#stop booting me out of things and not saving my progress tumblr >:(

[smilesrobotlover]

Ok fic time! This is a draft and I might change things around (some paragraphs do not vibe with me) but some people wanted to read it so we’ll see what happens!

So warnings in order of the fic: blood, there’s no major character death but it comes reeeeally close so look out for that, accidental self harm, bad times. It’s pretty heavy so keep that in mind

This is written in the perspective of Legend with Warriors and a bit of Sky :) me and @skyward-floored we’re talking about Legend and she was this awesome headcanon that legend faints at the sight of blood, and tbh I haven’t stopped thinking about that convo we had so this fic was greatly inspired by all of it !

Heart of a Bunny

Legend charged at the moblin standing in front of him, stabbing it straight to the chest. He, Warriors, and Sky were investigating a kidnapping of someone’s dog, who was taken by monsters. When they followed the trail to rescue the dog, they were ambushed by moblins, and they were strong. Strengthened by hatred, malice, and black blooded nonsense. Though it was hard, they needed to eradicate the monsters, and fast. The group of moblins were brutal, and they could turn to attacking towns if they weren’t all dead (and obviously they needed to save the dog). Legend looked over to his friends, and while they fought with the strength of a thousand men, Legend knew that they were just as tired as he was. Warriors’s swings were getting sluggish and more slow and Sky was panting something awful. But they seemed to be holding out on their own well enough, so Legend focused on himself.

Black blood was everywhere, on his clothes, on his face, in his hair, the smell filling his nostrils, but he ignored it and pushed forward. In situations like this, he can’t care. He doesn’t have time. He lobbed off a moblin’s head when he heard a yell come from Warriors. He turned and gasped at what Warriors was yelling at. Two moblins were holding Sky down, one had a knife pressed to his throat.

“No! Let him go!” Legend yelled and ran forward, but Warriors stopped him.

“Don’t come any closer!” The moblin yelled back, pressing the knife harder against Sky, who let out a pained cry. Legend glared ahead, his heart pounding against his chest. These moblins were ruthless, he didn’t know what to do to get Sky out of that situation without him getting hurt.

“Let him go,” Warriors said before Legend could think of anything, putting his sword away.

“I said don’t come any closer!” The moblin screamed.

Warriors stopped moving and so did Legend. What could they do? He felt completely helpless. He was unable to fight Sky out of this, unable to talk Sky out of it, and Warriors was trying to help him, but any time he moved the moblins would freak out. They were too afraid to die, and that made them unpredictable.

“Please, let him go, we’ll do whatever you say,” Warriors lifted his hands to show that he was no threat, but he must’ve done it too quickly, and the moblins reacted.

Time seemed to slow down as the knife cut across Sky’s neck, blood immediately spilling out. Legend screamed out and Warriors was on the moblins in seconds, cutting them down. Legend ran to Sky who fell to the ground, grabbing his neck and sputtering as his blood poured out all over the ground. Legend tried to put pressure on his bleeding neck, but he didn’t know if he was choking Sky or if he was helping the bleeding. He needs a fairy or a potion, was the first thought he had, and with one hand, he grabbed his pack and started rummaging through it, desperate to find a red potion or a fairy or something. He dug through it frantically, his eyes growing blurry with tears, his throat dry from breathing so hard. But he felt nothing but empty bottles. He looked to Warriors in desperation.

“I don’t have a fairy!” He yelled, his voice cracking. Warriors turned to him and the situation dawned on him with Sky bleeding out. His face went from angry and determined to complete blankness as he killed the last moblin and dug through his own pack. He knelt at Sky’s side and silently searched, and searched, and searched.

Legend’s hand remained at Sky’s neck, trying so desperately to hold back the tears that threatened to pour out of his eyes. Warriors looked up from his pack, his expression more blank than ever, and Legend’s heart sank. They always have fairies on them, they always have red potions, how could they not have one when they needed one so desperately.

Sky made a gurgling noise and the two looked at him. It was almost silent as Sky bled out, Legend desperately trying to stop the bleeding. But Sky’s face paled, and he stopped breathing, his hands falling from his neck. Legend’s heart dropped to his stomach, and he got closer to his face, there was no air coming from his mouth, and he felt no pulse. No… no no please Hylia no…

“He-he’s—” Legend started, but was interrupted by a light. A fairy popped up out of nowhere and spun around Sky, followed by a gasp. Sky started coughing and sputtering, and Warriors immediately helped him up, making sure he was alright. Sky rubbed his bloody neck and took in a deep breath. There was no evidence of a slit throat save for the blood everywhere. He was alive.

A fairy… Sky had a fairy, and it saved his life. Legend felt dizzy from the relief and rested a hand on Sky’s shirt.

“I’m ok…” Sky gasped, “I’m ok… I’m ok…”

Warriors silently rubbed his back, a relieved smile on his previous blank expression. Legend rubbed his arm and tried to manage a smile, but he couldn’t. His heart was pounding, he felt heavy, and the memory of Sky bleeding out, them helpless to save him, kept flashing in his mind.

Bleeding out…

Legend glanced at the hand that was rubbing Sky’s arm, and noticed the blood he was smearing. He frowned and looked at his other hand that was clenched on his knees. That was covered in blood too, spreading it all over his bare legs.

Suddenly it hit him. The metallic smell of blood, Sky’s blood, filled his nostrils. The black blood all over his clothes, mixed in with the red blood from Sky. his pack was covered in it, his clothes, goddesses, it was everywhere. It was all over Sky, it was getting on Warriors…

Legend suddenly felt incredibly nauseous and dizzy. He pulled away from Sky and shut his eyes tight. Not now… not now in front of them, not now.

“Legend are you alright?” Warriors asked, his arms still around Sky.

He didn’t say anything. The blood was all over him and he needed it off. His hands started shaking as he stared at Sky’s blood. It was always someone else’s blood.

“Legend I’m ok,” Sky said softly, his voice sounding hoarse and shaky, but Legend barely heard him.

An unpleasant memory flooded his mind. His hands covered in someone else’s blood, the dying breaths of someone he loved, the disgusting smell, the stickiness on his fingers, his uncle’s dying words.

Legend let out a whimper and shot right up, trying to walk away despite his shaking legs.

“I’m gonna be right back,” he whispered, only for his vision to get covered in black spots, and he felt himself falling, miles and miles until he hit the ground.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The water was cold against Legend’s hands as he scrubbed them with a rag, making sure every bit of it was clean. He took time scraping under his fingernails, scrubbing between his fingers, clearing out his cuticles, and rubbing his hands against the rag.

Around him was his scattered belongings. The things in his pack were thrown carelessly out, washed clean, his empty pack laid by his belt, also washed clean, his clothes were sopping wet, but at least they were clean. Now Legend just needed to be clean.

He scrubbed some more, staring at his hands after a moment, then going back to scrubbing. He couldn’t see anymore blood, but he still felt it. The memory of them covered in blood, the stickiness, the smell, it hasn’t gone away. So he kept scrubbing, and scrubbing, and scrubbing.

His hands hurt from the coarse rag, but it needed to be there to get the blood off. It had to. Until Legend noticed how dirty the rag was, and he noticed a hint of red in the fabric. He threw the rag at the forest and went back to scrubbing his hands without it. He now needed the rag’s filth off.

He pulled them out of the water and noticed his knuckles were spotty with blood. He was causing his hands to bleed, but he put them back in the water and went back to scrubbing. And scrubbing, and scrubbing, and scrubbing.

He pulled his hands out again and they were still bleeding. He put them back in the water and scrubbed some more. He pulled them back out and they continued to bleed. He put them back, a sob escaping him. He knew he was being ridiculous. He would stop bleeding if he stopped scrubbing, but it needed to be gone, he needed it to be gone.

He went back to scraping under his fingernails, letting out a hiss of pain when he cut too deep, causing under his fingernail to bleed.

More blood.

He didn’t notice the tears falling down his face as he went back to scrubbing. It had to be gone, it had to be gone.

“Legend.”

The veteran flinched and whipped his head to where the voice was. Warriors was standing there, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes had a hint of worry. Legend sucked in a shaky breath and rubbed his eyes with his shoulder.

“What do you want?” He asked in a low, shaky voice.

“You’ve been out here for a while, are you ok?”

“Yes. I’m fine. Now leave me alone,” he said, ignoring how cruel he’s being. He stared hard at his hands in the water, hoping that Warriors would leave, but he wouldn’t. He felt his gaze like the sun in the desert, and the pressure was starting to annoy him. He glanced at him, and Warriors hadn’t moved.

“What?”

“Look, we almost lost Sky. I can’t imagine that you’re feeling ‘fine’.”

Legend glared at him. He knew that he didn’t look fine. His hands were bleeding, his stuff was scattered all over the place, hot tears were streaming down his face, but he looked away and ignored him. It was humiliating enough for them to see him pass out over blood, they didn’t need to see him having a breakdown.

He heard footsteps come closer and he spun around and backed away.

“I’m fine captain! Leave me alone!”

“You’re not fine!”

“Yes I am!”

“Why won’t you just accept my help?”

“BECAUSE I’M FINE!” Legend screamed, he stood up and marched over to his stuff. He shivered harshly as a breeze blew by and Legend realized that he was freezing, with his hands numb from pain and from the cold water. He needed to warm them up, but they were still bleeding, he couldn’t put them anywhere without spreading more of the blood…

“Legend, it’s ok–”

“Where is Sky?” He cut him off, hoping to change the subject off of him. After all Sky was the one who almost died, he should be the one coddled, not Legend.

Warriors sucked in a frustrated breath. “He’s back at camp, the others found us, he’s fine. And so is the dog.”

Legend would’ve let out a laugh if he didn’t feel so awful. He felt a gentle hand rest on his shoulder and he flinched away.

“Legend please, let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“You’re bleeding and you’re cold.”

Legend ignored him again and walked closer to his stuff, pretending to be doing something.

“Legend, what’s wrong?”

The veteran started shaking again, the tears were completely uncontrollable, his breathing was fast, and he gripped his arms so tight, it might’ve drawn blood. Just what he needed, he thought bitterly

“Hey,” Warriors tried again, “You’re hurting yourself buddy… come on, let me help you.”

“No,” Legend whispered. “No, I don’t want you to see me like this…”

His voice didn’t have snark hidden within it this time, and there was silence except for Legend’s heavy breathing.

“Why do you not want me to see you like this?”

“Because!” His voice started to raise again, the moment of vulnerability gone. He turned and faced Warriors, “Look at me! I’m a mess! I’m the worst hero to ever live!”

“No you’re no–”

“YES I AM! Don’t lie to me to make me feel better because I am! I can’t handle anything! If something goes wrong I completely LOSE IT! I HATE MYSELF FOR IT!” He was screaming now, his hands gripping his hair. “I can’t handle anything difficult! I pass out at the sight of blood, what kind of a hero passes out because of blood? I just– I’m terrible! I’m terrible at protecting people and I’m not strong and I—” His breath hitched and he looked at Warriors who was sitting there, staring at him. His face was expressionless, and rage started to build up within Legend. “You don’t realize how good you have it captain,” he spat, venom dripping in every word.

Warriors eyebrows raised at that. “How do I have it good?”

“Nothing bothers you! Nothing ever bothers you! When Sky was dying, I was a mess! But you, you were collected! You were calm! You don’t let things like that bother you! And I wish I was like you for that! I wish I didn’t care like you!”

Grief suddenly gripped at his heart. He wished he didn’t care. He wished he didn’t care so damn much. He’s lost so many people in his life, he’s experienced so many hard things and it never made him stronger. It never made him tough, it was a flaw within him that he let so many things get to him but he just can’t help it. He let out a sob, vulnerability washing over him. He was wishing so desperately that he could hear his uncle’s voice again, wishing that he could hear Marin sing again, wishing that he didn’t feel this pain, wishing that Warriors wasn’t here to see how truly pathetic he is. He fell to the ground sobbing, wishing so desperately that he’d stop but he couldn’t. His hands were clenched against his chest, his heart in pain, his head pounding, his hands rubbed raw, tears pouring out of his eyes. He felt like he was falling to pieces.

“I wish I was like you,” he repeated, voice trembling.

He hiccuped and opened his eyes, surprised when Warriors silently sat in front of him. He slowly reached for Legend’s hands, and when Legend didn’t fight back, he observed them. Then without saying anything, he grabbed a bandage and started wrapping them up, slowly and gently. Legend’s crying slowed down as he watched Warriors. His face was almost expressionless, but a hint of pain laid within it as he tended to Legend’s self-inflicted injuries. He wrapped up his knuckles and quickly moved onto his bleeding finger, and though he hated being taken care of, Legend didn’t have the strength to stop him. He moved onto his bleeding arms and started to wrap those up as well.

“It’s funny,” he muttered, breaking the silence, “how you wish to be like me… When I wish to be like you.”

Legend’s breathing slowed and he stared back confused.

“I wish I cared like you Legend. I’ve seen so much death, so many friends die in front of me, and when we bury them… they deserve tears to be shed for them… but I can’t muster up anything. I feel like I fail them for that.”

Legend continued to stare at him, he’s never seen Warriors like this, so serious and open. The captain finished wrapping up one arm and went to the other one.

“I don’t feel anything when death is about to claim people I care about. It’s happened so much, and I wish that I didn’t feel so damn empty when it happens.”

His voice was soft, filled with regret and sorrow, and when he finished Legend’s other arm, he looked directly into his bloodshot eyes, a stern look on his face. Legend looked down where his hands laid, bandaged and held in Warrior’s hands. His breathing started to slow down as he contemplated Warrior’s words.

“Never stop feeling Legend, never stop crying for others. For people like me can’t do it ourselves.”

Legend looked up at Warriors, this time a pained look on the captain’s face. Warriors always annoyed him, he was so perfect all the time, so aloof, so bossy. He had everything Legend wanted… but he realizes now how much he had that Warrior’s didn’t have. He never realized that Warriors felt this way, and suddenly clarity entered within him. Remembering Warriors’s blank stare as Sky bled out in front of them, a somber but stone face as Twilight was slowly dying from the shadow’s curse, an empty look when he takes care of someone’s wounds. It was all because he’s been so hardened from the death he’s seen, to the point where he can’t bring himself to feel anymore when he should. That never happened to Legend. It’s only made him more emotional and soft.

“All bark and no bite?” Twilight’s words echoed in his mind, when he was turned into his stupid bunny form. It was humiliating, but it was a true reflection of his heart. He always saw it as his major flaw, and no matter how hard he tried, he always had the heart of a bunny. But now…

Legend pursed his lips and slowly rested his head against Warrior’s chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, and he felt Warriors wrap his arms around him. They sat there for a long time, Warriors holding Legend as he cried into his scarf. It felt nice… freely crying in front of someone. Because for the first time, he felt no shame in doing it.

[7rashstar]

this ended up being way longer than expected so i’m putting it under the cut ~

i miss getting tumblr anons/interacting w ppl on this site more. my old blog had almost 2k followers n i got them allllll the time. i had had that blog since 2015 tho and only stopped using it once i made this one, (after being off the net for. a long while) this is the only social media site i wanna use. i mostly just post and ghost though, barely scrolling the dash. i miss being more interactive with mutuals

i partially abandoned that blog because i felt like there were too many eyes on me 😵‍💫 the other part was bc i was really deep in addiction, and on top of all that i had some major creepy anonymous stalkers

i’ve been thinking abt making more diary oriented posts lately bc the weathers been whack n i’m not rly going on walks bc of that, i’ve also been pretty much a full time hermit since new years. i could prolly count on both (if not one) hand how many times i’ve seen my friends. i think this has been a good thing for me though,,,been having a personal renascence the past couple months. drawing every day, playing guitar and making mewsic etc etc

also thinking abt utilizing side blogs again. maybe make one for my drawings. i drew a couple pages of a comic i wanna work on more. mostly oc art and some photo collages.

i also wanna start posting my music. soundcloud or youtube or both. maybe make some vlogs too? part of the reason why i haven’t is because nothing feels finished, but i’ve realized i used to use my old soundcloud to track my progress creating on ableton when i first got it and had no idea how to use the program. coming to terms with nothing needing to be perfect, bc it’ll never get to that ‘perfectly finished’ point. it’s earnest and from my heart as it is. i do think i should start saving up for a new laptop though, mine is pretty old and laggy. i might jus try ripping everything to an external hard drive to clear up space n see if that helps…but a fresh start would also be nice. (plus i haven’t updated my mac since mojave because it would break ableton lol)

i finallllllly saved up and bought a new phone tho. it’s the same one i have right now but it’s from ebay certified refurbished so i feel pretty good abt it. hopefully it’ll come tomorroww, this one is starting to rly shit out on me. my alarms didn’t even go off this morning 😭 ended up being late to work

i miss going to shows a lot and hanging out w ppl. i think i’m finally starting to come back out of my shell, even jus a little bit.

might boot up my pc tonight and upload some stuff (but not holding myself to that lol) i found all of the old SD cards and some flash drives from my youth and some of the pictures are absolute gems

anywayyy long asf post lol but yea!! i hope everyone is doing ok

much loveeee <33

[sister-dear]

Sentence Structure and Flow

Someone on discord asked me about how I structure sentences and how I learned to write. I’m going to do my best to answer! Hopefully it’s useful. It got long, so I made it a Tumblr post.

On learning to write:

Sky_squido, the author of “What Hyrule Hadn’t Seen” made this presentation and there were several points in it that I found incredibly helpful.

The two main ideas that I found most beneficial:

It’s about the ~vibes. Every story or scene has some kind of overall theme or emotion. Once you’re far enough into your story to have found what that is, edit your word choice to match. If a word technically works but doesn’t fit the mood, replace it with something else. The actual definition of a word is sometimes less important than the emotion that word conveys.

Verbs are incredibly important. If you’re having trouble with your sentence structure - if your story seems boring or like the prose drags - look at your verbs. I tend to use “is” as a verb far too often (or “was” for those of you who write past tense), so a lot of my editing comes down to reworking some sentences to make the stronger, more interesting words be the action words. So instead of “Legend was walking,” the sentence would be “Legend walked.” Or, even better, “Legend strolled/stalked/slouched along.” We’ve gone from a passive sentence to something that tells us, in engaging fashion, not just what Legend’s doing but how he’s doing it and maybe even a little about how he’s feeling.

Filter Words

Another post I found incredibly helpful: examples of how to cut out ‘filter words.’ It’s great for adding urgency, establishing tone, and introducing strong descriptions into your writing. Basically, this is how to put ‘show, don’t tell,’ into practice at a sentence-structure level. I use this approach a lot when it comes to conveying character emotion.

A couple other points

Variation is your friend.

Repeating things draws attention.

Description slows things down.

1. Variation is your friend.

For most writing, it’s a good idea to vary your sentence structure and length. Dialogue with no tags is rapid. Same with short sentences. Short and choppy reads disjointed and fast. This also applies to paragraph lengths! Longer sentences and paragraphs read slower, and in turn cause your reader to linger; sometimes maybe even linger too much. A combination keeps things interesting.

Too many long sections in a row - be they sentences or paragraphs - causes reader fatigue. Don’t be afraid to break those up. Let your readers take a breather.

If all your sentences start the same way, rework some of them. Lead with the action in one sentence and the subject in the next.

Starting a new paragraph gets a reader’s attention. You can use this for punch.

You should have one topic, or one person speaking, per paragraph.

Important things go at the start of the paragraph. Readers won’t tend to remember as much stuff from the middle or ends. Speed readers might not read those sections at all. The above note about one topic per paragraph? This is why.

2. Repeating things draws attention.

This applies to everything from individual words to overall themes to something like a series of sentences all with the same structure. It can work for you or against you.

A lot of my editing winds up being me reworking sentences to avoid using the same word too closely in succession. I’m not talking basic words here, like ‘he’ and ‘said.’ Those are non-words. If you have enough strong words around them, they disappear. They’re fine. But to use a snippet from a current work in progress:

...(Legend) bares his teeth, river water dripping off his hair and sticking his tunic to his legs. He braces his legs, wet muck squelching over the sides of his boots.

I wound up changing to “sticking his tunic to his thighs” to avoid the repeated word “legs.” I didn’t want to draw attention to his legs themselves, but the state of them. “He braces his feet,” would also work, or I could just cut the sentence down. “He braces,” does the trick just as well, and might be what I go with for the final draft. If the sentence makes sense without the word, then you can let the unneeded word go and your writing will often be stronger for it.

This can be much harder to do with nouns than verbs. Sometimes you just need to call a sword a sword. That’s usually where I start to alternate between a small group of words. “Sword,” “blade,” and “weapon” can all be alternated between to try to avoid using the same word too close together. You might also be able to get around using the problem word at all, as in the example above.

