how I think different members of the chain would sneeze because I’ve fully lost my mind
wild:
before the calamity, he was one of those people who suppress their sneezes, mainly so that he could stay silent. anyone who saw him sneeze would hear a small sound and see him violently jerk with the force of the sneeze, and that was just it.
post-calamity, though, he fully embraces his loud sneezing. rumor has it his sneeze is louder than the roar of a lynel, and flora once joked that he could defeat ganon by the sheer force of it. the chain hates it. every single one of them is put on edge by loud noises, so every time wild sneezes all eight of them have a flash of panic as they all reach for their weapons before they realize, ah. everything is fine. wild just got some dust in his nose.
they all hate it, but they don’t try and tell him to be quiet. he’s an unstoppable force that will not be silenced again
wind:
he screams “ACHOO” with every sneeze. he’s competing with wild to see who can do it the loudest, but so far wild’s still winning. wind’s isn’t a scary as wild’s is, because while wild’s is sudden and ear-shattering, everybody within a ten mile radius knows when wind’s about to sneeze because of the fact he goes “ah-ah-ah—ACHOOO” every time it happens. he does it on purpose because he thinks it’s funny, and is currently running in first place on the Most Obnoxious Sneeze list. he takes pride in his position.
time:
time is third on the Most Obnoxious Sneeze list, after wild and wind. he’s got one of those loud dad sneezes, and every time it happens he groans as if he’s shattered all his bones and says something along the lines of, “that was a doozy.” if he sneezes multiple times in one day he’ll start counting them, and every time he goes, “unbelievable. fourth sneeze of the day!” there are multiple groans from the chain. everyone thinks that’s just How He Is, but in reality he’s just being a little shit and takes great amusement in the fact they all think he’s some old man.
when they get to time’s hyrule, malon plays along, acting as if it’s just time’s old age catching up to him. in private, however, the both of them are in hysterics at how seriously the entire chain believes it all. they’re both little shits. will the chain ever know?
four:
he’s one of those people who sneezes about fifty times in one breath. the number of tiny, quick sneezes depends, but they’re always in intervals of four. sometimes it’s four sneezes at once. sometimes it’s eight. sometimes it’s sixteen. the chain’s impressed and a little concerned, and at one point legend makes a comment about how it sounds like he’s multiple people sneezing at once. four just laughs it off (perhaps a little too hard?).
legend:
bunny sneeze. that’s all. he’s got the tiniest, and quite honestly the cutest sneeze out of all of the chain. for the longest time he tried to hide it, because he knew exactly how they’d all react, but alas, one day it was a little too dusty in one of hyrule’s caves, and it had to happen eventually.
obviously the entire chain had to comment about it (read: make fun), and it only stopped when legend’s face became as pink as his hair. wind made some comment about how he was grateful legend wasn’t an annoying sneezer like the trio currently battling for the title of Most Obnoxious Sneeze, which resulted in a large argument about who was truly worthy for the title, which changed the topic quickly.
and if there are still a couple of muffled laughs every time legend sneezes, he guesses it is kind of funny. but only kind of.
sky:
he legitimately just sounds like he’s coughing. wheezing, even. nobody knows whether or not to say “bless you,” because they don’t know if he’s sneezed or if he’s just got something in his throat. sky thinks it’s funny and will say “no ‘bless you’?” after he coughs sometimes, just to be a little shit and confuse them. they all hate it, because how are they supposed to be polite if sky calls every sneeze a cough and every cough a sneeze?! sky thrives off of their distress. he is the original link, after all—where do you think the others got it from?
hyrule:
they have never heard him sneeze once in his life. he’s so incredibly quiet with it that everyone thoroughly believes he just can’t sneeze. maybe it’s a fairy thing, who knows, they don’t want to be rude! in reality he just needs to be quiet to survive in his hyrule, so his sneezes are a lot less earth-shaking then some of his brothers’ sneezes (hint, hint). still, he doesn’t correct their assumptions. they can handle a little mystery solving, can’t they? plus, he’s a little curious to see how long it will take for them to find out the truth. and seeing them tiptoe around it is a little amusing, too. maybe he’ll even start giving them false clues—would they believe him if he said that fairies didn’t breathe through their noses? that fairies don’t sneeze because they use their wings to breathe?
