Dink x Reader - Reader Meets Dink
I've been thinking about reader inserts as a whole lately, and realized that, usually, reader has no reason to be there. Why are they tagging along if they're not a chosen hero? I think it would confuse Dinky boy a great deal :) Word Count: 1654
You weren’t a hero. You never pretended to be one. You weren’t a reincarnation of a hero from legends. You weren’t the descendent of a deity. You didn’t grow up surrounded by magic and mystery and expectations. You were just… you.
Thinking back, you knew it was never supposed to be this way. You had had your fun, traveling with the chain. Helping them on some grand adventure to… defeat evil? You had never been told exactly what it was they were hunting. Or being hunted by. You had pictured it as something akin to the Ganons of legend, huge hulking beasts with a mind warped by evil, until he was little more than the monster he looked like. Or maybe it was a wicked sorcerer, like the much, much older legends, determined to bring the world under his rule.
You never imagined the boy before you.
You had been in a dungeon with the chain. He had appeared, changing shape faster than you could track. Time had seemed to recognize him. You still remembered the way Twilight had flinched away from one of the monsters’ many attacks. The battle was hard. Too hard. Too crowded in the tight dungeon room. Not enough space to fight. Not enough space to hide.
You had been hit first. You weren’t a hero. You didn’t have years of adventuring experience. You still aren’t sure what that shadow boy had turned into, but it had a lot of momentum behind it. You don’t even remember being hit–just waking up on the floor a few minutes later.
You struggle to get up, your head spinning and lunch threatening to crawl back up your throat. You swallow, staying on your hands and knees as you try to make the room stop spinning.
“Well, look who’s up,” a sing-songy voice echoes through the room. “Did you have a pleasant nap?”
You look up, and you recognize him, somewhat. You’ve seen his face before, in any case, but you can’t seem to recall where. Maybe it was the definite concussion you had, but you had a huch it had more to do with the fact that his form didn’t seem the most… solid. He looked less like a person and more like the impression of a person, similar to a reflection on a lake.
“Why…” your voice is shaky, throat dry. “...Why do you look like a Link…?” He smiles when you ask, the area you suppose to be his mouth cracking open into a wide grin. It might have been cute, if it weren’t for the glowing red eyes and sinister chuckle.
“Why, I am a Link! In a matter of speaking,” he stepped over a mass of fabric that you realized was an unconscious Sky, then squatted next to another of the fallen heroes. Please, please don’t be dead, you thought. The dark Link grabbed the hero by the hair, yanking his face up into your view. It was Time. “Don’t you see the resemblance?”
“Please don’t tell me your Twi’s evil cousin or something,” you groan, trying to sound annoyed, unbothered, anything, but your thoughts were racing. Aren’t Links supposed to be heroes? Why was this one evil? And shadow-y?
“Goddesses, no,” the dark Link giggled. “I’m more of a reflection. Don’t tell me the old man never mentioned me!” He pretends to pout, releasing Time’s hair. You hear the crack of nose hitting stone, and cringe.
“He doesn’t talk about his adventures much,” you try to pull yourself up into a standing position, but your knees give out half-way, and you land on your butt back on the floor. Your hand hits something warm and wet, and you tell yourself it’s just water. You make the mistake of looking down, and trace the red stain across the floor to Wild, slumped across the floor.
Nope. Focus. You tear your eyes away from your fallen friend, forcing yourself to keep your eyes on the enemy. They aren’t dead, you tell yourself, over and over. You hope you’re right.
“Well, you know how it is,” the evil Link shrugs. “Good and evil, opposite forces, blah, blah, blah. I exist as a counter to the heroes of light. I’m their opposite. Well, his opposite.” He points down at Time, who is still face-down on the ground.
You were so going to question the old man if when he woke up.
“So that’s why you look like a teen going through his emo phase?” you ask. His mask slips for just a moment, his chipper smile momentarily morphing into a grimace before disappearing.
“I’m everything evil about your precious heroes made flesh,” he grins. “Which brings me to a very interesting question: you’re not a hero.”
“That’s a statement, actually,” you correct. Another flicker of annoyance crosses his face, but he otherwise ignores you.
