#studying and reading legends is a nice passing time if you are ever bored.

[candyredappledragon]

well!!! maybe dont be mean then!!! that was mean!

and- actually no never mind. at least you cant curse me.. i hope.

Oooooh~ Other meeeee~ I'm going to haaaaaunt youuuuuu~

GAHHHHHH!!!!111!! ARCEUS HELP MEEEE. WHO TOLD YOU IM HERE, OTHER KIERAN. AND A GHOST TOO!!!???!11??

DONT HAUNT ME PLEASE!!! WHAT DID I DO WROOONG

[inky-cap13]

Something Wicked This Way Comes: A Legend of Zelda Fanfic

The fic is here! and it fought me tooth and nail. a good chunk of this was written months ago and I don't like how it's written now, so I'm gonna call this the first draft and rewrite it based on memory. This specific fic takes place in the Minish cap/ four swords time and includes an original villain character I created. Enjoy my insanity under the readmore!

Zelda once heard a story. 

She’d been young, and curious about the world. One night she’d asked her mother for a story, about those creepy tunnels between the walls. Her mother had sighed, sat on the edge of Zelda’s bed, and told her. 

It went like this:

Long ago, there was a beast that terrorized the lands of Hyrule. It was known as the Puppeteer, and it controlled an army of horrible and demonic creatures as its puppets. The creature only stopped its reign of terror when the Goddess-blooded princess figured out that it would only stop if it was sealed away from the light entirely. She chased it beneath the ancient castle, sealing it away in the deepest reaches of the catacombs, never to see its way out to the land again. 

It sleeps. It seethes in its sleep, knowing it will get out one day, when the magic keeping it captive runs weak. It seeks revenge, revenge against the one who sealed it there to rot. It will break the seal. It wants out. 

After all, you know what they say. 

“Something wicked this way comes.”  

-

Zelda watches yet another bird fly by the window. She can’t tell if Link keeps dropping by to entertain her or if the birds just like going that way around the castle towers. She’s so bored, only ever looking at her teacher in order to fool him into thinking she’s paying attention to the repetition of a lesson she learned and mastered when she was twelve. 

She was just about to turn back to the window when there was a knock at the door. A page walked in, nervous and unsure of what to do in the presence of a princess bored out of her skull. He passed a piece of paper to the teacher and scurried out of the room. 

The teacher opened the paper. 

“You’ve been summoned by the King. It seems urgent.” 

Zelda was more than happy to leave, easily sliding out of her chair and out the door. 

It was a nice summer’s day, a few weeks before Din’s Festival began and pleasant enough that the windows of the palace were open. She felt the summer breeze drift in through the open window, along with the sounds of daily life in Castle Town. 

She arrived at her father’s study, where the King himself was knee- deep in paperwork for the kingdom. She waited patiently for him to finish reading the latest piece of paper, enjoying the summer breeze coming in from a nearby window. 

Father sighed as he set the paper down, looking far older than he normally does. He turned to her.

“Zelda, as you know, Din’s Festival is coming up, upon the summer solstice. The festival has an address and a role for you to play in the festivities, but I believe that you aren’t quite ready to fill that role.” 

Zelda couldn’t believe it. After everything that has happened to her since she had been only eleven, and she wasn’t ready? Bull. Shit. 

“The role of the Goddess Hylia is normally played by the princess once she reaches a suitable age, but you aren’t at that age.”

For Hylia’s sake she’s seventeen. 

“Maybe next year you’ll be able to play the part of the Goddess. I’m sorry.”

With that, he dismissed her and turned back to his work. 

_

Zelda was irate. Not of suitable age, her ass. She’s seen more bullshit in her entire stay at the tower of the wind than he’s seen in over a decade. Hell, she saw more of the world while she was a stone statue than any king has seen in the last two hundred years. Why should she prove herself only to get pushed aside-

A squeak ricocheted down the long hall. 

She paused in her tirade, listening. 

Another, closer. 

She looked down, careful to watch where her feet were in case she stepped on it, mouse or otherwise. 

A squeak came from her left, and she looked down to see a small, mouselike shape on the ground. She crouched carefully, bowing her head to try and see it better. Small, colorful streaks in a feathery tail, a distinctive cap…

“Link?”

He squeaked an affirmative. She cupped her hands and carefully let him climb onto them. He hooked tiny claws into her sleeves and began to climb up her arm to her shoulder, careful not to fall as she stood up. He grabbed onto a lock of her hair to anchor himself. 

“You heard him, correct?” 

A squeak. 

“He has been more like this, even though I have been ready to do things like this since I was fifteen.”

Another squeak. This was getting old. 

“We should get to a place you can change back. I need words, not squeaks.”

A rapid series of squeaks followed, and Zelda felt Link stamping his foot on her shoulder. 

“I can let you walk, you know.”

The squeaks stopped, but she knew he was still a bit upset, and his eyes were that dark blue color he liked so much. 

She arrived at the main gates, and strode through accompanied by a bit of illusion magic that made it look like she was a servant instead of the princess. She loved that spell. 

She hurried through the market, softly giggling along to the muffled squeaks she heard. Finally, she arrived at the city gates, and beyond was the patch of trees that she liked to sneak out to. She slipped into the bushes, and came out into the clearing in the center, just far enough in the woods that they were out of earshot from the main road. Link hopped down from her shoulder and scurried to the hollow log that helped him transform. He stood before her in no time, though the curse of the minish made him stay permanently the height of a child. 

“Your dad’s an old coot.” He said instantly, and his eyes were bright red. 

She smothered giggles. That was another thing about Link, he blurted things without warning sometimes. Of course, she did know about his colors, and the fact that they showed in his hair didn’t help his case sometimes. He was an odd case, and had a reputation for going silent one moment and yelling the next. 

Of course, most people also inadvertently insulted him by commenting about his appearance, so she hardly put the blame on him. 

“I’m serious!  He’s never let you do anything unless it’s for your emergency duties or working with the sages! He’s gotta let you do something other than sit in that stuffy castle all day!”

Yeah. He didn’t really like her father’s parenting methods. Obviously he respected the King, it was practically required, but the ways Link ranted about how she needed more freedom made his point all the more evident. 

She hated staying in that castle too, and rarely got to slip away from the endless busy work she was assigned. There was a reason she liked the illusion spells she’d learned. 

“I know,” She sighed, “And he is probably not going to let me do anything even if I am old enough to do my duties. I just- I wish he would see that I am perfectly capable of taking over my rightful duties as princess.” 

Link knew as much, and he knew she hated being forced so high above the citizens of Hyrule she was supposed to rule when the king stepped down or died. She’d been the focus of two separate adventures, where she’d been turned to stone or kidnapped by the wind mage Vaati and the dark spirit Ganon. Zelda had been helpless to do anything but watch from her tower or her spot in the castle courtyard, turned to stone. She had wanted to be down there with him, warning and helping to fight off the evil beings sent to stop him from completing his quest. 

She had been taught to wield weapons in the back yard of the blacksmith’s shop, and was decent with a shortsword and bow. She could fight if she needed, and she rarely did. That didn’t stop the itching in her hands when she was upset or when she just needed somewhere to go and blow off some steam. The blacksmith’s yard was one of her favorite places to be when she snuck out, and she was getting better with the various stock weapons that were to be melted and re-forged if they weren’t sold in time for new ones to be made. 

Smith’s yard was littered with such weapons when the two got there, and she picked her way towards the back door where she knew there were training clothes waiting for her. She’d trained there enough to know where everything was, and considered Smith a grandfather to her. 

Zelda could hear him in the front, speaking with a customer about something. She made sure to be quiet as she went up the stairs and down the hall to the ‘guest’ room she’d claimed as hers long ago. Her training clothes were neatly folded on the bed, they’d done the laundry while she’d been gone. She got dressed quickly, donning the green tunic and trousers that matched Link’s old tunic. She picked her bow and quiver from the corner and did her hair up in a messy bun. The spell on the old pin made her face unrecognizable as the princess, and only a simple pretty smith’s daughter otherwise. At least, that was the cover story if anyone asked. Just a smith’s daughter, who lived with her mother in castle town sometimes. 

She stepped out of her room to see Link impatient by the stairs. She followed him down to the yard, where the targets and training dummies were already set up. She got to work, hitting target after target with arrows trained for the bull’s eye. She was sure in her movements, having trained since she was twelve and rebellious against her father enough to agree to it. 

When the targets were filled with arrows, she turned to training with the throwing knives she’d gotten for her sixteenth birthday from Link. She was less proficient with them, and she wanted the same level as the bow. She still hit the targets painted on the slats of wood, but they weren’t very well thrown or hit the bull’s eye. She trained until the sun was nearly set, and hurried to re-dress herself and get back to the castle before dark. She knew she’d be in trouble if she disappeared for too long without an explanation, and she didn’t want to be trailed by a castle guard again. 

Link was bad enough without the presence of another guard. 

She snuck back in as the sun set, and was back in the castle’s halls before she knew it. She was approached by a page, the same as the one who had come into her study earlier. He escorted her back to her chambers, where she bathed early for the night, and dressed in an evening gown for dinner. She sat at her mirror and brushed her hair, contemplating her hairstyle for the evening. 

A soft knock came from her door, and she called for them to come in. Her father entered, shutting the door behind him. He stood by her bed as she set her brush down. 

“Zelda,” He began, “ I am sorry for my dismissal earlier. I know I was short with you, and I was not thinking correctly while addressing you as my daughter.” 

She nearly said something, but forgot it when he spoke again. 

“I still believe that you are not of age to take over your duties as princess-” 

 Enough. 

She stood abruptly, and snapped, “I know!  I know you do not want me to become the princess of Hyrule yet!  Damn it all, I am ready to take over!  You have done this since I was fifteen and ready to take my duties as overseer to the sages!  I have been taught the same things over and over since I was eleven, and you have not truly thought of me in ten. YEARS. I wish I could have seen what made you hold me in place for so long I cannot write a word without it being reported to you by a guard!  I have had ENOUGH of your stupid rules that became obsolete years ago! Let me use all this useless knowledge for something other than a test that never means anything other than wasted paper and time!” 

Her father tried to speak as she stopped to take ragged breaths. 

“Zelda, I-”

“No! No, you will not protest, because you know I am right.” 

“Zelda-”

“Get out!”

“ZELDA!”

He roared with all his might as king. She didn’t shrink as he seemed to grow beyond his skin, blocking half the room. 

“Zelda Donna Bell Hyrule the Fifth, you will not disobey me. You are not ready to take on your duties yet, and I will see to it that you stop that sneaking out habit you have grown over the years. No more!” 

With that, he stormed out. 

She had enough. Zelda started packing her things as soon as he was out of her quarters, ensuring that she had supplies to last her a few days of travel if need be. She pulled her spare maid’s tunic-dress and trousers out from the loose floorboard beneath her bed and got re-dressed in it. The less magic used, the better. Good thing she brought the pin that made her the smith’s daughter instead of the princess. 

The halls were quiet as she left, using as much of her knowledge as she could to avoid the castle guards and the servants that wandered the halls. She left by the side gate of the castle, and exited Castle Town through the east gate, going around to the cove of trees she was earlier. She knew the way to the smith’s by heart, and easily slipped in the back door. She could hear dinner being made in the kitchen, and set her bag down by the door. 

All sound from the kitchen stopped as Link’s head popped around the corner. His eyes were forest-green. 

“Zelda?”

_

The uproar in castle town was heard for miles in every direction. The Princess, missing! How awful, she must’ve been kidnapped!  There’s nowhere she could have gone alone, right? 

Dot smiled when she heard of it, and faked sympathy to the princess, yes, she must be in such distress, I hope she gets home safe. 

She’d been staying at Smith's for a few weeks now, training the days away and helping in the shop. If asked, she’d say her mother had taken a job elsewhere and she had wanted to stay with him instead. It helped, to have no one owe her for her very presence in the room. It was nice in a way she hadn’t had since she could remember. 

Link was such a big help in getting her settled for a while. He knew better than to ask when she’d be going back, but he was alway asking why. Why she’d left in the first place, and why she’d left so close to Din’s Festival, when she’d be needed day- of? 

She declined to answer, knowing she’d spill soon enough. She always did. 

And spill she did, one summer evening the day before Din’s Festival was set to start. She sat on the thatched roof, Link sprawled out beside her. The stars were out, and a half-moon stared at them from behind wispy clouds. All was quiet save for the sounds of nighttime, cicadas and crickets and frogs making a cacophony of noise. Dot sighed, bringing her knees to her chest. 

“Dot?”

“Yeah?”

“Why?” Why did you leave? 

“We fought. Father and I. He still thinks I am the little kid I was before Mother died. He tried to apologise, and messed it up with formalities like always. I- I snapped at him, and told him what I had been thinking. He tried to forbid me from leaving the castle. I left before he realized I would leave and, and not come back.” 

There was that summer silence again, now heavy on their shoulders. 

No one spoke when they went in for the night. 

_

Din’s Festival was grand as usual, red and gold banners strung up along every available space and lanterns hung from windows and doors. Everyone was dressed in their festival clothes, and the streets were a sea of reds and golds of every shade. Stalls sold midsummer fruits and hawkers strode back and forth with the latest goods high in their voices. Music was playing somewhere, drums and the distant sound of a flute. 

Dot and Link weaved their way through the crowd, ducking under elbows and around baskets. Dot pulled Link to the side, grabbing two Hydromelon slices from a street vendor and paying with ten rupees she’d grabbed from her pouch. 

They made their way to the large stage in the town square, where there was a play in place of the ceremony taking place in Castle Town. It wouldn’t be done until noon on the fifth day of the Festival but it was where many of the best food and goods stalls were located, and where the most people were. The two found their way onto the roof of a nearby townhouse and ate their food while looking out at the crowd below. 

There were kids running on and off the stage, playing in the wings and daring each other to climb the curtains as the stagehands tried to stop them. The parents of some of the children were nearby, some watching and talking with others. 

Link finished his hydromelon and threw the rind behind the house, landing it on a windowsill in a stroke of luck. He laughed as she tried to do the same, but failed the throw and threw it onto the roof instead. She grabbed the rind and threw it at him instead, making him fall over exaggeratedly and act like he’d been stabbed in an overdramatic fashion. She nearly fell off the roof from laughter, but caught herself at the last second after grabbing onto the roof. They stayed up on the roof as noon approached, talking and watching people come and go. Eventually, one of the heralds walked up on the stage to announce the first day’s proceedings. He bellowed for attention from the crowds and began to speak. 

“Hear Ye, Hear Ye! His Majesty The King Has Decreed The Festival Of Din Officially Open For The Twenty- Fifth Year Of His Lady Hylia’s Blessing Upon His Reign! May He Live Long To Rule!”

A cheer rose up from the crowd beneath the stage, and preparations began for the night’s festivities. Link stood from his place on the roof and began to climb down, leaping from ledge to ledge and finally landing in a heap of clothes from a line he’d gotten tangled in on the way down. Dot laughed and climbed down after him, landing next to him with far more grace than he had. Link untangled himself from the various articles of clothing and stumbled out of the alley after her. 

They made their way down to the stalls again, going slower to watch the festivities happening in the different parts of the town. Mock battles went down in the east part of town, false dragons and monsters of different callings went up against heroes wearing rusted scrap metal and wielding wooden swords. Dancers from all different parts of Hyrule were in the west, accompanied by drums that permeated the whole of the festival proper. In the north, performers from traveling circuses did flips and tricks for dazzled onlookers as hawkers shouted performance times and dates. The south of the town held traveling merchants selling exotic goods from the farthest reaches of Hyrule and beyond. 

They stayed out till nearly midnight, taking part in the festivities until they sleepily stumbled into the side door leading to the living area and collapsed into a heap of sleepy teenager on the couch. They fell asleep like that, too tired to go upstairs and sleep in their beds. 

_

The Castle Town clock tower struck midnight. 

Up above, there was still revelry and drink for the citizens of Hyrule. Dancing feet shook the earth and loud drunken songs rang hard and loud into the warm summer night. 

Down below, it was silent and dark. 

Deep, deep in the catacombs, the seal began to crack. 

_

Dot woke up on the floor. 

She blearily blinked up at the ceiling. She had woken up from something. Something fearful, she could feel her heart racing even as she couldn’t remember what it was. Maybe a nightmare, though those had become rare lately. 

She sat up to see Link halfway off the couch, dragging a blanket down with him. Drool soaked into his hair and trickled down his face. There was a small puddle on the floor. Ew. 

There were small noises coming from the kitchen, likely Smith making breakfast and getting ready for the day. She laid back down, listening to the sounds of a post- festival town waking. The hawkers’ voices were muted in the distance, few and far between with the sounds of voices still quiet and not ready to leave home yet. There were distant sounds of cuccos coming from a neighbor’s house, and one crowed even though it was far too late in the morning. 

She finally got up when Link fully fell off the couch, landing with a thunk and a sleepy grunt. 

The day went by much as it did the day before. Sitting on the roof, this time a shop’s roof, and the banter of seeing who could spit hydromelon seeds the farthest off the roof or who could spot the funniest outfit down below. 

The herald got onto the stage again, only to announce the beginning of the sword-fighting tournaments and the sign-ups for the rest of the day’s events. She scrambled off the roof, Link following behind her. The tournaments were in the east side of the town, farther out in the open fields normally used for cattle and sheep. There were tents pitched to the sides of the field, where there were crowds of people scattered around the entrances to see who got what place and who went next. One of the tents was for sign- ups, where Dot made a beeline to. 

Inside the tent was a myriad of different booklets for sign ups, anything from jousting to log- throwing. She went straight to the archery book, where there was barely room for her to write her name. She shoved her way back to the outskirts of the crowd, ready to jump into a tree and watch from there. She found a certain multicolored boy sitting in the highest branches of the tree she chose, watching the preparations for the first rounds of fighters. 

_

She won her round, hitting the targets dead center every time. Her competitor, a tall man with a rather unwieldy bow, was extremely unsportsmanlike at being beaten by a teenage girl. 

She honestly didn’t enjoy that round. It was too easy. 

The next rounds were harder, but she still easily beat her competitors. All of them were more sportsmanlike than the man before, and she began to enjoy herself more. 

The targets moved this time, two people pulling ropes to move them as she aimed. She took a breath, aim for where it’ll be, and- 

SOMETHING IS WRONG.

She hit the target.

Her competitor did not. 

She walked in a daze to the sidelines. Her mind whirled, what was that resonating in between where did the arrows go and why didn’t I bring a waterskin. 

She hadn’t realized that Link was beside her until he put a hand on her shoulder. He said something, and she couldn’t hear it over her own thoughts and the noise made by the crowd around her. She was dizzy, the world lazily spinning around her but staying still at the same time. 

Dehydration. Great. 

She took the waterskin offered, gulping it down until she was satisfied. She handed it back to Link, who put it back in that weird pouch of his, and stood up to get some shade and rest before her next round. 

She laid down beneath a tree and dozed off. 

_

Something was laughing. It was a dark, knowing laugh, like the ones villains did in storybooks. She couldn’t see anyone, just darkness all around. She was in a stone structure somewhere, leaning against a wall. 

Someone was speaking. 

“Little princess, how foolish you are. You, who sealed me away, shall pay with the destruction of your precious Hyrule, and your little hero will be gone forever should he fail at his task. The dark shall rise again, and banish all who dare to rise against it!”

Someone screamed. 

_ 

Dot awoke with a shout, sitting bolt upright. 

She was still under the tree, with her straw hat on the ground beside her. The crowd was still there, and the competition was on. 

Still, it was strangely muted compared to earlier. 

Maybe it was that strange nightmare. It lingered at the edges of her mind, poking her with its inherent urgency. There was a warning in it somewhere. Something about destruction, and gone forever. She couldn’t really remember anything else. 

“Dot! DOT!”

She jumped nearly out of her skin at the shout from next to her ear. Link stood next to her, grumpy gray-violet-blue staring at her. 

“You’re on soon! C’mon, get up!” 

But first, the competition. She couldn’t let just anyone win, now could she?

_ 

Day three came and went with only the competition winners being announced at noon. Dot won first in the Archery competition, and got 200 rupees and a little intricately carved statue of a bow as a trophy. 

The statue sat on the windowsill in her room, framed by the curtains and the more crudely carved statue of a bird Link had given her when they were younger. 

_

Day four served as a small rest day for the two of them, sleeping in and helping clean the shop while Smith re-forged the old swords. 

Dot sharpened her weapons and some of the other, newly- forged weapons that needed to be put on display. 

There was a sense of foreboding in the air that night. It messed with her dreams, making them nonsensical and just odd. She tossed and turned, only getting tangled in her blankets. 

_

Crack. Crack. 

Crunch. 

_

The play started soon, and there were more people in the square than Dot had ever seen before. People were crowded in windows, doorsteps, and on roofs. 

She and Link had barely managed to get onto a roof before the crowds had begun to climb, and watched from above as the curtains moved with the breeze of people running to and fro backstage. The crowd’s chatter began to dim as the herald stepped onstage. 

“Hear Ye, Hear Ye! The Fifth Day Of The Festival Of Din Has Begun! His Majesty The King Has Given His Address For This Day, The Midsummer’s Zenith Of His Majesty's Lady Hylia’s Blessing Of A Pleasant Growing Season! Long May He Rule!”

The crowd repeated his last words as the herald stepped off the stage to make way for the play. 

The performance was the same as one would expect from a small- town theatre group, but she felt that something was… off. 

One of the actors moved oddly, like something was pulling him along instead of him doing his own actions. As she watched, the other actors began to move the same way, words clumsily tumbling out of their mouths and feet not quite hitting the ground right. 

Something is wrong.

She saw Link out of the corner of her eye, looking just as confused and unsettled as she did. She caught his eye. 

“You see it too?” She hissed. 

“Yeah. What the hell is happening?” 

“Something bad. I think.”

Just as the words left her mouth, the first actor went down. The crowd gasped, more actors collapsing to the ground, looking like puppets with their strings cut. 

SOMETHING IS WRONG. 

Dot leapt to the ground below, barely registering Link doing the same as the last actor collapsed. It was chaos, people yelling and crowding forward to get a better look. Dot barely made it to the wings, dodging around the people there as she swiftly climbed the stage. There were more people on the stage, kneeling beside the actors and calling for doctors and medics. 

SOMETHING IS WRONG.

Dot felt so dizzy suddenly, and she found herself on the ground before she could blink. 

What…

Then there were shouts. Closer, like whoever it was was near. A familiar blonde head appeared in her vision. 

“Dot! Get up, you can’t be on the ground, you’ll be trampled!” 

Trampled?

Link yanked her up, and she got to see the source of the shouting. One of the actors was up, but she was moving strangely like before, and lunging at the person nearest to her. Time seemed to move slower as another and another actor got up and began attacking. 

FOUND YOU. 

Time sped up again, and Dot leapt to the side as an actor lunged at her. The knife she kept in her boot glinted in her hand as another actor leapt at her. Link ducked and dodged in the corner of her vision, leading the actors on his tail to the back of the stage, away from the crowd below. She began to do the same, and led the two on her tail to the back, where Link awaited with a rope. 

Two down, twelve to go. 

Screams erupted from the front. Dot tore open the curtains to see more chaos, people chased by more possessed puppet- people than when she left. 

Someone grabbed her arm, dragging her off the stage and into the crowd below. She couldn’t find anyone she recognised, every face blurred and indistinct in the panic. She fought her way through the crowd, trying to find a way out. She only succeeded in making herself more lost in the crowd, pulled and pushed around by numerous panicked bodies that slowly scattered into different areas of the town. Dot managed to get free for a moment, looking around her for some semblance of an idea on where she was. 

An alleyway stretched in front of her, stone walls on either side. She turned, expecting to see the square behind her, but there was nothing. Only a wall to her back. Silence reigned over the scene, eerie and jarring compared to the pandemonium just before. 

What? 

Something clattered farther ahead, echoing down the alley. She tensed, looking for danger. Only silence met her ears.

“Now what on earth is happening…” 

She continued down the long alley, keeping to the wall as more clatters came from just ahead, the source never in sight. 

Something is leading me, but to where?

