#but I think twi would sound nice

[lu-polls]

[Poll suggested by: Anonymous]

[frostedclock-writes]

Gift Giving

Reader vs Chivalry part 6

Alastor x F! Reader

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Collab series with @cinnamon-galaxies

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Masterpost (by Cinnamon-galaxies)

The whiskey burned just right as it went down your throat and you set down the empty glass with a small sound of wood coming behind it. Soft static laughs filled your ears from next to you. Alastor was already in his second glass of the evening and you didn't see a need to stop him from actually relaxing for once. It was nice actually to see this sid of him.

Alastor adjusted his monocle, his laughter slowly dying to the deep rumble of chuckles that sounded more like the sound of a radio changing stations." It was quite a sight to behold, to tell you the truth. Rosie, bless her heart, had to replace that dress in the end. But the dinner afterwards was exquisite. "

" Seems like quite a party. " You let a smile reach your lips, " wish I could have been around to see it. Though then again maybe not.."

Husk, the ever present bartender refilled your glass with a few more knuckles of whiskey and cooked the bottle back. You gave him a smile in thanks and took the glass and brought it up to your lips. You see Alastor messing with his monocle again in your peripheral. A little click reminded you in your head. Oh right, you had nearly forgotten about it. Your hand went to you coat pocket, it still lay in its box inside. Small and elegant.

" Perhaps I'll take you to Rosie's with me next time I make a jaunt to Cannibal Town. I think you would enjoy your visit, and no need to worry, I will be with you so no sinner should bother you. " Alastor continued talking, going on about a few things in that part of town he found enjoyable.

"That would be nice, I don't think I've been to Cannibal Town before. " You let a smile test on your lips.

" Then it's settled, you can accompany me next time," Alastor swirled what remained in his glass for moment. " Rosie is a close friend of mine, should only be right of me to introduce the two of you. She is quite a character, I think you will enjoy her company as much as I. "

You messed with the box again.

You had spotted it earlier and had completely forgotten you had bought it for Alastor. You pulled it from your pocket. You debated with yourself for a moment, weither it was the right time to give it to him. No. Better give it now before you forget again.

" Here, " You say as you place the small lidded box in front of him. " I got this for you. "

Alastor stops mid-drink and looks down at the box. His smile twitched. " Oh? What is this for? I don't remember it being a holiday or my birthday. "

He slid the top of the box off and revealed a monocle chain with little bright red beads that looked like they were carved pieces of wood with a dark black chain connecting them. He closed the box up and slid it back over.

" What? Do you not like it?" You ask, a frown coming to your lips as your gift was rejected.

" I can't accept this," Alastor took another drink from his glass. " I haven't given you anything like this, and a man should be the one to gift something to the lady first, especially something as nice as this."

Your eyebrow twitched. " It's just a gift.... Take it, I know you could use it. "

Slide.

" It's too extravagant. "

Slide.

" Take it."

Slide.

"No."

Slide. Slide.

" You don't have to get me anything. Just take the damn box."

" You are one stubborn woman. " Alastor's eyes narrowed as he looked into yours unblinking.

" Says the pot to the kettle. I don't need any gifts in return, no trickster stings attached. " You huff out a breath of air and slowly slide the box back over towards him and keep your hand on the box.

" Then let me be a gentleman and accept this when I have an appropriate gift to give in return. " Alastor tried to slide the box back over, standing straighter. " I have already been scolded about that if you recall. " His eyes narrowed a bit and his smile twitched.

" No. Take it now and if it makes your panties that much in twist, get me something later!" You stand as straight S you could so you seemed taller but still had to look. Little up to meet Alastor's intense red eyes.

"Will ya just take her damn gift already?!" Husk's voice broke through the symphony of sliding and caused it to stop.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you realize your fingers were resting on top of Alastor's as you both slid the box back and forth. You pull your hand away. Alastor makes a sigh and slides the box back in front of him. His eyes held an unrecognizable emotion behind them. He opened the box back up and pulled the chain out of the box.

" Very well.. it is lovely. " Alastor finally spoke after a moment, his fingers brushed across the beads.

Husk shook his head and his ear twitched in almost irritation as he turned and began to clean a glass. He mummbled under his breath, " I swear the two of you..."

[lilacs-stars]

shattered reflections

pairing: morgie le fay x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is merlin's daughter) SUMMARY: you, the perfect child and student, have always been the epitome of righteousness. but what happens when you encounter a particularly annoying VK one night, when you're out doing something you're not supposed to? GENRE: pure, unbridled, heart-wrenching angst (I recommend a box of tissues), action scenes, some light humor, a bit of comfort, flirty banter CW: absent mother, neglectful father, family troubles, cursing, magical fighting, a bit of blood, threats, mentions of violence and stealing, heavy emotions WC: 15.2k (to those of you hungry for morgie fics…you have been fed) BACKGROUND: the mirror of ytirev is pronounced yih-tur-ev, the spells are all in latin (for anyone wondering)

A/N: this got a loooot longer and deeper than I thought it would...seriously how did we get here. I had fun adding some touches of light humor to offset the angst, and experimenting with different pov's was nice too. sooo go get comfy and settle down, and have fun reading this! (the ending is worth it I swear). thank you to the anon who requested this for all the details, I hope you enjoy! all feedback is highly appreciated, I'd love to know your thoughts and reactions!

A piercing clatter sounds from somewhere behind you. You whip around, eyes locking with snake-like slits glowing in the dark.

Shit, you think. 

They finally discovered my secret.

“…can anyone explain to me the properties of goblin mucus?” the teacher of your Magical Artifacts and Antiquities class asks.

A hand shoots up, causing a smile to spread on her face as she calls on the student—only to be met with the reply, “Miss, it says in our textbook that there’s a highly powerful and dangerous artifact stored here, in Merlin Academy. What’s that all about?”

The teacher’s smile falters for a brief second, but she answers the question regardless. “Yes, every class today has asked me about that. It seems like it’s only the dangerous objects that attract students’ attention. Class, turn to page two hundred seventy-five, where there is a more detailed explanation.”

Everyone flips through the pages of their books, more eager to learn than they’ve been for the entire lesson. Your teacher waits a moment before continuing.

“As it says in your textbooks, the Mirror of Ytirev is indeed kept in this school, although it is locked away in a very safe and secure place. For everyone’s safety, and the Mirror’s security. Now, can anyone tell me how it was created?”

You raise your hand swiftly, already knowing the answer from having read this chapter before it was even covered in class, along with the next three chapters. “After the creator of the Evil Queen’s magic mirror originally made it, he accidentally dropped it on the floor, causing it to shatter. He reconstructed the mirror using the larger shards, which became the famed mirror that eventually ended up in the hands of the Evil Queen. But there were still many miniscule fragments left from the first mirror, so he melted them again and made a smaller, weaker version of the Evil Queen's mirror. The small mirror is known today as the Mirror of Ytirev.” 

Your teacher beams again at your perfect recitation. “That is precisely correct, Y/N. Although I don’t expect anything less from the headmaster’s daughter, of course.

“This mirror has the ability to show its user exactly one truth, an answer to any question. But since its original form was shattered, its magic is no longer stable. That’s why it is covered in this chapter,” she continues to the class. “As you can see in the image in your textbook, it is a portable artifact, putting it in Category D, Type Three.”

You look down at your textbook, studying the picture of the mirror, despite having looked at it before. It depicts a vintage handheld mirror, encased in a detailed and ornate silver frame that surrounds the glass itself. The intricate carvings of the metal create symmetrical twin arches at the top of the mirror, ending in fancy loops. In these arches two bright red gemstones are set, their edges cleanly cut and shining brilliantly. The glass of the mirror looks almost cracked, although you know it isn't really.

Just as the thought passes through your mind, someone calls out, “Why is the mirror cracked? I thought the creator fixed it.”

The answer pops up in your brain before the teacher even opens her mouth, but you still patiently listen to her as she explains to the rest of the class. “It’s not really cracked, it just appears that way to anyone who looks at it. The only time someone can see the mirror’s smooth surface is if they’re staring directly in the eyes of their own reflection. When someone does this, it is rumored they will see the truest form of themselves, the truth they desire the most.”

Someone else raises their hand, and the teacher calls on them this time. “So,” they ask, “you can get the answer to anything from that? Like how to become rich or live forever?”

The teacher masks what you can tell is a rather displeased look with yet another—fake—smile. She turns to face the entire class, a telltale sign that the student said something wrong. “Now, as we all know, there’s always a price to magic. When it comes to this mirror, due to its unstable powers, there are many prices.”

She continues her lecture, one that provides you with absolutely no new information, but being the ever-diligent student you are, you continue to listen intently. “If you look at the next page, it explains that anyone who wishes to use the Mirror must first present an offering that is very dear to them. If the Mirror accepts the offering, it allows the person to ask their question.” “And if it doesn’t?” your classmate asked.

“Does anyone know the answer to that?” The teacher looks around the class, before her eyes land on you. “Y/N?”

You brighten up at being called on, before rattling off the information as if it was common knowledge. “If the Mirror doesn’t accept the offering, or if it becomes displeased for any other reason, it will drag the person’s soul not to enlightenment, but to eternal torment. They will end up losing their mind and going crazy, with any form of intelligent life getting absorbed by the Mirror.”

“Correct again,” your teacher praises, and you beam. “And if that's not enough to ward any of you off, keep in mind that everyone who has ever used the Mirror has gone completely mad. No one has ever obtained the answer they sought; instead, they were all lost to its evil spirit. And let me assure you, many people throughout history have attempted to use the Mirror, only to fail. Therefore, it was voted as too dangerous for any beneficial uses by the Department of Magical Security. That is why it is contained here, under the watchful eye of our very own Headmaster Merlin.” 

At the mention of your father, everyone turns to stare at you, as if you’re somehow the reason the Mirror is locked up. Despite the stifling moment of silence, you shrug off the unwanted attention. After all, you’re used to this. Used to the looks that other kids give you when you receive special attention from teachers for being the smartest one, for always raising your hand, for answering questions perfectly, for acing every test and having every homework assignment completed—yet refusing to share your answers (“But if I tell you the answers, how will you ever learn?”). 

Used to the whispers that follow you everywhere you go, rumors of your family life; how your mother must have left because of your father’s bad habits, or neglect, or because she was having an affair with another man. Constant reminders of the past.

Used to how everyone walks on eggshells around you, how they all put you on a ledge far away from them. How people’s conversations quiet as you pass by, afraid you’ll go and report them to your father at the slightest whiff of mischief. How they always eye you when they pass notes in class or plan a prank—as if you weren't already aware of what they were doing—sometimes even begging you not to tell on them.

Used to how teachers and adults in your life expect the absolute best of you. Even when there’s no more left of yourself to give. 

How they expect you to be the absolute best, a paragon of righteousness. You always have to determine the right decision, make the right call, be the epitome of morality and virtue. This is your burden to bear, all by yourself; instead of worries over bad grades or boys, you suffer under the crushing weight of the expectations of everyone around you. The expectations of society.

Briiiiiiingg! The sound of the bell marking the end of class snaps you out of your musings. “Um, Miss?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the sounds of everyone packing their bags.

“You didn’t tell us what our homework assignment is for tonight.”

“Oh, that’s right! Thank you for reminding me, Y/N,” the teacher exclaims amidst a chorus of groans, along with a few colorful words directed your way. “Everyone, please finish up chapter three and be prepared to turn in your report on seventh century runes by the start of tomorrow’s class.”

After all, you’re used to how right they are about you.

…Or so they think.

“Oh good, Y/N! I was looking for you all over, you know,” a panting, all-too familiar voice calls out from behind you. You freeze in your tracks, grimacing. After a deep breath, you paint a smile on your face, before turning around.

A tall man, although much shorter due to his slouched posture, hurries towards you animatedly. His short, dark brown hair is matted against the top of his head, and a thick, bushy beard trails down from his chin, rounding above his mouth in a matching mustache. He dons a pair of thin spectacles that hang low on his large nose, dressed in a dark blue robe with faint golden embroidery and a waistcoat to match. A little brown stick juts out from a hidden pocket inside his robe, an object you can only assume to be his wand—which you are quite shocked he hadn’t lost today yet.

“Dad!” you say as enthusiastically as you can muster, but if anyone had been looking closely, they would have seen the way you ever so slightly cringe as he stumbles towards you. You silently thank the heavens that this man doesn’t pay much attention to anything. Not even to his own family.

Merlin clambers towards you, gripping one of your shoulders once you’re within arm’s length. He pants, leaning his weight on you as he catches his breath.

“Dad, what is it?” you ask him, trying your best not to fall over from supporting him.

“I-I…k-keys,” he wheezes.

“You lost your keys?” This certainly isn't the first time he’s come to you with this problem, and you definitely won't bet it'll be his last.

He nods, clutching his chest as his breathing finally evens out. “Phew,” he says, letting go of your shoulder. “My spare keys to my office…I can’t seem to find where I’ve put them.”

“You mean that big ring that has a copy of about every single key needed to unlock absolutely anything in this school?” you ask, incredulous at the way he nods feverishly. Honestly, how he doesn’t see the issue with what you just plainly pointed out is beyond you.

“Nope, haven’t seen them,” you reply. “Have you checked under the counter? Inside your desk drawers? In the little pockets sewn in the other pockets in all of your robes? On top of a clothing rack? Under the vase of orchids? In the fish bowl? In the left sock from your pair that has those reindeers on them?”

He nods at each one, sometimes hesitating as if recalling something deep in his memory , but then continuing to fervently nod nonetheless. You sigh again. “Well, I don’t know then. I suppose you’ve found someplace new to hide them this time.”

“Hmm…” he mutters, scratching his beard.

“Well, Dad, I don’t know if you heard, but I, uh, I made top student of my year last quarter. For the fifth consecutive time,” you mention, trying to ease into the conversation, albeit very tentatively and with great unease. Most people’s parents would applaud them and give them a prize for merely getting an A. Yours, on the other hand, barely remembers which grade you’re in.

Your father snaps his head up, staring at you with an eccentric haze in his eyes. You feel a small glimmer of hope; maybe he’s going to give you a pat on the back this time, or perhaps offer to take you out for a celebratory dinner. You wait for his response, completely still as if frozen in time, anticipation buzzing throughout every nerve.

“Wait…I believe I put it in the mouth of that owl statue…” He freezes erratically, brow furrowed in deep concentration, before releasing the tension in his body and going back to slumping. “No, I think I already checked there.”

You take a nice, long, deep breath, using up every last ounce of your carefully practiced self-control, which you had perfected through years of deploying in stifling social situations that made you want to crawl out of your own skin, to remain calm in this moment. “Well, I hope you find it.” Giving him one last attempt at even a semblance of a smile, you sharply turn back around on your heel, continuing down the hall to your first class of the day.

Watching the early morning rays of sunshine through the tall windows of the corridor, you think back to the discussion you had yesterday in your Artifacts class. You had answered every question correctly, every fact written in ink not only committed to memory but etched into the very foundation of your brain. 

You wonder if he knows of all the hard work you put into school. All the grueling hours you spend studying, all the sleepless nights you spend fighting against your body’s very nature to stay awake and keep your eyes open just enough to read the page. Heck, you wonder if he even remembers that your birthday is coming up next month—or that you gave him your wish list ages ago to ensure that he gets at least one present you asked for, unlike other years.

No, of course he doesn’t remember, you remind yourself. He doesn’t care about me. He never did.

Just like he didn’t care about Mom when she disappeared.

“Ugh, my nail chipped again. I should find the girl who did these and squeeze her to death.”

A tentacle floating in midair tightens and coils around nothingness, miming the strangulation of an innocent soul with a disturbing nonchalance. A girl with dark skin and long locks in colors such as blue, teal, and yellow, done up in a small bunch on top of her head, checks the painted nails on her left hand with a scowl on her face. 

“Come on, Uli, you’re getting your nails done like, every week,” the god of the Underworld replies, indifference practically seeping through his spiked leather jacket as he chews gum and gives the sea witch a look. “At least find yourself someone better.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Uliana snaps, dropping her hand exasperatedly as she huffs.

A sorceress with purple eyeshadow and two sleek, black horns protruding from the sides of her head rolls her eyes as she complains, “This is so boring.” 

“Well, what do you suggest we do then, love?” a crisply accented voice asks, sounding from a boy with neatly parted brown hair and a golden hook that ends in a sharp, gleaming point.

“Did you hear that there’s a, like, super dangerous magical object being kept here?” Maleficent asks, somehow keeping her voice incredibly monotonous and deathly uninterested, even as her words themselves convey enthusiasm. 

“Yeah, apparently it can tell anyone anything they want to know,” Hades replies. “I don’t know why they’re keeping it here, though.”

