#that little wooden boat got more attention than anything else in that scene

[shlutmeow]

why are caitvi haters bringing up when caitlyn threw the wooden boat at vi in s2 as if vi got hit by the titanic? like bffr, cait threw it out of frustration/anger she felt with herself when vi called her out on her actions. it can also be viewed as metaphorical for how their relationship was sinking due to cait’s anger, i thought we all knew that…

[brideofcthulhu10]

I know I ask alot but could you do a story about the reader getting kidnapped and being held hostage against the boys as black mail or something and the boys coming to save them.

Don't even worry about it! I don't want any of you to feel guilty about multiple asks, there are no limits! Ask as much as you want.

So this is a bit rough, but I will defend my portrayal of the Frog Brothers. Remember they were willing to stake Star and Laddie TWICE, even when they were helping them, just because they were half vampires. A girl and a little boy were still a threat. With that being said, I hope you still enjoy

Taken from Your Bed

Fem!Reader x Poly! Lost Boys

CONTENT WARNING: Blood, Gore, Offensive Language, Subjects of Torture

The idea of a polyamorous relationship was something you had never considered in 17 years of living. The whole idea sounded so complex, sharing someone you loved with multiple people, or multiple people sharing and loving you? It just sounded like a huge mess.

 But when it came down to it, you could never choose between the beautiful vampires that had become absolutely smitten with you. What had started as a summertime time fling with the youngest and most perfect glam rocker, Paul, had evolved into a blossoming romance with his brothers. Late summer nights of riding through wind-warped beach dunes and cool morning naps were your new life. Your house had never really felt like a home even before you were coaxed into the arms of your blood sucking princes, and soon you just stopped coming back. Honestly they didn't even look for you. You'd be eighteen soon, you had graduated early from high school, there wasn't exactly much else to be done. It wasn't a surprise that your family was indifferent, you always questioned whether or not your parents had even wanted children. So, in the dark of the night they swooped in, liberating them of your belongings, and your presence. No note, no farewell, just an empty room with empty drawers.

Some days it would depress you. The subtle rejection hurt, but those days never lasted long. Any signs of tears and they'd be piling on you with a plethora of love. Paul would always remind you it didn't matter. You were with them now! Anyone else can burn in hell. The old cove where Star had slept was made up for you. They were more than happy to trash anything belonging to that treacherous girl. Battery powered fairy lights were hung across worn wooden bed posts, streams of colorful curtains kept you well shielded from any intruders, a mountain of stuffed toys from various trips to the boardwalk decorated the floor and your bed. They even managed to dig up a dusty old dresser for you clothes, and amongst your glamourous new cave dwelling, more often than not at least one of the boys would share the bed with you. On special occasions they'd all fall asleep with you in the middle between piles of plushies and pillows. Each one loved to spend time with you on and off the boardwalk. 

Marko was up for absolutely anything as long as he could be with you. You'd read out chapters of The Outsiders while he burrowed in your lap, just entranced by your soothing voice. He'd beg you to sing to him, just to get a glimpse of what that entailed. You could sound like a dying seagull and he'd still call it a serenade. On lazy days he would let you practice painting his nails when you got bored, or brush his hair. That was his favorite. Paul would whine that he wants his hair brushed too, only for David to interject that it's his turn next. Yes, even David loves having your attention on him. When you aren't sitting pretty in his lap, he's laying lazily against you while you run your fingers through snowy blonde hair. If you get him relaxed enough he'll let out a low, growling hum. You started calling it a sleepy bear sound. Your time with David was often mellow, wrapped in his arms while he read. Eventually you'd grow curious and peek at the pages, asking him to read out loud. "Only for you kitten." He'd whisper.

Dwayne could braid your hair for hours, telling you old stories his granny would tell him passed on from centuries. Your favorite is the wendigo, the story of settlers driven to cannibalism after being trapped in a cruel winter, doomed to roam as superhuman beasts. It makes you wonder if what they had seen were ancient vampires? He'd chuckled, throwing in a casual "maybe" then ask if you wanted feathers woven in your hair as well. Uh, yes please! Dwayne always made sure you were taking care of yourself. If you hadn't eaten that day it was suddenly top priority. He'll remind you the importance of 7 cups of water a day, plenty of rest- until you point out he does none of that. He'd then argue he's undead, that doesn't count. 

When Paul had his turn he'd be ecstatic. You'd both head bang to blasting music off the rock box, fix each other's hair in wild teased messes, sneak in a bit of heavy petting. Watching tv became a staple thanks to some rusty generator you "found" on a fisherman's boat after he… disappeared under mysterious circumstances. With a bowl of popcorn he'll pop in a scary movie, savoring those jumps that made you hide in his chest. It was too adorable! As soon as the other boys saw you two watching a film they'd all join and Paul would huff about his private time being commandeered. 

Even with all of this, you had still decided to remain human much to their dismay. It wasn't that you didn't want to be a vampire. But after the Frog Brothers nearly wiped them out, the boys needed someone to be a daytime watch guard. You weren't supposed to fight anyone, just raise an alarm if there were trespassers. The thought of that made you pout. It's not like you couldn't handle yourself. Sure you weren't Bruce Li, but you had a few street brawl victories under your belt. You could certainly handle those Frog dorks.

 Or so you had thought. 

That night you were absolutely positive no one had seen you, you certainly weren't supposed to be seen. It was 4:35 am, almost the entire boardwalk was scattered by now with most of the families long gone home. The lights were being shut off, rides had been closed hours ago. Only a few party animal adults still lingered at the bars making last calls, lazily returning to their beds after a draining night. A dense fog had started to roll in, coating the moon and beach in a haze. The foreboding swoon promised possible rain the following day. Taking advantage of the ethereal beauty the night was, you had lured two absolutely wasted surfer guys that had been stumbling across the boardwalk now eagerly following you through the misty sands expecting a night of thrills once you reached the caves. Calmly humming, you dragged your toes over the damp sands while wisps of ocean waves tempted to reach your feet. At the last stretch you waded through the shallows, cautiously climbing up onto slick mossy rocks when you reached the mouth of the cave. "C'mon boys. My friends are just dying to meet you," you purred. 

The high fives and penis innuendos were short lived when a flurry of dark figures swooped them into the air. You simply say atop the wet rocks with your knees delicately held against your chest. The screams and gurgled cries were lost to the ocean, and soon a familiar face poked from above looking into the cave. 

"Peek-a-boo," Marko teased, hanging off the roof of the cave before swinging next to you. "Have I ever told you, you have awesome taste in meals for a human?"

"Is that you, or the boozey blood talking," you asked with a giggle, smearing the blood off his cheeks to steal a quick kiss.

"Bow don't go taking all of her, Marko." You looked up, watching David swoop in coated in bloody stains with Paul and Dwayne trailing behind. 

"Sorry I could only bring you five people tonight guys, the fog coming in scared off whatever was left on the boardwalk. I barely caught those last two leaving the bar."

"Don't even kitty-cat, you already brought us way more than we expected," Paul protested, hanging on your shoulders from behind. 

Dwayne nodded, still leaning up against the soggy cave. "Five is enough to keep us full, princess, you did plenty." 

So with another successful night of feeding the boys were left ready to rest as 5 am rolled around. The sun tempted to rise before they had reached the cave, the boys slipping away to their dark hovel after giving you a mess of good night, or rather, good morning kisses. Although you often went to bed shortly after a night out, this morning you felt a surge of energy keeping you up. Thankfully it was a gloomy grey sky, causing minimal sunlight to burst through the slivers and cracks leaving the possibility still open that one of them would come to sleep beside you. Until then you chiseled away the boredom with a pair of headphones and a pile of comic books, flipping through the pages with eager anticipation for the next scene. Two hours barely dragged by, leaving you rolling over your bed in misery. Staring at the ceiling you debated sneaking into the cave. Maybe drag a blanket and a pillow, cuddle up on the ledge.. and then David would give you an earful for not only sleeping where you could fall but climbing through the tunnels. Oh well. It was only- 7:30 am. Perhaps you should spend the day out? But, something felt off. 

You sat up, pulling off your headphones trying to listen for anything out of the ordinary. There was a disturbing still to the room, even the ocean sounded distant.

 Then without warning, a firm hand clamped over your mouth from behind. You tried to wildly thrash and scream, but the sounds were heavily muffled under the thick layers of a towel. There seemed to be another who was running in front of you to grab at your wild legs still getting in every possible hit you could. They were whisper-yelling, demanding you keep your voice down. To hell with that! You managed to kick one in the face! The struggle dragged out for easily five minutes by this point. It always seemed to work faster in fiction, instead it dragged out for what felt like forever. The scent burned your lungs, it was getting harder to breathe, your resistance wavered as the drag of exhaustion continued to claw at your eyes. Your violent thrashing became a few heavy swings of your shoulders, until you could barely move anymore. It was impossible to fight the monstrous sleep they forced you into. Your body dropped into unconsciousness, finally able to breathe as you slipped away in the darkness.

Marko stirred in his sleep, swearing he could hear you screaming just outside. It wasn't until he opened his eyes that he was able to relax. Quiet as the day is long. It must've been his imagination. 

Flutters of light faded in and out of your peripheral vision. The more you saw, the more you heard. Two grumbling voices bickering back and forth. 

"- I say we should just ice her now!"

"Not until we can smoke the rest of 'em out! A vampire rarely travels alone these days! The rest of them won't kill us as long as we have her!"

A verbal groan alerted their attention towards you as you shifted in place. It was still daytime, maybe mid afternoon? You honestly couldn't tell. When you tried to sit up you felt a sharp, worn resistance that kept your arms firmly in place. The rope rubbed your wrists raw. Your boots couldn't get any traction on the floor, it was covered in dust and old hay. Finally you were able to see those responsible for your capture. 

"Oh you have got to be kidding," you announced, glaring at the two camo-clad brothers posing like suburban commandos. This was some old dusty barn, and you were kidnapped by the self proclaimed vampire hunters of Santa Carla, the Frog Brothers, Edgar and Allan. Typical.