As she continued, the alley became darker, covered at some point. Dot conjured a minor light spell, revealing more empty alleyway. It seemed to stretch on forever, echoing with her footsteps and the strange noises leading her… somewhere. 

At last, she came to a fork in the path. The clatters echoed around her, but she couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. 

“Choose…”

She jolted, looking around for the source of the voice. 

“Hello? Who said that?”

Silence once again. 

She hesitated, looking around the room one last time before choosing the left fork. The path sloped down, leading her deeper into whatever labyrinth she had stumbled into. The air was cold, and she shivered as she walked further. Another turn in the path, and more hallway. 

How long have I been here? 

Long enough. 

Her question was answered with a hissing whisper loud enough to carry down the winding hall. She wanted to freeze, wanted to turn back, but her body moved without her permission. She took sumbling steps towards whatever awaited her down there, fighting against whatever had decided to possess her like it had those people above. It felt like forever when she got to the end of the corridor. 

A door faced her, made of cracked stone and carved with words she couldn’t understand. Something moved behind the cracks, sliding past the light. Scales glittered in the light from her spell, green- black and distinctly not good. Something about it told her draconic, though she’d never seen anything of the sort up close. 

Princess, It purred, How lovely of you to visit me at such a time. Oh, but I have waited so long for this, to see you at my mercy instead of whatever dream drifts my way. 

It laughed, a cold hissing sound that grated at her ears. 

Well, I suppose it has been far too long since my last meal. What better dish to have than the same princess that sealed me here to wither away, hm? Now, about this blasted door. 

It moved, slamming into the door holding it. Dot flinched away from the rubble, ducking her head. It continued to struggle against the door, sending more rocks flying across the corridor. 

Wait- She could move again!  

She bolted away from the door as the thing gave a screech and the hall blazed with light. She kept running, not stopping until she got to the fork again. She collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. The rumbling was distant, but she still needed to get out of the labyrinth. There was no getting out the way she came in, so she went down the right fork. The ground here stayed level, reaching out straight on from her feet. The rumbling got softer the longer she walked, but she had a creeping feeling that wasn’t a good thing. 

She kept moving, not knowing where she was going except for away. Her feet ached, and the scrapes she had stung. She wanted rest, and to figure out where she was. She finally sank down against a wall, tired and worn from all that had happened within the span of… an hour? Two? Time seemed to disappear down here, sliding by her fingers as soon as she tried to grasp it. 

She got up after a bit, continuing down the passage. It had become winding, turning back on itself and looping unpredictably. Forks faced her at random, forcing her to pick whether she wanted to go up, down, or sideways. She wandered and walked, tired and thirsty. There was seemingly no end to the tunnels, and no way out that she could find. Was she doomed to wander down here for eternity? Was this a punishment? For what? 

She looked back down the long passage to see… light? Blue light emanated from somewhere down the curve of the wall, lighting her way without the need of the slowly fading light spell. She crept forward, wary of whatever was down there. She peeked around to see a swirling portal, blue and bright against the damp stone around it. It made a low, quiet hum just barely audible in the quiet dead end. She crept closer, feeling wind pull gently at her hair and clothes. 

Strange… 

Before she could investigate further, something moved in the tunnel behind her. She jerked, stumbling just in front of the portal as it reflected something looking back at her from behind. It was huge, some demented draconic form made from human and cloth, surrounded with drooping scales that reflected the blue light shining from the portal, now the sole light source. A human face stared out from the end, covered over with translucent scales and staring with sightless, lidless eyes. A gaping mouth showed hundreds of rotted teeth, blunt and broken from disuse and neglect. A hollow scraping sound emanated from the dark corridor beyond, and it wasn’t hard to imagine more of its body beyond, slithering to join its head. 

She was frozen in fear, watching it come closer and closer. It opened its mouth wider and wider, showing more rows of teeth behind the first few, all the way down its throat. It reeked of rot and mildew, choking her with the stench. She hadn’t known she was leaning forward, away from the monster coming closer, until her nose almost touched the swirling surface of the portal. She backed up, stumbling over a stone and coming face to face with the creature itself. It was worse up close, every detail staring her in the face. She shrieked, rolling away from it as it struck at the place she had been moments before. It shook its head as it reared up for another strike, hissing angrily. 

She stumbled toward the only exit she could find- the portal. The beast’s reflection was large and close behind hers, only interrupted by the swirls that made up its surface. She dove through the portal just as the thing struck, tumbling into the darkness that consumed her. 

She felt the familiar touch of grass and brush as she drifted away to the strong reaches of sleep. Then nothing more. 

[snidgetwidgeon]

Son of Hylia, Daughter of Farore

A roleswap Zelink AU

Art by @anxioussailorsoldier and used here with permission

This story is a one-shot inspired by the prompts from @drsteggy and was gifted to her in a fic exchange.

~~~

Link awoke suddenly, desperately trying to cling to the vision of a woman surrounded by bright light as it diminished from his foggy mind. Try as he might to enter back into the haze of his mysterious dream, sounds came louder and clearer to his ears, and he registered the rustle of the sheets sliding against his feet as he stretched, his senses slowly returning. Today would be a trying affair. He always remained fatigued after she appeared to him, ever speaking yet rendered frustratingly silent.

Perhaps he could try to lay low, hide in the library, and search yet again on the shelves he’d already scoured for something he may have missed; something to prove it was possible that he was having the visions vessels were known to have had. He just couldn’t interpret them. He spared a bittersweet thought for his late mother. She would have known, would have shown him. Or perhaps she would have bore a daughter, and there would be no question; and he could have supported his sister when they found out the Calamity was foretold to return.

But the Kingdom of Hyrule was left with a Prince at the precipice of doom. He’d never felt more useless, or more determined to do something about it. He would find a way. He would protect everyone.

Zelda shifted her feet, practicing her forms to warm up before training. She missed her scimitar. This new blade felt so different and she had to relearn how to make it an extension of herself. It was humbling when sparring partners she had previously bested came out on top. It just proved she still had much to learn and needed to become proficient with many weapon types if she wanted to be the greatest.

She recalled being a bit intimidated as her group of friends grew over the years. Where they used to be physical equals, they now towered above her; but she supposed she could be thankful for the challenge because it caused her to become an incredibly scrappy fighter, always looking for openings she could wheedle into.

This time she wheedled too far and forgot to watch her flank while in pursuit of one of her opponents. Another warrior swept in and bashed her ribs as she was on an upswing and it sent her flying. As she was pulled up, she couldn’t help but think spitefully that the same would not have happened if she were allowed her weapon of choice. She could have recovered with her scimitar but the swing on the Master Sword was different.

“Nice air you caught there,” her sparring partner teased in Gerudo. “Again?”

Zelda recovered her blade from a few paces away and declined, “I think I’ll just nurse my wounds and ego for awhile, thanks.”

“Suit yourself. I recommend you do solitary for a few days with your new acquaintance,” she pointed her chin towards the Master Sword in Zelda’s grip. “See if you two can make friends,” she winked and ran back to join the fray.

Zelda stared down at the sword with slight contempt. Urbosa had told her of the legends she’d learned from the late Queen of Hyrule, and her son, Prince Link- that the sword was wielded to protect Hylia, and how the blade itself chose its master and would even communicate. Someone being chosen meant that a shit storm was likely brewing.

Urbosa also mentioned that preparations were being made against some sort of Calamity. The word made Zelda’s blood run cold and she knew it was something to be feared. If the sword was not speaking to her, perhaps it chose wrong and she was not suited to the challenge. She had tried everything she could think of, even hours of meditation, which she hated because she didn’t like sitting still for long.

But it was all for naught.

She wove her way through the stalls and bustle of the marketplace, sword heavy on her back, and day after day it had only served to weigh her down even more. She could no longer stand it. She exited the north-western gates and ran along the outer wall. Heart pounding and sweating all over, she dug a rather shallow and pathetic hole, chucked the sword in and kicked sand over it before walking away in a huff, muttering, “Curse the day I found your infuriating silence!”

She’d been training in the desert when she discovered it, exploring further than she ever had over the dunes. Following the statues with their guiding swords, she finally came upon the last one and sheltered under her cloak at its base as a sandstorm passed. Thankfully, it was short and as she stood to shake as much sand as she could off her person, she noticed something strange in the distance. She could have sworn she’d reached the last statue of the warriors. Perhaps she’d miscounted as there stood another on the horizon, the reflection of its sword glinting brightly in its grasp.

Zelda took a drink from her ration, taking note of how much was left before deciding she could manage one more. If anything, it would improve her survival skills.

As she neared the solid figure rising out of the sands she noticed that the sword it held was elaborate. Oddly enough, a scabbard for it was slung over the shoulder which made it appear that someone had just left it there. She looked around but only saw a few cacti bearing voltfruits, perfect for carrying around extra moisture for the return trip. Some movement caught her eye behind a cactus and she ran over, pulling her scimitar, in case there was meat to be had, but she was met with a poof of sparkling petals and could have sworn she heard a childish giggle.

After investigating thoroughly, she cut the fruits and placed them into her bag before returning to the statue. It would be a shame to leave such a fine piece of work out in the middle of nowhere. She climbed the figure and slipped the scabbard off the shoulder, letting it fall to the sand before holding the neck and planting her feet against the torso so she could reach the hilt with her free hand. It did not budge. Hiking herself up, she wrapped her legs around the neck so she could use both hands to pull on the wings above the hilt.

She was straining when she heard the laugh again, accompanied by a rattle, and in her distraction, the blade suddenly came loose and they both tumbled into the sand.

She’d thought nothing of it until returning to Gerudo Town.

During a routine visit to the throne room, Chief Urbosa had nearly sent away visiting dignitaries when she spied the sword on Zelda’s back. After the meeting, Urbosa called her into her private quarters, which was very unusual. Perhaps she was to be given a special assignment.

“Where did you find that sword?” Urbosa asked with intense interest and a hint of concern.

Zelda stood at attention and replied concisely, “In the desert, Chief.”

“Zelda, have you any idea what you’ve found?”

Zelda began to doubt her decision to play finders keepers. Maybe it was a ceremonial sword or relic that should have stayed where it was. Though she had been raised with the Gerudo, she certainly did not purport to know all of their culture and was horrified by the idea that she’d deeply offended them.

~~~

Urbosa removed her bracelets and hair ornaments, letting the thick, red locks fall down her back. Making sure her tea would be in reach, she snuggled into her bed and opened a letter from her favorite Hylian. She always saved his letters for the end of the day when her attention could be undivided and she could imagine actually having a conversation with him. He was so bright and inquisitive, and optimistic- as his letter revealed. Just like her love.

~I have not given up my search. I keep thinking that surely, there is a pocket in the library I have not scoured. But then another duty and another day takes me away from it. I see her, Urbosa. It has to mean something. If only I could find evidence that there has been a son of Hylia. Why else would I be given visions? If only I could interpret them...

Do you know how mother did it? Did she ever say anything?~

He then went on to describe his involvement with the funding of the research at the Royal Ancient Lab as well as other gossip that he and Urbosa kept up on, including their inside jokes about stuffy nobles. He also wanted to hear more about the warrior who had pulled the Master Sword.

~Does the bearer of the Blade that Seals the Darkness fare well? The moment I learned of her, I hoped that it was a sliver of evidence to prove my case. If there is a woman as Farore’s chosen, then perhaps it lends weight to the fact that a man could be Nayru’s chosen. But I’m harping. Perhaps I will be able to meet her soon, though father keeps me tied up in social engagements. He has taken to parading me at events where there are ample amounts of young debutantes to vie for my attention. I’d much rather be studying.~

Urbosa wrote back early the next morning after skimming the letter again.

~It seems our chosen Hero is having trouble awakening the power within the blade. When you sent word of legends that say the sword speaks to a worthy master, she immediately felt inadequate. Zelda excels at any challenge and eventually overcomes all obstacles, so when she continually failed to connect with the sword’s spirit, she took out her frustrations in a childish manner. The other day she was witnessed burying it in the sand outside the town walls. She must have blown off all her steam because she did retrieve it later that night.

I think that learning her fate has been weighing on her. She puts on a stoic face but I can see she has reservations. Perhaps if you two came together, something will give?~

After reading Urbosa’s reply, Link laid the parchment back down on his desk and pondered her proposition. He had been wanting to expand his search outside the castle for sometime and though he enjoyed visiting the Royal Lab, it did not hold any answers for what he sought; they were just a bunch of rowdy mechanics who were a lot of fun to hang around with. But to understand his history and role, he wanted to go on a pilgrimage to the known spiritual sites of Hyrule, and perhaps discover unknown ones as well so he could be better informed on how to defeat the Calamity, and possibly awaken the power of Hylia along the way.

He would start making arrangements right away.

~~~

King Rhoam rapped his knuckles on the door of his son’s study. When Link answered with a curt nod and a polite greeting, he entered, leaving his guard detail outside. He thought it prudent to retain at least some privacy for this matter, considering the gossip it could generate.

“I hear you’re planning some sort of trip,” it came out as a statement more than a question.

“A pilgrimage. To try and find any proof of my suspicions-”

He was interrupted by his father’s large, dissatisfied sigh. “Link, you really must stop harping on about that nonsense. Hylia has only ever been reincarnated into the mortal body of a female, that’s just the way it is. A tradition that extends even far beyond what we have in written history.”

“Exactly. We don’t know everything. How do you explain my visions? Mother had them. She knew how to interpret them.”

“Perhaps they’re just dreams,” Rhoam offered again in a misguided attempt to engage.

Link smacked the book he was about to pack on the table in frustration. “I can’t believe you keep saying that, you just don’t understand.”

“What I understand is that you continue to foolishly insist on chasing dreams and fantasies rather than doing something tangible for your people. You’re wasting time, Link. You should be courting and choosing a wife so that you can pass on the bloodline to a potential Princess who will-” Rhoam saw the shock in his boy’s face and tried to change track, “We have no idea when the Calamity will strike, we should be doing everything we can to prevent disaster.”

Link clenched his jaw as a deep anger and loathing swelled in his breast. Voice trembling in rage, he rebutted, “I am not going to produce an heir just to send her to the slaughter. I will fight my own battles. This Calamity is coming down on us! I just need to figure out how to awaken Hylia’s power.” He grabbed his bag and stormed out before Rhoam could push his agenda further.

~~~

The next letter Urbosa received from Link outlined his travels. She grinned as she read through them, glad that he’d managed to get away.

~The Forgotten Temple was very difficult to access, and though it did not produce any results, it was a breath taking trip. It has the largest Goddess Statue I have ever seen and I felt a peculiar familiarity while standing under her benevolent smile. I think this is promising.

We’re now at the ruins of the Temple of Time on the Great Plateau. I’m no stranger to the place of course, but the Priestess has been most helpful in providing old texts to study that were not available at the Castle. She’s even offered to assign a scribe to make copies for me.

I hope to be underway again soon and I would like to visit the Seven Heroines. I want to leave no stone unturned. I shall send a dispatch for when we expect to be arriving in the desert.~

When the time came, Urbosa bid Zelda to be an escort for the Prince across the sands to Gerudo Town. “Listen carefully, Zelda. Being the Prince is more than reason enough to keep him safe, but there may be a chance that he is so much more. The fact that you wield that sword lends weight to his theory that he may be Hylia reborn.”

Zelda’s eyes widened but she remained silent, nodding dutifully.

“I’ll need you to deliver some supplies to him so that he may enter unmolested upon arrival.”

“Chief?” Zelda asked, uncertain about the order. Hylia possibly being in a boy she could handle, but in all her time there, she’d never heard of a voe entering Gerudo Town. For Urbosa to speak of it almost as if it were done every other day was- confusing, to say the least.

Urbosa raised her brow at the question. “He is my Oten’vehvi and knows how to behave within these walls. You need not concern yourself with the politics, just act as his personal guard.”

“Yes, Chief.”

She made her preparations and checked that all was secure with the ‘contraband.’ The idea of meeting the Prince was troubling to say the least. She felt completely inadequate, bearing a sword that considered her unworthy. Perhaps she could pass it onto him and he could find the most courageous person in Hyrule. With his resources she was sure it wouldn’t be that hard. Then again, legendary swords weren’t known for choosing incorrect Heroes, so what was wrong with her?

They would just have to work together somehow.

She rode most of the way at a leisurely pace behind her sand seal until she noticed a scuffle as she neared Kara Kara. “HUP!” she directed her seal to go a bit faster to investigate.

A couple of Hylian vai shrieked when they saw her. “The Prince! Please save our Prince!” they cried as they pointed west.

There were two Yiga chasing after a nimble blond clad in light blue. She sprung after them, tongue rolling in a call to let her mount know they needed to go as fast as if they were fleeing a molduga.

The Prince was doing well for himself until he fell, a prey disposition coming over him. He scooted back but could only stare at the assassins, frozen in fear.

Zelda used her inertia to whip across the sand and jumped to land between the Prince and his attackers. She drew her sword, imbued with courage and confident that she could easily protect the boy against the likes of this desert rabble. She almost become distracted by the sword’s sudden glow before exchanging blows with the masked Yiga. They soon realized they were no match for her and dispersed in pops of red and orange light, laughter echoing in their place.

Breathing heavily, she turned back to face the Prince who was still flat on his bum. They both ogled the glowing sword.

An ethereal, disembodied voice broke the silence, “Master, it is good to see you again.”

Their eyes snapped to each other and searched for understanding. There was an immediate and unmistakable bond between them. They’d both heard it.

“I see...” Zelda began. She glared down at the Master Sword, fist clenching the handle and shaking with anger. “So you only deign to speak when your charge is present?” Her voice rose, “I wasn’t good enough for you?! You picky piece of shit!” she yelled as she hurled the sword into the dunes.

Link gaped in disbelief that his protector was so uncouth when something profound occurred to him. He fell back into the sand laughing, a massive wave of relief washing over him.

She looked at him curiously. “What? What is it?”

His laughter died down and he gazed into the sky, moisture glistening in the corner of his eye. “She’s with me.”

Zelda’s eyebrows knitted in confusion, unaware of the turmoil he had experienced regarding his identity.

Link stood and brushed himself off then held out his hand in greeting. “You must be Zelda. Bearer of the Blade that seals the Darkness.”

She accepted his shake and added spitefully, “More like the blade that won’t open its trap unless its mommy is around.”

“You know, I find it very intriguing, my mother’s name was also Zelda.”

“Yes, my mother was a big fan. It’s kind of flattering, she was a great lady. But people always joke that I’m the lost, secret princess and other nonsense.” She started to move away but he touched her arm and she paused.

“Thank you- for saving my life; but also for revealing the truth. Now that I know she’s here,” he touched his heart, “I will find her.”

Zelda eyed him like a strange bug, still unsure as to what he was on about. She patted his shoulder as she walked over to retrieve her weapon, “Good luck with that.”

~~~

A few nights later, Link and Urbosa took a stroll just outside of town to enjoy each other’s company, catching up on their daily lives. The stars twinkled brightly and the moon shone pale on the dunes, a steady breeze drifting the sands away to the dark horizon. He’d just intimated what his father would have him do to stay the coming Calamity.

She touched his shoulder in support, “And what did you say?”

“That this was our battle. And I would absolutely not have a child just to-” he sighed deeply. “I mean, I know the legends. There will always be a vessel of Hylia and her chosen Hero, but to be so deliberate and unfeeling about it, I just...”

“It’s alright. Your father has always been rather blunt, and practical to a fault. For what it’s worth, I believe in you. The visions you describe sound very similar to what your mother shared with me.”

He looked up to her with a smile, “It’s worth a lot, you’re my Oten’baba; your opinion matters to me more than anyone else.”

They continued on for a short time in companionable silence when Urbosa stopped and lifted her head to the night, listening and placing a hand on her scimitar.

“What is it?” Link asked, only noticing after he’d taken a few steps ahead.

A raucous laughter cut across the desert and as quick as Urbosa had been to draw her blade and prepare a snap of deadly electricity over her foes, two of them grabbed the Prince and held their sickles to his neck causing her to stay her hand.

“What a lovely package we have here tonight. Not only can we bag the boy, we can finally rid ourselves of the thorn in our side, Gerudo Tempest!” a Yiga foot soldier, hidden amongst the rest, spat the last two words out in disgust.

They attacked and dozens fell upon the Chief, running head on and popping up behind. A dance of blades began and Link struggled to free himself. Urbosa tried to lead her foes away but Link’s captors followed, dragging his feet through the sand.

“You’ll not be using your lightning with the precious Prince so close, will you?” gloated the same antagonizing voice.

Link cried out in terror when he saw a Yiga succeed in cutting her arm. She seethed and decked them right across the jaw. When they fell she jumped onto their back and launched herself in the air so she could shoot off a bolt.

“Oh, no! Is the Tempest in distress?” the voice goaded, and the masks cackled.

Link couldn’t tell where the mocking was coming from, they were everywhere and nowhere at once. There were too many. Urbosa was becoming overwhelmed and aid may not arrive in time- a gash landed on her leg- he was going to lose her. The laughing was getting louder, the air becoming so thick with magic that it tasted like chalk on his tongue- a slice was delivered up her back and she cried out. He squeezed his eyes shut and thought of his mother. What would she do? There hadn’t been anything he could do for her then, but he was here now for his living mother.

Link’s eyes shot open just in time to see Urbosa drowning under the onslaught and his insides fell into oblivion. They were replaced by a warmth that spread through his body and beyond. He jerked his head in confusion as those that held him fell away. He was free. Sparks akin to those he felt when he fell asleep on his hand in the library spread through his fingers and he launched himself into the foray. He clawed through Yiga soldiers to get to her and did not see how each one he yanked was thrown back with a force of golden energy.

“Urbosa! URBOSA!?” They hit the ground.

The desert was lit with a false sunrise as Link crushed Urbosa in a desperate embrace. The light washed over her, healing her wounds as it cascaded around them in a dome, their enemies lying motionless on the outside.

After a few stunned moments, they opened their eyes and picked each other up. Urbosa held his face in her hands and wiped his tears. “Just look at you,” she said, smiling proudly.

“I- I couldn’t. I was,” he stumbled over his words as more tears fell, “I was going to lose you. I couldn’t lose you too,” he cried into her chest and she held him close.

~~~

Link was a natural at seal surfing. That’s what Zelda thought before she realized that he must have actually visited Gerudo Town previously and she just didn’t know it. They had left at sunrise and arrived to their destination mid morning. After taking a much needed rest, re-hydrating and snacking, Link took a leisurely walk around the place to get his bearings while Zelda tended to the sand seals. She joined him after they were settled for a long siesta and the two of them began their research of the Seven Heroines in interest.

There were orbs scattered about the place. Very large, Link noticed. He pushed one with his foot. And heavy. The sand seals might have to work after all. He tasked Zelda with collecting any she could find and in the meantime he studied the statues, picking up rather quickly that some had prominent corresponding symbols to the orbs on various parts of their bodies. Some he couldn’t make out as they were too high so there would be some educated guesses by process of elimination.

Zelda couldn’t help being drawn into his enthusiasm, the way he took notes- the face he made when he took those notes; it was all very quaint, and a bit impressive. Having spent most of her time advancing physically, she appreciated the mental gymnastics they were doing. Where most might sit back defeated, Link pushed through with a calm determination. They tried dropping the orbs in the pedestals in numerous combinations, each with a sound theory behind them. How was Link to know that if shrines had been activated, he would have succeeded in getting a result on the first try? A fact that they both wouldn’t learn for another 103-odd years.

After the sun set, Link scrawled until the dimming light rendered the page unreadable. Zelda had already set about making camp. They could head back to town in the morning, both were knackered. Even with the help of the seals, they’d heaved plenty of orbs around for hours. Eventually he plopped down on the rug with her and heaved a big sigh.

“Wow, you been working all day or something?” she asked in jest as she turned the vegetables in the fire.

“Yeah, something like that. It’s been a long while since I’ve been out in the field.”

She regarded him thoughtfully. “What’s it like up at the castle?”

“Stuffy.”

She chuckled and didn’t press but it wouldn’t be fair to leave it at that. For all its faults, it deserved more. “I loved exploring the halls as a boy. I’m fairly certain I found long lost passages even the castle historian didn’t know about. My favorite places are the Library and the Observatory. “

“Sounds about right,” Zelda smirked.

