, idly taking note of what you had that would be useful in your fight with the Divine Beasts.

The one haunting Naboris would most likely be the most difficult to defeat. It led you to buy many bundles of Ancient Arrows from Robbie and Cherry, and you had decided to use them with your Savage Lynel bow, which somehow fired multiple arrows despite consuming only one. You didn’t understand it but weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, as the saying went.

Medoh would most likely be easier to defeat, and your shock arrows and ice arrows would make it easier for you to close in for the kill, and your mighty elixirs would hopefully help you deal more damage when it came time for melee combat with the beasts.

Sighing, you returned the slate to your wait and turned to look up at the stars.

“The stars are quite beautiful.”

Jumping, you whipped around to see Zelda – Zelda, Zelda, Zelda – sitting on the log across from you. Your mouth opened and closed several times as you fumbled with what to say to her.

You had planned to say so much when you finally rescued her, but seeing her in front of you, a golden projected image of herself and not the real her, you didn’t know what to say.

You settled for staring at her, your eyes greedily drinking her form in as this was the first time you saw her in decades.

“I… They are beautiful,” you managed after a while, and she smiled at you, making your heart flutter.

She was still wearing the same tailored robes she had been wearing to the Spring of Wisdom a hundred years ago when the Calamity had burst free, and you felt less than her in your Sheikah Armour set… but that didn’t matter – you weren’t alone!

“I miss you,” you said after a moment of silence, and the blonde smiled.

“I miss you too.”

You scooted to her at her words and raised your hand, unsure of your movements, but Zelda moved too.

Her hand came to hover near yours, fingertips brushing yours gently.

She wasn’t solid, and you weren’t sure how to describe it, but the best you could explain was that it felt like walking through water. And she was so warm, unlike Daruk and Mipha, who were so cold.

“How are you holding up?” you found yourself asking, unsure of what to say, what to ask your best friend of many years. You couldn’t even remember the last full conversation you had with her in person other than the warnings she sent you telepathically.

“I’m well.”

You raised an eyebrow, scoffing at that. “Zel, you and I both know that’s a lie.”

Zelda smiled again, and it stabbed at your heart.

“It is rotten work, but it’s what I’m destined to do,” she said before turning her gaze to meet your eyes, “and how fares your quest?”

You exhaled heavily, reluctantly tearing your gaze from her form and staring into the fire and sighed, rubbing at your eyes.

Zelda’s suddenly solid hand cupped your cheek and turned your face back to hers, and you couldn’t help it. You broke down into sobs.

 You hadn’t realised just how touch-starved you were until her gentle hold on your cheek sent all the hastily but carefully built walls inside of you tumbling down, and you wept in the arms of the only person in Hyrule who possibly understood what you were going through.

Zelda’s arms around you were a wall blocking out the rest of the world, and all you could hear were her gentle, soothing noises and her heartbeat.

It was so strange that his projected image of your best friend had a heartbeat.

You wanted nothing more than to drown yourself in her heartbeat, the unshakeable safety that her arms brought, and the soft sound of her voice murmuring into your hair.

Eventually, your tears dried up, and you pulled away, furiously rubbing at your eyes.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” you whispered, trying to make yourself presentable, but she only smiled gently.

“Y/N, you had seen worse from me all those years ago,” her voice rang with honesty, but you couldn’t remember for the life of you. Though, what you had gleaned from your conversations and interactions with the late king of Hyrule, you figured that the man wasn’t the best father even though he may have been a better king.

“Still, you came all this way, and I started crying on you. What kind of a friend am I?” you joked, and she smiled again, shaking her head gently.

“You know I’ve been watching over you when I can.”

You nodded, feeling a flare of warmth in your chest at her words. The weight of her gaze watching you occasionally brought much comfort to you, and it was so unlike the cold stare of the various monsters that roamed the land and Link’s hungry gaze that shined through the coldness of the monsters’ eyes.

“I always felt that you staying away from civilian areas was so noble of you,” Zelda’s hands came to clasp yours gently, “you were always trying to do what was right by others, never being selfish.”

You flushed, glancing away bashfully, before turning your gaze back to her.

“I’m only trying to keep them safe. They shouldn’t suffer for my mistakes.”

The princess’s green gaze hardened, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

“This wasn’t your fault.” She spoke firmly, the golden light flickering around her pulsed brighter for a moment. “I know it, Mipha knows it, and Daruk knows it. The only one who doesn’t know it is you.”

You sighed, heart weighed down by everything that had happened. “I can’t help but feel it is. I wish I had known then what I know now.”

Zelda hummed, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles.