Uliana turns back to the group, a malicious glint in her eye. Even before she opens her mouth, the boy with powers rather similar to those of a snake can already guess what she’s going to say.

“How about we go steal it?” she asks, a wicked grin already twisting onto her features.

“You do realize that everyone who’s ever used it has gone mad, right?” Hook asks, raising his eyebrows incredulously as he gives Uliana a look of disbelief.

“We won’t use it ourselves, idiot,” she snaps. “But it’ll be fun to steal it and cause a panic. Right, Morgie?”

Morgie swallows, looking up at Uliana with wide eyes. “Of course! C’mon, you guys. Think of the mischief we can cause with it! We can make people think some kids used it and went crazy”—he leans in, excitement growing as he speaks, making wide gestures with his hands—“and everyone would be so scared! They’d probably cancel school, too!”

Uliana grins diabolically again. “Morgie, honey,” she starts, slipping one of her tentacles under his chin, lifting his face up towards her. “How about you do this one?”

“I-I, uh…” he stammers, uncertainty laced in his voice. He definitely wasn't expecting this turn of events.

“Come on, please,” Uliana pouts. “Do it for me? After all, you’re only stealing a little mirror. How hard can that be?”

Morgie glances up at her again, before tugging uncomfortably on the black scarf wrapped around his neck. “But…it’s super dangerous…”

“Don’t you want to be evil? Don't you want to wreak havoc and cause pain?” Uliana taunts. “Or, are you”—she lets out a faux gasp—“afraid?”

“N-no, not at all!" Morgie exclaims, trying to sound more courageous than he feels. “I’ll do it!”

“Perfect,” the sea witch coos, removing her tentacle arm. “You’ll do it tonight.” She turns back to the group, adding, “I hear that old troll keeps the most dangerous and evil artifacts locked up in a room off the east wing, on the third level.”

Morgie gulps, already trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’d be doing the heist tonight. Hook, jumping off a ledge, asks, “You mean the one guarded by different spells and magical alarms?”

Uliana grins wickedly. “Nothing a little bit of Kraken Powder can’t fix.” She holds up a small vial hanging from a string around her neck like a necklace. It's common knowledge how incredibly rare Kraken Powder is, which makes sense, given how potent its anti-magic properties are.

Everyone catches on to what Uliana's implying, causing the group to all laugh together at their evil plan. Morgie tries his best to join along, but he can’t quite seem to get rid of the uneasy knot already forming in the pit of his stomach.

“You remember the plan?”

Uliana’s slippery tentacles glisten under the moonlight, flailing around behind her in midair. Morgie nods, attempting to still his quivering hands before Uliana notices them. He tries, with a miserable sense of impending doom, to swallow the lump in his throat, but to no avail.

“Here, I stole these from Merlin’s office,” Uliana explains as one of her tentacles drops a large ring filled with probably around two dozen keys, each in various shapes and colors, straight into Morgie's open palm. “One of these has to fit the door. You didn’t forget what you need to do, right?”

Morgie clears his throat, choking out a meager, “Yep.” He pockets the keys, seriously hoping they don’t clink together and make too much noise while he moves. As Uliana already repeated a hundred times, “It’s crucial you don’t get caught.”

Morgie reaches up to touch the vial hanging from his neck yet again, making sure it’s still there—after all, better safe than sorry. Once more, he glances at the large grandfather clock in the common area where he and Uliana lurk in the shadows, waiting. Finally, its bells chime midnight, and Uliana turns back to him as the ringing reverberates around them.

“Go, hurry!” the sea witch urges, pushing him toward the door with a tentacle. 

Morgie nods, hurriedly rushing to the exit. The first part of the plan—a plan he so diligently committed to memory—is for him to sneak out while the bells are still ringing, to mask the sound of the door opening and closing. Thankfully, he makes it out by the tenth chime, carefully closing the door to make sure the latch doesn’t sound by the eleventh.

Okay, I’m really doing this, Morgie thinks as he stares into the deserted corridor. He tiptoes around silently, but still as quickly as possible. Time is, obviously, of utmost importance in missions like this.

At last, he reaches his destination. The unassuming—and misleadingly so—wooden door looms over him, ominous through the lens of his knowledge of what lies beyond it. 

An amateur villain would simply pick the lock and open the door, but Morgie is too experienced in such endeavors to make a rookie mistake like that (Uliana told him what to do, step-by-step).

He hovers his hand above the lock, taking a steadying breath as he summons the powers that reside within him. His pupils shrink into the tiniest slivers of blackness as a dark, magical smoke emits from his palm. He makes a faint hissing noise, reciting an old incantation in a tongue far different from what normal humans use, and the lock softly clicks as the door creaks open. Practically inviting him inside.

Morgie pushes it open the rest of the way, making sure to shut it behind him so as to not raise the suspicion of any night guards roaming the halls.

He turns back around, now faced with a dark, menacing hallway. Walking slowly down it, he looks around with a chilling captivation. Old suits of armor leer down at him, rustic and each coated with a thick layer of dust. Large spiderwebs cover every visible nook and cranny, which makes Morgie exceedingly grateful that the actual spiders aren't in his line of sight.

At the end of the corridor stands yet another large door, matching the first. This one, according to Uliana, has even more security than the other. Time to use my secret weapon, Morgie thinks, reaching to pull the vial of Kraken Powder out from under his shirt. He opens the cap and sprinkles a little of the finely grained dust into his palm, then blows it over the lock of the door.

At first glance, it appears the powder didn’t work, as nothing seem to change. But anyone with an affinity for magical energy can feel the spells placed on the lock of the door melt away without a trace. After the door is unarmed, Morgie fishes in his pocket for the keys. They clang horribly as he pulls them out, echoing up into the tall ceiling of the hallway. He freezes, listening intently for footsteps somewhere outside. When he hears none, Morgie begins the task of figuring out which key fits the lock.

He goes through nearly half the ring (Seriously, who keeps all their keys in one place?) before finding the one that fits perfectly. Twisting it with a swift movement, the door unlocks, and he creeps inside. 

To his immense shock, there isn't a room behind the door filled with evil objects or piled with gold coins. Instead, there’s a…

…library?

Morgie walks inside, utterly confused. Had Uliana gotten the location wrong? No, there's no way. The doors were too guarded for a normal library.

He continues down one of the aisles, wondering why he's never seen this place before. It is extremely large, with arched ceilings meters and meters above his head. Tall bookshelves tower over him, so tall that he can barely see the highest shelves.

Lined against the walls and placed on the shelves are also glass jars and containers filled with seemingly normal items: a seashell necklace, a deck of playing cards, a cane with the head of a snake. But there's something sinister about them; some strange aura that hovers above each object. In fact, it fills the entire expanse of the library. 

Morgie stops by one of the shelves, reading the titles. He brushes his fingers along one of the spines—and that’s when he feels it. An ominous energy rushes through his fingertips, electrifying his every nerve at it travels through him, causing him to realize that this is no normal book. It’s a book of dark magic.

He spins around in a circle, eyeing the entirety of the library. Now that he thinks about it, the whole place has the heavy atmosphere of dark magic. And that’s when it hits him: this is no normal library, and neither are the books. This is the room of forbidden artifacts. It just so happens that most of those artifacts are books, probably containing content deemed too dangerous for normal people to learn.

Morgie briefly considers taking a few of the books off the shelves and perusing through them, or maybe even slipping a couple in his jacket and taking them back with him. After all, all these forbidden books must have countless evil spells and potions. If he and the rest of his group got their hands on these…

However, after a moment of serious consideration, he decides the better of it. He's here for another purpose, and Uliana would be outraged if he only came back with a few meager books, no matter the contents.

Continuing through the labyrinth of shelves, Morgie looks around meticulously, trying to figure out a rhyme or reason to the order of things. No student has ever been in here, and he doubts many of the teachers have, either. Therefore, there were no references or guides to help him and his friends figure out where in the room the Mirror is located. Plus, he doesn’t think any of them had expected the place to be so colossal—he surely hadn't.

After a few minutes of stumbling around in the near darkness, he finally comes across a ladder leaning against one of the shelves. It’s so tall he can’t see the top of it, but deciding it’s his best chance at finding his bearings, Morgie begins the long climb up.

He isn’t really afraid of heights. Not in the way that some people refuse to go on anything more than a few feet off the ground. But he honestly doesn’t see how anyone couldn’t feel at least a little queasy at the high altitude. I must be a dozen meters off the ground, Morgie realizes as he glances down. I wonder what would happen if I fell—

He cuts the thought off before he can imagine the gruesome details. Instead, he looks back up and around the library. From all the way up here, he can see the top of the shelves, and he really was right: this place was designed to be a maze.

On the far side of the area, his eyes spot lots of glass cases reflecting the soft moonlight and flames of enchanted candles. That must be where most of the objects are kept. Chances are, the Mirror’s there too.

He mentally charts out a course through the labyrinth, trying to remember the directions for more than two seconds. Right, left, left again, forward, right, right again, left, forward—or wait, was it right? After a few minutes, he climbs back down the ladder, praying to the demons of the Underworld that he remembers the path correctly and doesn’t get lost.

Morgie makes his way through the maze, growing more and more fascinated by the creepy and wonderful objects around him. He can’t stop thinking about how nice—and useful—it would be to pocket some of them, or maybe come back here and spend more time studying them. Every time he passes by something that intrigues him, his mind immediately wonders if it would fit inside his clothes.

Despite this, he resists the urge to steal things, as he can’t have anything weighing him down in case there are more challenges or enchantments he has to disarm before getting the Mirror. But perhaps on the way back…

His train of thought drifts away as he finally reaches a large area that is surrounded by glass cases, on tables and lining the shelves set into the walls. He never imagined there would be so many forbidden artifacts in total, much less in one place, although maybe that's because he's never really paid attention in class.

From the top of a shelf a few meters away, something catches his eye. A mysterious, eerie white fog pours from one of the highest shelves, dissipating as it cascades down the front of the bookcase. He remembers hearing something about mist related to the Mirror, and deciding it’s worth a shot, he moves closer to check it out.

And that’s when he sees it.

A dark flurry of movement from another one of the top shelves catches his attention. Morgie snaps his head up, brows furrowing as he squints, eyes trailing the structures above him. But he can’t quite make out anything, at least not in the faint light, so he hesitantly shrugs it off and continues towards the mysterious fog—albeit not being able to shake off the strange feeling he has that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He takes a few more steps, and just as he's nearly convinced himself he’s only being paranoid, it happens again. Now that he’s closer, he can see there’s another tall ladder reaching up to around where the movement is happening, close to the Mirror. This time, his eyes register the shape. 

A dark, human figure moves up the ladder, blending in and out of the shadows. 

Morgie’s eyes grow wide, pupils shrinking back into snake-like slits as a reptilian hiss escapes his mouth. There shouldn't be anyone else here.

The figure freezes in place before turning around to face him, hanging halfway up the ladder. Although Morgie can’t see their face, concealed by a thick black hood, he can tell they saw him. 

He stretches out his arms, summoning black magic that swirls around his hands and up to his elbows again. After but a second of him and the hooded figure staring at each other—which somehow felt like an hour—Morgie throws his arm forward, aimed for the figure.

A ball of twisting dark energy shoots from his hand and towards the hooded face. The figure ducks down, dodging the attack. Undeterred, Morgie hurls more swirls of dark magic. The figure dodges the first few of them, but they must have realized that merely ducking down won't be enough to win this fight, because they summon a shield of buzzing yellow electricity to block the next few attacks.

Morgie quickly becomes aware that he isn’t winning the fight like this; he needs a new strategy. And that’s when he spots it.

He puts his hands close together in front of his chest, gathering a potent sphere of black magic between his palms. The figure stands there, motionless, still hanging onto the ladder.

If you can’t knock them down, pull the carpet out from under their feet.

He thrusts both of his hands forward, sending the ball of magic not at the figure, but at the base of the ladder instead. By the time they realize what he's doing, it’s too late.

Morgie’s magic collides with the bottom rungs, exploding the material and sending wooden splinters flying everywhere. He watches as the figure falls, swiftly summoning a flash of lightning below them as they plummet, easing the crash as they hit the ground. 

The aftermath of the explosion has Morgie ducking down and covering his face with his arm, barely being able to make out what happened to the hooded person. As the dust finally settles, Morgie spots the figure get up, gripping their head as if in pain. They stumble a little, then bush off their black robe as they check for other injuries.

As if abruptly remembering why they had fallen, they spin around to face Morgie. He stares, wide-eyed in pure disbelief, as the figure comes face-to-face with him. Even though they don’t seem to be too hurt, and definitely still alive, the force of the impact caused their hood to be knocked off their head.

Morgie’s mouth drops open as he registers the figure’s face.

There, in front of him, in the forbidden archive harboring some of the world's most dangerously powerful magical objects during the dead of night, stands the headmaster’s daughter.

Your grimace grows as you lock eyes with a boy with light brown hair, hazel eyes shrunk into slits resembling a snake’s, causing your head to throb even worse.

You watch as the realization dawns upon the boy’s face, cursing the skies for this little issue that you now have to deal with.

He knows your secret.

“Y-you, you, you’re the headmaster’s daughter,” he sputters out, disbelief still painted on his face, as clear as day. Seriously, if he keeps his jaw open like that, it’ll fall off.

“Yeah, no shit,” you spit back, not paying much attention to his stunned little face. Your mind is overwhelmed with a swirling whirlwind of thoughts and ideas on how to get rid of this new liability, each plan vying for your attention, each one crueler than the last.

After all, now that he knows who you really are, how you're not a rule-abiding goody-goody, there’s no point in keeping up your sweet, innocent facade. You finally let your mask slip off, the mask that you wear constantly in the presence of others. The mask that you only relieve yourself of when you’re all alone, with no one to see your callous, vindictive, cynical side. Your true side.

Ever since that day, at least. The day that forever changed your life.

“What are you doing here?” the boy stammers, as if it isn't already dreadfully obvious.

“The same thing you’re doing here.” “How do you know what I’m doing here?”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. Honestly, this kid could not be more of a dunderhead. “Look, I don’t have time for this. Either get out of my way, or I’ll make you get out of my way.”

At your threat, the boy, whose name you happen to remember from a class you took with him last year, changes his stance. Morgie widens his legs, arms fanned out besides him whilst summoning dark energy that clings to his skin, alive and breathing, yet submissive to its master’s will.

“Aren’t you like, a goody-goody?” he asks, face still scrunched in confusion. “I’ve heard teachers go on and on about how good your grades are, how polite you are, how you’re the perfect student.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed at his relentless questions. It 's already bad enough that he knows this much. You don't need him finding out more.

“Well, looks can be deceiving,” you respond as vaguely as possible, hoping that it’ll shut him up. Instead, he cocks his head to the side, shooting back, “I don’t really think so.”

You try your best to not encourage him and his irritating questions, but you can’t help but begrudgingly ask, “How so?”

Morgie looks at you for a beat with an intent gaze, before replying, “I always thought you were too pretty for a hero.”

Uh, excuse me, what? you think. Now it’s your turn to be shocked. “You don’t find me scary?” You had always assumed that people would be terrified if they saw your real, unfiltered side.

“No, not really. I mean, I’m evil too. If anything, I find you even hotter now that I know you’re not a goody-goody.”

Blinking hard, your eyebrows shoot into the air. There is no way he just said that. Your mind is uncontrollably reeling at his words, but only for a brief moment. Before you can read too deeply into it, your attention is quickly snapped back to the black magic still swirling around him, growing by the second. Ah, a ploy to distract me. Maybe he is more clever than he lets on.

“Listen, Morgie,” you snarl threateningly. “That mirror is mine.”

“Wait, you’re here for the Mirror too?” he asks, with far too light a tone for a situation such as this.

“Th-that was obvious the whole time!” you exclaim, unbelievably irritated. “What did you think I was here for?” “I dunno, a book or something.” He shrugs casually, before narrowing his eyes. “Wait, what do you want the Mirror for?”

“That’s none of your business,” you snap back, fingers thrumming with the rush of energy as you summon your own magic. Letting your curiosity get the better of you yet again, you add, “Why do you want it?”

“I’m a villain. I steal things for fun,” he replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What does a goody-two-shoes hero want to do with a forbidden artifact?”

Barely listening to his words, you study him carefully, needing to know the extent of his powers if you’re going to win the inevitable fight that you can sense coming. You see how his ever-growing dark magic stalls temporarily as he talks, probably from getting distracted while speaking. That’s it. Deciding to buy yourself some time, you use this little weakness to your advantage.

“I want the Mirror because I want to use it.” Even though you’re planning on entertaining his pointless questions, you definitely aren’t going to give him information for free.