"So, you guys have gone from murder to kidnapping. Well, I guess that's progress."

"The only murderer here is you, blood sucker," Edgar gruffly retorted, pointing a freshly sharpened stake in your face.

"Vampire? I'm in the sun you idiot!"

"We all know about you half bloods being in sunlight, you can't fool us." You didn't even realize the tall one spoke. His sneering upper lip wouldn't cease to display the disgust he held against you. 

"You two must be sniffing too much old newsprint," you snorted. "There's no such thing as vampires."

That's when Edgar got close, tilting your chin up with the stake. "We saw you drawing those civilians to the cave for your little monster buddies." 

His words hit you heavily. You were certain you had been careful, utterly positive. Instead not only had you been tailed, you had exposed the boys to a group of radical nutcases ready to kill. Now it was personal. Steeling your resolve, you took in a deep breath. "So what?"

Allan yanked you by your shirt, looking back into your eyes with his own hate. "Where are the others," he hissed. 

With everything you had you tilted your head back and bashed your forehead against his. The force made your ears ring. They always did it in the movies, but no one ever said just how much it hurt. There was a dull sting where your skull had taken the brunt end of the attack while it traveled all the way to the back, a small trickle of what you could only assume was blood dripping off your forehead. Meanwhile the teen had fallen onto his back atop the filthy floor still grasping his forehead with a groan, Edgar jumping up over Allan ready to drive that stake into your heart. 

"No!" Allan grabbed his brother by his shirt, just before it came inches to your heart. "We need her alive… for now."

With a smirk you sloshed around the spit in your mouth. As soon as Edgar turned to face you, you sent the congealed saliva in a forceful blast across. Direct hit. Edgar wiped away the disgusting phlegm off his eyes and in his rage quickly uncapped a bottle of holy water. Yes, a full water bottle of it, and doused you in it. 

Great. Now you were tied up. bleeding, AND WET. You gave them a disinterested glare, cocking an eyebrow. "So, again, not a vampire. Believe me now?"

The two looked at each other and quickly huddled. They would mutter amongst themselves, occasionally peeking above to glare at you and your rolling eyes. Alright, so you were human. Even a head vampire couldn't be out in daylight, and half vampires couldn't handle holy water. But in a way that only made it worse! A living servant of the undead, a spy to lure helpless victims into their grasp, a caretaker of evil! A traitor to your own kind! That settled it then.

Groaning even grew tiresome by this point. You tried to wiggle out of your crude bonds, but you had to give them some semblance of credit, this was a damn good knot!

"Alright," Edgar boomed, catching you off guard. "You may be a human, but any ally of the undead is still an enemy, and we're not showing you an ounce of mercy!"

Allan nodded, and suddenly the atmosphere took a turn for gloomy. He watched with disinterest as you tried to wedge your heel into the ground to scoot away from them but it seemed to have no use. The struggle had you thrashing until you lost balance, flopping over on your side. He stomped over and wrenched you up by your shirt, this time keeping a cautious distance from your head.

 "If they're keeping you alive.. they must think you have some sort of value." Alan finally knelt down to your level with your shirt still clutched in his left hand, brandishing a hunting knife with the right. The glint of it shined in your eyes in a cruel afternoon glow. In its looming reflective surface you could see your own e/c eyes as wide as saucers. They didn't see you as human. You were an ally of their greatest enemy, just as "evil" as the vampires they were so determined to hunt. Being human was no longer a bargaining chip to prevent injury. "Call to them."

Your teeth ground until they hurt, jaw locked in place. "Go to fucking hell," you hiss. 

Before you could land another blow to Allan's smug face, Edgar had grabbed you from behind to keep you in place. The blade lightly caressed the flesh of your upper arm, catching the folds of your skin leaving tiny knicks. It tempted the surface to break beneath it's cruel will as Allan repeated his command through gritted teeth. "Call. Them."

Threats of torture weren't enough to break your silence. Fine, so be it. The tip dug into your arm, skin peeling away in a stream of ruby leaving a trail behind. You sucked in a sharp hiss, but bit on your tongue before you could yelp.There was no way you'd let them get to the boys. If you had to die so they could live, so be it. You wouldn't let out so much as a whimper. Do your worst.

Late afternoon dragged out, clinging tightly to every ticking second until the sun gave way under its own weary weight. The moment night lifted, crowing hoots echoed the cave. Freedom at last! Paul swung out of the cave brimming with excitement, Dwayne flying out behind him and crashing onto a couch leaving a cloud of dust for him to sneeze out. David was the last to waltz out, looking towards your corner. Odd. You were usually the first up to greet them. It'd become almost expected by this point. Sensing David's confusion along with his own, Marko gleefully jumped down from the rafters over debris to reach your bed. Someone was certainly sleeping in!

"Y/N? C'mon baby girl, wake up! Time for..," he paused, pulling away the curtains to find your bed a disheveled mess. Your cassette tape had been eaten to shreds by your portable player, magazines and books thrown on the floor, wads of sheets kicked off topped by discarded plushies. "Guys, c'mere!"

Dwayne quickly jumped up, expecting you to be snuggled in bed like a baby bird in its nest. Instead he stood beside Marko and looked past the curtains at the disarray your little corner had become.

 "Since when does Y/N go out this late at night," Paul questioned from behind the two. Whoa, did a tornado come through here? He hopped over, pulling the trashed tape from your player. 

"She doesn't," David said slowly, a flood of concern spilling into his head. Fully pushing the curtains away they all stepped in, looking for any sign of where you had gone.

Paul managed to wedge out the mess of black threading and plastic, getting a good look at what you had been listening to. Def Leppard's Hysteria Album. He had scrounged up some dough a few months ago for your birthday, you guys spent the whole weekend listening to it. For some reason you liked their gifts even more when they didn't just steal them. This was your favorite thing from him.. you'd never just leave it in the player to get trashed. "Dude what happened here?"

 David lifted your blankets, noticing an unfamiliar scent intruding over your delicate aroma. Someone else had been here. Someone who shouldn't have been here.

Marko was able to catch whiff of a gnarly chemical scent, bitter. Crouching down, it was almost missed. Amongst your belongings was an unfamiliar towel stained with some sort of fluid. Peeling the soggy rag off the ground he took a whiff and immediately scrunched up his nose. "Hey, David, man. Smell this. Is it familiar?"

David caught the drenched towel tossed his way and barely had to smell it to recognize the stench. Throwing it down he began storming out, standing in the center of the room trying to listen for your heartbeat. None. 

"What is it? Where is she," Paul demanded. This was getting to be too much. 

"This isn't a coincidence boys," David hissed, looking their way. "Someone took Y/N. That rag was drenched in some sort of concentrated chemical."

The boys grew solemn, David's words setting into each of them. Paul was enraged, already his red eyes seeping through. How dare anyone take you from him! He'll rip them apart!

Marko's silence held a cruel storm ready to burst, biting on his thumb to stifle any unsteady rage. All he could picture were horrid images of you being hurt. Fear and guilt overwhelmed him. That wasn't a dream, he really had heard you earlier crying for help. The shame of it made him clench his eyes shut. A cacophony of blame riddled his heart knowing you had been taken just beneath their noses. He shouldn't have left you alone, he should have checked on you the moment he thought something was wrong!

Dwayne stood in silence, slamming his fist against the wall. Crumbles of concrete dusted his busted knuckles that quickly healed in place. You were supposed to be theirs, and he failed to protect you! "We have to find her," he choked out, pushing a mess of black hair from his furrowed brow. The not knowing was killing him. It was killing all of them. You weren't just missing, you were stolen while they slept only feet away. 

Even David felt an internal rage unlike anything he'd felt before, not only at the perpetrators, but at himself. A beast among men, eternal life with a bounty of strength worth a thousand. What fucking good was it when while he slept you were torn from your bed? But another thought sat heavy in his heart. Their hearing was impeccable, damn near perfect. Why hadn't you called them? A scream, a cry would be enough! He began to march over to your bed again, but a new perspective had just granted him a moment of clarity. Hidden just under your blankets was a broken strip of red cloth one could only assume was a headband. Clasped tightly in vengeful fists, David's eyes turned bloodshot. He knew exactly who took you. 

You weren't even sure how many hours had gone by at this point. The brother's grew restless at your resolve. While they regrouped in the corner to reevaluate their plan, you had found a nail jutting out from the floorboards to scrape your ankles on, slowly sawing away the worn rope that kept your legs together. Any movement stung. Cuts decorated up your exposed thighs and arms. Fresh blood caked over dried wounds, dirt became mud by this point from the excessive wounds and had smeared up your legs. They had conflicting feelings about throwing any swings your way. You were surprised to hear Edgar verbally voice his hesitations regarding unleashing a blow on a girl. Allan stepped in, but came to the same conclusion that he couldn't hit you. Well, after four good catches to your face. Utterly moronic, a knife was far more painful. Perhaps it gave them some sort of distance from you, punching was just too personal. Still, your busted lip was not appreciative of the last minute sentiment. Part of you wanted to mock them. If you're going to kidnap and torture someone go all the way at least, don't puss out half way through. But, you had other plans. You rapidly ran the rope across the nail while they bickered back and forth, nearly there.. and then you heard a massive thud land on the roof. 

No. No not yet. You quickly dragged your feet as fast as you could while the brothers flew into a panic. But now your feet were free. Using your knees you hoisted yourself up to the nail, rapidly dragging your arms across to saw the straw away. Edgar and Allan began checking each other for weapons, and right as the rammed into the door again your wrists came free. Right!

You dashed for the brothers, snatching the bottles of water and dumping out every drop into the ground. They ran to grab you as you tried to bolt out the door, almost able to see Marko in the air above when suddenly someone had grabbed a fistful of your hair. That was enough to make you scream. A chunk was ripped from your scalp, the rest still tightly grasped in Edgar's fist. 

