#and he said he was a bit shy / quiet when they elected him as leader

[royalarchivist]

Green Gay Ninja's "team full of strong opinionated leaders" ran into a lot of communication issues on Day 1, but nobody has more experience wrangling loud rowdy people than FitMC.

[disneytva]

Matt Olsen Uploads The Douglas Furs Series Bible Of The Rejected Disney XD Series From 2015 All Art Belongs To Jesse Ledoux

Matt Olsen from Sly Cooper fame & co-creator of Douglas Furs uploaded in his website the series bible of the Douglas Furs a rejected Disney show for Disney XD who sadly was rejected.

The Douglas Furs is an original cartoon series about a community of animals living together in Douglas, an otherwise unpopulated corner of the deep forest Pacific NW. Though they hold down jobs, use complex machinery, and return their library books late, they still remain animals. It’s like William Shakespeare said, “A bear will always be a bear, even if he’s wearing overalls.”

Characters Names

Barry The Bear: Optimistic Bear with a big heart and that fixes all the problems,supports Douglas to the absolute max, innocence and naivete are components of Barry’s character, he’s no wide-eyed child, speechless and dreamy in the presence of wonder. Quite the contrary! Barry is a loud, active celebrator of every new experience. He loves life! Even the most normal, everyday things can get Barry excited and revved up to a surprising extreme. Though it’s also true that his rabid interest may change in an instant with the discovery of some new stimuli

Mary Margaret: Mary-Margaret attends Rutherberry Elementary, She is the Bullhorn’s star investigative journalist, a role which she takes very, very seriously. The position feeds her all-consuming curiosity, or as her peers simply call it, “being a nosy-pants”. Her efforts have single-handedly made the Bullhorn the most-read paper in Douglas, all but putting the “professional” paper, the Douglas Herald-Gazeteer, out of business. Mary-Margaret is the elementary-school age daughter of Douglas’ leading intellectuals. Her father, Myron, is a critical studies professor at the local university, while her mother, Dagmar, is Douglas’ most esteemed (and only) deep-Jungian psychiatrist.

Beverly:  Beverly is the single force that keeps Douglas functioning as a city. As Deputy Lieutenant Mayor, she performs all the responsibilities of not only her own position, but also the Mayor’s and several other government officials. She’s vastly overworked but somehow manages to hold it together, fulfill all her duties and put out the fires. Sometimes, literally. (She’s also a volunteer firefighter.)

Her hectic home life does not provide much of a relief from her career. She’s happily married to Garland, who in addition to being father and primary care-giver to their children, is a semitalented landscape painter. Her six kids, three sets of twins, are all very energetic and clamor for her attention.

Viktor:  Viktor was a celebrated Cosmonaut of what we would call vaguely Eastern European descent. On his final lift-off – a mission that would have sent him hurtling past Mars and Jupiter to be locked in orbit around Saturn – the rocket he was piloting failed, veered way off course and crash-landed in Douglas. (He suspects the rocket was tampered with by a jealous rival.).  Since that time, his main pursuit has been to repair the rocket and resume his mission. However, due to Douglas’s non-advanced state of technological development that goal remains far outside his reach. So, he remains an unwilling resident, but he’s gradually warming up to living in the township. Maybe.

Viktor is skeptical and even paranoid of almost anything outside his world. As such, he rarely leaves his home for fear of saboteurs. He’s not against helping others, but he wants all the information first and would really prefer it if there was something in it for him, too. This is probably a holdover from his Cold War-esque training.

Rainier Somersett-Psymthe:   Rainier is not only the wealthiest citizen of Douglas, he is also the town’s single-largest employer. He is the current scion of the storied Somersett-Psymthe lineage and, through no effort of his own, inherited the family business: the Silky Beast line of personal shampoos for Him and Her. Due to the hirsute nature of the population of Douglas and surrounding woodland areas, Silky Beast is in extremely high demand. Since the day-to-day running of the plant is handled by underlings, Rainier lives immune from responsibility and has plenty of free time on his hands. The main focus of Rainier’s efforts is feeding his fame. He has a continual hunger for attention and thrills to read his own exploits chronicled and discussed in the local paper. He is a strict adherent to the no such thing as bad press ideal and will perform any manner of ridiculous acts solely to guarantee his presence on the front page. 

 Barry and Rainier are roughly the same age and share many of the same memories of growing up in Douglas, albeit from completely different perspectives. Where Rainier lives in a gilded mansion built by his great-grandfather and passed down from Somersett-Psmythe to Somersett-Psmythe, Barry lives in a one-room yurt that he constructed himself. There’s still a bit of work to be done around the back. No one would ever consider them rivals. No one except Rainier, that is, who considers everyone his rival. It’s possible that Rainier could be envious of the simplicity of Barry’s existence and attempt to out-simplify him, but that hasn’t happened... yet.

Carl:  Carl is Mary-Margaret’s classmate at Rutherberry Elementary and the staff photographer for the school’s newspaper, The Rutherberry Bullhorn. His ability to fly means that he excels at aerial photography and can get shots from many different angles. Carl is drastically near-sighted and requires a large pair of corrective lenses to approach “eagle-eyed”. With the glasses on, he can see slightly better than most of the other animals in Douglas, but without them the world is a predominately blue and green blur. In a lot of ways, Carl fits squarely into the classic “nerd” stereotype, e.g., he’s quiet, bookish, shy, a little physically awkward, etc., but he has other qualities which don’t fall so easily under that sad rubric. His parents have imbued him with a strict sense of personal responsibility, justice and honor. It’s a code of ethics that has been handed down his proud family line for ages upon ages.  What Carl doesn’t realize is that he is also the subject of interest by many of the other girls at Rutherberry. Unfortunately he is too singleminded to notice their adoration, even when it is at its most blatant. He lives every single day on the verge of either making his feelings known to Mary-Margaret or giving up on her entirely

Mayor Trewfuss:  Quincy Trewfuss is the oldest citizen of Douglas and has served as the town’s extremely popular mayor for an astonishing forty-two terms. With one brief exception at the beginning of his career, each of those forty-two terms have been consecutive. At the close of his first two-year term, he declined to run for re-election and happily handed the mayoralty off to someone else.  Trewfuss is entirely unsuited for a life in politics. He is skittish, fearful, apprehensive, easily bewildered and opposed to any and all conflict. He lives in an eternal state of being overwhelmed. His frequent response to any crisis is to follow his natural tendencies and play possum. He literally pretends to be dead. It may have stopped fooling most folks a very long time ago but they understand that whatever calamity has come up has pushed him to the edge. So, in response, he is given time alone to regather his senses. As it turns out, it’s become a very effective tool for him. Those on the inside know that he is only a figurehead at this point. His deputy lieutenant mayor, Beverly, actually handles all the significant mayoral duties. Trewfuss reluctantly appears at ribbon cutting ceremonies, poses for photographs with civic leaders, sleeps his way through city council meetings and that’s about it. Still, he remains perpetually on the verge of a total nervous breakdown.

Link And Louie:  These two live in a homemade tin roof shanty just outside Douglas, beyond the treeline. Though they attempt intimidation, the town generally regards them as more of a nuisance than a threat. Link and Louie, of course, are oblivious to this and sincerely believe they are genuinely terrifying to the regular squares. Though they’ve never revealed how they ended up around Douglas, popular opinion holds that the last town they harassed, finally had enough and chased them out in a most embarrassing fashion. This accounts for the chips on their shoulders and their “somethin’ to prove” attitudes. Link is the instigator, with Louie always willing to go along blindly with any of Link’s plans. Though he’s never been tested, it’s a safe bet that Louie is not very smart. He lets himself be talked into a lot of Link’s fairly stupid ideas, most of which involve putting himself in danger of imprisonment or bodily harm, while Link remains safely at a distance. Link consoles Louie by claiming this as an occupational hazard, their biggest fear is Gordon The Sasquatch.

Gordon:  Gordon is supremely boring. His company invariably brings a slight level of discomfort to everyone he encounters. His stories are long-winded, circuitous and off-topic. He speaks in an exhausted, physically draining monotone. Still, it’s hard to say a bad word against him since he’s never done any harm to anyone. So, those he encounters will often endure the conversation out of kindness and for fear of hurting his feelings. He’s staggeringly sensitive. Now, this is not to say that he’s not without value. Gordon possesses great strength and is very tall. So tall, in fact, that his head is always out of frame or behind a tree branch or perhaps hidden by a low-hanging cloud. (The home viewer will never see his face.) Just on physical presence alone, he’s an intimidating force and may be called upon to act as anything from security to heavy lifting. In those situations, his size and strength becomes a large enough asset to overcome his crippling dullness. Even though he’s not a “true” citizen of Douglas – he camps nomadically in the woods outside town – he’s generally happy to be of service and always enjoys being around others. Gordon is also a budding folksinger and can often be found with an oversize acoustic guitar, singing his terrible songs to the ears of nature, since no one else – given fair warning – is likely to listen. Overall, he’d really like to meet some other sasquatches

Douglas is a township surrounded on all sides by dense Evergreen forest. Within this clearing is a fully-functioning community of various animals indigenous to the Pacific Northwest. The town is constructed of available materials with homes and buildings suited to each animal’s own preferences. For example, as a beaver, Beverly lives in a log cabin-esque dam on the river. Wood and stone dominate the local architecture, while brightly colored mosses, ferns, wildflowers and lichen provide the embellishments. Greens, browns, grays and blues dazzled up by pinks, yellows, oranges and purples provide the palette. Technology exists only to the level it is needed. 

Since the town itself is rather small, cars were never necessary and therefore, not invented. A refrigerator, on the other hand, is an absolute necessity. I mean, how else is one expected to keep one’s salmon puffs fresh? No specific number has ever been ascribed to the population of this small town – they’re not sticklers for data gathering – but as a sort of reference to its size, here’s some semi-useful factoids: 

• 1 TV channel. All of the programming is made in Douglas by Douglas for Douglas. Not surprisingly, a majority of the shows take place in Douglas. “Hot Douglas Nights” is appointment television.

 • 1 fire department and 1 hospital. Accidents do happen. Of course, when they happen to cartoon characters they’re hilarious.

 • 2 school districts, each with its own elementary, middle and high school. This is really only done so that the grammar teams have someone to compete with... er, I mean, with whom to compete. 

• 36 square miles in area. That’s the legal US definition of a Survey Township and, by pure coincidence, a remarkably close measurement of our own township. Go figure

 • 200 years old. Douglas was founded in the year 1812*. Of course, that’s by our calendar. Here, they use a completely different system to measure time. It’s like dog years, but then you have to modulate the formula for each species. It’s very complex. 

[paulinedorchester]

Mosley, Leonard. Backs to the Wall: London Under Fire, 1939-1954. London: George Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1971; reprint, as Backs to the Wall: The Heroic Story of the People of London During World War II, New York: Random House, 1971.

Each generation gets the history that it needs — or wants, or demands. That’s what kept going through my head as I read Backs to the Wall, which appeared three years after France’s youth explicitly rejected both Charles de Gaulle, the self-appointed leader of the Free French during World War II, and the political ideology that he represented, and amidst ongoing unrest over the Vietnam War. (It’s also worth mentioning that it was published in the same year as Norman Longmate’s How We Lived Then: A History of Everyday Life During the Second World War and two years after Angus Calder’s The People’s War.) This book gives up a World War II narrative in which Churchill was an improvement on Chamberlain only in that he wasn’t an appeaser, de Gaulle was worse than both of them put together, the Allied leaders all cordially loathed each other, half the British public wanted to sue for peace, and there was across-the-board mutual dislike between London civilians and American troops (and British dismay at the way African-American troops were treated by their white counterparts was far from universal). Do I exaggerate? Only slightly. Backs to the Wall is a sort of distant, city-specific pre-echo of Juliet Gardner’s sour 2004 book Wartime: Britain, 1939-45.

As with Wartime, however, this book does have the virtue of introducing us to a number of very interesting people. I became interested in reading it because it brought Vere Hodgson’s wartime diary to public attention. Mosley quotes or paraphrases Hodgson’s writing from the beginning of the war through its end, and also seems to have interviewed her extensively. His primary villain, meanwhile, is not Chamberlain but Chamberlain’s chief acolyte, Henry “Chips” Channon, from whose diary he quotes widely (and who turns out to have been born and raised in the United States, to my surprise). We hear a great deal from the chemist and novelist C.P. Snow and follow the misadventures of two civilians, Jenny Martin and Polly Wright, whose consistency in both bad luck and bad choices meant that neither of them was able to stay out of serious trouble for any length of time.

There are many glimpses of the London home front through the eyes of two boys, both eight when the war began: John Hardiman, of Canning Town and later of Aldgate, who was evacuated in 1939 but soon returned to London, and Donald Ketley of Chadwell Heath, who was never evacuated at all. Donald, who thoroughly enjoyed himself during the war, had an experience that speaks to our own recent reality:

Another good thing: quite early in the Blitz, his school had been totally destroyed by a bomb. Since Donald was shy, a poor student and unpopular with his teacher, he was overjoyed when he heard the place was gone. Thereafter he went each day to his teacher’s home to pick up lessons, which he brought back the next day for marking. In the following months he changed from a poor student to an excellent one, and although he was aware that his teacher rather resented it, he didn’t care. 

Mosley also introduces us to Archibald McIndoe, the real-life counterpart of Patrick Jamieson, Bill Patterson’s character in the Foyle’s War episode ‘Enemy Fire.’ Art seems to have imitated life pretty accurately in that instance: he and his burn hospital in East Grinstead were apparently exactly like what was depicted, the only difference being that the hospital was set up in an existing hospital building, not in a requisitioned stately home.

Backs to the Wall seems to have been one of the earliest books to make substantial use of Mass-Observation writings. Most M-O diaries are anonymous, but there are two named diarists here who stand out. John James Donald was a committed pacifist whose air of lofty detachment as he observes the reactions of those around him to air-raids and other wartime event and prepares for his tribunal — which, in the end, he decides not to attend — quickly grows irritating. More interesting is Rosemary Black, a 28-year-old widow, in no small part because she differs markedly from what I had thought of as the archetypical M-O writer. Here’s her self-description on M-O documents: “Upper-middle-class; mother of two children (girls aged 3 and 2); of independent means.” Mosley continues:

She lived in a trim three-story house in a quiet street of the fashionable part of Maida Vale, a short taxi ride from the center of the West End, whose restaurants and theatres she knew well. She was chic and attractive, and lacked very few of the niceties of life: there was Irene, a Hungarian refugee, to look after the children; Helen, a Scottish maid, to look after herself and the house; and a daily cleaning woman to do the major chores.

Black took her children out of London at the beginning of the war but quickly brought them back, and when bombs began falling she kept them in place — air raids might be disruptive for them, but apparently relocation had been worse. She was very much aware that she was riding out the war in a position of privilege, and she often expressed guilt feelings; but this tended to fade away before her irritation at the dominance of “the muddling amateur or the soulless bureaucrat” in the war effort. Offering her services, even as a volunteer, proved very frustrating. “She was young, strong and willing; she typed, spoke languages, was an expert driver and had taken a course in first aid,” Mosley tells us, “but finding a job even as a chauffeur was proving difficult” in September 1940. (She actually wasn’t all that strong physically: as we learn, she suffered from rheumatism which grew worse during the war years and probably affected her outlook.)