“Use it? To get an answer?” His magic hesitates again.

“No, to look at myself.” You see the way his eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you’re pretty sure you’re about to implode. “Of course to get an answer, you dumbass! Unlike you, I don’t go risking my life ‘for fun.’”

“What are you even going to use as an offering? You have to give it something, you know.”

You sigh, reaching underneath your shirt to pull out a small silver locket, its chain blackened from the trials of time. Dangling it from your fingers, you show it to Morgie.

“A locket?” he asks incredulously. “The offering's supposed to be something really special or precious.”

“It is really precious,” you hiss, tucking it back into your shirt. “It’s the most precious thing I own. If anything’s going to make the Mirror work, it’s this.”

“Well, you’re not going to get the Mirror anyways. It’s mine.” He widens his stance again, his magic continuing to grow around him. No, I need a little more time, you think, masking your growing panic with an insouciant eye roll.

“Why?” you question. “You’re not even going to use it.”

“I still need it.” “But why?”

“I won’t tell you if you won’t tell me!” he exclaims. Despite his little outburst, you can tell there’s something he’s hiding. After all, you are a master of concealing the truth yourself. “Plus, you know that everyone who's ever used the mirror has gone crazy, right? You’re literally sentencing yourself to a life of madness.” You give him an unamused look. “I’m the top of our year. Obviously I know everything there is to know about the Mirror of Ytirev.”

He gazes at you in a way you can’t decipher, but it’s softer, more sympathetic than his former glare. You notice that his snake eyes have disappeared as well, despite the magical energy still surrounding him. “Then why are you still doing this, despite the risks?”

You falter, for just a second, letting a sliver of emotion slip through. But as quickly as it happened, you patch it back up, returning to your cold, glowering face. “It’s a price I’m willing to pay.” You expect him to drop it after that, but he continues to press you. “You’re prepared to give up your morals? Your status as a hero? You’re willing to lose all your integrity for one answer?”

God, he talks too much. With a sniff, you throw your hands out in front of you, releasing a bright flash of crackling electricity that had been building up as you cry out, “I don’t care how evil I have to become, I will find the truth, one way or another!”

The lightning shoots forward without warning, hot as an inferno, piercing straight through his chest and flinging him backwards into a shelf like a ragdoll. He falls down to his knees, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s going to get up again. Clutching his chest, he wheezes yet still manages to stand up, summoning wispy black tendrils that shoot at you like arrows.

You tuck and roll, dodging them, whilst building up more crackling lightning between your fingers. The last tendril hits far too close to you for comfort, burning a hole in your robe. That would have been my flesh, had it hit me, you realize in sudden horror.

Seeing as how your opponent is summoning even more dark magic to hit you with, now engulfing his entire body, you break into a sprint. Black spears collide with the shelves behind you one after another, barely missing you, as you run past glass cases, each containing a different artifact that glistens in the silver moonlight. Something across the arena seizes your attention, and a plan begins to piece itself together in your head. You continue your dash towards the shelves behind Morgie. Once you reach a section with books instead of random magical objects, you slow your pace. Amidst Morgie's unrelenting attacks, you create a golden shield of electricity that sparks and crackles, almost alive, and which reaches as tall as you. You jog past the shelves, head craned as you scan the book titles as quickly as possible.

Morgie persists in launching balls of dark magic directly at you, smashing into your shield. Your panic rises as cracks begin to form, at first only small fissures, but growing larger and larger with each sphere that pummels your way.

You run parallel to the shelf, which boxes in the rest of the area in a rectangular shape, eyes frantically darting over words with barely enough time for your brain to comprehend them.

Glancing up as a whorl of blackness blasts the books resting directly in front of you, you duck down, yet continue to run. That’s when you see a thick tome, larger than the others and bearing a dark red cover, jutting out from a shelf a few meters in front of you. With your magical shield barely staying intact, you lunge towards it, snatching the book as you fall towards the ground and somersault behind a desk-sized wooden stand to hide. On top of it stands a glass display case, with faint candlelight illuminating the rustic, yet enchanted, metal shield contained inside it.

You crouch down, flipping through the pages of the book desperately, trying to find the incantation you know has to be in there. One time, on one of your random visits to the library—the normal one, not this hell of the most cursed items in the land—you had picked up a text that talked about the history of spellcasting. Detailed inside was a description of one of the first books of curses ever written, which had been banned from production shortly after its release due to the nature of its contents. There had been a small sketch next to the explanation, which just so happens to match the tome now weighing in your hands.

Morgie’s blasts of magic don’t stop, pounding the wooden stand and the glass case alike. You think he yells something, but you can’t tell; you’re too focused on squinting at the fine print on the page, eyes wildly scanning the names of the spells. The desk quakes with every attack, causing your hands to tremble as you rifle through the pages hastily, pointer finger trailing down the lists of incantations. 

Finally, your eyes lock onto the one you want. “Obiectum impedit semitam,” you recite, gaze darting between the page and the glass case above you. It quivers vigorously, yet remains unscathed due to its magic-bulletproof nature.

“Evanescet a lumine irae meae!” As soon as the last syllable leaves your tongue, the glass case dissipates into thin air. Your hand darts up, clutching the shield and shoving it in front of you. Just in time, as the wooden stand protecting you explodes from the force of Morgie’s dark magic, blasting into a shower of mere splinters that rain down around you. The shockwave causes you to recoil, even as the shield absorbs the brunt of the impact.

Quickly regaining your bearings, you crouch even lower behind the metal. Thumbing through the book pages briskly, your eyes skim the ink, trying to find the first spell that can help you now. 

“Inimicus meus, caveto tibi,” you mutter the incantation rapidly, trying your best not to stumble over the archaic words—who knows what sort of havoc that would make. “Transi me et in carcere gelido capieris.”

You peek your head over the shield as you say the last line, locking in on your target. He stands there, panting, worn from his latest, potent attack. Morgie barely has enough time to widen his eyes as the final word escapes your mouth, instantly creating ice stalagmites that burst forth from the ground, crisscrossing as they trap him in a prison of ice. They tower high all around while entrapping him in a circle, frost coating their sleek outsides, which narrow into dangerously sharp tips.

The air turns frigid, and you can see flurries of movement as Morgie thrashes within his glacial cell. Already, he’s trying to break out. Through the cracks between the icicles, you can see a swirling vortex of black magic fighting the freezingly cold charm. Even though it is a strong spell, you know it won’t last for long. Especially not with the dark energy that is slowly, yet surely, thawing out the ice.

Springing up again, you bolt to the shelves on the other side, jumping over small puddles forming on the floor. The book is still open in your hands as you wildly tear through one page after another, the minuscule words shaking and blurring together as you run. Honestly, what kind of asshole decides to print in such a tiny font? you internally rage. Flipping through the large sheets of paper filled with small text reminds you of reading a dictionary. In a way, the spellbook is a dictionary of sorts, with the way every curse is listed alphabetically, in a neat and orderly manner—much unlike your current frenzied state, with how your heart pounds against your chest as if trying to break free, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins cuts off any semblance of a coherent thought forming in your brain.

Twisting sharply to your right, you dart towards the shelf that the Mirror stands on. You stare up at it as you continue to run, eyes practically sending a silent plea while it sits on its throne undisturbed, watching the scenes before it unfold as if viewing a play from the highest seat in the opera house; somehow mildly amused, yet still condescendingly blasé at the same time.

Flipping to the L section of the spellbook, you scan the page for a spell that can help you reach it at last. Finally finish the last stretch of your journey. 

The icicle prison behind you makes a dreadfully loud crack. Your heart only races even faster with a jolt, your breathing coming out only in sharp, erratic gulps that make you feel light-headed, as if you’re not getting enough oxygen no matter how much you gasp for air. 

As you scan the page, this time with a renewed fervor that has your eyes darting across the words, too panicked to even finish a sentence before leaping to the next, you make a very interesting revelation indeed. For whatever reason, the genius who wrote this book decided not to add levitation to the list of spells, but instead included lignum pullelare, which roughly translates to “sprouting a tree”.

Another thunderous boom sounds again from the constantly fracturing icicles, a violent reminder of the ticking clock. You decide that this spell, no matter how absurd, is the best shot you have. Inhaling another sharp breath that burns your lungs, you cry, “Surge, virens gigas, de terra immunda,” your eyes glued to the page. “Ascendunt ad lunam et super caelos!”

A branch smashes into your chest, knocking the wind out of you—you really need to get used to how quickly these spells take effect—lifting you up as a colossal tree ascends from the ground, growing much more rapidly than even a beanstalk, much less a normal tree. The metal shield slips out of your grasp from the impact, your fingers desperately flailing in its direction futile as it falls and hits the floor with a dull thud.  

Your get snapped back to the present from the momentary distraction as your body starts slipping off the branch, with how it's quickly growing into a thick, strong limb with no end in sight. You slide off the ever-stretching wood, scratches cutting into your arms as you frantically try to wrap them around the branch, until only your hands are still hanging on. Using the book, which remains gripped firmly in one hand, you fling it open and cling to each cover. The book's pages spread wide around the wood as you hold on for dear life.

You continue shooting upwards along with the tree, the bookcase racing past you, when a realization hits you like a strike of lightning. This tree won’t stop growing anytime soon, and when it does, you’ll be too high up—if you're still alive, that is.

Glancing above you, you spot the Mirror and the shelf it sits on getting closer, and getting closer fast. Making up your mind, or rather, making a brash decision fueled by your skyrocketing panic, you wait until the shelf you need to reach comes into view. Then, you jump off. 

Flinging yourself towards the bookcase, you manage to latch on to a shelf, fingers wrapping around the ledge while your feet find purchase on another ridge a few feet below. The book remains clutched in one hand, your iron grip refusing to let it go. Realizing you can't do anything while holding it, you risk letting go with one hand. Gripping onto the shelf with your other hand, you tuck the book under your chin, angling your head down as you struggle to hold it between your neck and body. 

You peer up at your grasp on the shelf, the unforgiving ridges digging into your skin, carving painful lines into your fingers. Your feet barely remain balanced, the ledge not jutting out as far as you’d like it to. Turning your heels in to stay on the little shelf space there is in front of the books, you wince as the ridges between your arms and legs bite into your body. The sweat coating your palms causes your grip to start slipping off, your eyes wide in sheer terror as you let go for a brief second, thrusting your hands further back and hooking onto the edge again.

Glimpsing back down, you see the Mirror resting in its glass cage a few shelves below you, the strange white mist slithering underneath the glass and pouring out over the bookcase like a waterfall. With your chin still uncomfortably positioned as to not lose the book, you release on hand and leg from the shelf, leaving you hanging in between life and death itself.

You move your free hand down one ledge below, then the corresponding foot, haltingly scaling your way down the bookcase. Each time precariously letting go of your grip or footing to blindly feel below yourself for another ledge to stay on. After a few iterations, your feet finally stand on the same shelf as the Mirror, right next to the glass case.

Another piercing boom echoes behind you, making you squeeze your eyes shut as you flinch against the bookcase, quivering breaths sending your heartbeat shooting through the roof. Your eyes dart down to the book you squeeze with your neck, then to where your hands are barely clinging on to the shelf. There’s no chance of using the book to make the glass disappear again. Cursing yourself for not memorizing the incantation earlier, your mind swarms with thoughts, each one so loud they drown out each other.

An idea forms in your head—or rather, slams itself into the sides of your brain like a wave crashing in a bottle while it screams for attention—as you warily lift one foot on top of the heel of the other shoe, maneuvering it off your foot.

Now with only a sock left, you press your toes against the glass container. Inhaling a sharp breath, causing your lungs to ache as they scream for more, you muster enough energy to summon a bolt of lightning, focusing all your attention on passing electrical current through your body and to your foot.

The hotness of the electricity heats up the glass, melting it until there’s a decent-sized hole the size of your foot there. Shuffling to the side and raising your shoeless foot to the ledge above, you draw back your other leg and smash it into the glass, causing the compromised structure to shatter everywhere.

Climbing down the bookcase farther, you come face-to-face with the Mirror of Yteriv at last. It looks exactly like it was depicted in that textbook, sporting an elegant silver frame and seemingly shattered surface, with the two rubies staring at you like glowing eyes. 

A loud explosion rings behind you, resounding throughout the entire library. You snatch the Mirror with one hand, turning your head to the side as far as you can without letting the book slip, just in time to see Morgie demolish the ice prison as he breaks free.

It's clear that since now he's no longer bound by frozen spikes of ice, you’re his next target. Taking in an abrupt gasp of air—the only preparation you have—you let go of the shelf.

You plummet towards the ground for only a second before creating small thunderbolts beneath each of your feet, suspending you in midair. Already, you can see Morgie charging up another attack, aiming it straight at you. Book in one hand, Mirror in the other, you take off into a run through the air. Small platforms of electricity form beneath your feet with every step, dissipating again as soon as your foot lifts.

Balls of dark magic hurl towards you, and you already know you have no chance of winning this fight—not like this. But you don’t need to win. Glancing down at the Mirror clutched in your palm as you jump off a thunderbolt, right as it gets blasted by a black orb, you realize that you’ve already completed your mission. Now, all that’s left is to get out of here.

Your mind scrambles for a way out that doesn’t involve getting blasted into smithereens, eyes still fixed on the Mirror as you continue to dash around in midair. Watching the wispy tendrils of white smoke pour out of the artifact, a previous memory from something you read in a book hits you like a flash.

As the Mirror of Ytirev connects to its wielder’s soul, so do its properties, the book had said. The mist emitted by the Mirror fluctuates with the wielder’s emotions; the more powerfully one feels their emotions, negative ones in particular, the more smoke it produces.

A room filled with smoke? You can’t think of a more perfect cover to help you escape.

Grip tightening even further around the Mirror as you leap to another lightning platform, dodging a new attack, you rack your brain for every negative emotion you have—which turns out to be a lot. The adrenaline pumping through your veins as your life flashes before your very eyes from every near-death experience. The way your heart shatters a little more every time your father overlooks your accomplishments, not paying any mind to how hard you strive to please him. Just to get a single smile, a pat on the back, a meager look of pride in your direction. One simple “That’s my daughter!” sent your way.

The anger deep inside you starts to bubble, pure rage sizzling and growing hotter every second you spend lost in your emotions. A fury that is always there, making every breath a little shorter, every happy moment a little duller. A dormant feeling that is usually left undisturbed, except for when it's triggered. Then it becomes a fire that burns hotter than any flame in the depths of hell.

The emotions and thoughts and memories that you keep suppressed in a corner of your heart all coming flooding out, like a dam finally bursting free. How could everyone strand you like that? Leave you all alone to suffer through your grief, while always expecting you to be kind and cheerful. They know what happened, and they have to know how badly it hurts. Yet not a single one cares. Not your dad, not your teachers, not your friends. No one in the entire world ever so much as offered a shoulder for you to cry on or gave you a comforting smile. Not one “I’m here for you” or “It’s all right, take your time.” No, all they did was raise their expectations, setting the bar so high until you’re barely clinging to it, trying to pull yourself up despite your weary arms. Lifting it to such heights that losing your grip and falling would mean certain death.

You think of the snarling, twisted animal that resides deep inside you, embedded into your very being, clawing at the aching hole in your heart left by the absence of your mother. Finally letting it break free after being caged for so long, you feel, oh-so agonizingly, how it scratches its way up your throat and escapes you in a wretched sob.

Why did she leave me? How could she leave me? I’m her daughter, for fuck’s sake. Who can abandon their child like that? Does she not care about me? 

Did she ever even love me?

Painful thoughts consume your head as a few stray tears run down your cheek. You grit your teeth, sucking in shaky gasps of breaths. Smothered by your anguish, submerged in emotion.

Yet, despite all this, it works. Remembering the entire point of your self-inflicted despair, your head snaps down to the Mirror. Although your legs burn and throb from all the incessant running, you can’t stop. At least not yet.

Thick fog exudes from the Mirror, rapidly engulfing the whole of the arena. Within a few moments, everything is covered in the dense whiteness, so heavy you can barely see your hand, even if you hold it directly in front of your face.

Morgie disappears in the fog as well, to the point where you can no longer see nor hear him. Assuming that he’s no longer a threat for now—if you can’t see him, he can’t see you, and if he can’t see you, he can’t attack you—you summon a staircase of thunderbolts and walk down it until you safely step onto solid ground.

Your legs practically give way at the first touch of hard floor, the urge to collapse and lie on the ground excruciatingly strong. Mustering up the last of your strength and willpower, you force your feet to step one after another, desperately trying to distract yourself from the fire burning in your muscles at even the strain of supporting your own weight. 

Almost done. Almost.

