I finally made a fancy masterpost like all the cool kids have!
Brothers’ Blood
Fandom: Linked Universe
When a Yiga clan ambush leaves Legend seriously wounded and Wild missing, the Chain sets out on a desperate quest to rescue their lost member before it's too late.
When Galadriel finds the aftermath of a battle where orcs killed a group of Doriath's warriors, she sets out to avenge them. Soon, though, she finds that the orcs also took a prisoner.
Contents: Torture, rescue, injury, violence
The Mad King
When Lord Ned of Wildgarde is arrested and charged with treason, his younger brother Diccon is left to fight for his own life and freedom while Ned tries to convince his captors of their innocence.
Contents: Captivity, torture, underage whumpee (17), fear for loved one
They had been careful. The labyrinth was deep and complex, but clearly well-built, the brick walls still mostly secure. They'd stayed away from anything that looked even slightly unstable, and by strict instruction bombs were forbidden. The monsters they encountered were no challenge, not even infected, and soon all of them were starting to have a good time, even Wild and Warriors, both of whom were still unaccustomed to this sort of thing.
When they came out into a particularly large hall with a vaulted roof that rose out of the range of their torches, lanterns, and candles, they had started to relax and spread out a little to explore and search for the doorways that would lead out. The ground looked like solid rock underfoot, the vault had clearly been well-built, and it seemed far safer than many environments they walked into. Talking softly, they split into groups, some poking about under mouldering wooden wreckage to check for rupees and salvageable materials, some looking more closely at the walls.
Then the first faint tremor had gone through the ground.
"Earthquake!" yelled Four, his voice echoing in the hall they were standing in. "Get under something stable and -" The rest of his instructions were drowned out by the noise as the entire labyrinth started to shake.
Time had time for a quick look around. Wind was closest to him, sprinting towards the wreckage by which he stood. Sky and Hyrule had darted into a doorway and Hyrule had curled into a ball on the ground while Sky braced himself against a timber upright. Wild and Warriors were visible by their torches across the hall. Twilight, Legend, and Four had just vanished into another doorway.
Then the ground went out from under him.
He slid sideways, crouching and raising his arms to cover his head. For a moment he was able to stay half upright, but then whatever he was standing on hit something else, shattered, and sent him tumbling and rolling down another passageway below the hall. He landed hard enough against a wall to knock the breath out of him. The ground was still shaking, he could still hear the uneven thundering of collapsing masonry, and he stayed curled up as stones bounced off his armor, coughing on sharp-edged dust, protecting his head. He had to protect his head. He wasn’t wearing a helmet. If he didn’t protect his head he would die.
The noise seemed to go on for an eternity, then at last it faded away into relative silence. Time uncurled slowly, blinking in the dark, still coughing from time to time. He could hear the occasional scrape and rattle of stones settling.
Nothing else.
No voices.
Nothing to indicate whether he might be the only survivor.
Four knew he should have been glad to be back in his own era, but too much had already gone wrong. For a start, they’d been separated as they came through the portal; he, Legend, and Twilight had found themselves alone. Fortunately, they had been near a small village with an inn and they had agreed that Twilight would scout around for any sign of the others while Four and Legend stayed put at the village and made enquiries there for any sign of other heroes or black-blooded monsters.
Then a massive rainstorm had rolled in. Four and Legend had ducked into the inn and hoped that either Twilight would soon arrive with the others or he - and they - had had the sense to go to ground until the storm passed.
As they sat in the common room, tucked into a shadowed corner, Four couldn’t quite shake the shiver under his skin. Perhaps it was that he had grown unaccustomed to not being surrounded by the noise and bustle of his brothers and when they were separated it was usually because they were in danger. Perhaps it was just that although they were in his era they were a few days’ journey from Castletown and home: so near and yet so far, with the possibility he’d not make it back before another portal appeared. Whatever it was, the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end and he couldn’t help looking around, straining his ears for any sign of threat.
Then he caught a scrap of conversation from the next table.
“- sure that’s him?”
“Sure. I was in the castle that day, I’d know him anywhere.”
Four hadn’t thought the chill down his neck could get colder. He stopped looking around, not wanting to make it clear he’d overheard anything. He couldn’t quite make out the tone of the murmured words, but he didn’t really need to. While there had been plenty of confusion around the attack on the castle and most people knew some approximation of what had happened even if it was just that there had been a case of mistaken identity, there were still a few who thought he was some kind of demon in disguise, waiting for an opportunity to attack again.
He shivered again, his skin crawling as he resisted the temptation to look round. He wanted to leave, but he could hear the rain hammering down outside. He couldn’t drag Legend out in that just because of an uncomfortable feeling and a half-overheard scrap of conversation.
He took another sip of beer, trying to tamp down his anxiety. It tasted foul and he winced.
Legend chuckled. “It’s not great, is it?” he said.
Four forced a smile and busied himself with his drink again. It tasted sour and he only managed one more swallow before he had to put the mug down again.
He felt sick.