Black was greeted with “apathy and indifference” by both A.R.P. and the Women’s Voluntary Service. Early in 1941 she was finally able to get a place handing out tea, sandwiches, cake, and so on to rescue and clean-up workers at bomb sites from a Y.M.C.A. mobile canteen. She was a bit intimidated by the women with whom she found herself working:

Their class is right up to the county family level. Nearly everyone is tall above the average and remarkably hefty, even definitely large, not necessarily fat but broad and brawny. Perhaps this is something to do with the survival of the fittest.

And the work did bring her some satisfaction, even if it was of the type that lent itself to being recorded with tongue placed firmly in cheek:

We had a pleasant and uneventful day’s work serving City fire sites, the General Post Office, demolition workers and Home Guard Stations, etc. We were complimented at least half a dozen times on the quality of our tea ... I think the provision of saccharine for the tea urns to compensate for the mean sugar allowance is my most successful piece of war work. What did you do in the Great War, Mummy? Sneaked pills into the tea urns, darling.

For all her good humor and astute observations, Mrs. Black was far from immune to tiny-mindedness. After an evening out in 1943 she wrote:

I had to wait some time for the others in the cinema foyer, and I was much struck, as often before, by the almost complete absence of English people these days, from the capital of England. Almost every person who came in was either a foreigner, a roaring Jew, or both. The Cumberland [Hotel] has always been a complete New Jerusalem, but this evening it really struck me as no worse than anywhere else! It is really dismaying to see that this should be the result of this war in defence of our country.

Indeed, Mosley cites the results of a multi-year Mass-Observation study that showed a marked increase in anti-Jewish views London’s general population over the course of the war. Since it’s just one study, and since I haven’t seen that study mentioned anywhere else, I am reluctant to trust blindly in its accuracy; and there’s also this:

The small flat which George [Hardiman] had procured for [his family] ... in Aldgate was cleaner and airier than the old house in Canning Town [which had been bombed], and the little Jewish children with whom John now went to school seemed to be cleaner than the ones in Elm Road; at any rate, he no longer came home with nits in his hair.

On the other hand, Mosley himself gives us only a fragmentary view of London’s wartime Jewish population: everyone seems to be either a terrified refugee or an impoverished East Ender. We hear nothing about the substantial middle- and upper-middle class population — mostly of German descent and in some cases German birth — that had already taken shape in Northwest London; and while we are briefly introduced to Sir David Waley, a Treasury official, in connection with the case of an interned Jewish refugee, we aren’t told that Waley himself was Jewish, a member of “the cousinhood.” On yet a third hand, Mosley also quotes other M-O surveys from the same period that indicate largely hostile attitudes to most foreigners in London, with Poles at the bottom of the ladder and the small Dutch contingent on top. (Incidentally, the book’s extremely patchy index identifies Vere Hodgson as a Mass-Observation diarist, which she wasn’t.)

Backs to the Wall closes with a very brief, remarkably non-partisan account of the 1945 general election and its immediate aftermath. “Neither side had any inkling of the way the minds of the British voters were turning,” he writes.

When [Churchill’s] friends suggested that he was a victim of base ingratitude, he shook his head. He would not have such a charge leveled against his beloved countrymen. Ingratitude? "Oh, no," he said quietly, "I wouldn’t call it that. They have had a very hard time."

The book is worth reading for the primary materials that it includes, but it probably tells us as much about the era in which it was written as about the period that it covers.  

[dinfeanoriel]

Karma

This one’s for you, @tuxedoelf! It took a completely different turn than expected, but I hope it’s enjoyable! 

~~~~

It’d started out lighthearted enough. A little tease here and there, a subtle joke, a bit of a nudge, and a hint of a jest. 

Warrior took it in good nature. After all, the Links deserved some fun after everything they’d lived through and done. 

This did not mean he didn’t experience a sense of exasperated annoyance when the meticulous knight would wake to find one or more of his items misplaced or hidden. It was often to the snickering face of Legend, the shy and smiling one of Hyrule, the giggling of Wind and the purposefully oblivious Wild that gave away the fact that the pranksters had done something while he’d been resting. 

They did respect their boundaries and for that, Warrior was most grateful. They never once touched his scarf, knowing of the importance and sanctity it held to the Captain. However, Warrior never did understand why it was him they often targeted. 

Did he give them some sort of satisfaction they couldn’t otherwise receive from the others? He knew why they avoided playing tricks on Time. The Old Man was difficult to read. He was stern, stoic, and their elected leader but there were moments where his deep, rumbling laughter could be heard over the others and his eye would gleam with unrestrained merriment and amusement. He did have a sense of humor the Links had discovered later on in their journey but most were still unsure how the leader would take to pranks or jokes being directed at him. 

Warrior figured Time would merely brush them aside or possibly send a casual barb their way. It wouldn’t surprise him. Or Time would level them with his infamous cool, brooding, stare that left the Links withering from within and wilting on the outside until a smirk would steadily grow on the Old Man’s face. 

Warrior suspected Time knew exactly what kind of effect he had on them and often used it to his advantage. He also had to wonder whether or not the older Hero did it on purpose. It wouldn’t surprise him in the least. 

Over time, Warrior gradually became weary of the jokes, pranks, and teasing remarks of his fellow Heroes but he neither said nor did anything to dissuade them. How could he? When he set eyes on Wind’s beaming smile and brightly lit face...Wild’s muted show of amusement and the mischievous sparkle in those cerulean blues...the look of mirth and glee Hyrule timidly revealed...the lightness he recognized in Legend’s form led Warrior to believe it was worth the daily jabs and high jinks. 

That was…

Until a particular incident. 

It was this...episode... that made Warrior execute a strategic retreat before striking back without warning. The others never saw it coming. This, the Knight used to his advantage. The Captain had several tricks up his sleeve he couldn’t wait to unveil. 

Time had decided the group had covered an acceptable amount of distance for that day and called for them to set up camp. Wind, of course, was more than relieved. Once finished gathering tinder and unfolding his bedroll, the Sailor flung himself down and refused to move. Wild immediately whipped up a fire and proceeded to ponder what meal to cook for that night. Twilight prowled around, checking the perimeter and securing their spot. Sky was scribbling away in the journal he always carried with Hyrule dozing off beside him. 

Legend scraped a knife along a stick he’d found, idly smoothing the gnarled and crooked wood to combat his boredom. Warrior knew he was too lazy to find something else to occupy himself with. He couldn’t blame him. They’d walked an exceptional ways and battled at least four varying groups of monsters. 

Four, the most colorful of them all, appeared to be deep in thought as he diligently read through a book he’d purchased not too long ago. The Hero often bartered, sold, or traded items or books he’d completed for new ones he could bring along with him. There were times where he would pause and murmur quietly to himself, discussing the contents and replying to whatever invisible voice was responding to him. 

It had been a strange sight to see near the beginning of their travels, but now, the Heroes simply accepted it and never questioned Four of this odd habit of his. 

“Warrior,” 

Warrior blinked slowly when the deep, rumbling voice of Time broke through his thoughts and sent them scattering. The Knight straightened and turned to find Time looking to him expectantly. 

Ah...He must have said something to him and the Captain hadn’t heard him. 

“What was that?” Warrior asked, an apology clear in his tone. 

Time gestured meaningfully to the water pouches and canteens the Heroes had laid out, “I asked if you and Twilight would be willing to refill these for us.” 

Warrior was already up and moving before Time could finish his request. He’d always had that drop-everything attitude the Heroes sometimes found amusing and other times admirable. It didn’t matter what Warrior was doing, he was always willing to stop whatever he was occupied with to lend them a hand. 

“Sure thing,” 

Time gave a nod of thanks and Warrior and Twilight gathered the near empty pouches. Accompanied by Epona, the three made their way to a rushing river nearby. To Warrior’s disapproval, Twilight shouldered a pack and stubbornly refused to drop it even when his collarbone protested beneath the strain.

Due to limited potions and fairies, the Links had unanimously determined not to use any unless the wound sustained was severe or there was a great need for them. They weren’t certain when the next opportunity to restock would arise which unfortunately made it difficult for them to estimate whether or not an injury was worth the risk. 

A sudden warp into a new world had caught the Heroes off guard only a couple days earlier. Twilight had taken the brunt of it and ended up with a broken collarbone. It had been snapped clean in half due to a terrible fall he’d taken and Warrior made the call for him to drink a little bit of the Red Potion he carried at all times. Twilight still suffered from the remnants of a concussion- courtesy of his fall- but it was not as bad as it could have been. 

Hopefully, future transports into new worlds would not be as...chaotic and painful. 

Warrior discreetly watched Twilight in the corner of his eye. To his astonishment, even Epona would glance at her Master with concern when she sensed the spike of discomfort and subdued pain he didn’t outwardly express. 

After catching sight of Twilight suppressing a wince, his neutral features contorting faintly, Warrior decided enough was enough. 

Holding a hand out, Warrior ordered, “Give it here.” 

The authoritative tone caught Twilight off guard and the Ordonian paused to give him a look of slight surprise and confusion. Understanding quickly dawned on him, however, and Twilight shook his head. 

Warrior was often struck by how much he resembled Wolfie when he would shake his large head and whip his mane back and forth. 

“I’m fine, Warrior-” 

“It wasn’t a question, Twi,” 

Twilight leveled him with a stare. One Warrior met head on while Epona watched, interested in seeing who would win the silent battle taking place. 

Of course, as Warrior expected, Twilight expelled a sigh and reluctantly slid the heavy pack from his shoulder. Warrior immediately snatched it before Twilight could take it back and flung it around his own shoulders. The Knight could have sworn the majestic horse wilted in relief as she fondly nudged Twilight’s good arm, earning a small smile from the Ordonian as he raised a hand to rub her nose. 

“You agitating your wound isn’t going to help us in the nearby future, Twi,” Warrior chided as they continued their trek to the racing river. The rapid waters cascaded down a rocky cliff, the thunderous sound of it spilling into waters below filling the air almost deafeningly. There was a steep incline downwards full of sharp and jagged rocks of varying sizes the water would crash through or mercilessly glide over. 

It was a picturesque scene. The clear, stormy, waters of the river surrounded by vibrant flowers and luscious green grass. The foam gathering at the bottom of the waterfall and the crystal-like sands forming the banks... Already, the tenseness in the Knight lessened and disappeared as he basked in the refreshing and lightness of the atmosphere. 

With a faint, relaxed smile, Warrior and Twilight descended the small hill and tugged the water pouches out to begin refilling. 

A comfortable silence fell between them, the soothing melody of the racing waters serving as a balm to the building stress, battle-weariness, and exhaustion as the two tugged out the water pouches and dipped them into the river. 

Warrior reveled in the peace and quiet. One-by-one, he submerged the pouches and canteens, filling them to the brim. He set them aside and reached for the last one- 

- only to grasp at air. 

Confused, Warrior turned to find he was less one canteen. Looking to and fro, Warrior frowned when he realized he could not locate the missing canteen anywhere near him. 

“Hey, Twi,” He called. 

A hum drifted in from his left. 

“Do you know where-” He cut off with a startled cry when Epona suddenly reared with a shrill whinny and bucked, her strong body knocking into the person nearest her. 

Warrior was given no time to react. He’d been perched precariously on the water’s edge, balanced on his feet, and the impact was enough to knock him off kilter and send him flailing into the rushing river. 

There was a roaring in his ears as currents dragged him further in and the turbulent waters swelled around him. He barely heard Twilight shouting his name when he broke through the surface several meters away, coughing and spluttering. The river slammed mercilessly into him, threatening to overwhelm and yank him back under. It was only after a few failed attempts that Warrior managed to rip himself out of the stronger currents and into the less fiercer ones. 

Through blurry eyes, Warrior could faintly see a dark blur shooting down the bank towards him. 

Wolfie. 

He was barking sharply, paws grazing the sand as he sprinted towards him, and incredibly blue eyes fixed on the poor, drenched, Knight with open concern. 

Where had Wolfie come from? 

Warrior supposed it didn’t matter. The great beast leaped into the river and kicked fervently through the foaming waters to the Knight with hardly any trouble. 

In the middle of another coughing fit, the dazed Warrior felt the wolf grab hold of the back of his tunic with his powerful jaw and pull him purposefully towards the shore. 

Warrior shakily drew himself to his feet into a slouched position. Coughs still wracked his body due to the water that he’d swallowed when he’d first gone under and he leaned against Wolfie for support, his left hand digging into the thick, soggy, fur. 

Wolfie released a soft, worried, whine and Warrior weakly waved his free hand in the air to dismiss his concerns. 

“I’m fine..!” He managed to rasp out between breaths. They sloshed through the shallow end of the river, making for the bank when Warrior felt a strong arm wrap around his shoulders and gently guide him forward. 

A familiar, deep and authoritative voice broke the silence with a question, 

“What happened?” 

Warrior attempted to clear his throat to answer, but he swallowed wrong and choked on his reply. Screwing his eyes shut, Warrior waited for his screaming lungs to settle and allow him to breathe properly. 

A large, calloused, hand clapped him on the back a few times, helping him to clear his straining airways. 

“Epona startled,” Came Twilight’s voice from Warrior’s left, “I don’t know what scared her, but she knocked Warrior into the river and he got caught up in the currents.” 

Warrior blinked owlishly, his bafflement and disorientation rising. When did Twilight get there? Where did Wolfie go? 

His chest rattled as the Captain took deep gulps of fresh air. He raised a hand to his kvetching throat, blinking his eyes clear. 

“Ugh,” He groaned, thanking the Goddess he could now speak, “That felt awful.” 

“I’d imagine,” Twilight murmured sympathetically, lightly gripping Warrior’s shoulder, “I was worried you’d be swept away!” 

Warrior didn’t know how to reply to Twilight. He hadn’t been scared or worried. His mind had gone instantly blank the instant he’d fallen in. His survival instincts had kicked in, leading to his flailing and floundering to stay afloat and keep his head above the surface. That was all that had mattered to him. 

“If it weren’t for Wolfie, I might have been,” Was what he settled with, “That wolf sure is a lifesaver, especially for us Links.” 

He didn’t see the small grin lining Time’s lips or the the way Twilight rubbed at the back of his neck. 

“We are notorious for getting into trouble,” Time agreed, a hint of amusement in his tone. Warrior wasn’t sure what he found particularly funny, but he supposed it hardly mattered, “Twilight, fetch your horse. Warrior and I are going to make for camp.” 

Warrior could have sighed with relief. His chest hurt and his ribs ached. He looked forward to being able to rest a bit and get some shut-eye. 

“I think I know what startled her,” Twilight growled, drawing their attention. The Ordonian bent down to swipe at something on the ground, bringing it up for them both to see. 

A canteen. 

Warrior’s brow wrinkled, “How did that get there? I could have sworn I had all of them when-” 

And then it hit him. 

His expression flat-lined and exasperation bubbled within him. Time mirrored him, a deep frown marring his features. 

“Another prank...” 