Practically rendered blind by the all-encompassing mist, you keep one hand outstretched, making sure you won’t collide with anything—especially Morgie. Pocketing the Mirror, you continue through the fog. You had made sure to note your direction in relation to the exit before everything became completely invisible as to help you easily find your way out without getting lost. But after a few minutes in the overwhelming whiteness, you start to doubt yourself. 

What’s even worse is that there’s no sign of Morgie. You’re not foolish enough to expect him to pop up right in front of you, but you don’t hear him making any sounds either. No footsteps, no breathing, nothing. Your strides are far more muffled as you take your other shoe off too, annoyed at the limping effect the difference in heights causes. But nothing from him.

Your mind starts wandering to what happened to him, refusing to admit that the smallest part of you feels the tiniest bit concerned. Does he need help? Is he still alive? Your intentions were to steal the Mirror and disarm him, not kill him. You’re not evil enough for that.

Not yet, anyway.

After stumbling through the murky fog for a bit longer, you start to notice that now, you can see your hand extended in front of you. The fog is thinning, you think, which means I must be nearing the edge of this area and heading towards the bookcases.

A little bit further, and the fog disperses to all but a thin mist. The bookshelves in front of you come into view, the rows and rows of them finally visible as they expand into the distance. Follow those, and you’ll find the door you came in through. 

So, so close…

You take a few more steps, the heavy spellbook still in hand as you reach into your pocket with an unusual, yet profound, sense of paranoia, ensuring the Mirror is still there. Out of nowhere, you feel a strange sort of chill cover your feet. You chalk it up to your lack of shoes, but, not being able to resist the urge, you glance down.

That’s when you see strange feathery tendrils of black smoke on the floor, in stark contrast to the thin mist that hangs in the air. They slither and wrap around your feet as they move, condensing together in front of you and rising up a meter off the ground in the shape of a hissing black cobra.

The cobra flares out its hood whilst flicking its tongue at you, swaying side to side as it stretches to its full height. You stumble backwards, hesitating for only a second too long before it dawns on you where the snake came from.

Behind you, a brooding voice sounds. “Going somewhere?” Morgie asks.

You spin around sharply, dismay and a special breed of horror painted on your face as you turn to face him. “I don’t care what you do, the Mirror is mine,” you growl, shooting him a lethal glare that truly could kill.

“I don’t think so.” He gathers more black magic around his palm, creating an orb that whirls around like a dark, spherical tornado. You both stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, a fracture in time, trying to decide your next move—when he suddenly throws his hand forward.

You flinch away, yanking the book in front of your face as a shield. After a second, when you don’t feel anything, you open your eyes, turning back in his direction in confusion.

And that’s when you see that you weren't the target of his attack.

The book in front of you was.

The dark magic gnaws at it from the back cover, where it hit on impact, eating away at the pages. “No!” you scream, desperately flipping through the paper as the magic destroys it. Your own magic may be quite strong, but since you're barely allowed to practice it, it’s nowhere near the son of Morgana’s abilities or prowess. This book was your only chance at defeating him.

Frantically rifling through the pages, a look of pure horror on your face, you try to scan the spells for something to save you. Teleportation is soon gone, as well as fireball. As soon as you catch a glimpse of a spell name that could be helpful, the incantation is instantly obliterated.

Panic building faster than even the speed of the dark magic, you flip to the front of the book, trying to find a spell at the beginning of the alphabet so you have enough time to actually read the incantation.

But apple is of no use, and neither is bridge. Morgie stands there, gaze transfixed on your struggling form, wickedly smiling with an amused raise of his eyebrows. Guess he really is a villain after all.

The black energy eroding the book spreads across both covers, demolishing the tome as you hold it in your feverishly trembling hands. Your eyes race across the letters, desperate to find one that could even have a chance at saving you.

Dragon, no.

Claws, not that.

Chasm, not that either.

None of these will help me! your internal voice screeches, the book dissipating as you hold it. Then, your eyes snag along a word.

Chains. The perfect spell. 

“Ut qui inritat, catenas sentiat iras,” you wildly spit out, heart racing, tongue unable to move fast enough. Your eyes dart frenziedly ahead of your mouth, running on sheer panic as you try to memorize the words in case the book does disappear. “Pati in compedibus, ut solvas pretium peccatorum tuorum,” you continue to cry out.

As the last fibers of the pages evaporate in black fumes, you thrust a hand in Morgie’s direction, yelling the last few words. “Eris enim sine fuga ligatus!”

Nothing.

Then, boom.

The residual magic from the demolished book, no longer contained in a physical form, explodes, the force sending you flying backwards. You soar for a couple feet before colliding with a shelf behind you, your head slamming against a sharp edge.

You crumple to the floor, body bruised, beaten, and bloody. The world spins, your head throbs, and you feel so generally shitty that you want to crawl out of your body and leave this physical hindrance behind.

Your head feels too heavy to lift up, and so it falls forward, swaying back and forth. A warm sensation on the back of your skull draws your senses back to the present, and you lift one weary hand to the spot. Bringing it back down in front of your face, you see a whole lot of red smothered on it, just as more trickles down onto the base of your head and neck.

Groaning, you lift your face to scan your surroundings as the dust settles yet again. The fog is now almost completely gone, allowing you to see rather clearly. Sight still blurry, you barely make out the figure a few meters in front of you as heavy chains whip up from the floor, wrapping around his arms.

More spring up around his legs, dragging him down and causing his knees to buckle. He fights against the metal, but they only tighten as even more encircle his torso, tethering him to the ground. He leans forwards, now kneeling before you, arms spread out and chained to the floor on either side.

In front of him, halfway between you two, lies the Mirror of Yteriv, face-up on the floor.

Scrambling to get up, you slowly manage to stand, leaning your weight on the bookcase behind you. The ground sways underneath your feet, but you don’t collapse. One shaky step after another, you make your way over to the mirror.

You practically crumple to the floor as you lean down to snatch it up, the sounds of chains rattling against each other echoing through your head as their prisoner resists his bonds.

You straighten again, running your fingers over every millimeter of the Mirror’s surface to ensure that the cracks reflected on it are only part of its usual appearance and not actual damage caused during the explosion. Once you're sure of its safety, you look down at the figure shackled in front of you.

Morgie looks up at you, hair disheveled and face bruised, a few drops of blood spattered on his cheek. His eyes are a storm of anguish and a wounded kind of sorrow, his jaw clenched tight. You’d like to think that he isn’t peering up at you, body tied and bound, with resentment etched into his features, but you know you’d be lying to yourself.

He gives another violent tug against the chains, but to no avail. Neither of you speak a word, remaining in complete silence, yet somehow saying a thousand things through your eyes. You stare down at him, at the way he can barely lift his head due to his restraints, the agony swirling in his eyes tugging at your heartstrings in ways that make you ache through your core. 

But you’ve already come this far. You can’t turn back now.

The deafening silence remains as you raise the Mirror up in front of yourself, the white mist wrapping around you as if beckoning you closer. The red eyes glow even brighter, their judgment intensifying as your reflection begins to appear in the glass. The cracks on the surface slowly fade away as you come into view, until finally revealing a completely smooth and unmarred image as you gaze into your own eyes.

Except they aren’t yours.

Your reflection in the mirror is not of yourself, but of a younger version of you. She smiles effulgently, a pure, innocent sparkle of wonder in her eyes. A look of untainted bliss painted on her face as she beams. 

A look you haven’t seen in your own reflection for a long time.

“Mommy?” her young, high-pitched voice calls out. “Mommy? Moooommy? Where are you?”

A sob gets caught in your throat as you gasp, tears framing your vision. As if the memory finally gets uncovered in your mind, after being hidden away all these years from your brain deeming it too painful, you realize when this is—or rather, what this is.

“Mommy?” she calls again, her smile faltering as her little brow furrows in confusion, her face scrunching ever so slightly. “Mommy?” She turns her head to the side, looking at something out of view before asking, “Daddy, where’s Mommy?”

Your chest heaves as a sharp cry escapes you, the pain taking a physical form in the tears streaking your cheeks, your face contorting as you weep. In the background, a man’s faint, shaky sobs sound.

The mirror slips from your fingers, landing on the ground with an echoing thud. You whimper, uncontrollably trembling breaths causing your chest to jolt back and forth. You don’t move, can’t move, empty hand still suspended in midair.

You feel numb, yet like you're experiencing every emotion all at once. Your brain can’t wrap around this, around any of this, can’t comprehend your own thoughts. Can’t process what you feel. You’ve shoved your emotion down for so long, that now that they’re no longer bottled up, you don’t know how to deal with them.

“I’m sorry.” The voice cuts through the thick silence, snapping you out of the raging war inside your head.

You glance over at Morgie, still wrapped in chains. His eyes no longer hold the same animosity and misery, but instead a soft sort of sympathy, an underlying look of understanding as he peers up at you, head slightly raised.

“I don’t want your pity,” you sniff indignantly.

“I’m not pitying you.”

You look down at him, your chest heaving, eyes bloodshot. Taking shaky gasps of breath through your mouth, your body quivers as you wait for him to continue.

“I didn’t know about your mom, and you’re totally justified for wanting to know what happened to her,” Morgie continues. “You can take that Mirror and walk out of here if you want.” You keep on staring at him, not saying anything, frozen with anticipation as he carries on. “But are you really going to risk your future for knowledge of the past?”

You gulp before responding, voice hoarse and eyes half-lidded, voice cold and numb. “Would you still hesitate to take that risk, even when it means it could make your future finally be one worth living?”

“Your future is already one worth living,” Morgie replies. “You may not see it, but you’re talented, and smart, and pretty, and you’re a good person. You have a bright future ahead of you.” He shakes his head, eyes still boring into you. “Don’t ruin it like this. Blinded by your pain.”

Sniffling, you inhale a shuddering breath. “And how do you know my pain is blinding me, and not making me see clearer? Clearer than I have in my entire life. Clearer than she did.” You jut your chin towards the mirror lying on the floor.

“I don’t. But what I do know, from seeing my own mother, is that pain like this gets you nowhere. Letting the people who were supposed to love you instead turn you bitter and cynical never fixes things. You may think that becoming evil is the solution, but it’s not. It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”

You stare at him intensely, a raw kind of pain displayed on your face, one that no one has ever seen before. A thousand emotions flicker through your eyes, your lips twisting into a whimpering attempt at a smile as you cry again, the sob wracking through your body. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

Hope flashes in your eyes, reflected in his. Your gaze softens, looking at him as if he’s the beacon of light at the end of the tunnel. A small grin breaks his steady demeanor, looking at you with optimism shining through the glimmer in his eyes.

You reach down, picking up the Mirror again. You stare at it, although not directly at your reflection this time. He peers up at you, still shackled to the floor, eyes wide with anticipation.

You slip the Mirror into the pocket of your cloak once again before turning around, your back to him. Twisting your head to the side so he hears you, you say, “The chains will disappear in an hour.”

Turning your head back, you walk away and leave him behind, black cape flickering in the dark night.

Unclasping the back, you slip off the locket, placing it in front of you. The rusty metal is reflected in the mirror in front of it, along with the tears that splatter on its surface.

It had belonged to your mother, the only thing you had left of her. She had given it to you when you were a little kid, not too long before she left. It was old and weathered, the silver having tarnished over time. Still, you religiously wore it every single day, never taking it off as if it's a part of your body. And sometimes, if you stare at it hard enough, you can almost trick yourself into believing she's still there.

Safely back in your dorm, all alone, you had set the Mirror down, flipping to the notebook page where you had transcribed the incantations for the ritual, without a second thought.

Now, sitting on the ground, the Mirror leaning against a leg of your desk with your locket as an offering in front of it, you start to hesitate. Your face twists in pure agony, features scrunched up, lips quivering uncontrollably as a waterfall of tears splatter onto your hands and lap.

It’s too late to turn back now.

Taking another shaky breath, you extend your hands forward to the Mirror, placing one thumb on each red gemstone embedded in the intricate silver design. The jewels watch you, scorning your every action. Just like everyone else.

Your eyes flutter closed, letting out the steadiest exhale you’ve had all night. “Speculum, speculum, in conspectu oculorum meorum,” you whisper, feeling the way the rubies press into the flesh of your thumbs. Already, the Mirror starts discharging more fog, enveloping you as it grows denser with each syllable. “Accipe donum meum et veritas libera me.”

You open your eyes as the last words leave your tongue, staring straight into the eyes of your own reflection.

The red gems glow radiantly, emitting a bright light that nearly blinds you. You squint, yet still unrelentingly stare into your eyes—or rather, your younger self's eyes. The fog swirls around you, swallowing you whole. You can’t see anything anymore, can’t even tell where you are. You feel as though your soul, your life’s very essence, gets sucked out of your body and into the Mirror.

You have the sensation of being shoved forward, but you don’t fall. In fact, you don't have a body anymore, no physical vessel to hold you. You try to look down, but you're greeted by the absence of your legs, sheer nothingness filling the space beneath you. You can’t really move around either, not in the way you’re used to. All you can do is simply float, your existence diminished to an untethered life force, with some semblance of what you once were.

Looking around, everything around you is white like before, but not in the suffocating way the fog was. Instead, you stand in a wide expanse of whiteness, a vast field of empty space. It stretches on forever, with no end in sight. It’s as if you’re stuck in a blank canvas, waiting for a painter to bring you to life.

The sound of wind whistles all around you, but not so much as a breeze actually comes. In fact, everything is completely unmoving. Despite the stifling stillness, you remain listening to the sound of the wind. If you strain hard enough, you can hear something almost like faint whispers filling your senses.

You look around again, ignoring the eerie voices. According to all the texts you read, after the Mirror accepts the wielder’s offering, they can ask for their answer. You’re not quite sure if this field of emptiness means your offering’s been accepted, but seeing as how you don’t feel insane yet, you think it’s safe to presume so. Still, your brain can’t help but point out that crazy people probably don’t feel like they’re crazy either.

Shaking off your doubts, you decide to continue with the process. After all, it is the only shot you have. You had memorized all the incantations for this particular spell earlier, repeating them over and over again until every word was engraved into your mind.

“Scire volo verum,” you recite. “I wish to know a truth.” Nothing happens.

You take a deep breath. “I wish to know why my mom left.”

The wind around you grows louder, howling even in the still air. The whispers increase in volume, once seemingly non-threatening and benign, now forming a cacophony of overlapping, chaotic voices. They grow distorted and grating, pushing in from every side, wrapping around you and slithering into your brain. You can’t block them out, no matter how hard you try; can’t swat them away, can’t make them leave, leaving you trying to tear them out of your head, despite not having hands anymore.

Suddenly, the white vastness turns a dark gray, and you start getting pulled downward towards something, like moving towards the center of a black hole. The whispers grow claws and fangs, clawing and scratching at your chest as they drag you down, making it hard for you to breathe. 

You try to fight back, but the voices now in your head keep pulling you down. They’ve taken over you, consuming you whole, and it’s impossible not to succumb to their will.

As they continue to drag you down into the abyss, you turn around—or rather, focus on the other side of your vague form of spiritual energy—and notice a tiny black dot very far down, but steadily growing bigger as you move towards it.

The whispers are screaming now, cries of agony of those who came before you, encompassing you whole and forcing you to the depths of this dark chasm.

And that’s when it hits you.

The others who used the Mirror did all end up getting the truths they sought.

And the truth was what drove them to madness.

You panic, trying to shake off the invisible hands of the whisperers, but they only tighten their hold around you. No matter how hard you fight them, they don’t relent in their endeavor of pulling you towards damnation.

“Are you really going to risk your future for knowledge of the past?” Morgie’s words echo in your head out of nowhere, haunting you with regret. You absolutely despise admitting it, but fuck, he was right.

Your last conversation with him replays in your mind, reminding you of your foolishness and idiocy. You had been so focused on getting what you wanted that you were indeed blinded to the truth that had been right in front of you this whole time.

“Your future is one worth living.”

His voice swirls around in your brain, drawing your attention away a little from the screaming voices in your head.

“You’re talented, and smart, and pretty, and you’re a good person.”

You realize these are probably the last words you’ll ever hear.

“You have a bright future ahead of you.”

You feel like crying again, the despair that’s taken root in you fighting to escape. Still, you don’t have an actual body in this dreamscape, so crying is impossible.

“It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”

You look back up the other direction and away from the black dot, resigned to your fate as you get dragged down into the chasm, deeper, deeper, deeper. At first, you think you’re imagining it; a mirage created by your mind to distract you from your pain. But as the descent continues, you begin to realize that it may not be an illusion after all.

In front of you, from the direction you came, a faint golden thread, seemingly made of pure light, stretches from your form of consciousness and ascends, up, up, up, all the way to the never-ending sky. With each of Morgie’s words you repeat in your head, the string of light grows stronger, brighter.