“Ha ha. But really, the Library has books as far as you can see, you’d never finish them in one lifetime. And my mother used to take me to the Observatory. I still go there to feel close to her.”

They sat in silence for a moment when Zelda touched his forearm. “I’m sorry you lost her.”

Link nodded in thanks and Zelda started to collect the hearty truffles from the coals. “I lost my father,” she began, and Link was a bit surprised she was sharing.

“He was a knight. We didn’t have any other family close by and mom didn’t fancy moving to Tabantha Village. She hates the cold,” Zelda added as she passed Link a stick laden with dinner.

“Thanks. So she just came to the desert instead?” Link asked before blowing generously and taking a bite.

“She had a close friend here who is practically my auntie. I think she was hoping we could just get away and start fresh from everything we knew before. But then I had to take after dad. Took her a while and a lot of arguments to come to terms with the fact that I was also a warrior.” She shook her head. “I feel bad. I’ve put her in a constant fear of losing me too but... you have to do what your soul tells you, right?”

Link closed his eyes and thought of Hylia, feeling a vibration in his core. “Right.” He agreed thoughtfully.

“Anyway, then this happened,” she said, unsheathing the sword on her back a few inches and letting fall back in with a shinck. “That was not a fun conversation.”

“I can imagine,” Link commiserated as he thought of his own recent rows with his father.

Zelda took a bite of her own truffle and regarded him up and down. With no tact for manners, she said with a full mouth, “You’re alrigh’ fo’ a Pince.”

Link laughed and his genuine mirth spread warmth through Zelda’s chest. “And you’re alright for a Hero.”

[hellonoblesky]

Happy Saturday it’s past 2am here’s Harbinger Angst. Because I’m up late and I’m havinggg thoughts.

So here’s my hcs about the Harbingers reacting to/dealing with the news of Signora‘s death :)

(CW For like. Mental breakdowns and guilt and general emotional instability because no one is having a good time here. Oh also cussing, anddd some familial angst in Childe’s bit? Also I am so sorry about any misspellings n whatever it is. Very late and I already have two other posts in my drafts collecting dust that are also HCs so.)

Dottore:

So if you don’t follow my art blog or haven’t seen my Harbinger hcs (which are under the process of some change with new info being released and whatnot), you don’t know this but I HC Dot and Signora to be like sorta just evil siblings

Now because death is such a commodity in Dot’s uh… specific line of work, he doesn’t register that Signora is dead until like two days after he hears the news

He picked up the phone (rotary perhaps?) to go call up Signora‘a office to see if she has any good gossip and then stopped halfway through dialing because it hit him that she’s never going to be there to pick up the phone on the other end. Ever.

He usually listens to music when he’s working but with the absence of Signora ranting he has to take up listening to the radio on top of the music

Problem is: the radio doesn’t have the same charm and cadence to it that Signora’s rants did, because normal people are boring and it’s going to drive Dot up the walls if he has to listen to one more commercial or one more anxious ramble about how cool and great the Fatui are from some stupid radio host trying not to overstep the Tasritsa’s favor like she listens to some boring ass radio station in her spare time!!!

HE HATES IT. But is forced to make do because if he shows weakness he will be torn apart (or so he thinks)

So this leads to him locking himself away in his office even more than he already did

Because he was already intrigued by the traveller after their actions in Mond and their victory against Childe, but them beating Signora in a duel before the Shogun? Oh now that kickstarted a whole new line of study

Especially because his only coping mechanisms are Be Destructive and Dive So Far Into Work You Don’t Think so within about three days he has a comprehensive analysis of everything he can possibly get his hands on regarding the Traveler (without interacting with other people) and is about to pass out because he hasn’t slept

Oh and the funeral was absolute hell for him.

Mainly because while he was barely conscious he agreed to play violin at the service and then promptly passed out and forgot about it so he woke up and was hit with the consequences of his own actions in the form of sheet notes

He endured, obviously, he’s not going to back down from playing something at the funeral of one of the few interesting people in the organization, that’s what tools and cowards do and this might be the Fatui but if he’d survived the wrath of dead gods he would make it through this

Went right back to locking himself away after that though

He actually got bad enough that the other Harbingers took notice of his state and MADE him come out of his labs and eat (mainly at demand of the Tsaritsa because she just lost the Crimson Witch as an asset, she wants the rest of her Harbingers in good health god dammit, the Traveler is becoming a genuine threat)

Broke down at dinner a week after the funeral

Swears that if any of the other Harbingers bring it up ever ever again he will kill their bodies and keep their consciousnesses trapped in a machine that he controls forevermore

Really he’s just glad that no one immediately pounced on one of his few shows of weakness

Maybe he’ll risk it again if it means he can cry it out for another hour but he wouldn’t dare say that out loud, won’t even finish the thought

But you know what he will do?

What he does best, of course

Look at an oddity in the world (in this case the traveller) and seek to pick it apart until he can put it back together without looking and still have it work

The only way he can actually get through his grieving is by finding something to take the edge off

And it just so happens that the traveller is a perfect candidate

Childe:

By no means has he ever liked Signora, in regards to personality or method, but her death still hit him

He had to travel back to Snezhnaya for the funeral, and it did absolutely cheer him up to see his family again and get to spoil them all silly, but with a mind whirling with thoughts it was genuinely hard for him to keep a smile up

Mainly thoughts about battle, because that’s really the only way he can interpret the world at this point

Like he keeps thinking about weather the Traveler was holding back with him, or if they had gained the strength to fight off yet another Fatui plot just in the month or so since Liyue? And if they had gained strength, how had they done it so fast? If they’d been holding back against him had he not shown himself to be a fighter worthy of their strength? Had Signora even faced the Traveler‘s full strength?

Overall his head is much too full of too many things, and it wears him out to the point that he ends up sleeping in late enough for his family to actually worry because usually he’s up before dawn training and they don’t see him until the afternoon

But he’s back on track as soon as he can, because the training helps him think, and once he can resolve most of his thoughts (or repress them so they don’t bother him too often) he’s absolutely alright and fine and ready to go! Totally. Fine. It’s fine.

The thoughts were very much There during the funeral, especially as the first harbinger read a (somewhat summarized version) of Signora’s life to the assembly of Fatui

(Oh and Pierro didn’t really care weather or not Signor wanted people to know her life after she died because she was dead now what was she going to do??)

The reveal that Signora had been fighting for the Fatui because her lover had been killed by the actions of the Anemo Archon, and she desired nothing more than to see him again… it got to Childe. It got to Childe more than he’d like to admit

Because suddenly the woman who he had always known as the embodiment of frostbite and frozen barbed wire fencing had someone she had cared about, genuinely cared about, to the point where she had become the Mondstadt legend, the Crimson Witch herself

And she had lost that lover to the actions of a fool of a God

He swore silently to himself that when the Tsaritsa‘s future came to pass he would make a little monument for Signora. Nothing big, probably a plaque on a nice stone where Mondstadt would have been before the Tsaritsa’s success, but a monument nonetheless

This promise was a spur of the moment thing, and later he would be like “Man she was a jerk, lost love or not why did I promise her that?“ but he doesn’t go back on promises

Besides, actually watching Dottore break down in a grief and sleep-depravation induced haze was also something that got to him because of course the two people he happened to simply Hate The Most in the organization were close that makes perfect sense but also wow it is weird to see Dottore cry and it feels Wrong because after murdering and tormenting so many people… Signora is gone and he breaks then??? What the fuck

Avoids most of the Harbingers after that, just heads home to Morepesok to spoil his siblings silly before going back to Liyue

Oh and his siblings can tell something is up, Teucer especially because when his brilliant big brother, the greatest toy salesman in all of Snezhnaya, is suddenly struggling to keep a smile even though they’re at home… he notices

Childe’s other siblings are all avoiding the subject, they heard about the death of Signora and all, they just assume the organization is going through it tight now and frankly most of them are a little afraid of him weather they‘ll admit it or not

Not Teucer though, he’s confused just because he still has grasped how Snezhnaya works yet, so he goes ahead and asks anyway

Childe just says he’s sad because he has to leave again so soon! And he hasn’t even been able to take Teucer fishing this time, isn’t that sad?

Teucer can tell that he’s lying

But Teucer is also beginning to sense the danger that lies behind Childe’s eyes, so for the first time? He doesn’t push it or say that they could go fishing now if they hurry

Just a grin and a “Next time!! Promise?” Makes it all better and he doesn’t have to think about why his big brother feels unnerving to look at sometimes

Childe is oblivious to Teucer’s growing awareness

He heads back to Liyue and makes himself focus on work

Scaramouch:

Now he didn’t particularly like Signora either, and didn’t really care about her life’s story, because blah blah blah we get it lady you lost someone, we all did, cry about it or whatever

But he does feel… he feels guilty for leaving her to face the Shogun

He had the Gnosis, he had finished Signora’s mission for her without even meaning to, and he had thought it would be funny to just let her face the Shogun without knowing that

To some extent, it’s his fault she’s dead

And it’s not the fact that she died because he didn’t go get her that weighs on him, it’s that he left her to the Shogun of all things

I don’t know if puppets like Scara can feel things like people and such do, but considering how the Shogun expressed frustration and stress when Ei disabled the majority of her functions, I’m going to assume they can

And because of the meddling of ‘some eccentric scientists’ his emotions are probably toned down a tad but he can still feel guilt all the same

And leaving Signora to the Shogun makes him feel guilty because he and the Shogun are essentially kin

Disowned and disavowed kin, but you know

He may have been able to easily counter the Shogun, or even help Signora prevail in her duel, but he. Ran. Off.

He happens to think that that was very cowardly of him

It causes a spike in his aggression which everyone unfortunately has to notice every time he walks by because the sheer static electricity that snaps in the air when he’s in the room now? Haha. Ouchie

Fun fact: he has no idea how to cope with guilt

He channels ALL of it into SHEER RAGE

Ever seen a couple hundred year old man go absolutely apeshit in the Harbinger‘s shared training arena? Well now you have!! It’s not a pretty sight!!

He’s crying and can’t tell why, which fuels his anger, which fuels stress as a fun side effect which just makes more tears and now he has to snap someone in half because he needs it to stop he hates it here he hates it here he hates it here

And in the beginning the guilt wasn’t even that severe for him, it was just so immensely magnified by his lack of coping skills that he very nearly broke himself down

He tried going to Dottore to get it disabled but Dottore had his doors all locked so Scara couldn’t even get a word through to him

Oh and the funeral was fine with him he just left early because he didn’t want to deal with looking people in the eye at the time because, again, his lack of coping skills with guilt magnified the whole feeling so it was almost unbearable

It’s a lot of fighting and breaking things before he’s able to resign himself to some semblance of how he was

[cathyparrlyn]

TIME FOR A RANDOM HEADCANON POST YEEEEEEEEEE

Six: Fantasy AU

Premise: The queens are all rebels against the Tudor kingdom. They are wanted criminals as escaped wives of King Henry. Anne and Lina were the first two to group together and then decided to get the others to join their force so they could work together to finally put an end to Henry’s kingdom of terror. They then have many gay adventures together.

Aragon: a priestess from the church of Stanlicia (cause Alicia is the god of gay nirvana, no I don’t take criticism). Don’t let the holy woman vibe fool you though, she might focus on her bible, but she also is not afraid to drop kick any fucker who comes remotely close to her in any threatening manner. Aragon, although the only human of the group, is well known as the one you should not fuck with. She is the leader of the group, seeing as she is the only one who can read a map and not get distracted by colorful flowers or ancient ruins *insert Cathy and Kat feeling attacked in the background*. She has stupendous charisma and leadership skills, knowing when to be assertive and when to be cautious. She is also a distance fighter, rocking a nice bow and arrow set. Her talents are pep talks, singing, persuasion, distance offensive maneuvers, and leadership.

Anne: a fucking elf. What else did you expect? Okay, but seriously? Full on elf, raised from status and privilege, yet heavily burdened by expectations and gender stereotypes. Anne is a free spirit just like how her mother was, and after her mother’s passing she took on her mother’s dream of adventuring the world. She ran away from home with Kitty, never looking back. She is definitely the risk taker of the group, often causing chaos and laughing at their enemies failures. Truly a master of combat and swordsmanship, Anne wields dual swords that she had stolen from Henry. She struggles with magic even though she is an elf, and she is very insecure about the subject. She is also a bit of the flirt of the group, but only genuinely means it when she’s with Cathy. Often at times she can be found asking Cathy to do a spell for some impulsive idea she had. Her skills are sleight of hand, deception, persuasion, seduction, animal handling, combat, and dance.

Jane: a nymph who literally tries to adopt every plant and animal in sight. As long as it’s not among the “civilized” races, to her it has a heart and deserves love. Firm believe in fuck humanity and fuck kids, she’s a proud plant mama. A lover more than a fighter, she is more of the groups support. She has plenty of herbs for healing and knows where to go when in need of food or water, or even direction. She also befriends plenty of animals, so when push comes to shove they defend her. She can also control plants which is pretty badass, she literally used vines to yeet some of Henry’s men off a cliff into the lake once. Anne was so jealous and begged Cathy for a week to give her plant arms so she could be badass like Jane. That was a good day. Her skills are healing, navigation, empathy, nature knowlegde, basic survival skills, among a few others. Out of the group though, she is the worse fighter.

Anna: she is part demon. Demon have been banished and slaughtered for years, their existence is believed noneexistent at this point in time due to the years of war and persecution. Although minor, Anna is well aware of the demon blood that runs through her veins and constantly has to hide her dark magic or else she’ll be ostracized and murdered. It doesn’t matter how much demon blood is inside a person, they have the potential to turn into a full fledged demon, and that is Anna’s greatest fear along with the group leaving her and deeming her a monster. Although her race has dark origins, Anna is one of the most loyal and softest people you’ll ever meet, always caring for the others and doing whatever she can to protect them. She is attached to them. Sir, that is her emotional support found family. Just don’t breathe negatively in Kat’s direction, Anna will hear it and then give you a glare that makes hell seem like a playground. Her expertises are forgotten languages, sleight of hand, and tank battling styles. She is very well trained in hand to hand combat and can kick some major ass with her overwhelming strength (which is totally human and not demon what so ever.... hehehe.)

Kat: she is Anne’s baby cousin and somewhat like an apprentice, also a half elf. She is a dual axe wielder, but also quite the performer and grifter just like her cousin. Her elf nature gives off the image of status, even if she is a magicless elf whom are viewed to be worthless scum. However her human side gives her some trouble and nasty rumors, along with making her a bit more impulsive than most elves (then again, seeing Anne, that might just be the family). She is a very gentle gal when it comes to taking care of others, and she begs for a familiar everyday. Kat has a fascination with history and adventure and is the second best story teller, only falling short to her cousin Anne. More often than not you will catch her singing while she practices her axe swinging. Although small and gentle, don’t mistake her for incompetent and weak unless you want to lose a hand or your head to her axe. She might be baby, but babies don’t take shit from bigots. Her expertises are in history, disguise, music, and sneak attacks.

Cathy: She is a fucking witch, and a badass one at that. She was a gifted magic user since a very young age. While most people are able to unlock and control enough magic around the age of puberty, Cathy was able to manage hers at the age of six. This she was very proud of as her dutiful nature allowed her to learns a galore of spells, potions, and legends through her research and practice. However, it also caused her to have to pick her activation phrase and motion, something that can never be changed, at a young age. Let’s just say, she has regrets and Cathy’s parents knew she was bi since Cathy was six. Anyways, she totally kicks ass. After getting bored of mastering the basic extensive magics, Cathy decided to study mythology and psychology and dove into the dark magics. Although dark magic users are ostracized and in majority of the land illegal, Cathy couldn’t stop herself from falling in love with the subject and becoming a dark mage / witch. Her skills are potion making, knowledge of multiple languages, dark magic, sarcasm, explosions, enhancements, protection, writing, and more. She is one of the most powerful magic users in the land and have a vast knowledge of magic and beings. Now if only she could fucking figure out herself, or at the very least learn how to get a decent amount of sleep.

Thank you to everyone who read this xx

Here is the fantasy picrew I used:

[bookstantrash]

A/N: Sorry for disappearing, I promise I have not given up on this fic. Life is kinda of a mess right now. The College Entrance Exams Season has just begun, and I’ve been studying nonstop, which leaves me with little time to write and a brain overheated due to excessive studying.

Good news tho! So far, I have been accepted in the two colleges I’ve already applied for, which leaves me with just The Big Scary Exam in January which also has a second phase that is FIVE DAYS AFTER ACOSF IS RELEASED. And which is pretty much my dream college

But let’s talk about happy things. Get comfortable and enjoy the long overdue Part Four!

In which she makes a friend, Part Four

Cassian woke up in the late afternoon. After a silently breakfast with Nesta, he went to report to Devlon and go over the papers he had left piling up in his absence. Nesta had gone to her room — probably to take a bath and change out of the leathers — and he had not seen her since. He had promptly fallen asleep as soon as his head had hit the pillow, his aching muscles and wings screaming for some well deserved rest.

Cassian debated whether to knock on Nesta’s door or not as he splashed some cold water on his face. He had decided he was going to help her, he just didn’t know how to do that without seeming as if he was just following orders from Feyre. Nesta was not a burden. Would never be. At least not for him. He was going to do this right and make up for the two months he was away.

Gathering his courage, he softly knocked on her door, straining his ears to listen to something that would indicate that she was in her bedroom. When he heard nothing, not even her breathing, he remembered the stone bench. The weather was sunny — with “sunny” in Illyria meaning that the grey sky was more or less free of clouds and the cold not as unforgiving as usual. However, when he opened the front door and stepped outside, he did not see Nesta but the young Illyrian he had seen earlier, Kaelin.

Cassian stayed quiet, taking the opportunity to inspect the kid, which was so busy writing something down in a piece of paper — Cassian could see him biting his lip in concentration and pushing back a stray curl that kept falling on his eyes — that didn’t take notice of his arrival. Kaelin was a question mark that had suddenly appeared in his life. Cassian didn’t know who the Illyrian was, but if Nesta had chosen to trust him — to take him under her care when she could not deign to care for herself — then he was going to trust her decision. And he would ask Kaelin to work with him to help Nesta heal.

“You know, if you’re thinking of growing your hair maybe you should have something to tie it back” Cassian said, clearing his throat to warn Kaelin of his presence.

Kaelin almost fell from the bench in surprise, quickly raising to greet him.

“Please, there’s no need for that” Cassian pleaded, interrupting Kaelin before he did the formal salute “You are living here now, you may address me informally”.

“Yes, sir” he hesitantly answered, as if unsure if he should be treating his superior like that.

The younglings usually liked Cassian. He did teach a lot of them to fly and played with them whenever he had the chance. But Kaelin was in the phase where training got harder, tougher. When the Camp Lords started to separate those who had potential and those who would only be another number in the army.

“Isn’t it better to write inside? The bench looks uncomfortable” Cassian tried, hoping to gain the kid’s trust.

“Nesta said...she said it’s good to read out loud while you write” the tip of Kaelin’s ears turned soft pink “I didn’t want to disturb you, sir”

Nesta was teaching Kaelin how to read.

Cassian didn’t know what to do with this new information. He had really missed a lot on two months.

“I wouldn’t be woken by your voice. I usually sleep like the dead”.

“When I can actually sleep” Cassian thought. His dreams usually turned into nightmares, and he only slept well when he was near the point of passing out from fatigue. Like today.

“Oh, I see. Nesta gave me one of the military books in your living room to practice, I hope that’s fine” the young Illyrian knotted his eyebrows in confusion “She said she didn’t have any books I could read”.

“No, I don’t think she has” Cassian allowed himself a small smile, thinking about the dirty romance novels he knew Nesta liked. He didn’t think they’d have been proper for Kaelin “Feel free to take any books you like. I’ll see if I can get hold of less boring ones for you”.

“I don’t want to burden you!!” he quickly said “Really, they’re not boring. A bit hard to understand, but I usually write down the words I don’t know and Nesta helps me later”.

“It’s not a bother. I was planning to get some books for Nesta. She reads a lot and I think she may have run out of books now”.

Cassian tried to calm Kaelin, making sure it was nothing out of his way. He knew how it felt when you had nothing and people offered you things. The first time he had received a present, a solstice gift from Rhysand’s mother, he had been afraid to accept and had cried afterwards, once he was alone. He could only imagine how it was for the Kaelin. An orphan who once had some and suddenly was stripped of even the little things he had to call his own.

“You and Nesta... you seem close” he tried to appear nonchalant, laying the ground for his intention of gathering Kaelin’s aid.

“She’s nice” he answered, pushing the stray curl away again.

“How has she been? Has she been going out a lot?” Cassian cringed internally at how desperate he sounded, but he could not deny how worried he was that Nesta was not back when it was beginning to darken.

“I’ve know Nesta for two, three months at most”.

“And?” Cassian inquired.

“She does not eat much. Started going out recently” Kaelin eyed him in suspicion “I don’t know if I should be talking with you, sir, about her. I know that I wouldn’t like to have someone talking about me behind my back. Specially with someone who had left me alone for months”.

Cassian realised that, in this conversation, he was the enemy. Kaelin knew Nesta, but had no reason whatsoever to trust Cassian, ranks in the army be damned.

“I was busy. Commander stuff” he didn’t want to talk about how a civil war was most likely to happen.

Kaelin’s only answer was to raise an eyebrow in question, an act that reminded Cassian so much of Nesta that he was momentarily thrown back. Was his idea about to go down the drain before he had even tried it out?

“I wouldn’t have left if wasn’t really necessary”.

“I didn’t doubt you” Kaelin said, the corners of his mouth raising slightly.

Cauldron, he couldn’t believe how he was being played by a teenage boy.

“And I guess I know what you’re trying to do” Kaelin commented, gathering the book, tucking the piece of paper inside it and pocketing the pencil.

“If you know it, then are you willing to be my helping hand?” Cassian remembered why he usually stuck with training the younglings. They didn’t have smart comebacks.

“I cannot possibly train Nesta. I only know the basics I’ve learnt as a kid. But you sir, are a legend” Kaelin’s eyes sparked in admiration.

Mikael had told Kaelin stories about the Commander of the Illyrian armies. Of how an orphan who was supposed to be a foot soldier had the biggest killing power in Illyria’s history.

“I’m willing to do anything to make Nesta happy” Kaelin’s expression saddened “She is not doing well. And I own her my life. It’s the minimum I can do”.

“Thank you. I think she’d listen more to you than me” Cassian stretched his wings “First things first then kiddo. Could you tell me where she is? It’s getting late and she should have someone accompany her back”.

Kaelin gave him a wide smile, and before Cassian could do anything, got airborne.

“Don’t worry about it!! I always walk Nesta back!!”

And with a last goodbye shout, Kaelin flew away to meet Nesta at Cauldron knows where, leaving Cassian no option but to enter the house and get dinner ready.

~•~

To say dinner had been awkward was an understatement.

Cassian didn’t remember ever being so tongue tied before. Nesta had also kept quiet for most of the meal. Kaelin, however, did enough talking for both of them.

The kid had completely lost all shyness regarding Cassian, although he still added ‘sir’ sometimes when it seemed he was going overboard. Keeping his word to help Cassian with Nesta, Kaelin had talked nonstop about the things that had happened in those two months. Cassian learned that Nesta cooked quite well — “Illyrian culinary is different from high Fae but she learned so fast! It didn’t even feel like the food had been kept in the ice box for so long!” — and that she also knew how to sew — “She fixed all my clothes! They fit perfectly now! It feels as if they’re brand new!”.

Cassian would be pleased to just sit there and listen to Kaelin praise Nesta and tell all her hidden abilities, but he saw the way her pointed ears were getting pink and how she stuffed food in her mouth to avoid getting asked more questions. So he changed topics to Kaelin’s training, and he swore he saw Nesta silently thank him by the way her grey blue eyes softened.

The rest of the dinner run smoothly. He was also relived to see Nesta getting a second helping of food. Cassian could bet that she had not had lunch and, as a result, was starving.

He had made rice with cooked vegetables, along with fish seasoned with baniwa, a pepper based sauce. He had also left some fish without baniwa, not knowing whether Nesta liked her food spicy or not. He was happy to see that she choose the fish with the sauce and decided to stick with solid food, not taking any of the Imu Yanisa Kiyauriri he had offered, in case her stomach was not well.