~~~~

“You look like a drowned rat, Warrior,” Legend snickered upon his, Time, and Twilight’s arrival to the camp. Time looked sharply to him with his infamous stern and disapproving expression, ready to rebuke their fellow companion when the Knight retorted swiftly, 

“And yet, I still manage to look better than you, Gremlin,” 

To this, Legend had no reply. The snarky Hero was left to brood silently to himself while the others snickered. 

Time led himself and Warrior across the camp with his hand on the Knight’s shoulder. It was his subtle way of expressing concern and relief. Warrior had discovered this earlier on. While Time wasn’t the most expressive of heroes, there were nonverbal signals and slight nuances in the shifts in his demeanor and eye that gave away what the older Hero was feeling.

After Warrior took a seat, he thanked Time for his trouble. Time only smiled faintly, ruffled his hair a little, and walked away. 

Twilight moved to settle beside the Captain, displeasure rolling off him in waves. 

“Warrior-” The Ordonian began but Warrior cut him off with a wave of his hand. Bearing a grin, Warrior met Twilight’s eye and murmured, 

“Don’t worry. I’ll get them back.” 

The ominous statement intrigued Twilight and the older teen huffed out a small chuckle, a smirk of his own matching the Knight’s. 

“Well, let me know if I can be of any service.” 

This caught Warrior off guard and when he looked to Twilight, wondering if his concussion might have possibly messed with his head more than he’d let on, Twilight indignantly defended himself, 

“What? The Cub needs to be taught a lesson or two.” 

“Ha!” 

~~~~

Warrior spent the next few days conjuring up ideas for revenge. He thought long and hard, mulling scenario after scenario in his mind, casting them aside and crafting new ones. He picked at each and every single possibility, altering details and changing it up in an attempt to forge the perfect comeback. 

He never did find one that he liked. What could he do? It had to be something that would make the pranksters think twice about messing with him.

At night when they would settle for camp, Warrior could often be seen scribbling in his journal with a stark frown. He made lists only to scrap them, drew little scenes only to toss them, and wrote ideas only to dispose of them. 

With a frustrated sigh, Warrior snapped his journal shut and sat back against the log behind him. Nothing he came up with satisfied him. 

His gaze wandered idly to where Wild was preparing their meal. The teen was humming a catchy little tune while he cooked, tapping his foot and bobbing his head along with the rhythm. Faster than should be possible, he had their plates ready and was in the process of setting them around the campfire under Warrior’s supervision. 

When Wild reached him, Warrior could tell from the gleam in his eyes that something was up. 

With a broad, almost shy grin, Wild handed Warrior his plate. Wild didn’t speak much unless he wanted to. He wasn’t necessarily silent and nonverbal but Warrior had taken to understanding the silent language Wild often took to communicating in. 

The younger teen was actually quite hilarious and told the most fascinating of stories that captivated even Warrior himself.

 The Knight accepted the plate with a nod of thanks then watched the much-too-innocent Wild leave with brewing suspicion. When his distrustful, calculating, gaze flit to the meal he held, Warrior knew. 

Wild had put something in it. 

Immediately wary, Warrior recoiled and held the deceptively delightsome meal further away from him. His face screwed up as he wondered at what Wild could have injected in his food. It looked so enticing and had such a pleasant aroma but Warrior knew better. Could he have put in monster guts? Bugs? Fairies? 

With a grimace, lips curling back in disgust, Warrior quickly put his plate on the ground and pushed it away with the toe of his boot when a thought crossed his mind. 

The Knight paused, snatching at the idea and tugging it forward to analyze it. 

With a sly, victorious, grin, Warrior realized this was an ingenious way to pay those fools back for all they’d put him through. 

Looking to the plate Wild had set beside him, Warrior swiftly swooped down and swapped his meal for it.  His sudden movement momentarily garnered Sky’s attention, but when Warrior leaned back, folding his arms behind his head with a pleased grin, figured it was nothing of great import and returned back to his conversation with Twilight. 

Luckily for Warrior, he didn’t have to wait long for everyone to start trickling in to the campsite. Cerulean blues snapped to each individual Hero, wondering which of the nine would sit themselves to Warrior’s left, unknowing of the terrible fate that awaited them.  Warrior took a bite of his food, noticing how closely Wild, Wind, Hyrule, and Legend were watching him. They tried to be discreet about it, but Warrior’s eye was trained to catch onto the smallest and most insignificant of details and never brush them aside. 

Smugness arose within him but he was careful not to openly display it. Those fools...He would play them well.  He proceeded to take another bite, pretending not to notice them. A difficult feat. He could feel their attentive stares boring into him. He pulled back, setting his utensils down and chewed. He paused for dramatic effect, trying not to show his increasing amusement when the four Links leaned forward expectantly, intently awaiting his reaction.  No doubt they were eagerly anticipating a profound one.  Well, it would not be his reaction they would be witnessing today. No, it would be some poor, unfortunate, soul Warrior had swapped his plate with. Secretly, he festered the hope that it would be one of the very pranksters themselves. But as luck would have it… That was not to be…  Time finally arrived with Four trailing beside him. Their elected leader entered the encampment, his very presence expanding and enveloping the area. Warrior would be lying if he claimed he didn’t feel safer with the Old Man present.  Yet his curiosity was eating at him! Warrior wanted to know who would decide to sit beside him! That was… Until Time moved around the campfire, coming closer and closer. Warrior’s heart began to thunder and his stomach twisted and churned nervously.  Time walked past him, a gentle breeze disturbing the strands of Warrior’s hair and brushing against his neck.  It was in that moment that Warrior knew who the victim of the Heroes’ prank would be though he desperately hoped to be proven wrong.  But when was he ever?  Time paused.  Please, sit elsewhere. Sit elsewhere, Old Man! He internally pleaded. Shock and dismay flooded Warrior as Time lowered himself with the grace and agility of an experienced Hero to the ground on the spot right next to the Knight.   Nononono-! But the Old Man remained blissfully unaware of Warrior’s silent beseeching. Time leaned back, dropping his pack into the dirt in front of the log they were sat against. The foreboding sound echoed in Warrior’s ears, almost deafening him.  His heart plummeted into the pit of his stomach as Time maneuvered himself around and shifted until he was comfortably reclined against the log. The look of ease and content that came over Time and the relaxed posture in which he sat would not last long, Warrior knew.  Why, Old Man! Why?! He inwardly cried, You never sit beside me! What could have possibly made you choose to do so today?!  Time surveyed their little group, his single-eyed gaze appraising each individual Link around the table before settling on the stiff Knight beside him.  He frowned. The older adolescent was as tense as a coiled spring, ready to snap if provoked. His fingernails dug into the skin of his palms, though Warrior didn’t appear to notice. His knuckles were turning white from the unrelenting grip.  It piqued Time’s curiosity.  “Whatever has you so uptight, Warrior?”  Was it him, or was Warrior looking apprehensive and trapped? Like a cornered animal uncertain of what action to take next?  The Captain certainly looked ready to pass out from the dread building up within him.  Warrior coughed awkwardly, gesturing to Time’s meal with his left, “You might…” He began, his voice quiet and strangled, “Might not want to...erm...eat...your meal.”  Time coolly raised an eyebrow.  “Are you suggesting that I starve, Warrior?”  Although his low and rumbling voice was stern and stoic, Warrior’s sharp hearing caught the underlying hint of teasing coating his words.  “I…” Warrior tried to think of what to answer, but his mind faltered and slammed to a halt. This would happen at such an inopportune time! He struggled to kickstart his malfunctioning brain, words rapidly flying from his tongue, “Of course not but-”  A hand settled heavily on his shoulder followed by a faint laugh as Time smiled down at the knight, “Ease up, Warrior. No need to be so tense.”  Oh, Time wouldn’t be laughing for much longer.  Warrior made to speak-  But Time reached for his fork.  Warrior found his gaze riveted to Time’s plate, where he knew something awaited. Had Wild put something in the food? Some kind of monster gut? A different dubious item he had a tendency to collect?  Bugs? Insects?  Just the thought disgusted the Knight. The apprehension and regret made him queasy.  Warrior repined swapping plates now but there was nothing he could do but sit and watch Time cut a portion of the perfectly cooked, deceitfully delicious meat and raise the fork up.  I should warn him-  The thought comes too late.  Time had already taken a bite.  The whole world crumbled around Warrior as he awaited with great trepidation and foreboding for Time’s reaction.  Wild, Hyrule, Wind, and Legend were completely forgotten when Time chewed once, twice… And then stilled.  I should have warned him…    The Old Man’s jaw locked and Warrior swore Time’s face was slowly turning an impressive shade of rouge. It started faintly enough- a light dusting of pink, but as the seconds slowly ticked by, it grew more vibrant and deep until it was a burning shade of red.  With his focus narrowed on Time, Warrior missed the absolute look of sheer horror dawning on the tricksters. They’d been wondering at Warrior’s strange and uncharacteristic behavior until they noted how rapt he’d been watching Time.  Twilight and Sky paused in their conversation when they noted the sudden, absolute, silence that had settled o’er the table the Heroes were gathered round. Four curiously raised his head, noting the rigidness of Hyrule, Legend, Wild, and Wind and how fraught with anticipation Warrior appeared to be.  That was when they noticed Time’s burning face and the strained expression he’d adopted. The Old Man willed his jaw to move, but it stubbornly refused. His stomach quelled the desire for nourishment. His throat was parched, his mouth scalding hot.  “Time?” Sky called with unveiled concern, he and Twilight slowly rising from their chairs.  Warrior’s eyes slowly drifted shut.  He should have just taken it for himself and spared them all. He certainly would have spared Time. 

”Someone get some water!” It was Hyrule’s voice that snapped Warrior from his thoughts and the Knight shot upright immediately.

”Not water!” Four refuted with a shake of his head, shooting to his feet, “Milk! Does anyone have some milk?” 

The encampment burst into action with the Heroes digging through their packs and tossing out items in search for their bottles. 

Warrior scrambled to his knees and gripped Time’s shoulder tightly, giving him a slight shake, 

”Can you spit it out, Time?” 

By the Gods, he’d never seen Time so red before! He was practically burning! Even his eye was watering and there was sweat beading on his brow! 

The older Hero was as still as a statue, jaw welded shut and unwilling to move. 

"Din’s grace, Wild, what did you put in my meal?!” Warrior hissed, apologizing profusely to Time while simultaneously trying to help the Old Man to summon the strength and willpower to pry his jaw open and spit the food out. 

It felt to be an eternity before Sky whipped out a bottle of Lon Long Milk with a relieved cry and dashed to Time’s side, shoving it into his hands and coaxing him frantically to take it. 

Time’s stomach chose that moment to rebel. 

Warrior cringed at the painful sounds of hacking, coughing, choking, and sputtering their leader made as he desperately downed the bottle of Lon Lon Milk as if his life depended on it. 

Their formidable and stoic leader wheezed as Sky and Warrior pat his back sympathetically, the other Heroes crowding around them with concern wincing at the breathless coughs that escaped him. 

It wasn’t until Time cracked open an eye and seared Legend, Hyrule, Wind, and Wild with his infamous, brooding, stare that Warrior knew he would be fine. 

~~~~

Lon Lon Ranch. 

Ever a welcoming sight to behold. 

Warrior would be lying if he claimed to not have missed this beautiful and tranquil place. Malon welcomed them with bright eyes, a warm smile, and open arms. Warrior could tell the Links had never felt more at home than they did now. 

Of course, as the Heroes were wont to do, they split apart and designated tasks to one another to complete. They knew Malon appreciated their hard work and willingness to help around. 

Warrior himself was in the process of brushing the horses down, smiling when they shook their heads with a snort, their manes whipping through the air. They truly were such magnificent and majestic creatures. 

He’d never felt so at ease before. 

“Warrior,” 

“Hylia’s Grace!” Warrior exclaimed, startling violently at the deep voice that had come from behind him. 

The Captain slapped a hand over his frantically beating heart, directing an unappreciative glare at Time. The Old Man was poorly smothering his laughter, a smile curving his lips and single eye sparkling. 

“For Goddess’ sake, Time!” Warrior snapped, no bite in his tone, “A little warning next time!” 

The horse he’d been brushing nickered and Warrior could have sworn he was laughing at his misfortune. 

“I am the only one capable of sneaking up on you,” Was all Time said with a relaxed grin, “I have to use it to my advantage.” 

“I knew you were evil,” Warrior shook his head in disbelief, “This must be where they get their wicked streak from,” He remarked lowly to himself. 

Time frowned faintly, inclining his head. 

“Who?” 

Warrior blinked and waved his question aside with a smirk, “Nothing. No one.” He straightened and dusted his tunic off, fixing his disheveled hair and accidentally smearing dirt on his cheek, “Did you need something?” 

“Yes, I did,” Time replied, clasping Warrior on the shoulder and gently maneuvering him away. The knight snapped to attention and matched his pace. There was a pang in Time’s heart at the swift adoption of what Wind and some of the other Heroes called Warrior’s “Captain Persona.” Warrior most likely did not notice it. It was far too ingrained into him and came most likely without him realizing or being conscious of it. 

He was quick to become serious and grave and his eyes would harden or narrow with determination and consideration in a split second. He became a completely different person. 

“Settle down, Warrior,” Time pat his shoulder in the hopes of getting him to relax. Lon Lon Ranch was a place for them to let loose and enjoy themselves for once. To shed their burdens, worries, concerns, and strip themselves of the title “Hero” and just be themselves, “I only had something I wished to discuss with you.” 

Warrior raked a hand through his hair and quirked an eyebrow, “What was it?” 

A look entered Time’s eye as the older Hero guided Warrior to the open field the horses were left to graze. The other Links could be seen dotting the area, performing a multitude of tasks and chatting amiably with one another. 

“You are devising a plan, aren’t you?” At the bewildered look he received, Time clarified, “To get them back.” 

Understanding dawned on Warrior and he slowly nodded, “I am...” His calculating gaze slid to the taller Hylian, “Is there a reason you are asking..?” 

Time’s smile broadened, morphing in a smirk.  An incredibly familiar smirk. 

He clapped Warrior on the back, “Why, I am so glad you asked, Warrior. Might I make a suggestion?”

Warrior came to a sudden stop, whipping his head up to stare incredulously at Time, “A-a suggestion?” His mind whirled. What was this? Time was going to help him obtain his revenge? 

Time dipped his chin curtly, “I believe I have the perfect comeback, only,” He narrowed his single eye on Warrior, adding pointedly and with a hint of mischief, “You cannot say a word to Malon. She would have both our heads for this,” 

Now Warrior was intrigued. 

“I can do that. What is it?” He eagerly wanted to know. Time’s expression softened at the excited and curious gleam in the Captain’s eyes. 