“You’re talented.”

The thread becomes thicker and more luminous, and you begin to realize that your descent has slowed down as well.

“And smart.”

The thread grows again, and you slow down a little more.

“And pretty.”

Your eyes follow the string upwards, and now, you see there’s a faint patch of white amidst the murky gray surrounding you.

“You’re a good person.”

The thread, still shooting out straight from your form, gleams with a shimmering golden light now. You notice that you’re no longer getting dragged downwards, but instead up, towards the whiteness. The screaming voices aren’t as insufferably loud anymore, either.

“You have a bright future ahead of you.”

You keep ascending, getting drawn faster and faster up. Morgie’s words serve as your lifeline, saving you from insanity.

“You’re not worth it.”

Now, you see that the white patch is actually an opening, an escape from this hell. The thread leads to it, its blinding brightness concealing whatever lies beyond.

“I know so.”

The last of his words give you the final push you need, sending you straight into the white light.

Your head snaps up with a sharp, terrified exhale. You look down, taking a moment to register that you’re back in your room. The locket dangles from one of your hands, the Mirror clutched in the other.

Fresh tears replacing the dried ones on your cheeks as you let out a sob of excruciating heartache, a sound of pure agony. The kind that no one should have to go through.

You look down at the cracked surface of the Mirror—a feeling of raw, unbridled anger set in the way you clench your jaw, and the way your face contorts with your cries—staring straight at the evil red eyes still gleaming at you.

With a swift motion, you lift your hand above your head, still grasping tight. Mustering together all your might, you hurl the Mirror towards the ground, watching as it shatters into a sea of glittering pieces.

“You’re late.”

You lean against the rough brick wall of an empty corridor, arms crossed, your figure partially obscured in shadows.

“And I’m surprised you’re still here,” Morgie quips, walking towards you. “Why’d you even want to talk with me? Especially through leaving that threatening note next to my nightstand for me to find when I woke up.”

He stops in front of you, leaving you to glower at him. Suddenly, with no warning, you lunge towards him, seizing the collar of his shirt and pushing him against the wall, your other hand summoning a rod of crackling lightning. 

His eyes widen with a startled gaze, but he doesn’t look quite as fearful as you want him to be. “Now, listen here.” You press the tip of the lightning bolt against his neck. “If you say a word of what happened last night to anyone—especially my father—I will kill you.”

Although you try to sound as menacing as possible, Morgie is unfazed. An amused smirk spreads across his face as he replies, “Alright, relax. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone anyways.”

His eyes trail down from your gaze to the locket dangling from your neck. He reaches out a hand, brushing his thumb along the tarnished metal as he softly says, “You didn’t go through with it, huh?”

You pull away, frustrated at his compassionate tone. “No. I decided…it was too risky. After all, what’s the point of figuring out the past if I can’t ever use that information, right?” A small smile spreads across Morgie’s face, that sympathetic, delicate look in his eyes again. Your irritation rising at this, you add, with a growl, “Although I will find a way to get my answer. I don’t care how bad I have to become, if you, or my father, or anyone stands in my way, you’ll truly see how evil I can be!”

Morgie keeps his unfettered appearance up. God, he’s so annoying! you mentally scream in frustration.

“Why are you so fixed on this?” he asks, tilting his head sideways and furrowing his brow as if trying to look past your cold, vengeful, rancorous mask and figure out the scarred little girl buried underneath.

You roll your eyes instead of answering. Never one to express emotions, the thought of opening up now about your years of pain feels terrifyingly vulnerable. It’s so much easier to just build walls around your heart and shut everyone out.

“Tell me this, and I promise I won’t tell a word of what happened last night to anyone,” Morgie bargains.

You narrow your eyes. “You already said you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Well, now I’m having second thoughts.”

You raise your arm again to summon another bolt of electricity, and Morgie lifts his hands, palms facing forward, in a gesture of surrender. “Relax, I won’t say anything, fine. But I just want you to talk to me. Bottling up your emotions like this isn’t healthy. Last night should be a good example of that.”

You shoot another glare at him, but can’t deny the fact that he’s right. Still, you hate the idea of how exposed and weak you'd be if you actually told someone how you feel.

“I’m not going to leave you, you know.”

You peer up at him, eyes wide in shock, as he continues. “I’ll stay by your side. You don’t have to worry about me abandoning you.”

Gulping, you nod, averting his gaze. Instead, you choose to look down at your shoes, studying the laces as you speak. “I…when my mom left, it was so sudden. No goodbyes, nothing. It was like one day, she just vanished.”

Your voice cracks, and Morgie places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, unknowingly pulling you closer to him. You swallow, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “My dad didn’t even care. It was as if she never existed. And everyone else…they all knew what happened. But they paid no attention whatsoever. They expected me to act normal, be all nice and sweet as if nothing changed. It made me hate them, hate all of them.”

“Do you hate me?”  

Morgie’s voice rings in the empty corridor, quiet yet speaking louder than a thousand shouts. You look up at him again, his image slightly blurred by the tears welling at the bottom of your eyes. You look up and you see the boy that stood by your side at your worst, who didn’t get scared or run away when you showed him your true colors.

The boy who said things no one’s ever said to you, whose words saved you from destroying yourself.

The boy who stands here, a concerned crinkle on his forehead as he awaits your answer. He doesn’t have to be here, listening to your problems. He doesn’t have to care.

But he does.

“No,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “No, I don’t hate you.”

In the suffocating sea of fake smiles and stifling pressures, Morgie is like a breath of fresh air. The first gulp of oxygen that you take as your head breaks free from the water.

“That’s a relief,” he responds, a trace of a smirk ghosting his features.

You give a small, bittersweet laugh. “Ever since my mom left and my dad stopped caring about me, I’ve never had anyone to talk to. No one seems to care about my emotions, or ask me how I’m doing. It’s as if I’m not a real person who has actual feelings.”

You’re on the verge of tears again, and Morgie must realize this, because he tries to lighten the mood by attempting—and failing—to inconspicuously wrap an arm around your shoulder as he says, “So, what I’m hearing from all this, is that you need a strong, reliable figure in your life to lean on, right? Like…a boyfriend or something?”

You duck under his arm, moving a good few feet away from him while fixing him with another glare. “Yeah no, I’m good.”

“Come on, that was smooth! You’ve got to admit it,” he whines, drawing out a small giggle from you. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve laughed like this: a true, heartfelt laugh, not the fake one that you do to appease other people under the pressure of society's expectations. It feels nice, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. 

All because of him.

“I don’t know, maybe I'll consider it with some time, if you treat me well,” you joke as you turn your head away with faux indifference. 

“Hey, a slim chance is better than no chance at all, right?” Morgie moves closer to you again, as if he can’t stand having so much space between the two of you. “I can see I’ve made some progress since last night, when you tried to kill me.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes at him.

“Oh yeah? Tell that to the bruises on my body.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so weak and sensitive,” you retort with a grin.

He nudges you playfully and you laugh again, shaking your head with an amused look. “Hey, I was wondering,” he asks, locking eyes with you, “what did you end up doing with the Mirror?”

You give a knowing grin, masking the undercurrent of what’s left unsaid. You vaguely respond, “It’s in a better place now.”

“If you say so,” Morgie replies, his smile returning to his face and lighting up his features once again. He continues to tease you, and you oblige him, keeping up the friendly banter as he walks you to class.

The Enchanted Lake glistens, reflecting the sun’s gentle rays with a bright shimmer. Deep down, under feet of clear blue water and various forms of aquatic life, in a far corner of the lake, lies a bag of glass shards. Next to it floats an ornate metal carving with a hollow center, reminiscent of something once set there. And at the top, two glowing red gemstones briefly flicker and die out, like watchful eyes finally closing.

end x

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a/n: how did this get so long...if you're still here, and if you actually read that entire thing, thank you so so soo much! I'm sending you a virtual cookie and a hug (if you're comfortable with it ofc) because you're absolutely awesome! <3 hope you enjoyed reading!

do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

[sprite-and-the-bunnydragons]

2 bunnies for the price of 1?

eeep I’m so excited for this one! @ixtaek asked for this, too, so I’ll answer it for both of you here if you don’t mind

The plot is that Ravio and Legend accidentally touch Twi’s shadow crystal at the same time and both get turned into bunnies. They then have to navigate Legend’s absurdly cluttered collection of items to find a moon pearl and change back. But there are eight other overly-curious Heroes in the house to avoid …

Most important part to me: Ravio is a purple bun with a little striped scarf

Have a little snippet!

———————————

No. No. No.

This couldn’t be happening.

“Aww, I didn’t know Legend had pets!” Wind crouched in front of the rabbits. Ravio’s nose twitched, like he was seriously considering coming closer to Wind. Legend thumped his hind legs in warning. “You’re even grumpy like the Vet. I think I’ve seen critters like you before on an island once. But they were all out in the sunshine or in nests underground, not a dusty junk room like this.”

Junk room? Legend thumped again. None of this was junk, it was his stuff. He would never collect junk.

Wind just giggled.

“Come here, I’ll take you outside where it’s nice. I could use a favor from Legend, anyway.”

Wind came at them with open arms. Legend squeaked and pressed himself farther into the corner, but it was useless. Wind scooped him and Ravio up and held them close.

Legend kicked and squirmed. At Legend’s current size, Wind’s grip was as hard as a moblin’s. Ravio made a churring noise that sounded too much like laughter.

“Oh, stop it. I’m nice, I promise.”

[sodamnradd]

How unfair, thought Pansy, leaning against the bookshelf as Granger slept. All she did was throw on a dress, twist her hair into some sloppy up-do, swipe on lipstick and she was all the boys could talk about.

One boy, specifically. Her boy.

Draco chuckled, entering the room and noticing Granger asleep on the armchair. “I told her red wine would knock her out.” He walked over, touching Granger’s shoulder.

She made a sleepy noise and nuzzled her face against her folded arms.

Pansy watched Draco’s expression change, looking at her like he was-he was—

Pansy swallowed, looking away.

Had Granger been awake, Draco would have made some daft schoolboy remark about her looking like a girl for once, getting her all riled up. She was insufferably easy to rile up. Pansy suspected it’s what Draco liked about her. He was forever the cause of everyone’s effect. Recently, of Hermione Granger’s alone.

She blamed McGonagall for making them co-heads, hammering the final nail on the coffin of their relationship.

“Maybe I should let her sleep,” said Draco. “She pulled an all-nighter setting up the Great Hall.”

“Then wouldn’t she want to enjoy it?” Pansy humoured him.

“I don’t think she cares much. Everything’s always for everyone else.”

“Explains why her hair looks like a bird’s nest,” Pansy muttered under her breath.

“Granger, c’mon.” Draco touched her exposed back, eyes heavy-lidded. The traitor was probably sporting a semi just glimpsing her knobby spine. “Nobody’s come to get her, right?”

“Not since I’ve been here,” replied Pansy, which was entirely too long. “Are we going, or what?”

“Would it…” Draco paused, and Pansy recognised that sheepish look in his eyes. The one he gave her whenever disappointment was imminent. “Is it alright if I escort her? I think she lied about having a date when I nagged her about it. I don’t…” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to talk to her, Pans.”

“Draco—” She didn’t want to hear this.

But Draco was in his own head. “I was trying to ask her, you know. But she thought I was making fun, implying nobody had asked her to the ball. I should have bought her flowers or sweets. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

“Because you’re a coward.”

He shot her an irritated look. But Pansy was through playing nice. “So you’re ditching me?”

“You’re gorgeous. You know a dozen blokes will line up to dance with you.” He ran an admiring gaze down her sleek high-necked robes. But it lacked any desire. “Besides, we already went once together before.”

“Fine. Whatever.” She raised her flask to her lips, telling herself it was the firewhisky that stung.

“Pansy—” Draco started, but then Granger startled awake. She patted her chin, as if checking for drool, and flushed furiously. “Did I miss it?!”

Draco plastered on a mischievous smirk. “We had a blast. Someone spiked the punch and even the professors got blitzed. Shame you slept straight through it.”

“What?” Granger gasped, leaping up to her feet. She noticed Pansy’s eye-roll and smacked Draco on the chest. “Not funny.”

He chuckled, catching her hand and holding it there. “Look at you.” His eyes trailed heatedly down her Muggle gown. “All dressed up. Where’s your hot date?”

Granger glanced at the door, disappointment flashing across her face. “He hasn’t shown up?”

“Don’t worry. Draco’s offered to take you.” Pansy couldn’t help herself. “I mean, Gods knows why.” She strode forward, flask still in hand. “But this idiot,” she pointed to Draco, “is fucking obsessed with you.”

“Pansy.” Draco dropped Hermione’s hand and made a grab for her. But Pansy slipped out of reach.

“So he’s ditching me to take you instead. And you know what? To hell with it. You have him. In fact, you’re a moron if you don’t because nobody will dote on you more. Trust me. He’s unbearable about it. Oh, I should have bought her flowers. Oh, I don’t know how to talk to her. Oh, I should be nicer to her. Oh, oh, oh.”

“I don’t sound like that.” Draco was fiery red now, unable to look in Granger’s direction.

Pansy twisted the cap on her flask and slipped it into her clutch. “Fuck you very much.” And then she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Where she came face to face with Longbottom.

She assessed his navy suit. All broad shoulders and long legs. He was holding a winter bloom.

“You’re Granger’s date?”

Longbottom cleared his throat. He had soft brown eyes. A boyish curl to his hair. “Yeah… erm… is she ready?”

“Change of plans.” Pansy plucked the flower from his hand and tucked it behind her ear. “Granger’s escorting Draco. You’re coming with me.”

(798 words, prompt Yule Ball from twitter)

[wayfayrr]

for some reason i've had another idea for a request LODGED in my damn brain ever since i wore my platforms the other week: [they are comfy to me, and the heel isn't very high, just the platform adds like- 4inches lol] someone who has tall ass shoes, and nobody notices until they take em off or something and suddenly they're shorter it sounds bad, cause why would someone be wearing platforms, but i swear i can run in em. [took some trial and error though....] also its just really goofy.

No because I'm just as stubborn with platforms the thing that gets you is stairs. I'm not entirely sure if I've mentioned it on here, but I'm a firm believer that Hylians are short. Time is seen as tall because as far as Hylians go? He is Twilight is seen as monsterously tall. Which mixes into your other ask as well - seeing as Time is fairly average height when compared to humans with Twi being tall even to humans (he grew up with humans so he adapted just a lil he's got a much higher milk tolerance sfvgf) but only Twi really knows this seeing as he grew up in ordon with humans and honestly? Means he has a reason to reach out to the reader in the first place, explaining most of the differences he noticed growing up between him and the rest of the villagers It's not the most but really at that point it's helpful to know anything. and it gets him closer to you which is what he really cares about honestly I write the chain as yandere's most of the time really, but this scenario where he's reader's best hope and they naturally get closer to him? I could see it happening really it's because he can't have a repeat of midna someone from another world stealing his heart and leaving him forever ha nope

As for platforms? that'll be fun to explain to them >:) this turned out a little bit more Twi centric than I meant for it to be but it was so fun to write and flowed so naturally !! <33 [masterlist]

“[Name]? We’re about to have breakfast, you’ll probably want to come get some before we leave the inn. Time’s saying that we’re going to be walking a lot today”

“Hm? Yeah I’m coming wild.”

His eyes looked as if they were about to fall out of his head when I opened the door. Is there something off about my appearance? I’ve just woken up I guess so maybe I just look a bit dishevelled, but after travelling with them this long? Would that really be enough to set them off like this?

“You’re shorter! Are you alright? Twi said humans are way different compared to Hylians but I didn’t assume he meant you shrink sometimes! Come on we need to go show them to know if you’re gonna be okay.”

“Wait no wild I-”

There isn’t even time for me to argue my own point with how fast they’re pulling me over to the others, his strength is impressive even for hylians I’ve been told and that isn’t something I’ll argue with. But what is he on about me ‘shrinking’? I haven’t changed height at all… He’s never seen me without my platforms. That’d do it.

“TWILIGHT! [NAME] SHRANK. IS THAT SOMETHING HUMANS CAN DO? ARE THEY GOING TO BE ALRIGHT?”

“Wild really I’m going to be fine. If you’ll just let me explai-”

“YOU CAN SHRINK? Why didn’t you tell us [name]?”

Now winds come over - great. I’ll have to count on Twi’s glare being enough to give me time to speak. 

“Wild what are you on about humans can’t - oh. You did shrink. How did that happen?”

Bingo. Now I can hopefully clear this mess up somewhat.