David watched you bolt out the rickety old barn, ready to fly down to you until they caught you in their grasp. Paul didn't even hesitate once they snatched you back, that is until he caught sight of a shimmering glare wedged tightly against your throat. 

"Get back," Edgar demanded, twisting your arm. The pain rang up through your back to the point you feared your shoulder was being pulled out of place. Your breathing began to become shallow when something cold slid on your throat, Edgar's free hand pressing the blade to your throat so tightly a thin line formed beneath it. 

"You're fucking dead, you little shit," Marko hissed, jumping off the tin roof. 

"M-Marko," you whimpered. You didn't dare move an inch. 

"Back off death breath! Or your little pet becomes your next meal!"

With that warning Edgar tilted the blade just beneath your chin. 

You tried to pull your head back to keep your distance from the foreboding piece, looking at Marko with fear. 

"I'm sorry…"

Marko took a step back, unsure of how to approach this. Any moves he made could result in you being taken. He could see the barrage of wounds coating your skin. It made his shoulders shake, just aching to rip this punk's head off. 

From inside the barn Dwayne hovered over the rafters, shattering the bulb that provided the only light in the room. Left in the dark, Allan grasped at the wooden stake in his hand. He could hear Dwayne rapidly flying through the barn, but he could never move fast enough to see him. "Come out you coward!" 

Allan's scream alerted Edgar to his brother, turning his head just soon enough to watch him bled dry. Dwayne pried his fangs from the limp teen with a disgusted snarl in the dark, chucking the corpse at his brother's feet.

"NOOOOO!"

You took the chaos as an opportunity to escape, knocking his hand off of you and trying to bolt forward. Paul flew to snatch you, his hands tightly wrapped around yours when he heard the most hideous sound. Flesh tearing, bones cracking under the pressure with squelches of blood pittering down into the ground. His fingers trembled watching your delicate face drop in horror.

Edgar stood behind, only seeing the red of his rage as he drive the knife further into the small of your back. "Die you witch bitch!"

Those were his last words as David jutted his hand through Edgar's chest. You screamed in horror watching Edgar barely have a reaction to his own heart being held outside his body, collapsing into a hollow husk of flesh. What air you had was rapidly escaping your lungs, falling in a cascade into Paul's arms. 

"No, no no! Y/N!" He dropped to his knees, holding you tightly against him. David knelt down beside you two, Marko running and skidding on his knees beside you while Dwayne leaned over you. They were all holding back tears, David's hand brushing over the hilt of the knife still jutting out. 

"I'm so sorry," you hiccups between tears, fingers tangled in Paul's jacket. "I co-couldn't… let them g-get you."

Marko shushed you, running his fingers through your hair. "Its okay baby girl, we know. Just hang on, okay?"

David wedged you into a sitting position onto his knees, looking at Paul. "As soon as I pull," he began, pushing your hair away from your neck ", you bite."

The suggestion sent chills through you. "B-but.."

"Y/N, kitten, it's right through your lumbar artery," David whispered softly, lightly tapping the hilt with his gloved hand sending a dull pain through your entire back. "This has gotta come out. But when I pull it out, you could bleed to death."

"Please don't leave us, baby girl." Marko held your hand, looking at you in fear. He wasn't ready to lose you. None of them were. If you had to turn to stay with them, they'd do it in a heartbeat. 

With a slow breath in, you hugged yourself against David and closed your eyes. Paul moved beside your neck as instructed, but Dwayne and Marko each took one of your wrists in their grasp. They all wanted to turn you. "O..okay.. d-do it.."

David kissed your cheek softly, clutching his hand around the knife. It hardly put up any resistance against his vampiric strength. You, on the other hand, couldn't help but cry out. Tears flooded your face, nails dragging against David's jacket. When they could see the tip of the blade surface, Paul dove his fangs into your shoulder. David bit into the left side of your neck, while Marko and Dwayne tore into your wrists. What should take hours only took moments. 

Marko held onto you, closing his eyes tightly trying to muscle through your agonized cries before pulling his mouth off. Tears spilled from Paul's eyes, tearing away before he lost control. The taste of your bittersweet blood lingered on his tongue. Dwayne and David held you in place, and finally you had felt your heart stall, then stop. 

You didn't need to catch your breath anymore, there was no longer any breath left to catch. "I'm sorry… I'm so so sorry,:" you whimpered, buried against David's chest. "Th-they had holy water, they were going to ambush you… I-I couldn't risk it.."

"No more, kitten," David shushed, holding your head on his chest. 

"Don't worry about it princess." Dwayne ran his hands over your hair, kissing the top of your head. "This won't happen again."

"We are never letting you out of our sight again," Marko cooed, nuzzling your hand against his face. Paul gently kissed your available cheek, looking up at the black sky shifting to grey. "Guys, the sun's comin' up."

"So it is." David lifted you bridal style into his arms, kissing you softly. "Let's get you home babygirl. Tonight we'll take you out for your first hunt, but for now, you need your rest."

A burst up wind carried you off into the air, holding on tightly to David as he flew you over the ocean, above the clouds, back to the safety of the hotel. Your home. Forever.

[waonderers-of-the-storyversum]

Chapter 1

There once lived a young lass with eyes of chartreuse green.

Her head full of studies, her heart full of dreams.

One night she slept, but her life wasn’t over jet when a truck slammed into her room.

For her neighbour it came but it was a pain meeting him in the streets.

So, find him it shall, even in dark depths of hell, found him in his sheets.

In dark blue of night, as it’s surely right, a new world opened up for them,

no matter of where, no matter of when the truck-chan still inevitably came.

---

 “Shiz!” a young girl uttered when she opened her eyes and didn’t see a ceiling above her, “I thought people can’t get isekaid in quarantine.”

“Jaja [yaya]?

“…why is my voice so high…?”

“Jaja? Is that you?” She finally noticed a stranger’s voice calling out for her. As Jaja franticly looked around she noticed a boy in his preteens. She didn’t know the face or the voice but she knew that hair colour.

“Hibiki, that’s you right?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“I knew you were a fricking MC with that hair colour!���

“It looks like we are in someone else’s bodies but I still have this gold blue hair, bit weird, ey?”

“Well, at least you don’t sound like an eight-year-old…”

“Jaromíra Šafránová [Yaromeera Shafraanovaa], I’m afraid that you are an eight-years-old.”

Jaja looks at herself in panic. She has the body of a child. Dirty scrawny arms, long fingers. She quickly gets up. Oily black hair falls over her eyes.

Hibiki starts laughing at his friend’s expression of sheer surprise.

“Shut it! You’re like what? Twelve?”

“Still better than eight!” He also gets up and dusts his clothes. They don’t look good but they aren’t the rags of homeless orphans.

‘Aren’t his hands much cleaner than mine? Like they never worked in their life…’

“Wait!” Hibiki screams.

“What?!” Jarka screams back as she nearly falls from being torn out of her thoughts.

“Are we sexed correctly?”

They look at each other in silence. They quickly cheque their surroundings and looked under their clothes.

“You correct?”

“Yeah,” Hibiki lets out a sigh of relief, “and you?”

“I’m correct.”

“I’m really happy that I don’t have to be trans in ancient Asia.”

“Ancient Asia…?” Jaja looks around more carefully and realises that yes, yes, they indeed are in ancient East Asia. She lets out a heart-rending screech. This finally attracts the attention of other people.

They woke up behind the houses of a small village that has just one main street and that’s it. Small wooden houses. Thick straw roofs. They looked familiar to both of them.

From a narrow alleyway between the cottages, a scrawny boy came running.

“Xiang (響echo)! An (安calm)! I finally found you guys!” said the boy as he was catching his breath. “What are you even doing here. Looking for you was a pain!”

“Brother, who is this? I don’t remember him!” Jaja asked frightened, trying to act her age. She ran towards Hibiki and clung to his sleeve.

“We are really sorry, something happened and we don’t remember anything. Are you our friend?”

“Oh! That’s horrendous! Can you at least remember who you are?”

They both shook their heads with an apologetic look in their eyes.

“So, I will tell you!” This boy was too energetic. “You are Xiang,” he pointed on Hibiki, “and you are An! My name is He (��lotus but as that is too feminine, he writes it as 河river). We all are orphans from the streets but the people of this village take good care of us. As nobody knows to which family we belong, we decided to take the village’s name as our own. This village is called Zhuquan Yu (竹泉峪bamboo spring valley), so my name is Zhuquan He!”

“So… I am Zhuquan Xiang…”

“Yes!”

“And she is… Zhuquan An…?”

“Uhm!”

Jaja hesitantly walks up to Zhuquan He: “So you are our older brother?”

“Well yes. Yes, that’s exactly who I am!” exclaimed Zhuquan He with a wide smile on his face and petted Jaja’s head. “Let’s come now, today we are helping uncle Yu with rafting bamboo down to Zhuqiexiao Cun (竹切削村bamboo cutting village).”

As they walked, they both couldn’t take their eyes off the sights around. Zhuquan Yu stood on a side of a slowly slopping hill. Everywhere where the eye could see there were colonnades of bamboo, their stems lightly dusted, giving them a silvery glow. When the warm spring breeze that was singing in the bamboo leaves parted them enough, high light-grey rocky peaks could be seen. Their tops still powdered with glistening snow.

They went over a shimmering river coiled around the village. Its joyful burble flowing from under the bamboo bridge. The path of flat boulders they were following was still wet from morning dew. They heard the river all the way while walking through the bamboo forest. It was always near. After a while, the bamboo stems started to stand more apart from each other. Cold wind from the rocky peaks blew on the faces of the three children. It played with their hair, passed them by and disappeared in the calm forest. Now they could hear the muffled sound of axes chopping down bamboo stems.

“Wow…” Jaja verbally marvelled at the scene that opened up in front of them. They stood at the foot of one of the rocky peaks. In its side, a gaping mouth of a cavern was showing its deep lightless depths. From this cavern, a lake was flowing out. Crystal-clear waters from the cave system flowing to the sunlight. The mountain wind rippling its surface.