Another note on non-words. Names and pronouns qualify! You can use them over and over again and readers won’t notice. In fact, trying not to use these words can actually draw more attention than just using them!

For example, referring to Hyrule as “the Traveler.” Is it relevant, in the context of what I am writing, that Hyrule travels a lot? Or am I just trying to avoid using his name too much? If the answer is the latter, either don’t bother or change your sentence structure to remove the name entirely. If you have a solid action word, the name will disappear in favor of the action.

Using ‘Traveler’ in this context draws attention away from whatever Hyrule’s doing to what he is. That may not be the best thing to draw attention to. If what you are writing is a story about Hyrule finally getting a safe place of his own to call a home, you could use it for contrast. In which case, save it. Use it once, so it has impact. But if I'm writing about Hyrule teasing Legend, referring to him in that way can disrupt the flow of the story. It draws attention away from Hyrule's personality and his interaction with Legend to his background.

The point is to do it deliberately! It’s okay to use names and pronouns a lot. ‘Traveller’ is a title. Titles stand out.

3. Description slows things down.

Anywhere you want to linger or draw attention is where your descriptions should be going.

The middle of a fast paced action scene where your character is concentrating on the fight might not be the best spot to go into deep detail about the surroundings or what the enemy looks like. Convey those details in bursts that are worked into the action: “Time nearly rolls his ankle on the rocky ground.” Be very sparing. What makes an action scene interesting is how the character feels about what’s happening. You only need enough information on what the surroundings look like for a reader to follow along, and you can probably do most of that setup in a brief paragraph before the actual action starts.

On the other hand, if your character takes a shocking injury in said fight and you really want to dwell on that moment? Or if they’ve got a really cool, flashy move that they unleash in one single exciting burst of fighting prowess? That’s the spot to let your inner poet shine. Slow those spots down and let the reader really enjoy what you’re doing by using your detailed descriptions there.

This applies to all action, not just fighting. Walking through a busy marketplace? Action. A conversation? Can be approached as action. The best spots to use lots of description will be the spots you want to linger on: the first glimpse of a long-lost friend through the crowd, that last hug as they say goodbye.

Description slows things down. Use it accordingly.

Most everything else I can think of is less to do with flow and structure and more to do with other aspects of writing, so I'll stop here.

[09kags]

Happy Haikyuu Day! 

Sorry for the bad quality first off T^T I keep having to resize these so that they’re smaller for Tumblr and it ruins the quality. But more importantly, happy Haikyuu day! (at least it is Japan already!) This edit embodies some of my favorite moments within the series and below, I’ve written some of the thoughts that went into this piece/my feelings on these moments! Manga spoilers ahead (I'm pretty sure I’ve kept them to a minimum but just to be sure, please proceed with caution!), and I hope you enjoy this edit! (Overlays: accio-glow, aulia-chan on dA; PSDs: hurtears, hallyumi, yangyanggg on dA) 1. “Today might finally be the day we get the chance to let our talents bloom… it could be tomorrow. Or maybe next year. Or maybe it’ll finally come when we’re 30. I’m not sure if physique has anything to do with it but I do know for sure that if you don’t believe that day will come, it never will.” This quote is a testament to Oikawa’s growth and is a symbolic representation of Oikawa freeing himself from the shackles of “geniuses” and “prodigies.” So what if your opponent is a genius? So what if they possess more innate talent? As his mentor and inspiration Jose Blanco states, “Are you saying you know what the limits of your abilities are already? Even though you aren’t yet finished growing physically or mentally? Even though you haven’t mastered all the skills you can master? If you’re going to complain that someone with more talent than you will always be better than you… no matter how hard you work, how many tricks you learn and how many great teammates you have… do that only after you’ve given everything the very best effort you have.” There will always be someone better in the world. But to claim that you cannot hope to compare to the likes of them is to resign yourself to a predetermined defeat as well as dismiss both your own efforts and theirs.    There’s no guarantee when your efforts will pay off. As Oikawa declares, it may be today, tomorrow, or even when we’re 30.  But if you don’t believe in yourself first, if you don’t believe that you will bloom in your own time, “that day will never come.”  The flower in the background is the iris. It is known to represent trust, faith, and hope amongst many other ideals. I chose this particular flower because of the manga cap used in this panel. I cannot emphasize how much I love the bond between Oikawa and Iwaizumi, especially this particular moment when Oikawa points at Iwaizumi with such authority and determination as if saying, “This ball, this moment, is meant for you.” Not to mention the pairing with the iconic “Talent is something you make bloom, instinct is something you hone” quote. An absolutely masterful sequence of scenes that always gets my blood rushing. 

2. “Don’t look down! Volleyball is a sport where you’re always looking up!” This moment gives me chills every time. It’s something so fundamental and simple and yet, when Ukai yells this,  it instills that feeling of “You can do it.” It makes my heart flutter and I feel so excited because it’s such a beautiful way of saying “Don’t give up, it’s not over yet.” And even if the ball has dropped for the last time or you have lost this match, there’s always tomorrow. There’s always the next match where you’ll have to look up. This quote gives me the same feeling as when Takeda-sensei says, “For the rest of your lives, you can do anything you set your mind to!” You only truly lose when you stop trying or you give up.  3. “It hurts. I’m tired. This is painful. I don’t want this to ever end.” / “The ball hasn’t dropped yet!” Whenever Haikyuu characters say “Just one more!” or “The ball hasn’t dropped yet!”, the tension and desperation is almost palpable. It’s so incredibly moving to see them strive to save that ball just one more time, to focus purely on what is in front of them. Even if they don’t all pursue volleyball as a professional career, the passion they all have for the sport is real. That sort of passion is beautiful to watch and admire, and I wish I could have that kind of passion for something in my life.  4. “The underhand only uses two hands. The overhand uses 10 fingers. That’s all the more to support your spikers with, which is what it means to be a setter.” / “To cut through the wall that looms before your spikers, that is the purpose of a setter.”  This particular panel depicts the two ideologies of Atsumu and Kageyama respectively, two of my favorite setters and characters in general. Atsumu “may be pretty cocky at times, and overwhelm his teammates with his thirst for victory, but he treats his spikers with more sincerity and selflessness than anyone else.” He may be overbearing and an asshole at times, but his love for the sport and the art of being a setter is second to none. On the other hand, there’s Kageyama who’s so damn cool with his one-liners. Kageyama’s passion and drive to win may blind him to his surroundings and teammates but he truly believes that the setter is the one who clears the path for their spikers. When their spikers feel cornered and the walls are closing in, it is the setter who “cuts through the wall that looms” ahead. The old Kageyama who was a prisoner to speed is no longer, and his growth as a player brings me to tears every time.  5. “Someone once asked me, ‘Do you ever feel bitter over the fact that you’re not a regular on the team, and amongst your juniors there’s a genius to boot?’ I never understood the exact definition of what it was to be a genius to begin with, but upon hearing the question, I understood the general gist of what they were getting at.  Every so often there will be someone who thinks that ‘people like Atsumu’ were ‘good’ from the get-go. But the thing is, if I practiced something from 1-10 every day, then people like Atsumu would have done it from 1-20. Or, they would have done the same 10 but in a more efficient or concentrated manner. They might also ask ‘Instead of doing it 1-10, how about I tried it from A-Z, what would happen then? Now doesn’t that sound interesting?’  They’re the kind of people who think about stuff like that. Even if they fail, even if they are hated and get ostracised by others, no matter whether they’re right or they’re wrong, even if they subvert something the rest of us hold in high regard, they’re the kind of people who can’t sit still without giving it a go. Even if they start coughing up blood from their lungs, they’re the kind of people who want to keep on running, no matter what.  There’s going to be a lot of people in this world who make you go ‘Wow, I’ll never be able to defeat them,’ and it’s only natural that you think they’re amazing people. I think that to be able to keep charging ahead is a talent in and of itself. You can call people like them whatever you like, the term ‘genius’ isn’t exactly an insult. That said, to think they were ‘good from the get go’ is to condemn yourself to a predetermined defeat without even playing a match against them, and I also think it’s very rude.”  This quote, hands down, is one of my favorite quotes of all time. It is not genius or natural talent that makes individuals truly great, but it is grit. Without a doubt, people are not born equal. There will always be someone with more innate talent or latent capabilities. We all begin at different starting lines. But those who truly stand out are those who go the extra mile, like those dubbed to be the Monster Generation (Kageyama, Atsumu, Hinata, Bokuto, Ushijima, Oikawa, etc.). To others they may seem like natural prodigies but behind their flawless technique and precise ball control lies countless hours of training. They trained harder than anyone else, sacrificed in order to hone their abilities, and ran farther than the rest of the pack. They’re the type to fixate on what lies before them without much regard to anything else.They eat, sleep, breathe, and live volleyball with every waking second. They’re always trying new things (Atsumu pulling off the freak duo quick in the middle of the Inarizaki match) and continually looking for ways to improve (“But the thing is, if I practiced something from 1-10 every day, then people like Atsumu would have done it from 1-20. Or, they would have done the same 10 but in a more efficient or concentrated manner. They might also ask ‘Instead of doing it 1-10, how about I tried it from A-Z, what would happen then? Now doesn’t that sound interesting?’ They’re the kind of people who think about stuff like that”; Kageyama keeping a volleyball journal). It is not what they were born with that makes them great; it is their overwhelming desire to win.  6. “‘Yesterday’ has already disappeared behind us. Many, many yesterdays have become a part of our muscles. What shall we do, today?” This quote, chills. There’s no point ruminating about the past or what has already passed; you can’t change it. (In retrospect, I wish I included another quote from Inarizaki in this panel: “One time is enough. We rise to the challenges of today.”) You learn from the mistakes of yesterday and use them as stepping stones for tomorrow. I wish I could eloquently phrase how much I love this quote or my interpretation of it but alas, my writing is fancy Garbage.  7. “But if… just if… that moment comes for you, that will be the moment you really get hooked on volleyball.” If you didn’t get chills when Tsukishima blocks Ushijima, I have no words for you. Tsukishima-it’s-just-a-club Kei, Tsukishima-I’m-the-normal-guy Kei — Tsukishima Kei, who always underestimates his own capabilities and relies on what he can see in front of him, blocking the Ushijima Wakatoshi, one of the top three high school aces nationally. The character development from someone who did the bare minimum (as noted by other players/coaches at one of the training camps) to someone who finally had their moment to get hooked on volleyball is one of my favorite progressions of all time. Seeing him fall in love with volleyball gradually and then all at once is truly heartwarming and beautiful to witness.  8. “No matter what other people may say, we are the protagonists of the world.” This quote is incredibly empowering to me. Even if your days consist of mundane activities, you are the protagonist of your own story every day. You may not be the main character in a shounen manga or an adolescent seeking to usurp the government in a dystopian novel, but this is your story. No one can tell it like you do and no one can replicate your story. It is yours and yours only.  And that concludes my Haikyuu word vomit! I really do wish I could have properly conveyed my pure adoration and love for this series better. I truly do love Haikyuu so very, very much. It will always have a special place in my heart and I will never forget the memories and lessons it has taught me! Thank you, Furudate-sensei, for such a beautiful story. And thank you Haikyuu, for everything. For all the losses and victories we shared. For all the smiles and laughter, and for all the tears we shed. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. 

[galadhir]

In which Poe continues to visit Hux, who is in jail, and fails to appreciate the important progress he is making at finding a place to fit in.

Chapter 2 below the cut if you want to read it here. I would link the previous episode, but tumblr is currently not letting me into my tags, so if you want to start at part 1, you'll have to do it at Ao3

~*~*~*~

Next month, when Poe was ushered into the plexiglass room there was a palpable difference in both Hux and his guards. This time, Hux looked healthy, rested. He’d done something to his hair and it flopped engagingly over his forehead as he smiled at Poe as if they were old friends.

Poe would have taken this for good news if he hadn’t remembered that this was how Hux looked at the end, when he was under suspicion for treason, and being ground under the boot-heels of two superior officers at once.

He placed the allowed gifts on the table—cigarras and chocolate—and caught the contemptuous sniff of the guard behind Hux. Both guards seemed oddly relaxed, in comparison to last visit, as though they had forgotten their prisoner had the highest kill-count of any war criminal in history.

“You’re looking better,” Poe observed, all the surplus anxiety on his own part, because a Hux who seemed innocent, his lips pink and his eyes clear and eager to please, was a Hux he trusted even less than normal.

Hux smiled and leaned forward confidingly. “These things take time,” he said, low voiced and a little smug. “The climb from victim to bitch is a useful step.”

This time Poe did rear back, scraping his chair across the floor and feeling the guards’ gazes snap to him like an automated targeting system. He... there had been jokes. Of course there had. There were always prison jokes—dropping soap in the showers, that sort of thing. And Hux was young and slender and pretty. And the galaxy hated him enough to wish for terrible things. But to know? To just come out and say it? Was there something he could do to stop it? A rescue he could make?

“Oh, tell me you’re not shocked!” Hux laughed, and there was nothing in his face or voice that indicated distress.

He’s always been in prison, Poe thought, with a well of horror opening in his chest so far down it reached the underdwellers who lived in Coruscant’s core. He has a different idea of normal from yours.

Which didn’t honestly make it better. “Can I… can I do anything to help you?” he asked. Like reform the entire prison system? Scrap it maybe. Poe didn’t have the power for that. But he thought he would try, if not for this prisoner then for others.

The saccharine smile did not reach the hard calculation in Hux’s eyes, blue as the flame of a laser cutter. “I don’t like to ask, but perhaps your com? So I could call you, in an emergency?”

Poe didn’t see how the wafer of metal and crystals could be used to do harm. He pushed it into the cigarra packet between the cardboard and the silver paper, where he had sometimes hidden messages in his days undercover with the smugglers.

A sliver of genuine vulnerability was visible for a moment amongst Hux’s creepy charm as he tucked the gifts into his shirt. “Thank you. You don’t have to come, you know, if it distresses you. I don’t blame you for a failure that was outside your control. And you saved my life too. We’re even, in that regard.”

Poe had figured he was visiting because he was a good guy, because—having rescued Hux from his broken huddle in the wreck of the Finalizer—he had a responsibility. But the prospect of being dismissed as unnecessary, of being let off, made him realize that he was here because he wanted to be. He wouldn’t have felt hurt at being dismissed, otherwise. “No, it’s not that. I want to help you. You need a—”

“A protector?” Hux’s sneer was bitter as three day caf. “Oh, but I’m on my second already. The first,” he shrugged one shoulder, dismissively, “was… unsatisfactory. Remarkably short lived.”

The double meaning hit Poe in two separate waves. He began to understand what Finn had meant. “What happened?”

“He tripped,” Hux said, with a resurgence of his puppyish innocence. “On the second floor landing. Just where the guard-rail was weak. It was a terrible accident.” A smile. “Fortunately, he was a killer of children, whose faction was ruled merely by fear. Rather a happy day for many people, when his brains splashed the wall.”

“Um,” Poe said, and again found himself scrambling to leave before his hour was up. He couldn’t understand why he wanted to keep coming back. What was he hoping for here? “Why are you telling me these things? Aren’t you afraid that--”

“What are they going to do to me?” Hux laughed again. “Add another life sentence? I am as free here as I have ever been, Poe. And there is still so much to do.”

[fireberryarts]

So because of my current... set up I couldn’t try the clean-line animation that I wanted, but I tried to fix up issues where I could. See below under the cut for a more detailed explanation of this process (which also serves as a record for my own future reference so it isn’t really complaining. It is, but it isn’t really. Kind of).

I’ve never actually tried animating lighting and shading like this. I think it came out better than I thought it would.

Originally it was a 32-frame animation, but I fixed the pacing and it became a 49-frame animation. 

Here is the first as a comparison 

Considering.... below... I am very happy with how it came out. 

Now I die in peace xD

Also the compression for Tumblr is terrible. Here is a larger version (remove brackets and spaces bc Tumblr don’t like outgoing links apparently);

https [://] 1drv[.]ms/u/s!AiJ2rEKcRHVihDJxgCnxVeVD4S7G?e=T1o6yC

I hope you guys like it and I sincerely thank you for all the lovely comments on my work. Thank you! You guys are great!

Okay so a little bit of an annoyed rant but;

The laptop I am using has issues. I have BSoD often which really slows down progress, even if I DO save often. I also don’t trust it with my data. This problem came about during uni so I bought a new laptop - a gaming laptop so it could handle the things I want - but I ended up with a dodgy one. It got to the point where I’d struggle bringing up the task manager and it’d take up to an hour to boot up. I stopped shutting it down entirely. 

Couldn’t do anything because I was living in halls and I NEEDED a laptop for work. I couldn’t just send it off to be fixed. We (me and my brother) tried everything to diagnose the problem. It turned out to be a hardware issue. 

After uni I sent it back to be fixed, and they swapped out the hard drive and the wifi card and gave it back. It declined again proving the issue isn’t the hard drive. It was most likely the motherboard. I sent it off again, and they just formatted it and sent it back. Ofc I was upset over that so I sent it off again and explained in detail why it’s not a hard drive issue, not a virus, please check the motherboard.

They formatted and sent it back.

This was over the course of months. In the end I asked for a refund. 

With the refund I bought parts for a PC to build. Have almost everything except a mouse, keyboard and my own monitor (I salvaged one). I can’t use the PC with just the on-screen keyboard (you NEED a keyboard and mouse with TVP you have no choice) so we hooked my older laptop up to it for remote access. I installed TV Paint, but the lag from the PC, over the internet, to my shitty laptop and into my dodgy tablet is a bit much.

I could connect the tablet directly to the PC but the cables are not long enough and I have no comfortable chair, unless I want to end up with a sore arse for the end of time, it’s not a good idea to be doing work such as this without a comfortable seat. 

We’ve ordered longer cables, a mouse, keyboard and speakers, but it’s just waiting for them to arrive now. I’m sure there will be just as much delay as the PC parts due to the current pandemic.

What I’d do normally, animating, is have the initial sketchy-sketch (that I had already posted) then build a skeleton atop of that to ensure certain things (like head size) don’t change throughout. I wasn’t able to do that because that process absolutely requires an animation software to complete. It can’t be guesswork. It has to be watched in motion. 

Atop that I clean-line from what I’ve already done. More talented animators can animate in one go, but I can’t do that so I’m stuck doing it in a few layers.

What I had to do this time? Well the keyframes were drawn in Paint Tool SAI, transferred to TV Paint where I did my best with in-betweens. Fixing animation isn’t going to be a thing I can do in TVP so I tried it in SAI. Tried. 

After every few frames I’d export and transfer them to the PC and import them into TVP to watch them in motion. More often than now I’d fuck up somewhere and have to go back and fix the new issue. 

Shading and highlighting was done in SAI also. I had to do the base colour, export as a PNG as to lose the layers, then import them back so I can clip shading and highlighting layers ontop of the flattened image. 

It was... a process.

After all was said and done (including a background and foreground shading / highlighting layers), I imported them into TVP to watch the motion

I do NOT recommend animating this way. 

Just don’t. 

Don’t.

I’m just desperate to animate something after a literal year of being unable to do anything at all lmfao

[nerdsideofthemedia]

Continuing the Conversation about the Portrayal of Racism in RWBY

I’ve read the criticisms done to Faunus and the White Fang: The Portrayal of Racism and I think it’s time to address them.

Again, I am white and do not claim to speak for POC or that my knowledge of racism is amazing (it isn't). I am also not continuing this conversation to criticize RWBY for the sake of it. I just really don't like the idea that the people talking about this are edgelords whose stance of racism nowadays is "it doesn't exist and POC are just whiny".

 I’m going to address the end of my post: Trump. I claimed that the election of Trump proved racism is alive and well and some took it as “people voted for Trump because of racism”. I see how one could interpret it that way, but that’s not what I meant. I meant that all the xenophobic and racist rhetoric didn’t stop Trump from being elected – it wasn’t a deal-breaker. And no, the other options, either Bernie or Clinton weren’t worse or even as bad.

 RWBY doesn’t show racism as something done by individuals but as systemic because... Atlas

For the most part, it doesn’t show it as systemic. I claimed Atlas was the exception in my original post and even extended Mistral with the sign prohibiting Faunus, which reveals there are no anti-discrimination laws there. However, I maintain that’s not enough, especially considering there are 6 volumes.

It seems that Atlas will explore the systemic racism more, considering the first 3 episodes (especially the third) and that's good, but shouldn’t we have had something more before? What about all the other kingdoms? From the conversation of Ozpin and Blake, it seemed like racism is supposed to be a widespread thing, but it’s not if Atlas is the only offender or even if Mistral also is. I think we should have had more of an exploration of the subject in Mistral, considering its history and its lack of anti-discrimination laws.

