✨ perhaps if you feel it-- or perhaps you say something about yourself / someone you feel could use a pick me up!
A Little Positivity
Emery, everything else I'm going to say will pale in comparison to this: you made me get invested in the Twinrova, a task nobody else has been capable of. My god, you put so much work into the Sheikah AND the age of discord and!!! Listen, I've mentioned before that my favorite kind of fics/headcanons are the ones that go over time that is mentioned in canon, but doesn't get a thorough explanation and you DELIVERED!!! It doesn't hurt that we're on basically the same side re: hyrule and its ethics, and I could plot for actual hours with you about the age of discord, the twins, Urbosa kidnapping the twins and raising them with halfway decent parental figures... What was I talking about again?
And that's not even mentioning you as a mun! You're so responsive and you roll with my weird ideas so well I just sldkjfs I love talking to you Emery, it's a joy to see you on my posts <3
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@wisdomcend sent :✨ perhaps if you feel it-- or perhaps you say something about yourself / someone you feel could use a shout out!
so......i haven't ocarina of time'd yet, though not for lack of trying. when i do, though, i Know i'm gonna be like 🤨 this isn't what happens in tumblr user wisdomcend's narrative. sounds fake idk. but seriously, your posts have been super fun to read even with full context of the game, and i know they're going to make the experience that much more fun when i do get there ! also, your designs for everyone ? mega banger. laying down at zelda asheral's feet literally whenever she's okay with it
and since @thomasrainier also sent in a very sweet ask for your blogs, i'm gonna say another thing i like : your taste in media goddamn...immaculate. i know peter nureyev von tpp and alizayd ( to only cite two ! ) are on your multi, and bless UP for that. will be consuming any content you put out 15/10
[❛❛ I just woke up and I’m already going back to bed. ❜❜ ] - signed from sheik to link
Meme Tag -- @wisdomcend
Sweeping a hand in front of his chest, moving from fingers open to closed, he reversed the direction of movement, making a grab in the air with his left hand crossing his body. Fingers trembled slightly before gripping in front of him, almost like holding a rope. Pointer fingers on both hands crooked slightly before circling in the air next to his head. << And miss this fascinating ceremony? >> Link replied, careful to make sure no one else could see his signs. He knew at least the other knights in the room could understand what he said, although they looked as bored as the prince, so he suspected they wouldn't fault him, although the advisors to the king might.
He certainly couldn't blame Sheik for wanting to leave. Link had seen grass growing in Hyrule Field that was more entertaining than this. Usually the Midwinter festival was a time spent with families at home, all cozy around their respective fires, making sure to tend it lest it go out on the darkest day of the year. But in the Castle, the day passed with droning incantations and prayers, the royal family kneeling before the goddess statue in diligent solemnity. Or mostly diligent solemnity.
Link knew which style he preferred. Placing a flat right palm in front of his chest, he rested his left fisted hand on top, thumb sticking out. Lifting both slightly into the air, he tapped at his chest. << Help me. >>
"i think … i think i need a doctor ." sheik, very calmly, yknow, as one in shock does-- to link
Meme Tag -- @wisdomcend
Link blanches at the tone in the other's voice, noting that before anything else, hands automatically reaching out to steady the prince to keep him from falling to the ground. Goddess, he doesn't look good, nor does the blood seeping on the other's clothes provide any reassurance either.
A hiss escapes Link's teeth as he slips himself underneath the other's shoulder to offer better support, free arm reaching back into his pack to find a healing potion. At least he had the wherewithal to brew some for himself recently, but he knows that it won't be nearly enough to heal whatever happened to the prince, hopefully just enough to keep him stable.
Passing the small vial to the other, he rounds his hand slightly as if holding a cup, tipping the hand to his lips. << Drink. >>
how long has it been since someone's touched his hair?
fingers brush through long, blonde strands of hair, a delicate & careful touch that defies the status of weaponry held by the man behind him. if it was anyone else, anyone but this disgraced hero, that sat here with such a soothing touch to their scalp, they would surely fall asleep. it lulled him into relaxation, hand resting in his lap idly, fingers twitching with unspent energy & insecurity every moment or so.
he can't remember the last time anyone's touched his hair. let alone brushed it for him. braid it for him.
it's a struggle for him, most days, to do anything with his hair. brushing was a long & tedious chore that was more painful than anything ; & while braiding wasn't nearly as bad, it was still time consuming, & if he didn't do it right the first time -- if it didn't live up to those self imposed standards he's set -- he'd have to do it all over again.