“So, this is where the river comes from.”

“Exactly. We use it to transport the bamboo to Zhuqiexiao Cun where it can be processed.” As Zhuquan He was saying this, they noticed a man maybe in his twenties waving at them from a bamboo raft. “That’s uncle Yu. He is in charge of transporting the bamboo.”

 Zhuquan He started running. “Let’s hurry a bit, we’re late as it is.”

“Little He, what took you so long?” uncle Yu asked playfully.

“Sorry uncle Yu, it took me a while to find those two. And I’m sorry but today will be a bit longer than usual.”

“And why would that be?”

“You see, something happened. An and Xiang, they… they lost their memories…”

“It’s that so,” uncle Yu raised his gaze, “you two can’t remember anything?”

“Yes, we are sorry uncle Yu…”

“Why’re you apologising, boy? I doubt that it’s your fault.”

“But maybe we offended someone!”

“There is no one you could have offended,” uncle Yu shook his head, “not many cultivators with that kind of power come here. I haven’t seen one in years.”

Hibiki and Jaja looked at each other. ‘So, this is a xianxia world, how interesting.’

“Come now, kids. You don’t remember how to raft bamboo so we’ll have to teach you, right He?”

“Yes, uncle Yu!” a shadow from He’s face disappeared, “Come on guys, it’ll be fun!”

All kids ran toward Yu Shun. Two other men came out of the forest carrying another batch of bamboo stems. They carefully put them in the lake and left.

“I’ll get them!” Zhuquan He ran up to the new bamboo. He confidently stepped on one of the stems took another slightly narrower from the water and started floating back to them, pushing the other stems on his way.

“Xiang, come here and get the rope,” uncle Yu called on Hibiki. Hibiki carefully stepped on the bamboo raft. He thought that it would sway as boats do but it didn’t. He took the rope that was on one end of the raft and copying uncle Yu fastened the next stem to the rest.

“An,” Zhuquan He waved at Jaja, “you’ll help me to push the bamboo that is brought from the forest to the raft. So, uncle Yu and Xiang can tie them together. And I will teach you how to float on a single bamboo!”

“Ok. But I’m a bit scared brother He. What if I fall?!”

“Don’t worry! I’ll catch you if anything happens!” he said with a smile and floated to the edge and stepped on the ground. “You just have to stay balanced. It’s not that hard!”

He took Jaja’s hand and she tried to get on the bamboo but failed miserably. She expected that the water will be ice cold but to her surprise, it was quite warm. ‘There must be a thermal spring in the cavern.’ Zhuquan He pulled her out.

“Well, I shouldn’t be surprised but still…” he sighed, “An was always so good at single-bamboo drifting.”

“Sorry…”

“Eh? Don’t worry about it. You will get the hang of it eventually.” He looked over to the bamboo raft. “You know what? Go help uncle Yu with the tying and Xiang can try the single-bamboo!”

Jaja smiled and shook her head in agreement. “Hi-Xiang! Older brother wants to teach you how to float on just one bamboo stem!” She stepped on the raft and nearly fell again. ‘Hibiki made it look so easy.’ She really carefully switched places with Hibiki.

“Could uncle Yu show me what knot is he using?”

“Of course. Here, take a look…”

While Yu Shun was teaching Jaja how to tie the correct knot, Hibiki walked to Zhuquan He. He cupped his hands and said jokingly while bowing: “Master, show me your arts.” As he looked up with a silly grin, he saw Zhuquan He stroking his chin like if he had a beard of an old wise master.

“Yes, come disciple. I shall teach you my ultra-secret technique!” he announced in an important voice. “Firstly, you have to feel the bamboo, create a connection. Then you have to walk upon it!” He graciously stepped on the stem. “And now you stand on the boundary between the water and the air. You have to be balanced as all thing should be.”

He got fully immersed in the role of the great master. Hibiki took this opportunity to poke him. As expected, Zhuquan He lost his balance for a moment and nearly fell.

“Hey! That was rude of my first disciple!” complained He, dropping the accent.

“I apologise my master. I just wanted to touch your greatness!”

Trying to withhold laughter Hibiki ran to the next batch of bamboo and stepped on one of the stems. Jaja was watching him carefully from the raft. Hibiki didn’t falter, the bamboo didn’t sway. He floated there with an elegance of a heavenly fairy. ‘How the frick?!’

Jaja wasn’t the only one that was surprised. To be honest it couldn’t be clearly decided who was the most surprised one. Hibiki was like: ‘This happened twice. There must be something amiss.’ Zhuquan He was pondering if he should always act like an old wise master when teaching single-bamboo drifting, is it more effective? And uncle Yu was trying to remember where he saw such natural talent for balancing and elegance.

“Maybe muscle memory?” Hibiki tried to cover his own surprise.

Hibiki and Zhuquan He were pushing the bamboo and uncle Yu with Jaja were tying the stems together to form rafts. They were working relentlessly until the sun swung to the other half of the day. When they finished, nine rafts were floating on the lake. They joined them one after another to form a chain of bamboo rafts.

“Ok, now to float them to Zhuqiexiao Cun,” said Yu Shun while waving on the bamboo cutters as they were leaving after their work. “The river is calm today; it won’t be hard.”

“Uncle Yu, can we go on ahead then?”

“Yes, He. I won’t need your help for now.”

“Come on Xiang! I’ll race you to Zhuqiexiao Cun!” announced Zhuquan He with a wide smile. Well, Hibiki didn’t want to say no and he also wanted to test this newfound way of transport.

“I’ll be right before you!”

“Cocky, are we? You shall not beat this great master!”

“Every great master has to be outgrown by their apprentice! Prepare for your defeat!”

“Want to die, disciple?!”

“First, you’ll have to catch me, great master!” and with smiles on their faces and laughter in the air, the race of master and disciple began.

“There they go… Little An, why such a long face?” uncle Yu turned toward Jaja who stayed on the raft with him.

“It’s nothing uncle Yu. I was just thinking.”

“Is it about the single-bamboo drifting?”

“He just stepped on it!!! For the first time that he can remember and he is perfect at it!!! Whyyy???!!!” Jaja gestured wildly.

“Well, some people are just natural, I guess.” Yu Shun untied one of the stems and tied it back but with rope between the raft and now separated stem. Jaja looked on a bit puzzled.

“Come, now you can train your balance while we raft.”

‘Such fatherly eyes. Such an encouraging smile. I hope he doesn’t do something immoral by my standards. Well, we are in ancient Asia, who knows if he beats his wife or gets blackout drunk with wild fits when on the border of consciousness. I hope not.’ Jaja slowly walked to Yu Shun.

“Uncle Yu are you sure that this is a good idea? I have a hard time to walk even on the raft itself.”

“Don’t worry so much or I’ll think that you are an old woman,” uncle Yu extended his hand. “Practise is always a good idea and we are going slowly enough. I can hold your hand and if you fall, the water here is calm, nothing bad will happen.”

“Ok, I trust you, uncle Yu.” Jaja took his hand and carefully placed her foot on the bamboo stem. It went as well as you can imagine. She slipped, she fell, she was wet from head to toe again. The water was still warm, so that wasn’t a problem, but the bamboo was getting more and more slippery every time she tried to step on it again. After a while, she was even more wet, sweaty, with few bruises and a hurting ankle.

“Why is it, that everything that looks so pretty is so hard to learn!”

“Maybe you are just tired now. But you could stand on it for a bit.”

“Yes, but only when uncle Yu was holding me tight. When uncle Yu loosened his grip, I immediately fell.”

“But it’s still progress,” uncle Yu lovingly put his hand on her head. “You must look on what you can do, not on what you can’t or you’ll become frustrated by the amount of things you want to do and you’ll never come around to actually doing any of them.”

"Uncle Yu is so wise.”

“Well, it’s just what my moms told me…”

“Either way, it’s wise to remember what parents teach us.”

“Yes, that is true…”

Meanwhile, Zhuquan He and Hibiki drifted as quickly as one can drift on a calm river without a rushing stream. Their taunting calls carrying across the water. Twisting and turning on the coils of the river. Its’s rippled surface shimmering in the afternoon sun. It didn’t take long for them to reach the bamboo bridge. Few moments after and they were floating by Zhuquan Yu.

“Brother He!!! Brother Xiang!!!” joyful calls were coming from the riverbank. Few little children were sitting on the soft green grass encircled by a flock of chickens. Few of the hens were even sitting in the children’s laps.

‘Jaja will be ecstatic when she sees those chickens.’ A fond memory of her seeing chickens popped into Hibiki’s mind. ‘She always says ‘chickens’ in that silly voice when she sees some.’

“Xiang! I don’t think you can afford to be zoning out!” Hibiki was swiftly overtaken by Zhuquan He.

“Well, at least I’m not the one who needs their opponent to be distracted for them to win!”

They were drifting further. Walls of bamboo on both sides of the river gave it a cosy vibe and the warm glow of the Sun extenuated it even more. They could hear the songs of many birds that were nesting in the bamboo forest. In one meander they startled a small herd of musk deer that came there for a drink.

Now they could see the buildings of the Zhuqiexiao Cun in the crevices between the bamboo. Grins on the boys faces widen and their hearts started to beat ever faster. Even the taunts that were flying back-and-forth between them came to a stop. Droplets of the shattered river surface shimmering on their faces. Trills of the songbirds were nowhere to be heard. And in this silence of suspense, Hibiki heard a tone. And then another. Music, quieter than the breath resonated in his ears. With no instrument and with no source. The music was fast, exciting. Short notes with high energy. Not that different from the sounds of shamisen but still somehow off.

They turn around the final corner. Welcomed by the first houses of the Zhuqiexiao Cun. Drifting by them Zhuquan He calls on Hibiki: “See the stone bridge? Who touches it first wins!”

[mandalorian-bitch]

Behind the scenes

The Mandalorian Modern AU.

Pairing: The Mandalorian x fem!reader

Summary: You are a photographer and a cosplay convention worker. Nothing really interesting happens at these events, but this one... this one brings different feelings when you met that man wearing a glowing helmet.