Even Vale should have been shown more. We had an anti-racist group willing to destroy the city (and die in the process) - there should be a justification for that besides "there are some racists here". It's one thing for a few members to become extreme, quite another for an entire not-so-small group to do so. Not only the WF seems to be a large organization, it also seems to be the most relevant. Yet they decided to attack Vale, the city where racism only exists in a few specific individuals (who tend to be jerks), because... 

OK, to be fair, the individual racists are allowed to be with no consequences. For example, Cardin's bullying of others and specifically of Faunus as he attacked Velvet via her Faunus trait, did not face any consequences for his actions. This shows that more than a few people are very much willing to let others attack minorities, so they're complicit. This been said, I wish we had been shown a lot more. As it is, it just feels hard to believe so many would be OK with both killing and dying for their cause.  

Qrow wasn’t justifying racism, he was just explaining it

He still frames it as understandable and rational in some way with “it’s not too hard to sympathize with that”. To me, it's still "yikes".

 Blake’s speech was wrong, but it’s just meant to be a call to action

A call to action that claims that if they don’t risk their lives to save people who will gladly exploit or injure them, then they will prove the bigots right. Sorry, but that speech is completely indefensible.

I would also like to add that Ghira’s stance of “no violence no matter what” is absurd and it does send a message to the minorities, whether CRWBY intended it or not: don’t fight back ever, not even when someone is threatening you. A stance that CRWBY seems to be changing with Weiss defending Blake at the beginning of V7, but was there until then. Also, what does it say for Weiss, someone who is not a Faunus and actually benefitted a lot from the exploitation of said group, is the one who is allowed to use violence to defend Faunus, while Faunus themselves can’t? That puts Faunus very dependent on "white saviors". I get this is part of her arc and showing she's not the same as she was in V1, still... just saying it risks doing that, even if I hope for the best (which I do).

 Racists are people too

“I think the writers were going for “racists are people too”, which is a troublesome stance to take when you frame the ones fighting racism as flat out evil.”

I can see how this can be interpreted as me having a problem with the portrayal of racists as anything but monsters, so I’ll make it clearer: I do not think that “racists are people too” is problematic in itself, quite the opposite: I think when dealing with racism, we could benefit from showing people who are altogether nice, yet still willing to hold on to their privilege (like say... by voting for a racist candidate). I think it would be great to show racism in a way that is not completely blatant and that would challenge the audience to question their own behaviors. However, I do think that “racists are people too” is an awful stance when you show anti-racists to be completely irredeemable terrorists. The problem here is the extension of sympathy to the racists while showing none to the ones fighting it.

 White Fang is a cautionary tale for what can happen to social justice groups/movements

It can, but it's not often. Either it's a relatively small group of radicals or it's radical members in a very large group in which the majority is not radical. Sometimes, these are made to appear to be worse than they are because the media focuses on their violent actions while ignoring everything else. Sometimes, the media misleads us by ignoring who really started said altercations (though the responses often can be disproportionate).

The problem is that the anti-racists are way less sympathetic than most racists.

 “Remnant can’t be racist, because…”

Last time, I counter-argued some points I have seen around defending that Remnant can' be racist. Someone countered mine when it comes to Leo and the townspeople.

Leo

“in V3 we are shown that headmasters (Ozpin included) are under the council. So while Oz might have chosen Leo, Mistral's council could have booted him instantly”

OK, but how do we know the people in the council aren’t progressive? I mean Mistral still allows for discrimination, but for all we know, the council is deeply conflicted and Leo might have had just enough support to not get booted. Also, not all racism is overt. For someone to actively refuse someone on the basis of race, they don't have to be just racist, they have to be racist, proud of it and not even slightly interested in pretending they're not. Most racists aren’t like that. I don't think putting a Faunus as Haven's headmaster was the best idea, but the argument "a kingdom can't be racist because it has one Faunus in an important position" is just flat-out wrong. Again, the USA had a black president. The Republican Party has black politicians.

 Townspeople

"i really hate how people think this is defending racism. Please, remember the context of what happens. The white fang in Adams short are with an uniform and MASKS, masks that ONLY appear AFTER the first terrorist act commited by ADAM who starts the entire concept. The soldiers having masks already marks them as a terrorist organization by that point, because despite Ghiras leadership, we can see Adam under him, commiting criminal acts. I think that they really dropped the ball on that short with the visuals they employed."

And I really hate how people think blocking someone's path and shouting is worse than trying to shoot people1.

No, you cannot start shooting people just because you find them suspicious, not even when the reason why you think they’re suspicious is that they are wearing masks! I can’t believe I have to repeat this.

Masks=terrorism is one hell of an assumption, even if they were started to be used after Adam’s first act of terrorism. For all we know, WF members thought the whole "we are monsters, so we'll wear masks" was a good idea, so they adhered to it even if they disagreed with Adam’s methods. They were with Ghira and not fighting back at all, despite having weapons. They could have dropped their weapons, sure, but they were still not using them and they would have been completely justified in doing so – it would have been self-defense. It is particularly strange that the person who defended the townspeople action for attacking masked WF members also threw a tantrum over Antifa because some members harassed elderly people for thinking they were racists. Which one is it: is it wrong to attack someone because of what we think they are or not? Why is blocking a path and screaming awful, yet SHOOTING isn't? Weird...

 1 This should not be seen as an endorsement of that Antifa’s actions in that situation.

 More RWBY posts:

Faunus and the White Fang: The Portrayal of Racism

Filmmaking and Bumbleby

Bumblebee was Always the Plan

Bumblebee was Always the Plan part 2

BB & Renora

Weird Post on Weiss’s Clothes

Foils: Adam and Yang (this one is in wordpress; it was my first one and I didn’t have Tumblr then)

Let’s talk about Adam Taurus (I didn’t post this one on Tumblr because the title and tags could lead Adam fans thinking this was about “his wasted potential” when really it defends the decision of killing him off and explains why it happened)

 The original.

[raybyanothername]

SPC - Sunshine, Daria

821 words for Daria's no-good-very-bad morning. Set post-series.

Prompt: "It's like you always said: There's nothing a little sunshine can't fix." (From downwithwritersblock on Tumblr)

-.-.-

It was a foggy day in Boston, the air smelled vaguely of fish and the bus was - per usual - stuffed like a sardine tin.

Daria ignored all this in favor of reading a book with one arm hooked around a center bar. People knocked into her left and right, but headphones and the aforementioned book kept people from actively trying to interact.

Except, of course, the creepizoid staring at her from the seat nearby. He'd moved over the course of the last three stops. Closer each time.

It was a good thing her book was a big one. She might need a weapon apparently. Damn public transportation.

"Are you alright, miss?" Someone tapped Daria on the shoulder. A woman, older, grey hair and muumuu. She was shooting creepizoid sidelooks.

Daria attempted to smile, failed, and then shrugged. She took out one of her headphones too, which seemed to make the woman relax a bit.

"Would you like me to get off with you at your stop?" The woman's words made Daria's jaw dropped. "Oh, dearie, I don't mean to offends! I was just-"

"Thank you." Daria blurted out. She tried to smile again, with marginal success even. "I appreciate the offer, but my friend is meeting me at my stop." Daria nodded towards her phone, which was in her pocket blasting Nickleback. "And I don't want to inconvenience you."

The woman let out a breath, "Oh, good." She glanced at creepizoid again and lowered her voice, "Men like that give me the heebie-jeebies."

Daria nodded, "Agreed." The woman stayed next to her until the next stop, when they both watched as creepizoid got off, alone. "I guess he realized we weren't good prey."

"I wish I could laugh at that," the woman sighed, patted Daria's shoulder, and went to take creepizoid's seat before someone else grabbed it.

Headphone popped back in, Daria returned to her book. The maiden was just about to slay the knight and abscond with a dragon's egg.

Today might actually be be a good day after all.

And that was when everything sent to hell. She'd jinxed herself. All of Boston kindly suffered with her, or at least everyone else on the bus. It broke down. The engine was literally smoking as they were all evacuated to the sidewalk.

Daria took one look at the crowd of people and decided she could walk the last mile to school. It was only a few more blocks and the weather wasn't THAT bad.

Cue the lightning.

The fog was added in its goals of peak horror movie madness by a sudden thunderstorm. Complete with torrential downpour. Electing to save her book - which was technically a library book at that - she shoved it into her backpack.

She sent off a quick text to her friend from class that she'd be late, and not on a bus, and then another venting to Jane. Both responded with emojis.

Daria trudged through the rain, glad she was wearing her signature boots and jacket. Except for the jeans. She was very NOT happy to be wearing denim that was officially chafing.

This was why she wore skirts. Damn the wind, damn gender norms. Skirts did not chafe when wet!

When she finally made it to class her professor gave her a withering look as she dripped on the floor. She squelched as she sat. Tamlin, her friend, had taken notes, which she gladly shifted towards Daria.

There was some finagling to be done so she didn't drip on Tamlin's notebook or her own. But she started to dry and she had fairly quickly copied Tamlin's notes down and caught up on the lecture.

It was, sadly, about the genius of F. Scott Fitzgerald. There was no mention of his theft of Zelda's work and when she brought it up the professor gave her another withering look.

Daria slowly accepted that she was going go have to write her final paper on Zelda Fitzgerald, just to prove a point. She didn't even like her that much… damn principles...

It was another couple blocks in the rain to meet Jane for lunch. She tried not let her jealousy gnaw too much when she saw Jane was 100% dry.

"What? I carry an umbrella." Jane pushed her coffee towards Daria. "You look like you need this more than me." Daria took it, held the warm cup in her hands and sighed.

She was out of the rain, that was progress.

"Hey, the rains letting up!" Jane pointed towards the window. It was indeed letting up. The damn sun was out even.

Jane grinned, her lips lopsided, as she patted Daria on the arm, "It's like you always say: There's nothing a little sunshine can't fix." Daria's glower deepened.

"I am not afraid to go to jail, Lane." She sipped the coffee. "Three hots and a cot, right? Murders a small price to pay."

[capblacksails]

From the embers of the shadows in our pasts (a phoenix will rise)

Post-Canon. Silver-centered. John Silver is a lost man after having lost Madi. He goes to the only person he knows who understands his loss. And (un)surprisingly, here starts a journey full of love… (In short : It’s +20 years of love(s). It’s past hurts, and growth. It’s tying Black Sails to Treasure Island, somehow. Includes also THE two scenes we’ve been robbed of in 4x10: James/John and Madi/John) (James/Thomas, James/John, John/Madi(past), James/Miranda/Thomas(past), Thomas&John). If this fic was BS soundtrack: It would be ‘Funeral At Sea’ I guess?

Read it all : FFnet / AO3 / Tumblr

Companion piece - a collection of canon compliant shorts: The Memories Chest: AO3 / Tumblr / FFnet

From the embers of the shadows in our pasts (a phoenix will rise)

Excerpt part IXb:

"How can you even look at me? How can y-"

"John, let's sit down and-."

"He loves YOU", John ends in a shout, firmly pointing a finger to boot.

Thomas's voice stays quiet; it only makes it sound more authoritative in contrast.

"I know. But I know he loves you too. I've always known; how much he loves you. So. If I was to be jealous of anything, don't you think it should be about your actual place in his heart, instead of his possible place in your bed?"

XI. (part 2)

John is nervously pacing back and forth when Thomas walks in. He stops right away, eyes locking with Thomas's.

"I'm sorry, Thomas. I never intended-"

"I know, John."

Thomas looks at him with kindness; but it slices through John deeper than a knife.

"How can you even look at me? How can y-"

"John, let's sit down and-."

"He loves YOU", John ends in a shout, firmly pointing a finger to boot.

Thomas's voice stays quiet; it only makes it sound more authoritative in contrast.

"I know. But I know he loves you too. I've always known; how much he loves you. So. If I was to be jealous of anything, don't you think it should be about your actual place in his heart, instead of his possible place in your bed?"

Thomas then sits on the nearby chair, gesturing for John to do the same on said bed.

"John; please, sit down."

John sighs, defeated. He owes Thomas that much after all, at the least, indeed: a real conversation. He sits down, facing Thomas's eyes and holding their gaze.

Thomas nods: "Thank you."

"You weren't supposed to find out. I swear-"

"I believe you, John. And I understand you're upset, but I won't have you apologize. You are not to blame. I know you haven't planned for this to happen when you came here. But it happened; so we'll work it out - the three of us together. It's possible, John. You know we already made it possible once."

John shakes his head firmly: "It's not the same."

"Why? Don't tell me you think that Miranda being a woman changed anything about the situation?"

"Of course not. It's not the same because you loved them both; and they both loved you. But you have no reason to accept; you shouldn't be accepting... me. I have nothing but this *betrayal* to offer in return. I only take, Thomas; like a fucking thief."

It is Thomas's turn to shake his head in retort: "John. You are everything but a thief, and if someone has a debt to repay? It is me to start with. I apologize because I'm going to be cruel; but I think that's necessary. How would you feel towards the man who would bring your Madi back to you?"

Despite the warning, it still hurts. But the truth at its chore is nothing but certain. "I would lay down my life for him if needed."

"There you go", Thomas breathes, as if it just settles everything.

John has to argue: "It still doesn't make it right though."

Thomas looks at him with intent: "There is no right or wrong in love anyway, John - at least not when love is true, of course. Only what is and what isn't. And not only did you bring him back to me, you've also kept him alive. You've saved him, again and again. You were there and protected him, when I wasn't. There are no words for how much I owe you."

John has to put things straight.

"You owe me nothing, Thomas. I didn't save him for you. I saved him for the gold; and then I saved him for his sake, because it was my own too. Even at the end, Thomas. It was for him. It was for me. But it wasn't for you. You were what he wanted - a concept, a shadow... It wasn't for you."

"And yet, the only fact that matters to me is that you did. (pause) Besides, your judgment is very biased, John. Love makes us both very selfless and very selfish at the same time. I am not as altruistic as you believe me to be. I would do anything for James's sake, sure. But this is also for me. I have a very personal reason to not only accept but even be pleased by the unexpected turn of event; and honestly? It is what weighs the most... I do not accept this for your sake, believe me; if it can make it easier. You do not owe me anything either."

John's eyebrows furrow. Thomas explains, eyes wandering in the past.

"I never thought them dead, you know. And it has kept me alive through hell. Even when I was told I was officially dead, and I lost any hope of them ever finding their way back to me? There was solace, still, in imagining them alive and well. Where were they? What did they do?"

Then Thomas's gaze comes back to the present, hooking on John's like a vice.

"But James lost me once, John. I will fight with all I have for him not to have to lose me again. But I'm the oldest. Not by far; but still, I am. And if I fail? If I fail I'd very much like to know the two of you are as close as two persons can be, so that you can pull him out of it."

John feels surprised. That's a side track he hasn't seen coming for sure. But somehow, it actually makes sense - much more sense than any other reason.

Thomas pushes his point: "Don't you see, John? It's not a gift; at least if you still want to think it's a gift, then you should know it's poisoned. You're the youngest, John. Even with your leg? Most chances are you'll outlive us both; and I'm counting on it. It isn't fair to you. It's rotten work. It's a burden. But I trust you with it, John. Because you've put him first before. Bringing him here? Cutting him loose?"

John feels... unworthy of Thomas's trust on the matter, to say the least. "Well... I missed him, indeed. But it couldn't matter. He was alive, and loved. That's what mattered. (sigh) I was always going to lose him anyway, Thomas. He wasn't really expecting to stick around. So I simply chose to lose him on my terms; because it was a far better option than having him be taken away from me by the death lurking around every corner. I'm sorry Thomas; but I believe you put too much faith in my abilities to keep him alive. I barely managed at the time; and I only won in the end because YOU were in the balance to start with."

Thomas dismisses John's troubles though. "He missed you too. Believe me; he missed you too. And you forget to take something into account. At the time? He knew you had someone to take care of you, John. He could be reckless, and careless, because he reckoned Madi would pull you through. His judgement was flawed, I agree; but not entirely wrong, and you know it. And I'm sorry as things turned out to be, but now? Now, he sees taking care of you as *his* reponsability. He would never let you down, John. He'd crawl and fight his way out of any hole, no matter how deep; for your sake. I'm betting on this too; and I believe history makes me a fair judge of James's devotion."

And what can John retort to that?

Thomas seems to sense progress, if not yet victory, as John finally keeps silent.

"So. I know you don't want to be taken care of; but I hope you'll continue allowing him to do it all the same. And, speaking about this? Your leg. I know you don't want him to worry. But if you ever need anything, John - any kind of help tending to it or whatever? You come to me. I never offered before because I didn't want to trespass a line. But I've learned recently that he lost you once too, John. And so I have to cross that line. You must be careful, John. For his sake, please do come to me; if necessary."

John holds Thomas's gaze for a long moment. Again, what can he retort to that? He nods.

Thomas gives him a fragile smile.

"Good. See? In the whole, John, nothing is changing much, you know. We always had an agreement, hadn't we? So let's just continue to do what's best for James, right?"

Silence, again.

"You make it sound so simple."

"Because it is, John."

Another silence.

There is one obstacle yet. One that has nothing to do with Thomas, nor James; but one that John *has* to mention, no matter how much he'd rather not. It is simply his best shot at having Thomas realize how much this would only be a very bad and bound to fail idea anyway...

"You don't understand, Thomas. Even if I... agreed? I don't think I can... Physically, I mean."

Thomas doesn't even blink. He inches forward, his voice pitched low and gentle: "But you want. Something... closer?"

John wants to refute; but he knows Thomas knows it would be a lie. But the true answer doesn't come out verbally either. John can only nod.

Thomas gives him an encouraging smile, if anything; and leans back again.

"Then there is your answer, John. I know it can seem... strange? paralyzing? - knowing you want, but not knowing what or how. I stood in your shoes once; about Miranda... Too late though. But I came to realize... It doesn't have to be everything or nothing, you know. Shouldn't there be more than plenty in the whatever in between? If you need his hand in your hand then have it; his arms around you then have them. If you need a kiss then have it. If you need something more then have it too, whatever it might be. But if it bothers you; thinking there are things you might not want - not now? not ever?... Well... Trust me: as for now, and for always if I have a say in it, James has me anyway, for anything he might want. But to start with: James isn't looking for performances, or whatever. Just give him whatever feels right to give him. Believe me: for James? whatever you give will always be enough. (pause) When we rekindled? There were issues; physically, as you say. Our bodies weren't reacting as they used to. We were grieving. We were worn out. And I had... triggers; from my time in Bethlem. It took time, and will, to overcome them. It never bothered him, John. If anything; he felt more sorry for me than for himself... He's not expecting anything, John. He's just willing to take it in stride as you go."

Well. That surely didn't go as planned, huh...

Silence, once more.

"Anything else you think we should address?", Thomas finally asks.

"I'm certain there should be more; but for now... I think I need to think?"

Thomas nods.

"Of course."

Thomas stands up.

John stands up too, finding Thomas's eyes and holding them.

"Thank you for even coming to talk to me; and thank you for your honesty, Thomas, as usual."

Thomas gives him yet another fragile smile.

"You have the right to live, John. And you have the right to find solace, and even happiness. And I'm sorry to speak of her yet again, but I am positive your Madi would tell you the same if she could..."

John's nostrils flare; but he doesn't deny anything.

"Also, I would miss you very much, if it came to that; and I can only hope you'll consider my preference on the matter too."

Thomas then gives him a firm nod, and leaves.

Silence.

John can't help but whisper to the closed door as he sits back down: "I would have missed you very much too, Thomas."

And yes, John notices he has just used the third conditional.

Thomas is bright as an angel; yet the devil's best advocate, it seems.

[windskull]

The Heart of a Hero: Chapter 7

for links to the rest of this fic, check the fic masterlist on my tumblr

Chapter 7: Heart Pounding Grave Tour

The walk across Hyrule Field towards Kakariko Village was not nearly as long as one would think; the sky had only begun to tinge orange by the time that Link reached the path up. The narrow path upwards, however slowed his progress, walking along winding dirt paths and climbing up stone ramps and stairways.

Despite Navi’s suggestions to keep their sound low, lest they attract the attention of unwelcome company or some dangerous beast, Link had taken to playing music along the way, cheerful little tunes on his flute that attempted to his spirits in spite of the task ahead of him. But as the path seemed to continue for far too long, his mind wandered back to his conversation with the princess as one of his songs drew to a close. His fingers faltered, and his stride slowed to a stop.

Navi, who had been following a short distance behind, fluttered in front of Link and hovered in place.

