deuynndoodles

hi there! call us dey or the daybreak sys and we use they/star. we're an artist who is really into legend of zelda atm.

good question! i notice our art style can shift based on who's drawing but i haven't linked it to specific people nor do i think it's really noticeable to external folk

example: after our hiatus, we found ourself drawing more in depth anatomy (heels to feet, rounding shoulders, etc) automatically but some of us still do something closer to what it looked like before !

Expectations change as the two of you get closer to adulthood. Zelda stretches herself to fit what’s expected of her while you shrug it off like a duck does water—you hate it when people boss you around.

You knew since you were little you were going to become a blacksmith and you’re not backing out now. The forge is a welcome constant that keeps you going as things change around you.

No, that’s not right: the minish stay the same, too.

Link, and all the ways he does and doesn't grow up.

i'll start off by saying: we are plural. we've been pretty obvious.

taking your question in good faith! i like plural four just in general. a plural lens to explore parts of self is always fun and a really neat way to approach characterization. how do the conflicting parts of you interact and how can they compromise?

so far i'm leaning towards this: four is cohesive until there's internal conflict (good or bad; this can mean red really wants to play with the vet's fire rod). this divides the train of thought into four separate tracks

disordered plurality with fsa link specifically tends to be hit or miss. it's not really my thing. the sword that magically splits people is enough and has fun connotations to explore!

Link’s seen every inch of the Great Sea by this point and not one mermaid. She’s a big girl and can admit when her grandma’s stories are just that: stories.

She bites her tongue and fiddles with her joy pendant, cursing herself out, as she very carefully does not make eye contact with the wide, golden eyes fixed on her from under the pier.

A sailor, a mermaid, and a necklace.

Sound crashes back in, overwhelming and unforgiving. He blinks open his eyes; searing light makes him close them again reflexively. His body doesn’t respond to his commands. Is that grass under his palms?

When did he fall to the ground?