After quietly washing the dishes while Nesta dried them — she had just gotten up and grabbed the kitchen rag, not sparing him a glance as she took the clean plate from his hand — Cassian locked himself in his room, hoping to get a good night’s sleep.

However, lucky was not on his side. He tossed and turned on his bed for hours, until finally giving up sleep and moving to his desk to go over the training schedule and other minor documents. Maybe work would tire him out enough to get maybe three or four hours of sleep.

Cassian was in the middle of a report regarding the preparations for the Blood Rite when he felt a shiver running down his spine. A faint sensation of panic came forth, and he was momentarily thrown back. Shrugging it off as fatigue, he turned back to the paper. But the sensation did not disappear. Had someone gotten over the wards somehow?

“Oh, screw this” he cursed, raising from his chair and opening his bedroom door.

Looking in the living room’s direction, he saw Kaelin completely passed out in the couch, sleeping on his stomach, his wings twitching in his sleep and drooling. The kitchen was clear as well, the same with the outdoor patio and the bathroom. The sensation got fainter, and he almost gave up when he walked by Nesta’s bedroom.

Cassian felt that panic rise within him once again. Felt that sensation of dread and helplessness knock him with full force. Without thinking, he opened her door, all reason flying out of his head to knock or call her from outside. Once inside, the first thing he notice was how cold the room was. She had not lit the fireplace, but it for sure was not due to lack of firewood. Why had she chosen to bury herself under multiple fur blankets then?

Second thing he took notice of was that said blankets had been thrown to the floor. And that Nesta was painting, fists tightly closed beside her body.

“Nesta...” Cassian breathed, slowly approaching the bed. He could see her eyes moving frantically under eyelids. The sensation was stronger now, threatening to consume him. He could not imagine how Nesta felt. Tried not to think why he also felt it.

“No...get away...” she murmured feverishly in her sleep “Take me. Take me instead”

Cassian smelled smoke, and he realised that Nesta’s fists were burning the sheets were they touched, her skin damp with sweat.

“Ness....” Cassian knew that you should not wake up someone when they were having a nightmare, not when they were letting their power lose. That indicated that the person had lost all sensation of reality and imagination, and could hurt whoever approached them. But Cassian could not see her suffering and just do nothing.

Gently, he kneeled beside her bed, and tentatively run his thumb across her forehead.

“You’re safe Nesta. Breath.” he murmured, bringing his other hand to her clenched fists, squeezing in reassurance, the fire around them not hurting him.

“It’s my fault...my fault” she whimpered, and sorrow and guilty hit Cassian just like earlier.

“Shhh.... Nobody can harm you” his thumb kept caressing her, trying to transmit comfort through his touch.

“I’m sorry...” she took a sharp breath, and Cassian could feel she tremble slightly.

“Nesta. Nesta.” he willed her hand to open, clutching it on his “Hush now xe r-endy, I’m here. Îebyr pe ixê.”

He kept talking in Illyrian, and she started to calm down, her breath coming in regularly and some tension leaving her body.

“That’s it sweetheart. You’re safe” Cassian tucked the blankets over Nesta, getting her comfortable.

“Cassian...stay” she grabbed his hand, eyes half open and laced with sleep, her strange and mysterious power faintly shinning on them.

“I will stay until you fall asleep” he replied.

And Cassian spent the rest of the night and early morning sitting on her bedroom floor. Holding her hand. And when the first of rays of sunlight appeared, he let go of her hand.

And he left Nesta’s room.

•

Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arin1030-blog @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @allilal

{Please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list.}

[amostimprobabledream]

And He Walks With Flames (Dabi x Reader) - Part One

They say humans, in a strange, ironic twist of fate, owe their magic to demons. A thousand years ago, they walked the earth, wreaking destruction and chaos wherever they tread. Humans were no more than meat for the slaughter, or glorified playthings for their amusement. The first generation of humans to fight back against their monstrous oppressors did so by a peculiar, ancient magic. A power that could repel demons and bring hope to all humanity. A terrible war raged for the fate of the world and the humans managed to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. The demons were banished to their land of origin, sealed away in defeat. But seals don't last forever. While historians argue on how literal these legends may be, there is no denying that ancient creature have begun to stir, appearing in our world again with growing frequency. And soon there might- The last paragraph was torn away. "Oh, for god's sake," you tsk. Sunlight pours through the large, high window of your lecture room, dust motes dancing in the golden rays. Though you were engrossed in your book, once you look up, the spell is broken, and the clear sky outside once again has your eyes wandering to it. It seems that you are not the only one getting distracted, either - even the professor keeps tapering off at the promise of an afternoon outside in the gorgeous spring weather. "Well," the professor says, shuffling the papers in front of her. "That's all for today. Please revise over the material and we'll discuss it in further detail next time. You are all free to go." You're only too happy to comply, putting your things away and scrambling to your feet. Everyone else is hurrying to get outside, pouring down the stairs to the doors, chattering to one another as they go. Normally you love going to lectures, but it's just too nice outside to be cooped up indoors. You push open the doors and step outside, a muted sigh of pleasure leaving your mouth. Your university, the Royal Academy of Magic, has the reputation for being tough, but so far, you've been enjoying the work. Learning about the different faces of magic, its uses, and the history of it, it's all so very fascinating to you. You've been able to use magic since you were young, but it's studying it here that will really help you unlock your true potential, and hopefully give you a concrete idea of what to aim for with your career. So far there are so many options a magic-user might do that it's been a little overwhelming trying to decide. As you cross the lawns, grass crunching beneath your feet, you decide to swing by your dorm first to drop off your books - they may contain a lot of knowledge, but damn if they're not heavy - your mother pointed out that you've developed something of a slouch since you started studying here. "I'm back!" you call as you push open the door of your dormitory. "Huh?" Kendou looks up from her bed, where she has a couple of books sprawled out next to her head, notes scribbled in the margins of her notebook as she looks over her textbook. Her red hair spills down her shoulder, coming loose from its signature ponytail. "You're back early!" "Yeah, they let us out sooner than I expected," you reply with a shrug and a small laugh, dropping your bag on your own bed and stretching, wincing as a kink in your shoulder pops. "Oh, well, that's good timing, someone came by earlier with a message for you," Kendou says, pushing herself up into a sitting position, apparently deciding your arrival is a good a reason as any to take a break from studying. "Your mother wants you to go down to the Imperial Research Centre to get your father." "Did she come by here?" you ask in surprise. Normally your mother arranges to meet you after lectures or seminars if she wants to see you during the week, and she's a rather busy woman besides. "No, she left a message at the front desk and someone passed it along," Kendou shrugs. "But she also said you guys are doing something tonight, right?" "Oh, yes, I'd forgotten all about that!" you say, feeling silly that it could

possibly have slipped your mind - you love it when you get to go out for a meal with your parents and often it means one of them has some exciting news to share. "Thanks, Kendou, I'll head over there now." She grins and gives a little wave. “No problem!” You suppose it's fortunate that the Imperial Research Centre is only a short walk from the campus and that you're very familiar with the place, since your father's been working there for so long. Anyway, it's a pleasant walk, the way there is lined with rows of trees that are only a week or two away from growing from dark to light pink and shedding their blossoms. When the street is in full bloom, it's like there's been a wedding. You even find yourself humming as you walk, breathing in the subtle smell of flowers on the breeze, wondering to yourself if the blossom trees were planted before or after the buildings were founded, but either way, whoever was responsible for them made a good call. The Imperial Research Centre is a peculiar building, made of blue stone and with a roof that boasts four conical points, one in each corner, making it resemble a castle from bygone days just plopped in the middle of the city. There's an aura of mystery to it, too, hinting at the all-important, life-changing work that’s always going on inside. If ever cutting-edge technology is released to the public, odds were that the Centre had a hand in making it. The building is cooler on the inside than it is outdoors, powered by a system designed to spread cool or warm air throughout the entire building, depending on the system. You approach the front desk, wishing that you'd thought to bring a jacket, because it’s always cold in here during the warm seasons, and the receptionist glances up on you with a slightly dismissive expression on her face. It's probably because she thinks you're an overeager student or some hapless intern, it's very rare a researcher your age would be able to work here. "May I help you?" the receptionist asks in a cool, professional tone. "Yes, I'm here to see my father," you reply. "He's one of the vice executives here." You give his surname, and the woman pauses. Is that a trace of nervousness you can see? "He's downstairs in Containment Room 1A," she says, checking a sheet of paper on the desk, which is littered with various papers, random pieces of stationary and one of those magitech intercom systems that they use. They have something similar at the Academy too, though of course, the Centre get the most high-tech version of everything. "All right, thanks," you say, turning to head for the elevator. "Wait!" the woman cries out and you glance back, confused. "I'm sorry, but you can't just walk through here, especially to the lower levels! You don't have the clearance and it can be dangerous." You scoff in disbelief. You have visited your father here before, many times, and this has never been a problem for you before. You always just tell them who you are and then get a visitor's pass. You even know some of the codes to the doors, thanks to waiting around for your father to finish work so often. "Well, please can you have someone go fetch him for me?" you ask, going to reluctantly perching on one of the chairs in the waiting area. "Can't it wait?" the receptionist asks impatiently, and maybe it can, but her attitude is starting to piss you off, so you shoot her a frosty smile you've perfected after watching your mother pull a similar face at people who don't meet her standards. "No, it can't." The woman sighs but she dutifully presses a button on the intercom system and speaks quietly into it for a moment or two, while you idly pick at a loose thread on the chair you're sitting on. She then glances back at you, eyebrows raised. "A messenger has been sent down to speak to him. Hopefully he should be upstairs shortly." "Thank you so much." you reply sweetly, the last words with heavy emphasis. After that, the two of you sit in a mutually frosty silence, with the woman sorting through paperwork on her desk and occasionally

directing people who approach her desk to the correct floor (which seems redundant to you - why can't people just read the clearly printed sign on the wall next to her desk ?), while you flick through some glossy magazines without actually taking in a single word. But you're not leaving until you've spoken to your father. Minutes tick by and you start drumming your heel lightly on the floor, leg jiggling with impatience. You wonder if the woman just lied about sending a messenger down to the Containment Room in an effort to pacify you, in the hopes you'll just get bored and leave. You grit your jaw at the thought, ignoring how cold you're getting, sitting here doing nothing. After maybe ten minutes, a man in a lab coat approaches the front desk, leaning over to speak to the woman. "Kino, could you come with me a moment? Hannah can start her shift." "Oh, I'll be right there!" Kino says, flustered, getting out from behind the desk and following the man as he walks briskly down the corridor, without a backwards glance at you. No doubt her replacement will be along any moment - perhaps she's running late? But you don't plan on sticking around. As soon as the receptionist rounds the corner, out of sight, you spring up and walk briskly across the room to the elevators, stabbing the button and stepping through the doors. You don't bother to fight the smile that spreads across your face as the doors slide shut. ~ "Father?" There's always something slightly creepy about the lower floors. The orbs lining the walls that are designed to keep the machinery running in case of a power shortage cast an eerie glow in the corridors, washing everything with a pale blue light that makes it seem far colder than it actually is. It reminds you a bit of walking through a tunnel of ice. Your boots click on the stone floor as you follow the lights to Containment Room A1. Finally, you reach the double doors leading inside, flanked by two windows each side. You can see your father inside, his back to you, so you rap on the windows. Nothing. You try again with more force, hurting your knuckles, but he still doesn't turn around. Perhaps it's soundproofed, so whatever's out here can't disturb whatever's going on in there? You glance at the keypad next to the doors, but you've never been to this particular room before so the code for the doors on the upper level is unlikely to be the same one for down here. Then you see movement, shadows beneath the crack between door and floor, and the doors slide open with a mechanical swish and two scientists in lab coats come out, comparing notes and murmuring together excitedly. You slip inside before they can slam shut again, unwilling to stand outside in the chilly corridor for any longer than necessary. "Father!" you call out as you enter. But then you stop dead in your tracks. Ahead of you, trapped behind some kind of containment field...is a monster. "What-?!" you hear your father say in surprise at his daughter suddenly marching through the doors. "What are you doing in here?!" But you don't answer. You can't look away from what's in front of you, even if you wanted to. You know without being told that this is a demon, but it's certainly not what they looked like in any of your history books. A tall, humanoid being that is undoubtedly male and you can tell from where you’re standing that he’s tall. The demon's huge, black wings arch out from behind him, reminding you of a bat. Two horns jut out from a crown of spiky black hair, but aside from that, you're surprised by how… human he looks. Your cheeks warm up as you notice he is shirtless, peculiar burn marks covering over half of his body and seemingly crudely stitched together like a patchwork doll. Despite that, he's impressively sculpted, sinewy muscles on full display and you know that demons were said to be uncommonly strong. Your eyes drift further down, and you spot a whiplike tail wrapped around one leg, topped with a pointed barb at the end, like a club in a game of cards. His arms are in restraints and so are his

ankles, yet he doesn't seem stressed in any way, leaning against the back wall of his holding cell as though he's waiting for something. "What...is this?" you breathe out, finally turning to your father. "This is our latest research subject," your father replies beside you, also staring at the demon, though his expression is surprisingly somber, considering just how amazing it is that they have been able to capture and contain a demon. You've never seen a live demon before, and something tells you that the one before you certainly isn't any garden variety one. "Director Fuji is very excited about this. It's not every day you see a demon this high ranking." Slowly, the demon stirs, raising his head a little. You're perfectly safe outside the containment field, as well was the multiple other safety measures both inside the cell and out of it, yet the sensation of being watched makes your flesh break out in goosebumps. From beneath spiky fronds of hair, the demon's eyes - so blue they almost don't look real - stare right at you, his gaze alone rooting you to the spot, laying all your defenses bare and leaving you feeling bizarrely naked before that look. Watching you without once blinking or breaking his gaze, his lips part in a sneer to reveal two rows of teeth, the fangs sharp and white as an icicle. You find yourself holding your breath as your father speaks again. "Sweetheart, meet Dabi."

[dhwty-writes]

A Health Hazard

This took a lot longer to write than it had any right to. The first 1.5k words were written in under 2 hours, the rest in thrice that time. I'm done with today and this prompt. Written for day 3: Reading by the fire/cuddling by the fire of @witcher-and-his-bard‘s winter prompts Have fun!

Summary: Geralt of Rivia is bored. This hasn't happened in forever. Literally. He learns to understand Jaskier's whining a lot better. 

Warnings: none, besides the fact that this is unedited

Read on AO3

All things considered, it had taken a surprisingly short time for the impossible to happen. Apparently, all that it took was three weeks. Three weeks cooped up in Jaskier's generously-sized lodgings in Oxenfurt with nothing to do and lo and behold, Geralt of Rivia was bored. Bored! Could you imagine that?

It hadn't been so bad in the beginning. After five days he finally hadn't felt the need to rise with the sun and had let Jaskier kiss him goodbye, running late for a lecture, while he turned over and slept in. He couldn't remember when he had last done that. Truth be told, he couldn't remember if he'd ever done that.

Certainly not since he'd gotten to Kaer Morhen; there was no slacking in the witchers' keep. He briefly wondered if passing out after a fight and waking up days later could count as sleeping in. Probably not.

No, sleeping in was something for the safe and comfortable, and for the first time since he could think Geralt could count himself among them. All thanks to Jaskier, of course, who did his best to spoil his lover rotten. All on the cost of the Oxenfurt Academy, naturally.

The Academy spared no cost or effort to ensure the comfort of their lecturers—and Jaskier wasn't just any lecturer, he was probably the most popular bard on the continent. Geralt had first realised that Jaskier was rich when he had seen his personal study, stocked with books right up to the ceiling. Most of them were beautiful leather-bound tomes, written by hand with detailed pictures. He had felt a bit faint when discovering that some of them were in the second row.

No matter what Jaskier said about gifts from colleagues and magical innovations called a printing spell, books were immeasurable luxuries. And the bard owned close to a hundred of them. Personally.

Still, Geralt had been hesitant, at first, to make use of the private bath that came with the four-room apartment, or to call upon a servant to fetch him things. That was until Jaskier had told him outright how much they paid him for a single lecture, let alone several of them each day for months. If they were willing to pour that much money down the drain, he couldn't really feel bad about it.

So, the following days and weeks Geralt allowed Jaskier to teach him how to enjoy himself. He learned how to sleep in, indulged in almost daily baths, spent his days reading novels and poems out of Jaskier's personal collection. He didn't protest when the bard ordered too much food. Didn't comment on the overabundance of sweets—he even admitted he liked it. And when Jaskier asked for too exotic spices he only raised his eyebrows.

Once he had even ventured into the extensive Academy library—Geralt had never seen so many books in one place in his entire life—to find a collection of chivalrous legends Jaskier had told him about. He had been welcomed by an overly polite librarian, who had gone ahead to recommend him a dozen other books with the same topic, complete with annotations noting upon all the different possible interpretations. And if that hadn't been enough, he had been offered to take them with him. All of them. At once. As long as he liked. With no credentials but the name "Pankratz". He couldn't fathom how the library hadn't been robbed empty yet. When he had told Jaskier so, he had only laughed and kissed him gently, calling him a silly witcher.

It all had culminated when later that day, after Jaskier had ordered their dinner to be brought up to their rooms, it had been Geralt to stop the servant by the arm and ask for a bottle of wine.

"Right away, sir," the servant had answered. "Do you have any preferences?"

"Umm-" After a quick glance back to Jaskier, who had smiled encouragingly, he had added: "Est Est?"

He had half expected to be reprimanded, but the servant had only looked at him as if that had been obvious. "The year, sir. Do you have any preferences for the year?"

"I hear 1260 was especially good," Jaskier had piped up and that had been the end of that. They had had a very nice evening and an even nicer night, albeit neither of them had gotten a lot of sleep.

The problem was that since then over a week had passed. Geralt had read through all the books he had borrowed and leafed through a number of volumes of Jaskier's personal collection. He wasn't feeling like reading anymore. He had visited several taverns to play Gwent, but that too was interesting only for so long.

He had taken Jaskier up on his offer and accompanied him to a few lectures, but that had grown boring, too. Of course, he could talk about his adventure and the content of the poems, but that wasn't what Jaskier and his students were talking about. Instead, they lead very heated discussions about rhymes and metaphors and what Jaskier called a meter ("It's like a rhythm, Geralt."). But in the end, he didn't care if the rhyme was a pair or not, or if the rhythm was an asbestos or a dromedary or something.

He flopped down on the couch with an uncharacteristically dramatic sigh. Jaskier had returned from his last lecture an hour ago and was now holed up in his study doing... something. As if him being away all day wasn't bad enough, he had to continue working afterwards!

Geralt sat up with a start. Shit, was that how Jaskier felt all year round on the Path? It was a horrifying thought; no wonder the bard was so whiny all the time. Well, Geralt was different. He certainly wouldn't stoop so low. No, he definitely wouldn't whine.

 ~*~

 "Jaskier," Geralt whined from his place on the extra armchair they had acquired the previous day. "Are you done yet?"

The poet mouthed some words along while he frantically scribbled them down on yet another snippet of parchment. "Almost, darling, give me a minute," he muttered absentmindedly just like he had half an hour ago.

Geralt threw his head back and groaned loudly. He was going mad; he was sure of it. It was not normal for people to go such a long time without someone charging at them with swords or claws or dirty underwear. It could not be healthy. "D'you think I should talk to Shani?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jaskier mumbled under his breath, flipping through the hundreds of pages of notes he was keeping.

"Hmm." So Jaskier agreed that boredom was a serious health hazard. He drummed his fingers on the armrest. Maybe he should go do it right away?

He got to his feet and was almost at the door when he halted. No, it was late already, sundown a few hours past. He walked back to the armchair. But maybe-

"Geralt," Jaskier said with a heavy sight and put down his pen. "Love. You're pacing." 

"Really?" The witcher grit out. "Wouldn't have noticed."

"Can you just-" He rubbed at his temples. He looked incredibly tired. "I'm sorry, five more minutes, alright? Then we can do whatever you want, what d'you think of that."

"Hm." Geralt thought that was bullshit and that Jaskier should take a break.

But the poet was too engrossed in his own mind to even hear it.

'Alright then,' he thought and sat back down, arms crossed. 'Five more minutes.' He could manage five minutes of meditation. Easily.

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, waiting for the calm to settle over him. What followed were probably the longest five fucking minutes of Geralt's life.

No sooner were they over that his eyes snapped open and he rushed over to his bard, holding him close from behind and nuzzling against his neck.

Jaskier chuckled softly. "Hello there. Five minutes over already?"

"Yes," Geralt said resolutely. "What're you writing anyways?" he asked, trying to peer over his bard's shoulder.

Still scribbling, Jaskier answered: "A novel, dear."

"A novel?" he replied and pulled back a little. "Since when?" Jaskier never wrote novels. Songs and poems, yes, and on one memorable occasion a play, too, but they had both agreed that it was horrid and that he should stick to shorter stuff.

He shrugged and slammed the piece of paper onto one of the piles. Apparently, there was an order to the chaos. "The day before yesterday, I think? Didn't really pay attention."

Geralt snorted. That went without saying. "Please tell me you didn't write all that in-"

Jaskier gasped softly and pulled up another sheet of paper. "Shh, give me a minute, love, else I'll forget this sentence. Oh fuck, this is so good-"

He bared his teeth. "You said-"

"Please, Geralt," Jaskier begged. 'Fuck.' The cursed bardlet knew damn well that he couldn't resist him; not with the pure desperation in his voice.

So, Geralt contented himself with grumbling displeased and pressing his nose against Jaskier's neck, while he waited for the scratching of the quill on paper to finally subside.

Thankfully, it didn't take too long for Jaskier to slam the quill down and forcefully push the paper away. "Done," he declared, exhaustion plain in his voice. "I'm done for today."

He raised his eyebrows. "You sure?"

"Y-yeah. I'm sure." The tiny pause was enough for Geralt to know that, no, Jaskier wasn't done in the slightest. If not for him the poet would probably stay up until the early hours of morning, crafting one masterful line after the other. Until he'd inevitably collapse from the exhaustion, smudging the ink of his uppermost sheet of paper all over his face.

He couldn't fathom how much self-control it cost Jaskier to turn around and ask: "So, what is bothering you so terribly, my beloved witcher?"

Geralt glared at him defiantly. It took him all of three seconds to cave. "I'm bored," he complained and frowned.

The effect was instantaneous and his expression grew soft. "Oh, my dear, I'm terribly sorry."

There was something about Jaskier's voice, something about his touch, about the way he brought Geralt close for a gentle kiss. Something that made him go from wanting to believe his words so badly to actually believing them.

The smile on his bard's face was nothing short of adorable when he asked: "Anything I can do about it?"

"Hm." Well, he could think of quite a few things to bide their time.

Before he could voice any of them, though, Jaskier continued: "Yeah, that's what I thought." He stood up and took his hand. "Come on, Geralt, I'm dead on my feet. Let's get somewhere more comfortable, then we can figure that out."

He gladly let himself be led. As long as it meant spending time with Jaskier, he was hardly about to object. The poet flitted around their apartment, collecting pillows and blankets, while he sent Geralt off to heat the kettle and get them some tea, all the while humming with excess energy.

Not fifteen minutes later Geralt found himself on the floor in front of the fireplace with a lapful of bard who was cursing quietly whenever he sipped his too-hot tea and inevitably burnt his tongue. Geralt couldn't help but smile as he cradled his Jaskier closer to his chest.

"What's your novel about?" he whispered into his ear.

"Oh, it's a romance!" he replied cheerfully.

Geralt pulled back, a horrible thought dawning on him. "Jaskier...," he growled. "Please tell me you're not writing a romance novel about us."

"Well," the poet drawled and Geralt groaned. So that was a yes. "I am not writing about Geralt of Rivia, the witcher, and Jaskier the bard."

"But?"

"But it might be that the two protagonists are a chivalrous monsterslayer and his loyal painter companion."

"Jaskier...," he pleaded even though he knew it was useless.

"What? In my defence, it was you who dragged in the knightly ballads!"

"Hm." That was a shit defence and they both knew it. Unwilling to start an argument, though, he just pulled Jaskier closer against his chest and leaned his forehead against his shoulder. "Tell me more."