“Is everything okay?” The fairy asked. “Do you need sleep? We can find some place quiet to rest once we get to the village.”

Link shook his head. “No, I’m fine. It’s just…” He turned his head away.

“You’re worried about what you’ve agreed to, aren’t you?”

A moment of hesitation, then he nodded. “I don’t know anything about what might be ahead! Death Mountan sounds… deadly. I don’t know what a goron is. What if they’re not friendly? What if I get hurt? What if… What if I can’t keep my promise to Skully? What did I get myself into?”

Navi paused for a moment. “You’re right,” she responded curtly. “It’s not fair. Neither you nor Zelda should be having to do something like this; it’s an adult’s responsibility. But… What do you do when adults are refusing to do anything?”

The boy sighed and nodded again. “But I made a promise to Zelda too, I can’t just quit and go home… I don’t know what to do!” He threw his hands up in the air, letting out a cry of frustration before plopping down on the side of the road, arms crossed, and shoulders hunched.

Navi was quiet for a moment, turning to look back towards the way they had come for just a moment. Slowly, she fluttered down to land on one of Link’s hands. He looked up.

“Hey,” she suggested quietly. “What if… Why don’t we contact Saria and talk to her? Maybe she could have some advice for you. Even if she doesn’t, maybe it will make you feel better at least?”

Link considered the suggestion. On one hand, Saria always seemed to have good advice. On the other… talking to her might just make him feel more homesick than he already was. He reached into his pocket to swap his flute for the Fairy Ocarina. Wooden fingers rubbed over the surface, admiring the smooth handiwork.

Slowly, curiosity and worry for his friends got the better of him. Link brought the ocarina up to his mouth, began to blow the notes to Saria’s song, getting the notes right after a couple attempts. He closed his eyes, and let his mind focus on the Kokiri girl, imagining that he was sitting beside her back in the Sacred Grove. He played the song once, twice, three times for good measure. Then he finally brought the instrument down from his mouth, and without opening his mouth, let out one hesitant word.

“Hello?”

For a moment, there was nothing. Then suddenly, a voice echoed in the back of his head loud and clear.

“Link?”

“Saria?” He asked out loud. “Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” the familiar voice responded. There was a pause. “Yes, I’m talking to Link.” Another pause. “Here, put your hand on the ocarina and keep it there, that’s how we can communicate.”

Link opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted when a third voice cut in.

“Like this?” Skull Kid’s voice rang in his head. “I don’t hear nothin. Are you sure this works?”

“Skull Kid!”

Link heard a yelp that was cut short, followed shortly by Saria’s laughter. “It’s okay Skull Kid, the magic works by speaking directly into your head.”

More silence. Navi fluttered down curiously to rest on the ocarina too. Skull Kid was the next to speak. “It’s about time you checked in. How’s it going. Did you find the princess yet?”

“Well, yeah-”

“Awesome! How did it go? Will you be back soon?”

“About that…“

“Is everything okay? Did something go wrong?” Saria cut in.

“It’s kind of a long story,” Navi responded. “But the long story short is that the princess asked Link to go get the other spiritual stones. So… it might be awhile before we can come back.”

“...I see…” Skull Kid’s voice came out in monotone.

“I had to agree. Someone has to do it. I mean, yeah it shouldn’t really be my job-”

“That’s right, so you should just come home so we can hang out again,” Skull Kid cut in again. “You shouldn’t be held responsible for something that adults won’t take care of!”

Link was silent for several minutes, only finally responding when Saria gave a worried “...Link? Are you still there?”

“I want to come back…” He started in an almost silent whisper. “But… I don’t think I can. Not until I’m done. Because if I don’t do this, we’ll all be in danger, won’t we?”

“I wish I had a better Answer for you…” Saria responded. “But I don’t really know much outside of the forest, other than things that I’ve been told by others. But… I think you need to follow your heart. If you think it is something you need to do, do it. What do you think, Skull Kid?”

Skull Kid was silent for a long time, long enough that Link was worried he might have stormed off again like before. But finally, he heard the boy sigh. “I guess you’re right. Just… hurry back okay? You have no idea how boring it is hanging out with Saria all day waiting to hear from you. She wouldn’t let me put spiders in Mido’s soup, even though they are absolutely delicious!”

“Not everyone enjoys a spider sandwich, Skull Kid,” Saria’s voice responded. Link laughed in response.

“So where are you right now?” Skull Kid asked.

“We’re on our way to this place Death Mountain to meet with the gorons,” Navi responded.

“Oh, they’re very friendly most of the time,” Skull Kid interjected before mumbling afterwards, “Maybe a little too friendly…”

“Skully, you know something about gorons?” Link asked.

“Oh!” Skull Kid responded a little too quickly. “Oh, you know. More people then Hylians pass through the woods. I’ve seen a goron or two before.”

Link nodded, accepting the explanation. “Okay.”

“Link, it’s getting late. We should keep walking, even if you talk while we go. We don’t want to get locked outside again.”

“Oh, that wasn’t so bad,” Link responded, though he still nodded and pushed himself back to his feet, keeping one hand on the ocarina. He began to walk once again.

“So, what was the castle like? And the town. You gotta tell us everything!”

Link laughed, surprised by his friend’s interest. “Well, where do I begin…”

The sun had only just dipped below the horizon by the time Link reached the quaint little town. A bright, nearly full moon filtered behind storm clouds beginning to roll in, illuminating the rooftops of several houses of varying sizes. Light from inside the buildings poured out onto the grassy common areas. The village seemed mostly devoid of life outside, save for one emaciated man resting under a tree past the village gates

Link had ended his conversation with Saria and Skull Kid some time ago, choosing to make the last of his trip in silence, only the sound of wildlife, his footsteps, and the jingling of Navi following behind.

The skull kid carefully approached the gates, taking refuge in their shadows as he cautiously eyed the villager. Navi fluttered to a rest on his shoulder.

“Hey,” she urged quietly. “We should ask for directions, don’t you think?”

Link’s gaze shifted to the fairy for a moment, then returned to the man. He shook his head.

“Let’s just… sneak by and find it ourselves. What if he doesn’t like-“ He cut himself off uncertain about the using the word that popped up in his head. “…me.”

“Nonsense!” The fairy replied with a jingle, lifting up from his shoulder. “It will be fine. Here, come on, I’ll even ask for you!”

Without a second thought, the fairy took off, making a beeline for the man. Link shot a hand out to try and stop her, but it stretched into empty air. As he heard her begin to speak though, he finally slowly, ever so hesitantly, began to creep out of the shadows, his eyes trained on the stranger.

“Hey, excuse me?”

The man was slow to look up, not acknowledging Navi at first. When the man made little motion, crept even closer, standing hunched and tense behind Navi

“Excuse me,” she tried again. “We were hoping maybe you could give us directions?”

The man mumbled something.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you, could you please speak louder?” Navi asked.

“I said to get out of my face. People are disgusting. Licking the boots of people in power, caring about no one but themselves. Even my own father and mother are disgusting.”

“I’m…. sorry?”  

He tilted his head up to stare at Link through baggy, narrowed eyes.

“I bet you’re disgusting too!”

Link stiffened, wide eyes locking with the man’s. For a moment, he was frozen in place.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?” The man growled. “Go ahead. Laugh if you want. Laugh at the village freak.”

Whether through anxiety or through courage, Link finally found the courage to dart away, taking off at a dash past the man.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Navi quipped at the man. When he did not respond, she huffed before fluttering past to catch up with Link.

The boy did not stop until he reached a well near the center of the village. Besides the creepy guy at the entrance, the town appeared deserted; everyone seemed to have taken shelter at dusk. He took a seat along the side and took a moment to calm himself.

Navi fluttered to a rest on Link’s shoulder. “Are you okay?” She asked quietly.

Link gave the fairy a tiny nod. “I’ll be fine.”

Navi seemed unconvinced but chose not to press the matter. Instead she gave him a reassuring pat. “Hey, we should find someplace to sleep, don’t you think?”

Link turned his head. “I’m not really tired.”

A drop of water splattered onto the boy’s forehead, then another onto his ear.  Navi fluttered down to gently tap against his forehead where the water had splattered. “Nonsense,” She chided. “You may not be tired now, but you will be when you have to climb a mountain tomorrow. Come on, let’s look around a little. Even if you don’t want to try asking anyone for help, I’m sure there’s someplace safe you can shelter around here.”

The skull kid lowered his head, then finally gave in, giving Navi a “mmhm,” of consent, and then stood, taking another look around the village. Most of the houses were well lit. Normally, he did not feel all that bad about sneaking into places. But adults were a much bigger wild card than kokiri, who at worst might chase him around with a stick. Lifting his head back up, he spotted a dark path out of the corner of his eye, leading away from the village under a stone wall. There, that seemed like the perfect place to go for some peace and quiet. Quietly, he rose to his feet and patterned towards the archway.

The area beyond the arch was elevated in levels, odd wedge-shaped stones lining the cobblestone path. A stone gateway and tall wooden fence heralded the entrance to the enclosed area, a small little shack to the right just inside. A smaller, rickety wooden fence separated the shack and entrance from the stones.

Link carefully crept further into the area, uncertain of what to expect. A few more drops of water splattered on his face. Never that he could remember had he seen anything like this. He’d seen circles of stone made by the kokiri in their games. But each stone was irregular and messy. These were all uniform, with a set design and set a specific distance away from each other.

The boy approached the nearest stone, running a hand on the engravings. Some of it was a design; three triangles together making a bigger triangle, a bird, and other markings adorned the stone. But there was also text that Link could not decipher the meaning of.

“What does it mean?” Link asked.

“These are gravestones,” Navi explained. “They mark where people are buried after they die.”

He stared at the fairy for a moment as his hand brushed over the stone again, then lifted it as something else caught his eye.

“Hey look, over there!” He dashed off up the hill to the far end of the graveyard, coming to a stop in front of what had grabbed his attention. Although he could not see all of it well in the dark, he had made out a larger stone at the very end.

“This one seems special, what does it say?”

The fairy was silent for a moment, flying closer to illuminate the words. “... It says it is the tomb of the royal family.”

“So dead royal people are buried here?”

“It seems like it. We probably should not be snooping around here, Link, let’s try to find someplace else to sleep.”

Link started to agree, but a glimmer below his feet caught his eye in the moonlight. He took a step back, revealing a golden triangle mark at his feet, the same design as on the other gravestones. The more he thought about it, the more it reminded him of the stories that Zelda and the Deku Tree had told him.

“Hey,” he started, an idea coming to his mind. “Do you think anything would happen if I were to play that song Impa taught me here?”

Navi turned back to Link, watching him fiddle around in the darkness for the ocarina. “I don’t think it’s a good idea Link…” But before the words were out of her mouth, the boy had already started to play the little song.

At first nothing seemed to happen. Disappointed, Link began to turn away. But a distant rumbling, like thunder, stopped him in his tracks. Suddenly, the earth beneath his feet seemed to tremble. Another roll of thunder. And then it all seemed to stop. Link slowly crept back towards the gravestone, curious.

A flash of light. Before Link could react, there was an ear-splitting crack and explosion. The boy went flying into the air, dust and rock raining around him. He hit the ground with a hard thud, the breath knocked out of him. He tried to get up, but his entire body felt dull and distant. His head swam.

The last thing he heard before slipping away to unconsciousness was Navi calling out his name.

**********

He felt tired, and weak. His legs seemed to just barely function, only allowing him forward with stumbling and staggering steps. He felt a pang in his stomach but did his best to ignore it. The forest around him was dim, only the sound of the wildlife and his own footsteps accompanied him. Everything was filtered through weary eyes. He had to find… something. His brain was so fuzzy, he could not remember what.

He stumbled. He tried to push himself to his feet, arms shaking, but he couldn’t find the strength. Maybe a rest was in order.

…

He had never felt so exhausted. He had never felt so alive.

He was cold and frightened. He felt brave and rejuvenated.

He was… Link? Yes. His name was Link. He was… He did not remember what he was doing. But he was Link! That much, he could be certain of.

He looked down to his hands. They were small, so small, made of shrunken, skeletal wood and bark with little whisps of darkness peeking out around his joints. His arms too, were of the same ashy wood. He brought a hand up to his face. It too seemed to have the same texture, and he had a feeling that, if he were to look in a mirror, it too would have the same wooden look.

He pushed - no, he sprang to his feet with an excited hop.

He did not know what he was, or where he was, but he knew that he was Link, and he knew that he did not have to be scared of the forest. The forest would keep him safe.

He ran.

**********

Link startled awake with a gasp, sitting up suddenly. Immediately his head swam and his vision blurred. Nothing was very painful, per say, but everything ached.

At first, his mind tried to grasp out and hold onto the dream, but the mundane memory quickly slipped away as he finally focused well enough to check his surroundings.

He was in a small wooden shack, resting under old, tattered, ratty looking blankets on an equally old-looking bed. Sunlight filtered through a small, slatted window onto his face. He blinked once, squinting in the light, and then turned his head, letting out a surprised cry when he realized that he was not alone.

To his side was a small wooden desk, Navi sitting on top and staring at him with worry etched into her features. But it was not Navi that caught him off guard.

To the side of the desk sat a man, staring at him intently. The human appeared old and lumpy, the beginnings of wrinkles clinging to his skin. His chin jutted out into an oversized underbite. The man’s beady eyes peered out under a balding head. His clothes were an old, muddy, sleeveless shirt, and and equally dirty trousers and boots. His skin was a clammy white.

Despite his off putting appearance, the man seemed non-threatening, a goofy smile on his face.

Navi was the first to break the silence. “Link?” She asked. “Are you okay? You’ve been asleep for a long time. I was worried maybe some of the debris hit your head…”

Link blinked a couple more times, trying to grasp at what had happened. That was right, he had played the royal song. And then lightning had struck nearby and…

“I’m fine,” he finally responded, shaking his head. “Just… sore.”

Navi broke out into a smile.

“Oh thank the goddesses. When you didn’t get up - even as it started pouring rain - I worried you were in worse shape. You’re fortunate Dampe, the gravekeeper here, happened to help you out.”

Link turned his attention to the bald man beside Navi. The man laughed.

“It’s-all good,” he slurred in a friendly voice. “It’s not often I get a visitor as unusual as yourself! Yer little friend here happened to see me leave my shack and came to me in a tizzy beggin for help. ‘Course I was happy to.”

“Link,” Navi led on when he said nothing and instead stared, “what do you say when people help you?”

“Oh, um, thank you,” The boy responded quickly with a bow of his head.

Dampe let out a hearty laugh. “Ha ha! No need to thank me little fella! Just think of it as a favor.”

Link gave the man a nod and opened his mouth to say something else but was interrupted by the sound of his growling stomach. The last time he had eaten had been his snack before sneaking into the castle the day before - if it was actually only yesterday.

He reached his hand down for his bag, and found it gone.

“Your bag is over there by the door.” The man gestured a meaty finger towards the exit. “I don’t have any food ready for you, sorry. I wouldn’t know what a, uh… a skull… kid…?” He shot an aside glance to Navi, and when she nodded, he continued. “I wouldn’t know what you would’a ate.”

“It’s okay,” Link responded quietly before kicking the covers off and pushing himself to the side of the bed. “I have plenty in my bag.”

For a moment, as he climbed to his feet, he was unsteady, body still aching. But he quickly spread his arms out and caught his balance. He shuffled over to where his bags - and boots apparently - were stored. First, he slipped the boots back onto his feet. Then he pulled the drawstring bag open, opting for one of the sweet pastries he had bought in Castle Town, and took a bite before reattaching the bag to his belt.

“Leaving so soon?” Dampe asked.

Link nodded. Navi stretched before lifting into the air, coming to a rest on Link’s shoulder. “We have a long journey ahead of us,” she responded for Link. “We have to head up the mountain at Princess Zelda’s request to meet with the gorons.”

The man chuckled. “Oh ho now, well, if you go back into the village main, there’s a path across the way with a guard stationed outside. That’s your path up the mountain, can’t miss it.”

Link gave Dampe a nod before taking hold of the handle of the door.

Dampe waved. “Come back and visit sometime! If yeh come at night, I might even give yeh a discounted rate to my grave tour service!”

The boy paused, halfway out the door? “Grave… tour?”

The man laughed, giving his knee a light slap. “Ol’ Dampe’s heart pounding gravedigging tour! Come back some evening and I’ll tell ya all about it.”

Link nodded slowly, still not really understanding what the man was talking about. “O...kay. Maybe I’ll see you again sometime. Thank you, Dampe.”

“Anytime kiddo, don’t be a stranger!”

Link closed the door behind him. The graveyard was much less gloomy in the daylight. The sun shone hight overhead; it must have been close to noon now. Link fidgeted with his belt nervously. The sooner he got up the mountain, the sooner he could get the stones to Zelda and go home.

He began to walk back towards the path leading towards the village, but a thought caught in his mind, and he instead found himself making his way towards the place he had been knocked unconscious the night before.

Navi continued a bit of a ways down the path, but as soon as she realized link had turned the other way, dashed after him to catch back up with the boy.

“Hey,” she called out. “We need to go this way!”

“I know, I know,” Link responded, holding a hand up. “But I want to check something first.” He followed the cobblestone path back up and around the side of the graveyard until he came to a stop at the marker he had stood in front of the night before.

Or at least, where it had been. Now, however, the stone was scattered in chunks around the area, leaving a gaping hole where the entrance once was. Link inched forward to peer into the hole. With the sun directly overhead, he could just barely see the bottom. A ladder allowed access below. He could only assume that several people were buried in the hole, and that the ladder would allow access to bring more into the grave when they were ready to join the bodies below.

He turned and began to scale down the ladder.

“Link, what do you think you’re doing?” Navi hissed, keeping her voice low as she zipped around his head.

“I’m going to check it out. I want to know what’s down here.”

“No you don’t, there are dead bodies down here, and that’s it! It’s impolite to go messing with people’s graves!”

But Link did not listen to the fairy, instead continuing his decent until he felt comfortable enough to hop down the rest of the fall. Navi let out a frustrated sigh and followed behind, not daring to leave the mischievous little child alone.

As Link’s eyes adjusted in the darkness, he could make out a pathway ahead of him. Slowly, he inched his way forward in the darkness, keeping one hand to the wall as guidance. Before long, the path opened to a small, stone room.

He let his hand fall to his side, then carefully crept forward further into the room. The light from the hole had left him behind, leaving only the dim glow from his eyes and the brighter glow from Navi to guide him.

His leg kicked something, sending it clattering across the room. He paused, waiting to see if something would happen, and when nothing did, he crouched to feel for whatever he had hit. His hands clasped around something, and he picked it up to get a better look.

Bone.

He tossed the bone away quickly, taking a better look around. As Navi flew forward in front of him to see what he had dropped, he could now see several bones scattered around the room, skeletons that had fallen to pieces and been scattered over time.

“Probably the remains of grave robbers,” Navi reported, flying closer to Link. “Are you satisfied? Can we go now?”

Link shook his head, edging further into the room until he found himself at the far side of it. In front of him was some sort of ledge that reached just over his head. He reached up and pulled himself to the top. A second ledge followed this one, and a third one after that. He scaled each of these too. When he reached the top, he found himself face to face with a door.

Slowly, he reached a hand forward and pushed. The door swung open with ease. He scurried on past it to see what might be ahead.

A small hall led to the next room. An unnatural glow illuminated the walls. From where he was, Link could see that the glow came to a pool of odd liquid just inside the room.

Feeling brave after the previous room, Link rushed forward. But as he reached the pools edge a high pitched shriek filled the air. For one long, horrifying moment, Link found himself frozen in place, unable to move anything but his eyes. They darted to the side. A horrible, rotting, shrunken creature had begun to shamble towards him. Navi zipped under his hood and spoke in a harsh, hushed whisper.

“That’s a redead, Link. As soon as you can move, walk back towards the exit. Slowly. It will lose interest if you don’t run.”

Link’s eyes instead darted to the pathway at the other end of the room. Several other redeads blocked the way. But none of them had begun to move.

He felt power return to his muscles. But instead of beginning to inch back towards the exit, he began to creep the other way. His eyes darted back to the side. Sure enough, as Navi had said, the redead had slowed to a stop, only staring.

“Link, what are you doing?” Navi hissed.

Link didn’t answer, instead continuing his painstakingly slow journey across the room, keeping an eye on the nearest redead. But finally, after what felt like forever, he reached the hall at the other end, leaving the creatures behind him.

Still, he had not a clue what lay on the other side, so he continued to move slowly. The same unnatural glow as before came from the next room. As he entered it though, he found it only had the water, and not the redeads as before.

The boy let out a sigh of relief and dashed on into the final room.