He looked around despite himself and saw the two men at the next table. They were staring at him, but when they saw him looking they quickly turned away to talk amongst themselves.
Four swallowed hard, a cold sweat spreading down his spine. His stomach was churning and his head spun for a moment as a cold sweat spread down his spine.
“Four, are you OK?” asked Legend, looking hard at him. “You don’t look so good.”
“I… don’t feel so good,” he admitted. He looked again at the beer. The sick, wobbly feeling was getting worse.
He’d never expected to have to ask if he could have been poisoned, but the question presented itself as suddenly and loudly as if it had been shouted in his ear. Sickness, dizziness, weakness… the sour taste of the beer…
“Four?” Legend pushed himself half back from the table.
“Get me out of here,” whispered Four. To the outhouse so he could try to vomit the poison back up. Just out of the room. To wherever Twilight had gotten to. He barely cared.
Legend snatched up their bags, put an arm around Four, and hauled him back out into the rain.
To everyone doing Fan Joy July started by @kikker-oma , I am very proud of you. No matter what your style and medium are, thank you for sending your appreciation to your favourite writers one artwork at a time.
To all the fan writers: whether your works got featured this year or in the past; whether you are hoping for an art gift and still waiting for one to arrive in the ping; and whether you write just for your own sanity or that of a few friends—your writing has been a gift to the community. Thank you for making the multitude of adventures come true.
You all deserve to be appreciated and celebrated- artists and writers alike! For anyone hoping for a gift and maybe doesn’t get it this year, don’t think that your medium isn’t “good enough” because that definitely isn’t the case😤
You all are an integral part of the fandom and community and you all are celebrated during this month ❤️❤️
And here’s “flower” from me, use it however you like including verb vs. noun for whatever you like idc bro (gender neutral)
~ SCP-42605
(Comes after this Lost fic)
...
Zelda looked out at the gardens she often frequented with Link, watching the sun rise in silence.
Impa had told her to get some rest, but when she’d tried, she’d slept fitfully, her dreams unsettling and dark. Her blankets were too hot, her skin too cold, Sir Rowan’s words ringing in her ears, and Zelda finally couldn’t take it any longer. She’d come out here to try and get some peace, and while the sight of the garden did make her feel somewhat better, it didn’t soothe the storm that was her thoughts at the moment.
Birds chirped in the trees lining the path, and Zelda rubbed her eyes, looking around at the blooming gardens.
The path was lined in delicate flowers with petals in all manner of colors, and small trees that were finishing their spring blooms. The wisteria vine had started to blossom, bright dashes of purple all along the trellis it was confined to, and she could smell its perfume from here. She’d often sit with Link under it when they took walks together, him watching the insects that would land on the petals, her laughing when bees mistook her dress for the flowers.
She still remembered the time a butterfly had landed on a colorful headband she’d been wearing, and Link had carefully gotten it to crawl on his finger so she could see it. She’d called him a bug whisperer, but he’d denied it, saying that horses were more his specialty.
And then a beetle had landed on his nose, and they’d both laughed, the rare sound from Link warming Zelda’s heart.
Her stomach twisted at the memory, and she wrapped her arms around herself, sitting down on the edge of a small fountain that wasn’t currently running. She really should go back inside and try to sleep more, but she knew she wouldn’t have any luck.
Though sitting out here thinking about Link wasn’t doing her any favors.
“Princess?”
Zelda looked up at the soft call, and turned to see Link’s father approach, his crutch rapping quietly against the pathway. He looked as if he’d had an equally restless night, dark circles under his eyes, the shadow of a beard on his chin. His dark hair could use a good comb as well, and his uniform was rumpled like he had slept in it.
“Sir Lucas,” she greeted in a whisper, and he drew beside her, a look in his eye that made her stomach turn.
He didn’t immediately speak, and he sat beside her in silence, watching as the first rays of dawn colored the gardens in an amber light.
“Your highness,” Lucas said quietly, and Zelda swallowed, knowing what was coming. “There have been rumors flying around ever since I returned last night, some realistic, some... rather fantastical. I know not all of them are true, but some of them must be, since the knights have not returned, and your council is in hysterics.”
He turned and looked her in the eye.
“What happened to my son?”
Zelda looked at her feet, her stomach twisting into knots. Lucas hadn’t been at the meeting earlier— he’d taken sone time to help train soldiers at an outpost, and only arrived back late last night. Late enough that he’d slipped Zelda’s mind. But he needed to be told. Link’s only living family deserved an explanation, but she wasn’t sure the words would come out.
“Please Princess,” Lucas said more quietly, and Zelda took in a steadying breath.
“Link... Link has been overtaken by darkness,” she whispered, hating how her throat tightened. No, I promised I wouldn’t cry anymore, stop that! “Sir Rowan returned yesterday alone and injured, and says he saw this happen. Somehow dark magic corrupted Link in the woods, and he turned on the knights he was with. He... he’s little more than a puppet for an unknown evil. That’s all we know.”
