You can call me Violet, i go by they/them, I am a legal adult✨️✨️✨️, and welcome to my little space on the Internet :)
I usually just reblog stuff I think is pretty cool and deserve more love and attention from other people.
Fandoms I'm in include: Legend of Zelda, Linked Universe, Ninjago, Alien Stage, Umamusume, Lego Monkie Kid, Rise of the TMNT, Sky: Children of the Light, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Heartopia and possibly more but I don't remember all of them rn 🥲
Also, rest in peace to my other blog Violet Wolfe that I accidentally deleted on the night of The Late Late Toy Show. (2020-2023)
(I thought I was deleting a sideblog. I was sorely mistaken 😭)
anon:
- Hey so everyone BUT legend and reader got out of the dungeon
- do you think they're okay?
penny:
- ledge is here. idk where reader is
- i'll txt with updates
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — legend x reader
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 — h/nc, angst, implied major character death, loss of limbs, reader's legs get crushed, no pronouns used for reader,
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — part of my 100 followers event!
"Holding your hand we will be asking for more legend angst. I like seeing my favorites bloodied and bruised <3"
"y'all are crazy," i say, as if i didn't enjoy writing this.
The dungeon had turned into a wreckage.
A mistake or misstep? Was it avoidable? Maybe it was one of those dungeons that were designed to collapse after completion. You had some experiences with those ones. This one must've decided that enough people had left when it decided to self-destruct.
Every time you stepped into a dungeon, there was always some buzzing excitement, wondering what treasures there were to uncover. But there was also a small whisper in the back of your head—in the back of everyone's heads—that this could be the dungeon they never leave.
And you knew. You knew that you would not be leaving this one.
The blocked exit ahead mocked you.
You felt cold, and everything hurt. The adrenaline was starting to leave.
Dust floated everywhere, and clung onto every surface it could find. Every breath burned, and every exhale was a raspy whine or groan. None of it compared to the pain of your legs being crushed. A column falling in just the wrong direction, and moving just a little to slow you guessed.
You wanted to hope otherwise, but logic told you that this was it. There would be no walking after this—no potion, magic, or fairy could fix this in time. And if by some miracle you got out from beneath the column, the absence of its pressure would make you bleed out.
A horrid feeling of acceptance and panic filled your stomach.
This was it for me, but not for him. Not if I could help it.
You used what little strength you had to lift your head and look at Legend.
A barely audible groan left his throat as he tried to move, weakly getting on his hands and knees. He had hit head and probably had a concussion. If that's all it was, there was still hope for him. A sprinkling of dust from the ceiling above him caught your attention, and your eyes widened in panic.
"Legend!" you yelled. Talking was excruciating. Your throat hurt like a bitch, and you wanted to stop. But the fear that he might die was far greater. "Legend, run!"
Legend was clearly dazed and out of it, but his senses seemed to sharpen in an instant at your words. His eyes flew open, looking at where your gaze was directed and rolling out of the way in the nick of time.
Your head fell back to the ground as the falling rubble made a crater in the floor instead of him. A sigh of relief left you, but it quickly turned into a violent coughing fit. You blearily caught sight of blood splattering on the ground; the wetness on your lips was not from saliva.
Would the dust kill you first? You never knew that could happen.
"Are you alright?" you whispered.
You tried looking at him again, shifting your neck just a little. He groaned, getting up once more. Legend seemed to have lost his sense of direction yet again, looking everywhere except you. When his eyes finally found you again, the blood drained from his face, turning him a deathly pale.
Legend shakily called your name out, coughing from the dust.
"Oh fucking hell," he cursed.
You let out a pained whimper at his words.
This was the first you'd heard him speak with a tone like that—weak and full of fear. It felt like a death sentence.
The fear crept into your heart like a dagger being pushed in slowly. You were going to die here, trapped and unable to move. Not in battle, not protecting anyone, not from old age, or in the comfort of home. You were going to die trapped in a dungeon.
I don't want to die, you thought. I don't want to die here. I don't want to die like this. Tears began to stream down your face. You were a little grateful for the tears; the post nasal drip soothed the ache in your throat.
Legend stumbled next to you and collapsed, gripping your hand tightly. You sobbed at his touch, pulling it closer to you as if he was the only thing tethering you the world right now. It might be.
You felt dizzy and fatigued. Was it the blood loss? Maybe it was exhaustion—the dungeon had been tiring. It didn't matter. You would be dead either way.
"D-don't move," Legend whispered. "I'm gonna get you out of here."
My corpse, perhaps. But my last moments will be here.
Legend glanced down as something dripped onto your arm—a tear amidst the dust that covered every inch around them. He hadn't noticed he was crying too. It was an unwelcome warmth, a stark contrast to the cold that seeped into your body.
"Go," you said. "I can't move."
"I'm not leaving you!" Legend frantically retrieved the Titan's Mitt and braced his hands against the column on top of you. "I'm not leaving you."
He pushed as hard as he could, and you screamed in pain as the structure shifted. Startled, he backed off for an instant, but your screams only worsened as it shifted back into place.
"Stop!" you screeched. "Please! Stop, Legend!"
"I'm sorry!" He fell to his knees again, grasping onto your shoulder, your hand, holding on to any part of you he could reach. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Legend apologized, for more than just the pain he had caused you now.
Another violent fit of coughs forced its way out of you, and Legend watched in horror as more blood splattered the dusty floor in front of you.