Warnings: none.

A/N: Well, it is my very first time writing some mandalorian stuff. I'm sorry if it's a little too long and boring, I promise it will get better with time. I actually saw a mandalorian cosplayer at a convention I've worked last year so somethings here may be real. Since English isn't my mother language you may found some grammar errors while reading and if you do, please, let me know so I can fix it :). Hope you enjoy this!

----------------------

You always liked cosplay, it was never a secret. In the beginning your parents thought it was just a hobby, then they told you it was madness and a total loss of time spending months organizing an event and then more hours strolling with a camera in your hand. But then they understood that it makes you happy, in your way of being happy.

It is almost a relief, both for you and for anyone who participates of these events, being who you really are. The vast majority awaits a whole year for the convention, it's like one of the few places where you can act according to your strange taste for space wars or romance about vampires. Or more recent, the k-pop fans. Once a year, you are not the weird nerd who sits alone at lunch break. Everyone there is in the same boat to suffer bullying from elementary school to college, even at work, but there we all are the same.

Cosplayers carry a little bit of each character with them, and they seem to do the magic of movie superheroes as they enter a dark alley like civilians and get out of there in extravagant fantasies. Their look changes, so as their physiognomy, all insecurities, low self-esteem, anxiety and the many social issues that plague most of us simply stays outside the event. People stop them while walking around the event, asking for pictures in character poses, and most of the time it's you who takes the pictures. In addition, you help them to wear the clothes and everything, like a staff. It does not pay much, but it already helps until something better comes up. You graduated at Design school about two years ago and has been a difficult time for professionals in this area, now that anyone downloads Photoshop and some more templates ready for small companies and many of them prefer to pay less for it. Still, you have good friends and they always designate you for some freelance that pays enough to insure yourself for a month or two, until something new appears. Being a photographer helps too, since being at an event full of people wanting good photos already yields a few hundred in your Paypal account. Most cosplayers look quite eccentric, in fact, and barely speak. When they speak, they do not leave the character in a scary, but funny way at the same time. Leaving insecurities without becoming one asshole is very difficult in these cases, but some are nice people. Like a guy who always brings his girlfriend to the event and every year they wear a different cosplay couple. This year, he was Han Solo and she was Princess Leia.

“Hey, (y/n)! Can you take a picture of us?” the boy approached, smiling, holding his girlfriend's hand.

“Sure!” You adjusted the focus of the camera the moment an armoured guy passed behind them.

You have seen that model of armour, of course. There is no way to forget Boba Fett's armour. You didn't know much about the culture involved, but remembered that there was some race or creed and thought it was cool. You could imagine the work he must have done to assemble each piece of this armour. It was silver, with very good details, as if he really was using steel and had been fighting against a dragon or something like.

Anyway, it caught your attention.

The couple moved closer to look at the photo and a second of you looking at the camera, still a little fascinated by the figure, was enough to lose the sight of him when you looked behind them again. Curious. You showed the photo to them while still looking around, looking for the armoured man who walked so calmly a few seconds ago.

“Thank you!” The girl smiled, looking at the photo. When she noticed the figure glossy in the background, her eyes sparkled. “Woow! Is this a Boba Fett or what?!”

“I thought the same thing! But I don't think it's exactly Boba.” You smiled, putting a lock of hair behind your ear. “If you guys find him, say that I want to take some pictures, something for… the event.” They waved and kept walking.

When you thought you saw the helmet strolling through the crowd again, Greef Karga, your supervisor touches your shoulder and makes your attention turn to him.

“(Y/n), I need you to help with some troubles in the dressing room, silly thing but they need someone with experience in dealing with those dickheads” He sighed. Greef, a black guy over fifty years. He also wore a dark blue shirt with the logo of the event as you did and had a moustache. He was like a second father to you, and always supported the event and even got you some freelances.

“Alright.”

The problem in the dressing room was between two women, one using a blonde wing and the other, using a long, red wing. The ‘blonde’ one swore that the redhead had stolen her blue eyeliner and the redhead, in addition to denying it, swore even in her mother’s name that the blonde one had stolen her Lancôme foundation. Nothing that had never happened before, but it was certainly something that should not spread out through the corridors.

“This red bitch steals my eyeliner! This is absurd, is there no security in this place? Cameras?” said the blonde, her wig gave an extra head on her size. Her makeup half-finished and still wearing only the pants of what would be her cosplay.

“Not here, because you change clothes in here.” You started, in a calm voice. Saying ‘please, calm down’ isn’t the better thing to say to someone who’s clearly not at the mood to calm down. The best thing is to transmit this through your voice and the way you look. “Have you looked calmly in the bags? Maybe near the mirrors?”

“I already showed all my things to this bitch and she keeps accusing me!” The redhead spoke between her teeth, her blue eyes burning in anger. She was wearing a 20 centimeters high heels and a white dress that make her look like a Greek goddess.

You started looking around, but to no avail, while they keep yelling to each other. It was better to find at least one of the things before they started to fight with the wooden swords they brought, if so things were going to get really worse. The anime songs playing in the background didn't help much and more and more cosplayers approached to ask what was going on.

There was nothing more hateful than kneeling on that floor, full of fantasy remains, hair - some wigs, others were real hair - feathers and scattered glitter. But still you got on your knees and started looking as fast as you could, touching under the various suitcases left on the floor and asking for permission where you were crawling. Until you look under one of the dressing room mirrors, the ones with the lights around, and see a clear bottle. The damn foundation must have fallen and the redhead, so worried about something else, didn't notice. The bottom of the bottle had “Kayla” written with red nail polish.

“Who's Kayla?” You asked.

The redhead looked down and her face fell into an expression that seemed a mixture of shame and joy at finding the base.

“See it? I said I didn't stole anything!” The blonde said, sighing and looking to you “How cool, she got the damn foundation back. But where's my eyeliner?!”

“Is that an eyeliner?” a modulated voice echoed behind you.

Slowly, you stood up and looked back to face the armoured man. He was pointing to the blonde, but not actually to her. It was something at her. You were very impressed with the voice, the helmet must have some technology stuff that could make his voice sound this way and it's amazing. Not every cosplayer pay attention to this detail when wearing a character that wears a helmet. It looks like there’s no difference, but it actually does.

Here are you again wondering about the “silver Boba Fett” (that’s how you decided to call him in your mind until remember what character he’s wearing).

“Can I?” he asked and after receiving a nod from the blonde, he approached her carefully.

You, Kayla and two other cosplayers were watching the scene. Lightly, he removed something caught between her huge hairstyle, without ruining the whole thing.

“Here you got.” He gently said with a smooth chuckle in the end.

“T-thank you". It was almost a whisper. She received the eyeliner and looked down.

“You’re welcome.”

“Apparently it was with you all the time.” You said, shrugging your shoulders and making a ‘I told you to look calmly to things, girl’ face.

They were both embarrassed, but at least they had stopped accusing each other and cursing in every possible way.

“I think it's everything okay now, right?” You asked and they just waved, without looking at each other. “Well, good luck in the competition, girls!”

“Sorry for the uproar...” Kayla looked at your little badge, with an expression still a little embarrassed.“(Y/n), thanks for your time.”

You smiled in a corner as you looked for the armoured man. “and you-"

He was no longer there. You stared at the place where he should have been, and for a few seconds you looked around, but to no avail. It was funny to still look for him, even though he is just a stranger with a very good cosplay with whom you would like to exchange a couple of words, take some pictures, maybe have a coffee...

After leaving the room, a cosplayer dressed as Geralt of Rivia approached.

A guy of almost two meters, in full costume and holding the saddlebag with both swords, looked like a wall standing in front of him.

“Hi, uh... I wanted to register for the contest, can you help me with this, (y/n)? - His voice was deep, but it didn't seem to have anything to do with the character, as he sounded naturally strong and calm. After a while in this environment, you learn to differentiate.

“Ah, yes, I'll take you there!”

---

You stepped away from the crowded areas a bit and went close to the backstage, texting other co-workers to see if anyone needed any help somewhere. There always was, but no one answered in a while, so you got a sandwich in the cafeteria and leaned close to the staff room to eat where the crowd didn't seem to notice you. Behind a big event, a lot happens. A lot of things go wrong, but also every little thing that works, each small problem solved without causing curious eyes, was a big good thing to the convention. The work was simple, in general, and you didn't have much to worry about except the public's entertainment and mainly: Don't annoy cosplayers. They suck at observing and praising good things, but are quick to see any loose wire on the wall to complain about the risk of electric shock on social media. Of course not all of them were like this but still, there are always a dozen assholes to ruin your year-long job in a few minutes by typing 280 characters on Twitter.

But the armoured guy... He seemed to be oblivious to the two types mentioned. You didn't see him in the dressing room, when you had to go there, or at the event's photo studio. There was always a glimpse of the shiny helmet standing out from everyone, and you always gave a silly little smile when he waved that helmet to you. And it's very important to remember the helmet, because you haven't seen it without it all day. And you have been curious, curious to ask several silly questions.

Did he not eat all day? Worse, didn't he drink water?! You finished the sandwich with that feeling that you should see if he ate just to see if he would agree to go to the cafeteria with you later. But of course you got busy sometimes, so there’s no way to be a stalker.

“(Y/n)??? HEY!” Greef waved his arms in front of your face, as if he wanted to wake you up from something, but you weren't sleeping-

Oh.

“Oh, sorry, Greef. I got distracted” You hugged yourself awkwardly.

He shook his head in disapproval and opened the employees’ room door to show you something.

“Well, there are some boxes to carry to the warehouse, back there.” he pointed to the other side of the place. At least you wouldn't have to go through the crowd, you could go behind the stage and then through the sides.

An easy work, however, there is always something heavy to do. You agreed and saw the image of Greef Karga getting lost among the nerds he hated so much, precisely because he was one of them since the 1980s. You faced the three boxes, probably full of cables and other production's stuff and ran your hand through your hair to arrange it in a high bun, so it wouldn't disturb you.