Lucas had gone pale as she’d spoken, and he leaned heavily on his crutch, his eyes weighty with shock and a bitter sort of acceptance, like he’d almost been expecting her response.
“Then... Link is...”
“I’m so sorry,” Zelda continued, forcing her voice not to shake. “I shouldn’t have sent him out based on nothing but a silly dream, I should have known the darkness I saw was planning something, and now Link is gone and so are most of our best knights, this... it’s all my fault.”
Her voice broke, but before she could fully break down, Lucas had set a hand on her shoulder, giving her a grieved look.
“Princess, there was no way you could have known,” he said softly. “You did what you could. And Link... Link was prepared to take any action necessary. He agreed this was important. You can’t blame yourself.”
“He’s my best friend and I sent him to die,” Zelda choked out, and Lucas took both her shoulders in his hands, looking her in the eye.
“Princess Zelda. You did not send Link to die. You had no idea of what was going to happen, and you were operating with what information you had,” he said firmly. “Was it wise to send all of our best knights? Perhaps not, but you were doing what you could with what you knew. You cannot blame yourself for this, your highness,” he finished softly. “That sort of thinking can kill you.”
Zelda wasn’t fully convinced, but she gave Lucas a small nod anyway, her whole body feeling weighed down.
“Now don’t tell me how the situation is hopeless. Tell me how we’re going to fix this, and get Link back,” he said, and Zelda shakily breathed in.
Sir Lucas was right. She needed to stop wallowing, and start acting like a princess.
Link needed her to.
“Impa is researching a lead right now. She didn’t say what it was, but she seemed hopeful,” Zelda said, locking her fingers in her lap to stop them from trembling. “She thinks we may be able to save Link, and stop this unknown darkness.”
Lucas had a hand on his chin, looking thoughtful. “If anyone would know of a way, it would be Lady Impa. I’ll have to see if she needs help. I’m sure she’ll find something.”
“I pray so,” Zelda whispered. “In the meantime, we’ve focused on preparing. The council insisted we post a squadron of soldiers outside the woods, just in case Link comes this way.”
Lucas stiffened. “What are they going to do if they find him?” he asked, and Zelda exhaled.
“They’re to use non-lethal force at all costs. But we have no idea what Link is capable of right now, and even then he’s the best sword fighter I’ve ever known, if he attacks... they might not be able to hold back.”
Lucas swallowed. “Perhaps he’ll remain in the woods. Regardless, I think that’s enough of such talk for now. You look exhausted, your highness. You should go back to bed.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Zelda murmured, and Lucas sighed.
“You should at least attempt to get some more rest. I have a feeling the days ahead are going to be trying for us all,” he said, looking at her. “You’ll need your strength, Princess.”
Zelda sighed, and looked one more time at the sunrise, then at the arbor where the wysteria climbed. “...Fine. But only for a little while.”
Lucas gave her a small smile. “That’s enough for me. Would you like an escort?”
“No, I’ll be fine, thank you,” Zelda said as she stood up, but she hesitated before she left, giving him a grateful look. “...Thank you, Sir Lucas. I’m... I’m so sorry about Link.”
“I know. Now thank me by getting some sleep, your highness,” he replied, and Zelda bid him farewell. Then she made her way back through the gardens and up to her room, her heavy heart just a smidge lighter.
Lucas watched her go, then hunched over himself, the horror that had been slowly building in his chest threatening to overwhelm him.
“Link,” he whispered. “Oh Link... Goddesses... keep him safe.”
*sobbing * Poor Zelda and poor Lucas! When he comforts her that's so cute and it's so sad when he goes to pieces a bit at the end, and I love that he goes to trying to talk her to finding a solution when she's kind of spiralling.
Cool Ways to Show a Character Is Traumatized (Without Saying "Traumatized"):
• They memorize where every exit is in a room
• They check their phone repeatedly after sending a message, worried they said the wrong thing
• They freeze when asked a simple question, like they’re calculating the safest answer
• They over-explain tiny mistakes before anyone reacts
• They clean up messes that aren’t theirs without being asked
• They listen for footsteps in hallways before relaxing
• They downplay their own pain with humor or sarcasm
• They check locks more than once before bed
• They leave shoes near the door, ready to leave quickly
• They wake up instantly at small sounds while others sleep through them
• They carry painkillers, snacks, or water everywhere “just in case.”
• They don’t like closed doors.
• They test people subtly to see if they'll leave
• They sit near walls or corners, rarely the center of a room.
• Loud noises don’t scare them anymore, they just go very still
• They apologize automatically, even when nothing went wrong
• Compliments make them visibly uncomfortable.
• They keep important things within arm’s reach at all times
• They watch people’s hands more than their faces
• They flinch at movements that aren’t threatening
• When someone raises their voice, they go quiet instead of arguing back
• They assume blame first, even when it makes no sense
• They’re surprised when someone keeps their promise
• They brace themselves before asking a favor
Zelda and Impa had been on the run for three days and according to Impa they would reach the village they were making for the next day. It was remote and the Sheikah scouts Impa had sent ahead had said that it seemed safe; the attackers had been there, but had simply passed through, announcing the name of the new king of Hyrule: Ganondorf.