“I didn’t shrink. I’m just not wearing my platforms. They add to my height when I wear them, I didn’t realise this was the first time Wild’s seen me without them. Their worry was pretty cute though.”

“So you didn’t shrink..? Can I try them on?”

“Nah wind, not only are they my only pair of shoes but I think you’d break your neck if you tried to walk in them.”

He really does look kind of like a cat when he pouts, you’d assume he’s just had a lemon slice shoved in his mouth rather than being told no for his own safety. It’s nice to see that despite having to become a hero at such a young age he still acts his age.

“Then how do you wear them? You’ve been walking them for so long without issue?”

“They’re your only shoes?”

“Yeah they are Twi, there’s no issue either wild. They’re comfortable to wear and I’m used to them anyway”

Twi looks as if he’s gearing up for a lecture if the look on his face is anything to go by, the very same one that’s a warning for wild when he’s done something questionable. A short sigh, a shake of his head and it quickly softens up into some sort of lovestruck expression.

“Darlin’ It isn’t that that I’m worried ‘bout. It’s not a good idea to only be travelling with a single pair, what if they get damaged or lost? I’ve got a spare set that should fit you, you can have them.”

“You don’t have to go that for me twi, I’m sure theres somewhere here I could just buy a pair.”

“It really ain’t an issue. It’ll save you breaking in a new pair so it’s for the best really.”

There’s more to what he’s saying I can feel it, but I can’t bring it up around the others like this so answers will have to wait. 

“You don’t wanna eat while you’re, only wearing a pair of socks you? Let’s go and get them for you quickly.”

His hand is so much softer than Wild’s and his touch is more tender and is that? Oh, he’s blushing, there really is something more to this isn’t there; does he like me or something? The walk to his room in the inn isn’t long, shorter than the one to my own. 

“Give me a second darlin’ and I’ll get you them.”

 “Of course, I’m not gonna get mad at you for taking too long to get me a gift. Seriously though, thanks for this link.”

If I thought he was red before he’s downright glowing now, his face from the tips of his ears to the lowest part of his neck that I can see have gone crimson red. Matching how his rummaging through his bag has gotten ever so more frantic, his patience for finding the said boots for me gone like ashes in the wind. Then before I know it a pair of leather boots are being thrust into my arms by someone who can only really be described as a blushy mess at the moment. It’s cute. He’s cute.

“They’re wonderful thank you again Twi, really.”

“You can ah - You can call me link when we’re alone together like this darlin’.”

“If you want me to then link. I’ll just put these on then we can go join the others, hopefully, they’ve saved us some food.”

These are so soft, are they lined with something? They have to be right? It feels like some kind of fur, they should be nice to walk in so I can save my platforms some wear. It makes a lot of sense to try to keep my belongings from home safe, just to have some memories to look back on. 

“Hey link, mind me asking what they’re lined with?”

“Wolf fur darlin’”

“Is it your fur?”

How is it possible he’s gotten even more red? Answers my question though. Why would he give me something lined with his own fur?

“I - That doesn’t bother you does it?”

[kismetologyy]

Little Secret

--<3--<3--<3--<3--<3--

The poll is finally done, so here's a part of my Twi x Male!Reader

I didn't quite finish it since I ran out of ideas🥲

but I hope you like it!

——————————————————————

Notes: Twi and reader are the same age; male!reader; reader is seen as generally smaller than Twi; bi Twilight? Bi Twilight.; secret realtionship which is really unnecessary; getting caught; being silly together

Twilight is glad to finally be back in Ordon Village, his lovely home. He can't wait to see all of the familiar faces and places, and of course, his beloved boyfriend.

You two met not too long ago, but it sparked between you right from the beginning when you first moved to Ordon. Almost everyone in town thinks you two have something going on, and you do.

But the catch is that you haven't made it public yet, acting as 'roommates' when in reality you always snuggle up together or goof around while working on the ranch.

It isn't really necessary to keep it a secret, since most people would be really supportive, but you've decided to keep doing it for now until you've figured something out.

He might be home, but now he has the Chain in tow, hoping they don't find out just yet, even though he's sure that they would be accepting of his unique relationship. But there's always a what if that stops him from actually being open about his same sex relationship.

You were relaxing at the ranch after taking care of everything around the ranch, waiting for him to come back soon.

The sound of some knocking at the door snaps you out of your thought. You feel giddy and excited to see him, hoping its actually Twilight waiting behind the door.

He's been gone for so long you can't wait to throw your arms around him and kiss him over and over again.

...

... Until you opened the door and saw 8 other men with him at the front door, with all of them looking awfully similar to each other.

"Uhm... everyone, this is my... roommate!"

Twilight informed the others nervously. Giving you a quick side glance, signaling you to play along.

"Yep. I'm [Name], nice to meet you all."

You greet them and wave a bit before stepping to the side to let them in. The boys quickly fill the room while most of them look around curiously after your allowance.

You had quickly leaned all their names, or well, their nicknames. But it was still quite confusing having to call your beloved Link *Twilight*.

You wait for a moment until asking the question you've been thinking of for the past minute.

"It's already pretty late, should I cook something for dinner?"

Twilight was about to gladly offer his help just to spend some more time with you, but Wild quickly came first.

"I could help! The name's Wild, just to fresh up your memory."

Wild suggested and stepped forward, with Twilight deciding to keep his mouth shut so he wouldnt raise any suspicion.

"Alright then. How about some fresh pumpkin soup? Im sure Link has told you about it before." You say to the others and take a look at all of them.

"Let's see if it's as good as his."

The oldest says. He seems to have red and blue markings on his face, and is also noticably taller than the average Hylian.

"I'll try my best to compete."

You say and let out a small chuckle as you walk to the kitchen with Wild in tow, giving Twilight one more sorry look while all the others scattered around the ranch.

After a while of cooking enough soup foe everyone, you call all the boys into the kitchen, which soon gathered at the dinner table to try your pumpkin style soup.

All of them sat around the dinner table as you put the cooking pot in the middle and make sure to give every Link enough to be full for the day. It was nice sitting with so many people at the table, as if you were family. Seeing all of their expressions as they try your soup made you giggle.

You soon sat down next to Twilight after giving everyone a fair portion to eat. Twilight sneeaks his hand on your thigh while enjoying your self-made pumpkin soup. It had a more sweet aroma to it and seemed like the perfect at home medicine.

After dinner, everyone has scattered once again, leaving you and Twilight in the kitchen with the dirty dishes. There was no one here with you two, so the two of you were enjoying your alone time with some playful teasing.

You bump your hips together with his from the side playfully and he gets you back with a poke in your side, making you both chuckle.

"I'm glad you're back. I missed your *oh so muscular body*. And you too of course."

You say to tease him a little bit, still feeling quite giddy.

"I missed you too, especially this."

The rancher replied before patting your rear, making you gasp and nudge his side.

"Really now? What about this?"

You replied and put your hands against his chest before leaning in for a long awaited kiss.

Twilight immediately reacted and pulled you closer by your waist, basically melting in your hands.

Both of you were really getting into it, ignoring the world around you before both of you started to hear footsteps approaching the kitchen.

You both quickly create some distance and act like nothing has happened.

You soon see the same tall blonde man from earlier round the corner. You could even mistake him as the father of all these boys.

"You two are taking awfully long. Do you need any help?"

The man asked with his soothing voice.

"We're fine."

"Everything's alright."

You and Twilight state before putting the remaining dishes into the cupboards after cleaning all of it properly. You lean closer to Twilight and whisper to him.

"So that's your 'Dad'?"

You whisper to your secret significant other teasingly, but it seems like Time heard you.

"Do you really call me your father when I'm not around?"

The man speaks up again and smiles softly as he walks over to give you a firm handshake.

"Please, call me Time."

You nod slightly and shake his hand.

"[Name], if you didn't hear me earlier."

You answer and chuckle a little but still feel kind of nervous, since he and your Link are probably very close.

Time seems to notice the awkward behavior between the two men but decides to ignore it.

"Ah, right. I came here to tell you two that we will be going into town to restock our supplies."

The older man looks at Twilight and then at you.

"Do you wish to come with us?"

He flashed you a quick smile while waiting for you answer.

"Oh, thank you, but I have to decline your offer. I still have some work to do here at the ranch."

You politely decline his invitation before Twilight takes the opportunity.

"I think I should stay here too. I already have enough supplies, and [Name] over here might need some help."

Twilight looks over to you and flashes you a smile. And you do the same.

"Yes. That would be really nice."

Time looks between the two of you, already suspecting something, but showing no signs of it.

"I understand we will try to be back in an hour to assist you later."

Both you and Twilight nod and glance at each other, trying to hide your smiles.

You're finally gonna be alone, which will definitely result in lots of kisses and hugs.

"Don't do anything while we're gone."

Time says jokingly and he leaves the room, making both of you blush.

It wasn't long until all of the boys left. Leaving you and Twilight with the ranch all to yourselves.

After waiting for a minute or two, you pretty much just throw yourself at your boyfriend, feeling needy after having to wait for him for so long.

"Whoa there darlin'. Don't just attack me like that."

He chuckles and gives you a toothy smile, his canines showing that you love oh so much.

"I'm sorry but I couldn't resist."

You answered softly and hugged him tighter.

"I missed you so much."

You muffled into his chest, making his cheeks turn red.

"Missed you too sweetheart."

He replies and picks you up to carry you to the couch.

"I can walk myself, you know."

You spoke but still showed a small smirk on your lips.

He then let's himself fall down on the couch while you're still laying safely in his arms, a squeak escaping your lips.

You were about to speak up as Twilight starts smothering you in kisses out of nowhere, but of course you didn't mind getting so much affection from your silly boyfriend.

After quite a while of being touchy feely and messing up the neatly placed blankets and pillow on the couch, both of you decided to go a more calmer route. Which mean picking out your favourite book and reading to him while he lays on your flat chest, not being able to resist squeezing your sides with his hands.

It was amazing getting to cuddle your beloved again after so long. But you still had lots of catching up to do.

Just as Twilight was falling asleep on you while you were starting another chapter, you hear someone open the door to the Rancher's home.

Twilight was already asleep at this point, but you couldn't just wake him up again. He's just too cute!

Before you could choose what decision to make, Warriors had turned the corner, standing at the foot of the couch and looking at Twilight as he's sleeping soundly on his roommates chest.

"Oh... sorry to interrupt."

Warriors blurted out. His body doesn't know how to respond to this sight.

And you don't either.

——————————————————————

And another is done!!

This is not as good as I wanted it to be, but it's okay ig

I currently don't have any ideas so please recommend me some stuff to make😓

Bye Bye!

[crazylittlejester]

I come in offering of your hardest prompt ever: let wars take a nap

But fr i think if would be funny if wars and twi were out doing something late and wars just could not stay awake so twi has to give him a piggyback back to the chain and by the time they back twi is so tired he just collapse on his cot with wars still on his back

oh no oh goodness *panics* hardest prompt i’ve ever gotten in my life 😔/hj

I hope I successfully gave them a nice nap. Here you go!! (701 words)

The hardest days weren’t always after lots of monster attacks and fighting, but often the day AFTER, when they were exhausted and spent a full day walking and on edge, prepared for an attack that would never come. It left them all tense and stressed out, and Twilight found it near impossible to relax after days like that, days like today.

He was pacing the camp, walking back and forth along the same small trail his boots were carving into the earth, lost in thought when Warriors came over and tapped him on the shoulder. Twilight jumped involuntarily, shooting the captain a glare, but the other man just stared back with a shit eating grin.

“We have some time before Wild and Time are done with dinner,” Warriors pointed out, “and I saw a small pond a little ways back. What do you say we go check it out?”

Twilight looked behind him at the rest of the group. Legend was passed out asleep on top of Hyrule, and Sky was playing his harp close by. Four and Wind were talking quietly with each other and, as the captain had said, Time and Wild were working together on dinner. Surely if he and Warriors left for a short while it’d be okay… right?

Before Twilight could properly make up his mind, Warriors gently grabbed his hand and started walking away, leading him off through the woods. When they reached the pond they both got distracted by a bright red butterfly, and spent a few minutes trying to get it to land in their hands. The butterfly eventually ended up landing in Warriors’s hair, and the captain shrieked when it had flown directly at his face, causing Twilight to laugh so hard his stomach hurt. The glare the captain shot him did absolutely nothing with the pretty red butterfly sitting on his head.

They messed around for a little while longer, until all the tension had seeped out of Twilight’s body and he felt himself truly able to relax. They’d taken their boots off and splashed around a bit in the shallow water, and Twilight had gotten so focused in making shapes in the sand that he hadn’t noticed the captain disappear.

“W- Wars?” He asked, confused, looking all around the pond to see where his brother had disappeared off to. When he found him he let out a laugh, quickly covering his mouth with his hand to stop himself from being too loud.

Warriors had gone to sit up against a tree, and he seemed to have fallen asleep; his chin was resting against his chest, putting his neck at a rather odd and uncomfortable angle, and he was breathing slowly. He must’ve tired himself out and crashed.

“Wars,” Twilight called, nudging the captain. The man didn’t stir at all so he tried again, shaking his shoulder gently. “Cap’n.”

Blue eyes flew wide open, looking around frantically. “Huh? What?”

“We gotta go back to camp,” the rancher told him, pulling his boots back on. It would really suck to end the day by stepping on something sharp on the forest floor. “C’mon.”

Warriors groaned, sounding annoyed, and flopped down onto the ground.

Twilight rolled his eyes. “Do ya want me to carry you? ‘Cause I will.”

The captain looked up at him with wide hopeful eyes. “Would you really??”

“Yeah, but only if you get up right now.”

He didn’t think he’d seen Warriors move so fast before, and that was how he ended up carrying the captain on his back back to camp. The longer he walked the harder it was for Twilight to keep his eyes open. Warriors wasn’t heavy by any means, in fact the captain was alarmingly light for someone who was very close to Twilight in height, but with how exhausted he was, the rancher probably would’ve tired quickly carrying just a small bag.

The second he reached the clearing where everyone had set up camp, Twilight flopped down on his bed roll, Warriors landing on top of him. His brother grumbled at the rough landing, wiggling around until the two of them ended up cuddled up together. Within seconds, both of them were fast asleep.

[wishyoudwell]

Where did your band idea for LU come from? I love it so much! I literally cannot stop thinking about it. Also, what kind of music does each band play. Does Downfall play like hard rock?

Thank you!

My idea for the AU came from two things: 1. I like rock music 2. I watched a lot of band girl anime growing up (and still do). The drama these girls can have is awesome and I thought it’d be just a fun idea to superimpose that drama onto the Links. Plus it also acts as somewhat of a modern au(?)

The Zelda games themselves are all really musical and a lot of them feature an instrument in the game even if it isn’t significant to main gameplay. Music is just really important to this series. So (almost) every Link is musically talented as well, or can play an instrument in their game! Must be in the job description…they all value it at least

As for genres that’s a bit hard to explain since. I’m not very good at it . I was mainly thinking of singular bands themselves rather than specific genres as I was creating the bands, but I’ll try to explain as well as I can:

DownFall plays a range from anything adjacent to (hard) rock, hardcore, alt, to anything that can fall under the umbrella of Emo and Punk, I’d say.

They’re a pretty edgy band with some pretty heavy and emotional sound despite their unconventionally cute mascot! That’s their main sound anyway, but they’re not against experimentation. They’ve got a pretty solid identity. Hyrule is surprisingly good at writing lyrics. Legend is the most into this type of music, and he’s really proud of how far they’ve come.

CHAIN uuh…is in a struggle, with their musical identity. They’ve not got a set sound or genre because none of the members of the band can decide on what exactly it is they want to play and represent. Everyone has different ideas and tastes that always lead them to circle back to the beginning.

Whereas Wars would like to try a more heavy sounding approach Twi and Time prefer softer tunes. Sky doesn’t mind either but wants to write about mainly nice things. Wind wants to do covers. Neither of them can agree. Wind eventually just composes something random, and then they go with that. They’re kind of…winging it every step of the way and it somehow works out.

One thing for sure is that they also play rock, although it’s nowhere near sad like DownFalls is. They have a lot more pop elements in their music.

The lyrics are sappier (even if Wind wants something cooler, no one can argue if Sky comes up with a set of nice lyrics). They’d also eventually want to implement more jazzy instruments into their music.

No one wants to let Twi make a country song though. (Except maybe Time.)

TLDR: CHAIN is really experimental. Maybe a every album is a different genre type thing.

[shadowsageingempress]

I am crawling out of my dark cave to fulfil your ask game-wish.

1, 2, 3, 7, 8, 12, 16 and 19 for Link Twi?

Thanks for the ask. I’ll gladly talk about the best boy and then go to bed.