yes. every link is a little shit, in case you couldn’t tell. hyrule is no exception.
twilight:
sneezes like a dog. sometimes it just sounds like he’s hacking. his head shakes like a dog’s when he sneezes, too, and he is 100% made fun of for it. “did the ghost of that wolf pelt possess you, rancher?” “been spending too much time around wolfie?” post-wolfie reveal it makes a lot more sense to the chain, but pre-wolfie reveal it’s the funniest thing ever. he’ll sneeze when something’s too strong-smelling or at random moments when sneezing really doesn’t make any sense, and he’s been given the title of “awkward sneezer” because it always happens at the worst time. it’s happened mid-battle before—but really, who can blame him? wild’s bokoblins were putting WAY too much seasoning on their food!
warriors:
his sneeze is normal. too normal. so remarkably normal that the rest of the chain are determined to find out how he does it. what does he mean, that’s just how his sneeze has always been? it isn’t too loud? too quiet? too canine or feline or any other type of -ine? is he really sure he’s a link, if his sneeze doesn’t sound like something even ganon would fear? he has a sneeze, it’s just so…basic.
warriors just shrugs and says that maybe he’s the only normal one among them. out of all nine, maybe he’s the only sane one. the chain knows this isn’t true.
what they don’t know, however, is that warriors is a master of deception, and that he goes to sleep at night with a smile on his face at the knowledge that the chain will never, ever know his secret…
his sneeze is louder than wild’s.
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Eddie’s doing some dumb trick with a couple of wooden spoons, clever hands making them move through the air in improbable ways, and Steve’s about to bite his whisk in half.
He’d thought for sure that Eddie would be going home the first week; Edward Munson, 29, bartender/musician from Brighton with mismatched tattoos and wild hair, seemed like exactly the kind of pretentious asshole who would flame out early with some ill-advised hipster experimentation. If Steve (28, social worker from Indiana, USA) had been a complete asshole, he’d have said that Eddie didn’t have the fundamentals. That he was all sizzle, no steak.
It’s a good thing Steve’s not a complete asshole, because Eddie’s been blowing the technicals out of the water so consistently it’s actually pretty fucking embarrassing. His signatures and showstoppers are making a very respectable showing too, except for the time he tried to incorporate some fresh pandan extract and fucked up the liquid ratio, leaving him with a dripping mess that Mary’d declined to even try.
Afterwards, Steve had seen him leaning against a tree and struggling to light a cigarette. Steve went over for no particular reason, flicking on his lighter and holding it out like a peace offering. Eddie looked at him warily, but bent over the offered flame.
“Can’t believe I made it through this one,” Eddie said after a moment, white smoke curling out of his mouth.
“Yeah, I feel like that every week.” Steve leaned against the tree next to Eddie. It was a big tree, the kind that’s probably been growing in this field since before England was even England.
“Nah, but—c’mon, you know what I mean.”
“You had some bad luck with your showstopper. Happens to the best of us, man. Your signature hand pies looked sick as hell.” Steve’s own hand pies had turned out pretty well, so he was feeling generous. It had only been the third week; plenty of time for Steve to snag Star Baker, though even by that point, Steve had been getting the creeping feeling that he was being a little too American about the whole thing. Everyone else seemed to think competitiveness was some kind of deadly sin. It was—actually kind of nice, to get the same kind of nerves he’d always gotten before high school basketball games, but know that he wasn’t really fighting against anyone except himself in the tent.
Anyway, the very next week, Eddie had done some kind of kickass gothic castle with a shiny chocolate dragon and gotten Star Baker for the second time. Steve had clapped him on the back, appropriately manly. Eddie had pulled Steve into a real hug, arms tight around Steve’s shoulders and his whole lean body pressed up close and warm. It had only lasted a moment, and then Eddie had bounded over to Mel and Sue, both of whom he’s been thoroughly charming since the get-go.