Zelda knew the name; he was the king of a neighboring kingdom. They’d not had a good relationship, but nothing that had seemed to be leading to this.
She couldn’t think about that now. It sounded like the invaders had simply been and gone and this village would be a safe place for her to shelter, at least for a while.
Just one more day and they would be there.
The weather had soured over the previous day and now they were trudging along a muddy road in driving rain. Zelda kept her hood pulled close around her head, for all the good it did; the woolen fabric still had some warmth in it, even soaked through, but the same couldn’t be said for her dress and shoes and, warm though it was, the cloak was heavy and water was trickling from her soaked hair down her face.
She thought longingly of the possibility of a hot meal and a warm fire once they reached their destination.
“Almost there,” said Impa quietly. It was the first time she’d spoken in what seemed like hours. Zelda swallowed a cough and nodded. Impa pointed up the road ahead and said, “Around the next corner is a bridge over a ravine. We cross that and then it’s a few more miles.”
Not long ago Zelda would have considered that nowhere near ‘almost there’, but she just nodded again, mentally pushing back the thought of warmth and food. She could still dream of it, but it would be a while until that wish was granted.
Sure enough, they soon rounded the corner and Zelda saw the bridge up ahead. She sighed and tried to speed up. On the one hand, she knew she needed to save what strength she had left - it was going to be a long, muddy trudge up the slope she could see on the other side that Impa hadn’t mentioned - but getting past the next landmark still seemed like an achievement she wanted to reach.
Impa matched her pace until they reached the bridge, then held up a hand to tell her to wait. She instinctively obeyed, standing on the bank as Impa carefully crossed, testing each plank before putting her weight on it. It looked perfectly good to Zelda, but she knew better than to question what her guard was doing.
With a sigh, her thoughts went to her mother and brother. She hoped they were all right, wherever they were.
Impa was most of the way to the other side when her foot went through a plank. She fell hard, scrabbling at the next one, and Zelda instinctively sprang forward with a cry. Impa held up a hand to stop her and she hesitated, one foot already on the bridge, watching with her heart in her throat as the Shiekah pulled herself out of the hole and stumbled as far as the bank.
Then she heard something behind. It sounded like a horn call.
Impa had heard it too; she looked up from inspecting her injured leg.
“I’m coming across,” said Zelda.
“No, it’s -”
“The rest of the planks were fine,” said Zelda, already on the bridge, creeping along it carefully as Impa had done. “That sounded close.”
Impa must have agreed; she didn’t argue again, though she got up and reached out a hand to steady Zelda as she stepped over the broken plank.
Once she was close, Zelda saw that Impa’s leg was bleeding, though the blood was hard to see on her soaking-wet pants.
“Can you… walk on that?” she asked uncertainly.
“I have to,” said Impa, but when she took a step she stumbled. Zelda steadied her.
“Lean on me,” she said. She knew that there was no chance of stopping to properly treat the wound, not if their pursuers were indeed close behind. They had to at least get into the woods and find somewhere to hide. “Let me take care of you this time.”
Impa started to reply, but then hissed faintly on an indrawn breath through her teeth. “All right,” she said after a moment. “We get under cover. Then we can treat it properly.” She pointed off the road and Zelda walked in that direction, letting Impa lean on her and trying not to flinch as she heard another horn call behind them. She could only hope that their pursuers would fall right through the bridge if they tried to cross.
She longed to run, but Impa was having enough trouble walking. She had clearly badly torn her leg; Zelda had never seen her like this. But she was well enough to guide her towards a hollow where a fallen tree’s roots had torn out of the ground. Most of the tree was gone, presumably cut up and taken away by the villagers, but the roots were still there, providing a little shelter from the rain and hopefully stopping the hole from filling up too much with water. Zelda and Impa hunkered down into it, Zelda shivering. Though not flooded, the hole was muddy, and in her wet dress she was still bitterly cold.
But she tried not to think about that, instead looking at Impa’s leg. The sight of the shredded, bloody flesh almost made her throw up, but she swallowed hard, breathing shallowly. She’d not had much breakfast and was determined to hold onto what was still in her stomach.
Impa was also looking at her leg, far more composed than Zelda.
“Keep watch,” she said. “You look over towards the road. I’ll take care of this.”
They couldn’t see the road from where they were, especially in the heavy rain, but Zelda was inclined to stare out into the wet, empty forest anyway to avoid looking at Impa’s wound.
She pulled herself together with an effort. She couldn’t flinch away from things like this. Not any more. Even if it was never something she would be as comfortable with as Link was. She swallowed hard.
“I don’t really know what to do,” she said, “But I can still help.”
Impa looked consideringly at her, then nodded. “All right,” she said. “But tell me if you need to stop or if you feel yourself getting shaky. Otherwise you could make it worse.”