until it was right.
of course, it'd get messy all over again with time, & eventually the braid falls apart on its own, & he goes through the same song & dance. it's truly, very time consuming.
but, at the same time, he can't bring himself to cut it. he's not sure why. it just feels . . . wrong. he's stopped thinking about it.
so, when sheik, his light in the dark, offered to take care of it for him today before they settled down to sleep, link of course . . . only took a few moments to think about it. ( normally, the answer to anyone else is a quick, precise no. )
it felt wrong to let anyone take this on, when it should be his responsibility -- but the look in sheiks eye, the way he looked at the hero . . .
he couldn't say no.
so here he sits, sheik behind him ( humming something link doesn't recognize ) as he braids long strands together the way the knight likes. he doesn't pull, or tug, or yank. hands pet & nails scratch his scalp on occasion, still ever gentle & soothing. it draws out a pleased hum from the normally silent man.
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"You see, there's a logical reason for me to climb a wall rather than using the door--" Sheik pauses, taking a moment to readjust shirt and tunic. "It's better that Impa not see me for... Say the rest of today. Maybe tomorrow too."
-----
PERHAPS IT WASN'T just a fluke, then. or it was some sort of strange enticement that all youth had ; some fantastical urge to clamber up anything that was larger than they. distant memories of lizalfos && dinolfos, pestering brood-mothers && any elder cousin to be lifted up come to mind, as he watches sheik collect himself.
heavens above know that volga himself had indulged one or two in a particularly good mood. once upon a time, in his youth back when he first discovered the caverns.
although he had thought hylian children ( sheik isn't a child, he reminds himself ) were absent of such desires ;; had chalked it up to animal instincts, bestial && inherent in the hatchlings around him.
that still leaves volga absolutely baffled by sheik casually climbing up stone walls. he tries not to let it on, at least, a mere raised brow && emerald eyes looking over sheik -- habit, really, to inspect for damage -- && a simple shrug.
"I won't help you if she finds you shirking responsibility."
They knew this would happen, didn't they? Things would be fixed, and he'd have to return to his own Era-- an Era that shouldn't exist as it was; a ripple in the lake of time. Still, even Sheik can admit he'd hoped he wouldn't-- that perhaps they could defy it, but he feels the call worse now; his task, his job, is done, and he has to return home.
A more courageous man might've braved the upset that this ould entail, would have the strength to look loved one in the eyes as he parted-- but Sheik was not; he was a wise man, and he knew Link wouldn't let him go so easily.
'i'll remember you, love.' is all the note says-- he doesn't bother to sign it.
it'll be easier this way, he thinks.
they say the goddess gives, & gives, & gives all she can. they say her love, ever lasting, reaches them all, that she sees their struggles even in the dark times & she weeps for them, sends a hero for them.
that was his purpose. his one, singular purpose. to be the hero that everyone needed in their time of need, to fight great evil & deliver them from that darkness they were thrust into, sword in hand the proof of his status of champion. like the others before him. the others after him.
he’s not sure when it was, when he accepted this bleak thing ; that he was nothing more than a weapon, meant to fight & kill & save, to follow orders & remain by holy incarnations side, the other piece to this puzzle. maybe it was when he lost his arm, when he swore he could hear the demons laughter ringing in his ears, synchronizing with his scream ; maybe it was when he saw the flawless, unchanging face of the spirit, who he swore in his time of disillusion -- & still to this day, a little bit -- held something like disappointment.
disappointment that this hero was nothing like the others.
the ones before, the ones after.
no, he was a failure. a killer, with more than just demon blood on his hands.
maybe it was when he returned with less than half of the soldiers he had before setting out on that mission, to the land in the sky. when he saw the look on everyone’s face, how they didn’t see him. they didn’t even see a hero, anymore.
no, what they saw was a failure of a hero. be a hero worthy of wearing this tunic. she told him. they all had high hopes for him. he had high hopes.
it was all so bleak, so grey & so unfeeling. a depression, deep & painful, that wrapped itself around his body like a blanket, weighed his heavy bones. link threw himself into the only thing he could ; war. the missing limb did little to get in his way, though it did it’s damned best to, & there were times he wanted to give up & hide away from it all, damn his legacy & the legends.
yet, he never did.