You carried each box out of the room and stacked the three outside, closing the door. Okay, you can do it.

Can't you?

Carrying all three at once would save time and of course it was unreliable to take one at a time, leaving it alone and being stolen, who knows? You bend down to try to load them, but it was kind of obvious that it wouldn't work. You try again and even let out a few grunts, but it still doesn't work. The crowd in front of you remains like a cluster of ants that have something better to do and by the rules you should never accept help from anyone but your co-workers.

“Alright.” You sigh and take out your cell phone, texting your closest colleagues.

Nobody answered, nor even read. In half an hour you should be on stage as a good staff and help the cosplay competition.

"That sounds heavy," again, the modulated voice caught your attention.

The helmet's T-visor focused on your eyes, you could feel it.

“Yeah... I don't know if they do this to me because it's my first year at this convention, I had worked in many other but-" a sigh comes out of your lips and he analyses you carefully, with his hands at his sides. “You don't even have to hear that, I shouldn't complain about these things with a-“

You stop when you were going to say something wrong, at least for the situation.

“With a strange nerd wearing an armour and a toy gun around his waist?” His metallic voice sounded serious, but in such a serious way that it was funny.

You kind of laughed, looking around.

“It was just a joke, I guess” he added and then laughed too.

His laugh send a heat to your heart.

“I didn't want to-, I don't even know which character you are, you know... I'm sorry for that, but I really have to start carrying this.” You try to change the subject.

“Would you... would you like some help there, (y/n)?”

The way he says your name behind this half-robot, half-Iron Man effect, sent a shiver down your spine. I wasn't the first stranger to say your name, of course, you carry a damn name tag on your chest. And you would love to accept help, but you shouldn't accept it or someone could see it and then you would lose the next two days of the convention by being fired.

“I thank you, really, but if someone see-"

“No one will see, I can walk behind the stage.” he pointed to the dark part where only employees pass from time to time.

“I can't, really” You smiled in a corner and held the first box in your arms, when an idea came to your mind and you looked to him. “Actually, you can help me...”

He approached the boxes and you put a hand on the path, almost touching the breastplate of the armor. He looked at you, probably confused under the helmet.

“You stay here and watch the two boxes while I take this one. So you help me and no one notices.”

“Okay, I can do this.” His voice sounded amused and you could feel his grin behind the helmet.

“You stay, okay?” You straightened the box in your arms and started walking. “Keep your beautiful armor right where. Don't move"

He laughed and raised his arms as if surrendering. So you kept walking to the dark part of the stage, walking slowly. Halfway there, you thought that you being followed by someone, but it was just an employee passing by quickly without looking at you.

When you arrived at the warehouse door, you turned your back to push this and went in that way with the box still in your arms. Walking around the warehouse was a little difficult with the amount of boxes lying on the floor, especiallyin low light, so you took a look at the box label to find out on which shelf you should leave it. Leaving the box in place, you turned to go back and gave a surprise look when you saw the two other boxes at the door, with a handwritten note on top of these.

“It is a mandalorian armor :) - D.”

A silly little smile formed on your lips and you kept the note.

Of course the most sensible thing to do, having just a few minutes until the competition, was to organize the boxes. After doing this, the first thing that comes to mind is looking for the guy with the helmet in the place where you supposedly left.

But there was no sign of him.

---

After touring the rest of the event trying to find the mandalorian, you gave up. Maybe he got tired of walking around with the costume, or him got too hot to stand with this or he simply had something better to do.

You just sat next to the stage, in the last hope of seeing you going to the cosplay competition in the shiny armor he wore. Each person who walked to the stage caught your attention, but none looked like a mandalorian, and neither they wore a similar armor.

After all, why was it so important? Armor guys comes and goes, it's not the first crazy person who incorporates too much the character to mess with you feelings. It's just a helmet fetish or something like that. There was once a guy who was cosplaying Halo's Masterchief; also had the red Power Ranger, and a black one, and pink ranger too... One time or another you would find him, or find a Boba Fett, who knows? There is still two days of event to find out.

Still, it was funny to remember how he disappears in the crowd, like he didn't really wanted to be noticed. But why the hell he wouldn't want to be? Himself chose to wear armor and come to a cosplay event, and walk around with all that bounty hunter's way around the place pulling out the eyes and whispers from all the nerds girls - and some guys too. And even though perfect in what he set out to do, apparently he doesn't want to be seen. And well, he kind of helped you solve two problems on the same day.

“And to close with a golden key, we will receive with a round of applause the our Witcher, Geralt of Rivia!” the female voice that announced each cosplayer made the thoughts stop a little while you enjoyed the perfect cosplay that paraded on stage.

The colorful lights danced as the cosplayer walked and shook his swords, even put some sound effects behind to bring a little more magic at the moment. Everything in the place became magical, in fact, the very energy that cosplayers exuded behind the stage was full of adrenaline and a touch of anxiety. But still, it was a very good energy. They felt alive to be there, to show that they trained and decorated each step of the character and that they could show it in front of the almost four thousand strangers without fear.

And when you looked at the audience, there he was, standing still and calm as he was all day. You wondered why he didn't sign up for the parade, and why he would still be there if so. The figure shone on the stage lights, with his hands on the bottom of his belly, and looked around like a security camera. It was funny, until he stopped and seemed to be staring directly to you, but not in a totally scary way.

Okay, a bit scary.

The audience went crazy with the cosplayers' performances on stage, you caught yourself with a open mouth now and then. Everyone clapped by the end of the parade and dispersed for a few moments, until the time the result would be announced. This take about 5 minutes at most, so you had to be quick and organize the awards together with Greef and one more intern, Rose. She was always so kind and very friendly to you, so that was easy to get everything prepared in a few minutes and you get up to the stage and gave the woman who presented the competition, so you could run to your comfortable spot behind the stage.

“Well guys,” she started saying in the microphone, looking for the paper on her hands. “It seems like we have our very first two finalists of our cosplay competition today!”

Everyone in the crowd clapped and yelled in excitement, but for the thousand time when you searched for the mandalorian he just disappeared. Well, in the end, he's not the ‘to be found’ type, but the ‘to find you'. So you had an idea.

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A/N: Thanks for reading! :)

[toastscraps]

Daystar

              I blame @linkeduniverse  by @jojo56830 ; It made me get a tumblr (and discord) account and write a fanfiction for it. I don’t own the characters, (Nintendo created them, jojo perfected them, I just play with them.) Based on the discord writing prompt, “Hope, even in the worst of times.”

I was stupid and did the bonuses, too:

- 3k+ words (turned into 12k +)

- Link-centric with a Link you’re unfamiliar with (I’ve never played any of Wind’s games, and avoided his character on Smash because I didn’t like the design. I have done my research and now understand the error of my ways.)

- Prompt incorporated (near the end of the fic)

- Fight scenes incorporated (yes, but not very good ones)

Warnings: Blood, gore(mostly minor), angst, injuries, major character death(s)

Other Warnings: poor writing and pacing, characters may be OOC, author is not good at writing emotions

Summary: Wind wishes to prove himself- he makes a mistake and tries to fix it. It only gets worse from there.

I apologize ahead of time for this monster.

               They were in Time’s Hyrule, surrounded by Peahats and Stalchildren.  Time was not happy because Wild, Hyrule, and Warriors had been fooling around and had awakened the Peahats. To make matters worse, due to the Shadow’s interference, Stalchildren (which hadn’t been around for years) had risen again and had been enhanced to the point of only being affected by fire and bombs (which Wild had discovered by accident). At most they could use their swords to push them back and gain a little room to blow them up. It was very… loud and explosive. Twilight was the only exception to the rule, his strength cracking bone on impact as he pushed with his shield and kicked with his iron-toed boots. He would shoot a bomb arrow occasionally, but he mostly stuck to brute force tactics. The others had their own ways of dealing with their enemies. Time was on the other side of the fight, using Din’s fire to roast the Stalchildren around him.  Sky was taking down Peahats with precise movements, Four getting under the blades and stabbing upwards into the soft flesh without somehow getting decapitated. Hyrule had enflamed his sword with magic (or something) and was using it to take down enemies left and right. Legend was, of course, fighting with an efficiency that would be sure to make even the greatest veteran fighter jealous. He somehow knew exactly where his enemy was going to be, and was able to place bombs right where multiple Stalchildren were about to appear. Warriors was taking out waves of the skeletons just by swinging the fire staff.

               And here Wind was, rolling and ducking to get to a place where he could hit a plant with a sword to kill it. Sure, it had deadly blades, but he was a hero. He should be better than this. Wind had run out of bombs earlier, forgetting to pace himself, and was now relegated to fighting the Peahats, which weren’t the ones he was familiar with, which Four had discovered could be killed by slicing at the roots multiple times. They never rested or went back into the ground, and seemed strangely sentient. Wind ducked the sharp leaves, wishing he either had more bombs, or had more brute force. Either would be preferable to this dodging and moving to get into a good position to target the roots.

               Wind was finally able to down his monster, and looked up to see Twilight knock the head off of one of the Stalchildren with a well-placed blow to its jaw with his shield. It walked around aimlessly, as if looking for its skull, before Twilight knocked it over with a kick to its shins and it retreated underground. The charred bones of the other skeletons disappeared into the ground with shadow rising up in a mist and blowing away on the wind. Soon all that was left were the vegetable remains of the Peahats.

               Time sighed and allowed Wild to harvest what he wanted, looking around in disapproval with his patented “dad” face. Wind couldn’t help but feel as if it were directed to him. Sure, he took out a lot of creatures, but not nearly as many as the others, and it had taken him a long while to figure out how to get around the defenses of his own enemy and stab at the core.

               “And you guys thought it would be a good idea to awaken the Peahats, why?” Time asked a guilty Wild and nonchalant Warriors. Hyrule was trying hard to look ashamed, but mostly Wind thought he looked pleased with himself.