Zelda nodded, swallowing again, and forced herself to look at Impa’s leg again. As the rain ran down over the wound, it looked like there was a lot more blood. She told herself that that was all it was. It wasn’t as bad as it looked.
She knew she was lying, but it was easier than facing what she was actually looking at.
Impa quickly cut away the tattered rags where her trousers had been torn and took a bandage from her pack.
“At least the rain is washing it,” said Zelda, her voice a little high in her own ears.
Impa shook her head slightly. “Not as much as it needs,” she said, “But there’s nothing to be done about that here.”
Zelda shuddered.
“Are you all right?”
“Cold.” It was true. She felt like the cold water was running through her bones, not just over her skin.
Impa handed her a pad of cloth and told her, “Press that over the wound. Don’t worry, you won’t hurt me. I need you to keep it in place while I wrap it.”
Zelda breathed out slowly and did as she was told. She couldn’t imagine this wasn’t painful, but if it was, Impa didn’t give any sign of it as she slowly wrapped the bandage over the pad.
But when she was done she suddenly sagged with a sigh.
“Impa?” blurted Zelda.
“I’m all right,” said Impa. “But I was… well, it’s difficult to describe. But it does take some strength out of me.”
A Sheikah power of some kind, Zelda guessed. She glanced at her hands, saw blood on them, and quickly looked away. “I can keep watch if you want a nap,” she said.
Impa shook her head. “This is no place to rest,” she said. “We need to move on.”
Zelda didn’t argue, though she couldn’t help a nervous look towards the road. She’d not heard any sound of pursuit, but in this rain that didn’t mean anything.
As if reading her thoughts, Impa said, “We won’t go near the road. We’ll have to go across country and then find somewhere to hide while we make sure the village is still safe.”
Zelda nodded. “All right,” she said, mourning the possibility of a warm fire, a hot meal, and a dry bed for the night. It couldn’t be helped, she knew that, and she knew why they couldn’t take any risks.
They climbed out of the hole, but immediately Zelda could tell that Impa was struggling to walk properly. She offered her shoulder again and was even more worried when Impa leaned on her.
This was bad.
“How much further?” she asked.
“The route we’re taking, it’ll probably be a couple of miles.” Impa didn’t ask if Zelda thought she could manage it. That told her as clearly as words that there wasn’t a choice. She sighed and started walking.
***
She didn’t know how far they’d gone by the time Impa was stumbling, leaning on Zelda’s shoulder almost too heavily for her to bear. Zelda did her best, trying to keep walking and not make it clear how much she was struggling. When she glanced down, she could see that blood was soaking through the bandage. She wondered with a sick feeling how much blood Impa had lost.
At last, though, she couldn’t keep going. Her back felt like there were spikes going down her spine and her legs were wobbling. She stumbled to a halt.
“I can’t,” she said, her breath catching. “I can’t keep going.”
Impa hissed through her teeth and tried to take her own weight, but swayed and Zelda had to steady her again.
“I’m sorry, little one,” she said. “I hoped to be able to go further.”
“I’m not leaving you behind,” said Zelda, her voice rising to a squeak.
“No, no, that’s not what I mean,” said Impa, forcing a smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not that badly wounded. But…” She looked around. “All right, that bush over there will probably do.”
Zelda would accept anything at this point and they managed to stumble over to the bush Impa had indicated and creep under it. Zelda rubbed her wet sleeve across her wet face, only succeeding in smearing dirt around, and tried to work out how strong she felt. She was tired out. She was hungry. She was so, so cold.
Her eyes prickled with tears and she wiped them again.
But at least she wasn’t hurt. Impa probably still needed the rest more. And if she got a chance to sleep, perhaps she’d be better able to go on.
Impa had settled with her leg slightly elevated.
“You get some rest, Zelda,” she said.
Zelda shook her head. “No,” she said. “You sleep. Just for a bit. I’ll stay awake as long as I can and then wake you up.”
Impa narrowed her eyes at her. “No more than an hour,” she said. “I’ll wake myself then, but if you need to, wake me first.”
Zelda nodded, determined to try to stay awake even though she wanted nothing more than to curl up under a pile of blankets and never come out.
As soon as they’d made the agreement, Impa closed her eyes and her breathing steadied. Zelda propped her chin on her folded arms and stared out into the rain, feeling like warmth she didn’t even known she’d had left was seeping out of her into the ground, even as water dripped out of her clothes. She wondered how long it would take for the Sheikah scouts to find them, since they were nowhere near where they were expected. She wondered if the enemy had gone to the village and what might have happened.
She wondered where Link was.
She wondered if Impa would be all right and if there would be anything at the village they could use to heal her.
She wondered if she was ever going to feel warm and dry and safe again.
She sniffled and wiped her face again.
Then, suddenly, she saw a glowing light start to appear in front of her, hanging in the air. She startled and rubbed her eyes, wondering if she’d started to fall asleep, but the light was still there.