And tell him more he did. Thank the gods it was so easy to get Jaskier rambling. He told him about the two protagonists, Eric and Dandelion, who had met shortly after the artist had abandoned the court; he had been living at, to find real inspiration out in the world. He was, apparently, entirely insufferable and a notorious womanizer-

"What?" Geralt interrupted him with a quiet chuckle. "Next you tell me he set out into the world to draw nude portraits of all his lovers."

"Oh no!" He felt Jaskier tense up before even the lament had left his mouth. "Oh, fuck, Geralt, that's brilliant, I-" His mouth snapped shut. His eyes flitted around nervously as he was obviously contemplating what the worse fate was: abandoning his lover or risking the loss of an idea.

Geralt quickly made the decision for him as he opened his arms. "Go on, bard," he said with a soft smile. "Write it down before it's gone again." He had lived with Jaskier long enough to become well acquainted with all of his sorrows.

The smile he got in return was almost worth it. "You're the best, I love you, I'm so sorry," he blabbered, scrambling to his feet. He pecked him on the mouth with a quick: "Be right back."

'No, you won't,' Geralt thought adoringly as he watched him bolt to his desk. "Just bring something to write with when you do!" he called after him and leaned back against the couch. He couldn't quite bring himself to wipe the lopsided grin off his face.

It was going to be a long winter. But he wouldn't have it any other way.

[mnthpprt]

Chapter 45: Skeletons In The Garden

It has been almost a week since I decided to give William a chance. More than that, I decided to earn his trust, no matter what it took. I think I am succeeding so far, but there is a price I have to pay. With every day we spend together in town, with every night we join our bodies into one, we become closer. Just as I have gained his trust, he is beginning to gain mine. I have to constantly remind myself why I came here, but then he looks at me with that smile, that light in his eyes... It takes all my effort not forget the reason I agreed to be with him in the first place.

I sleepily stumble around the kitchen in search of the jar of ground coffee, wearing nothing but William’s dressing gown. I borrowed it again last night to head back to my bedroom and fell asleep in it. Though the sleeves are way too long for me, the fabric is luxurious and soft, and I have taken up the habit of stealing it after our nightly activities.

A few minutes ago, William woke me up without bothering to knock on my door.  He said we were going somewhere, but did not explain any further. I was too tired to ask. Though it is not that early, I have been having more trouble sleeping than usual, and I have the feeling it has nothing to do with my new vampiric condition. Fuck, this man drives me insane in every way possible: I either want to kiss him, break his nose, or both. That last one gets very confusing, and usually ends up involving lots of bites from me, out of anger, and from him, in retaliation. 

I pour a cup for him before taking my coffee up to my bedroom. I stare at my clothes, which are laid out on the bed, as I drink it. I have been putting off returning to the mansion for my stuff, but I do need more dresses. I would also like to resume my research, so I’ll have to borrow some books for that.

When I return downstairs, empty cup in hand and hair loosely braided, William is waiting for me on the sofa. He offers me a bottle of rouge, and I pet Puck as I take it.

“Today is the troupe’s day off,” I observe.

“I know,” he simply replies. Where is he taking me? As if he could read my mind, he smiles and sips his rouge before explaining. “Dost thou remember how I wanted thee to meet someone?”

I nod, but narrow my eyes as the implication sinks in. Either he really trusts me enough to introduce me to his deranged accomplice, or this is his way to get rid of me once and for all. Sure, he has been nothing but charming and sweet since I moved into his house, but this is William. If there is a God, even He doesn’t know what he’s plotting.

An hour later, our carriage pulls up next to an old church. From the outside, I see no signs of it being used. It looks rather abandoned. However, as we approach the entrance, I catch the scent of burning candles, meaning there must be people inside. What is this place?

The wooden door creaks loudly when William pushes it open, just enough for us to pass through. Once inside, he closes it behind us.

“Please lock that, will you?” a man’s voice chimes from the altar. I cannot see him, but I hear glass tinkering behind the decorative screen in the back.

“Do not worry, we shall be quick,” William says, but obliges anyway. Great, now I am trapped here with a stranger who might have killed me.

He takes my hand and guides me down the nave. Our steps echo ominously under the high stone arches, and I have to take a deep breath to relax. Do not show them you are nervous, Anaïs, for they might take it the wrong way. For God’s sake, act normal.

We walk past the altar and into the ambulatory, where the stranger in question seems to have set up a lab of sorts, packed with all kinds of flasks, beakers, and, uh... medical equipment. Creepy. He is slightly taller than William, slender and dressed in clothing as black as his hair, and wears glasses with a chain around his neck.

“What do we have here?” he asks with a malicious grin that gives me shivers. He has a mild German accent. “Is this the neophyte you mentioned? She would make a fine guinea pig...”

“No, thank you.” He raises an eyebrow at my quick reply, while William chuckles and wraps his arm around my waist.

“My nightshade, this is Johann Georg Faust. Johann, meet Anaïs.”

“Faust like the legend?”

“The very same,” William smiles.

“Oh. Nice to meet you, I guess. So, um... What are you doing there?” I ask, pointing at the collection of scribbled on papers and lab equipment.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, fräulein Anaïs. I am sure you would find my experiments rather tedious...”

I ignore the condescending tone of his answer. A sculpture behind him has caught my eye. Faust interrupts his deceivingly polite excuse when I march past him to approach it.

“Oh, hell no,” I mumble. “María, cariño, ¿qué te han hecho? (Mary, honey, what have they done to you?)”

 I reach up to touch the Virgin’s gilded coat and, sure enough, the gold leaf crumbles in my fingers, leaving behind a glittery mess. I turn to the bespectacled man, only for my look of indignation to be met with his, equal parts intrigued and offended.

“She’s falling apart! See?” I show the golden dust on my palm to the two men. “I need to fix this before it gets-” Oh no he didn’t. Right beside Faust, on his work table, I see a clean rag neatly folded beside a bottle of clear liquid. ‘Carbolic acid’, the label reads. I bring the cloth to my nose and immediately put two and two together. “You wiped it with phenol?!” I exclaim, incredulous, as I furiously wave the rag around. “I don’t know why you needed to disinfect poor Mary over here in the first place, but for fuck’s sake, don’t do it again. God, no wonder everyone hates this stupid century, y’all discover something and decide to use it for everything without ever thinking about what it might do.”

“Everyone?” William asks, confused.

“This century?” Faust says almost at the same time.

“In my line of work, I mean,” I explain, completely ignoring the second question. I am not sure how safe it would be for me to mention that I come from the future. “Seriously, the amount of damage I’ve had to undo is insane. Why you people use so many questionable compounds is beyond me. Can I borrow a scalpel?”

“You came through the door,” Faust states. Shit, I guess he knows about it.

“Yes, I’m from the future,” I sigh, before grabbing a scalpel myself, not bothering to wait for permission.

I return my focus to the sculpture and carefully examine it. The state it is in is poorer than I had previously noticed. Judging by the proportions, it looks gothic. That makes it around 300 years old at least. Though the passage of time has obviously taken its toll, I have no doubt that its degradation has been made worse by well-meaning yet ignorant attempts at preserving it. Or, in Faust’s case, by his attempt to prep the area for whatever freaky surgical shit he has going on here. I must admit, the fact that he allegedly sold his soul to the devil for knowledge does not exactly reassure me about his intentions.

“The year 2020, to be exact,” I continue as I awkwardly manoeuvre around the sculpture to scrape some paint and gesso off the back in order to check the state of the wood underneath. “I’m guessing you’re not a pureblood... Do you know how to use a shotgun, by any chance?” I ask casually without looking up from my delicate task.

“Is this about Salieri?” Judging by Faust’s tone, I can tell he is rolling his eyes. “That would be Charles,” he sighs. Whoever this Charles is, Faust sounds like a bored babysitter. He has no interest in the conversation whatsoever. “May I have my scalpel back? You’re going to blunt it.”

“I’m almost done.” I manage to cut a cross section just in time to see him approach and forcibly take the sharp object from my hand. I then make my way back to the work table and search for what I need, carefully holding the thin slice of wood and gesso between my fingers. “Do you have a... What are they called, those round looky things with the handle?”

“Magnifying glass,” William aids.

“Yeah, that. Actually,” I change my mind when I see a pile of neatly stacked glass slides, “I’m gonna take one of these. I forgot that microscopes already exist. Where is yours, anyway?”

“Safely locked away,” the alchemist deadpans. Oh well, it looks like I’ll have to save my sample for later, then.

William takes my hand and gently ushers me away from the improvised lab, I assume to stop me from annoying its owner any further. Though he acts polite, I can tell it is nothing more than a weak façade that could drop any second.

“My dearest,” he says, “we should move on to the reason of our visit?”

“Vlad, was it?” I nod. He merely mentioned the name in passing days ago, but I have hung onto that minuscule snippet of information like my life depends on it. It might.

He leads me to a discrete door nestled in the corner of the transept to our left. Before we can reach it, however, Faust calls out from behind the altar.

“I look forward to studying you, fräulein.”

“Well, I do not!” I sing in response. He lets out an unnerving chuckle that I decide to ignore.

I follow William through the door and up a dark staircase. As we walk along the hallway, I get the feeling that he does not know exactly where he is leading me, either. Still, he finds the person he was looking for inside a small room. It looks like it had been used for storage in the past, but now is completely empty save for a desk and a few chairs. The white haired man sitting on one of them looks up when we enter through the already open door. This must be him. The pureblood that is going after the residents.

He is strikingly beautiful, despite the unnervingly red shade of his eyes. Dressed in expensive clothes, he moves elegantly to greet me. I instinctively do the polite thing and offer my hand for him to hold.

“Anaïs Bertran, I presume?” His voice is slightly breathy, and as delicately controlled as his poise. “You are as beautiful as a rose.”

I do not dare to complain out loud, but I give William an exasperated look, causing him to laugh. I smack his arm.

“Stop being a dickhead,” I scold him, even though I have to hold back a smile.

“Ah, I see you have thorns as well,” the other man chuckles. “It is rare for such a pretty flower to be so foul mouthed. I must confess I appreciate it, it adds character. Was that some kind of joke between you two?”

“I guess you could call it that,” I sigh. “I just think there are more interesting flowers to be compared to.”

“Such as?” he prompts.

“I don’t know, lisianthus, dahlias... Sunflowers are pretty nifty, and I’ve always liked orchids. People tend to think they’re really hard to grow, for some reason, but they just need a bit of attention and the right amount of light. Chrysanthemums are also really cool...” I ramble.

“Those are an old favorite of mine, but not as much as roses, I’m afraid. Do you enjoy gardening?”

“Is it that obvious?” I chuckle, embarrassed. “But yeah, I worked as a florist for a few years.”

“Oh?” he smiles. “I own a flower shop in town. I sense we are going to get along well, Anaïs. Oh my, how rude of me! I forgot to introduce myself. You may call me Vlad.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” I politely say before tilting my head. “I have to say, I find it a bit strange to be here, speaking to you. I mean, you sent a sniper after Salieri to stop him from revealing your identity, yet here we are, being formally introduced,” I remark.

“Yes, I am well aware of the incident that took place. Quite a fortunate outcome you got, don’t you think?”

“If by fortunate you mean bleeding out in a sewer, then sure, but I beg to differ.” A cold smile accompanies my response. Not only did dying obliterate any semblance of a schedule I had, it also caused me to be turned into... this. I have nothing against vampires, but I’d rather not go through the pain of being a neophyte, or whatever these people call it. 

“Pardon my crudeness, but isn’t that what happens when you jump in front of a bullet that is not meant for you?” Vlad quips.

“Yeah... That is the stupidest thing I have ever done, can’t argue with that logic,” I mutter, resigned. “By the way, if you’re gonna play with gunpowder inside a tunnel, I’d recommend finding another one that isn’t full of highly flammable methane gas. Just a tip,” I wink.

Our tense exchange is interrupted by a knock on the door frame. Under it stands another man with a boyish smile and shaggy hair.

“I bought those strawberries you- Oh.” He pauses when he sees me, his eyes growing wide in recognition. “Hello there.”

“Are you Charles?” I innocently ask, approaching him. When he nods, I smirk. 

There is no warning when I grab his jacket and shoot my knee into his groin at full force. I hear William’s incredulous snort behind me, along with a muffled chuckle belonging to Vlad.

“Argh, putain!” Charles groans, folding over in pain. I observe him as I wait for him to recover. “Why?” he cries from the floor. I simply pull my dress down to reveal the scar on my cleavage. His mouth opens and closes quickly, not knowing what to say.

“Sorry, just had to get that out of my system,” I explain with no trace in my voice of the violence I just displayed. “I’m Anaïs,” I smile, offering my hand. He takes it, and I pull him to his feet. The boyish grin returns to his face as he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck.

“I am so sorry about shooting you, it was an accident. You jumped out of nowhere! I didn’t even want to in the first place, but- Ehem, sorry.”

I follow his gaze when he suddenly interrupts himself with a fake cough. Vlad’s eyes are slightly narrowed in what I can only assume is a look of warning. Okay, something’s going on. Well, yet another thing, on top of the long list of unexplained actions from this strange group of people.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say before the silence becomes awkward, “we’re even now.” I turn to the pureblood and look at him inquisitively. “Anyway, I have a lot of questions. I don’t want to judge until I know exactly what your intentions are for doing whatever it is you’re doing. I have to admit I am finding it hard to keep my emotions under control, so we better get on with it, yeah?”

I do not need to justify my volatile state. Vlad knows perfectly well that he was the one to cause it.

[flutteringphalanges]

                                        Caught in a Riptide 

Summary: After the infamous Count Dracula is discovered and taken into custody by the Jonathan Harker Foundation, former nun and now guardian to her young niece, Zoe, Agatha Van Helsing is tasked with keeping tabs on the vampire after a mishap leads to his release into modern day society. Can Agatha remain levelheaded, or will fate turn her onto a new path?

Pairing: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rated: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N:  Hello Dracula fandom again! It's me, ya gal, who has way too many story ideas in her head. Anyway, I hope you guys will enjoy this one! This first chapter is very heavy on backstory so I promise future chapters won't be like that. I just wanted to set the scene. Alright, here we go! Feedback’s greatly loved and appreciated!-Jen

                                                Chapter One

Theology. Quite an expansive, intriguing study that, like a tree, holds many branches. Biblical, Systemic, Practical, all subjects that have been delved into for centuries. Perhaps one of the more fascinating topics centers around Renaissance theology-more importantly, the possibility of a love bond between man and demon. Outwardly, the aspect of falling in love with something deemed evil is seemingly preposterous. But can a singular trait be forced upon another? At what point can romance, love, conquer these barriers? Is it possible to find humanity in such dark things? These questions must be kept in mind as two unlikely paths cross, testing these uncertain waters. A riptide.

Agatha set down a plate of eggs and bacon onto the table. It was early in the morning-a school day, and getting her niece ready and out the door in time to drop her off before heading into work was a task in itself.

For nearly three years, Zoe had remained under her care. It had been a tragic car accident that took the lives of her brother and sister-in-law, and seeing as they had no other family, Agatha left St. Mary's Convent to take in the seven year old. There were no regrets to be held. The woman dearly loved the child. But returning to society and seeking out a new job had been difficult. That was, until she found the Jonathan Harker Foundation. Or rather, they found her.

"Zoe," she called out, pouring a glass of orange juice. "Come on, we can't afford being late again today."

"I'm hurrying, Aunt Aggie," chirped a voice down the hall. "I was getting dressed!"

A small girl skidded into the kitchen, her mismatched socks causing her to nearly glide into the counter. Agatha grabbed her just in time, the drink in her hand dangerously close to sloshing onto the floor. Zoe peered up at her aunt with bright, blue eyes and a toothy grin. Her hair, the same shade of chestnut brown as her aunt's, still tousled from sleep.

"Were you planning to go into school today with your hair like that?" Zoe merely shrugged, sitting down happily to her breakfast. Agatha snorted softly, her mouth curving into a small smile. "Well, start eating and I'll grab a brush. "We don't want people to think you live in a zoo, yes?"

"I wanna live in a zoo," the child replied, biting into a piece of bacon. "I like animals!"

"Then perhaps we can get a dog one day," the woman chuckled, booping the girl on the nose. "Now finish your food so we can get on the road."

The Van Helsing surname held quite a history to it, the most notable member Abraham Van Helsing. The man was a well accomplished doctor, respected by all who knew him. However, Abraham's interests extended far past the average medical background. In particular, his study and expertise on vampirism. On the infamous Count Dracula of Transylvania.

The legend had been passed down from generation to generation. Tales recounted of the dangerous beast. Yet, as time wore on, the words had become a mere myth. Silly stories meant to scare a child into being good. Nevertheless, Agatha found them truly fascinating. Memorizing. And even the slightest idea that they were possibly true sparked a flame within her.

For those reasons alone, Agatha found herself taking the three vows of a nun and joining St. Mary's Convent. A thirst to learn more by combining her own knowledge and the teachings of Christianity. If her great, great grandfather was correct, then her efforts would not be in vain. That she wouldn't seem so air-headed as her brother had claimed from the beginning when she invested everything into proving Abraham's legacy.

It was only years later that she finally found the one thing that tied the loose ends. The Jonathan Harker Foundation. The very institution that was right under her nose. An organization that shared the same ideals to her cause. If only she had learned about the mysterious medical facility with an underground secret from the start, how different things might've been.

Agatha pulled up to the curb in front of the primary school watching as other children hopped out of their cars and headed towards the main entrance like a school of fish. In her rear view mirror, she caught sight of Zoe freeing herself from the confines of her seat belt, humming a nonsensical tune she'd just come up with.

"Do you have your backpack?" Her aunt inquired as the little girl swung it over her shoulders. "Lunch box?"

"Mhm," Zoe nodded, gripping the fabric handle of the floral decorated bag. "I made sure not to forget anything this time!"

"Good girl," Agatha smiled. She really didn't want to have to rush out of another meeting due to a call from the school that she'd forgotten to bring her food. "Kisses." Zoe gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Remember Mrs. Avery will be picking you up today."

"But I don't want to go to Mrs. Avery's," the girl whined. "She makes me watch The Price is Right and it's so boring!"

"Maybe she'll have cookies," the woman replied. "You like her cookies."

"I guess," Zoe answered, letting out a long, dramatic sigh. "You won't forget to pick me up?"

"I promise as soon as I get off, I will head straight over there," Agatha said with a smile. "Before dinner. I'll make something nice. Say...pizza?"

The young girl seemed to perk up a bit. "Okay!"

"Now run along, I'll see you later," she said as the child opened the car door. "I love you."

"Love you too!" Zoe called out as she exited the car. "Don't forget me!"

Forget. The more Agatha thought about it, the more it stung. Zoe had only just turned four when her parents died. She, of course, had still been in Budapest at the time, unaware until a few days later when someone finally contacted her. Apparently the girl had been in nursery school when the wreck happened. She'd watched all of the other children go home, confused as to where her mother and father were. Hours she spent there, waiting to be picked up. Believing that perhaps her they had forgotten her. Abandoned her. Zoe had been forced to learn about death early on. Something no child should ever have to face.

It had been rough, those first few months together. She and Zoe hadn't exactly been well acquainted, seeing as the former nun lived in Budapest while she called England home. Agatha didn't have a lot of experience with children and it showed in the beginning. Things were awkward. She didn't know popular shows, toys, activities, but she tried her damnedest. For Zoe. And with time and the compassion she held, the two eventually grew very close. After all, they were the only family each other had.

The parking lot outside of the institution was semi filled as Agatha, finding her usual shady spot, fished her identification badge out of her purse. She frowned at the photo on the key card, noting how ridiculous wide and unnatural her smile was. Why couldn't she ever get a decent picture right? Shaking her head, she exited the vehicle and headed inside.

"Good morning, Joe," Agatha smiled, nodding her head. "Ted."

The two lobby guards looked up from their hot drinks, their attention turning to the woman. Things had been slow, relatively speaking. Not much excitement had happened since Agatha became a part of the Foundation. Which, she supposed, in a way was good. But she craved true confirmation of Dracula's existence. A need to have real, physical evidence on top of everything she'd gathered from her own exploration.

The long stretch of hallway leading through the locked doors and into the belly of the building was rather bare. Except for a single portrait-that of Jonathan Harker. He had a kind face, soft expression that was welcoming. And yet, each time she came across it and gave it a hard stare, something didn't sit right. A strange, unsettling feeling that despite the friendliness of it was almost off putting.

"Agatha!"

Just as the former nun began to slide her card through the reader, a young man hurried up to her. Dr. Jack Seward. He, like her, had been hired around the same time by the Foundation. Fresh out of medical school, Jack was a brilliant man paired with a caring heart. She thought very fondly of him, almost as if he were a younger brother.

"Hello, Jack," she greeted. "I thought you were taking the day off today. Weren't you supposed to visit an old friend…" she paused. "Lucy was it?"

The man visibly flinched and Agatha was momentarily taken aback. Had she said something wrong? Before she could ask, or rather, apologize, another researcher came bursting through the set of doors. Very winded. Very excited. Meg.

"Oh, thank god," she panted. "You're finally here!"

"I didn't think I was running late," the former nun replied almost hesitantly, glancing over at Jack. "Did we have a meeting or…"

"No," Meg waved her hand, shaking her head. "No, we found something! Off of the mainland!" The researcher's smile was wide, a look of excitement that one does not usually see that early in the morning. "They sent out a team! They found it, Agatha!"

"Found what exactly?" She still wasn't quite following the other woman. "What did they find, Meg?"

"The Demeter! The wreckage! We bloody found it!"

For well over a century, The Harker Foundation had been searching for the vessel. It was believed, as a few survivors claimed, that Count Dracula had been one of the passengers onboard the ship set for England. But disaster struck, and mayhem with it, and the boat never made it to port. No one had known of its final location. Until now.

"What?!" Agatha asked in disbelief. "Are you-are they quite sure?!"

"It bloody says The Demeter on the side of it," Meg laughed. "I don't know what else it could be!"

She might as well have been a child on Christmas morning. Finally something. Evidence. A missing puzzle piece to it all. Someone was laughing and it took Agatha a moment to realize the noise was coming from her.

"What else have they found?! Any indication of Count Dracula? Are you currently in contact with them?" Agatha began to bombard the poor woman with questions. "Is Bloxham out there?"

"It's been over thirty minutes since they last radioed in," Meg responded. "Bloxham says they don't exactly know the extent of it. But they've begun to put markers down. The news is calling for a storm, so we might be forced to come in early and return tomorrow."

A storm. One hundred and twenty three years since The Demeter disaster and they were going to let a bloody storm step in their way of searching? The corners of Agatha's mouth twitched into a frown and suddenly she found herself wishing she was out there along with them. Her impatience was not allowing her to rationally consider the safety of it all. What exactly did the ship hold? And more importantly, where was Dracula?

"I want to be kept updated," she finally said, in the same firm voice she used to scold Zoe. "If anything happens, even the most minute detail, I want to be made aware."

Meg gave her a nod. "I'll keep you posted," she promised.

"Thank you," Agatha smiled, turning to Jack. "I suppose this is one for the books."

As the day wore on, the former nun's restlessness only grew as she anxiously awaited for any word from Bloxham and the rest of the crew. To distract herself, she tried to focus on her notes. It didn't help much, but at least it was something. Glancing at the clock, she was surprised to see it was nearly time for her to pick Zoe up. As much as she didn't want to go, she knew she must.

"Please keep me posted," Agatha said, gathering all of her things from off her desk. "I don't care if it's the middle of the night, wake me up."

"They'll be coming back in soon enough," Jack said, grabbing her key card before it fell to the floor. "I'm sure you won't miss anything."

"Nevertheless, I want to be in the loop," she replied, exhaling as she adjusted her belongings in her arms. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jack. Hopefully we'll have something."

Not in a million years would she have believed that her research on Count Dracula would've gone this far. Upon moving to England with Zoe, she wasn't quite sure what to expect until the day she received the life altering phone call. Evidently, it wasn't just Abraham Van Helsing who'd been hellbent on studying Count Dracula. Even more surprising was that he was at least aware of the construction of the institution and its purpose.