The walls of this room were covered in writing, ending with a wall adorned with the triforce symbol he had seen outside. Two unlit torches stood at either side.

The boy came to a stop in front of the shrine of sorts, looking over the odd etching he could not understand.

“Navi,” he asked quietly. “What does it say?”

“If I tell you, will you go back afterwards?”

He considered it for a moment. This was the end of the path. There was nowhere else to go but back. He nodded.

The fairy let out a small, relieved sigh. “Okay.”

She flew up to illuminate the words in front of her and spoke the words in a soft voice. “This poem is dedicated to the memory of the dearly departed members of the Royal Family. The rising sun will eventually set. A newborn's life will fade. From sun to moon, moon to sun… Give peaceful rest to the living dead.”

As the final verse came to a close, she was quiet for a moment. “Well, that was an interesting poem… huh?” Her attention was drawn to something etched into the corner of the stone. “There’s something carved here… it’s a song! Can you read sheet music?”

Link tilted his head, then shook it. “I don’t know what sheet music is.”

“It’s music written down… oh nevermind I’ll hum it for you. Who knows, maybe it will come in handy?”

Link brandished the ocarina as Navi began to hum. He carefully fingered the notes he knew from memory, matching them to the notes Navi was playing, then followed the notes she played behind, repeating the simple melody a couple times. Once he was certain he had the notes down, he returned the ocarina to his pouch.

“Are you done?”

“Mhmm.”

“Good, let’s get out of here!”

Link spun around and began the cautious journey back, through the tomb, taking great care to avoid disturbing the redeads as he passed through the middle room. As he passed through the final room, he kicked something again. This time, it did not give way like the bone before had. Instead, it held fast.

Link let out a startled cry and too late reached his arms out to catch himself. He hit the ground hard with an oomph, the item that tripped him clattering behind him.

After a second of recovery, he reached back to see just what could have tripped him up. His fingers came in contact with metal, and as he sat up, he found himself looking down at an old battered shield, its surface a brilliant blue and silver even in the dim light made by his eyes.

“Navi!” He called out to the fairy as she looped back to check and make sure he had not hurt himself. “Navi, I like this. I’m taking it with me.”

Navi let out a slow breath. “Link, taking something out of someone’s grave is what we call grave robbing. It is very, very bad.”

The boy tilted his head, staring without blinking. “Why? They’re not using it!”

“It’s disrespectful!”

“Oh… I’m taking it anyway.”

“Link!”

Link ignored her protests, instead taking the time to latch the shield - which was as big as his torso - around his tiny arm. It was certainly too big to use like this, but he could find a use for it later, after he got out of this murky hole. At the minimum, it would make a neat trophy. With his new treasure in tow, he headed back to the ladder and scrambled back out into the fresh, afternoon air.

This time, he wandered back to the village, stretching in the warm sunlight. It was much busier in the daytime than it had been the night before, the sound of people chatting, cuccos clucking, and hammers pounding away at wood filling the air. A few people stopped to give him curious, wary stares, but otherwise he was unbothered as he made his way back towards the well.

“Over there.”

Navi fluttered off to the side. Link turned his head and, spotting the barred inclined path ahead, dashed off after her.

In front of the gate, it was grassy. But it quickly gave way red dirt and stone beyond. A single, extremely bored looking guard stood beside the gate, leaning against the wall with a spear in hand.

Remembering his experience back at the castle, Link approached with hesitance in his step. Navi, however, was not waiting around and flew forward until she was in the man’s line of sight.

As soon as the man noticed the child approaching him, he stood up straight, holding out a hand to stop Link. “Hold it,” he started. “This area is not safe for children. Er…” He paused, taking note of the oversized shield and the sword on his back. “Even so, the road is closed except to official business only. Can’t you read.”

Link’s eyes flickered out for a second. “No. I can’t.” He paused, turning his head to Navi. “But… the princess sent us. That makes this official right?”

The guard stared them down quietly for a moment, then let out a snort, covering his mouth. “O-oh, did she now?”

Navi narrowed her eyes but did not comment. For a moment she was quiet, then, a memory of the day before sparked in her brain. She bobbed up and down for a moment. “Oh! the note, show him the note, Link!

Link made a tiny noise of realization. Immediately, he slid the shield off of his arm and reached into his bag, fishing around for the parchment Zelda had given him the day before. As soon as it came in contact with his fingers, he pulled it out, all but shoving it into the guard’s face.

The man blinked a couple times, then slowly leaned his spear to the side to take the parchment in both hands, turning it over once before opening it up to read the note contained inside. His straight face quickly gave way to an attempt to hide a grin. By the time he finished, he was snickering.

“This is Link...He is under my orders to save Hyrule.” The guard barely withheld his laughter. “W-well, I can verify this really is the princesses’ signature. What kind of funny game has she come up with now? I guess I have no choice.” He finally contained his snickers. “Are you sure about this kid? I really do mean it is dangerous up there. Tektites are all over the path. Not to mention the dodongos that sometimes come up from the depths of the mountain.”

Link simply nodded in response, eyes set in determination.

The man let out a small sigh and shrugged. “Alright, hold on.” He turned to walk to the far side of the gate where an iron wheel was set into the stone. Taking the wheel in both hands, he pulled down. Slowly, the gate began to open, creaking back to allow passage.

Impatient, as soon as the gap was wide enough to slip through, Link picked up his oversized shield again and slipped right on through, waving goodbye to the man as he took off up the path.

The day was already halfway over; perhaps it would have been better to stay in Kakariko another night. But he could not bring himself to wait any longer. Already, he was one more step closer to the second spiritual stone.

[lostinfic]

8 | Swimming

Mercier x Betty British Raj AU

Calcutta, 1902. The word ‘dance’ comes to mind, their own choreography of gazes exchanged across the room, brushes of hands and half-spoken confessions. They orbit around each other, destined never to collide it seems; Mercier is upper class, Betty is a governess. And he’s spying on the family whose children she swore to protect. But in this foreign land of spices and silk, of golden gods and lush forests, where cultural norms clash and wane, even destinies must yield to desire.

Rating: Mature Word count: 3.4k You don’t need to have seen either show.

A/N: the bridges mentioned in this chapter are actually in Cherrapunji, not close to Kolkata. Check them out here Tumblr   |   Ao3   |   This chapter on Ao3

≔

Two days after her encounter with Jean-François at the theater, Betty received some surprising news.

“Gabrielle Mercier requires your help,” Lady Wigram announced, entering the governess’ classroom.

Betty looked up from the stitching she was preparing for today’s lesson.

“She sent her carriage. Hurry up, girl.”

As Betty walked past her, Lady Wigram grabbed her upper arm. “I have yet to receive an invitation to that wedding.”

“I will mention it.”

Betty was so surprised, she headed downstairs without taking any of her things.

Lord Wigram came down the stairs at the same moment.

"I have some business in town," he said vaguely. "Will you be back for supper?"

"I-- I don't know."

He looked suspicious. "Surely Miss Mercier won't keep you over for supper. The girls will need you tonight.”

"Yes, your lordship. I'll do my best to be back by then."

Outside the house, a driver held open the door of a closed carriage. Betty stepped in, wondering what Gabrielle could possibly need her help with.

“Good morning, Miss Salinger.”

“Jean-François! But-- what are you doing here?”

“Whisking you away.”

Betty squealed with joy and threw her arms around his neck to kiss him.

In a letter, she’d told him about lying to Lady Wigram about the earrings, saying she’d helped Gabrielle, and he’d found it was a perfect excuse to spend the spend the day with her.

“You crafty devil. Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he said.

“Can I get a clue?”

“You asked for companionship and adventure from me, and that is what you will have.”

The coach took them well outside the city limits. Betty stared through the window at these new landscapes unfolding before her eyes, feeling increasingly excited.

On a forest’s edge, they stopped in front of a small bungalow, the kind found all across the country, along the roads, for travelers to rest. This one was a bit more posh and cleaner. Jean-François explained it belonged to the French government, for those going into the jungle.

Above a stone fireplace, two rifles crossed under the stuffed head of a nilgai, a large specie of antelope. Betty turned her back to it.

“You will need to change clothes for our adventure today.” He handed her a canvas bag. “Gabrielle lends you these. You may choose whatever you like.”

Betty went into one of the bedrooms. Curious, she emptied the bag on the bare mattress. An assortment of skirts, shirts and hats tumbled down along with a pair of boots, all in various shades of white and brown. After some hesitation, she dared pick a toffee coloured skirt and a white button down, a bit too long so she tied it at the waist and rolled up the sleeves. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, with her pith helmet and flat shoes, she looked like an explorer.

Jean-François too smiled when he saw her.

“Is this alright?” she asked, second-guessing herself. “Seems a bit improper.”

“I doubt we will meet other people. The important thing is that you are comfortable to walk in the forest.”

“I am.”

“Splendid.”

Jean-François shouldered a khaki canvas bag and guided her down a narrow, beaten-earth path. The skirt swished around Betty’s calves, it was shorter than her usual skirts, made for walking in tall grass and mud, she enjoyed feeling the breeze up her legs.

Their footsteps stirred the scent of moist soil and grass. Enormous spiky aloe veras and generous glossy ferns flanked the trail. They housed all manners of colourful caterpillars and iridescent-shelled critters. It was still early in the day, and mist lingered in the palms, sunlight streamed through it in soft beams. On the branches of eucalyptus and tulip trees, birds chirped to their heart’s content.

Ripe mangoes hung in grapes from a tree. Jean-François picked two and showed her how to peel it with her teeth. Juice ran down their fingers and chins, the fruit flesh was warm, sun-gorged, and sweet. It was messy and wonderful.

“We are almost there,” Jean-François said after a while.

“Where?”

“Listen.”

They stopped walking and stood in silence. Soon, the rush and gurgles of water reached her ears.

“A river?”

He smiled and took her hand, the excitement made him look years younger. The path curved to the right, and Betty saw a bridge arching over a flowing river.

Betty gasped. “Is that the bridge you told me about in your letter?”

“I wrote to you about a bridge?”

“You were drunk.”

“Ah. That letter.”

Betty bumped him with her shoulder. “It was charming in a way.”

“I saw this bridge in passing quite a while ago. I have wanted to come back since then.”

“So, you’ve been here before?”

“As I said, in passing, we were on a mission. I know the area a little bit, but I wanted to discover it with you.”

As they approached the bridge, Betty realized it was unlike any other bridge she had seen before. “It’s made out of roots!”

“Yes, the Indian rubber tree—”

“The Ficus Elastica. I read about it in a botany encyclopedia. Oh, it’s extraordinary!“ She smiled wide, pressing her hands to her cheeks as one would when looking at a puppy.

The rubber trees produced a series of secondary roots that the War-Khasis and War-Jaintias tribes pulled, twisted and tied to stretch across the river. It took years to accomplish, but these bridges lasted centuries, growing stronger over time.

“Can we walk on it?” she asked.

“I should hope so.”

Flat stones lay across the surface to facilitate the walk, moss covered them. On each side, roots of all sizes weaved together like a net, as high as Betty’s chest. She walked carefully, one hand clutching the side for support and the other gripping the back of Jean-François’ shirt. Under them, the river rushed by in great frothy gurgles.

A pair of children climbed on at the other end and ran the length of the bridge, passing swiftly under Betty and Jean-François’ arms. Feeling safer, Betty walked faster, enjoying rather than worrying. Crossing this organic bridge, in the middle of a lush forest with a lovely man felt like something out of a fairy tale. Glee bubbled up in her throat from the sheer delight of being so free, and Jean-François laughed with her.

Too soon, they reached the end, and he helped her down. He lifted by the waist and twirled her and held her until she was steady on her feet. They kissed with laughter on their lips.

They walked a while longer, a trail parallel to the river, leading downstream. They crossed path with a few locals, Betty said hello to them, but most bowed their heads and stepped out of their way.

As the day progressed, nearing noon, the air grew hotter and the animals quieter. No breeze stirred the branches. Betty pulled on her collar, drops of sweat slid down her back. She wiped her forehead on her sleeve. Jean-François touched her temple where sweat soaked the fine hairs there. He offered her some water.

"Do you want to stop? You may not be used to this kind exertion."

She huffed. “Try running after three kids all day."

“Fair enough.”

To hell with etiquette, this hat was only making her hotter and palm leaves provided shade enough. She pulled on the ribbon under the chin and fanned herself with the hat. "I must look a right mess."

"It suits you," he said. “I’m hot too. Let us find a nice spot to rest.”

They ventured away from the trail, towards the sandy bank. A month earlier, the river would have been overflowing from the rains. Some distance ahead, a cluster of rocks and boulders slowed the flow and filtered the larger debris. The water sparkled and meandered under the blue, cloudless sky. A hint of freshness rose from it, and enticed Betty.

As Jean-François spread a canvas sheet on the ground, Betty quickly removed her shoes and stepped into the river. A sigh, almost a moan, escaped her lips at the relief of cool water on her swollen feet.

“Will I have to rescue you from the river again?” Jean-François said.

Betty flustered and hurried out of the water. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have.”

“No, no, Betty, I was joking. Here.” He took off his own shoes, rolled up his trousers and joined her.

She blinked in surprise; her whole livelihood hinged on being strait-laced every hour of every day, so she still wasn’t used to someone accepting her deviations from etiquette.

The water rippled around their ankles, then, as the ripples faded out, their reflection materialized on the shimmering surface. Both of them, together, shoulder-to-shoulder, smiling. The sight of it shaped their bond into something tangible. Real, but fragile.

“You were so brave that day when you jumped to save the boy,” he said.

“Careless, more like.”

“No,” he said. “You were brave. I remember you said you would have liked to stay in the water because it was refreshing and you laughed…”

The way he smiled at the memory, shyly, head bowed and lines fanning out at the corners of his eyes, made her heart soar.

“Thank you,” she said, “for saving me that day... and every day after that it seems.”

Jean-François fervently kissed the back of both her hands.

“Shall we go for a swim?” she asked.

“Yes we shall, Betty Salinger,” he said fondly.

Betty hid behind a tree. Her heart hammered in her chest as she unbuttoned her shirt and removed her skirt. She hung them carefully over a branch. After a moment of hesitation, off came the petticoat and corset cover. Her hands shook as she released her corset and unclipped her stockings. Only her drawers and chemise remained, simple white garments with a thin trim of pink lace. With her arms and legs bare, the heat she felt could not be blamed on her layers of clothing anymore.

Hesitantly, she stepped out of her makeshift dressing room, arms covering her chest. She had not let a man see her like this in five years. Jean-François had undressed down to his pants and undershirt. She could tell he was trying not to stare at her.

“Ready?” he asked.

She took his hand ,and they ran into the water, giggling, and dipped their whole bodies in one go. Jean-François emerged, shaking the water off his curls.

“The water is gorgeous,” Betty said.

She floated on her back among the water lilies and closed her eyes against the sun. Her body swayed to every ripple in the water.

Before long, she became aware of her breasts peeking above the water, the wet linen of her chemise clinging to her skin. She kept her eyes closed, pretended she wasn’t aware of it and hoped Jean-François noticed.

A branch fell into the river, and Jean-François stood up to remove it. The white cotton of his pants couldn’t hide the effect she had on him.

“So you really do like me,” she teased.

He studied her with a strange look in his eyes.

“What is it?”

“Who are you, Betty?”

“Pardon?”

“When we first met, you were suspicious of my intentions and I presumed you had been deceived by a man before, but there is more to that story.” He swam closer to her. “And your letters, they show a certain inclination. You’re not… innocent.”

Despite the cool water, Betty’s cheeks flared up. She’d promised herself she would never tell the story, not even to her husband-- if she ever married, which was unlikely in her position.

Betty swam away, to a flat rock and hiked herself up on it. Under Jean-François’ expectant gaze, she fiddled nervously with the edge of her chemise.

“You can trust me,” he insisted.

A lump rose in her throat. She wanted to open up to him.

“The first family I worked for, the man was a doctor. There was a regiment in our town, and soldiers often came to the house for ailments. It’s how I met… him. An officer, from Poland. He said he loved me, promised we would run away together and marry. We were caught, I lost my position, and he left, heartbroken, without making good on any of his promises.”

“This is why you had to use Wigram’s obligation to you father?”

“I would never have found work again otherwise. If I were smart, I would not have come here with you.”

“You’re safe with me, Betty. I always keep my promises.”

“You’ve never promised me anything.”

“Because I don’t take it lightly. I can promise you I will not tell a soul about what happened with the Polish man.”

She held his gaze for signs of treachery-- he didn’t waver.

After a moment, he sat on another rock, facing her.

“What kind of man do you like?” he asked.

“Honest. And kind.”

“I really do like you, Betty.”

Without thinking, she glanced at his crotch, down to a more modest size.

“You said honest and kind, you didn’t say anything about size.”

She laughed.

“Was he a good lover?”

She blushed, not only because of the question, but because of the answer.

“Do you still want me?” she replied instead of answering. “Yes.”

“I ain’t a trollop.”

“I know. It’s not easy for you women.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to do it behind the theatre? Because you thought I was innocent.”

“I didn’t want to do it there because you deserve better.”

“Is a river any better?”

“You tell me.”

Betty considered their surroundings, all these different trees and flowers, insects and animals, wild yet living in harmony. Nature at its purest. And she thought, if humans were stripped from their petty civilities and prejudiced morality, maybe this attraction between her and Jean-François would also be nature at its purest.

“Would you kiss me again? Just a little,” she said.

Mercier slid off the rock, and crossed the river to her. Her breath hitched as he rose from the water. Leaning forward, he placed his hands on each side of her hips. Drops fell from his hair, down his nose, landing on his bottom lip. He slowly cocked his head to the side, her lips parted with an expectant sigh, and he pecked her Cupid’s bow.

“Not fair.”

“Payback’s fair.”

She pouted.

“You said ‘just a little’,” he pointed out.

“You know what I want.”

“You think me a mind-reader. I suspect you don’t even know yourself what you want.”

“I do… but I also know I shouldn’t want it.”

“Do you think what we’re doing is wrong?”

“Well, Lady Wigram—”

“No. What do you think?”

“I think I want more.”

She kissed that spot again, at the base his throat, licked the water up his neck and nipped his jaw. He whispered a French curse before capturing her mouth.

His nails scratched the rock and the tendons of his arms tightened as he restrained himself from touching her body. She had no such qualms and slipped her hands under his shirt, caressing up his waist, exploring his ribs.

Since meeting her, he had not been with another woman, and his flesh reacted wildly to her touch. Like striking a match, sparks of pleasure kindling the heat in his stomach. He had to stop before it consumed him. He leaned back to break the kiss, but she pushed forward, and gently caught his lower lip between her teeth. Something like a growl echoed in his chest, he slid a hand through her hair, and licked at the seam of her mouth and she let him in. They tasted each other’s moans. He bucked his hips into her knees, and she opened them to accommodate his body.

“Betty, I have to stop, before I can’t—” She interrupted his protest with an eager kiss, wrapping arms and legs around him.

She wiggled her hips.

He gave up on resisting her.

With both hands on her bum, he drew her to him. Through the fabric of her drawers, he felt the heat of her sex. He couldn’t resist pressing against her, seeking friction on his hard length. She held him tighter and moved her hips. Mercier hissed against her mouth. He devoured her neck with kisses, travelling lower, licking along her collarbone and over the swell of her breast. Spurred on by her moans, he sucked through her wet chemise until her nipple pebbled between his teeth.

Betty grounded desperately against him. Strangled noises, half moans, half sobs, escaped her throat as she clawed at his back. It wasn’t just water now soaking their underwear.

He wanted to tear their clothes away, but even for that he couldn’t stop. Her scent, her kisses, the way she whispered his name, it all intoxicated him. He’d imagined making love to her slowly, but here he was, sweat beading down his spine, as he rutted between her legs.

Betty bit his shoulder to muffle her cries. She was close. He cupped the nape of her neck to make her look at him. Her hair was wild, her pupils blown wide.

“Please.”

He pushed her legs farther apart, pressing more directly into her.

Between the folds of fabric, his thumb found her sensitive nub. He rubbed tight circles and admired the moment pleasure overwhelmed her. Her jaw dropped, her eyes fluttered shut, and he caught her last breath of release with a kiss.

“Beautiful.”

She covered her mouth with her fingertips, a passing mortification that morphed into giggles. He kissed her over her fingers, sucked lightly on the tips.

Mercier lowered himself in the water, he rested his head on her knee as he stroke himself. She ran her fingers through his hair, and he bit her inner thigh when he came.

“And I was just thinking we’re not so different from animals,” Betty said. The mirth in her voice told him she wasn’t upset by what they’d just done.