“Very well.” He leaned down, lifting a hand and pointing somewhere in the distance of the Ranch, “Surely you have come to recognize that we Links all have an innate fear of...” 

~~~~

The act of retribution Time had suggested left Warrior stunned. He often found himself wondering how he’d never thought of it. It was beyond perfect! To think that Time had come up with it astounded the Knight. Then again, Warrior figured he should not be all too surprised. 

The Old Man was so full of mysteries and secrets. The Links knew next to nothing about him or his adventures. Warrior believed he was most likely the most devious and mischievous of the Links. 

With it being Time’s plan, Warrior was left with bringing it to fruition. 

And he knew exactly how he would do so. 

After all, there was one specific Link completely oblivious and unreservedly enamored with these dangerous little incarnations of evil. 

Warrior wouldn’t risk coming five feet of them but this one would. 

“Sky!” Warrior called, waving an arm in the air to catch the Skyloftian’s attention. 

Sky paused in what he was doing and turned to face him with a welcoming smile, “Warrior, is there something you need?” 

Always so pleasant and friendly. Sky was certainly someone no one could ever dislike. He was the kind of person that if someone were to look at him, they would instantly like him. Sky was never without a contented and appreciative smile. He was thoughtful, considerate, and soft-spoken. A Hero with a big heart. He was not to be undermined, however. As pure and innocent Sky appeared on the outside, he was an equally strong and quick warrior. A powerful Hero that was to be revered.

His presence was incredibly soothing- which must be the reason why these foul creatures were drawn to him. 

“Yes, there is!” Warrior answered, clasping his hands together, “You see, I need to ask a favor of you.” 

“Oh?” Sky tipped his head to the side, “What is it?” He set down the bags he’d been carrying and Warrior could have shaken his head. Sky never failed to put others before him. 

“Well, I was wondering if you might be able to fetch me a cucco?” 

Sky’s brows drew together, befuddlement darkening his eyes at the Captain’s odd request. 

“A cucco? You can’t find one yourself?” He looked past Warrior’s shoulder, where an entire flock of cuccos were clucking about. 

Warrior grimaced, “It isn’t that I can’t find them, it’s that I am unwilling to risk my life in picking one up.” 

Sky tilted his head once again, strikingly resembling a young puppy. 

“What is the risk to your life..?” 

Pained remembrance distorted Warrior’s features, a strained smile on his lips, and phantom pain tingling across his body. Sky was certainly fortunate to have never experienced the wrath of a cucco. 

“Please, Sky, all I am asking is for you to bring me a cucco.” 

Sky shrugged lightly, “I don’t understand why you fear them so, Warrior, but I will bring you one.” The Skyloftian moved to do as promised and crouched before the fifteen or so cuccos gathered together a ways away. He spoke softly to them, adoringly, and coaxed one into coming to him. 

Sometimes, Warrior envied Sky... 

With impossible ease, Sky collected the cucco into his arms and stood, stroking the bird soothingly and doting on it. Warrior didn’t know how he did it. The cucco hardly stirred, seemingly content where it was cradled against the Skyloftian’s chest. 

“There you are!” Sky brightly announced to Warrior, presenting him with the cucco. 

Warrior instinctively recoiled when the cucco’s black, beady, eyes pierced through him, boring into his very soul. He had no doubt these creatures possessed the ability of tearing him apart from the inside out. It flapped its wings a couple of times and Warrior felt his heart leap into his throat as a lance of pure, unadulterated, terror shot through him. For a second, Warrior thought the cucco would call for its fellow friends and come raining down on him in a flurry of feathers and enraged clucking. 

He was increasingly careful not to provoke it. 

“Wonderful-” And Warrior would pretend his voice had not gone up an octave. He cleared his throat, “If you wouldn’t mind setting it over there, behind Legend, Wild, Wind, and Hyrule,” 

“What? Why?” Utterly bemused, Sky turned his head towards said Heroes. 

“Please, Sky,” 

“Alright..?” Sky spun on his heel and promptly went to deposit the cucco in the spot Warrior had said. He looked to Warrior for confirmation only for the Knight to fervently wave him over. 

Confusion building, Sky returned back to where the Captain stood a safe distance away. 

“Thank you,” Warrior said, bringing a couple fingers up to his chin, “Now, how to do this without turning it against me...” 

Sky turned wide eyes on the Knight, “What are you planning, Warrior?!” 

Nothing good, if the look in his companion’s eyes was of any indication. Sky felt his stomach churning, concern for his little cucco friend stirring. 

Before he could say or do anything, the cucco suddenly jumped when a seed came flying into its side. Sky whipped around to find Twilight loading a slingshot with another seed and prepping it. 

“What are you doing?!” Sky demanded to know, horrified when the Ordonian, completely unaffected by the shock and rebuke the Skyloftian openly displayed, let loose another projectile. 

It flew straight and true. Smack dab into the cucco. 

He was purposefully riling it up, Sky realized. He made to rescue his little bird friend when Warrior’s hand snapped out with unnatural speed and tugged him back to safety. 

“Believe me, Sky,” Warrior ominously began when Sky looked incredulously to him, “You want to be as far away from those things as possible- especially when they’re angry.” 

Before Sky could demand what he meant, the cucco suddenly froze then violently hopped three times with a furious squawk. 

Before Sky’s disbelieving eyes, a whole swarm of cuccos came diving out of nowhere and flocked angrily around Legend, Wild, Wind and Hyrule. Twilight and Warrior watched with unrestrained amusement while Sky was immobilized by complete shock and horror. 

The four unfortunate pranksters released identical cries of alarm as the cuccos came flying towards them from all directions. The varying looks of absolute, sheer, terror that crossed their faces were some that Warrior and Twilight would forever remember.

“It’s remlits in bird form…” Sky whispered in mingled dread and awe, recalling all too vividly a particular incident from long ago.  

Twilight and Warrior could only laugh, Time’s unrestrained laughter mingling with their own from somewhere behind them while Legend, Wind, Hyrule, and Wild scattered in a desperate attempt to flee from the flock of vengeful Cuccos. White feathers exploded everywhere, fluttering in the air and blanketing the ground as angry and shrill squawks and clucks encompassed the air, accompanied by Wild, Legend, and Wind’s terrified shouts. They bolted across the ranch, desperately hoping to outrun the cuccos, but as every Link knows and Sky was recently made aware of...

There is no fleeing a cucco, for a cucco will always have its vengeance one way or another. 

[inrainprose]

I wish you would write a fic where... Orphan Naruto gets to meet Nagato and Karin and finds out they’re from the same clan so because they have no more family they build a familial bond with each other. Basically an AU where Yahiko was never killed and the Akatsuki remained a peaceful organization lol

Inspiration struck, thank you for that! Hope you’ll like it, and you can all send me more.

cross-posted on ao3

“That wasn’t part of the plan at all!” Yugito exclaimed, and despite her cool and collected exterior, her eyes were ablaze with fury. In these moments Yahiko didn’t feel much of a leader at all.

But he still was.

“I know, okay? Things got a bit… out of hand.”

“Out of hand? Out of hand?”

“Yugito!”

Startled, they turned to Nagato sitting in a corner of the room. Yahiko could count on one hand the number of time he had heard his friend raise her voice like this, especially against Yugito.

“You’re scaring him,” he said simply, voice soft, face betraying nothing. He had been focusing on his young charge still bundled up in his arms, but he was also paying close attention to the conversation.

Konan rested a light hand on Yugito’s shoulder, and the woman’s anger melted away as she breathed deeply, making an effort to school her feature, if only for appearance’s sake. Yahiko couldn’t begrudge her anger – she was just worried, and rightly so. The situation had gone out of hand indeed.

“It’s done now,” he said, placating. “We just have to run with it.”

Quite literally – they had run their fair share in the last few days, covering the distance from Konoha to their main headquarter in record time. Especially counting their newest – and smallest yet – addition to the group.

There was no going back anyway. Just the way Nagato was clutching at the tiny boy, it was clear that turning back was not an option. Nagato was quiet, and he seldom voiced his opinion, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have one. And on that matter Yahiko suspected that it was quite a strong one too.

“What is it?” Nagato murmured, oblivious to any others when the kid stirred in his arms. A mop of bright blonde hair peeked from the blanket he was bundled in.

“I don’t wanna cause trouble,” came the tiny, tiny voice. Yahiko’s heart broke a little.

“You’re not,” Nagato assured, and it wasn’t true, it was causing them troubles big time, but it also didn’t matter.

“I shouldn’t have yelled,” Yugito admitted. “I’m sorry. You’re not at fault, Naruto.”

Hearing his name made the boy come out of his hiding spot for good to cast curious looks at the people gathered around him with his big, shining blue eyes. What a strange bunch they had to be in a child’s eyes, with their matching coats and weird eyes and all kind of facial features and hair. Naruto had never left Konoha, and hadn’t seen even much of that, so it had to be quite the novelty.

He wasn’t scared though. He wasn’t worried, not even a little, and that was maybe the best and the worst about it. He hadn’t questioned it, when Nagato had told him they could take him away, if he wanted.

“Are you my long-lost brother? Have you come to rescue me?” he had asked.

It appeared that little Naruto dreamt of various family members or unrelated heroes appearing out of nowhere to sweep him away, give him a home and a life. In the end he had been right to hope.

“No. But I’m… I’m an Uzumaki, like you. We’re from the same clan.”

The awe with which Naruto had whispered “clanmate”, something he had to have witnessed all around him in Konoha but could never experience for himself – Yahiko would remember it for the rest of his life.

“We’re cousins,” Nagato had said, decisive like he rarely was, natural shyness and clumsiness falling away in front of the boy’s desperation and loneliness. “We belong together.”

To think, they had gone to Konoha to be liked.

Running away with their jinchuuriki had probably put quite the damper on that plan.

“So I can… Can I stay?” the boy asked, cautiously hopeful. And really, even hardass Yugito wouldn’t be able to say no to this voice and face. That boy was freaking adorable.

“You can. If you want to,” Nagato said, never one to impose anything.

“I want to!” Naruto exclaimed, springing up to his feet to perch on Nagato’s lap, grabbing a fistful of his cloud-patterned cloak to keep his balance as he stared, undisturbed, into Nagato’s swirling eyes. As if he needed to convince him somehow.

As if he was scared they would withdraw the offer.

Were Yahiko’s eyes getting a little damp or what.

They were interrupted by someone knocking on the open door. “Here she is,” Kyusuke said, ushering another kid inside, another rescue they just couldn’t bear to leave behind. She straightened her glasses, an unconscious reflex she had when she was nervous, and she always was a little around them, even if she had been living here for months.

“Come in, come in, Karin! We’d like you to meet someone,” Yahiko cheered, anxious to move this whole debacle to a happier note.

Nagato got up, setting Naruto down gently, even if the boy was reluctant to let him go. In the end Nagato had to kneel by his side and Naruto kept a hand tangled in the fabric of his cloak as the girl approached them.

“Who’s that?” she asked. She was brash in her hesitance, never one to show weakness. She was nervous too though.

“’m Uzumaki Naruto,” the boy answered, not so shy either, in the end. “And who’s you?”

Karin’s eyes widened at the name and she couldn’t keep the frown in place when she looked at Nagato for confirmation, who nodded slowly, encouraging. Karin blushed, a tiny, pleased smile softening her stern demeanor, making her look more like the kid she actually was still.

“My name is Karin. Uzumaki Karin.”

And oh, wasn’t it a sight to behold, the look of recognition on Naruto’s face, and the smile that bloomed, full force, on his young face, bending the whiskers on his cheeks, blinding in its intensity.

“Like Nagato!” he exclaimed, as if maybe the girl wasn’t aware of that. She huffed.

“Duh, of course he is. We’re a clan after all.”

“We’re a clan,” Naruto whispered back in awe. “Me too?”

“Well, yeah,” Karin said, showing disaffection like it was no big deal, even if she was fighting a smile of her own.

It was hard not to answer to Naruto’s open delight.

He reached out to touch her hair, of all things. They were a fiery red, much brighter than Nagato’s, and the boy stared at the strands in his hand, fascinated. She let him, she who was so wary of physical contact. Most Uzumaki’s shared the hair color, and even if Naruto didn’t, maybe it stirred something inside of him.

Did he have any memory, however fleeting, of his mother? It was sadly doubtful giving the circumstances of his birth and her death, but still…

“Karin, do you think you could take Naruto to have a look around the place? You can show him his room – it will be the one just next to yours”, Yugito urged, gentle but firm. Karin got the message – for a girl so young, she was smart and quick to the uptake, and she could get a dismissal when she heard one.

“Yes ma'am.”

“You don’t have to call me…”

“Come now, Naruto! I’ll show you everything.”

She took Naruto’s hand – he let go of Nagato at last, and followed her, a little bewildered, out of the room.

Yugito waited for the door to close behind them to let out a long, heavy sigh.

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” she said again, leveled this time.

“You didn’t see how it was back there. How they treated him. We couldn’t just do nothing!” Yahiko exclaimed, defensive. He didn’t want to argue this with her.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” she shot back sternly. “It wasn’t part of the plan, but now it obviously is. We have to act accordingly.”

“It’s now two jinchuuriki in our ranks,” Konan said. “One who deserted on her own volition, and whose existence was kept on the down-low, is not the same as two, the second having been abducted from his village.”

“Come on, we didn’t abduct him! He agreed!”

Konan stared Yahiko down with a steady glare, until he relented.

“Okay fine, I guess from an outside perspective we did abduct him a little.”

“So what now?” Yugito asked, and he knew it was her way of punishing him for that momentary lap of judgment. For not saying anything, not stopping Nagato when he understood who the boy was, what life he had lead up until then, when he simply elected to snatch Konoha’s jinchuuriki from right under their nose, although they were supposed to be on a diplomatic visit to the village’s commandment. Konoha wasn’t the most openly hostile toward the Akatsuki, but that didn’t make them friendly either.

All of them shared that blind spot, though when it came to family and children. Naruto was barely five, and he lived on his own, and he didn’t have a single person in his life who cared about him. Just like Karin they had found was slaving away in a Kumo outpost near the border of Ame, a child forgotten by the world.

But not by them. Never.

When Nagato had taken the child’s hand, it wasn’t as the Kyuubi’s host. It was as a lost member of his own clan.

Who happened to be the Kyuubi’s host though. Because they were lucky like that.

“Jinchuuriki are instruments of war,” Nagato piped up, joining back the group. They all tensed up – they were, and it was something they had always wanted to address at one point or another.

“Kumo could spare you, Yugito, but Konoha is without their own now. It leaves them vulnerable. Since it’s our doing, it’s up to us to fix it, and we’re not… We’re not sending Naruto back.”

He paused, just to be sure that was in agreement. They all nodded – on that matter at least, they were on the same page.

“The system works if every village has their weapon…”

“Or if none of them do,” Yahiko concluded, following Nagato’s reasoning down to its quite obvious conclusion.

Of course. Of course. That was it.

“Are you serious about this?” Yugito asked, and it wasn’t with her usual accusing or scandalized tone, the one that said “are you freaking kidding me right now?”. At the end of the day, she was here because she shared their ideals and goals, because she believed it. And she also shared the plague of her fellow jinchuuriki, she too had hoped for this before, but she had probably resigned herself to how powerless they were in this situation.