Slowly, it solidified into a glowing golden triangle.
It hung in front of her eyes for a moment and, shaking, not quite aware of what she was doing, she reached out a hand.
The glowing triangle sank into the skin of her hand, leaving a glowing triforce symbol on the back.
Zelda stared at it.
She knew what that had been.
She knew what it meant.
She couldn’t quite form the words even in her own mind.
Her breath shuddered in her chest with more than cold or exhaustion.
But trying to shove the truth away didn’t help. It didn’t change anything. No matter what she did, it still seeped its way into her thoughts as surely as the rainwater seeped through to her skin.
She had the Triforce of Wisdom.
The heirloom of the royal family, passed from mother to daughter down countless generations.
The only way it passed…
The only reason it would have come to her was that she was now queen.
Her mother was dead.
Another shudder went through her and the triforce symbol on her hand blurred with tears.
Her mother was dead.
Something deep inside Zelda that had been holding on for so long seemed to snap and tear out of her with a wail.
And then she was sobbing so hard it felt like she was going to tear herself apart.
Time had time for a quick look around. Wind was closest to him, sprinting towards the wreckage by which he stood. Sky and Hyrule had darted into a doorway and Hyrule had curled into a ball on the ground while Sky braced himself against a timber upright. Wild and Warriors were visible by their torches across the hall. Twilight, Legend, and Four had just vanished into another doorway.
How about cereal? Or, if that doesn’t get the creative juices flowing, maybe swim?
Hope you have fun (and get some rest! ❤️🫂)
- Nevermatch
”All right, this is ridiculous,” Twilight grumbled. “I can’t believe you’re even saying that.”
Wild huffed. “You’re the one being ridiculous. How can you be so picky about breakfast? There are literally so many options.”
Malon yawned as she entered the kitchen. “You two are in here awfully early. I thought you didn’t work?”
“We don’t,” Twilight answered with a polite smile. “Wild wanted to make some food if that’s fine.”
Malon huffed, amused. “Of course it’s okay, make whatever you like.”
“That’s the issue,” Wild said, gesturing at Twilight exasperatedly. “He doesn’t like anything I’m talking about! I’m telling you, he’s a lunatic.”
“I am not—”
Wild cut in, listing different things and tapping a different finger with each item. “He doesn’t like omelets, he doesn’t like boiled eggs, he doesn’t like pancakes or waffles, he doesn’t like bagels or sandwiches or jams or literally anything.”
Malon glanced at Twilight a moment, and he felt his cheeks flush, ire mixing with embarrassment. Then she leaned against the counter. “Honey, are you feeling okay? You just don’t have much of an appetite?”
Twilight swallowed, trying to avoid the matter. Wild was understandably upset - he used to sometimes make breakfast at the motel when they weren’t working (which was rare for them to both be off at the same time), and Twilight had eagerly eaten his food. Now that they had access to a real kitchen, Twilight was suddenly denying his friend the joy of making food for him.
But… Malon was right. Nothing sounded appealing, and Twilight had a suspicion it was because he just wasn’t hungry. And he hated not having an appetite, that had never been an issue, but ever since his surgery he’d struggled a little bit and really hadn’t eaten more than a meal a day for the last couple days.
But he couldn’t really admit that. He didn’t want to worry anyone. It was hard to hide it, though, in this house.
Twilight gave a noncommittal shrug.
“Toast,” Malon proposed. “With a little bit of peanut butter for some protein.”
Wild’s glare held enough scrutiny and judgment that Twilight was caught between laughing and cringing. He sighed, conceding. “Sure.”
Malon smiled, patting Twilight’s hand as it rested on the table, and moved to make some toast. Wild sighed, a little relieved, and then went to make his own breakfast.
The move to Lon Lon Ranch had been awkward, even a little embarrassing. Twilight didn’t like feeling like a charity case, and he already felt so incredibly vulnerable being freshly discharged from the hospital after his appendectomy. But he knew it was out of love, and he was comfortable here. There was also a certain degree of safety in literally living with the surgeon who had done the surgery, in case anything were to go wrong.
And mornings like this reminded him that it was needed.
I just saw one of those ads where a guy is like "Oh, I didn't know what to do for my wife for our anniversary, so I asked this AI machine and it planned out this incredible evening and picked out the perfect gift and all I had to do was click the links to book and buy."
I'm almost too aroace to function and this will never be an issue for me personally, but I would like to make it clear that I would consider this a divorcing offence. If you can't be bothered to pick a restaurant with your own human brain, I can't be bothered to be married to you.
Welcome to the 2026 Whumperless Whump Event, where we celebrate all kinds of situational, accidental and environmental whump! If this is your first time, welcome in--if you've been here before, thanks for coming back!
FAQ and text version under the cut!
Frequently Asked Questions:
Q: Where can I find the prompts list?
A: @whumperless-whump-event on Tumblr.
Q: How are the prompts divided?
A: Each day has a "title" or a vague theme, followed by two tropes and one dialogue prompt.