he forced his way through the brush of self - hatred, forced himself to learn how to fight again. that’s all he expected. to continue fighting in this war he jumped into on that bright, sunny day, when he met the dragon & became the hero.
that’s all he wanted. to keep fighting.
he never wanted to fall in love.
they began as something distant & uninvolved, sparring here & there. link wanted to learn to use his right arm in battle, effectively, & he-- he was there. sheik inserted himself, much to the chagrin of the hero, but he wasn’t one to voice his complaints -- no one’s ever heard him complain.
then, they became something like rivals. seeking each other out for one reason or another to goad the other on, to bump into, to spar & annoy. there have been times then, that he found himself almost smiling, almost looking forward to the times he saw white hair & a challenging eye, the jabs the other man threw at him that he shook off with a breath that sounded more like a laugh then a sigh.
then, somewhere along the way, they started occupying each others space more casually. more softly, if not with an edge of uncertainty &, perhaps, something like fear. a fear of vulnerability.
sheik was the first thing link thought of when he woke up that day; sheik was the only thing he thought of as he prepared himself for the upcoming battle; sheik was the only thing he thought about as he took to the battlefield against the king; sheik was the last thing he thought of when he saw blood smeared blades in the hands of the man he’s always destined to hate; sheik was the last thing he saw before his vision blacked out from blood loss, death all but certain for the man that was supposed to be a hero.
he didn’t think of sheik when he woke up. he didn’t think of sheik when he saw the metal arm to his left, the bandages wrapped around his chest & torso, or when zelda explained that, by all accounts, he should be dead. that it was a miracle he survived.
he hates that word.
he didn’t see sheik for days after that, refusing to see anyone. refusing to do anything. refusing to live. he failed, again, yet here he was. again. a sick, twisted cycle.
at one point, in the dead of night, he vaguely remembers sneaking out of his tent, unbeknownst to everyone -- everyone, except of course sheik. he’d always catch link sneaking off somewhere when he tried, saying you can’t hide from a sheikah, or something. he at least waited until link had settled by a river, blank eyes staring at the water as it peacefully ran past him.
link remembers the last time he cried as a child, when the local bullies had broken a statuette he was particularly fond of. ever since then, he hadn’t cried, he assumed he finally cried himself empty of sorrow. until that night when sheik found him. he thought, after that, sheik would leave him, realize he’s not the strong hero he was supposed to be, or acted as.
. . . but, he stayed. & it was then that he couldn’t deny it. despite his efforts to stay away from everyone & push them away, link had fallen helplessly in love. it was a scary feeling. but like with everything else, he shared it with sheik.
he always knew, in the back of his mind, that sheik would eventually leave. he selfishly prayed that sheik would stay there, stay with him, but he knew like everything else, his pleas wouldn’t be heard. the goddess never answered him before, why now? why, when he finds something in this life that makes him truly happy, that makes him laugh?
somehow, this doesn’t feel like the first time he’s lost something so precious.
something in his gut tells him something he doesn’t understand, as he stares at the note grasped between metal fingers. if you can leave, why can’t everyone else?
he doesn’t understand it. but he knows the sinking, heavy, sickening feeling in his gut all the same. sheik was no longer needed in this era, & he had to return to his own, just like everyone else. no matter how much he was wanted, he had to go.
& just like that, with a simple note & quiet afternoon, link was alone. again.
late nights & too early mornings.
they were no less than the norm for the traveling pair of royal blood & disgraceful hero, be it in a small, one bed stable room or a makeshift tent in the middle of the woods. awake past the hours when the moon is overhead in the sky, rising moments before or after the sun peeks over the horizon.
the lazier, more quiet mornings where they sleep in are much, much rarer. it’s a matter of trusting the area they’re in, the people around them, & most importantly -- that their minds won’t turn on them. sleep was difficult, for more reasons than each of them can count.
& on this morning, they’re given the chance to choose. they’re both exhausted, & sheik makes the first move to get up, getting as far as sitting up in their shared rented-for-the-night bed. only for the soldier to grab his partners wrist & unceremoniously pull him right back onto the uncomfortable bed.
link rarely likes to sit still, but his body refuses to get up, & already misses the warmth that was supplied by the sheikah. his arm wraps around his lovers middle & pressed against the smaller man, enough to nose into sheik’s blond hair. a mumble, incomprehensible & thick with drowsiness.