Except they weren’t.

“We no longer fear annihilation as we once did,” Yahiko said. They had grown powerful in the last few years. No matter how displeased the hidden villages were with them, they could no longer afford to move against the Akatsuki on their own, and their grievances were too antithetic for them to form an alliance over the matter. “And if we do this indeed…”

“We never will have to,” Konan said, considering. It was a risky bet, deciding to hoard all that power. Except they didn’t plan on ever using it. The rest of the world couldn’t know that, but they did. And they would hold on to this.

“What do you think, Yugito?” Konan asked. More and more she deferred to the other woman, with whom she shared a kinship that almost made Yahiko jealous. Except how could he be mad at Konan finally managing to form a bound outside of their little trio? Even Nagato wasn’t quite as bad as she was on this. But Konan cared deeply about the other woman, and Yugito did too in turn. Yahiko got a little emotional over it sometimes.

Besides, if Naruto was of Nagato and Karin’s people, in some other way he was of Yugito’s too. They shared the same fate, suffered the same injustice. Them, and the seven others. She had to be on board for them to act on it. If she refused…

“I think…” she said with a sigh, like she was regretting her words already, “that Suna’s jinchuuriki is about Naruto’s age, and treated about as well by his village too.”

She looked long-suffering, but she smiled at Konan’s pleased expression. Konan liked it best when everyone agreed.

“It’s settled then!” Yahiko said cheerfully. “Operation Jinchuuriki Snatching is officially in motion.”

Yugito smacked him around the head, but still, he laughed.

[skiecas]

daichi/michimiya + a hopeless romantic and a horny beast are set up on a blind date au

A strand of her hair had apparently decided that morning to defy gravity, as if it knew the importance of today. Yui attempts to flatten it down, using her spoon as a makeshift mirror, but it curls right back up and she’s on the border of giving in. It’s not as if her hair ever behaved to begin with; she’d have been pleasantly shocked if it started today.

With her hair no longer serving as a distraction (well, it was still distracting, she had just decided to ignore it), she turns to other things to keep her from pondering the ever-moving passage of time. She smooths down her collar, adjusts her beanie, reapplies her borrowed tube of lip gloss, practices saying “hello” like it was her first day ever speaking aloud, and can’t decide between crossing or uncrossing her legs. She’s just been caught mid-uncross, in fact, when she looks up and her date is horrifyingly standing at the other end of the table.

“Are you Michimiya?” he asks, politely.

Frozen—her mind urges her to say “hello” like she’s been practicing but she doesn’t process the word—she just blurts out, “You’re not as horny as you look online.”

He coughs.

She wants to bury her head in sand.

“Um! I mean! Y-You’re not—you look—” She makes a generic motion with her hand towards him, though she’s not entirely sure what she was trying to say. Maybe it really is her first day speaking aloud.

Sawamura is (thank god, thank god) a polite person. He laughs, not unkindly, and molds a hand around his neck. “Well, I’m not really a level twenty-four cave warrior offline. But you knew that.”

“R-Right.”

He was an assistant physics teacher from a nearby high school. He’d shared that bit of information once during one of their private online chats.

Michimiya squints up at him, imagining for a brief, flickering moment the boy in front of her wearing full battle gear like his online persona, complete with his usual metallic helmet with the horns on either side. It would actually suit him, she decides; Sawamura is built stocky and strong, much like his character of choice.

An edge of uncertainty seeps into her bones. Yui knows she’s a far cry from the dainty, pixie-like healer she plays on the online server. She wonders at Sawamura’s first offline impression of her, but then quickly shakes the thought away. They’re friends. Friends.

Maybe she’s been imagining, just a little bit, the idea of meeting her strong, reliable guild leader in real life and the two of them connecting like they had in their first multi-player battle, laughing at the same jokes, brushing hands across the table, falling in love…

“You don’t know anything about the guy,” Mao had deadpanned, when she’d shared her daydreams. “He could be some middle-aged dweeb catfishing you, for all you know. Frankly, Yui, I’m scared to let you meet him alone.”

But Sawamura was the farthest thing from a middle-aged dweeb.

He was actually really her type. His jawline was strong. His eyes were black and serious. His chest—

No, no. She wouldn’t let herself think that far.

But, okay, maybe her knees went a little puddly when he smiled at her from across the table, looking just as nervous as she felt, to finally connect away from the safety of a blue screen.

“How’s work treating you, Michimiya?” he asks, after taking the offered seat across. He knew she worked in a vet’s office, and that her dream was to own one herself one day.

“It’s been so hectic!” she shares. “I mean, I love my job, but it was a big, big relief to step out of the office today. The animals are a little stir-crazy these days being indoors so much.” The weather outside has been dreadful and cold as of late.

“I feel you,” he says, solemnly. “I think my students are just as rabid.”

They share a laugh.

Yui feels wonderful, being able to laugh aloud with her old friend like this rather than typing out a sentence of canned laughter over text chat. She likes the way his eyes crinkle when he’s amused, the way his shoulders shake. He looks as reliable as he acts during their group quests, or when there’s an argument between their members that needs to be quelled (usually the newest recruits, babycrow and tsukki011, whose real names she has yet to learn).

She has Sugawara to thank, for initiating the conversation about their real-life locations and suggesting they meet up when they learned how surprisingly near they were. Yui would never have had the courage.

But Sawamura’s not hard to talk to at all, now that the original awkwardness has dissipated.

“And, you know!” she’s regaling him an hour later, excitedly tapping her spoon against the tall glass of her half-finished parfait. “I finally realized, you don’t even have to be at level thirty to beat him! All you need is the Sword of Aoba and at least three healing potions, and it’s just enough to scrape by! I went up a level,” she finishes, puffing out her chest with pride.

Daichi, his mouth pressed to the rim of his coffee cup, smiles. “The Sword of Aoba is difficult to get hold of, though. You need to be at least level fifty to unlock it.”

“Ahh, I got lucky!” She beams. “I met a level fifty-five knight who let me borrow his. All I had to do was trade one of my advanced healing potions. He wanted to use it on his friend who was about to die.”

She smiles, remembering grandking and sirhajime fondly. They were funny, and apparently close friends from offline who had started playing together.

“I can contact him, if you’d ever like to use it!” she offers, cheerfully. “He says I can message him any time I need help.”

“Hey, now. Don’t suddenly decide to switch guilds or anything,” Sawamura jokes.

“I would never! I love the Black Crows! And, you know, I think we’ve got a pretty great leader, too.”

Daichi immediately looks flattered by her compliment, even a bit shy. Yui thinks that’s silly, because she hadn’t said it simply to flatter; she really, truly meant it. She hasn’t been playing very long—just since her little cousin had shown her the game during the last Christmas family reunion—but she’s heard the Crows weren’t nearly so unified or amiable until Sawamura had come along and become the elected leader. She had heard from Ennoshita how all the inter-guild fighting had stressed him out and made the game less fun, and he had even almost quit for good until Sawamura had messaged him privately one day and promised to make things better—and he had. Yui had joined their party already respecting Sawamura as a great leader, and that respect has only grown since.

She tells him as much. “It’s like you were made to be a leader. I don’t know if I would have kept playing as long as I have if you weren’t around to teach me and talk strategy with me, all those times I kept dying in the beginning.”

Sawamura rubs his neck again. Maybe a nervous habit? “You hardly need my help anymore.”

“But I like knowing that you’ll always be there, if I need you.” She beams at him again, as brightly as she can. “Let’s both keep playing for a long time!”

Sawamura relaxes in the face of her sunny smile, eventually dissolving into a quiet chuckle. “I’m glad you’re as cheerful offline as you are in the game, Michimiya. Being around you always feels good. I’m glad it’s not just an online personality.”

“Wha—!” Yui’s face feels hot and aflame. She thinks her heart might suddenly be racing a mile per minute. “Sawamura!”

“Let’s keep meeting like this,” he suggests, with an easy, handsome grin. “Maybe we can even play together sometime.”

Mao would tell her that’s not such a good idea, that she shouldn’t be getting cozy with internet-folk-slash-possible-perverts and certainly not following them to secluded places. There’s also the fact that Yui’s suddenly struggling to even breathe around Sawamura, whose smile reminds her of hot cocoa and teddy bears. She’s always had a tiny bit of a crush on him, and it’s grown exponentially in the short time they’ve met in person. She doesn’t want that to possibly ruin the game, her only stress relief after hectic work days and terrible blind dates and other general life disappointments.

But being around Sawamura could never be a bad choice, she thinks. He was strong and reliable, and it wasn’t just an online personality for him, either.

In the end, Yui smiles. “I’d really like that.”

[hanscom]

💙+ Timer

Twenty two days. Six hours. Forty three minutes. Nine seconds.

Twenty two days. Six hours. Forty three minutes. Eight seconds.

Twenty two days. Six hours. Forty three minutes. Seven seconds.

“Mr. Kaspbrak!”

Eddie jumps. He jerks straight up in his seat, then slumps down again when he realizes everyone is staring at him. Mrs. Hawkins is leading the charge, peering down her beakish nose at him, her eyes small and shrewd. “Do you plan to pay attention to my lesson?” she demands. “Or do I have to take away your watch?”

Eddie automatically covers his watch with his hand, shielding the face from view. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Hawkins,” he mutters dutifully. He keeps his watch protectively hidden until she looks away, and even then he puts his hands in his lap, under the table, out of sight.

He can’t resist giving the clock mounted on the wall above her head one last, fervent glance.

Twenty two days. Six hours. Forty one minutes. Thirty six seconds.

–

Watches are government-issued. Everyone is assigned one at birth, but you’re not eligible to obtain it until you’re at least thirteen. It’s one of those weird, arbitrary American laws, like how you can join the military at eighteen but can’t have a beer until you’re twenty one. No one really knows why it’s that way. Maybe the government doesn’t want you to spend your formative years pining for something that might not happen for years. That would make sense. Eddie got his watch on his fifteenth birthday and he’s only been waiting a year, but sometimes it already feels like it’s been a thousand.

He was the second one of his friends to get one, and the fourth overall. Bill got his first, the leader as always, on his thirteenth birthday. Twelve years, his watch had said, so far off it hadn’t even said anything about months or days or seconds. It had been disappointing in some strange way, because twelve years felt like an entire lifetime, but it was also thrilling to know that it was real, that someone was out there waiting and wanting.

He hadn’t missed the way Bill had looked the slightest bit jealous, though, when he had unboxed his own watch and his timer had only said one year, seven months, sixteen days.

And then Bev had gotten hers, and the timer had already been zeroed out. She and Ben had shared a shy, private glance, and the rest of them had quickly figured it out. Bev had kissed Ben. Ben was Bev’s soulmate. It had all been confirmed when Ben had gotten his own blank watch two weeks later.

That’s how it works. The timer isn’t counting down the minutes until you meet your soulmate. That would be too easy. No, the timer ticks down and down and down, and when it finally, finally clicks to zero, you’re kissing the person you’re meant to be with. True love’s kiss, right? Eddie personally thinks the government has watched too many Disney movies, but he still stares at the face of his watch more often than not, counting down the seconds.

He has no idea who his soulmate might be. Probably someone from Derry, given that he only has a few weeks left to wait. It could be anyone. Not Bill, of course, and certainly not Ben, but maybe one of the other Losers. Maybe Stan, or Mike. Maybe Richie.

Eddie doesn’t allow himself to hope. But…

It’s not altogether that likely that it’s one of his friends. There are plenty of people who don’t have soulmates yet. Many of them don’t even have their watch. It’s expensive to get one. A lot of people can’t afford it, like Stan and Mike.

And some people just aren’t interested. Like Richie. “I don’t need a stupid watch to tell me I enjoyed a kiss,” he says whenever he’s asked. “My dick can tell just fine.” He’ll grab his crotch and say, “It’s never steered me wrong before.” And then the conversation will end, because everyone knows Richie is relentless about dick jokes and it’s best if they stop it before it really starts.

Eddie wonders, sometimes, if Richie really has kissed anyone before, the way he claims he has. Does he press his mouth against theirs, hoping their watch would zero out and start to beep? Or does he really not care?

Eddie can’t imagine not caring. He cares a whole fucking lot.

–

Those last twenty two days don’t pass quickly, but they do eventually pass.

One hour. Twenty six minutes. Thirteen seconds.

He’s standing in front of his bathroom mirror, fucking with his hair. There’s a party tonight. Eddie isn’t normally much of a party-goer, but this is it. This is the night. His soulmate is going to be at that party, and Eddie is going to be kissed by him. The thought makes goosebumps rise all up and down his arms. He’s so excited he’s shaking.

Richie’s supposed to pick him up. Well, actually, Bill was supposed to be their designated driver, but his car is a piece of shit and no one trusts the chhht-chhht-chhht sound it makes, so Ben is stuffing Bev and Bill and Mike and Stan in his tiny two-door sedan. Richie, who just crested six-foot with no signs of stopping, and Eddie, who can’t stand to breathe in the shared air of that many people, elected to drive themselves. Well, Eddie elected to make Richie drive. He doesn’t have his own car. Richie’s truck is a piece of junk, but he’s slowly fixing her up with the money he didn’t spend on a watch. Eddie’s been helping him. He’s kind of proud of the progress they’ve made. Her brakes don’t even squeak that bad anymore, and she’s only rusted in a few small places.

Still, Eddie can hear her from a block away, rumbling down his street. He rushes down the stairs, calls goodbye to his mother, and books it to the end of the driveway before she can catch him. He didn’t exactly get her permission to go out, but she probably won’t be too mad as long as he gets home before curfew.

He flings himself into the passenger side and Richie slams on the accelerator before he’s even fully inside, like he’s afraid they’re being chased. As if Eddie’s mother could peel herself out of her armchair that fast. Still, it’s sort of exhilarating. The driver’s side window is down and the wind whips the hair that Eddie spent so long perfecting, but it’s worth it because Richie has his music turned up way too high and he smiles over at Eddie and the minutes on Eddie’s watch are ticking down and Eddie feels alive.

The party is at Sheridan Keener’s house in the good part of town, and the streets are already lined with cars. Richie eases his truck in behind an ugly brownish-orange Toyota that Eddie sort of recognizes from the student lot. He cuts the engine, and though faint music pulses from the Keener house, it’s suddenly very quiet without Richie’s music blasting.

“Well,” Richie says, and he fishes a cigarette out of his pocket. It’s a little crumpled but it lights up just fine. “Tonight’s the night.” He looks at Eddie’s watch out of the corner of his eye.

Hope it’s not you if you’re gonna taste like ash, Eddie wants to say, but he doesn’t. It’s a bad joke. Instead, he hums an agreement and gets out of the car. They walk together to the door, and then Richie tosses his cigarette into the shrubbery and Eddie lets him into the house and they’re swept into the foyer, greeted by throbbing music and the sharp smell of alcohol and the dim buzz of a hundred different conversations.