Bloxham had been the one to reach out to Agatha expressing her condolences. It was clear, though, that her intentions went further than mere well wishes. According to the head researcher, the Foundation had first contacted her brother, who immediately turned them down. He'd never believed in the existence of vampires and found the institution just as absurd as his sister. It was only when the former nun agreed to a position, that the Harker Foundation finally had a Van Helsing heir.

Agatha walked up to the front door of the tiny, blue house and wrapped three times. Almost immediately, it swung open and Zoe through her arms around her aunt's waist. She acted as if she hadn't seen the woman in years, much less a few hours. Old Mrs. Avery had just made it to the door by the time the little girl had grabbed her belongings.

"Aunt Aggie, I missed you," she exclaimed. "You didn't forget me!"

"I'd never forget you," Agatha smiled, patting the top of her head. "Were you good for Mrs. Avery?"

"She was very well behaved," the older woman smiled. "Why, we five episodes of The Price is Right together! I've never met someone who enjoyed it as much as I do."

"There were cookies," Zoe explained. "Can we go?"

"Tell Mrs. Avery thank you first," the former nun instructed, giving the other woman a smile. "Thank you, Jane."

"Of course. Anytime, Agatha," Mrs. Avery replied. "She's always a joy to have."

Zoe sang loudly, and off key to a pop song in the back seat as Agatha drove them home. At least she seemed to be in a pretty good mood. By the time she started dinner, the sun had already begun to set over the horizon.

"James Hopkins blew milk out of his nose today," her niece informed her as Agatha set a plate in front of her. "It was pretty cool. But then he got in trouble."

"Well I certainly hope you won't try doing the same," she exhaled, joining her at the table. "Did anything else happen today?"

"Hm…" Zoe pondered. "I painted in art!"

"Oh? What did you paint?"

"A toad," she answered, taking a bite out of her pizza. "I glued googly eyes to it."

Just as Agatha opened her mouth to reply, her cell phone rang. Excusing herself, she stood up and retrieved the device from where it sat on the counter. Her heart nearly skipped a beat when she saw the name on the screen. Jack Seward.

"Jack?"

"Zoe," came the voice on the other line. "They found him. They found Count Dracula."

[protag-rantaro]

"Confusion and Familiarity" Prologue [PART 3]

Written by the fabulous Mod Tai!

Where should I go next? Hmmm...

He looked around and noticed a big door at the end of the hall. Of course, he immediately walked towards the big door, but the moment he reached out- something held him back.

What is this? A deja vu?

Strange, I feel like I have been here before, but that's impossible, right? 

He overcame his own thoughts and tried opening the door, but it was locked.

Seems like I was wrong after all or…? 

He closed his eyes and stopped walking.

That's really not the time now. I should just move on. Next station are the stairs leading to the basement.

Rantaro headed down the stairs with caution and in the basement he found… a game room? and a new person! 

"Sheesh, what a strange place. Didn't expected a game room when we're trapped in here- hmm, but it seems pretty cool. Compared to prison anyway..." he turned around with a sigh. 

"Hm, I'm Ryoma Hoshi, the men called the Ultimate Tennis pro… no longer exists. I'm nothing more than an empty shell" he stared Rantaro directly into the eyes and he backed up a little. 

"Hey, Ryoma? Are you alright? Is there something you want to talk about?" Rantaro asked and reached out his hand, but Ryoma turned around uninterested. 

"No, it's nothing. It's not like me to talk so much… anyway, I'm warning you, little one- it's dangerous to just walk up to a killer like me" and with that he left and Rantaro was completely confused.

I guess, I should try to find out more about him when I get the chance. He seems very interesting like most I already met.

Now, let's see if I can remember the way to the library, because earlier nobody seemed to be in there, but maybe now someone is…?

Rantaro entered the library and looked around curiously. The library was really packed up with a lot of books and that made Rantaro a little happy. 

He enjoys reading a lot and since they probably won't be able to escape that easily he will have enough time to read a few books in here. While looking around he noticed a girl with long brown hair sitting on the ground.

"Hey, are you alright?" no answer.

"I'm Rantaro Amami and you?" the girl turned around and quietly watched him, before standing up from the ground.

"Maki Harukawa, Ultimate Child Caregiver..." Rantaro waited for her to continue, but nothing came.

Huh? That's all?

Maki seemed to have waited as well since she took a long pause before continuing.

"... surprised? I don't look like someone who would like kids, right? Because I don't. They just come on their own. I'm not good at taking care of them and I'm not friendly either..." she played with her ponytail a little before looking back at Rantaro. 

"But Kids are intuitive! If they like you so much to come on their own... they can probably tell that you're actually a good person, Maki!" Rantaro encouraged her and Maki blushed lightly at that comment.

"It's just…! I grew up in an orphanage and got saddled with helping out a lot, that's all!" she tried explaining and Rantaro kept on smiling, while listening. 

"Don't worry! I'm sure we will get out of here pretty fast!" a blonde girl walked around the corner together with Shuichi, who Rantaro parted ways with earlier.

"What makes you think that a group capable of this would just simply let us walk out of here?" Maki asked, not believing any word the blonde girl said.

"If they won't end this then we will! I know we can do it if we work together!" she placed a hand on her chest and smiled brightly.

Wow, she is hella optimistic and-

His thoughts got interrupted by the brown haired child caregiver.

"You're a naive fool if you think you can end all of this so easily" Maki pointed out and Rantaro nodded silently. She was indeed right about that.

Maki turned around to get the book she had read earlier and walked to another corner of the library.

"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Kaede Akamatsu, the Ultimate Pianist!" she smiled gently and they shook hands.

"Rantaro Amami and I know being optimistic can be really helpful, but do you really feel like this is going to end so easily? I mean, I asked the others and all of them can only remember their names and talents and I… I can only remember my name, not even my talent. It's like we all have amnesia or something like that" Rantaro explained and shared his observations with them, but Shuichi cut him off.

"... but that's not normal if everyone here has amnesia-" The detective was getting quieter and quieter by the second and Rantaro put his hands to his hips. 

"Maybe, we're all in a pretty abnormal situation then or something simple like brainwashing or group hypnosis...well, it doesn't matter now, does it?" Kaede took a step back in surprise and stared at him, waiting for him to continue talking.

"Well, I just hope we can get along since we won't go anywhere any time soon... sounds suspicious, but I promise I'm not a bad guy or anything" Rantaro ended his sentence, shrugged and left Shuichi and Kaede behind in the library. He still has to meet a lot of other people.

He stopped at a small gate and it seems like someone was already waiting there for him. They stood up from the bench they were sitting on and walked up to him.

"You wonder "who is this?" Yes, I will make that clear first. My name is Korekiyo Shinguji... I am called the Ultimate Anthropologist. However, please call me Kiyo and for anthropology, would you like a simple explanation?" Kiyo asked politely and Rantaro nodded clearly interested in what Kiyo has to share.

"Anthropology studies costumes, legends, folk tales, songs and much more. For example… certain aspects of birthdays or new year celebrations. It's a study that examines the thought behind culture, faith and costumes… and I believe that human beings are truly beautiful. Every aspect of humanity, even the ugly parts are beautiful- to me, at least" Rantaro listened carefully to Kiyo's little speech. 

He was truly interesting, maybe a little bit weird, but still interesting.

"What beauty will I be able to witness in our current situation, I wonder? Kehehee, people are wonderful!" 

"Wow, you sure are something else, Kiyo! But that's good, I'm sure it will never be boring with you- by the way my name is Rantaro Amami, nice to meet you" they both shook hands and chatted for a little bit, before Rantaro decided to finally step through the door he was curious about the whole time.

He opened it and was immediately greeted by a bright light, a gentle breeze and he slowly opened his eyes to see…

"A cage?" Rantaro said out loud. 

To be honest, not surprising.

I mean, I already knew it's not going to be easy to get out of here…, but giving up is not something I ever want to do.

Rantaro walked around and noticed two people in the back of the field. He quickly rushed over there to introduce himself.

"This cage is nothing compared to the universe!" One of them yelled and the taller one looked down in confusion. 

"Oh, ups! I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm Kaito Momota, Luminary of the stars! Even crying children adore the Ultimate Astronaut! How about it? Pretty cool, right? I mean I wasn't in space yet, but I'm the first teenager to ever pass the exam!" The purple haired male posed proud and the taller one clapped.

"Wow, really? Don't you need a college degree to even take the exam?" Rantaro interrupted their conversation and Kaito jumped in front of him with a huge grin.

"Actually yes, I had a friend who got me in there, but I got caught in the end and was like in pretty deep shit, y'know? But they decided they liked me and let me in anyway! Cuz I aced the exam, too" Kaito explained and he was a little speechless by Kaito's confession.

"That was pretty damn reckless, but it's really impressive as well!" Rantaro admitted, but he was so impressed that he almost forgot how this could have ended as well.

"Well, sometimes you have to be reckless to reach your dreams and make them reality! Everyone told me it was impossible, but I never gave up and aced the exam. Limits don't exist unless you set them yourself!" Kaito seemed to be an optimistic person as well… just like Kaede earlier. 

Hmm, that can be a good thing, but it can also turn out very bad… I may have to keep an eye on them if things go the way I think they are, but they are very friendly and nice so far.

"Gonta thinks that sounded very cool!" The other one smiled and  clapped a few more times in his hands. 

Third person? Rantaro looked up confused, but simply accepted it. I'm sure there is a reason for it and I don't know about it yet.

"Hehe, Thanks dude! Now introduce yourself as well!" Kaito showed a thumbs up and 'Gonta' nodded firmly.

"Uhm, Gonta's name is Gonta Gokuhara. Gonta's talent is Ultimate Entomologist. Kid Gonta bigger than other kids. Other kids scared of Gonta...so kid Gonta play alone often. That how Gonta came to like bugs, but then Gonta really focus he end up lost in forest" he explained and both Kaito and Rantaro stared at him.

"But they found you and everything was alright, right?" Kaito asked with wide open eyes. 

"Yeah, but took 10 years though" 

"10 YEARS?" for a second Rantaro had to steady Kaito so that he wouldn't fall backwards right out of his slippers. 

Why the hell is he wearing slippers anyway?

"Don't worry! New family took care of Gonta!" Gonta continued to explain his situation and the other two sighed in relief. 

"I hope they are nice people" Rantaro smiled, but Gonta looked confused.

"Not people, wolves! Cuz of forest family Gonta learned to speak bug and animal and as thanks Gonta wanna show new family what great gentlemen Gonta is" he stated happily and smiled proud.

"W-WOLVES?" and again Rantaro had to catch Kaito so that he wouldn't fall. He sighed defeated.

"That's all you heard? Seriously?" Rantaro turned his head to look Gonta in the eyes. 

"I think your forest family would be very proud of you so just be yourself! By the way you two- I'm Rantaro Amami, nice to meet you!" he pushed Kaito back on his feet, they chatted a bit, but after some time Rantaro had to leave these two behind.

Who is still missing? We're 16 students and-

Rantaro didn't know how, but somehow he found a little waterfall and a girl was curiously watching him.

"Yaahoo!! My name is Angie Yonaga and I'm the Ultimate Artist!" She quickly introduced herself with a very positive attitude.

More optimistic people? Oh well, that's going to be hard to keep track over. At least, they are all really nice, I guess.

"I'm Rantaro Amami, you're pretty cheerful, aren't you?" he asked, not sure how to respond to her positivity.

"Nyahaha!! There's no reason to carry bad thoughts with ya! You gotta live everyday like it's big, cheery and fun… so says Atua!" 

"Wow, it's amazing how positive you are- wait… Atua?" Rantaro tilted his head in confusion and Angie laughed again.

"The god of my island, Atua, is always with me, speaking to me with his divine voice… Atua also makes the art, I only offer my body as his vessel! Do you want to offer something to Atua? Boy's blood is also an acceptable offer!" Angie spoke slowly but clearly and Rantaro laughed loudly. 

That's a nice joke-

please tell me it's a joke…

please?

And then he ran for his life.

Some time passed until Rantaro found the rooms for each person. 

Finally, I'm so exhausted, I need a break… 

The moment he wanted to open the door with his picture above it someone stopped him. 

"I'm sorry, but I haven't introduced myself yet- I'm Kirumi Tojo, the Ultimate Maid. Please let me know if you need any kind of help or service!"

"Nice to meet you, Kirumi! I'm Rantaro Amami! I hope we get along well and you don't have to talk so formal, it's not necessary!" He assured her, but Kirumi didn't seemed to care much. 

"Do you have any plan what to do from now on?" she asked and Rantaro stopped in bis tracks.

"That's a tough question… it's more like what can we do… I guess we have to wait and see what happens, do you have an idea, Kirumi?" he thought hard, but nothing came to his mind. 

"As a maid my only desire is to fulfill the desires for others so please think about what you desire for yourself. No matter tge situation, no matter what happens… I am here to serve everyone" Kirumi gently put her hands together and smiled lightly and Rantaro smiled back at her.

Okay, I get big mom vibes from her… hm, we will see how this will turn out later.

Ding Dong- Bing Bong!

[the-real-anywolf]

Destiel Advent Calendar 2019

Title: Game Night

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Christmas Fluff, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Post-Episode: s15e08 Our Father Who Aren't in Heaven, Board Games, Card Games, so many games, Dean Just Wants To Win At Something

Summary: Dean decides that they’re going to have a game night in the bunker, and he’s determined that he’s going to beat Sam at least once. Thanks to Cas, things really don’t turn out as planned.

Written by: @punk-is-notdead​ (tfw_cas)

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21872311#main

Day 21: Game Night

Dean’s dislike of Christmas had been severely tested in the space of one day spent eating, drinking and making merry with his family; for the first time since he was four, Dean could say that he’d had an awesome holiday.

In the buildup to Christmas, Dean had enjoyed decorating the bunker and buying gifts for his loved ones, and on Christmas Day, he and Eileen had cooked up a feast. There were lots of veggies for Sam, and even Cas had eaten some of the food for once. Watching Sam and Eileen was like watching one of those chick flicks that Dean knew nothing about, but he wasn’t going to complain.

Good for them.

He and Cas were back on an even keel with their friendship, and that was also something to celebrate. It turned out that Rowena gave really good advice, and a sincere heartfelt apology worked wonders with starting the healing process.

It was remarkable how quickly they had fallen back into their familiar friendship, and Dean had taken great pains to find a meaningful gift for Cas. Then, seeing the angel’s delighted reaction as he unwrapped a coffee mug that bore the legend ‘always bee yourself’ gave Dean a curious case of butterflies in his stomach.

He hadn’t expected to receive a gift back from Cas, so when he unwrapped a snow globe of the Chrysler building, the butterflies only got worse. It was kind of cheesy, and yet sweet too, and Dean loved it.

After all the gifts had been exchanged, they’d spent the rest of the evening watching Christmas movies and arguing about which one was the best. Sam was adamant it was The Apartment, Eileen was equally as insistent about it being Die Hard, and Cas had no opinion on the matter, but Dean was sure it would be It’s A Wonderful Life, if he’d ever actually seen it (note to self: show Cas It’s A Wonderful Life). However, they were all wrong, because Dean knew that the best Christmas movie was Home Alone… no contest.

Anyway, the discussion had been good natured and full of laughter, and Dean had gone to bed full of cheer, and pie. Now, standing in the kitchen making coffee the morning after, Dean wondered what they would do with their day. There was nothing on the agenda, no plans at all, and then it hit him. They would have a game night, except it would start in the morning.

It had been too long since he and Sam had played any board games, and they never did play that game of Mouse Trap he set up before… Jack and mom. Deciding to put that particular upsetting thought out of his mind, he ate a quick bowl of cereal, before going to his Dean cave, finding the box containing Monopoly, and bringing it to the library.

Laying out the board and pieces didn’t take long, and armed with his mug of coffee, Dean soon had it all ready. He just needed everyone else to wake up now… not that Cas slept, but he wasn’t here right now so…

Where was Cas, anyway?

Almost as if he’d heard the question, Cas appeared in the doorway, coffee mug in hand.

“Hello, Dean,” he said joining him at the table. “What’s this?”

“Monopoly. We’re gonna have a game night.”

Cas looked a little disappointed as he asked, “We must wait until tonight?”

“No, it’s just a saying. We’re waiting for Sammy and Eileen, and then we’ll play. But game morning sounds weird.”

“I see,” Cas replied, not appearing to ‘see’ at all. “Will you explain how this works while we wait?”

“Sure,” said Dean, before explaining the game in minute detail.

He was about to ask if Cas wanted to play a practice game just the two of them, when Sam and Eileen finally dragged their asses out of bed and joined them in the library.

Dean wanted to make some kind of comment about their disheveled appearance, but… they were too adorable. Plus, he was really happy for Sam. He was still going to wipe the floor with him, though.

"We're playing Monopoly," Dean explained.

"Good for you. Have fun," Sam said, taking Eileen's hand and starting to walk away.

"No… we're playing," Dean said, gesturing to each of them in turn. "Sit your asses down."

Sam sighed, as he let go of Eileen's hand and signed something to her. She signed back, and Sam smiled, before they sat down, and he said, "Okay, one game."

"Oh no, Sammy. This is just the first one." Dean shook his head.

Sam looked like he was about to protest, but thankfully Eileen came to the rescue.

"Come on, Sam. I think spending the day playing games is a great idea."

“Good thing we already ate breakfast,” Sam grumbled half-heartedly.

Dean passed the dice to Cas to get the game started, and after they had all rolled once, it was determined that Eileen would go first. Once the game got going properly, Dean focused all his attention on beating Sam. In the past, whenever they’d played games Sam had always won, and Dean was determined that this time he would be the winner.

Unfortunately, Dean got knocked out of the game first - despite owning all the stations, and having hotels on Boardwalk - followed soon afterwards by Eileen. He didn’t want to be there when Sam won, so the two of them went off to the kitchen to make sandwiches and more coffee. They returned just in time to see Sam throwing up his hands in defeat and a surprised-looking Cas taking the winner’s crown.

Dean clapped his friend on the shoulder in a congratulatory way, and made a face at Sam. “Nice one, buddy. That’s some beginner's luck you’ve got there.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said with a bemused smile. “What are we going to play next?”

“Clue.” Dean went back to the Dean cave to pick up as many of the games he had stashed there as he could carry, and dumped them on the library table.

Sam’s eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything; he took a bite out of the sandwich Eileen had prepared for him, and hummed appreciatively.

Dean set up the Clue board, explaining the rules as he did so. This game would last a lot less time than the two and a half hours their game of Monopoly had taken, but he was confident he could beat Sam this time.

Dean hadn’t been wrong about it lasting less time; within twenty minutes it was all over, and Cas came out as the winner, after correctly accusing Professor Plum, in the study, with the knife.

“Well done, Cas,” Dean said. “You’re on a winning streak.” It wouldn’t last forever, though.

The next game they played was Life, which was pretty ironic really when Dean thought about it. For all of them, their lives had been about as far from ordinary as you could get, and yet here they were going around a board to get married, have children, go to college and get a job.

It proved to be a lot of fun anyway, and surely this time Dean would beat Sam. Except, wouldn’t you know it, Cas won… again.

“Congratulations, Cas. You’re officially the best at life,” Dean said, realising how odd that probably sounded to an angel.

Cas smiled somewhat sheepishly, as if he felt guilty for constantly winning, but there was no way he would win Cards Against Humanity. Absolutely not.

Except of course, he did, with a two card answer, which when read with the question said:

And the academy award for ‘pretending to care’ goes to ‘god’.

Ouch.

By now it was six in the evening, and they stopped temporarily, to grab some dinner. An hour or so later, armed with full bellies, a shitload of beers, and determination - on Dean’s part anyway - game night resumed once more.

He should have known that playing Trivial Pursuit against an angel who was millions of years old was a bad idea. Of course Cas won, and Dean had to stop himself from complaining.

Godammit.

“Poker,” Dean said, failing to congratulate Cas on his win this time.

“Don’t you think it’s time we called it a night, Dean?” Sam asked, clearly not as bothered by the fact that Cas had won every damn game as Dean was.

“Nah, it’s still early,” Dean said shuffling the deck of cards. “Texas hold 'em, okay?”

Of course it turned out that Cas didn’t know the rules of this game either, so Dean went through them as quickly as possible, hoping that Cas wouldn’t quite get it, and that this time he would finally beat Sam. But… of course Cas won that too.

Sonovabitch!

“Seriously?” he exclaimed, and Cas looked a little upset by Dean’s sudden outburst.

“Sorry,” he said, backtracking. “It’s just… you sure you haven’t played this before? Are you hustling us?”

“Dude,” Sam scolded him. “What ever happened to congratulations, or well done?”

“Well done, Cas,” Dean said, trying not to sound grumpy. “ Tic-tac-toe?”

He saw Sam drop his forehead to the table, as Cas gave him an inquiring look. “I’ll show you,” he said, disappearing momentarily to find a piece of paper and a couple of pencils. When he returned, they were all staring at him intently. It was kind of disconcerting, but he ignored them and drew the grid on the paper, before handing Cas a pencil and explaining, “we fill it with xs and os. Whoever makes a line first wins.”

Dean wasn’t going to even get the opportunity to win against Sam this time, but surely he could beat Cas?

Nope.

Dean felt foolish for thinking it might even be a possibility. He looked over at Cas, who was peering down at the paper - probably wondering how he’d won yet again - and in a moment of desperation, asked, “Best two out of three? Arm wrestling?”

Sam slapped his hands on the table and stood up. “You’re being ridiculous,” he said to Dean, taking Eileen’s hand as she also got to her feet. “This has been great. Congratulations, Cas. G’night, you guys.”

“Goodnight,” Eileen said, smiling at them as she and Sam left.

“Sorry, man, I’m an ass.” Dean apologised, opening a bottle of beer and taking a sip.

“Why is winning so important to you?” Cas asked, picking at the label on his bottle.

Interesting question. Dean thought for a moment before replying. “When we were kids, I always let Sammy win. Then he became smarter than me and he started beating me on his own, and I just wanted to win for once. I didn’t think I’d lose every time to a sneaky angel.” He grinned at Cas to let him know there were no hard feelings.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I had no idea.” Cas said, seemingly full of regret.

“I don’t want you to feel bad. I just…” Dean didn’t finish his sentence, because he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.

“Then what do you want?” Cas had stopped fiddling with his beer bottle, and was staring at Dean now; looking into his eyes so intensely that Dean felt an involuntary twitch in his cock.

Ohhh. This was suddenly a different game they were playing… a very dangerous one. Dean’s breath caught in his throat as he returned the stare, and put his bottle down on the table before he dropped it.

“I dunno,” he shrugged, his voice thick, and lower than usual. “What’ve you got?” He winked playfully, as if he wasn’t actually engaging in some heavy duty flirting with his best friend.

“Whatever you want.” Cas glanced down at the table top, and ran his fingers lightly over the surface, then looked back up and caught Dean’s gaze again.

Oh, fuck. Was this really happening? Was Cas really offering whatever Dean wanted? They were sitting on opposite sides of the table, so he couldn’t quite do what he wanted, which was to grab Cas by the tie and yank him forward into a kiss. One of them was going to have to move, and Dean wasn’t sure he was physically able to right now. There was something else he wanted, though.

“Take your coat off,” he said, licking his bottom lip in anticipation.

Without a word Cas stood up and, never breaking eye contact with Dean, removed the garment and placed it on the chair next to him.

Holy shit. Dean thought his heart might have stopped. He’d only taken off his coat, and yet Cas might as well be naked right now. Dean could see the lines of his muscles moving beneath the suit jacket as Cas held out his arms to demonstrate that he’d done what Dean had asked.

Enough of the games, Dean decided, getting to his feet and walking around the table to stand next to Cas.

“Is there anything else you want?” Cas asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Anything?” Dean wanted clarification before he did something he couldn’t take back.

Cas nodded, and Dean stepped forward, took the tie in his hand and pulled Cas forward until their lips were brushing.

“This,” he murmured, before their mouths collided in a breathtaking, knee-weakening kiss.

As they wound their arms around each other, and their hands tangled in each other’s hair, Dean had a feeling that he had finally won something, and it was pretty significant.

He was a Win-chester, after all.