“I’ve spent decades wishing the same,” she spoke, and you flinched slightly – how could you have forgotten that she’d spent a century fighting this fight while you had rested. “But there’s nothing I can do to change it, and there’s nothing you could have done to change what happened.”

She was right.

You had thought these same thoughts and turned them around in your mind, mulling over them like you did when waiting for an omelette to crisp up nicely in the pan before it was ready, but hearing it for Zelda, Zelda, Zelda, seemed to confirm it.

Zelda had spent so long fighting, and who better to confirm those thoughts than the one currently holding the Calamity and Link at bay?

“You’re right.” You said eventually, and she smiled, warming your heart. “I just wish there was some way I could physically help you….”

“Oh, Y/N,” Zelda’s soft expression made your heart flutter as her hand came to cup your cheek gently. “Continuing to fight inspires me, and that is enough.”

Sitting under the twinkling stars with the one you cared for so deeply made your heart swell with hope, and hope continued to flourish as the campfire embers slowly died during the night.

.

Zelda startled, coming back to her senses.

She was back inside her and the Calamity’s prison and sighed gently, rubbing her upper arms for warmth even though it didn’t do anything. It was neither cold nor warm here, and it was always dark asides from when she used her powers. The only thing that broke in the darkness where the handful of disembodied eyes surrounding the fallen champion of Hyrule.

“I see you went to see our beloved.” Link’s voice broke the silence, and a coil of anger curled around Zelda’s heart.

“Our beloved? Oh please, you don’t love them.” She snapped back, barely restraining her anger, but it was true: Link didn’t love you, not like she did.

Link merely wanted to have you; otherwise, he wouldn’t have fallen to the Calamity’s machinations. If the swordsman had truly loved you, he would have stayed on the true path and courted you the traditional way instead of dooming all their friends and Hyrule’s populace to a miserable fate.

“Ah yes, because you know what love is,” Link scoffed, and she clenched her fists. “She’s not yours either.”

“Then-”

“She wouldn’t have chosen you,” Link taunted, but Zelda held back her fury – she knew what he was doing, and it wouldn’t work. Frantically, she forced the memory of comforting you in her arms into her mind’s eye. “You were only a means to an end.”

“Ah, yes, because you’ve known her for as long as I have,” she shot back, restraining her fury.

Think of Y/N. Think of her smile. Think of her voice. Think of Y/N-

“Why would she want you? Having to deal with the conformity of royalty and those rules-”

“What could you have offered her? The life of a housewife waiting on a husband whose constantly away? You and I both know how those stories end.”

That must have hit a sore spot for the swordsman, judging by his twitch.

“You’re acting as if I’d stay and play protector for you back then; I’d have done anything to make her happy.”

Zelda raised an eyebrow, “And dooming her to this fate is making her happy?”

Link fell silent, and Zelda hummed, thinking.

What exactly did the Calamity promise to Link all those years ago? The blond was always resolute, so what had made him fall?

A proper conversation with the man himself was needed before going forward.

Raising a hand, her power glowed, destroying the malice, maws and eyes around the swordsman.

“Link, please listen,” she began. “It’s about Y/N.”

He turned to face her head-on, both eyes their usual blue rather than one being taken over by malice.

“What did the Calamity promise you?”

Link scoffed, “You already know that it promised me Y/N after it took over-”

“Do you really think it’ll keep its word?”

Link fell silent, eyeing her as he turned her words over in his head.

“Where are you going with this?”

“Do you?” she prompted.

“Yes.”

“Y/N and I won’t stop fighting, ever. You know her well enough to know she isn’t going to give up easily. This story ends with your defeat, whether tomorrow or the next year – you know how this ends.”

Link stiffened, eyes staring straight through her, but Zelda continued.

“But, if you join us, I can guarantee I will advocate for your forgiveness….”

Zelda could almost see the cogs turning in his head and pushed forward.

“I’m not willing to let her go, and I doubt you are… But if we joined together….”

“Y/N would be ours.”

“Exactly.”

A/N: I have no idea what happened here....

Anyway, it's currently 4AM which is not gucci for me tbh so ef[josgip

@cloudninetonine @xynnia @times-bisoprolol @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships @littleblackcat40 @vlastimiru

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK PLEASE I AM STARVING FOR FEEDBACK E[FISGRJOPIDF

oh you have a tattoo? cool.. so ur telling me you were penetrated for hours and such? well good for you man :) no I did not word that weirdly what do you mean

Ghost: Do you want to play 20 questions? Y/N: Sure! Y/N: What's your favourite colour? Ghost, laser fucking focused: Triangle. Do you love me?