They get separated at some point, but Eddie tries not to notice. He waves at Ben from across the room, who points at his wrist and then gives Eddie a thumbs-up. He’s not the only one who’s been counting down. His friends are all excited for him. He wonders if they feel nauseous at all, the way he does.

After awhile, he goes into the kitchen to make a drink. A few people are standing around, including a cute boy standing alone in the corner, sipping from a solo cup. Eddie’s heart stops, then starts pounding. That’s him.

But, no. It’s too early. He still has thirty-four minutes.

Then again, it’s not like Eddie was going to just walk up and plant one on him. Maybe he’s supposed to start a conversation. Maybe it’ll go well, and they’ll end up in some private room upstairs, leaning closer and closer, their lips about to brush…

A girl comes into the kitchen. The boy looks up, sees her, and smiles. He’s even more handsome when he smiles, but Eddie has to look away when he drags the girl in for a kiss.

Not him, then.

It’s awful at first, and then it’s downright agonizing. He keeps looking around the room, trying to determine which of these people might be the person his soul was made for. Nobody stands out in particular. The only people Eddie really notices are his friends. Stan is on the couch, holding Bev’s drink so she can arm-wrestle Mike over the coffee table. He lets her win, and they all laugh about it. Eddie is smiling to himself when Richie suddenly appears at his elbow.

“Having fun?” he asks, leaning close to be heard over the music.

“Sure,” Eddie says, noncommittal. He hasn’t talked to a single person. Seventeen minutes. He’s starting to get nervous.

Richie elbows him gently. “Stop thinking so hard,” he says. “Just let it happen.”

Like Eddie has any other choice. The clock is ticking down, whether he wants it to or not.

Richie rolls his eyes, apparently not satisfied by whatever expression is on Eddie’s face. “Come on,” he says, and slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “Let’s find something to take your mind off it.”

“Good luck,” Eddie mutters, but he goes where Richie leads him, same way he always does.

They end up in the basement, which is an entirely different atmosphere than the living room. It’s quiet down here, and hazy. This is where all the stoners go to toke, Eddie realizes, and he almost turns right back around but, well. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. It would certainly calm his nerves.

But Richie doesn’t pull out a joint like Eddie expects. Instead, he guides Eddie into the middle of the room, where a loose circle of people have gathered. Eddie recognizes some of them, but most of them are strangers. Richie sits down like he owns the place, though, his sprawling legs taking up too much room. Eddie sits across from him, leaving enough space in middle of the lazy circle for the small glass bottle sitting there.

Just as Eddie settles in, a pretty blonde girl reaches out and spins it. It whirls around several times, making a horrible racket against the concrete floor, but then finally starts to settle. It eventually stops, the neck pointed at a black-haired boy, his eyes so heavy they almost look closed. He perks up a little when the girl climbs into his lap, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

Eddie realizes all at once what’s going on.

He glares at Richie. Richie smirks back. Of course he does. He’s an asshole.

Eddie should leave. He should get up and walk out. His first kiss shouldn’t be like this, because of some stupid game with a bunch of strangers that stink like pot. But…

Well, his soulmate is probably in this circle. That’s why he’s here, right? He’s going to spin the bottle, and it’s going to land on someone, and they’re going to kiss, and his watch is going to start beeping.

He glances at it. Nine minutes. His heart pounds.

The black-haired boy spins the bottle, and it lands on a redhead Eddie recognizes from his history class. She wipes her mouth after the boy kisses her, then spins for herself. The bottle points at a brunette girl and both of them giggle before they kiss each other on the cheek. Then the brunette spins and it lands on a boy wearing a backwards baseball cap.

It goes like this for some time. Eddie pretends to watch the game, but for the most part, he stares at his watch. Six minutes. Five minutes. Four minutes.

The pretty blonde who started the game kisses one of the other girls. The boys cheer for them, and the blonde draws away looking satisfied by the attention. She spins, and then the bottle lands on Richie.

Eddie stops staring at his watch.

She smiles at Richie, and he grins back at her. She scoots close to him and leans in, her hair falling almost like a curtain around their faces, but Eddie can just make out the way Richie dodges at the last second and kisses her cheek instead. Something unravels in his chest. He doesn’t know why it matters, but somehow, it does.

Richie spins and lands on Evan, a guy from Eddie’s homeroom. Richie grins, hooks his arm around Evan’s neck, and drags him in so he can plant a sloppy kiss on Evan’s forehead. Evan shoves him away, but he’s laughing about it.

Then he takes the bottle in his hand and spins it.

It lands on Eddie.

Eddie’s heart stops. He doesn’t have to look at his watch to know there’s only a couple minutes left. Is this it? Is Evan his soulmate? He tries to picture it, but for some reason, he can’t. It’s probably because he’s said maybe six words to Evan all year. Will that change, once they’ve kissed? It will have to, right? You have to be able to talk to your soulmate. What’s the point, otherwise?

But then Evan leans forward, quickly kisses Eddie’s cheek, and falls back into his place in the circle.

Eddie’s watch doesn’t beep. He glances at it.

One minute.

This is it. Holy shit, this is it.

He reaches out with a shaking hand. Should he spin it hard, or soft? Should he try to time it right, or should he just close his eyes and hope for the best?

Should he just get up and run out before everything has a chance to change?

He spins. His eyes, without his own permission, jam closed. His stomach swoops, and his chest is tight. His mouth dries out. He can’t decide if he’s going to throw up or if he’s going to pass out. Either seems entirely likely.

The bottle slowly comes to a stop.

Eddie opens his eyes.

For a disconcerting second, he’s confused. The bottle is pointed at himself. Except… no. No it’s not. That’s the bottom of it. The top is aimed in the opposite direction, directly in front of him, at… at…

“It’s you,” Eddie realizes.

Richie, sitting across from him, looks just as surprised. His eyes are wide, made all the more huge by his glasses. But then, slowly, he smiles. “Come on, Eds,” he says, and he gets up onto his knees, shuffling forward across the circle so he’s in Eddie’s personal space. Richie looms over him, smelling like cologne and cigarettes and some of the best memories of Eddie’s life. “You don’t wanna keep fate waitin’, do you?”

And then he puts his hand on Eddie’s chin, tilts his face up, and leans down to kiss him. It’s a shallow kiss, dry and chaste, and it only lasts for a handful of seconds.

Just long enough for Eddie’s watch to zero out and start to beep.

[cassiefanfic]

Seasons Of Love

Fandom: Glee

Character/Ship: Artie Abrams x Reader, Finn Hudson, Will Schuester, Rachel Berry

Warning: Fluff

Writer: Cassie

Words: 1131

Requested by:@omgshortgiraffe

Summary: Y/N is Finn Hudson's sister, but she isn't popular. She is a quiet, shy, and extremely kind. Y/N and Artie first meet when the glee club goes to visit Carmel High (1x01) and she tags along with them. They both really like each other, but they are afraid to tell each other.

Author’s Note: Song: Seasons of Love from Rent. Vocal Range: Alto or Mezzo. C4 to E5. Occupies the lower-mid section of this range, mostly.

Y/N’s POV

“No Finn. Not gonna happen.”

“Sis, you have an amazing voice okay? And you would enjoy it. It’s singing!”

“I don’t care, Finn, I said no. N-O no.”

This has been the discussion with Finn for the past half hour. All about how I should join Glee Club and use my singing. I, of course, said no due to… conflict of interest.

“Fine. All I ask is that you come to the Carmel High Showcase with us. You’ll see what it’s like and boom, fun!” I turned to see his face had that stupid smirk on it. The smirk that I always gave in to.

“Finn Christopher Hudson if you think that face is gonna trick me into going to some showcase with you, you are sorely mistaken.” I snapped, trying to head into the kitchen but Finn reached his arm around and blocked the door.

“Oh don’t full name me Y/N. Please.” He pouted, crouching down to match my eye level. He stared at me for a bit before I finally cracked.

“Fine! Oh my god stop that it’s like you’re seeing into my mind!” I shuttered before ducking under his arm, heading into the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around me and smiled. “Aren’t you only in that club because Mr. Shue busted you with-”

“They weren’t mine!”

“Yeah right. You hungry?”

“Yeah. Sure.” He nodded before sitting on the counter. That was the night before the showcase. The next day I drove with Finn to the school and loaded onto the bus, sitting alone near the back. The perky brunette who elected herself the leader of Glee Club, Rachel Berry, walked to the back and sat next to me.

“So you’re Finn’s sister?”

I nodded, looking over at her nervously.

“Do you sing?”

“S-Sort-Sort of. I uh- kinda.”

“Are you gonna join Glee Club?”

“R-Rac-Rachel I’m just here for Finn. He asked me to come.” I said with my head down. She sighed.

“Oh come on Y/N. It’s fun!”

“If I say I’ll think about it will you please leave me alone?”

Rachel smiled happily and nodded walking to the front as we arrived at Carmel High School. We all filed in and got our snacks, Finn babbling to Rachel about Quinn and Sour Patch Kids. The kid in the wheelchair wheeled next to me and smiled.

“Hey, can you get me some of the peanut M&Ms?” He asked as he handed me $5. I nodded and walked up, placing his order of M&Ms before getting myself some popcorn and regular M&M’s. I walked over and handed him his change and bag of M&M’s with a small smile.

“Here. It was only $2.”

The lights flicker and Artie smiles. “I’m Artie by the way.”

“Y/N.” I smiled.

“Do you want to maybe sit next to me?” He asked as he began wheeling to the auditorium. I nodded and helped him to a handicapped space before sitting in the theater seat between him and Finn.

“Hey, guys, so this is supposed to be our competition, but, uh, I honestly don’t think that they’ve got the talent that we’ve got. But let’s be a good audience, all right? Give 'em some of that old McKinley High respect.” Mr. Schuester said before we sat back and watched.

“Please give a warm Buckeye State welcome to last year’s regional champions, Vocal Adrenaline!”

And we watched as all our dreams were crushed. Their performance of “Rehab” was perfect, it would’ve made Amy proud. I looked between Artie and Finn, along with the others as they were completely stunned.

“We’re d-d-doomed,” Tina whispered.

After the performance, we all walked out, me wheeling out Artie. I sighed and looked at him.

“I guess I gotta h-h-help you guy-guys,” I whispered nervously. He looked back at me and smiled, nodding.

“Yeah, I bet if you talk to Mr. Schue he’d be all for it.”

I nodded and helped him onto the bus before sitting next to him. Later when we got back I ran up to Mr. Schue and gulped.

“Mr. Schue! Mr. Schue!”

He turned and nodded. “Yeah Y/N. How can I help you?”

“I would-would like to j-join Glee,” I said as I fumbled with my hands. He nodded and led me to the choir room. He sat on his stool and I looked around, arms crossed in front of me.

“Whenever you’re ready Y/N.”

I nodded and walked to the center of the room, closing my eyes as Brad the piano guy began playing. And then I began.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets

In midnights, in cups of coffee

In inches, in miles

In laughter, in strife

In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure a year in the life

How about love?

How about love?

How about love?

Measure in love

Seasons of love

Seasons of love

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

Five hundred twenty-five thousand

Journeys to plan

I opened my eyes to see Mr. Schuster smiling as I went on.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure the life

Of a woman or a man?

In truths that she learned

Or in times that he cried

In bridges, he burned

Or the way that she died

It's time now to sing out

Tho' the story never ends

Let's celebrate

Remember a year in the life of friends

Remember the love

Remember the love

Remember the love

Measure in love

Measure, measure your life in love

Seasons of love

Seasons of love

I let out a soft breath and looked at the stunned Brad and Will.

“What’s your vocal range?” Will questioned

“A-Alto ish. I never really tested it a lot.”

“Well we are gonna work on that aren’t we?” Will stood and smiled, shaking my hand.

“I’m in?”

“Definitely. Anyone who can hit that high note is definitely in.”

I walked out to the paintball covered Finn, who smiled.

“Did you just-?”

I nodded and he hugged me tightly, picking me up and spinning us around. I laughed and held on before we got into my car and drove home. All I could really think of though was Artie, and how we could talk more. So much will happen now. All because of one song.

[killiansbutt]

Finding Firelight (Ch.3)

pairings: nalu -- mentions of albis, gajevy, gruvia words: ~4700 tagging: @culorisunet @natsusluce @siriusly-random. a/n: next update will be May 17th & Shout out to Mary and Amari for beta help!

summary: Lucy Heartfilia has a lot of reasons for attending summer camp, but getting spooked by campfire stories and falling in love with her best friend isn’t one of them. modern summer camp au. 

[one][two]

three:

"There's something magical about the camp, I just knew it the moment that I arrived," Layla said with a dreamy sigh, her fragile frame nearly swallowed up in her many blankets as a six-year-old Lucy sat patiently on the bed beside her. Her mama went through bouts of illness and this was the first time that a small, teary-eyed Lucy had seen her mother sick enough to be confined to her bed for the better part of a week.

No tears crossed Lucy’s eyes though. Instead, her entire being brimmed with happiness as she listened to her mother’s tale. Her mother’s eyes closed as the story ended, a small breath escaping her as she fought against medicine induced sleepiness.

Lucy hesitated, afraid of waking her, but a question burned on her lips, "What does magic feel like?" 

Layla’s eyes opened slowly. "It..." Her lips twitched, smiling softly. Her hand went to Lucy’s head, stroking her daughter’s short, blonde hair. Lucy leaned into her hand, smiling brightly at her mama’s warm touch; it was the closest thing to a hug that Lucy had gotten in weeks while Layla fought a nasty illness. "Magic is something you feel here. In your heart.”

Lucy frowned, pressing a hand to her chest where she vaguely knew her heart resided. “Like love?”

“Exactly like that, little one.”

“Will I feel it when I go there, mama?” A vision of dragons and magic sword fights flashed through her mind, bringing a delighted giggle to her lips.

“Only if you let it.” Layla smiled, guessing what her daughter thought with stunning accuracy. Lucy’s emotions had always played across her face, something Layla would comment for years to come. “It’s not magic like wizards and witches, it won’t grant you magic powers.”

“That would be fun though!”

“Indeed, it would! But this is different. Don’t shy away from it, Lucy, and you’ll find it.”

Lucy didn't quite understand, but her mama never lied. "Okay, mama."

“Lucy…”

“Lucy…”

“Lucy!”

Lucy’s jaw cracked as she yawned, trying to shy away from the hand on her shoulder and fall back into her dream. It had been a pleasant one, where her mother had spent hours telling Lucy stories despite Jude’s demands for Layla to rest.

Someone shook her harder and the soft smile on Layla’s face faded into her memory when Lucy snapped awake, narrowly avoiding a collision course with Erza’s head as she sat up in her bunk. “Erza? What are you doing? It’s… so early.”

Erza sighed. “Did you forget your punishment?”

Memories from yesterday flooded through her and she gulped back her righteous anger, knowing that further argument would be a waste of breath. While Erza believed that Lucy hadn’t swum to the docks, her fleeing along with Natsu had painted her as an accomplice, leaving Erza with no choice but to punish Lucy as well.

“Right,” Lucy replied gruffly, swinging her legs out of the bunk and stretching. Erza waited for her, looking sympathetic and resigned, while Lucy wiggled on an old pink skirt and a red shirt.

“Wear your hair up,” Erza instructed, offering a red hair tie. Lucy smiled thankfully, pulling her hair back and tying it tightly; it would give her a headache later, but she didn’t want to constantly fidget with it for the day.  

“What are we doing?” She wondered aloud, but Erza reminded quiet, merely escorting her out the door.