“So what, pray tell, are you doing here?” you blink and he’s closed the distance between the two of you, leaning over you like a cat that just cornered a mouse. He’s having fun with this.
“Uhh, we’ve been following you, my guy,” you raise your eyebrow. “Or did you miss the giant glowy portals?”
“No, what are you doing here?” he asks again, leaning in closer.
“I’m… helping,” you look away from him, eyes glancing around the room in an attempt to find anything you could use to fight him. Slowly, a plan forms in your head.
“Some help you are,” he laughs motioning around the room at the nine heroes sprawled across the floor. “What are you getting out of this? Because I’ve been keeping an eye on you lot. So far you’ve gotten beaten up more often than anything else. Add to that some… personalities,” he steps away, nudging Legend’s mass of pink-ish hair with the toe of his boot. The unconscious hero groans softly. “And I can guarantee this trip is far from pleasant for you.”
“So?” you scoot backwards while the dark Link’s back is turned, fingers closing around an engraved handle. You really need to come up with a better name for this guy. Emo Link? MCR Link? Dark Link? Wait. Dark Link. Dink. That was kind of hilarious, considering he was stick-thin and a full head shorter than most of the group.
“You aren’t a hero,” Dink explains “You don’t have the hero’s spirit or even the blessing of Hylia as far as I can tell. You don’t have any magic to speak of and your sword form could use… considerable work.”
“So, according to you, these nine are heroes because… what? Divine ordinance?” you frown.
“Now you’re getting it!” he clasps his hands together.
“And I assume you’re evil because you think the same thing applies to you,” you keep one hand held behind your back as you speak.
“Well of course. Good beats evil, evil comes back stronger. And you,” he points, “Don’t fit into the story.”
“Aw, sure. Let me just pack up my bags and leave my friends in a dungeon with some shape-shifting monster,” you say it sarcastically, but he nods.
“Yes, leave,” he steps to the side, revealing the door out. “Your presence isn’t part of my plan. You can leave now, and I won’t kill you.”
“I’m not doing that,” you narrow your eyes at him.
“Why not? Leave the hero work to the heroes.”
“You seem to think that just because someone is born one way, that’s all they can ever be. Heroes are heroes because they’ve been chosen. You’re evil because you have to be their opposite,” you stand up as you speak, the vertigo finally gone. For the most part. The first few steps still feel quite wobbly.
“Well, yes,” he says it like it’s obvious. Like you’re stupid for questioning it. Who knows? Maybe you are.
“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you edge your way around the room, hands held behind your back in a not-at-all-suspicios way. You need a better angle. “I think that people choose to be good. That some people will see evil and fight it not because they need to, but because they want to.”
“That’s… incredibly sentimental.” the dark Link blinks. “And so, so stupid.”
“Maybe, but I’m going to try anyway,” you smile. “NOW EAT THIS SUCKA!”
You bring Wild’s slate out from behind your back, pressing the rune shaped like a lock. Chains extend outward, freezing the monster wearing a Link’s face in place. At the same time, you reach into your pouch, grabbing as many glass bottles from inside with one hand as you can manage, and chuck them into the ground. The fairies inside scatter, flitting around the Links on the floor. One even circles around your head before departing.
The rune doesn’t last long. Dink breaks free almost immediately.
“That was a mistake,” he growls, glancing around at the chain, all of whom seem to be getting up. “I guess you’re too stupid to take the obvious out. If you’re so determined to be a hero, enjoy dying like one.”
He melts away, his form rippling like disturbed water before vanishing. You stare at the spot for a long time before you turn to look at Time. He’s standing now, blood pouring out of his nose and dripping down his chin. The other Links are beginning to chatter, but he stays silent, meeting your gaze after a few moments of crushing silence.
“Old man, you’ve got issues if that was your reflection,” you try to play it off like a joke. Like you weren’t just traumatized. Like you weren’t looking at Time completely differently.
“Tell me about it,” he sighs, wiping at the blood under his nose.
You would press him more on this later, you decided. Right now, there were wounds to tend to and people to console. You weren’t a hero. You never pretended to be one. But you could help. And that was heroic enough.