               “Never mind,” Time held up a hand, closing his one eye, “I don’t want to know.”

               “What should we do now?” Twilight asked. Wind wiped sweat from his brow. He didn’t know how the others made it look so easy. Sky seemed tired, too, but he was the only one.

               “Maybe we can make camp?” Sky asked hopefully. “It’s night already, and there’s no sense in travelling in the dark.”

               “All those for staying the night?” Legend asked, holding up a hand as if he were taking a vote.

               “No,” Time said. “I don’t think that would be wise. At least not here. We need to get out of Hyrule Field; if Stalchildren are rising again, we’re going to be fighting them all night.” The entire group groaned. “I know we all want to rest, especially after such a big battle, but we need to prioritize our safety above all else.”

               Four recovered first. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” He stalked over to where Time was already turning toward the Forest, which was only about an hour’s walk away. The others shuffled over, ready to leave as well. Wind, finally catching his breath, moved to catch up.

               “You holding in there okay, kid?” Warriors asked from beside him. Wind glanced over and huffed.

               “Yeah, I’m fine.”

               “It was a long fight,” Warriors reminded.

               “It’s okay. I’m good.”

               Warriors seemed to search him with his eyes, and then nodded. “Okay, but I’m gonna walk back here with you.” Quiet filled the night air as the earth cooled. The breeze felt good on Wind’s face, and he was glad that there was at least a little reprieve from their fighting. Time’s Hyrule had fresh air, a different kind from the great sea, and even a removed kind from New Hyrule’s. It was different, but good. Hyrule Field had once belonged to many farmers, Time had said, a long time ago, before most of Hyrule could remember, and before Time was born.  Then there had been a war. Then there had been burning and fear, and nations warring against nations, and Hyrule field was in the middle of it all. There men and women of various races fought and bled and died. It was a dark time, full of anger and terror. Fields of wheat that once grew and flourished under the sun were trampled and torn up and watered with sapient blood. Fences that had been raised under the care of farmers were torn through by heavily armored horses and knights. Homes were broken into and burned, and everything became tinder for the flames of conflict.

               Those who didn’t live behind the protective walls of cities and towns were the first to die.

               By the time the Hylian kingdom had won and united the country, the field had become a graveyard and a reminder of the sins of the land. But seasons passed, and vegetation grew; weeds flourishing in the baking sun and crisp-cool night. Shafts of grain, legacies of an ancient past, grew there too. At night the dead, long forgotten, were again remembered, and reenacted their ends in horrific mimicry. But the land was beginning to heal, and on the breeze came the scent of barley and wheat and the pollen of wildflowers flirting with the air. And somehow, even if it wasn’t his Hyrule, it felt like home.

               Wind released a breath and opened his eyes. It really was nice just to calm down, especially after a battle; even if he was practically worthless during it. “C’mon,” he told Warriors. “Let’s catch up with the others.” Warriors gave an amused huff and jogged with him until they were walking behind Twilight and Wild. Wild turned and grinned at them, and Twilight gave his hair a quick ruffle.

               There was a shift in the wind, and suddenly it didn’t smell like Time’s Hyrule. It smelled like a sunny day and salty droplets spraying from below. Time must have noticed as well as half the party, because they suddenly stopped. “Something’s about to–” Legend started. He didn’t have time to finish, because suddenly they were all standing on wooden boards, rocking to a perpetual motion. They all got sprayed with brine, and Sky nearly toppled over at one of the large waves.

               “Oi! What are you rats doing on my ship?” a rough voice called out. Lightning flashed, revealing a tall, thin-ish Hylian with dark bags under his eyes and a little lip fuzz. Wind recognized him immediately, and pushed himself in front of the rest of the group.

               “Hey Linebeck!” Wind cheered, gaining his attention.

               “Ki- Link! How fare you? How’d you get on my ship?” Lightning crashed and the ship tossed violently. Hyrule and Four were thrown off their feet. Warriors was visiting the side of the ship, and even Time was looking a little green. Sky was still trying to stay balanced.

               “It’s a long story. Mind if we take this down below?”

               “Sure- Hey, you! No vomiting on my ship! I mean it!”

               “Why are you up here in this storm? You’re not even at the wheel!”

               “What do you mean? I love untamed nature! The chaos! The grit it takes to be a man and to go toe to toe with the elements!”

               “…There’s a monster in the hold, isn’t there?”

               “I’ll go!” Wild offered quickly, and darted down the hatch. Even he was looking a little peaked.

               Wind sighed. “C’mon Linebeck. It’ll probably be dead by the time we get down there, anyway.”

               The rest of the Links began to follow, Warriors practically running.

               “Hey, you’re not going to empty your guts on my floor, are you?” Linebeck challenged.

               “There’s nothing left in there anyway,” Warriors muttered, ducking down below.

               “I’ll help up here,” Legend said. “Make sure we don’t crash into anything,” he said under his breath. He grabbed the wheel and held it firmly.

               “Don’t worry about crashing,” Linebeck called out. “There’s no land here for miles!”

               Legend frowned, and then returned it back to the way it was before. “Whatever; it’s your boat.”

               Soon they were all down below. Wild was gathering blue chuchu jelly into some jars, and Warriors was already looking relieved. Legend just looked nervous.

               “Ahh, this is much better,” Linebeck said. “So, now that we can hear one another, how did you get to this ship?”

               Wind explained why they were there, and who the other Links were. Time and Sky both spoke a bit, too, but Sky looked like he was about to sleep where he was sitting.

               “Hmm. I’m not sure I believe you, but you are all here anyway. Welcome to SS Linebeck! Don’t touch any of my stuff, and I’ll let you sleep next to the crates.”

               “How generous,” Legend said dryly. He shuddered at some invisible chill. “Are you sure you don’t want help in this storm?”

               Linebeck waved him off. “These storms don’t usually last long. Besides, the sails are down; there’s not much else I can do.”

               Wind was surprised Linebeck was allowing them to sleep down here at all, though, he reflected, it probably would have been in poor taste for him to start throwing the others overboard. “Good night, Linebeck!” he called.

               “Night, kid,” Linebeck replied and headed out of the hold to his cabin.

               “Well, that was interesting,” Hyrule said.

               “Let’s all get some sleep.” Time stood and began to unpack his bedroll. “We’re lucky we got teleported to an ally; let’s take advantage of the peace while we can.”

               Thunder crashed and boomed. The ship dipped back and forth like a child’s rocking horse. No one slept much that night.

               Morning came bright and early. Wind was already up on the deck looking out over the ocean. He took a deep breath of the fresh air and exhaled. This is what he’d missed most about his world; the freedom, the saline wind in his hair and the blue expanse of the sea. The sun had risen on a clear blue sky, and the visibility was amazing. Wind could see for miles.

               Then he noticed something out on the horizon. It looked like an island, but it seemed a lot larger. It cast a great shadow where the sea met the sky. Linebeck was standing at the bow, looking in the same direction. Wind ran up to him.

               “Do you see it?” the captain asked. “That, right there, is a new discovery! Think of the treasure one might find on an island like that! Why, who knows? Maybe we’ve discovered a new land! We could call it… Linebeckia! Or something. I’ll think about it.”

               The others trickled onto the deck throughout the morning, and by lunch they were almost at the shore. Linebeck didn’t have any means of cooking, and practically had a heart attack when Wild attempted to build a fire in the hold, so they had to either eat some of his jerky stores (which weren’t bad, Wind had practically consisted off of them for an entire pseudo-year) or wait ‘till they landed to have lunch.

               Sky was, as usual, the last one up, and by that time they were anchoring. The land was huge, larger than any island Wind had ever seen. Legend was eying it critically, and Wind thought he saw a good mixture of relief and something else when he found (or didn’t find) what he was looking for.

               They all got out and looked around. It seemed dead silent, not a soul or sign of habitation to be seen for miles around. “Not many landmarks around here for a treasure chest, are there?” Linebeck frowned. They found some driftwood drying in the sun and built a large fire there on the beach. Wild cooked up some fish they caught. Wind watched the flames while he ate, licking off his greasy fingers when he was done. He wished he could show the others his home; where Aryll and Grandma lived, and where the hibiscus bloomed on the beach in the light of the setting sun. But, he supposed, this was kind of nice, too. Seagulls cried well above them, coming close to the strangers that had food. Wild was trying to shoo them away from the cooking pot, which by now was cooling on the sand. Four was, uncharacteristically, lounging on the sand and soaking in the sun. Twilight and Sky had left to go scout the area in case there were enemies or settlements nearby. Linebeck wanted to go search for treasure, and Hyrule and Legend had offered to join, so they were out milling around somewhere, too.

               Wind wondered, suddenly, what it would be like for them if they left him behind. It was a strange thought, one he wasn’t used to contemplating. He was a hero, like the rest of them, and he knew it, but sometimes he just felt so…outclassed by all of them. He wanted to be more than just another one of them. He wanted to show them, to prove to them that he wasn’t the weakest of their group; that he wouldn’t hold them back.

               “Hey, kid, what’s wrong?” Warriors sat down next to Wind, having been in the middle of a conversation with Time moments prior.

               “Nothing. Why?”

               “You’ve been quieter than normal.” The young man picked up a stick from by the fire and used it to stir the dying coals back to life. “Did something happen last night that we don’t know about?” Suddenly he shot an appraising gaze up and down Wind’s body. “Did you get wounded?”

               “No,” Wind said quietly. “Just thinking.”

               “Well, that’s dangerous,” Warriors said, joking. He lifted his hand to ruffle Wind’s hair. “Don’t sit thinking too long, we like having you with us.” He dropped his hand from Wind’s head. “Do you need to talk about anything?”

               Wind shrugged. “I dunno. Nothing important, just thinking. Warriors, what do you think sets you apart from the others?”

               Warriors appeared momentarily surprised by this question, but recovered quickly. “Why, my devilishly handsome good looks, of course,” he smirked. “And I have more training and skill fighting multiple monsters at the same time, I suppose.” Wind nodded quietly.