Erza led Lucy to the lake of the camp, where she could see the other three boys rubbing their eyes sleepily. Natsu stared directly into the sun, half asleep, eyes somehow perfectly alright despite the agony. He woke when the two girls approached them and tilted his head to face them as their boots crunched in the grass.

“Everyone here?” Erza asked with her hands on her hips and face blank.

“…Yes?” Lucy replied, looking from Gray, Gajeel, and Natsu to Erza then back again, wondering if somebody else had been racing with them that Lucy had missed. Would the others be considered accomplices for not stopping them, too?

“Aye,” Natsu muttered, arms crossed.

“Gajeel, Lucy – the two of you are preparing the arts cabin for the kids to come in after breakfast. Here’s a list of what you need to prepare and here’s what you need to hide,” Erza instructed, passing over two yellow pieces of paper. Lucy cheered silently, accepting one of the papers while Gajeel took the other, relieved that they would be inside and doing a relatively painless task. If anything, they would be done in a few minutes! How was this even a punishment? Lucy would have volunteered to do it without any coercion.

Erza continued. “You’ll also have to clean up from yesterday. Mirajane fell ill before she could continue after the kids so I’m not sure what you’ll be walking into there, her sessions are always entertaining.”

Lucy - who had only seen the aftermath of one of Mirajane’s art sessions - made a face, but wisely stayed silent. The fair-haired counselor was particularly sensitive to comments against what she considered good ideas, something Lucy only figured out yesterday when Makarov had elected Erza to delegate punishment on them. Lucy didn’t know what he had said that set Mirajane off, but she had left in tears while Erza berated the camp leader.

“Gray, Natsu – here’s some trash bags and gloves. Gildarts’ group went a little crazy at their bonfire and made a mess of their area. You’re to pick it all up then empty the trashes into the dumpsters over there. I expect the area to be spotless or else.”

Natsu and Gray blanched. Nobody knew what happened in Gildarts’ group; it was loud and rambunctious, but only a select few were invited over there, the rest delegated between the other campers. Rumors said it was because Gildarts was the only one who could handle them, but she knew the boy named Alzack was there and nothing Bisca or Natsu said about him seemed difficult enough to warrant Gildarts’ attention.

Either way, Gildarts often had the best bonfires; one that regularly made such a mess that his group had to wake early to clean it up because doing so at night would only lead to be a bigger mess.

“That’s cruel and unusual punishment,” Lucy noted while Gajeel sniggered.

Erza ignored her thankfully. “Breakfast break in an hour. I’ll check on you periodically so you better be working. The faster you do this, the faster you can get out of here. Everyone know what they are doing?”

“Aye,” they chorused quietly.

“Onwards then!” Erza marched off to the docks, doing whatever else she did in her free time.

Gray and Natsu pulled on gloves and grabbed a trash bag, marching off in a flurry of muttered threats. Lucy giggled, hands clasped behind her back, grateful that she hadn’t gotten that punishment, as she followed Gajeel. She didn’t remember where the arts cabin was, but he seemed to know where they were going and led her between two cabins, obnoxious snores drifting out of the windows. It was only when they were in a deserted portion of camp that Lucy remembered she knew nothing about Gajeel.

“Uhm, so, is this your first time at camp?” Lucy asked, studying his face. His piercings made her think that he would be threatening – scratch that, everything about his face read dangerous and she shifted on her feet, fearful, till he gave a bark of laughter. It didn’t settle her nerves, but he sent her an amused look after that made her feel slightly better.

“Nah, been here a few years, just not as long as those two.” He jutted his chin towards Gray and Natsu ---- or where she assumed they would be. Then he pointed ahead to a plain cabin; the only difference between it and every other cabin was the colorful door, where a rainbow of handprints decorated the exterior. “Cabins up here, they keep it away from the bonfires. Safety reasons or some shit.”

“Lots of things in there that could go up in flame easily,” she mused.

“It’s wood. This whole damn place is flammable. Nah, I just don’t think they want to lose the door. Damn thing has been around here longer than anyone, think this is the oldest cabin here.”

Lucy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“End of the summer, everybody paints their hand and slaps the door like this is some sort of good luck ritual. Some sentimental bullshit about the camp living in our hearts, Gramps likes that mentality a lot. Everyone here does.”

Lucy bit her lip, eyeing the door with interest as they approached it, but she couldn’t see more than a few handprints before Gajeel was pulling it open. “You don’t believe in that?”

“Even if I did, this isn’t a musical. Don’t think we need a lecture about it every year.”

“Ever think it’s not just for you?” She asked sarcastically, vaguely recalling Makarov’s speech a few days ago about the friendships that lived on in the camp. It was the sort of cliché speech someone would expect from a summer camp, really, so Lucy had tuned it out, too lost in thought to remember the entire thing.

Gajeel didn’t get a chance to respond as both their mouths dropped open.

The cabin was a wreck; streams were tossed about the room as though someone had played catch and a flurry of papers were stacked precariously on the table, coated in the aftermath of a glitter bomb that spilled slowly and steadily to the floor. A pair of scissors were stabbed suspiciously into the table, impressive in its own right when Lucy couldn’t even pull it out. Someone had left a tray of crayons in the window sill, leaving behind a pool of melted rainbow colored wax.

“…How do you even make this mess? What were they doing?” Lucy cried out, running a hand over her face only half an hour later, having finally finished separating the papers by color as required and swept up the glitter. …Well, enough that it wasn’t obvious that someone had a glitter fight in the cabin. She didn’t think the room would ever stop sparkling.

Gajeel shrugged, batting a stream that fell from the roof to land on his head. It clattered on the floor noisily and he stooped to pick it up, tying the stream off to keep it from unrolling and tossing it across the room. Lucy rolled her eyes, ignoring the mess he was only encouraging. It arched and with a thud landed in the small, thin basket that held the other streamers.

“That was a lot of precise aiming for something that could be done in a few seconds,” Lucy noted when he did it a third time.

“There’s a game after breakfast, I can’t practice because of this,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Lucy snorted and he glared at her. They had only known each other for a little while, but Lucy could see that he didn’t often allow himself to just have fun. He seemed the type that broke down walls with a single kick or stole candy from children. He did little to discourage it with his glares, too, but Lucy could already tell that he was just acting like a grumpy old cat.

A grumpy old cat perfectly capable of tying Lucy into a knot, so she didn’t point this out to him.

The front room was cleaned up a few minutes before the chatter of some campers reminded them of breakfast. Lucy stretched her arms above her head till there was a pleasant crack and then she dropped them. “C’mon, let’s go! I hope they still have some peach oatmeal,” Lucy said, rocking on her feet, waiting for the taller man.

“Tch, get there before Salamander then, he could probably eat a horse right now.”

“He uses up a lot of energy being Natsu,” Lucy defended him as they left the cabin, the door closing behind them with a snap.

Most of the camp was still asleep, only some getting ready for morning hikes and some abnormally early birds wandering around. Lucy picked from the first batch of food, eating her food slowly as she waited for Natsu and Gray to show up for their breakfast. Gajeel finished his within a few bites, standing up to get seconds before Lucy was even halfway done with hers; his appetite was second only to Natsu, which made her think it was a genetics thing.

Gajeel finished his seconds, starting his thirds as Lucy finished her first bowl of oatmeal, and still there was no sign of Natsu.

“Where’d they go?”

Gajeel shrugged, unconcerned, staring off into the distance.

Lucy sighed when he finished, knowing they couldn’t delay any longer as their deadline approached. Maybe they had too much to do before breakfast to even consider taking a break. Yet, she knew it was unlikely for Natsu to skip breakfast either. Breakfast was his favorite meal of the day and he loved it – right up there with lunch and dinner. She played with her water bottle as they began their trek back to the arts cabin.

They only got a few steps before they were ambushed by an irritated Erza, dragging Gray and Natsu with her by the backs of their apparently sturdy shirts and dropping them to the ground. Both of their faces were bruised and cut; a knot was forming on Natsu’s forehead as though he had impacted something hard.

“Natsu!” Lucy crouched over him, biting her lip at the various bruises on his face. “What happened?”

“Best friends fight, Lucy, it happens.” Erza said, scratching her nose as Lucy kneeled beside her downed friend. There was an identical knot on Gray’s forehead and she guessed that meant the ‘something’ Natsu had hit was Gray’s head.

Lucy huffed, her worry dissipating. It wasn’t unusual for Gray and Natsu to fly off the handle and start brawls that involved the whole camp, but she thought they would be smart enough to wait till after their punishment to start another. Nonetheless she brushed his pink hair away from his forehead with gentleness, pausing when she felt him shift, eyes blinking up blearily before they settled on her. He grinned, canines flashing, and Lucy rolled her eyes while tapping his forehead.  

Erza didn’t notice him wake up, arms crossed and still speaking. “I thought it would be best for them to work together since Gajeel and Natsu fight too much to be left alone and Natsu wouldn’t consider time with you as a punishment. But I don’t tolerate fighting and they need to be separated before I have to intervene again. When they wake, we’re switching the groups.”

“Umm…” Lucy said, frowning. Natsu wouldn’t really work in the arts room, he would probably cause a mess while they were setting up things for the kids that would come in.

“Lucy, you’ll trade with Gray. He’ll help Gajeel and you’ll help Natsu with picking up trash.”

Her mouth dropped open. “What? No! Erza!”

“Sorry, Lucy,” she said, sincerely. Gajeel watched without much interest. “But I don’t have a choice. They should be almost done anyway.”

“Why can’t we just be done then?”

Erza blinked. “Lucy, we can’t just not finish a job.”

“But…” Lucy rubbed her forehead, nose wrinkling in disgust.

“It’ll be fine, Lucy, it’s not that bad,” Natsu told her, announcing his wakefulness by sitting up, rubbing his jaw where a bruise was starting to form. She winced for him, pulling his hand away to press her water bottle against the bruise carefully. It wasn’t cold, but it was cool enough that she thought it would soothe the ache.

“You’re dumb,” she told him, holding it in place.

“That’s not nice or true.”

Lucy shook her head. “Facts are generally not nice, but even you can’t deny that fighting Gray right now is a stupid idea. Do you want to be left picking up trash for the rest of your time at camp? Erza might actually do that. Then what would I do?”

His nose wrinkled and Lucy knew that meant ‘no’. The triumphant look on her face made him laugh. “You’d be fine without me.” Natsu paused thoughtfully then said, voice low, “I could handle it, you know, you don’t have to suffer with me.”

She tapped his forehead, not pointing out that Erza – who always seemed to hear when mischief was happening – wouldn’t have allowed it anyway. “It’s fine, it’s always more fun when we’re together anyway. Just don’t do it again, I’m only picking up trash for you once.”

Natsu didn’t speak for a long moment, enough that Lucy began to wonder if she had said something wrong. She was being truthful – she hated punishments and she hated picking up trash, but time with Natsu wasn’t exactly a punishment to her. Erza had said it about Natsu, but she wondered if Erza knew that it applied to Lucy as well. After all, this was her best friend, the one who had helped her in the weeks following Layla’s death, and picking up trash with him wasn’t a hardship to do in return; it hardly compared, really, to what he did for her in those weeks or the ones that followed.

But friendship was new to her. As new as the camp. Was admitting such a thing abnormal to confess? Was her rejection of his offer – sweet as it was that he would take the brunt of trash picking for her – similar to slapping him? Lucy didn’t know and she didn’t know how to begin figuring it out either.

Lucy chewed her lip.

“Alright,” said Natsu finally, standing up and holding his hand out for her. Lucy looked up at him, noticing that Erza and a waking Gray watched them with interest. His fingers wiggled, a boyish smile crossing his face. “Guess we can suffer together.”

“It can’t be all that bad,” she replied, accepting his hand; his warm fingers clasped hers and he drew her to her feet with a single tug. Well prepared for his strength, Lucy didn’t stumble, though her hand tightened a fraction around his.

At her words, he rubbed the back of his head with his free hand. “Well…”  

…

It was worse. Far worse. She didn’t even know people could make such an immense mess in one night; it was as though Gildarts had thrown a nonstop party with a hundred people in attendance rather than the ten or so people in his group. Lucy didn’t want to imagine how horrible it must have been before Gray and Natsu started; if this was how it looked after those boys cleaning for an hour, she could only imagine how it looked before.

With her rising disgust, Lucy’s determination dwindled.

“I still don’t see how I got dragged into this punishment,” Lucy grumbled, tossing trash into a bag with a wrinkled nose. “I wasn’t even the one swimming.” Mainly because she couldn’t, but Natsu didn’t need to know about that particular weakness.

Natsu grumbled, his scarf wrapped around his face to keep the offensive odor of the trash away from his sensitive nose. Though his words were muffled, Lucy could make out his bitter remarks and she scoffed, stepping around him when he jabbed a piece of paper with his stick.

“You’re the one who started this,” she pointed out unhappily, holding her breath as she tied off her garbage bag.

He scowled, hefting his bag and then hers into the dumpster. It was their second bag each and Lucy thought they were close to being done since the bonfire was starting to look like an actual place again. Only a little straightening up and they would be done.

They hurried away from the dumpster and once they were far enough away, she let out a breath, relieved to gasp in clean, fresh air. Natsu did a little jump to her amusement, garnering a dirty look and then a question. He repeated it twice, seeming amused by her inability to hear him through his scarf, before she understood.

“I don’t know, she said we needed to be done before breakfast finished.”

Natsu shrugged and lowered his scarf, ignoring her squawk of protest. His eyes lifted to the sky, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun when he spotted it through a pair of trees. “It should be done, we could probably go now,” he said hopefully. “C’mon, Lucy, I’m hungry, let’s go before everyone finishes off breakfast. We’re practically done here anyway, Gildarts’ can straighten it out when he gets here.”

“Do you really want to risk Erza finding out we left early? No, we’re going to finish this already so she doesn’t have a reason to get mad at us again.” Then, lower, she grumbled bitterly, “We already missed the hiking, Natsu Dragneel, we have nothing else to do.” It had started fifteen minutes ago, the hiking group shooting them pitying looks as they passed. How was it that she had been at camp for six whole days and done nothing? Sure, she enjoyed the welcoming feast and the bonfires, but the rest of the days were spent swimming related activities -- of which Lucy couldn’t even participate in -- or hikes beyond her skill level.

She couldn’t even finish her mission, just one dead end after another. As much as Lucy loved the camp, she hadn’t found anything that really reminded her of Layla. It was like… she was missing something, but she couldn’t tell what. What about this place had attracted Layla enough that she remembered it years later? It was silly to think a hike would offer her any insight, but Lucy wouldn’t know if she didn’t try everything.

Now she couldn’t even go hiking till tomorrow and that meant another night of awful sleep. She kicked at a rock, watching it skid across the floor and crack against a boulder around the bonfire.