The dizziness felt worse, or maybe the exhaustion was settling in.
Everything thrummed in pain. You wanted to close your eyes and sleep the pain away. But you knew you wouldn't be waking up again. A rumble echoed through the dungeon.
"Save yourself," you whispered. "This place is gonna collapse."
"I can't just leave you behind," he trembled.
"Do it anyways!"
Your eyes clenched shut in frustration. He didn't need to die too! Legend had to go. He had to get out of here soon.
"Go," you repeated, softly now. "Go and get Hyrule, or a fairy. I'm going to die if you move the column."
Legend sobbed again, grinding his teeth in frustration. You both knew the cold truth.
Hyrule couldn't help you. A fairy or potion wouldn't work either. If the column moved, you died. If he left the dungeon and it collapsed, you died. If he tried to do anything, you died. If he stayed and did nothing, you both died.
Your eyes cracked open a little, barely seeing him through the dust and tears. Your breaths felt slower, and the weight of your eyelids grew heavy.
"Don't go to sleep," he said, voice quivering. This was it. "I'm going to come back soon, okay?"
More tears streamed down your face, a small hiccup leaving you. He wasn't coming back. The dungeon won't let him. If it would, then the others would also be here. You squeezed his hand tight, clinging onto the last bit of his warmth before he left.
"Okay," you answered.
Legend faltered, and lent down to press a kiss into your dust-coated hair. "I'm coming back."
He tried pulling his hand from yours, but you didn't let go. I don't want to die alone. Don't leave me alone, please. The both of you sobbed, and he pressed another kiss to your forehead. It was warm and left you feeling colder in its wake. Legend weakly tried pulling his hand again. You can't die here too. I can't keep you here. You didn't resist.
"I'm coming back."
You watched as he left, running to the exit and moving debris aside with his gauntlet. Your sobs grew heavier as he got farther and farther away. Don't leave me! you wanted to cry. Legend, please! Come back!
He disappeared through the exit, leaving you completely and utterly alone. The crying left you feeling even weaker, and in the loneliness of the dungeon, you allowed your eyes to close. Another rumble echoed, and a final sob left you as rubble began to rain down once more.
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the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be a part of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
there will never be anything as funny as the mutual disbelief between long form and short form fic writers about each other's style.
short form writers look at people writing 100k+ fics as though this is some sort of talent given as part of a fae bargain, that the commitment required shows some sort of ungodly mental fortitude.
meanwhile long form writers look at people writing 1000 word one shots like god I would cut off my left nipple to be able to say anything concisely. i would love to play with multiple ideas. free me from the shackles of this child I have birthed. i love them but I now must take them to t-ball and doctor's appointments and they're going to destroy everything I own.
One of the secrets of writing is every short story is a section of a longer story we never see, and every long story is a series of short stories which give each other context and coherency. Practicing either of them will help you improve at the other.
Knowing this does not make it any easier to learn one when you're used to doing the other.
when i was a little kid (age 8 and on) i had 3 veryyy intense special interests i constantly infodumped about to anyone who gave me the time of day. these were:
The Bubonic Plague
Vampire Folklore
Tree frogs.
So as you can imagine my mom spent many years prepping me for social outings by doing a call-and-response litany with me that went "let's focus on tree frogs tonight. let's tell people about tree frogs."
"Vanderhorst had been under the influence of MDMA and three litres of vodka she had consumed on the night of the offence last September, her lawyer Michael Hill told the court."
i do also feel the need to add that phil8248 really liked the joke. he said his wife had always had a dark sense of humour, even about her illness and death, and seeing the joke made him feel like he was laughing with her one last time.
genuinely asking for people to be normal about japan at this point. ive gotten anons calling japan "immune from orientalism" because it was an imperalist empire, people talking about how it'd be referred to as the "anime pedophile" country, the "unglazing japan" videos, whatever. then there's the "japan is so utopian and revolutionary for xyz quirky fun fact!" bullshit or the "thing, japan" which people basically use to be sinophobic. i'm so tired. can we GENUINELY just treat it like a normal country
Here's a post 'A life to love' ending scene i've wanted to paint ever since i finished the game.
I picked Verso's ending because it seemed like a pragmatic choice if you only take into consideration the Dessendre and their relationship with the canvas and their grief. But as i kept thinking about it i ended up thinking about Maellicia and how I'd feel if i were in her place.
She got to live another life, free from the pain and expectations, where she found her people and a sense of belonging, I can't blame her for not wanting to let go, especially since her life as Maelle is as real to her as her life as Alicia. The way Verso's ending rips it all away from her makes me realize she ends up with more things to grief, another life and another brother.
While i do think facing your grief is the right path to take, being forced to do so that violently, and losing even more things in the process must've been heartbreaking, i can't imagine her getting over it so easily...
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If you want to, and are able to, please consider supporting my work through kofi or by getting a print, i'd appreciate it a lot!
that poll going around of the guy who thought "people only eat tofu as a bit because they're deranged vegans" or whatever really crystalizes something that i have never been able to precisely say - which is "a nonzero fraction of people who start picky-eater discourse just happen to precisely hate those foods which are not from north america and refuse to introspect on this whatsoever"
In contrast some people say "there aren't any picky eaters in Asia 🙄" but this is laughably untrue. I have a cousin in India who refused until his 20s to eat anything in a sauce. as you can imagine in India this was difficult. he basically had to pick things out of curry and wipe them dry