[hiiggsmonaghan]

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 910 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 1920 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 2930 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 3940 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 4950 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 5960 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 6970 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 7980 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 8990 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99

Are you fuckin’ kidding me--?

Alright, I’ll answer them ALL. 

1. Name: Higgs Monaghan Silver/Silvio

2. Nationality: Canadian/Acadian

3. Age: 22

4. Birthday: July 19th 

5. Zodiac sign (or your primal zodiac sign): Cancer

6. Gender: cis male

7. Sexuality: Gay

8. Your looks (add a picture or describe yourself):  This will have to wait until a special reveal. (Future cosplay things.)

9. What do you/did you study?: ... Does Egyptian history count?

10. What's your current job like?/What job would you like to have?: [Nervous laughter] I have no idea what I’d like to do for a job. 

-

11. Your birth order: First child

12. How many siblings do you have?: 1 “real” sibling, but so many siblings by bond.

13. Do you have good relations with your family?: Biological family? Absolutely not. Except for two of my cousins. They are cool.

14. How many friends do you have?: Too many that it’s obnoxious. [Just kidding, I appreciate you all.]

15. Your relationship status: Taken/Engaged

16. What do you look for in a SO?: Someone who can kick my ass. [Who can handle my anger outbursts]

17. Do you have a crush?: No. 

18. When did you have your first kiss?: When I was 14. It was forced and was a terrible experience. 

19. Do you prefer serious and meaningful relationships or casual dating/one night stands?: Meaningful ones, funny enough.

20. What are your deal breakers?: Overly clingy, too loud, not respectful of my music choices

-

21. How was your day?: Cold. Snowstorm happened today.

22. Favourite food & drink: Pizzas/cheeseburgers || Strawberry slushie with tapioca pearls/orange juice

23. What position do you sleep in?: Fetal position. [Hahahah... ha.]

24. What was your last dream about?: Cannot remember.

25. Your fears: The ocean [drowning], deep forests.. uhh... There are others but I cannot think of it at the moment

26. Your dreams: To be on my goddamn motorcycle, livin’ a good life without my mental illness in the way.

27. Your goals: See above.

28. Any pets?: Not yet! Planin’ to get a black cat soon!

29. What are your hobbies?: Music and readin’

30. Any cool places in your area?: Pfft, no. It’s so fuckin’ boring here.

31. What was your last awkward situation?: I was at Tim Horton’s and there was a baby cryin’ behind me so I looked over at it and played... peek-a-boo with them. It was...weird. But at least the baby shut up. The mother didn’t do shit to make the baby stop cryin’ so.. Great Parenting.

32. What is your last regret?: Well too many to really talk about but I’ll go with the funny route and my last regret was not goin’ to Burger King yesterday and eatin’ salad instead of a burger. 

33. Language/s you can speak: English

34. Do you believe in astrological stuff? (Zodiac, tarot, etc.): Not really. It’s all just whatever for me.

35. Have any quirks?: I bite my nails often... I pretend to conduct music while it is playing... uh...???

36. Your pet peeves: Everything.

37. Ideal vacation: Anywhere away from North America.

38. Any scars?: Many. 

39. What does your last text message say?: “Nah”

40. Last 5 things from your search history: Twitter, Vargskelethor’s twitch, Cloud Strife, YouTube, FF7 remake release date

41. What's your [device] background?: RK900 from Detroit Become Human

42. What do you daydream about?: Usually having super strength and throwing people whom bother me across the world or just... punchin’ them. 

43. Describe your dream home: A  simple house, really. Nothin’ too fancy. Just the idea of havin’ my own house? Even if it isn’t that big or anythin’... That is a dream for me. Oh, and I want it painted black. Hah.

44. What's your religion/Your thought about religion: I’d say I’m atheist but... I do believe in God. I AM God. :)

45. Your personality type:  ISTP-T

46. The most dangerous thing you've done: [Looks at the list of dangerous things I have done] ... There are too many

47. Are you happy with your current life?: At the moment? Yeah. There are things I am still angry about but it’s... fine.

48. Some things you've tried in your life: Smoking. Drawing. Singing. Writing. Playing the guitar. ???

-

49. What does your wardrobe consist of?: Black and reds. 

50. Favourite colour to wear?: Black.

51. How would you describe your style?: Goth/punk

52. Are you happy with your current looks?: Eh.. Not really but it’s all I got.

53. If you could change/add something to your appearance - impossible or not - what would it be?: Grow. Damn. Facial. Hair. Holy FUCK.

54. Any tattoos or piercings?: Snake bites. But I took one out so only one lip piercing now. And tattoos? Soon. Very soon. [Gonna be Higgs’ themed, baby.]

55. Do you get complimented often?: No and when I do I make it Stop. I hate it. Never compliment me. 

56. Favourite aesthetic?: Black/gold aesthetics as of late.

57. A popular trend that you dislike: Everything. I hate them all.

- [FINALLY THE ONES I WANTED, JESUS CHRIST]

58. Songs you're currently obsessed with?:  Allesfresser by LINDEMANN 

It’s a great song to listen to for me because I just punch my punching bag to this song. Makes my anger just... go away. It’s fuckin’ nice.

59. Song you normally wouldn't admit you like: .... Let’s Dance by David Bowie

I am a new fan of David Bowie. It just literally started in July or late June. I’m the typical metal head but for some reason Bowie just caught my ear? I dunno, man.

60. Favourite genre?: METAL. Well, Power Metal. I love all sorts of metal except for like.. most death metal/black metal. It is too much for me sometimes. But yeah, if yall are into metal... I’m all ears. I love talkin’ about metal.

61. Favourite artist/band/genre?: Well I already spoke about my favorite genre. For favorite bands? God... Uh.. I have a list here of favorite bands/musicians. Check it out if you’re interested. 

62. Hated popular songs/artists?: Honestly? I’m gonna be one of those guys and say pretty much everything on the radio these days. I don’t like pop/rap and all the most popular stuff. Turning the radio on is ear torture these days. Except for the rock channel, that one is okay most of the time.

63. Put your music on shuffle and list first 5:

1 - System of a Down’s Chop Suey in the Style of Ghost by Ten Second Songs

This guy is simply AMAZING. If yall haven’t already, you NEED to check out his channel. He is wicked talented and he has different styles for different songs. Like for example, Metallica’s Enter Sandman in the style of David Bowie. It’s amazing. 

Check him out. His YouTube is Ten Second Songs.

2 - City by Hollywood Undead

This one just gives me my inner Higgs’ vibes. That is really all I can say.

3 - Mein Teil by Rammstein

4 - Cars by Fear Factory

5 -  龍が如く極 - Turning Point [From Yakuza Kiwami]

Yeah, hi. Yakuza fan here. Do I have to say any more? 

64. Can you sing or play any instruments?: I can kind of sing, [very badly, mind you] and sort of play the guitar. I’m tryin’ to learn Come as You Are by Nirvana at the moment... but that’s about it

65. Do you like karaoke?: 

.... Yes. My inner Nishiki in me just cannot lie about this.

66. Own any albums?: Absolutely. I am a firm believer in albums rather than just buying them digitally. I love having an actual copy in my hands rather just on the computer. 

67. Do you listen to radio? What stations?: Not really. I only listen to the rock station.

-

68. Favourite movie/series?: Star Wars.

69. Favourite genre of movies/books/etc: Uhhh... I don’t know

70. Your fictional crush/es: Sam Fuckin’ Porter Bridges, General Hux, RK900...

71. Which fictional character is you?: [Chuckles nervously] 

Higgs Monaghan-- 

Too many to write down. I’ll just pass myself the trouble.

72. Are you a shipper? List your otps, if so: Eh not really. Only like.. Gavin/RK900 [Reed900] and General Hux/Kylo Ren [Kylux/Huxlo]

73. Favourite greek god?: Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh? I don’t know?

74. A legend from where you live that you like: None.

75. Do you like art? What's your favourite work or artist?: I’m gonna be cheesy and say all of my friends because it’s true. I love my friends art.

76. Can you share your other social media?: Yeah sure. My twitter is @hiiggsmonaghan

77. Favourite youtubers?: Markiplier, Jacksepticeye... Streamers: Vargskelethor and Vinesauce

78. Favourite platform?: Tumblr and Twitter

79. How much time do you spend on the internet?: .. Too long

80. What video games have you played? Which one's your favourite?: Ones I have PLAYED that are my favorite: Pokemon, Devil May Cry, Final Fantasy XV, Yakuza 0/Kiwami. 

I also have a lot a games I love that I just watched. Like a lot of Legend of Zelda games and of course Death Stranding!

81. Your favourite books (manga also counts): Anything really by William Blake. I guess that really isn’t a “book” but.. all I really read are poems, Shakespearean plays and Egyptian history books.

82. Do you play board/card games?: No

83. Have you ever been to a night marathon in cinema?: No

84. Favourite holiday: Halloween

85. Are you into dramas?: Not really.

-

86. Would you use death note, if you had one?: ABSOLUTELY. And I do have one. Well... a replica. Not the real one of course.

87. What changes would you make in the world, no matter how impossible, if you had the power to?: Get rid of the racists, rapists, pedos and homo/trans phobes. The world would just be more pleasant to live in, yeah?

88. Could you survive a zombie apocalypse?: Probably. Because I stay inside a lot anyway.

89. If you had to be turned into a paranormal being, what would it be?: A demon because I am that fuckin’ edgy.

90. What would you want to happen to you after your death?: VOID OUT, BITCH. Uh, I don’t know. 

91. If you had to change your name, what would be your pick?: I did change my name so I am happy with it. 

92. Who would you switch your life with for a week?: Uh.. No one. Can that be an option?

93. Pick an emoji to be your tattoo: The devil smiling one I guess?

94. Write 3 things about yourself - only one of them must be true

1. I am in a poly relationship while I am also engaged.

2. I have a knife collection

3.I still used an mp3 instead of using my phone for music

-

95. Cold or hot?: ... Cold because you can get warm with blankets and sweaters while if you are hot, it’s damn impossible to not be hot.

96. Be a hero or be a villain?: Hero in my eyes, but to all of you I’m the villain for some DAMN reason.

97. Sing everything you want to say or rhyme?: Sing I guess. Imagine singing in metal. Holy SHIT

98. Shapeshifting or controlling time?: CONTROLLING TIME.

99. Be immortal or be immune to everything aside from natural death?: Immune to everything. I’m sick of being sick.

====

And there you have it. I’m... fuckin’ DONE. This took literal HOURS, ANON. I hope yall read through this.

[gyazoapp]

Meet PlaceRebuilder, Gyazo Explore winner and creator of Reason 2 Die in Roblox

Today we have an interview with Andreas AKA PlaceRebuilder, an independent game developer working on Reason 2 Die, a popular game made with Roblox. He recently won our grand prize by sharing Gyazo game captures that got the most reactions within one month.

Sharing game moments with Gyazo takes seconds, not minutes, and it can increase your followers plus keep them engaged. See what’s happening in Roblox, League of Legends, and Fortnite on Gyazo Explore.

And now, on with the interview.

Can you tell me a little about your background? Are you studying or working right now? 

My name is Andreas but I go under the alias of PlaceRebuilder. Sorta like Neo, except instead of being a super cool Kung-Fu fighter, I do games on a kids website. At the moment I’m not ‘actively’ studying, I’m on a break. I do some exams here and there and might jump back in later full-time. 

I’m currently developing the game Reason 2 Die: Awakening. A Roblox zombie shooter game that’s been sort of a franchise ever since I was a kid. I created the first version over 10 years ago and today’s version ‘Awakening’ has been under development for about 4 years.

Which apps do you use every day / couldn't live without?  

Roblox. Literally would be flipping burgers at McDonalds unless I had discovered how to make games on that site. Gyazo I probably COULD live without but it would make the progress of sharing current development much more boring. I would only post pictures on my twitter, not fancy gifs.

Why do you think Robloxians use Gyazo to share so much?

It’s a super easy tool to fast record your screen without having to save 14GB of .avi footage on your computer like Fraps. Then easily getting a link to share with anyone is just perfect!

What do you like most about roblox? Is there something special about it compared to other games?

The simplicity and ease of use is the reason I got engaged in making Roblox games. I would be interested in making unity games as well, but there’s something about having your custom-made character available in almost any game that gives Roblox the charm that other game platforms don’t have. 

My PlaceRebuilder character is clean and iconic. Being able to play a completely different game and still keep my character appearance is one of the best parts of Roblox.

My roblox character, PlaceRebuilder:

What would you like to tell Gyazo users and game fans about the game you’re working on? Can you share any details about the future of the project?

Oh boi, my favorite part of this whole interview!

How would I best describe Reason 2 Die? It started off as a fan-made ‘Left 4 Dead’ game, hence the name Reason 2 Die. Besides just shooting zombies we’ve had several holiday events like Halloween and Christmas in which unique maps and Quests are added and one-time-available mounts and costumes can be obtained.

Reason 2 Die is primarily a blocky zombie shooter but occasionally I find some funny random item to add into the game that otherwise wouldn’t fit a conventional post-apocalyptic genre. One example of this is the Christmas toy plane that could be acquired during the Christmas Event 2019.

Or the Freedom flag for sale during Thanksgiving

These don’t necessarily help with completing the objectives but flying a toy plane far above zombie hoards is still such a joyful feeling! 

The future of Reason 2 Die is found in new players. Right now I’m reworking the gameplay, stats and contracts as well as adding a fancy tutorial headsup to teach everyone how to play with ease.

We have some events like ‘Summer Event 2020’ coming up, but primarily I want to focus on developing a fun campaign-driven gameplay. We’ve had like 13 events (according to our wiki) and I’ve really enjoyed them all but this year I’m going to focus on gameplay instead.

What are some challenges you have with your project?Anything Gyazo could help with?

It’s sometimes difficult to record with Gyazo because if something happens in-game then don’t have time to open Gyazo, select the area to record and then start recording. By the time you’ve done that the thing you wanted to record is already gone.

Be sure to check out Gyazo Replay for reliable in-game capturing.

If you could add one feature, what would you add to Gyazo and why?

I’d like Gyazo to have an option to pre-select the area you wish to record, then choose (with a key) when to start and stop recording. That way you could easily record highlights of your gameplay without getting headshot by a sniper for standing still trying to open the GIF program.

Nice idea! I'll pass that on to the team.

If you look back to when you started playing Roblox, where did you think you would end up? What would be a dream or perfect result for you?

Back when I started it was just for fun, there wasn’t even an option to make any money out of it. Then I became a broke student and heard that you could make some money from Roblox games and I came back and started creating games again.

I think the perfect result would be when I have over 100k players online and I’m top popular aswell as top earning game on Roblox. It’s not so likely to happen but a man can dream, ok?

Go for it. You can get there if you keep working and moving forward.

Is there anything you would like to say to the Gyazo Team, Gyazo users, or the gaming community in general?

I want to say thanks for the chair, it’s really flexible and my previous chair was super old and hurting my back. It’s always amazing to win a contest you didn’t know you signed up for!

And a special shoutout to my community, your support makes R2DA developing fun :)

That’s all for our interview. What gaming chair did he pick?

With $400 gaming gear to chose from he picked the Omega 2020 Stealth Gaming Chair from Secret Lab:

Congratulations to PlaceRebuilder and I hope it was interesting for you out there reading to see how one game developer is using Gyazo to engage fans and build his brand. 

Check out PlaceRebuilder and Reason 2 Die: Follow him on Twitter Try Reason 2 Die in Roblox  Join the Reason 2 Die Discord

[chilly-territory]

Uchouten Kazoku 2, chapter 2 (part 2 out of 4)

Shogi, shogi and more shogi.

The Eccentric Family: The Nidaime’s Homecoming (Uchouten Kazoku: Nidaime no Kichou) by Morimi Tomihiko

Chapter 2 (part 2/4, pages 83-99)

〇

Nanzenji temple was an ancient temple of Soto school of Zen Buddhism located in the heart of the Higashiyama mountains.

The Nanzenji family's territory was the forest stretching from Nanzenji temple up.

About 80 years ago, in the chilly writing alcove of the temple, an Osaka shogi player by the name of Sakata Sankichi [*1] played off against shogi players from Tokyo. That match was known as the Nanzenji Showdown. Even I, as ignorant as I was about shogi, knew how Sakata Sankichi, previously silent for a long time, gave them a shock of a lifetime with an odd move known as 'pushing the right edge pawn'. Their game that had lasted for 7 days was dreadfully vicious, and even the tanuki of Nanzenji who watched it were left overwhelmed by it.

Even if the legend of the three Nanzenji siblings being taught shogi personally by Sakata Sankichi lacked credibility, it appeared that the fact that that 7 day game was what awakened the Nanzenji clan to shogi was true. Ever since, the Nanzenji family became passionate shogi fans who did everything in their power to popularize shogi in the tanuki world. The reason why our father picked up shogi in his youth was because the previous head of the Nanzenji clan taught him the basics.

Following the instructions from the Nanzenji tanuki, the tanuki on the premises started moving, walking with their paper lanters in hand.

Passing the Nanzenji waterway standing out in the darkness, they climbed the stone steps from where the purl of the streaming water in the Biwako canal could be heard. Swallowed by the looming shadow of the Higashiyama mountains, the area was so humid it was difficult to breathe. Overlooking the garden of Nanzenin, the lantern procession went through a grove of dark cedar trees. From the front of the line, Yasaka Heitarou's laughing voice could be heard, and someone tooted a trumpet.

My eldest brother was vigilantly looking all around as he walked.

"I don't see Kinkaku and Ginkaku."

The great turmoil that had shaken the tanuki world last year had ended with the head of the Ebisugawa family, Ebisugawa Souun, who controlled the factory producing Fake Denki Bran [*2] for many years and stuffed his own pockets, losing his standing. The whereabouts of Souun, who had taken away all his fortune with him, to this date remained unknown, but there were rumors that he made himself comfortable at a hot spring.

Thus, the most idiotic brothers in the whole tanuki world, that is, Kinkaku and Ginkaku, took over running the factory, replacing Souun, and when everyone thought that this might be it for the long-standing and honorable moonshine that was Fake Denki Bran, a shrewd operator, namely Souun's youngest daughter Kaisei, appeared out of nowhere like a meteor [*3] and took up the reins of her idiot brothers. Said brothers were frequently seen on the night streets in tears weeping that "Kaizei chewed us out".

"They obviously have no slightest interest in shogi. They're idiots, after all." "They were mighty sulky after their crushing defeat in the preliminaries, but said they would come to participate in the main tournament anyway. Kaisei provided Fake Denki Bran for refreshments, so it won't do for us to completely exclude the Ebisugawa family from the tournament." "If they're up to no good, I'm ready to take up the gauntlet." "Spare me the off-the-shogi-board fighting, will you."

Before long, we came out to a clearing in the woods.

An impressive bonfire burning bright in one corner of the forest cast light onto a gigantic shogi board several dozens of tatami mats in size and built in the center of the clearing. It was to become the stage for tonight's matches. On the three sides of it, there were put tiered audience seats, and before it stood a long table, tightly packed with simmering oden pots, rows of countless onigiri enough to be dizzied by, and alluringly sparkling large bottles of Fake Denki Bran, shamelessly enticing the assembled tanuki.

The head of the Nanzenji family and Gyokuran's older brother Shoujirou stepped forward, dressed in a traditional Japanese attire.

"I would like to heartily thank all of you who came to the Nanzenji Shogi tournament today. After Shimogamo Souichirou's passing, this tournament has been on hold for a long time, unavoidable though it was, but today, thanks to everyone's kind support, we are opening it again. I pray that this time this tournament will remain annual for years to come. Additionally, I would also like to express our special gratitude to Ebisugawa Kaisei-sama for her enormous contribution."

The tanuki who'd already filled their cups gave a loud cheer.

"Hooray for tanuki shogi! Hooray for Fake Denki Bran!"

As if they were purposefully waiting for the precise moment when those shouts of joy would resound, a procession of black-clad English gentlemen with paper lanterns suddenly appeared. The name on the lanterns read 'Ebisugawa'. Kinkaku, in a top silk hat vulgary glittering with gold, seemed to be basking in the 'Hooray for Fake Denki Bran' cheers with an air of smugness and arrogance. Behind him, Ginkaku, in a similarly glittering top silk hat of silver, also looked very pleased with himself.

"Hello, hello, ladies and gentlemen, I'm sure you've been expecting us. I'm your Kinkaku." "And I'm Ginkaku you've been waiting for."

"Hell no, we haven't!" I heckled, and the assembled tanuki burst out laughing as one, the forest around buzzing with liveliness. Kinkaku's plump cheeks trembled, and he glared at me. He and Ginkaku then pulled their eyelids down and stuck their tongues at me, and I reciprocated with the same.

Tanuki shogi of Nanzenji temple was something that my father and the previous head of the Nanzenji family invented. That said, the rules themselves were no different from the so-called 'Human shogi' that humans play. What differed was that tanuki put their shapeshifting techniques to use to transform into huge shogi pieces. Players would take the position of the king on each side with a small shogi board at hand while the transformed tanuki would move across the board in accordance with their directions. This was quite a magnificent view if I ever saw one, but at the same time, there was no denying it was also equally stupid.

Nanzenji Shoujirou called out the names of two participants out of those who had won through the preliminary tournament.

"For the Western Army, Nanzenji Gyokuran."

Nanzanji Gyokuran, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing, appeared and bowed to the present in greeting.

"For the Eastern Army, Shimogamo Yajirou."

Together with Shoujirou's call of his name, my second elder brother drew himself up in my hands.

"Wow! It's Beauty and the Frog!" someone commented, and the tanuki burst out laughing again.

My mother and Yashirou heaped oden on their plates and went to the spectator seats. Me and my eldest brother placed Yajirou on a zabuton and carried him to the king's position on the shogi board. "Just relax and take it nice and easy," tried I to get him to relax, but our eldest only piled up more pressure, "Protect the honor of the Shimogamo family. Psyche yourself up and give it your all". "You two say totally opposite things, you know," our frog brother smiled wryly.

As we were busy disputing like this, Nanzenji Gyokuran walked up to us from the enemy camp.

"Yaichirou-san, good everning."

Our eldest stood at attention.

"Good evening, Gyokuran." "I would like to thank you for all your hard work for the sake of this tournament. It is thanks to you, Yaichirou-san, that this day came to pass." "You are too kind. I'm relieved to see this happen, as well."

Gyokuran then smiled at my frog brother. "I will not go easy on you, Yajirou-kun."

Watching her return to her own camp, my second elder brother said, "Gyokuran seems sad because you chose not to participate, nii-san." "I'm basically a novice. Even if I did enter, I wouldn't be able to get past the preliminaries. There's no way I'm qualified to be Gyokuran's opponent."

Back when my brother and Gyokuran were both Akadama-sensei's pupils, in addition to chasing about the mischievous boys, they would often face off from the opposite sides of the shogi board. That is, they studied shogi together, but as time went by, the difference in their ability became progressively more obvious.

And so my eldest brother, having his pride crushed by Gyokuran, left those deep teeth marks on our father's shogi board.

〇

When it comes to shogi, there are no useless pieces, and those who underestimate pawns will be made cry at the hands of a pawn.

However, tanuki were such creatures that if they were going to enact a shogi piece, they wanted to play some more important one, and those of them who signed up to be shogi pieces went through alternating bouts of joy and disappointment as the members of the Nanzenji family read out who was assigned to play what piece. I received the role of the Eastern Army knight commanded by my frog brother, while our eldest brother was assigned the role of the rook which made him very proud. Turning and taking a look at the enemy camp revealed that the annoying Kinkaku and Ginkaku were entrusted with the major roles of the gold and silver generals, which only added to their triumphant and smug air.

Soon, the player with the first move was decided to be our brother, and the game of tanuki shogi started.

In the opening, the pieces only made small moves, and to me, ignorant about shogi as I was, it was boring. The tanuki in the audience were the same, paying all of their attention to oden, Fake Denki Bran and chatter rather than to the game. I kept sending my frog brother looks, silently begging him to use his knight piece in a big way, but my brother only watched the surface of the board with a calm and composed face, paying no heed to his unruly knight.

At any rate, to me, what was so fun about shogi was one of the biggest mysteries ever.