“The hike for babies anyway,” Natsu scoffed. “We need to go on a real hike and those start tomorrow.”

She pouted. “I’m not a baby, I just don’t go on hikes like you do. I’ll work my way up to the harder stuff.”

“You don’t learn by starting out small like that! It’s better to jump straight into it, learn as you go along with it. It’s like jumping into the lake! You go one foot at a time, you’ll become like Popsicle Princess.”

Lucy stared, dumbfounded. Partially because she hadn’t ever jumped in a lake so she didn’t know the difference, but mainly because his theory sounded ridiculous. “What? That makes no sense!”

“It makes perfect sense, you’re just missing it.”

“I don’t miss anything; my intelligence is vast.”

“Doesn’t matter how intelligent you are if your reflexes are slow,” he said, raising his brow.

Lucy seethed. “What do you know?”

“Enough.”

“Well, you don’t! My reflexes are fine!”

“Prove it.”

“Fine! Let’s go join the game that Gajeel was talking about, I’ll show you!”

With a sarcastic bow, Natsu gestured her forward. “Lead the way.”

She stomped away, fuming. Sure, Lucy wasn’t the most athletically inclined person; if her time wasn’t spent on the lessons her parents required of her, she preferred to read and write, but Lucy had learned archery from Sagittarius when she was twelve, self-defense from her Uncle Capricorn when she was fifteen, and juggling from Virgo just last year to entertain her sick mother. Just an hour, once a week – enough that Lucy could easily win at a stupid ball game and prove her reflexes were up to par.

She missed the victorious grin that crossed his face as he followed behind her.

…

Lucy approached the benches where Natsu sat, his face blank as he munched on an apple. His eyes only drifted to her when she dropped breathlessly down beside him. Her blood was still pumping, a roar in her ears. She smiled smugly at him. “And you doubted me?” she asked as the game began to wind down around them after her score-winning catch in the outfields knocked the other team out of the game.

They had been playing for close to two hours, maybe more, and Lucy’s heart was still racing from the joy of it.

They had tried to take it easy on her since she was the only girl playing and Lucy had wiped the floor with them all without even batting once.

“Knew you were going to win. If Cana was around, I would have put jewel on it,” Natsu said, tossing his apple core into a nearby trashcan. He wound an arm around her shoulder with a laugh. “You showed them, look at his face.” He pointed at one of the boys with long brown hair and dog-like look on his face as he kicked the grass.

“I can’t hear him,” Lucy said, watching the boy’s lips moving with the ferocity of his anger. Too much over a silly ball game.

Natsu tilted his head and she stayed quiet. His senses were always a tad better than hers – more than a tad, really – and she didn’t want to distract him from the idle gossip. His arm was still around her shoulder and she relaxed into him, finding the rush of her game fading with each passing second. “He’s complaining about how his sock went missing in the wash last time he was at camp,” Natsu explained, snorting.

“What? Why?”

“Don’t know. That one is telling him to stop shouting about it though.” The second boy was shorter than the rest of his group with large, bushy eyebrows.

“Who are they anyway?” She recognized them from the cafeteria. They were just another unknown in a sea of vague faces.

Natsu indicated a haughty, white-haired boy. “That one is Gray’s brother, but I don’t know the rest.”

“I didn’t know he had a brother.”

“Would you want to admit that Gray was your brother?” He asked skeptically. She elbowed him, laughing. “They don’t get along, no surprise there. Lyon is good at baseball though. If you lost to anyone, I thought it would be him.”

“I didn’t though.” She demolished him when she caught his almost game winning hit. Had I missed, his team would have won. His team might have lost, but they had played fiercely and it was only through slim luck that Lucy’s had won.

“Those lessons paid off then.”

“Lessons?”

“Well, you know how to juggle, don’t you? You have to know how to catch to do that probably,” he told her, shrugging. “I figured that would put you on par with the rest of these ones here, but you did better than even I thought. Even Gajeel is impressed.”  

Gajeel was one of the people on her team and there was absolutely nothing in his face that suggested he thought she had played well. She would trust that Natsu knew him enough to tell. Then a thought occurred and she flinched, looking over at him with wide eyes.

“Wait a minute… you… you remembered that I wrote that?” She only told him once, months ago, during a ten facts session that he had started on accident, about learning to juggle. Not in her most recent letter, not in any sort of memorable capacity – months ago among a list of insignificant facts.

His gaze grew serious and slightly confused as though the answer to her question was fairly obvious. “I remember everything you write.”

Natsu…

She opened her mouth, unsure of what she would say, when a coughing fit overtook her. Breathless, as though she had swallowed wrong somehow, Lucy turned away from his worried face, afraid that hers had turned as pink as his hair. She took a wheezing breath, rubbing her chest, and asked without really thinking, “Then why did you challenge me?”

“You’re like Erza – you’ll do something out of spite as well. Including leave before either of us got sick from that garbage,” he explained with a grin.

“I think someone could make some ethical complaints about that,” she complained, taking a deep breath as her lungs recovered. Her grew redder and she ducked her head. How pathetic, she thought. A boy expressed… something in her and she nearly choked on pure air.  

“Maybe. Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “It worked out though and it made up for missing the hike, right?”

Lucy thought carefully. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I think you’re right,” she said, smiling brightly.

[kerie-prince]

Spring - 1

(photo not mine)

A/N: You waited forever for this jdfdbf  so what I’m gonna do is I’m gonna write this in chapters because there’s so much to write and I didn’t know how to fit this all in one post. Anyway, I hope you like this first part! (totally inspired by Cheese In The Trap but also not)

Joshua Hong x Reader high school!au fluff (angst in later chapters)

Summary: Joshua is the picture perfect popular student. You? Eh, you were close enough. He’s nice to everyone, except you. But you can’t hold a grudge forever... can you?

Word count: 1,989

Hong Jisoo, or Joshua as he preferred.

How did he get everything you wanted effortlessly? Perfect grades, favor of the teachers, president of the student council; everything. Joshua was nice to everyone leading to be liked by everyone. There wasn’t one person you knew that could talk bad about him.

Except you.

All it took was one time. In the last year of junior high, your English teacher had paired the two of you together for some poetry assignment that had to be presented. At the start, Joshua had told you that he didn’t like the idea of partners and that you better do your work.

The entire time, you constantly argued about what to present and who would present what. You called his poem selections “lame” and he called your presentation skills “boring” and how he wanted to sleep through the whole thing. He even brought up the argument, “this is why I have better grades.”

It’s probably what the teacher gets for pairing the two top students together. When the project was done and over with, you agreed with yourself to not get acquainted with Joshua again.

No matter the amount of times he smiles at everyone, you saw him as a fake, control freak. All because of a project.

—

Spring break was over, and the senior year of high school had just started. You walked into class and waved to a few students seated around. Let’s not get distracted this year, okay Y/N? Don’t even let Joshua get to you was what you had prayed to yourself. You opened your calculus book to study before your teacher started class and felt a tap on your shoulder.

Joshua was behind with Jeonghan and Jun next to him. “Hey Y/N. Let’s get along this year, okay?” Joshua let out his hand for you to shake. Jun and Jeonghan snickered when you ignored his hand and said whatever to Joshua. He slowly retracted his hand and walked over to his seat in embarrassment.

“Alright kids, I’m sure you had a lot of fun during break, but that fun’s over when we’re in my class, understood?” your teacher announced as he walked in the classroom. He went through his bag and handed a stack of paper to a student sitting up front for her to pass out.

As the class was progressing, there was something bothering you. You shifted in your seat a little and as you turned your head, you caught Joshua staring at you. He gave a little, shy smile then continued to take notes. What does he want? you thought.

The first break came around and you went to your best friends’ class. You were sad that you had to be separated from him this year, but as long as you got to see him, it got you through the day.

Mingyu had tossed you a snack that your hands barely caught due to the surprise. “Hey Y/N. How was your smarty-pants class?” Mingyu liked to tease you for over working for everything. If it wasn’t for him, your life could have been about nothing but studying 24/7 without any fun.

“I’m in the same class with Joshua so you can imagine how I feel.” You puffed out your cheeks with an exasperated sigh. Your best friend was also another person who saw Joshua as a good person. How could he not when Joshua has actually helped Mingyu with a couple of school assignments when you were busy.

All Mingyu could really do was listen to you complain about Joshua beating you at something again. “That hyung is really nice, it still surprises me that you guys fought like that before. You sure you didn’t start it? Because you do come off as strong if I’m being honest…” his voice starts to waver as your death glare gets to him. He clears his throat and averts his eyes away.

“Anyway, maybe this year will be your year,” Mingyu nudged you with his elbow. Your mouth was filled so you just nodded your head. Not that you were going to make nice with Joshua all of a sudden, but Mingyu made you promise that you weren’t going to let him bother you for “something dumb” and to just focus on yourself.

Yeah, he’s right. It’s my last year and I have way more important things to be thinking about. I’m not going to let him have it.

And what do you know. Ever since that talk, miracles occurred left and right. For the first time in your years of high school, you were elected as class representative, received more attention from your teachers, more people coming to you for advice in school work. The best part was the thought of Joshua hasn’t bothered you one bit.

That is until…

“Okay kids, if you would all sit down,” your chemistry teacher started, “In a few weeks, we will start our group presentations.” All of the students would look around doing hand gestures to their friends in agreement that they would be together. “Now don’t get ahead of yourselves. I had pre-paired everyone in groups of three,” boos and groans are heard all around. You didn’t have anyone you could call a friend in class so it was alright with you. You just needed not to be paired with a slacker.

He listed all the groups, most of them paired with their friends in the end. Since you didn’t care about who you were assigned with, you tuned out everyone else. Which ended up being a mistake because there were a couple names you should’ve looked out for earlier.

“Y/N, I’m gonna pair you with Soonyoung,” Damn it. With him, I’ll have to do all the work you thought, “and Joshua. That’s all the groups, I suppose. If anyone’s left out, let me know and maybe I can fit you in with someone.” He sat in his desk after instructing everyone to get in their groups.

It’s over. You were told to work with two of the worst possible choices. Soonyoung, a dancer kid who dozes off sometimes; and Joshua, the number one student of your entire grade. The one who annoyed you so much about a stupid presentation four years ago.

The two grabbed chairs and sat next to you. Soonyoung, or Hoshi as he said he wanted to be called, and Joshua greeted each other as you sat in your seat looking like a brainless zombie. How bad could this get?

Hoshi cleared his throat and looked worriedly at the both of you across from him, “Um, I don’t take that many notes so I kinda don’t know what we’re doing.” Hoshi let out an awkward laugh and lowered his head. Damn it… “Don’t worry, I can always help you. You have me and Y/N, right?” Joshua patted Hoshi’s back and looked at you for reassurance.

You looked back and forth at them and told Hoshi, “as long as you present good, I don’t really care.” Something about the comment made Hoshi even more nervous. Joshua talked to him as you rested your face on your desk top. I knew things were getting too good around here.

—

For two and a half weeks, you, Joshua and Hoshi met at a café to essentially tutor Hoshi on what they were going to talk about and ideas for presentation. Speaking honestly, Hoshi was almost always late from the after-school dance club that he was the leader for, so you let it slide.

Being alone with Joshua was pretty weird, if you had to put it in words. You were quiet the whole time, working on your part of the assignment. Every now and then, Joshua would try to talk, but it would be short-lived. I just want to get this over with.

One day, Hoshi texted the both of you that he wouldn’t be able to come to school for two days due to getting sick. You shrugged your shoulders and started walking home from school. A tap on the shoulder, Joshua shyly waved at you. “Y/N, are we still going to the café? There’s still some things we need to finish,” your eyes widened. Joshua was being nice? To you? Alone?

You looked around the street and only spotted a few people. You pointed to yourself in confusion, “Me?” He gave you a reciprocal confused look while still smiling, “Is there another Y/N around?” Realizing it sounded dumb that you thought he was talking to someone else, you stood straight and dusted off some inexistent dust off your lap.

“Um, why not. We have to revise everything Hoshi gave us.”

“Great, I’ll buy for us then. Joshua started walking ahead. You shook your hands no as you stuttered in surprise, “You don’t have to do that. I have my own money.” He turned half way to face you and nature thought this was the best time to create a scenery from an anime.

You just happened to be on a street with cherry blossoms. And the wind just happened to blow some off the trees. Joshua said with the usual, nice attitude of his, “Y/N, it’s fine. Let’s go.” Over the years, you noticed he got… handsome? Wait, what am I thinking? Y/N, get a hold of yourself. Don’t fall for that smile.

Everything that you were seeing now was all so weird. It was the type of moments that you cringed watching in dramas. You walked past him quickly. Joshua walked behind you trying to catch up. You’d even hear him saying hey, wait up!

—

A man to his word, Joshua payed for your drink after 20 minutes of insisting. When he placed your cup in front of you, he sat down and grabbed his and some of Hoshi’s materials. It’s been about an hour of you two alone and Joshua still hasn’t made any remarks like how he did that one time four years ago.

Even after that time, he used to roll his eyes at you when no one was looking for a period of time. When did he stop that actually, I haven’t noticed it lately. It was weird that he was treating you like everyone else.

“Do you still hate me for that project from a while back?” Joshua was writing notes down on his notebook, but he knew you were staring at him. He figured you were thinking about something. You tried to recompose yourself and get back to work when you clicked in what he asked. “How do you know about that?”

Joshua laughed at your question, “You’re not Mingyu’s only friend, you know that? We talk sometimes.” Damn Mingyu. Your cheeks are pink in embarrassment. You lower your head and quietly say sorry. The pen in your hand returns to write then is put down again.

“Hey Joshua,” he looks up with a hm?, “why are you being nice to me?” He sat up straight and fixed his school blazer. “Y/N, we were 14 when we did that stupid project. And we passed it, too. Don’t you think that now when we’re 18, we should be focusing on more important things?”

It was weird hearing this from him because it’s the same thing Mingyu told you on the first day of the year. You suppose he’s right. It was stupid to begin with. Talking to him now, you realize that he is genuinely nice. He explained to you that the reason he was a jerk back then was because since you were as smart as he was, he wasn’t going to think it was an easy A. He knew that you two would work even harder to exceed together.

You spent three hours getting to know each other and found common interests within one another. Even though you sent Hoshi a hope you feel better text, you were happy his cold gave you the time to see why everyone likes Joshua.

Feel free to request a scenario~

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