Steve thinks that when this season—or, uh, series—airs, no matter where Eddie places, the entire country is going to be just as charmed. Eddie’s going to get whatever kind of cookbook deal or streaming show he wants. Sponsors will take one look at that handsome face and charismatic grin, and a whole world of possibilities is going to open up for Eddie.
Steve’s not in it for any of that, of course. He’s here kind of by accident, because Robin pushed him to apply, and it’s a goddamn miracle he’s been holding his own. Hell, it’s a miracle he’s in this country at all. When Robin had started looking at the Cambridge MPhil program in linguistics, she’d said wouldn’t it be great if and he’d snorted, yeah right, like I could ever get whatever job I’d need to move to another freaking country, but then—well. Things had happened the way they’d happened, and now Robin’s almost finished with her degree and Steve is taking time off from the London charity he works at in order to be on Bake Off.
He’s told all this to the cameras, plus the stuff about how baking started as a way for him to connect with the kids he used to babysit in Indiana, blah blah blah. He thinks it’s probably too boring for them to air, but he gets that they have to try to get a story anyway.
Eddie Munson, on the other hand, is probably going to be featured in all the series promos. Steve is rabidly curious about what Eddie’s story is, but he hasn’t worked up the nerve to just ask. It should be the easiest thing in the world. They’ve got kind of a camaraderie going, the two of them; a bit of a bromance, as Mel’s put it more than once.
It’s true they get along pretty well, and the cameras have been picking up on it: on the way Eddie’ll wander over to Steve’s bench like a stray cat whenever they get some downtime, how they wind up horsing around sometimes, working off leftover adrenaline from the frantic rush of caramelization or whatever. There’s the time Eddie had hopped up on a stool to deliver some kind of speech from Macbeth, of all things, and overbalanced right onto Steve, who had barely managed to keep them both from careening into a stand mixer. Sue had patted Eddie on the shoulder and said, “Well, boys, that’ll be going in the episode for sure.”
They both get along with the other contestants just fine, of course, but they’re two guys of about the same age with no wife and kids waiting at home. It’s only natural that they’re gravitating together, becoming something like friends, Steve figures. It’s pretty great that he’s getting at least one real friend out of this whole thing.
It would be even greater if Steve could stop thinking about Eddie’s hands in decidedly non-friendly ways. With all the paperwork he’s signed, he can’t even complain to Robin about how Eddie looks with his sleeves pushed up to show off the tattoos on his forearms, kneading dough and grunting a little under his breath with effort. Steve had almost forgotten to pre-heat his oven that day.
Two benches away, Eddie fumbles the spoons he’s been juggling with a clatter, and he bursts out laughing, glancing over at Steve like Steve’s in on the joke. Steve grins back, heart twanging painfully in his chest, and thinks: well, fuck. Guess this is happening.
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I jokingly thought before that reading Junie B. Jones as a kid turned me into a feminist, but unironically, it kind of did.
I honestly think it comes down to the fact that Junie B. was not only allowed to be "weird," but her character arc never concluded like other girl characters would. In other media featuring "weird girls," the girl always ended her arc tamed - by force or convince, she would be prettied up, she would smile and be polite, and she would never speak out of turn. She would be perfect then, and would shed her veneer of individuality with the freedom that is conformity. As a kid, I noticed that girls weren't permitted to be "weird" like boys were. So when I read Junie B. Jones, I loved that she was frankly just fucking weird. She said things out of turn, she was rambunctious and imaginative and she was a realistic portrayal of a little girl. I loved reading those books because the narrative taught her lessons without punishing her for being weird, if that makes sense. So often, narratives punished weird girls for the crime of being a socially unacceptable girl, not for any true wrongdoing like lying.
Anyway, I just think it's interesting, because I watched and read a ton of books and shows and movies featuring girls and women, but none of them truly empathized with (or even tried to empathize with) weird girls on their own merits and capabilities and terms, or embraced the idea of a "socially inept/unacceptable" girl without punishing her in some way for her supposed ineptitude.
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