1. Why wouldn’t I like him? He’s got a cool design, he’s one of the nicest video game characters I can think of, and he can turn into a wolf.

2. Young me would probably say that he can become a wolf. While that’s obviously cool, now I think my favorite thing about him is that he’s a genuinely nice person. Not only does his entire hero’s journey start because he wants to find his friends, but him being so trusting and kind to Midna despite her initial harshness speaks volumes about him.

3. The only canon thing I don’t like is that he doesn’t follow Midna into the Twilight Realm at the end of the game. Things probably would have been hard for a while, but I imagine they bout would have been happier in the long run.

7. I like how the fandom shows off that he has different parts to his personality. He’s a hero and a great warrior, but he’s also a big softie deep down.

8. I don’t like when the fandom portrays him as some sad, mopey emo boy. Sure, he has every right to be sad (especially in stories following the official canon ending), but making that all of his personality is a huge disservice to him.

12. I headcanon that Twi is covered in freckles. He spends a lot of time in the sun, so I think it fits.

16. This might sound weird to some people, but Twilight Princess ZeLink is one of my least favorite ships in general. They barely interact, and when they do, there’s no chemistry between them.

19. Aside from the previously mentioned relationship (or lack thereof) that Two has with Zelda, I don’t hate any other bond he has with any other characters. Obviously there’s MidLink, which is definitely important, but the way he interacts with other characters are all pretty nice.

[freezingwhitefire]

This is unlikely to be any longer but here is a little thing I wrote where a very young (maybe 5 years old) Hero of Time meets the Hero of Twilight after his adventure.

Link looked around anxiously. Saria always told him to avoid going into the forest without her but the golden wolf seemed so familiar and warm. It seemed safe and there was a voice that sounded somewhat like hers that told him that it was okay as long as he followed the wolf.

He looked around tearfully, one hand sneaking up towards his mouth where he could gnaw on his fingers. Mido always teased him for it, and Saria always tried to stop him but Link wondered how he was supposed to think without doing it. As he tried to figure out how to get home footsteps came from behind him and Link turned to see who it was, hoping that it was one of the other Kokiri. He looked up and up and blinked confused as he stared up at the person. Link had never seen such tall people in the Forest outside of Stalfos and those were always a good distance from him. The person knelt down so they could see each other better and smiled.

Somehow the warmth that the wolf seemed to give off came from this person too and Link stumbled forwards a few steps. The man held out his arms and easily scooped Link up to hug him. Link sniffed and buried his face against the man’s shoulder.

“Easy little one, you’re safe.”

The voice was deeper than everyone aside from the Great Deku Tree’s and Link felt like it was supposed to sound like that. He sniffed again and tried to keep from crying more because he had been so scared before the man showed up and now he felt like he was safe.

“How about you come with me? I have some food at home if you’re willing to wait.”

Link nodded and tightened his hand into the man’s shirt. He felt the man press his mouth against his head and felt warmed. He knew that it was a gesture of affection. Cautiously he leaned back and looked up at the man’s face taking in the dark lines and the softness that his smile had caused to appear. Shyly he poked his cheek and tried to push it up a little into that smile again. The man laughed softly and muddled his cheek gently causing Link to giggle.

“There you are. Are you okay, Kit?”

Kit? Link tilted his head curiously and the man seemed sheepish.

“Sorry, you just made me think of a fox kit.”

Oh. Link thought about that and smiled happily. He liked foxes, they always knew where fairies played and would show him to them if he asked nicely. Though he needed their help less and less. He gave the man a nod.

“It’s okay for me to call you Kit?”

Link nodded quickly and the man nodded too.

“Okay, Kit. I’m called Link.”

Link trilled softly, the man called Link grinned at that and bumped his nose against Link’s cheek.

“Maybe I should have called you songbird instead.”

Link wrinkled his nose at that and the man laughed.

“Is your name also Link?”

Link looked down at his hand shyly but nodded.

“I see, well I also am called… Twilight. So you can call me Twi or Twilight if that makes it easier.”

It did. Link felt his ears perk up and smiled brightly again. Twilight was also smiling at him.

“How about you stay with me for a little while, Kit?”

Link nodded contently. So far Twilight was much nicer than Mido and some of the other Kokiri and Link was happy to stay with him until the wolf or the golden light took him home again.

Besides… Saria couldn’t get mad at him until Link got back. With that thought in mind Link snuggled closer to Twilight and closed his eyes. Twilight chuckled and hugged him closer, nuzzling his cheek affectionately.

[links-in-time]

Links in Time

Part 13

The boys are cooped up in the bunker like restless cuccos, while Maari and Zelda search her library. Wars and Maari have a little heart to heart.

"What do you think she's like?" Twi asked Wars, tugging on his boots as he sat on the edge of his bed in the room they were sharing.

"Who?" Wars replied, deciding weather or not to wear his scarf.

"Zelda," Twi reiterated.

"Oh, I don't know. What's your Zelda like?"

"Well, she's a princess. Powerful, brave, beautiful," Twi sighed, resting his chin on his fist.

"Sounds like you've got a crush there buddy?" Wars teased.

"I dunno, everything was so complicated and messy back in my time. What about you? You didn't fall for your Zelda?"

"I may have at one point. She was a fierce fighter and she never wavered in her belief that we would win the war. But I guess in the end she was still a princess and I don't think I ever felt comfortable with the idea of being a prince or king."

"What about Maari?" Twi probed, raising an eyebrow as he got ready to get up.

"What about her?" Wars replied, his tone of voice guarded, conveying an air of warning to his room mate.

"You seem to be getting close to her that's all," Twi remarked innocently.

"So? She's a great person, and she's interesting."

"I know, and I like her too. But," Twi sighed.

"What is it rancher? Spit it out," Wars frowned.

"I... Just don't get too attached alright. We both know that we'll have to leave this time and this Hyrule at some point. You can be pretty mopey at the best of times, I'd hate to have to deal with a heartbroken Captain." Twi teased.

"Nice, real nice Twi," Wars responded, slapping Twi with the end of his scarf.

"I'm just saying, joking aside. Be careful okay."

"I'll take care of my emotions. Now can we please drop this?" Wars groaned, as he got to his feet and headed for the door, scarf discarded on the bed.

***

Maari met Riju in the throne room earlier than she would have liked, but a servant had come to her door just after dawn and woken her. Riju explained that she didn't want to draw attention to the boys by making too many visible trips down to the bunker. Heading down early in the morning would reduce the number of prying eyes.

"Hello, it's Maari, isn't it," Zelda greeted her, as the ex-princess skipped down the stairs.

"Yes, your... Um... Apologies, I'm not sure how I should address you now," Maari stammered, all at once in awe of meeting Zelda in such a private setting, but also reminded that she was just a normal Hylian.

"That's alright, please just call me Zelda. There is no princess here anymore," she insisted.

"Am I invisible now?!" Riju scoffed from the doorway.

"Sorry Riju," Zelda chuckled. She turned back to Maari and held out her hand for her to shake. "I'm very glad to meet you Maari. I heard from Purah that there was a Sheikah warrior travelling with Link. Or is it Links? Purah can get so excitable sometimes her messages don't make a lot of sense."

"I'm sure everything will be somewhat clearer when you meet them all," Maari tried to assure her.

"Come on, I don't want to be gone from the palace for too long," Riju hurried the others.

They made their way down to the bunker together. Maari was surprised that this time there was no guard on the door. Though she supposed if Riju didn't want anyone to know the boys were in the city a guard would draw unwanted attention. Inside there was hardly any noise. The stone walls of the bunker were silent and still.

"Don't tell me they're still asleep?!" Riju asked incredulously. She huffed in irritation and proceeded to bang on the nearest door. "Any wandering heroes awake in here?!"

An instant later the door opened and Wars actually managed to catch Riju's hand mid swing.

"Yes your highness, we're awake," he replied politely. Quickly releasing the girl's wrist and giving her a short bow. "Come on Twi."

Twilight followed in the Captain's steps as they both left their room. Next door Wild and Time appeared.

"We've been up for a little while. It's difficult to tell what time it is underground," Time explained. "Not sure if the others are up yet. I'll just go and make sure they're presentable. Oh, you must be Zelda, it's a pleasure to meet you. Wild's told us a great deal about you." Time said as his attention shifted to Zelda.

The older hero gave both women a bow before turning towards the larger sleeping chamber. Twilight remembered his manners and bowed to Riju. He wasn't sure how to greet Zelda so he nodded courteously at her.

"Wild?" Zelda asked, "who's Wild?"

"That would be me," Wild stepped forwards. "Hey Zel."

They all collectively held their breath waiting to witness this reunion. At last Zelda stepped towards Link and threw her arms around his shoulders. For a second he hesitated, then reciprocated, wrapping his arms around her slender form. Though he still seemed to be hesitating. He glanced up at Maari for a second. She nodded and a moment later they drew apart.

"It's so good to see you Link. When Paya told me you were coming I thought you would teleport straight here. But I didn't realise there were so many of you."

"I forgot about teleporting us here," Wild realised.

"You..." Wars began, unable to select a polite word for what he wanted to call his brother.

"But you're here now and Paya mentioned you wanted to look at my books?" Zelda seemed intrigued. "Which surprised me because I don't think I've ever seen you read. Not once."

"Can you read Wild?" Wars asked, a sly smile creeping across his face.

"Of course I can read. I just don't get the time." He retorted, then turned his attention back to Zelda.

Meanwhile Time had turned the rest of the gang out of their beds. They hurried to get dressed and make themselves presentable. Everyone except Sky who kept refusing to get out of bed.

"S'too early," he groaned.

Since they were to be meeting a princess Time reminded them all to be on their best behavior. Specifically instructing Legend not to ask what price he could get for Riju's royal jewelry.

They all assembled in the dining hall where Wild started a fire and unpacked some supplies for breakfast. Riju and Zelda greeted each of the boys in turn, learning their nicknames and enjoying the same surprise that Maari had experienced as they realised how similar they all were.

Wild cooked rashers of bacon and fried eggs for everyone. (no bacon for Maari, or Wind surprisingly) While everyone sat and ate Riju and Zelda attempted to get some answers out of Maari and the boys.

"And so we set off to close the dark portals and look for answers to why this happened to us in the first place," Time concluded their story.

Maari wondered just how many times he had told it now. It sounded quite rehursed and he hardly paused to think.

"None of us can go home and rest until this last mystery is solved. We need to figure out the origins of the portals and why they keep springing up randomly, spitting out monsters from all of our eras where they don't belong." Twilight continued.

"Sounds intriguing. Do you have anything to go on?" Zelda asked.

"Hyrule and I can close the portals with simple magic. Which suggests they were created with magic familiar to all or most of our eras. When they disappear they leave traces of runes burnt into the ground. I assume they're part of the spell which conjures them in the first place," Legend explained, taking a large bite of a bacon and egg sandwich.

"Did you make notes of what these runes looked like?" Zelda asked, her excitement was clearly visible. She grasped her hands together, he eyes wide and a childlike smile spread across her face.

"I took some pictures of them on the Purah Pad. They should be saved in it's memory," Wild informed her, pointing at the device attached to Zelda's hip.

Zelda picked up Link's Purah Pad and started flicking through the images. She was surprised to see quite a lot of photos of scenery. Not just from their Hyrule, but also of places she didn't recognise. At last she found some images of interesting runes scorched into rock and grass.

"You mean these?" She asked, turning the pad around for the others to see.

"Yeah that's it," Wild replied.

"I don't recognise the language. But if there's any record of it anywhere it will be in my library." She assured them.

Zelda was eager to get into her library and start looking for signs of the mysterious runes. But Riju reminded her that the boys couldn't leave the bunker. They settled on the idea of Maari helping Zelda with her search. Then during the evening they could bring whatever they found down to show the boys.

"If we find anything," Maari said quietly to herself.

She hadn't said anything to the others but she had her doubts about finding anything pointing to the mysterious dark portals. Of course she was hopeful, but she was also realistic. They had travelled across so many different eras of Hyrule. How likely was it really that they were going to find a clue in this time?

Still Maari accompanied Zelda and Riju to the library Zelda had assembled in the palace. She had taken over an unused wing of the palace and filled it with the ancient royal library, as well as tomes and scrolls she had collected from all over Hyrule. There were shelves and stacks of books filling the room. Hardly any floor was visible as crates filled the rest of the avaliable space.

"I haven't finished unpacking and organising everything yet. I'm mostly working on my own, but the research teams come and help when they can spare the time." Zelda said, as she picked her way across the room.

Maari stared around the space, daunted by the new mountain she was facing on her journey.

Riju had to excuse herself from the search due to previous engagements and regular duties. Leaving Zelda and Maari to search the library alone. Their approaches to the search were quite different. Zelda looked through each book and tome methodically, hardly skipping a page as she compared ancient texts to the runes in Wild's photos. Maari on the other hand would pick up a book, skim through it, then place it on either a pile of possibilities or duds. They worked this way through the whole day, without finding anything remotely similar to the runes the boys had seen.

"I hate to say it Zelda, but we're not finding anything." Maari sighed.

"We haven't found anything yet, you're right. But there's plenty more material to search though," Zelda replied, trying to remain positive.

"Well, it's getting late and the boys will want to know how we've done. We should go down and see them," Maari suggested.

"I guess you're right. But I don't like going down there with nothing to show for a day's work."

"I know it's not what we hoped for, but given how much you have here," Maari gestured around the room, "I'm not that surprised really."

Zelda let out a long sigh before dragging herself to her feet and making her way to the door. Maari followed and together they returned to the bunker.

After just one day stuck underground, the boys already seemed to have cabin fever. Wind, Legend and Hyrule had gone off exploring the tunnels under the city, Sky and Warriors were sparring in the main square, while the others were doing weapons and gear maintenence in their own corners.

There were mixed reactions to the lack of news from Zelda's research. But most of them realised that it had been unlikely she would have found anything on the first day. While Zelda had returned to the palace, Maari stayed behind to eat supper with the boys. She had grown used to sharing meals with them and enjoyed listening to their stories and banter while they ate. She was even starting to feel comfortable joining in.

"Yes, but have you ever had to eat one?" Wild demanded, pointing his spoon accusingly at Wars.

"Of course not!" He replied, clearly disgusted.

"Why in Hylia's name would you EAT a fairy?!" Time demanded.

"I was in seriously bad shape alright. Besides, no one ever told me they were intelligent. No fairy ever protested before!"

Maari laughed, clutching her rather full stomach. She laughed so hard she almost choked on her dinner. Four laughed at her struggle but managed to pass her a cup of water to ease her coughing.

"Easy Maari, this gang can't lose any members!" He smiled and patted her on the shoulder.

Maari looked around at the boys, they all seemed to agree with Four's statement. They grinned warmly and nodded their assention. Maari couldn't help but smile back. When she set out from Kakariko she never thought she would grow so close to the Links.

When time came for everyone to turn in for the night Maari hung around a little longer. Wind and Sky were the first to hit the sack. Twi, Wars, Time and Wild stayed up a little longer.

"I suppose we should all get to bed as well," Wild suggested, slapping his hands on his thighs ready to get to his feet.

"Well, as far as I can tell it's still a little early," Wars replied, turning and searching in his pouch for something. "And I think we deserve a little treat, don't you guys?" He asked, waving a small bottle in front of them.

"I don't think that's wise," Time replied, though he also didn't seem tired.

"What's wise isn't always what's good for you Old Man," Wars responded, reaching across the table for some clean cups. He started to pour a shot of liquid into each cup then attempted to hand them out. "Come on Twi, I know I can tempt you."

"Alright, but just one. I don't want a repeat of last time," Twi warned.

"Last time?" Maari asked, curious as she considered taking a drink herself.

"Oh no, that's not a story I want to share," Twilight insisted shaking his head as he attempted to put the cup back down.

Wars stopped him and added more to Twi's cup.

"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad. Drink up rancher."

"You're encourageable Captain," Twi sighed, raising his cup to his lips at last.

Wild also took a cup and after a little more convincing Time decided to partake as well.

"Maari?" Wars asked, a little uncertain.

" Why not? I've had a long, long day." She shrugged and took the cup from his hands. Their fingers brushed as the cup passed between them.

The five adults sat with each other for a while, sharing more serious stories, and a few funny ones to pass away the evening. Everyone except Twilight had a second drink. He insisted that even the thought of more booze made him feel nauseated. This made Maari more eager to know what had happened, but she liked Twi and didn't want to embarrass him by pushing his boundaries.

"Alright kids, now it really is time for bed," Time insisted, setting his cup down and standing up. He patted Wars on the shoulder as he walked past. "Thanks for he drink Cap. See you all in the morning."