Q: Can I use the title as a prompt?
A: Absolutely.
Q: Do I have to use all of the prompts?
A: Not at all.
Q: Can I use all the prompts?
A: Absolutely.
Q: If I'm writing a chronological story, can I swap days to fit the timeline?
A: Yes, just make sure you tag your days and prompts appropriately. If you're writing for day 6, but you post it on day 12, tag day 6, not day 12.
Q: Can I have early or late entries?
A: Yes. This is a very laid back event, and meant mainly to inspire lots of whumperless whump. It's not a strict writing challenge.
Q: Is there an Ao3 collection?
A: Yes! This year's collection is linked here. The parent collection also includes 2024 and 2025--make sure you select 2026.
Q: Can I write [insert anything here]?
A: Yes. However, this blog will not reblog certain topics (ex. nsfw or suicide), so please tag your works appropriately, so anyone can filter out anything they don't want to see.
Q: Can I use AI?
A: No.
Q: Can a whumper be included in the prompt fill?
A: The short answer is no. The long answer is that you cannot have the role of whumper in your prompt fill (aka: no whumper-on-whumpee); however, if the character you want to be a whumpee or a caretaker happens to be a whumper, then as long as they are not fulfilling the role of whumper, it's fine. Also, if there is a whumper, it must be totally impersonal and faceless. Here are some examples for clarification:
A character's drink is spiked at a party.
OKAY: The whumper who spiked the drink is never mentioned and is completely faceless, and the story is directly about whumpee recovering.
NOT WHUMPERLESS: The whumper who spiked the drink kidnaps the whumpee.
A character is left alone in a storm.
OKAY: The character is stranded or lost.
NOT WHUMPERLESS: Whumper tied them to a post and left them in the storm.
A character is mugged on the street.
OKAY: The whumper is a stranger, faceless, and the focus is on Whumpee.
NOT WHUMPERLESS: The whumper is a stalker and there to kidnap Whumpee.
All in all, if your goal is to fulfill the event, then try to avoid a whumper. If you're using the prompts elsewhere, then ignore this, but in the spirit of the event, no whumper roles please.
Q: How do I tag my posts?
A: Tag with #whumperless whump event, #wwevent 2026 and #wwevent day [x](Don't just tag wwe, that's wresting.) Make sure to tag the fill type (art, fic, music, etc) with #fic, #art, #et cetera. Then, tag triggers and content warnings. Please put these first in the tag order! It just makes it easier to reblog.
Q: How do I get reblogged?
A: Mention this blog in your post! It's the easiest way for me to find you. Otherwise, I won't reblog it. (This also means if you do not want your post reblogged to the event, just don't mention the blog, and it'll stay private.)
Q: I disagree with something/have an issue with a prompt/want to address a problem. How should I do it?
A: Send me an ask and we can fix it. I am more than willing to work through any problems--I am human, and not without fault.
I think that's about it. That's a lot, so if you've got any other questions that aren't on the list, feel free to shoot me an ask. I'm happy to help!
Plain Text:
Like a Baby Seal to Water: Fishtailing / Near drowning / "I thought I was going to die."
Somebody's Gotta Do It: Unexpected caretaker / Touch starvation / "You don't have to hide from me."
A Lull in the Chaos: Bedside vigil / Checking vitals / "Can you… sing? Until I fall asleep?"
How Are You So Oblivious: Unknowingly feverish / Falling asleep at work / "Can you drink some water for me?"
Wilderness Experts: Poisoned / Caught in a trap / "I don't know where we are."
Down The Wrong Pipe: Choking / Seizures / "Call an ambulance, tell 'em they're not breathing."
Wrong Place, Wrong Time: Panic attack / Overstimulated / "Get me out of here."
Are You Sure This Is Normal: Natural disasters / Scared of thunder / "We're safe in here, okay? I think."
Dropping Like Flies: Multiple whumpees / Caretaking while sick or injured / "I'll get some rest soon, I promise."
A Warm Welcome: Coming home from the hospital / Cuddle piles / "You scared me so badly…"
Bodily Betrayal: Stomach sick / Carried to bed / "…Yeah. I can call in sick for you."
You Make Me Lose My Breath: Wheezing / Altitude sickness / "You're not making sense."
Waking In A Cold Sweat: Midnight hospital visit / Allergic reaction / "I thought you were getting better."
The Final Straw: Grief / Mental breakdown / "You don't need to be okay right now."
There is something kinda funny about the game with time travel and being sent back to the beginning of it all being remade multiple times. It’s almost like you’re living something that already happened... but nobody remembers... you’re the only one in the world who knows what’s going to happen...
I'm loving the discussions about the role and purpose of fandom, as well and what activities are needed to keep fandoms alive and flourishing!