“Yes, animals.“ He nuzzled her neck, imitating a cat’s purr, and she scratched behind his ear.

They spent the next hour, lounging idly under the sun, her head on his chest, his arms around her, altering their position only to sip water or grab a snack. Now that she’d revealed the truth about her past, they spoke more freely. An intimacy of minds and bodies, sharing doubts and caresses, secrets and kisses. Every time Mercier learned something new about her, his affection grew tenfold, and with it a protective streak.

“Have you seen another Frenchman at your house? De Brem, he’s blond with a mustache?” he asked.

“I think so, a few times.”

“Has he talked to you?”

“No. Jean-François, what’s wrong?”

He told her how de Brem sent him to Dhaka under false pretenses to harass Gabrielle. “When he was at my house… he saw a letter from you to me.”

“He knows? Why didn’t you say so before?” She raised herself on one arm, alarmed.

“I’m not sure. It may be nothing, but steer clear of him.” And he added, to reassure her, “I’m taking care of it.”

He’d already sent a petition to his superiors and confronted de Brem himself about his behaviour. He couldn’t tell Betty de Brem was now in charge of the investigation on Wigram as Mercier had yet to reveal he’d been spying on her employer.

“It must make your work unpleasant,” she said.

“It already was.”

There was the boredom of this administrative tasks now that the thrill of being in a foreign country had passed, but every day he grew more uncomfortable with the European presence in India. In Dhaka, his mission had been to help a French plantation owner settle a dispute with the authorities to ensure the prosperity of his business. But his wealth came from abusing the local people; they toiled in the indigo fields, from dusk till dawn, under a relentless sun for a meager salary while he sipped brandy in his ornate living room.

“They would be better off without us,” he summed up. “You saw how they fear us and hate us. With good reasons.”

“But I thought we were doing a good thing. Helping them.”

“How?”

“Well, we-- we employ them.”

“As servants, slaves almost!”

Betty flinched at his outburst. “I didn’t think…”

Of course, she believed the propaganda the British empire fed to its citizens. Elaborate intellectual arguments to justify the exploitation: bringing them democracy and a modern lifestyle.

She hadn’t been in India long and always within the British district of Calcutta, surrounded by people who had made their fortune on the backs of Indians. She had not seen everything he had. He described the poverty and abuse he’d witnessed, but censored himself so as not to upset her too much.

Her forehead puckered and her lips set into a grim line. “That’s awful,” she said quietly.

He tugged her back to him, and gently stroke her back.

“Will you go back to France, then? If you don’t like it here,” she asked.

“Maybe. France or elsewhere. Somewhere new.”

“For adventures?”

“For adventure,” he agreed.

“Then you shall need companionship.”

“Indeed.”

They smiled at each other and kissed. There was a promise, on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn’t sure he could make it quite yet. Soon, he thought, holding Betty closer.

Chapter 9: Shivering

[hufflepuffmarlenemckinnon]

Dog meets Duckling

An Excerpt from my Novel-Length Fanfic The Dog and the Duckling

Summary: Sirius is assigned to mentor Marlene Mckinnon when she joins The Order of the Phoenix. His perceptions of Hufflepuff house are drastically changed, and so is his life.

Rated Teen mostly for language and innuendo.

A/N: So most everyone who follows me will have gathered that I headcanon Marlene as Duck animagus for a lot of the fic I write. I decided to put some of the backstory of that up on Tumblr in case anyone was curious. I’ll keep these blurbs listed in chronological order on my Fic Masterlist.  

August, 1980

“I need new friends.”

Sirius mumbled empty insults under his breath. His closest friends had left him in the lurch. Sure, they had a valid reason, what with their 6 day old baby and all...He didn’t really think that they should have planned their family with more consideration for him. But he couldn’t help feel annoyed at the new duties to The Order of the Phoenix he would pick up due to James Potter’s absence for the next 8 weeks.

He felt a smile coming on as he imagined little Harry giving them at least a tiny bit of hell.

James Potter was probably changing a nappy at the very moment that Sirius attempted to keep his eyes open while reading over files on the newly enlisted witch he’s be mentoring. James’s task would be more brief but certainly had a more unpleasant odor. The little parlor room The Order of the Phoenix rented at The Leaky Caldron was perhaps a bit musty from old furniture and neglect, but that was the worst of it.

Sirius has persistent doubts that he’d be a suitable mentor. He didn’t really understand why Dumbledore chose him to take up this slack.

He went over the possible reasons in his head. Because pointless mental conjecture was one of the long list of things that Sirius Black enjoyed more than paperwork.  

I suppose I was the next best thing?

He wasn’t. He knew this. The Potters were the sort of people that took naturally to leadership. They’d been head boy and girl during their 7th year at Hogwarts and they were both more patient and more responsible than most people in their early 20s. Sirius was a far cry from that description.

Two years out of Hogwarts, the goals he’d accomplished were less, “find a wife, buy a house, have a baby” and more “try not to be a gigantic twat to anyone today”.

He was fairly pleased with his progress in being less of a twat. He hadn’t been born to be a good or a kind person because certainly none of his family possessed those qualities. He didn’t even become aware that it was an option until he was 11 years old. His youthful attempts at catching up were often abject failures in real decency. He’d been a major twat a time or 50.

He really had gotten better. He didn’t feel like a decent person deep down, but it was certainly what he was aiming to be.

Sirius didn’t really do “responsible” though. He once bought new clothes because he was so rubbish at laundering spells, rather than practicing up on the aforementioned charms. It seemed reasonable to Sirius. He rode a flying motorbike and never found himself compelled to follow the rules in favor of having a good time.

He considered the possibility that Dumbledore was using this as some sort of mission to persuade him into behaving like more of a role model. The only flaw in that theory was that it assumed Dumbledore had reasons for all the things he did. Sometimes he just did things. No one knew why. Including Albus Dumbledore himself.

But reason or no reason, Sirius was stuck with the job and very soon he’d be face to face with his new mentee; Marlene McKinnon of Hufflepuff house, age 16. It was his his job to teach her how The Order works and let her follow him around, watching and learning,for the next month until she went back to Hogwarts.

She’d be entering 7th year. Sirius figured she must’ve gotten bored and restless during the summer or that perhaps her older sisters and brothers going off to fight in wars seemed exciting to someone that young. With four siblings in the order she’d be an obvious recruit after she finished 7th year.

He spotted the line on the file in front of him that stated Marlene wouldn’t even come of age until August 31st.  Generally, The Order wasn’t wild about taking under-age witches and wizards or even of age ones who were still at Hogwarts.

There were exceptions. Sirius found a pondering what made Marlene McKinnon exceptional more interesting than her file as well.

7th years were particularly vulnerable to recruiting from the Death Eaters. Having a 7th year spying for the order and keeping tabs on who had taken the mark and who was likely to to do so was a fairly useful thing for The Order. It had been done before.

But a McKinnon would be ghastly choice for this task.

The McKinnons were a well known wizarding family. All fervent supporters of Muggle Born equality and every one of them (now that their youngest had signed on) was Order affiliated. Sirius didn’t know their exact percentage of Magical ancestry and thought that sort of tedious detail was better saved for people who were vile enough to care. His mother probably would have known.

The McKinnon parents were a black Londoner witch and an Irish wizard. Their five children had slight variations of skin tones in the middle area between their parents. But every one of them had the same hair. It was instantly recognizable, as it was large. Heaps of ringlets that seemed to grow out rather than down. It wouldn’t be hard to spot a McKinnon in a crowd from a broomstick at a distance. Not a great quality for a spy.

So when the girl showed up 20 minutes early with a smile as broad as Hagrid’s shoulders, he didn’t have to ask who she was. This was obviously Marlene McKinnon of Hufflepuff house. She had more freckles than her sister Grace, who’d been in Sirius’s year, but he contended that they looked related.

The beaming impish girl was tiny under all the golden-brown spiral curls. Sirius had encountered taller 2nd years. Her taste in muggle clothes might have made someone else look like a bit of a rebel.  Marlene, on the other hand, looked like a human sunflower who inexplicably enjoys muggle bands with a penchant for profanity.

She’s actually quite pretty.

As soon as he’d had the thought he mentally backtracked and argued with himself over how she wasn’t really beautiful. She might have been more accurately described as cute. Sweet looking. Like a kneazle kitten. She had nothing of the icy untouchable beauty that his own family was known for. Sirius thought maybe that whole concept was overrated anyhow. His deranged cousin Bellatrix may have been one of the great beauties of her generation, but nearly everyone would agree that she was terrifying.

Marlene was anything but terrifying. The only thing Sirius found disconcerting about her was that she was looking at him like Godric Gryffindor come again.

Was she under the influence of a curse? Was she confusing him with someone important? Or just… confused in general?

Sirius was entirely oblivious to the fact that Marlene McKinnon had been looking at him like that for quite a while. She’d considered herself well over it by now, even. But as soon as she walked in she realized that the crush she’d acquired when she was in her 4th year and he in his 7th, was not entirely a thing of the past. Then-14-year-old Marlene had decided that Sirius Black was perhaps the most impressive young wizard she’d ever come into contact with when she heard he’d run away from home and subsequently been disowned for rejecting his family’s blood supremacist ideologies.

She was completely smitten when she found that along with his principles and willingness to stand up for them, he also possessed strikingly handsome good looks. His high contrast coloring and steel grey eyes in combination with his aristocratic bone structure made it hard for Marlene to focus on anything else, even from across the dining hall.

Her siblings who were still at school with her at the time, Grace in 7th year and Lucan in 6th, took notice of her besotted gawking. The sibling pair, who were always closest with each other, did not hesitate to tease their baby sister mercilessly.

Marlene had ended up saying yes to the first boy who expressed an interest in her in 5th year, just to prove to them that she was over her silly crush. She made a noble effort to overlook Reginald Cattermole’s uncanny resemblance to a ferret. Poor sod. Never stood a chance. She got increasingly bored of him during 6th year and gave him the boot officially some months back. And now she was back to square one. Sirius, naturally, hadn’t even been aware of any of this while it was going on.

He thought that no one looked at him like that. Though he liked to think he was quite pleasant to look at (Marlene would concur), in general he was looked upon with suspicion. And that was amongst his allies. There were plenty of witches and wizards who looked at him with complete contempt. But until that very moment Sirius didn’t think anyone had ever looked at him like Marlene McKinnon had from the moment she walked in the front door.

He was really enjoying it.

But why? It was weird. I should stop. She should stop.

“You’re Sirius Black.”

“I am. But I’m afraid you have this whole introductions thing backwards. I already know who I am. You’re meant to tell me who you are. But I’m fairly certain you’re Marlene McKinnon? Am I right?”

“Yes. That’d be me. Errrm… I meant to have introduced myself. Not just gape at you like an idiot, then tell you your own name. And I’m early. That’s...unfortunate. Uh… I’m pretty bad at this. I’m sorry?”

“It’s alright, Marlene. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. You’re bad at… what exactly?”

“So many things, really.” She laughed.

Sirius decided that the ability to laugh at herself would come in handy if she was always this strange around people. He actually kind of admired that quality. He was of the opinion that most people took themselves too seriously. It was tedious for him to spend time around people like that. He got the immediate impression that Marlene was anything but tedious.

“Well aren’t we all? I’ve never mentored anyone before and I’m sure I’ll be very disappointing. Truly, I’m sorry that you got stuck with me. You can send complaints to the Potters.”

He thought maybe a small dose of self deprecation would put this little tightly wound ball of nerves a bit more at ease. Looking at her posture was giving him a crick in his neck.

It was also Sirius’s earnest opinion that he would be a terrible mentor. He had no idea what he was even meant to do with her. He felt it was likely that he would forget to feed her or something, like he had done with that goldfish he’d won at that muggle fair.

“Oh no; not at all.” She blurted out as if it were all one word.

As Marlene continued to speak, her words tumbled out at an impressive pace without so much as a pause for breath.

“I was thrilled when I heard you were going to mentor me. I always thought you were so brave, walking away from your family like you did. That must have taken an enormous amount of courage. But I hadn’t seen you since you left school and you are exceptionally good looking and I got distracted and forgot that I was supposed to say my name when I meet a person.”

Sirius did his best not to let his face react in any way while Marlene cycled through approximately 50 facial expressions within the span of a minute.

Sirius wondered what planet was this girl had come from. Grace McKinnon had been fairly Hufflepuffy in his recollection, but she wasn’t the personification of a broom crash when she spoke. But just like a broom crash, Marlene was impossible to look away from. Sirius was transfixed. But he preferred to think that he wasn’t quite terrible enough to have to hold back a laugh at a broom crash.

He was at a loss of anything at all to say. Lucky for him that Marlene, whose embarrassed blush might have been visible from her far off home planet, felt compelled to fill the air with more of her rapid fire words.

“Oh sweet Merlin did I really say that? I’m so so sorry. I think I should probably go. Maybe I’ll tell Dumbledore I’m not cut out for The Order. Maybe I’ll move to Spain and start a new life…”

“That really won’t be necessary. Besides it would reflect pretty poorly on me if my first mentee ran away to Spain after meeting me once. So I must object. You’ll be great with The Order. Your heart is in it. It must be. You’ve still got a year of school left but here you are.”

“I thought maybe I could help. Everyone’s so scared. You-know-who is gaining ground. I’d rather be part of something that stops him than sit idle and be scared.”

“See, you do belong here. Please don’t run away to Spain. I’m sure your brothers and sisters would miss you terribly.”

“I suppose they might. A bit. Well, maybe not Gawain. But the rest. Do you know them?”

“I was in Grace’s year. We’ve never been close but she seems like a lovely person. You look a lot like her. You all look alike. Gawain too. What’s wrong with Gawain?”

Marlene did look like all the other McKinnons. But Sirius had never given more the conventional looking Grace a second glance and if he had glanced any more at Marlene it would have constituted a full on ogling.

He reminded himself that he shouldn’t look at her like that. She was someone he’d have to see every day for a month. Then possibly work with in the future. He didn’t dip into that pool. It was needlessly messy, when he was Sirius Black and was not lacking in options.

Marlene had just called him exceptionally good looking which, while true, was not something he expected people to announce at random. So by doing that she confused his brain into considering the ways which she was attractive, or would be, if the circumstances were different. Or that was the mental gymnastics he performed to excuse his giving her the once over, anyway.

“Gawain’s terribly embarrassed by me. I’m… pretty embarrassing. So I don’t really blame him. But we aren’t particularly close.”

“I have a thing or two to teach him about what it’s really like to have embarrassing relatives. Did you know that my first cousin tells people that she’s the Dark Lord’s mistress? You’re not embarrassing. I… look forward to working with you.”

All the impulses Sirius felt towards Marlene felt wrong and contrary to the image he attempted to portray to the world. He was supposed to be blazé about people’s opinions of him. Self confident and cool. He felt anything but cool when intentionally bringing up Bella’s terrible taste in men. Could Voldemort even really be called a man at this point? He looked… not entirely human. Sirius idly wondered if he had all the working bits. But he would not go as so far as to make any inquiries into the matter.

Marlene looked so anxious. Her nervous fingers played with the ripped hem of her too-big shirt. As endearing as her nervous fidgeting was, Sirius wanted to make her feel more at ease.

But why should he care if she’s awkward? Probably that was just her. Why was he making himself uncomfortable in efforts to make her less so? He didn’t do that. He especially didn’t do that for skinny 16 year old Hufflepuffs with huge hair and school girl crushes.

But he did. And he continued to, even as he thought about how he didn’t.

“So you think she’s not his mistress but she tells people that she is? That’s. Wow. I can’t think of many things more embarrassing than that. Actually being his mistress would be less pathetic, at least.”

Her sunny smile was back. Sirius felt a small sense of victory before she averted her gaze down to her yellow-stitched boots.

“I don’t know. I mean that’s my theory. But I don’t keep a sneekoscope in he-who-must-not-be-named’s bedroom.”

“Do you think he even has a bedroom? You know I’ve never before this moment thought of him being a person who does mundane things such as sleep or shag your cousin. But he must, right? He can’t possibly devote every moment of his life to terrorizing and murdering. Do you think he does his own shopping?”

“He probably has his minions do it or else a house elf, but now I really wish he did do it himself. I like the mental image it creates. He’d need breaks from reigning terror for a few hours on Thursday afternoon, because he needs to stock up on fresh produce. Can you picture the poor shopkeeper, totally gobsmacked?”

“You make jokes about He-who-must-not-be-laughed-at too. Gawain would be so scandalized.”  

The pair were having quite a laugh at the expense of the most dangerous dark wizard alive. They were both sure that this was going to be fun. Sirius decided that he needed some fun in his life now that James and Lily were busy with their baby.  

[diana-panda]