Wild and Twi were next to hit they hay. Leaving Wars and Maari sitting in silence.

"Karu used to call me Mar when we were kids by the way," Maari said, staring into her mostly empty cup.

"Really?" Wars asked, glad that she had spoken first.

"Mm, I noticed you calling me it the other day."

"Sorry, it just sort of happened."

"No it's fine. I kinda like it."

"Oh, well good." Link's teasing, brovado had melted away. He seemed so much more at ease without the rest of the gang around him.

"Why are you so, different when the others are around?" She asked cautiously.

"How do you mean different?" Link asked, a little taken aback.

"Well, you seem more relaxed when it's just us."

"Hmm," Link considered for a moment

He knew exactly what Maari was talking about. He knew about the mask that he put on in front of the boys. He just assumed they all did the same thing. They had all had their breakdowns in front of the gang. They had all built each other back up again. It wasn't that he was afraid to show his emotions in front of them. That wasn't it at all.

"I guess I've always been the one who has to keep up morale and keep everyone on track. Time is our leader but he looks to me to help strategize and plan our missions. While they're all around I have to keep their faith in me that I can do my job. But I guess, when I'm with you, I don't need to do that so much."

"I'm glad you can relax around me. I kinda feel the same way too. But I'm finding it hard to relax here. Searching the archives with Zelda is hardly my idea of fun, and it's even more difficult knowing that somewhere out there the Yiga are planning something. Kidnapping innocent civilians and doing who knows what."

Link recognised the fire in Maari's eyes. He had worn a similar look when he had set out to hunt down, first Cia, then Ganon. He could tell her mind was set on doing something rash.

"You're not thinking of going looking for them are you?" He asked warily.

"I... I don't know. A big part of me wants to go out and find them and destroy their clan forever. But I know that's irresponsible."

"Not to mention dangerous. So maybe you shouldn't go alone."

"Wait what?" Maari asked, surprised by Link's suggestion. "You want to come with me?"

"Maybe. I think you're right, I think the Yiga need to go, but I can't allow you to risk your life on your own."

"Why?"

"Because something about this feels off to me, and I think you can feel the same thing. There's more to what the Yiga are up to than simply kidnapping people. Surely they wouldn't be doing it if they didn't have a reason."

"My thoughts exactly." Maari confirmed. Then she paused and was silent for a moment.

"What is it?" Link asked, reaching out a hand and gingerly laying it on top of hers.

"My father thinks my mother might be with the Yiga." She said quietly, eyeing his hand.

"You mean they're holding her Prisoner after all?"

"No," she shook her head, wondering weather or not to tell Wars what her father had divulged. "I mean she's with them. Working with them. But I... I just don't know for sure."

At last Link understood. This wasn't just about defeating the Yiga once and for all. It was about finding Maari's mother. His heart reached out to her, but all he could bring himself to do was lean towards her and pull her into a hug. For a moment Maari didn't react, other than freezing up a little. But eventually she relaxed into Link's embrace and wrapped her arms around his middle.

"I'm gonna find a way to help you, I promise," Link uttered close to Maari's ear.

"You don't have to promise me that Link," Maari uttered, her head nestled against his shoulder.

"I'm doing it any way. I'm going to help you." He replied resolutely. Time was going to kill him.

< Part 12 : Part 14 >

[skyward-floored]

Hello, Peggy. I listened to that song I sent you too many times and thought too hard about Downfall IAU Twilight. Have a completely non-canon thing

Aganim stormed into the room where Twilight was ‘studying” under the watchful gaze of Zant with a handful of other eldest children looking to be scouted for Dink’s latest ‘hero program’.

“You!” His brother's handler seethed as he took in the room and found Twilight.

“Yes, Sir?” What had Legend, or those other two kids done? Aganim was a pain at the best of times but most of his incidents with his brother had been things Legend had actually been doing...just luck was on his side and the stupid prick that was his ‘handler’ couldn't prove it.

“Don't you ‘yes, sir’ me as if you didn't already know...”

He hadn't seen his family in days. He'd come home late, left early, all of it in the name of this stupid program he didn't even want to be a part of.

“I'm sorry. I really...” Aganim gave a scream of rage and stormed over to Zant, snatching Zant's fob and triggering the shock to course through him.

“Your family has been a thorn in my side for years.” Twilight was thrown out of his desk with the long shock and lay there panting as Aganim screamed. “So good, so outwardly compliant, but scheming and sneaking around and defying everyone...” Another shock, just a short burst. “And everything.” Another burst, longer and if it wasn't for it locking up every muscle including his lungs, he would have screamed.

“Your brother may have weasled away like the rodent he is, but now all of you scum are on the kill list.”

Zant was screaming about not using the shock again, but Aganim just shoved the man away.

“You, your brother, your mother, all of them...” Aganim triggered another shock, and another punctuating every word with a burst of electricity. “They will all pay and in the meantime, so will you.” And somewhere under this constant barrage of shocks, Twilight blacked out.

It was damp and cold when he awoke. He was on the ground? He was abruptly shot from dizzy incomprehension to full awareness as he felt someone trying to remove his jacket. He snarled, a very wolf-like sound despite his hylian form.

“Ooh, so scary. You think you're one of those super-hero types or something?” A woman’s voice spoke from the reaching hands he'd grabbed to try to defend himself. I thought you were dead when they threw you down here with us...” there was an almost deranged giggle. “I was gonna help you if you were nice, but I don't need you to snarl and snap at me.” A teenager like him sat on the other side of the bars of what seemed to be a cross between a sewer grate and jail bars. It certainly explained the damp, and the smell.

“What's your name, Beasty? What made the supers throw you down to the Twilight Realm with the rest of us?”

“Dusk.” He wasn't sure what made him give his hero name rather than his given name or even his nickname. “Call me Dusk...” He coughed, sat up, found that he still had the cursed shock bracelet on, though his tracker had been smashed.

“I think I prefer Beasty, it's certainly more fitting of the way you snarled and snapped at me...now, can you stand? Or do you want to catch pneumonia down here in the dungeons?” He groaned, but got to his feet. The snarky woman who'd been talking to him was... very short. She came barely up to his hip. He knew his father had been fairly tall but at seventeen and still no where near breaking five and a half feet, it seemed he would be closer in stature to his grandfather than his dad. It was strange to be so much taller.

“Who do I have to thank for the rescue?” His voice still sounded shot.

“Midna Twili, but you can call me Princess, okay, Beasty?”

Ooooh uh oh Twi’s in hot water now, oh boy... Agahnim just losing it and going after him seems about right, the jerk 😤 Thank you for sharing!! :D

[asudai-tls]

[Archive Video] Resumption of Twi■■light Activities Announcement

Video

Nao: Good evening, nice to meet you. I'm Nao, also known as Unknown from Twi■■light. Thank you for listening to our broadcast.

Kei: I’m Kei, also known as Dusk from Twi■■light. Despite it being sudden, I'm glad you’re watching this. 

Seira: I’m Seira, also known as Stella from Twi■■light. It's been a while since I last dived, so to be honest I’m a little nervous… I’m glad you’ll be spending a little time with me. 

Kei: Let’s start by explaining our unit. Then, leader, you first. 

Nao: Hm? Mm. I’m the leader. 

Seira: … That’s all?! There’s definitely something more to say than that.

Nao: Huh? Um. Is there something else?

Siera: There is. What about the kind of unit Twi■■light is? What about us resuming activities? 

Nao: Uhh… Do as you wish. 

Seira: Leader!   

Kei: Well, it seems like our leader is a bit lacking in nutrition. Here, a cereal bar. 

Seira: Haa.. I’ll say a bit then. Twi■■light is a unit formed 9 years ago by Nao and Kei. And I joined the group 7 years ago. After that, we took a break from activities for a while, and now we’re back. 

Kei: Well because the break was so long, I almost feel like a newbie. I want to take this opportunity to show you a new Twi■■light. We’ll see what happens.

Nao: Isn’t everyone so busy that we can’t do much? Even today, Seira’s modeling work was busy again so now we’re streaming late at night. 

Kei: You didn’t have to say that. 

Seira: I’m sorry! I apologized earlier, didn’t I?

Kei: Alright, alright, that’s enough for now. Next, let’s each introduce ourselves. It seems like you’re feeling a little better, so Nao you first. 

Nao: Umm…I guess I'm in charge of composing music within the unit. My instrument is guitar? I can basically play anything. That’s all. 

Kei: Eh… Are you done already…?

Seira: Please introduce yourself in a better way. You’re the cornerstone of Twi■■light’s music. I joined the unit because I was moved by the music you make. Make sure to emphasize that. 

Nao: Ehhh~ Seira, you're giving me such great praise.

Siera: I only acknowledged your musical sense, nothing else.

Kei: Seira really loves the music Nao makes. Now then, my turn. I'm the group’s engineer, in charge of Twi■■light’s mixing. To put it simply,  I adjust the sound recorded by each person to get the best balance. It's my role to turn it into a single cohesive song. Other than that, I also do all the other small miscellaneous things.

Nao:  It must be hard work.

Kei: I just got better at it the more I did it.

Seira: He also does the video editing and he’s a pro at the bass. 

Kei: Haha, I just became able to do that too. 

Seira: It’s scary how easily he does everything while laughing. Lastly, my turn. I write the lyrics for  Twi■■light’s songs. My instrument is the piano. Technically, I'm still no match for Nao, but I hope to catch up quickly. I'm doing it with passion in my own way.

Kei: As Seira said earlier, Twi■■light’s music stems from Nao's delicate worldview. We plan to work hard so that we can convey that world to as many fans as possible.

Nao: Zzzz…zzzz…

Kei: So, it seems like while we were talking enthusiastically, Nao himself has begun to doze off.

Nao: Zzzz… 

Seira: Hello, anyone there?! We were having a serious conversation! 

Kei: ......That’s the kind of unit we are. I think everyone would have understood well enough.

Seira: No, this isn't a good enough explanation. We need to tall about before the hiatus, about our musicality, etc.

Kei: With our leader like this, that's impossible.

Nao: Mm… Goodnight. 

Kei: Hey now, don’t use my shoulder as a pillow. Come on, say your final goodbyes. Try your best to stay awake. 

Nao: Nnn… I’m sleepy…

Kei: We are a unit that has been inactive for a long time. We don't know about the current Astrodive. As a diver, I’m like  dead tree from a bygone era. Even so, I want to light the fire once again.

Nao: Music is an unchanging thing. Forget all your unnecessary worries. For now, I want you to listen to our music. That's all I have to say.

Seira: Finally, a proper statement… I've always wanted to work as Twi■■light again. I'm really happy to be back in action. This is why I have continued to make music, so I can show you how I take on new challenges. I want everyone to follow–

Nao: With that said, see you all later. This was Twi■■light. Goodnight~

Kei: Haha, see you next time. Goodnight. 

Seira: Hey, I was still talking! We went through all the effort to get together, and now this is it...!

Kei: Alright, let’s cut it here.

Seira: Ah see you all! Goodnight! But a little longer, please…!

[gryphonlover]

Unscheduled Brainrot

So I drove to another state to visit my fiancee at their college today, which was super fun and awesome. I got to pick them up from class AND I SAW A DUDE IN A JACKET THAT WAS JUST NICHOLAS CAGE’S FACE. LIKE THE BACK OF THE ENTIRE JACKET WAS JUST HIS FACE. IT WAS ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE. WHEN MY WRIST STARTS FUNCTIONING AGAIN IM GONNA NEED TO DRAW WIND IN IT. DUDE IT WAS JUST INCREDIBLE TO WITNESS

but on the way home I was trapped in the far lane on a huge interstate highway because this asshat pickup truck was intentionally not letting me get around him by either speeding up or slowing down. like he was doin’ it on fucking purpose. and i almost missed my chance to merge onto the highway that leads to MY state. had a bigger pickup truck not ridden that guy’s ass and pushed him faster, i would’ve been pushed onto a different highway going to a secret third state, and a part of this god forsaken country I’ve never been before. but no, the bigger truck came to my rescue so slay to irritating assholes who HAVE to go like 90 miles an hour or they’ll explode, this time it came to my advantage because he stopped the asshole guy from slowing down when i tried to slow to get behind him. i think i should be allowed to eat his tires…

i also didn’t have to go to the ER or urgent care today so MASSIVE fucking slay, because I was hell bent on visiting my fiancee and quite frankly nothin was gonna stop my ass- I had to cancel my plans yesterday because of this weird ass reaction i keep having, but i refused to do so today and thank god it didn’t bite me in the ass because having to cancel this would’ve ruined my whole month more so than this obnoxious reaction has so far (its starting to cause problems again and I’m considering biting my arm off /hj)

i need to get back on top of things for whumptober, but i keep getting ideas for cute little fics of Twi just chilling and having a nice time. and like, that’s great and all, but its WHUMPtober, not “Twilight makes flower crowns for his goats” tober

anyways, I really hope you’re doing alright, take care of yourself and get plenty of water food and rest :) *throws good vibes your way*

and also i hope this shit is coherent 😭

- crazylittlejester

@crazylittlejester

That sounds like an awesome outfit, actually. :0 Maybe not my style, but I would definitely wear that at least once to terrorize my college friends.

Glad you didn't get lost, that could've been bad. :[ I only drove for a road trip twice, and the second time I almost fell asleep at the wheel.

Honestly, you deserve a break. Good for you. Fingers crossed that whatever it is goes away and minds its own business.

Hear me out: Twilight gets a nice vacation while everyone else is whumped in the background. They don't say anything because they don't want to stress him out since he's finally relaxed.

Things have been going okay. I'm starting to feel negative consequences creep up on me again, but I've been getting lots of love and hugs from my roommates. :)

[wayfayrr]

What about reader showing Twilight Twilight (the movies) as a joke because they have the same name and wolves

Sure anon!! I hope you like this This isn't written by a twilight saga fan so I apologise for not liking the movies if that's what you wanted

"You had something you wanted to show me darlin'?"

"Since you first arrived here - Since we first met I've been wanting to show you this, it's a perfect coincidence and I think you'd like it."

Gently shoving Twilight onto the couch before sitting next to him with the remote in hand, gave him plenty of time to think over what I'd just said. He certainly hasn't just short-circuited for that minute.

"It's a movie called Twilight, and it's about werewolves, mostly vampires, but I don't really care about them."

"...What's a werewolf?"

"You don't need to play coy link, I already know that you're Wolfie and that the kids have already explained what a werewolf is."

Leaning onto his shoulder now as it starts almost makes me miss being in Hyrule where we would be like this nearly every night around a campfire. Thankfully being back in the modern world has far more perks than drawbacks, but even then there are small things that I myself and I think the chain as well just miss. Maybe I could suggest a camping trip to them soon. 

It’s a slow-starting film but Twilight seems to be enamoured by it, although part of that might be that this is the first film that I've shown him. It’d be nice if we managed to go through the whole series at once without being interrupted, well and if he wants to of course.  

“...Why is his skin so… so shiny.”

“Because like he said link, he’s got the skin of a killer…”

"But that doesn't make any sense?"

"I know. Not a lot of it does, but the music is great.”

I could feel his wince as soon as I said that. However he’s not leaving me, he’s still here watching it with me. Does that mean he’s enjoying it or is it simply because he wants to spend time with me? Twilight, he can be too nice for his own good sometimes putting himself in harm's way or in this case sitting through a film that he clearly doesn’t like. The movie was over fairly quickly thankfully for Link, as his sigh of relief timed perfectly with the start of the credits.

“How did you find it then Twi?”

“I liked spending the time alone with you.”

“So you would be up for watching all the sequels with me now then?”

His silence was telling enough of his answer, not that I can blame him for it. Twilight is a very divisive film. He looked so excited at the start but it faded during the story. 

“I’m not going to force you. We could watch something else or do something else though? I like spending time alone with you rancher.”

“Actually like I said during it, I love the music and one of the bands in it. I’ve got a record of theirs. If you want we could listen to it and relax with some drinks?”

Even though I knew it somewhat before, Twilight really expresses himself mostly through actions, doesn’t he? It’s got to be a side effect of him becoming a wolf, seeing just how puppy-like he acts most of the time. Wait…

“Is it safe for you to drink alcohol? I mean…”

“I’ve never had any issues so far.”

“As long as you think it’s safe for you. I probably can’t foot a veterinary bill at the moment.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Seems like my plan to watch the trilogy with him is out the window now, but the others are all out for the moment so why shouldn’t I make the most of having him all to myself like this? Drinking and listening to vinyl sounds like a nice evening, and since it's related to the movie I should still be able to talk about it. I’d like an answer for why he’s so pouty.

“The werewolves were offensive though.”

“That’s what bothered you the most?”

“...I just didn’t like them.”