In spite of my father passionately teaching me in my childhood, none of those formal procedures such as the standard moves or the obligatory king encircling stuck in my head, going in one ear and out the other. As it was, I would repeatedly launch a reckless attack on the enemy king in hopes of assassinating him, leaving my own king completely unguarded and vulnerable to being surrounded by the enemy in the process, which of course resulted in glorious KIA for him. In the end, when I created nonsensical pieces like 'Idiot Mountain Sage', 'Pink tanuki' and 'American Minister' and started destroying the game known as shogi at the root, even my father had no choice but to give up. So, I distanced myself from shogi. Giving up on winning and losing on the board, I searched for opportunities outside of it.

While I was reminiscing, the game of tanuki shogi approached its mid-stage, and the pieces on the board started crossing swords. My brother finally decided to move his knight forward, and I leapt energetically, coming to about the center of the board.

Gyokuran moved her silver general, and I ended up facing Ginkaku.

The fake gentleman Ginkaku was trying to play violin which resulted in awful screeching.

"You're being obnoxious, Ginkaku." "I see arts are well and truly beyond your understanding," said Ginkaku with a complacent smile. "We're currently studying the ways of refined English gentlemen. Playing violin is essential to it." "If you guys can become English gentlemen, then surely so could a shougouin daikon [*4]!" "Why, such impertinence!"

From the back rows of the enemy camp Kinkaku shouted, "Ignore him! There is honor in isolation!" "Right, right, honor in isolation. I and my brother decided to stick with this principle like a great English gentleman of old did. And we are above associating with some idiot tanuki."

Except in the tanuki world, Kinkaku and Ginkaku, with their penchant for regularly putting their peerless idiocy on display for the whole world to see, had already been friendless and isolated. I suppose I was lucky to witness that moment when those two's lofty ideals and the tanuki world's common consensus miraculously overlapped.

"I'm pretty sure isolation without honor is just loneliness," I said. "Hush your mouth!" "If you keep those games up, Kaisei will chew you out again." "Hmph. We fear not the likes of Kaisei." "Liars. You look like you're about to cry, face contorted and all, every time she gives you a scolding." "No, we don't cry! We most certainly do not!"

Brandishing the violin bow, Ginkaku was indignant.

"Nii-san, how do I reply to that? I'm so offended right now."

"Just wait, Ginkaku. Your brother is coming to your rescue now!" Kinkaku shouted.

〇

Kinkaku readily retracted his previous remark about honor in isolation by pushing through the crowd to stand in front of me with nimbliness unthinkable for someone like him. The shogi pieces he pushed and shoved on his way forward fell one after another.

"You cannot move without my instructions!" Gyokuran cried, but those two weren't the type to listen. "Hi there, Yasaburou. Honestly, a tanuki like you is always so ungentlemanly." "Alas, nii-san, he will never evolve." "But we are different from you. We always advance and grow." "Yes, we advance, and then we grow. You'd better watch out!"

Kinkaku and Ginkaku, in sync with one another, shapeshifted into bigger shogi pieces, with a writing 'Drunk elephant' and 'Prancing stag' [*5] on them. When I commented that there was no way such weird pieces actually existed, "You never cease to be such an uneducated tanuki, do you," Kinkaku laughed mockingly. "These are actual pieces that used to be in shogi of old. Your ordinary pieces don't suit such extraordinary men as ourselves."

"How do you like my brother's extensive knowledge, hm? He may be bad at shogi, but he's got a really good head on his shoulders!"

"Oh, don't praise me so much, Ginkaku. That would not be very gentlemanly." “Oh, my bad. Indeed, that would be in poor taste."

As I was staring at the stupidly huge shogi pieces towering before me, the 74 new pieces that I rashly came up with in my childhood much to my father's chagrin crossed my mind. My eldest brother asked me to refrain from the off-the-board fighting, but at the moment we were firmly within the borders of the board, and the ones who started it were clearly Kinkaku and Ginkaku. As such, now was the time for me to change into a cooler piece and make my stand. Thus, I shapeshifted into the strongest of the Four Heavenly Kings that I seriously racked my brains to come up with when I was little, namely the 'Idiot Mountain Sage'.

Kinkaku and Ginkaku yelled in a chorus, "There's no such a piece!"

The original purpose of tanki shogi forgotten, the other pieces only watched this unfold in exasperation. Those in the audience, perceiving that all pointed to some off-the-board fighting brewing, leaned forward, "Looks like things are getting interesting!" Meanwhile, Kinkaku and Ginkaku shapeshifted into 'Jizaiten' and 'Gozu Tennou' [*6], I countered with 'American Minister', and by the end, in the center of the board there stood shoulder to shoulder 'Peerless In All Heaven and Earth', 'The Greatest' and 'Supreme Emperor of All Cosmos' iridescent with all the colors of the rainbow.

Losing his patience at that competition in obstinacy that could go on forever, my eldest brother came up to interfere.

"That's enough, Yasaburou." "I'm being careful for it not to off the board though, you know?" "Today is a very important day and a very important event for the Nanzenji family. This is no time to be competing with idiots." "As if I can back down at this point!" "Are you trying to embarrass Gyokuran?"

Just then, "Ahan," Kinkaku suddenly intoned in a nasty voice. "I knew it. For a long time now I thought Yaichirou was suspicious." "What do you mean, 'suspicious'?" my brother asked. "Oh, I just thought how you're always so awfully kind to the Nanzenji family and unkind to us! For someone who aspires to become the Nise-emon you show an awful lot of favoritism to the Nanzenjis, and it's so unfair, don't you think? Even with this tanuki shogi, you've been going out of your way quite a bit to help, no? We Ebisugawas provided so many barrels of Fake Denki Bran as refreshments, yet we heard not a word of gratitude from you, Yaichirou. Is this the kind of treatment you should be giving us? Just how miserable are you making us? How could our pure untainted hearts not get twisted in this situation?!" "So very true. Of course we become twisted, nii-san!" Ginkaku cried out. "The way I see it, the reason why Yaichirou favors the Nanzenjis so much is because of Gyokuran. He wanted to look good in front of her by bringing back tanuki shogi, and he wanted to be told 'Yaichirou-san, you're so wonderful' by her. Now, everyone, there is clearly a problem here, you see? Isn't this what they call mixing official business with personal pleasure, hm? I think that's quite the dishonest attitude unfit for someone trying to become the next Nise-emon."

Silence fell both on and off the board, and the spectators held their breath.

Thinking how such false accusations went too far even for that outrageous duo and how my straight-laced brother, of all people, would never have that kind of ulterior motives, I turned, only to find said brother daring his eyes about and stammering, "Th-th-th-th-th," like some chirping little bird. As it stood, apparently, Kinkaku was right on the money. Setting aside whether it was right or wrong to mix business with personal affairs, I couldn't help feeling for my brother whose crush was outed by Kinkaku and Ginkaku, of all people, in front of a crowd, no less, and the humiliation he was experiencing.

Getting cocky, Kinkaku and Ginkaku shapeshifted into Gyokuran complete with the traditional clothing she wore, and twisted their bodies suggestively on top of the shogi board.

"I was so busy playing shogi that I missed out on my chance to get marri-ah-ed." "Yaichirou-san, could you be so kind as to take me as your wi-ah-fe?"

It was then that the furious Nanzenji Gyokuran galloped across the shogi board.

Having shapeshifted into a big tigress, she let out a deafening roar, stripping Kinkaku and Ginkaku of what little courage they had.

Having turned into a rolling furball, Ginkaku then had his butt bitten by her. A piercing tanuki shriek echoed throughout the board. Gyokuran shook her head from side to side, and the furball in her teeth flew towards the groove of dark cedar trees, whining feebly all the while, "Uhaai!"

"No way we're getting ourselves caught in this mess," decided the tanuki on the board, turning back into furballs and trying to get away, pushing and shoving one another as they did. Using the general confusion, Kinkaku tried to make his escape, but, getting kicked by me, he rolled before being stomped on by Gyokuran with all her might.

Letting out pathethic yelping, he started apologizing to Gyokuran - way too late, at that.

"I'm sorry, Gyokuran. I might have said a bit too much."

The board turned into a total mess, with tanuki shogi being hopelessly out of question anymore.

Howls of the rampaging Gyokuran dispelled the intoxication of the merrymaking tanuki in no time. Yasaka Heitarou, who spectated from his seat in the audience, reluctantly got up, about to go and try to bring the situation under control, when heavy rain hit the land, as if the bottom of the sky had been removed.

Letting out shrieks and screams, the tanuki fled in all directions.

And so, the Tanuki Shogi Tournament held by the Nanzenji family closed the curtain amidst great disturbance.

〇

The rain that had started on the night of the Nanzenji Shogi Tournament, continued painting the city of Kyoto gray. The several bridges spanning the Kamogawa, as well as the townscape on both its banks, looked hazy, as if a phantom city in mist.

Tanuki shogi was met with surprisingly favorable reception from the tanuki of Kyoto, and Yasaka Heitarou was apparently heard saying that he wouldn't mind to hold the tournament next year again. The Ebisugawas, the Shimogamos and the Nanzenjis all thrown together and quite literally fighting it out on top of the shogi board became a party entertainment that many tanuki had enjoyed quite a bit. Sulky and disgruntled, Kinkaku and Ginkaku apparently voiced their objection to the Nanzenji family, saying that the butt that Gyokuran bit hurt so much they couldn't concentrate on their work, but since it was obvious they were grossly exaggerating, Ebisugawa Kaisei requested those complaints not be paid attention to, so the Nanzenji family kept non-committally side-stepping the issue.

Padding it with fluffy fur and making everyone feel better was the tanuki style of solving problems.

The ones who flatly went against this trend were my eldest brother and Nanzenji Gyokuran. Shaking free from her family's control, Gyokuran was in the middle of self-imposed confinement on the top of Nanzenji temple's main gate, while my brother grounded himself in the Tadasu forest, looking gloomy all day long. Being lectured with that face, as depressing as the sky during the rainy season, was more than I could take.

"I told you not to fall for provocations. But you did and ended up causing a lot of trouble for the Nanzenjis." "But it was those two who started it." "Learn already where it's okay to fight and where it's not, is what I'm saying."

My brother did have a point, which only exacerbated my obstinate streak farther and made me unable to back down even if I wanted to.

"Then what about you, aniki? Why didn't you straight up deny those accusations and put Kinkaku and Ginkaku in their place? If we're talking about causing trouble to the Nanzenjis, you should've responded at that time and nipped the very possibility in the bud. It is your fault that Gyokuran wound up publicly embarrassed like that."

Unable to refute that statement, my brother finally got angry for real.

"...Were you born specifically to make trouble for me?"

Speaking of how hard the head of my brother was, it was as rock-hard as eggs that'd been thoroughly boiled in the cauldron of Hell for 3 days and 3 nights. I understood that that disposition of a hard-boiled egg of his and the concern for his three younger brothers, who happened to be a frog, an idiot and a little boy, was what made him want to vocally encourage and lead us to the right path, and that he was like that precisely because he gave thought to the Shimogamo family's future as the young head of said family. Nevertheless, his statement that made it sound like I was born into this world for the sole purpose of causing him trouble was clearly too much.

I cooped up in an elm tree in protest.

"You hurt my feelings deeply. So I'm not coming down until you get on your knees and apologize." "Whatever, have it your way. I see that the saying about fools and smoke being fond of high places is quite true." "Go ahead and try telling that to a tengu."

The next day, I still sat in the tree top, and my brother, fed up with my antics, stopped talking to me.

I climbed the tree out of worthless stubbornness, but now that I thought about it, sitting in a tree during this particular season that made your butt all damp from humidity was a surprisingly comfortable way to spend it.

Away from the ground below, I wandered from a branch to a branch, listening to the rustling of the endless rain hitting the forest's canopy. Leading a life up in the trees, the more I watched my family bustle below and visitors come and go along the road to Shimogamo temple, the more I experienced the magnificent feeling of approaching tengu, remembering how Akadama-sensei used to tie me up to the top of the giant cedar in Kumogahata after giving me a good scolding when I was little.

From time to time, my little brother, having packed a thermos flask and steamed buns in his backpack, would climb up the tree to where I was and ask me with concern, "Nii-chan, you still not coming down? Are you going to live in the trees until you die?" "No way!" said I, stuffing my cheeks with steamed buns. "Oh, what a relief. Mother was worried you might become a tengu if you keep this up. You shouldn't make mother worry so much."

T/N:

[*1] Sakata Sankichi (坂田三吉): a legendary shogi master (1870-1946) who was known for his imaginative and novel moves, some of which became conventional later on and even have his name. [*2] Denki Bran (電氣ブラン) lit. Electric Brandy: a classic Japanese brandy first produced more than 130 years ago (in 1882) in Asakusa, Tokyo, in the period when Japan opened up to the West and its rapid westernization started. You can still find it, if you look, and I hear it's not too expensive. What the Ebisugawas produce is a knock-off of that. [*3] Kaisei (海星): this name consists of kanji for 'sea' (海) and for 'star' (星), thus the comparison to a meteor. [*4] Shogouin daikon (聖護院大根): a sort of turnip that's used for both their tops and roots; is considered a traditional Kyoto vegetable, irreplaceable in winter (jp wiki) [*5] 'Drunk elephant', 'Prancing stag' (酔象　踊鹿): pieces that are used in a few variations of shogi, mostly obsolete, such as shou-shougi (small shogi), chuu-shougi (middle shogi), tenjiku-shougi (indian shogi), tai-shougi (grand shogi), dai-shougi (large shogi), daidai-shougi (huge shogi), taikyoku shougi (ultimate shogi) and makadaidai-shougi (ultra-huge shogi) [*6] Jizaiten and Gozu Tennou (自在天王 牛頭天王): Jizaiten is a deity guarding the 12 sacred directions, represents the highest state of existence before achieving enlightenment. Gozu Tennou is a protective deity (against illness) and the deity of Yasaka temple in Kyoto (not wiki)

[alindakb]

Letters to my Parents - Monday 16 November 1992 - by Alinda

Monday 16 November 1992

Dear mom and dad,

Things have gone from bad to worse. It seems everyone thinks I’m the heir of Slytherin. There’s this boy in Hufflepuff named Justin, he ran away from me one day when I wanted to great him in the library. And Ron and Neville don’t want to be seen with me either. None of the Gryffindors wants to by the way. I’m not allowed to eat at their table anymore. I tried to explain that it wasn’t me, but nobody seems to want to listen. Only Hermione and Blaise still hang out with me, and the girl Blaise has been hanging out with. Her name is Luna and she’s a bit crazy, but I like her. She doesn’t seem to care about what happened at all.

Hermione has been reading a lot the last two weeks. She feels stupid that she didn’t bring her copy of Hogwarts, A History, because all the copies of the library had been taken out by other students. She wants to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets. She even asked about it in our History of Magic class last Wednesday. It was a nice distraction during the boring class. Professor Binns just talks in his flat drone like an old vacuum cleaner until nearly everyone in the class is in a deep stupor. It was my favourite class at the end of last year because it was the one where Draco would play with my hand all class. And now the only thing I can do is daydream about how amazing that felt and how much I want it back. But he’s sitting with Pansy now. I think they are dating. That’s what everyone has been saying at least.

But like I was saying, Hermione disturbed the History of Magic class last Wednesday. Professor Binns was droning on about the International Warlock Convention of 1289 when she put up her hand and just asked point blank if the professor could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets. Well, that woke up everyone in the class. Professor Binns told us about the founders of the school and how Salazar Slytherin wanted to be more selective about the students who they would admit to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. It turned into this big argument between Slytherin and Gryffindor and Slytherin left the school. And the legend goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing, that could only be opened by his own true heir to unleash the horror within, to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic.

Everyone was very excited to learn more about this Chamber, but professor Binns said it was all nonsense. That the school had been searched and that no such chamber excited. I didn’t really listen to all the questions the other students threw at professor Binns. I was more worried about Draco’s pale face. He had been looking out the window since the chamber had been brought up. The whole subject made him feel uncomfortable and that worries me. What if he knows something about all this? What if he’s the one who wrote that message on the wall and petrified Mrs Norris? Would Draco really be capable of doing that?

And then this Friday Hermione was crying during breakfast. She was sitting far away from Ron and he kept giving her dirty looks. As soon as she left the Great Hall I followed her. I asked her what was wrong. She just shook her head, grabbed my arm and pulled me up the stairs. We walked a little until we reached the wall with the writing about the chamber on it. Filch still hasn’t found a way to get it off. Hermione pushed open the door to the girl's bathroom and pulled me inside. It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom I’ve ever set foot in. Hermione walked into one of the stalls and set down on the toilet seat. Before I could even ask her again what was going on, Moaning Myrtle floated towards me and told me that this was a girls bathroom and that I was not a girl. I told her that I was just there to help my friend. Myrtle took one look at Hermione and asked if she wanted to kill herself. And then she went on that she wanted to kill herself last Halloween after Peeves had been mean to her, but that she remembered that she was already dead. She let out a tragic sob and then dived into the toilet, splashing water all over the place. I could still hear her sobbing from the u-bend.

Hermione had calmed down a little by then and she was able to tell what had upset her so much. It seems that last night she and Ron had a fight. Ron doesn’t want her to be friends with me anymore. And when Hermione told him no, he broke up with her. I know they had also already been fighting on Wednesday, after class. Ron had said something bad about Slytherin and Hermione had defended me. But they love each other, so I had thought they would be okay. Clearly, I was wrong. Hermione is really sad about it all, but she said she had promised me that we would stick together in this place and she was not going to break that promise. I told her she didn’t have to, that I would be fine, but she wouldn’t hear it. I was her best friend and she knew I hadn’t done it, so there was no reason to stay away from me. And if Ron wanted to be a stubborn ass-hole (yes Hermione really used the word ass-hole, I couldn’t believe my ears) than she was better off without him. I’m really glad she said that, because I wouldn’t know what to do without her.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson is also a horror these days. Professor Lockhart hasn’t brought any more living creatures into class, but instead just reads passages from his books. He always wants to re-enact the more dramatic bits and I’m always the person that is picked to help him with these reconstructions. I’ve been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart had cured of a Babbling Curse, a yeti with a head cold, and a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since he had met Professor Lockhart. And this Friday I was hauled to the front of the class to act like a werewolf. He made me howl and moan. Wow writing it down here makes it sound even worse than it already was. Nott and Crabbe have been re-enacting it all weekend.

And then this Saturday Draco had his first Quidditch match of the season. Slytherin was playing against Gryffindor. I know he was nervous in the way he snapped at everyone. And for the first time since I had made friends in Gryffindor, I didn’t at all feel conflicted about which team I should be cheering for. With me in the black books of the Gryffindors, there would be nobody giving me a hard time for cheering for Draco and our own house.

So as soon as it was eleven I made my way over to the Quidditch stadium and found a place at the back of one of the stands. And then the game started. Draco was good. Stealing the Quaffle from the Gryffindor team and scoring some good points. But then everything went wrong. One of the Bludgers kept aiming for him. Whenever the Beaters whacked it into a different direction it would just change direction in mid-air and shoot straight for Draco again. Draco had to manoeuvre hard to avoid it. I was glad Draco was so skilled on a broom, but I was scared for him.

I didn’t matter what the Beaters did, the Bludger wouldn’t stop attacking Draco and it became impossible for him to score any more points. With the Slytherin Beaters focused on keeping Draco safe, the other Chasers were having a hard time, giving Gryffindor the change to score a lot of points. And on top of that, it had also started to rain. It was clear someone had tampered with the Bludger and I wondered who would want to hurt Draco. What had he done to anyone lately? He just kept to himself most of the time. He even spends less time with Pansy these days. So maybe he’s not dating her.

Well, he probably is, since she was the first on the field when the Bludger got past the Beaters and Draco got hurt. It smashed onto his elbow and Draco broke his arm. He almost slid off his broom but was able to keep a grip with his legs. But the Bludger went for him again, going straight to his face and I was afraid Draco would die. He didn’t. He managed to swirl to the side, but it made him lose his balance and he fell to the ground. With a loud splattering thud, he hit the mud.

Draco just lay there on the ground, passed out with his arm in a weird angle next to him. I struggled not to cry, seeing him lying there like that. I wanted to go down and make sure he was okay so badly, but I know he wouldn’t have wanted me to, so I just stayed put and the back of the stand.

I was relieved when he woke up, but not when I saw that professor Lockhart was leaning over him and tried to heal his arm. I don’t know what happened, but I think he only made it worse. Pansy screamed at the professor for some minutes before she and Goyle escorted Draco to the hospital wing. It looked like his arm was all elastic when they moved him.

We did win the match by the way. In all the commotion nobody had noticed our Seeker catching the snitch, but he did and we won.

That evening I waited until everyone was asleep. I then took my invisibility cloak and made my way to the hospital wing. And you won’t believe what I saw when I got there. That silly house-elf Dobby was there with Draco. Draco was sitting upright in his bed, talking with the elf, like he knew him. I moved closer to them so I could hear what they were saying. Dobby was telling Draco that if he didn’t want to go home he should stop writing in the diary, that it was dangerous, that he would endanger Harry by doing so. Draco responded with that Dobby didn’t know what he was talking about, that he had no right to meddle and should go home. And then Dobby asked if Master Draco didn’t care about my welfare. But I never got to hear Draco answer the question because someone else was coming.

Dobby disappeared with a loud crack and Draco slumped back into bed, his watery grey eyes on the dark doorway to the hospital wing. I couldn’t look away from him, he looked sad and lost. Maybe he does still care about me.

Only moments later the door opened and headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall came in carrying what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall went to get Madam Pomfrey. It seemed there had been another attack and this time it was Colin Creevey, the Gryffindor first year that used to follow me around at the beginning of the year. He was also petrified, still holding his little camera in his hand. When headmaster Dumbledore took it and opened the back a jet of steam hissed out of the camera. The inside of the camera was melted and I wondered what that mend. I still need to tell Hermione; maybe it will help her in figuring out what is attacking everyone.

And then headmaster Dumbledore said the worst. He said the Chamber of Secrets war indeed opened AGAIN!

I found Hermione the next morning in Myrtle’s bathroom. She’s avoiding the Great Hall and library since she and Ron broke up, so this had become our new place to hang out. She’s still heartbroken and says she understands now why I want to go and watch Draco play Quidditch all the time. I’m glad she finally understands, but I’m also sad about it. Now we are both heartbroken and sad all the time. Well, at least we still have each other.

I told Hermione about my trip to the hospital wing and how I found out that Draco knows Dobby, the house elf that had stopped my letters from arriving this summer. And how headmaster Dumbledore had said that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened before. We speculated about how a monster could get around unseen. Hermione thought it maybe was capable of making itself invisible or disguise itself just like Chameleon Ghouls. She had read about them somewhere and I joked she reads too much.

And now it’s Monday and the news of Colin’s attacked has spread through the entire school. The first years are moving around in tight-knit groups. Some of the older children are selling talismans, amulets and other protective devices. And everyone seems to believe I attached Colin. The rumour is that I was sick of him following me around with his camera. And somehow Crabbe had realised I hadn’t been in our dormitory when the attack happened, so he now also believes it was really me. He looks scared now, he’s not boasting anymore, but avoids me like everyone else. Even Blaise tries to speak to me as little as possible. Only Nott still thinks it’s one big joke that I’m the heir of Slytherin. I’m only a half-blood so I can’t possibly be the heir according to him.

I hope others will start listing to him soon because I hate how everyone looks at me like I’m some dangerous person.

Draco is okay now. He was released of the hospital wing on Sunday. Pansy is pampering him ever since. I don’t think he really likes it, he keeps pushing her hand away every time she tries to stroke his hair. His watery eyes from the hospital wing have been hunting me. I see them every time I close my eyes. They looked so hopeless and sad. I think something bad is going on with Draco. What if my dreams are coming true? What if he is ill? So ill he might die? Mom, I’m scared. How do I get him to talk to me, to tell me what is wrong? I need to help him, need to be with him.

I don’t know what to do.

I love you both, I’m going now. I just want to be alone right now.

I promise I will write again soon and I’m sure everything will be better by than. It has to be. I hate school like this. I hate my life if it’s always going to be like this.

Your Harry James Potter.