wow I can’t even remember the last time I logged onto Tumblr. This place used to be my life, I even had to reset my password to log back on here. i’m amazed that I still have followers. looking at things I used to blog about is so bittersweet, I legitimately feel the things I felt back in the days. shit was really changed since then. been broken over and over and having to grow bigger and bigger. I decided every few years I'll make a  post, a lil update of my life so I can  continue to self reflect on the shit I wanna change. considering I know absolutely none of my followers, this is the perf place for me to just unload a bunch sack load of shit. covid was crazy this year, survived that shit and realize all those years smoking have really fucked my lungs up. today I got another call from Dahni, who I still consider as my best friend forever. one day when we both got our shit together and both thinking straight again, I know we’ll be able to be friends like we used to. I never pick up to phone numbers I don’t know but every fuckin time I randomly choose to pick up to a rando number - it’s Dahni. this is the 5th time she has called me from a mental hospital. it’s crazy, never thought my life would have be me working in a mental hospital and her coming in and out of one. after all these years, you’ve probs haven’t seen her in 3 years - but she has never ever forgot your phone number, even when she has completely lost her mind. she literally doesn't make sense when she talks. at the beginning, you sometimes understood the shit she said and understood what she meant and felt because you were that fuckin close to losing your whole damn mind before you decided to get sober. still so proud of you choosing to be sober, even after probation, even after drug tests. Dahni still remembers your literal exact address. she said she’s been sending you letters for the past 2-3 years but you haven’t seen shit, especially because you moved to Milwaukee this year. you texted daddy but he said he ain’t seen shit, probs lying, he would hide this shit from you. he always hated her but he doesn’t understand that it was actually you who got her into drugs in the first place. I pray all the time Dahni has completely lost herself or she’ll be able to return to herself again, I miss having my best friend around. after the call, you looked at oldddd ass pics like 2015 shit, yall were the craziest - up and just went to alberqueque, breaking into hotels and creating body slides out of tables and chairs in the ballroom, tripping at the trail of lights and deciding to just walk towards the Austin skyline, there were so many pics I don’t even know where we’re at. I miss that life with you dude, not giving two shits about anything and doing whatever we could to just live life. you were the one person I connect with in such a weird way. anyway 2020 was the year I had to finally grow up, and I can’t be more proud. the reason I got sober was because I was drugged then gang raped in 2016, but I have finally accepted that it happened and I am finally moving past it. your ptsd and anxiety was debilitating. months of therapy with no progress, Janet your psychologist thought the best option was drugs to calm you down but you refused, mommy had to move down to San Antonio with you, you got daddy to install security cameras around the house, you went to 3 different police stations and 2 different apple stores because you thought you were being tracked, a panic attack literally every fuckin day, you got your first gun - but damn shit has changed. I think when you got rogue, that was the start of your life changing around. you used to walk her literally only on your street but now you can walk her for hours anywhere. you got control of your own life again. texas sunshines helped you tremendously, you met a few life long friends - even though you made some besties but ended up losing them - either way, they helped you return back to your old self, the free spirit and careless golden wild beautiful soul you had. exposure therapy - that shit works. going to 6th every weekend, even a couple times a weekend helped you a lot. you had only a couple freak outs where you let your anxiety take over you but there was progress. you have grown so much the past 4 years, it’s honestly mind blowing because you used to be at rock bottom. you legit lost your mind at one point, legit rock bottom, even hearing voices and seeing shit, Janet said drug induced psychosis - but your resiliency and strong heart and soul helped you, with the help of god of course. you were in such a dark place but getting through that helped you be where you are now. but none of this could've happened without the help of your parents - they taught you the definition of unconditional love. maybe that’s why Dahni is still battling this love and hate relationship with drugs - she doesn’t have this support system like you. your parents never gave up on you dude, like how am I ever gonna repay them, because if it wasn’t for them - I'd literally be dead long ago. you still have only told a few of your close friends. Dahni and Mikayla a year after it happened. kiara, erin, and Gracie 3 years after it happened. maybe that’s all that ever has to know. this shit don’t define your life anymore girl. it sucked but you have let that shit take enough of your life. no more living in the past. you live and you learn. stop thinking of ways how you’ll somehow find these fuckers and make them pay, they’ll get what’s coming to them. I used to pray everyday these fuckers got killed and died a horrible and painful death but you’re letting them win every time you waste a second thinking about them. just be thankful you got out of that shit alive. you have this deep rooted reputation of a party girl. but never forget, daddy defended you when yall had guests over once - “yes she parties a lot, but she also studies hard too.” you’re legit a UT grad, you got into grad school - which you are killing. you’ve never been a straight A student but now you are in grad school whaaat. but you know if you studied this much and this hard during UT - you would’ve had a higher gpa, but no regrets. ever!! my time at UT was truly a blessing - it was the best time and worst time ever. that was boot camp training you to be resilient. you used to think you were being punished for having to move to Milwaukee for grad school but that was the biggest blessing in disguise. Jim howard was right, even if I did get accepted into UT’s msn program - I shouldn’t go or stay anywhere near Austin, I have too many distractions here, I would’ve failed out immediately - I need to start thinking like a healthcare provider, people’s literal lives will be in your hands. you can’t kill no one dude, losing your license will actually be the end of yo life and all this school and bullshit would’ve been for nothing. Milwaukee was rough at the beginning but you’ve grown to fall in love and appreciate its true beauty. you needed a break from Austin, it’ll always be your endgame and it aint going anywhere. you got to start over, start fresh, grow up, it was exactly what you needed. Milwaukee was the place where you defeated your ptsd, your annoying anxiety - I mean yeah sometimes you do psych yourself out but you have made the craziest progress, even Janet is so surprised and proud of you! you fuckin live alone and do a damn good job of it. but it wouldn’t have happened without Lola. rogue saved you 4 years ago and now Lola has saved you. they are both fuckin wild and misbehaving, but I am sooooo thankful I have them in my life. god put the most perfect dogs into my life, they helped you be where you’re at today. you even made a fuckin solo trip with just you and Lola from Milwaukee to Austin, stayed in Memphis with just yall 2 and literally no panic attacks. never thought that would have ever been possible. lol having your gun around definitely helps. this year you realized that you used to be fat, how come no one told you omg. but that doesn’t matter because you have finally reached the weight you had on your vision board that you made in high school - 105. you got home from grad school and literally every single fuckin person in your life has said you lost so much weight - girl you didn’t even know it, you don’t got a scale in Milwaukee. but looking at past pics, holy shit girl you lost weight. you still got some to go but good job dude - don’t ever let yourself get that bad again. your new goal is to be 100, then you can stop stressing. lol you’ve been trying to lose weight literally since high school, and all it took was grad school and being depressed AFFFFFFFFF to lose 20 fuckin pounds! with the help of addy too. yeah you were depressed, started in the 2nd semester of grad school and was at its worse at in the 3rd semester. but you yourself, and Lola of course, pulled yourself out of that. you walked to the beach, appreciate the scenery, focus on the sound waves - learn to love life again. you’ve changed so much dude, I feel like you’ve finally lost all of your old self now. quarantining for covid made you finally truly clean your room and rearrange it. took the biggest cleanse of your life, and damn it was a struggle because you the biggest hoarder out here. you found your old pieces, crazy how you still got them, you found old pills, even weed - proud of you for throwing everything away finally, and real quick. because you did think about smoking some and pop a pill or two - what’s the worst thing that can happen right. bitch you know what can happen, normal people can do that but you have forever fucked your mind up, like physically and biologically fucked up your brain. the way drugs works on your brain and Dahni’s brain only has a dark side to it - drug induced psychosis - every time, no matter what or when or how long it’s been, you have forever fucked that up. yall dropped the ball on that shit, yall did it too much, esp the mind altering shit and will never be able to enjoy drugs again - but that’s okay. you don’t need that shit. okay for guys, fuckin listen to me here girl. we ain’t going into zayne or Terren - yo first 2 boyfriends was just dipping yo feet in the waters for dating. you already know what you learned from them. you know what you want and don’t you ever fuckin settle.”life is a mess when you settle for less.” I loved Arin, and I'll always love him. your dumbass almost married him but why, knowing he does not meet half yo standards. from Arin, you learned you want someone that treats you like a princess like he did, he always showed you off, he put you on a pedestal, you were legit his everything - you want someone that does that, where you are their everything. but you don’t want someone who gets angry like that, who lets problems get bigger and bigger til they explode - shit needs to be fixed immediately, if your their everything - shouldn’t they do everything in their power to make sure it stays like that. from josh, you learned you want someone who you can be your goofy self and have fun and literally laugh all the damn time with you - it was such a fun time with josh, yall really did have this amazing connection. he truly loved you and honestly truly loved you. I loved josh, and I'll always love him too. he was the first relationship you had after getting raped, and he showed you how to trust men again. these 2 dudes lacked goals and had different visions for the future from you. you’re such a goal oriented and family oriented person - they were not. you worked hard to get to where you are today, and continue to drop the guys and the people who will get in the way of your goals. friends too - if they ain’t with you, drop em. in the end, it’s your family who will always be there for you. lol you truly treat guys like shit dude and everyone knows it, you don’t even feel bad about it, maybe it’s from being raped, maybe it’s from that ginormous wall you’ve built, or maybe you’re just that afraid of getting hurt, but that’s okay, you can keep doing that, it’ll get rid of the weak ones - what you can’t do is treat the good ones like shit, like tai. you never expected to find a dude so different, but maybe that’s what you need. he’s the exact opposite of the typical guys you usually go for - a fuckin gamer, not 6 feet, lol even asian. you didn’t date tai but yall definitely had something for 6 months. he has never done drugs and doesn’t want to even try drugs - I didn’t know that was maybe something I needed in a guy. from tai, you learned that you do want someone who went to college, grad school is even better, super caring about you. at one point you did think he was going to be the one - he speaks Vietnamese, he’s in pharmacy school, he can game with your brother. he may seem perfect but you learned a lot of shit you don’t want in someone. you’re not on social media a lot anymore, other than snapchat. you even had insta deleted for months - then when school ended for winter break, it took you awhile to download insta again, but when you did, you made one post and never got on it again. tai is super in the social media world, and you don’t want that. you’re starting to be someone who really lives in the moment, the shit happening right in front of you matters to you more, you don’t want someone super into the social media world. he doesn’t treat you like you’re a priority to him, he actually makes it clear that he actually doesn’t give two shits about you - so why you allowing yourself putting any efforts into that. the second he’s upset, he’ll drag that shit out and won’t try to fix shit at all - you need someone who will fix shit right then and there so yall don’t go to sleep at night angry, you need someone who will fight and continue fighting for you no matter what. he doesn’t apologize for shit and when he does, there is always an excuse - you need someone who owns up to shit and apologizes sincerely. you deserve someone who truly cares about you and is committed to you, they need to do anything in their power to keep you and show you love you and not give up on you. you did not get gang raped to settle down for someone who doesn’t make you feel loved. you did not graduate from UT and get into grad school for someone who causes you mental stress and make you unhappy. you did not grow into this strong, independent, brilliant ass woman to date someone who makes you question your worth. you deserve someone who continuously challenges you to be your best self and make you feel beautiful. cami said you deserve someone who spoils you, and she is damn fuckin right. you have come so far, getting sober, getting into grad school, someone needs to feel lucky as fuck they have you. but what’s the common denominator between all these dudes - quit pushing guys away, quit purposely ruining shit because you’re scared of shit, quit getting pissed because they don’t react the way you wanted, quit overthinking shit because you’re usually fuckin wrong. just don’t settle for less but allow yourself to get close. your trust issues ain't going anywhere, but learn to put your guard down a tad bit, let yourself get hurt - it’ll only make you into a stronger bitch than you already are. nothing will ever hurt you nearly as much when you got raped. if you got through that, you can literally get through anything. a lot has happened in the last 4 years, but you know what you need to focus on. continue working on your best self. keep thriving and surviving. maybe we’ll self reflect and reorient again when grad school is over in a couple years and you’re back in Austin. just be happy <3 do your best and fuck the rest

[growningupgeek]

Heart of Stone

Word Count-3464

Characters-Reader, Sam, Dean

Pairing-Sam X Reader

Prompt- Prompt-Person A-I'm going to need chicken blood, salt, five candles and a bottle of vodka Person B-Vodka for the spell? Person A-No, that's for me to feel better about what we're about to do

Written for Andi’s Back in the game challenge. It got a little out of hand and I”m not even sorry.  Betaed by @the-thirteenthhour and @wayward-ella thank you for volunteering at a god awful hour of the morning. Thank Google Translate for having Latin for an option: I made up the summoning and banishing spell.(Don’t try it at home, kids.  If you do and it actually works don’t blame me.)  The donut that I describe does exist, I’ve gotten it from Cops and Donuts and it might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten.  Tags are under the cut, if you’d like to be added or removed from my list please send an ask or a message because we all know how Tumblr is with notifications. 

           The sound of the phone ringing at the front of the store sent you flying through the displays to catch it before whoever was calling hung up.  Taking a deep breath as you smacked the speaker button you spit out, “Celtic Cross, this is (Y/N). How can I help you today?”

        Sam Winchester’s voice, filled with laughter, came through the phone.  “Either you stopped working out or you ran from the back of the store.”

        You didn’t suppress the smile that crossed your face at the sound of his voice. “Hey, Sam!  It’s your timing, of course you had to call when I’m setting up a display at the back of the store.”

        Sam laughed harder at that, “Sure blame me because you’re out of shape. Can we stop by?”

        “We? Sam, you know I’m a one guy at a time kind of girl,” you teased.

        A loud laugh on the other end of the phone surprised you and an unfamiliar voice said, “I think I’m going to like this one.”

        A giggle escaped you as you imagined Sam’s face turning red. “I’m gonna guess that’s your brother.  Yeah, come on over.  Go around to the apartment entrance, I just happened to make a chuck roast today.”   

        You hung up the phone and locked the front door of the store.  A quick check of the wards on the store showed they were all intact but you reinforced them since both of the Winchesters were going to be there.  Being friends with Sam Winchester had it benefits but also its drawbacks.  The main drawback being that if anything found out about you it put a huge target on your back, so you invested any extra power you managed to gather into warding and shielding your shop and home upstairs. As you climbed the stairs to your apartment your mind drifted back to the day Sam had come into your life.

        The jingle of the bell over your shop door alerted you to a customer coming in.  You turned to greet the person only to have your words die in your throat at the sight before you.  He was almost a foot taller than you wearing a dark blue suit and white shirt that hinted at muscles underneath, you gave your head a quick shake before he caught you staring at him.  Drawing a deep breath to gather yourself, you walked quietly over to him.

        “Is there something I can help you with,” you asked.

        You noticed him start a motion towards his back and wondered he had a gun as his hazel eyes ran over you like he was assessing a threat.  He turned the motion into pulling a leather case from his jacket pocket.

        “Agent Dante,” he said. “I was told that you were the person to talk to about the local…”

        “Pagan groups,” you supplied helpfully as he trailed off.  He nodded his head with a dimpled smile that made you just a little weak in the knees. “Is this in regards to the recent string of deaths in area?”

        “Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

        You motioned him to join you in your office.  As he closed the door behind him you turned towards him and looked him over once again.  If he was with the FBI, you’d eat one of the crystals you carried.  You motioned him to take a seat as you booted up your computer.

“Before I give you this information I want to know who you really are,” you growled at him.  “And don’t give me any more bullshit.”

You turned the desk chair around, to find him staring at you with his mouth hanging open slightly, shock written on his face.  “You have to be a hunter, don’t you think one of us would notice the pattern of these murders.”

You sketched a sigil in the air and for just a second it hung there between you burning with a white light.  He started back, definitely reaching for a gun this time.  A gesture from you held him in place; he struggled for a minute before giving up and shooting you a glare that would have fried you if he’d had even a trace of talent.  You let the bonds loosen a little before you spoke.

“I’m not going to do anything to you,” you said softly.  “I’ve been helping hunters since I was a teen and a hunter named Bobby Singer saved my family.”

The man’s face softened, “You knew Bobby?”

It hadn’t been the best beginning, but you became friends and more in the course of the case.  When Dean had vanished into Purgatory, Sam had shown up, broken and bruised both inside and out.  He’d stayed with you for a year, helping out around the shop and living a mostly normal life until the day Dean called.  Then he’d been off again: there had been frequent phone calls and text messages since then but you had never met Dean.  You wondered how Dean was going to feel about his younger brother kinda, sorta dating a white witch.

There was a knock at your door as you moved the roast from the pan to the serving plate. Carrying it to the dining table you called, “Use your key, you dork.”

When there was no answer you put down the roast and went to the door. “Dammit, Sam...”

As soon as the door was unlocked it was shoved open sending you flying across the room.  You had the impression of grey, rough textured skin as whatever it was tried to come into your apartment but was stopped by the wards on the door.  You pushed through the pain of hitting the wall and began chanting a banishing spell, causing whatever was at the door to roar loud enough to split your eardrums.  You kept chanting in spite of the ringing in your ears as the monster continued to try and cross your threshold.  You could feel the pressure on the warding spell as the grey skinned thing tried to come in.  

The pressure disappeared suddenly and you opened your eyes to discover the monster was distracted by something out of your view.  Its face contorted in a way you couldn’t read just before it vanished in a cloud of smoke.  You readied a fireball spell as two tall figures came through the smoke but let it die as they came into view revealing Sam and a brown haired man with green eyes who must have been Dean.  You could tell he was angry even without being able to hear what he was saying; anyone with eyes would be able to see that.  You saw Sam’s lips move as annoyance replaced concern for a moment and assumed he was snapping at Dean as he kneeled next to you. You reached out and grabbed his chin, turning him so you could see his face.

“I can’t hear you, so look at me when you’re talking, Sam,” you yelled. Sam nodded, raising one hand to the side of your head and brushing along your ear.  You didn’t see any blood on his fingers as he pulled it back and breathed out a soft sigh of relief.  You watched his lips as he spoke to you.

“Are your ears ringing,” he asked. “Any headache or anything?

“My ears are ringing, but no headache,” you replied.

Another hand touched your shoulder and you turned to find Dean looking at you.  He was still angry but there was some concern there too. “You want to go to the hospital?”

You shook your head. “I want to eat, then you can explain to me what the fuck that thing was.”

You knew the boys didn’t get home cooked meals very often so it was no surprise that dinner passed with minimal conversation.  Also no surprise was that there weren't many leftovers.  The ringing in your ears lowered as dinner progressed and by the time Sam told you he and Dean would clean up you could just barely hear him over it.  You nodded and headed for the shower.

Half an hour later you returned to the kitchen to find Dean putting the remaining leftovers in the fridge as Sam closed the dishwasher and started it up.  A smile tugged at your lip as you contemplated the much improved scenery of your apartment. Although neither man turned to face you, you knew they were aware you were watching them. Sam finished what he was doing first and turned to you with a smile that showed his dimples and made your heart skip a beat.  He walked over and took you in his arms giving you a quick, but deep kiss just as Dean turned from the fridge.  The shock rolling off Dean was palatable, but not nearly as great as yours.  Sure, you and Sam had had sex, but this felt different almost like Sam was staking a claim on you.  You figured it was stupid alpha male bullshit between him and his brother and let it pass.

You poured yourself a shot of Baileys over ice and grabbed two beers before leading the way to your airy living room.  You tucked yourself into a corner of the couch; Sam dropped next to you while Dean took the recliner.  After taking a sip of your drink you looked at them.

“So I’m guessing this isn’t a social call,” you stated.  You voice was muffled to you, like you were hearing under water but at least you’d stopped yelling.

Dean flashed you a tight smile. “What was your first clue?”

You shrugged, returning his grin. “Maybe that…”

“Rock demon,” Sam supplied.

You poked him in the hip with your foot for interrupting you, “I’m gonna guess that’s why you're here.”

        Sam nodded and handed you a book, “We found the banishing spell, but it’s kind of complex.  I didn’t want to try it on my own.”

        “It can be taught,” you muttered taking the book from him.  

        Dean sputtered out a laugh almost choking on his beer as you looked the spell over. Complex didn’t even begin to cover it.  The diagram alone was going to take hours to draw and it used sigils that you’d never seen before.  And to top all that off it had to be done a night with no moon, two days from now.  You arched your eyebrow as you looked up from the journal.

“Y’all don’t want a lot do you,” you groused at them.

“Look, if you don’t want to help us just say so, princess,” Dean almost growled.

Yep, definitely alpha male bullshit going on here. “Look, Winchester, just because you don’t like witches don’t give you the right to act like an asshole.”

This time Dean did spit out his beer as Sam smirked at you.  Your next words wiped that look off his face.  “And you can knock off the passive aggressive, macho bullshit.  Both of you can take your cute asses out of here and I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early.”

As you headed for your bedroom you called back over your shoulder, “Lock the door behind you and you’d better have an apology ready if you want my help.”

At precisely nine in the morning you opened the store.  The first person through the front door was Sam, carrying a tray with coffee cups and a bag from the bakery a block away.  He gave you one of his dimpled smiles as he handed you the bag.

“My apology for last night,” he said. “Dean and I were rude and it was inexcusable.”

You snagged the bag from him and opened it up; inside was a chocolate covered eclair with chocolate chips on top.  You closed your eyes and took a bite discovering that it was filled with chocolate buttercream.   An almost pornographic moan escaped as you licked stray frosting off your lip. “For that I would forgive you almost anything, Sam.”

His smile grew wider as he leaned forward onto the counter. “So I’m forgiven.”

Once again you were trapped by those damn eyes of his; all you could was nod mutely as he leaned closer.  Your breath caught in your throat when he paused just inches away from your lips as if waiting for some sign from you that this was all right with you. Licking your lips, you leaned forward slightly and your eyes drifted closed…

That’s when the bell over the door sounded.  Both of you jerked back like you’d been burned, eyes shooting to the door.  Dean came in carrying a bouquet of roses and carnations.  He walked over to the counter and handed them to you.  “To make up for last night.”

You buried your face in the flowers to hide your disappointment at his timing.  Putting the flowers in a vase you kept under the counter, if he’d only taken five more minutes to get here.  You pulled out the book from last night and motioned both the Winchesters to the table you used for tarot readings.  Opening the book, you went over the ritual with them and then the things that you already had in the store.

“I know where’s there’s some consecrated ground a few miles outside of town that we can use,” you finished. “There are just a few things I need to get.”

“Anything we can help with,” Sam asked.

“I’m going to need chicken blood, salt, five candles and a bottle of vodka,” you replied with a smile.

Dean blinked in surprise. “Vodka for the spell?”

You rubbed your hands up and down your face, then sighed, “No, that’s for me to feel better about what we’re about to do.”

Dean laughed at that, “What about all the candles you’ve got here?”

“Dean, half my customers couldn’t magic their way out of a wet paper bag,” you told him.  “But I spell every candle that comes in here so nobody can accidentally do what we’re going to do deliberately, summon a demon.”

At that moment one of the customers I was thinking about entered the store.  I let out a sigh and motioned the boys towards the back exit with my chin.  Then I plastered on my best customer service smile and went to see how many crystals Norma wanted today.

It was midnight and moon dark.  With a nod at Sam and Dean standing inside protective circles worked into the demon circle you’d spent the day drawing, you drew a deep breath, with a gesture that lit the candles you began chanting, “Et vocavi vos daemonium de petra. Terrorem Sumeria te voco. Et vocavi vos me et Romam reuerterunt.”

On the first pass the light breeze that had blowing stilled in the warded clearing.  By the fourth pass a new wind was blowing; hot and scented with brimstone it tugged at your hair and clothes.  At the end of the seventh time through the mist in the middle of the diagram solidified into the thing that had tried to get through your wards two days before.

The demon looked at you with literal fire in its eyes, charging with outstretched arms.  It looked  surprised as it ran up against the edge of the circle that held it trapped.  You raised your arms and began the first of seven repeats of the banishing spell. “Et vocavi vos daemonium de petra. Terrorem Sumeria te voco. Et vocavi vos me et Romam reuerterunt.”

After the first chant, the demon tried to charge Sam, who stood his ground with complete trust in your abilities.  As you continued chanting, it clawed at the invisible wall holding it in place.  It tried to go after Dean, but while he didn’t have Sam’s faith in you, he had faced down things just as bad or worse and didn’t even flinch.  As you started the last chant the demon faced you again, the fire in its eyes now dying but growling dangerously.  As you finished the last of the Latin words you moved your arms in front of you palms out and shouted, “Ut ego illum, sic fiat semper!”