However... as a fandom creator (writer and artist), I sometimes feel like too much pressure is concentrated on creators. I don't know if this is a frustration others share? Not only should we keep making things, but somehow we also end up becoming these central fandom figures who can feel pressured into responding to comments (or else we're called arrogant or ungrateful), making friends (or else we're rude for ignoring well-meaning people who reach out), and being the drivers and pillars of that community (running events, responding to memes, etc. – and everything falls silent if we stop). It's a lot of work!! I don't always have the time and energy to make things for fun and then also engage in all the ways people might sometimes feel entitled to because they enjoy my works.
I really wish that more "non-creating" fans in the community would discover their fandom power!! and not just rely on the visible "producing" creators to be the only people worth engaging with. It takes nothing more than passion to write a meta-post about a character or a plot point, or to create an ask game, or to DM someone else who you see posting funny tags – not just the creator! Maybe your followers have other tips for evening out the balance a little more?
Thank you for sharing your thoughts on this, anon. This is an observation I've seen in many parts of life, not just fandom.
A lot of people feel as though they need permission or an invitation of some sort in order to contribute. That's why I always end my answers by asking people to share their thoughts. I want to make it explicitly clear that I want people to add things into the reblogs (which I can then share out for more people to see) and the replies (which people can at least read even if I can't reblog).
I have heard fans who are readers but don't write fic say that they think they can't get an AO3 account unless they plan to post something. This is incorrect, of course, but a lot of people make that assumption.
I think at least some people (I don't know what kind of percentage) assume that someone who is writing fic or posting art or making podfics and video edits etc. has some sort of expertise that "allows" them to post.
People with less confidence or with less practice etc. sometimes need an extra nudge before they realize that they're welcome to contribute too. If that's the case for you, please allow me to say:
You are welcome to post in your fandom, even if no one invites you to. Even if you think you're not good enough. Even if your idea isn't "popular."
Start a conversation. Share a thought. Talk to folks who reblog cool shit. Be a folk who reblogs cool shit. You don't have to do everything in order to do something.
As mentioned above, please do share your thoughts in the reblogs and replies to keep the conversation going.
Record and post clips of your show to get more people into your fandom
Make incorrect quote memes
Make silly little TikTok-style edits of your favs
Make character playlists
Figure out the layout of buildings/cities
Recreate those building in the Sims or with an online floor planner or even just draw it out because holy hell writers will be so thankful for that
Make your blorbo in various video game character creations
Build a pokemon team for your blorbo
Make up silly headcanons! What does everyone do at the fair or the beach or during a fire drill?
Outline a fic idea you have — maybe you don’t have the time or energy or you just don’t feel confident enough to create it, but share it anyway!
Create outfits based on your blorbo’s design or outfits they would wear
There are so many ways you can engage with fandom that aren’t making fanart or writing fanfics. Fandom is community - Please don’t be afraid to join in!
(I've been on tumblr for 15 years, far longer than I was ever on twitter, but I've never engaged much beyond reblogging so please pardon how many times I reference fandom activities I witnessed on twitter)
Collect interviews with the author, producer, director, mangaka etc
Similarly, translate interviews
I remember someone in the haikyuu!! fandom kept a twt thread of every time two characters were in the same panel. Not sure what the tumblr equivalent would be. I guess just a regular old post with lots of additions? (Send help; i'm not sure why my brain is struggling so badly to translate twitter threads to tumblr posts)
Run a quote bot account: I'm not sure of the status of quote bots in a post twitter era, but those were quite fun. Again an example from the hq!! fandom, there was the hq!! bastille bot which would spit out a bastille lyric + a ship. The siken bot would spit out a line of poetry + a ship name. On tumblr maybe the equivalent would be a gimmick blog?
Run a ship/character week. I think these are probably the easiest kind of fandom event to run. it doesn't take more than one person, a blog, and rudimentary graphics skills.
Are socmed AUs still a thing?
Make gifs
Try to figure out the layers to a character's outfit and share your studies with the world. (I'm looking directly at you, Hoyoverse and all you're what-even-is-that how-do-they-even-put-that-on character design. beautiful, but confusing)
Update fandom wikis
Log fandom history on fanlore.org (another project run by the Organization for Transformative Works, aka the parent of ao3)
Volunteer for the Organization for Transformative Works/ao3
Fandom wikis!! One thousand blessings upon everyone who maintains fandom wikis, oh my god.
Some suggestions:
Transcribe episodes for film/audio canons
Podfic! We can always use more podfic, and most people's phones have a voice recorder.
Create bingo sheets (e.g. make a fanwork with five or more of these tropes for a bingo; read/reblog fanworks in five or more of these categories for a bingo)
Be a Your Blorbo expert consultant! If I'm writing about a character I don't have strong feelings about, but I know one of my friends is constantly reblogging and posting about them, even if it's all silly memes and "character <3"-type posting, I'll sometimes reach out to them for advice on if I'm getting Their Blorbo right. It's absolutely invaluable and I appreciate these people so much.
We are all just enthusiastic nerds on the internet. You have as much right to share your enthusiasm as anyone. One of the things I love about tumblr as a platform is that you can just start saying whatever about something you like, and you will find other people who like it too.