White energy shot from your palms hitting the demon square in its chest and it exploded in a shower of gravel that was contained by the glowing lines of the wards.  Your legs buckled under you as the white glow died, the last thing you saw was Sam coming towards you before your eyes closed.

A cool cloth against the back of your neck woke you; you were lying on your stomach in your own room judging by the smell of lavender and roses.  With a groan you tried to roll over, only to be stopped by a pair of strong hands.

“Let me help,” Sam’s voice was tight with worry. “You’ve been out for a couple of days.”

He rolled you gently and you felt something plastic press against your lip.  You opened your mouth and the taste of cherry Gatorade filled it.  You gulped at it greedily, whining just a bit as Sam pulled the bottle away from you, making grabby hands as your eyes opened and you tried to get hold of it.  Sam laughed softly drawing your attention to his face as he put the bottle just out of your reach.

You frowned as you looked at him; there were dark circles under his eyes, his hair lay flat against his head and there were worry lines on his forehead that disappeared when he saw you watching him.  He smiled tiredly at you and brushed your hair back off your face.  “How are you feeling?”

“Like I can take care of myself for half an hour while you go take a shower,” you said trying to sound stern.  The fact that your voice was a little raspy with sleep probably didn’t help, but the glare you turned on him did.  He held up his hands with a laugh, putting the bottle within reach before heading for the bathroom.

You sipped at the Gatorade slowly, having learned the hard way what happened when you tried to drink too much, too fast after using so much energy.  You still had half a bottle left when Sam returned in a grey v-neck shirt and dark sleep pants hanging low on his hips.  He sat on the edge of the bed and covered your free hand with one of his.

“You going to be all right,” he asked in a soft, tired voice.  When you nodded he stood up. “I’m going to take a nap on the couch, then I’ll call Dean to come get me.”

You felt your face go slack as you watched him head towards the door.  He was turning the handle before you found your voice. “Why?”

He turned and you read the question in his eyes.  You answered him with him having to ask, “There’s room in this bed, Sam. And...I don’t want to be alone.”

Sam smiled and came back to the bed.  You moved over to make room for him and lifted the blankets.  He climbed and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him.  With a contented sigh, you nuzzled against his neck and your arm went around his waist.  He turned his head, placing a gentle kiss on your hair.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered so softly you almost didn’t hear him.

You smiled and gave a quick squeeze. “I’m tougher than I look.  You know that.”

He held you tighter and you could hear the residual fear in his voice when he spoke again, “You wouldn’t wake up, I tried every trick you ever showed me.  I thought…”

You put a finger on his lips and boosted yourself up to look him in the eye. “You won’t ever lose me, Sam. I can take care of myself and I’ll be here as long as you want me too.”

His only answer was to pull you on top of him so your legs were on either side of his muscular body. ��One hand buried was buried in your hair pulling you down for a long, deep kiss.  When he released you, he rolled so you were both on your sides facing each other.

“I’ll always want you here, baby.  But you know-” he began.

“You can’t make any promises,” you finished for him.  “I knew that going into, whatever this is.”

He pulled you close again, tucking you under his chin.  “Go to sleep, Y/N.  We’ll talk more when we’ve both rested.”

Wrapped in his strong arms with the sound of his heartbeat under your ear it didn’t take long for you to drift off.  Just before you did you felt Sam’s breathing even out and heard a soft snore from above you.  

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[onceabluemoonwrites]

Elven Oath

Fandom: Yuri on Ice

Summary:  The first time Minami sees the Spring God, he is decidedly unimpressed. But with every step Yuuri takes, flowers bloom, and slowly, slowly, awe begins to spill from Minami’s soul until he is a flowing river of happiness, ooh-ing and aah-ing over each newborn flower. Lohengrin, Minami wants to belong to Yuuri’s court.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Yuri on Ice

FF.net | AO3 | Tumblr   (my other entries: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7)

You can find my writing progress here.  If you can’t keep straight who’s what anymore, here’s a list, plus some extra background information for those who’d like to read it!

My fic master list here.

This was written for the Yuri on Ice Fantasy week ( @yoifantasyweek for those interested in checking out the other authors) 11/14/17- yoifantasyweek Day Two: Yellow. I used all three prompts: ‘’Elf’’, ‘’Sunflower,’’ and ‘’’Happiness’’. 

This is part of the Land of Gods and Monsters ‘verse, but can be read as a standalone fic.  You can find a note on the chronology of this ‘verse here.

Sunbeams trail over the forest floor, dew drops gleaming in the first light of day. Flowers curl open, petals unfurling.

Minami rolls out of his comfortable flower cradle, opens his eyes mid-flight and screams.

No, not the usual ‘’Goodmoooooooooooooorning!’’ – indeed, what leaves his mouth is a terrified scream of the likes you’ve scarcely heard. 

Ouch. Dust-speckled and limbs aching, Minami picks himself up and comes face to face with- a foot?

Big folk dancing in the Fairy Meadow? Minami clenches his teeth.

He shakes a fist at it, craning his neck to see more. ‘’Hey, bigfoot! I oughta teach you a lesson!’’

The foot disappears behind two knees carefully lowered to the ground. It results in a thwack hard enough to make Minami stumble, and oh, by Lohengrin! The God’s face is so close! Minami eyes him nervously. He’s the size of the giant’s nose, and he has never wished more he wasn’t an elf anymore!  Oh, if he hadn’t been so foolish and chosen a court already, he could’ve fled from this enormous God with his monstrously big mouth!

But Minami has no wings, so this is it. He swallows, heart pounding. ‘’I’m not afraid of you!’’ He squeaks, jabbing a finger toward the eye, jumping up and down.

‘’I apologize,’’ The vibrations knock Minami off his feet.

He bristles. ‘’You’re gonna have to do better than that, buddy!’’ He sizes him up, jumping from one leg to the other, fists raised. ‘’Come at me, bro!’’

Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have imitated the Fairy Queen, but this God is clearly out of line and Minami is putting him back in his place! Atta, boy!

The God flinches, drawing back a few meters- considerable length for someone who is only five centimetres tall. ‘’Hah, saving your own skin!’’

The God blinks. ‘’I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Yuuri, the Spring God. I came to pay my respects to Mila.’’

Minami’s mouth drops. ‘’You’re the one she’s always going on about?’’ Yuuri turns beet red. Minami flails. ‘’You’re not nearly cool enough to have my Fairy Queen in your court!’’

Yuuri’s eyes widen. ‘’No, no, no! Mila’s part of my mother’s court!’’

‘’Then you’re an imposter!’’

‘’No, I’m not!’’

‘’Yes, you are! And even if you were who you say you are, you’d still be my rival!’’

‘’What?!’’

Minami crosses his arms as the God splutters. This, the Spring God? Ha!

They’ll see about that!

‘’How dare you return here, you fiend! I shall slay you!’’ Minami growls.

Yuuri takes one look at him, gasps and flees.

…Towards the main village, but that’s not the point.

His grass halm armour totally scared his rival!

‘’Kenjirou, what did you do now?’’

Minami looks up from his berry staple. ‘’Mila! I expelled the imposter with my fearsome growl!’’

His Queen blinks and bursts out in laughter. ‘’He was worried about you because of your hornbill cry.’’

‘’My lion roar!’’ Minami stomps his foot.

She pats him on the head, wiping away a tear. ‘’Yes, yes, hold on to your dreams, little elf.’’

His shoulders hunch as she flies away. ‘’This is all your fault, stupid Yuuri. I’ll get you, just you wait!’’

Pelting berries at the God is great stress relief, even if it doesn’t accomplish anything. But then again, the red stains will be a pain to wash out! 

Minami grins. He’s a great rival!

Yuuri comes by once a week and Minami’s getting tired.

Lying on the edge of his flower cradle, he eyes the God as he tip-toes past as not to disturb the other elves.

Hey- that’s funny!

Minami gets onto his hands and knees and leans over the yellow petals. There! Where Yuuri’s feet touch the ground, flowers sprout!

Clambering down the stem, he runs towards the footprints.

Bluebells, daffodils, even a few dahlias! Minami gasps in delight. There are even sunflowers! Dancing around the footprint flowers, he cheers. He has the best eternal rival ever!

He stops dead in his tracks, nose to nose with the place where blue flowers must’ve peeked out between Yuuri’s toes, the first to be born.

Yuuri is his eternal rival. He isn’t supposed to be cool.

What now?

‘’Why don’t you play with me anymore?’’ a voice comes from above.

Minami crosses his arms. ‘’I didn’t play with you! We fought!’’

‘’Oh…’’  

…Why does Yuuri’s wince make him feel so guilty? Minami chews on the inside of his cheek.

Sunflowers wave in the wind above his flower cradle, and it’s like their colours are tattoed on the inside of his eyes. Even when he sleeps he gets no rest. Is this what wretchedness feels like?

It tastes like bile in his mouth.

Minami tries hard, but with every step Yuuri takes, flowers bloom, and slowly, slowly, awe begins to spill from Minami’s soul until he is a flowing river of happiness, ooh-ing and aah-ing over each newborn flower.

No God’s gonna make a fool out of him, but Lohengrin, Minami wants to belong to Yuuri’s court. His heart screams: Take me, I’m the best elf they’ve got! 

…But surely Yuuri has gotten offers before. What if his fairies don’t like him? What if Yuuri doesn’t like Minami?!

Minami’s pretty sure he botched that up early in the game. He swallows and stands up with dread-filled legs. No- stop with the heavy boots. He could do this! He can… He can!

‘’HEY, YOU!’’

Okay, not the best opening, but Minami once said: ‘’Is that a wart or a whisker?’’ to a kitsune and survived, so this is definitely an improvement.

Yuuri blinks. It looks strange, now Minami’s on eye-height. ‘’How did you get up there?’’

Minami puffs his chest out. ‘’I climbed!’’

‘’…How do you plan on getting down?’’

‘’Climb-‘’ Minami sees the depth beneath him, flails and- Yuuri catches him in the palm of his hand.

‘’Careful!’’

Minami pouts. ‘’See, if you’d make me part of your court, you wouldn’t need to rescue me! I’d be able to fly all on my own!’’

‘’What?’’

The elf turns beet red, pushing his fingers together. ‘’Part… of your court.’’  He flaps with his arms. ‘’So I could fly and all! And help you carry out your duties. And look at the sunflowers ‘cause they’re so pretty and…’’

Yuuri’s poppy cheeks are the cutest thing he’s ever seen. Whoever is cooing out there, Minami certainly agrees with them! Wait- there is no one else here. By Ortrud! The elf slaps his hands in front of his mouth, attempting to wrestle the sound back in.

Yuuri bites his lip. ‘’I don’t have a court, but if you’d like to be the first, you can!’’

Minami’s jaw drops. ‘’But… How do people not fall to their knees and beg you to enter your court? I mean, that was my plan B! I had a plan C too, which consisted of crying a lot and telling Mila I was going to be a child forever because I only wanted the coolest God. I’d be Peter Pan, can you imagine?!’’

Yuuri’s flush creeps down his neck. He opens his mouth, but Minami is on a roll and no stop signs are going to halt him. ‘’Wait- you want me as your Fairy Queen?!’’

The Spring God nods. ‘’If you please.’’

‘’Oh, I’m pleased, alright!’’ Minami chirps, patting Yuuri’s thumb. ‘’Lemme get up there and give you a smooch on the forehead!’’

And that he does.

Magic transfers better via skin to skin contact, and there is no greater place to kiss than the third eye. Yuuri smiles as the elf huffs and puffs. Kissing his index finger, he places it carefully on Minami’s forehead.

It tickles- laughter bubbles up in Minami’s throat as the magic rushes through him. It’s a wild river, splashing everywhere, wetting his skin and dripping along his throat and his back, until the water freezes, wing-shaped. Fragile, swan-feathered and red.

‘’They’re so beautiful,’’ the awe is clearly audible.

Minami is an adult now. ‘’Yahoooooooooooo!’’ He shoots up into the air, buzzing in circles around Yuuri’s head. ‘’Yuuri, look! I’m a fairy! A real fairy!’’

Yuuri laughs, voice vibrating through the air, but Minami stays where he is, wings easily steering against the current. ‘’A real Fairy Queen!’’

Minami slaps his cheeks, kicking in the air. ‘’Oh, I’m gonna leave the village! I’m the first part of your court! Waaaaaaah! Mila’s not gonna believe it! Ha! Sara’s not gonna believe it! I’m a Fairy Queen, Yuuri, your Fairy Queen!’’

‘’The best one a God could have.’’

Minami will die from Yuuri’s awesome levels one of these days! But first… First, he has a court to make!

Author’s Note

Minami is a precious cinnamon roll, protect him. 

The songs I listened to while writing this:

Minami’s music box.

Lohengrin prelude.

The outcry ‘’Lohengrin!’’ must’ve been pretty obvious, but ‘’Ortrud’’ is the antagonist from the same opera. For those not familiar with the opera, Minami’s wings being ‘’swan-feathered’’ is also a reference. At the end of the opera, the swan that was constantly present turned out to be a cursed man. In this case it is no curse, but I thought it’d be fun to keep a bit of a theme! *grins*

[revwinchester]

Fanboy

Summary: Dean likes to use Sam’s computer late into the night.  One morning, Sam stumbles upon something he never expected to see from Dean.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester; Becky (mentioned)

Word Count: 1454

Warnings: Some cursing, brotherly teasing, mention (but no depiction) of Wincest, bi Dean (or, at least, Dean exploring his sexuality)

A/N: I’ve been working on this for a while and what better day to finally put it out there than on Fanfic Author Appreciation Day!  No ship here and also no ship hate intended, I went with the canonical reaction to one of the fandom’s major ships.

This is dedicated to all the fangirls, fanboys, and fanpersons out there <3

Fanboy -

Sam pulled his laptop across the table from where Dean had been using it the night before.  He braced himself before he opened the computer; he’d been greeted by Dean’s porn more than once in the past.  Sam wasn’t against porn - not in the slightest - but he and his brother had very different tastes and, besides, 7:00 AM was far too early for X-rated videos, Sam thought (though he figured Dean would probably disagree).

Sam popped open the laptop and peeked at the screen.  It was, thankfully, just his mostly blank desktop wallpaper.  He still ran the daily virus check since he knew Dean had been up late using the computer.  He started the program and then made his way to the kitchen for some coffee and breakfast.

When Sam finished his cereal, he refilled his mug and went back to the library prepared to remove whatever viruses Dean had inadvertently downloaded onto Sam’s computer the night before.  Surprisingly, when he sat down at the table, his laptop had been declared clean.  Sam was shocked as he clicked the program closed and hovered the mouse over the icon for the internet.  

Just before he clicked, Sam noticed a new folder on the desktop simply labeled “Research.”  He knew that he hadn’t created it, so Dean must have.  Sam opened the folder and found that it held 2 more folders, one called “In Progress” and the other “Complete.”  It was weird for Dean to be researching, especially when they didn’t have a case, and practically unheard of him to be this organized about it.  Sam clicked on the “In Progress” folder, expecting it to be empty but was surprised once again to find three documents there.

Sam opened one of the files, frustrated that Dean was working cases not just without him but behind his back; he had thought they were beyond that.  He quickly skimmed through the document, not absorbing much, just that this case seemed to be centered in a hospital and, for some reason,some of the names sounded familiar.  Sam didn’t see anything evidence of this being their kind of thing by skimming and that made him feel better. Dean was probably just checking things out and would have shared with Sam if something had come out of it.  Probably.

Mostly mollified but still curious, Sam opened another of the files.  Again, this seemed to be set in a hospital.  Sam read a bit more carefully this time.  The case was out in Seattle but Dean seemed to have more information than he could have gleaned from the news or police reports - patient diagnosis and medications and the like.  It wasn’t until Sam came across a very familiar name that he stopped and truly read what was in the document.

‘Everyone turned when the elevator opened and watched the man step onto the floor.  Every click of Dr. Sexy’s boots rang out down the hallway as he approached the patient’s door.’

What?

What had Sam just read?  What was this?  He returned to the top of the page and began reading in earnest.  What followed was a tawdry story set in Seattle Mercy Hospital.  Dr. Sexy was making out with just about everyone - doctors, nurses, and even a male patient who was suspiciously described as having “perfectly styled sandy brown hair and shocking green eyes.”  The make and model of the patient’s car was even worked into the narrative, somehow - a 1967 Chevy Impala.

“Not a fan, my ass,” Sam muttered.

Sam had stumbled across Dean’s fanfiction.  He wasn’t sure how he’d missed it before but he was glad to have the ammunition against his brother now.  Better late than never, he thought.  And, from the looks of the “Complete” folder, Sam was finding this information quite late.

For all the crap Dean had given the Supernatural fanfiction writers, here he was doing the same thing with the characters of Dr. Sexy.  Granted, they weren’t actual people and Dean wasn’t writing any ...relations between family members.  Sam knew better than anyone that he and Dean were closer than the average brothers and they often found themselves in emotionally charged situations…

Sam steered his thoughts away from what Becky had shared was called “Wincest” and back to the information in front of him, deciding how best to use this new knowledge about how his brother spent his free time.

He didn’t have long to plan.  Sam skimmed through a few more of Dean’s stories to gather as much ammo as he could before his brother joined him in the library.  Not much later, Sam heard his brother padding towards the kitchen and making a new pot of coffee.  Soon enough, Dean was sitting across from him.

“Find any cases this morning?” the older hunter grunted.

“Uh, no.  I noticed that you were looking into some things last night, though.”  Sam replied as innocently as he could.  

Dean looked at his brother like he had two heads.  “Huh?”

Sam snorted, Dean really had a way with words in the morning.  “I saw your ‘Research’ folder on my computer.  Find anything good?” the younger hunter asked.

“My what?” Dean asked, the coffee clearly not making its way to his brain yet.  

“You’ve got a folder on my computer.  It’s labeled ‘Research.’  I found it.”

Dean’s eyes widened before he schooled his face into a neutral expression.  It was less than an instant and Sam wouldn’t have even noticed it if he didn’t know his brother so well.  “Did, uh, did you find anything interesting in there?” Dean asked, trying to cover and clearly hoping that his brother hadn’t explored the folder too deeply.

Sam shrugged.  “I skimmed a few things, nothing really jumped out as our kind of thing, though,” he replied and he watched as Dean relaxed a little in his seat.  “Should we be driving out to Seattle to check anything out though?  Something caught your eye about that hospital.”

“No, no,” Dean said, rubbing at his face.  “There’s nothing out there.  Thought there might be but I did a little research and it all seems really normal.  That’s why I didn’t tell you about it.”

Sam laughed to himself, enjoying Dean’s reactions and attempts to cover his activities.  “I mean, we’ve gone places on less, Dean,” he told his brother.  “If you think there might be something happening in Seattle, I say we make the trip.”  Sam started to get up and head toward his room, taking his computer with him.  “I’m going to throw a few things in a bag.  Seattle is, what, two days of driving? One if we take turns sleeping?”

It was clear that Dean was considering it, making a useless trip to the west coast in order to save face and not have to tell Sam about his writing.  He didn’t really want to drive all the way to Seattle for a joke so Sam pressed on.  “Even if the hospital is clean, there’s bound to be something happening out that way.  Maybe there’s a vampire family and a werewolf pack at odds with each other...”

Dean just looked confused, now.  “That’s… that’s the plot of Twilight.  What the hell, Sam?” But after a moment, realization hit him.  “You didn’t just skim the documents, did you.”  It wasn’t a question and Dean’s voice was suspicious.

Sam shrugged and finally let his laughter spill out.  “Nope!”  

Dean rolled his eyes but it only caused Sam to laugh harder.  “It’s not that big of a deal,” Dean muttered.

“Oh, but it is, Dean,” Sam gasped as he tried to compose himself.  “After the way you treated Becky and all the other Supernatural fans, it really, really is a big deal.  Oh!  Do you post on the message boards, too?  Or, what is it, Tumblr?  What’s your username?”  

Dean stood up and grabbed his mug.  “Let me know when you find a case, ass face,” he huffed.

Sam managed to control his laughter for a minute.  “Dean, no; don’t go.  I’m sorry.  You know it’s cool to be a fan of things these days, right?” he apologized, his voice as sincere as he could make it.  “Do you…” Sam knew his composure was cracking, “do you need someone to read your fanfic for you?  An editor?”

Dean looked like he didn’t trust Sam at all but he responded anyway.  “It’s called a beta, actually and…” Dean started.

The laughter erupted from Sam again.  “Of course it is… You’re such a fanboy!”

“You know what?  I don’t have to take this,” Dean commented, his lips pursed into the pout that Sam knew fangirls dreamed about.  He watched his brother storm off, muttering to himself about needing his own computer.

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