               “And what do you think sets me apart from the others?” Warriors seemed very concerned about this question and was opening his mouth to answer when loud shouts came from the land above them.

               “Hey, guess what we found?” Hyrule asked excitedly, running down to the fire where they were sitting. He kicked up sand as he ran, getting some in the cooking pot, which Wild had just finished cleaning. Wild made a noise in his throat and reached in to try to clean it out again.

               “Let me guess,” Time said wryly as Linebeck came into sight empty-handed. “Not treasure.”

               “No, even better!” he exclaimed. “Come see!”

               Hyrule’s excitement was persuasive, and soon they were all following him back up the hill. Sky and Twilight were just returning from their scouting, and joined the party as well. Hyrule led the way forward, as Linebeck had excused himself, saying he had an errand that needed running and would be back in a few days. He’d hugged Wind and told him that if he found any treasure to let him know. Wind didn’t like goodbyes, but Linebeck had promised to return, so he didn’t complain much- he would see him in a couple of days.

               Legend was waiting for them at the top of a rocky cliff overlooking the beach further down. There was a rope ladder bolted into the ground that had obviously been there before they had. “Now, before we go down there,” he started without any preamble, “they may look different, but don’t attack them. They are really quite peaceful.”

               “Why would we want to attack them?” Sky frowned.

               “Someone startles easily and likes to swing first and ask questions later,” Legend said pointedly. Hyrule blushed.

               “No one got hurt,” he quickly clarified. “And they’re really cool, too!”

               “Alright, let’s get down there,” Time said, following Legend as he descended. Wind followed after, much to the protest of Twilight, who thought he should be next. He went ignored.

               When they reached the bottom of the ladder they followed the cliff to a cave entrance. It was dark inside, and it took Wind’s eyes a couple of moments to adjust. When they did, he heard a gasp behind him as Twilight entered. The people here were black and white skinned, with grey tones between, and teal symbols marking their chests. They were slender and towered over them on thin legs, their orange eyes observing every move. In one corner of the cave there was what appeared to be a strange mirror with runes running its circumference. The other corner was much more elaborate, appearing to have been carved out of stone by an ancient race. There was a stone door with carvings and ancient symbols with the image of a woman in the middle, holding up what appeared to be a stone with lines drawn outward from it. The rest of the party piled in, and the tallest of the group stepped forward to greet them.

               “Hello, I am Hambar, of the Twili. I have been delegated as Keeper of this sacred cave, and these are chosen ambassadors of the Light world. When the little one attacked, we knew that your party must be made of brave warriors.”

               “We do apologize for that, by the way,” Time said, stepping forward. “Is there anything we can do to make up for it?”

               The ambassadors shared a glance with the Keeper, and they nodded to him as he turned back to the group. “There is one thing you could do for us,” he admitted, “though we understand if you refuse.

               “You see, after the goddesses sank Hyrule, they approached us and offered us a chance at redemption. We were trapped millennia ago in the Twilight Realm due to our greed. Over the years we have adapted to our environment, and lost most of our magic. Some of us still have it, but we have all but forgotten the skills our sorcerer ancestors possessed. As such, we cannot enter the Light Realm without threat of death. The goddesses have given us this land, but it is impossible to leave this cave except at night. We don’t want to risk building when we might not get back below before the sun rises, and there is no cover for miles around.

               “But the goddesses have given us a way out. This is the Cave of Naeovi, and herein lays the Daystar, which can transform our people so that we may step into the light once more. Only one who is worthy can complete the Trials of Sorrow, which will unlock the Daystar and allow our people to live in the land we’ve been given. We’ve been waiting hundreds of years for our freedom.”

               “Why haven’t one of the Twili completed the trials?” Time asked from the sidelines. He was tense, and appeared suspicious.

               “All of us who wish to have tried, at one point or another. Young men and women, looking to prove themselves, place their hands on the Moonstone and try to gain entrance to the trials. Some are rejected; some make it into the trials but fail. No one has passed, and once failed the Stone no longer accepts them. No one who has been rejected has ever been accepted at another attempt, either. I myself tried every day for years when I was first made Keeper of the Cave. We are losing heart. But here we have fierce and brave combatants from the Light world. Perhaps we have a chance at redemption, now.”

               “And what exactly do these trials consist of?” Legend’s arms, like Time’s, were stiff and straight, like he was either preparing to grab his sword or turn and run.

               “We cannot say,” Hambar replied. “No one who has made it to the trials has spoken of them. We assume the Stone keeps them from sharing any information.”

               “I’ll do it,” Twilight offered quickly, stepping forward. “I’ll try the trials.”

               Hambar eyed Twilight critically. “Very well, I suppose you may. Just be aware that only one attempt can be made per day. And the challenger must have a light in them to rival the surrounding darkness.”

               Wind didn’t know what made him do it, but he walked up and stood next to Twilight. “No, I want to try first,” he said, heart pounding in his throat. Twilight turned and looked at him, surprised, as if he hadn’t been expecting him to appear next to him. “This is my Hyrule,” he looked Twilight in the eye. “If I can’t, then you can try tomorrow.” He turned back to the Keeper. “But I want to try first.”

               The Twili tilted his head and examined Wind for a moment. Wind felt as if he were staring into his very soul. “Is that okay with you, Dark One?” he asked. It took Wind a moment to realize that he was talking to Twilight.

               “I suppose so,” Twilight said, looking at him. His gaze weighed heavily on Wind. “This is his era.”

               “Very well,” Hambar consented, finally breaking eye contact. “Follow me.” The Keeper went to the carved door and placed his hand on a panel near it. It gave off a teal glow and the wall slid open to reveal a smooth, domed room beyond. The walls were a dark blue, specks of light shining like stars, repeated endlessly into a crystalline darkness. The image shimmered and moved as they walked, giving a soft glow to the floor below. A door was set into the wall on the far side, only the smallest hint of a seam indicating its presence. In the middle of the room was a beautiful, smooth white stone that shone at different points as if the stars were repeated inside it as well. The Moonstone, Wind realized. An obsidian statue of a Hylian woman knelt on the ground, her fingers seeming to caress it. Drops of water trickled from her empty stone eyes and fell off of petrified cheeks to be absorbed by the gem below. Wind suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.

               “You sure about this?” Warriors asked. “You don’t have to prove anything to us, you know.”

               “I want to,” Wind replied quietly. “Besides, this is my Hyrule. I want to save these people, too.”

               Warriors took a deep breath and released it before nodding once and removing his hand. “Okay. I trust you.”

               The Twili didn’t protest as the others entered the room, but motioned Wind forward and instructed him to kneel on the ground as the woman was.

               “Place your hand here on the Moonstone,” he instructed. “It will decide whether you are worthy or not. Good luck.”

               Wind placed his hand on the mineral and slammed his eyes shut as light flashed suddenly from its core. He heard exclamations from the others as they, too, had to hide their eyes from the glare. There was a loud noise, like the pounding of a thousand thunderstorms, and then all was quiet.

               He slowly blinked his eyes only to see, disappointed, his hand still on the stone, which had returned to its normal state. He looked around the room. The others were still rubbing their eyes, and the door had yet to open. He felt a large hand on his shoulder and felt himself being lifted up off the floor. Hambar was quiet as he led him and the rest of the group out and back into the main cave.

               “Do not feel disappointed,” he said quietly. “Many have tried and many have failed.” He looked up from Wind. “There is always tomorrow, if any of you others wish to try,” he said as the Twili ambassadors slowly took their leave. “I will still be here.” There were little flashes of light as the Twili disappeared back to their Realm, and the others began to ascend the rope ladder once again. Wind was the only one left.

               “What are you still doing here, Little Light?” the Keeper asked. He didn’t sound nearly as welcoming as before.

               “I would still like to help,” Wind knew he wasn’t worthy, but there had to be something he could do. The Twili man seemed to consider his offer, and then nodded.

               “Very well,” he said. “It is said there is a rare lily that only blooms under the light of the moon. The Moon’s Pail grows on a slender stem, with many tiny flowers. You can smell its fragrance easily on a warm night; it has a honey scent. It is many leagues from here, in the Brineback Swamp to the east. None of us dares to retrieve it, but it is a great medicine to our kind, and can even cure those of us who have been fatally burned by the sun. If you retrieve a couple for us, as well as a bulb or two to plant in the soil above, we may be able to hold up until this curse is lifted.”

               Wind smiled brightly. He still had a chance. “Thank you so much!” he waved as he left, backing toward the entrance. “You won’t regret it!” And then he was following his companions to where they were congregated at the top of the cliff.

               “We’ll head back to where we built our fire earlier. That way we’re still close and Linebeck will know where to find us when he returns,” Time was saying. The others looked his way when he came in view, quickly looking away when his eyes caught theirs. Wind’s heart sunk. They were ashamed of him. Warriors was the only one who kept eye contact. He moved to walk beside Wind as they made their way to camp.

               “Hey, you aren’t feeling bad, are you?” he asked. “You did your best. We know it. They know it, too.”

               Wind remained quiet. He didn’t know what to say. He swallowed the tight feeling in his throat and continued to walk forward.

               “They’ve been trying for hundreds of years, and none of them were able to complete the trials.”

               But at least some got admitted to them. Wind hadn’t even gotten that far.

               “This is my Hyrule,” he said instead, “I’m supposed to be able to help them. What kind of a hero am I if I can’t?”

               “You help in any way you can,” Warriors replied. “You aren’t a hero because you can lift a sword out of a stone. You’re a hero because your heart is in the right place and you want to help others. You put their needs before your own.”

               Wind nodded, feeling the light inside him ignite anew. Warriors was right. He hadn’t been accepted into the trials, but he could still help the Twili. The others needed to stay close to see if they were worthy, but Wind didn’t. He already knew the decision of the stone, and now he had something better: he had something he could do other than sit around and see if a rock would think he was worthy of it. He could still help these people.

               But he didn’t know how long he was going to be gone for, and the others needed to be nearby in case the stone chose them. When they got back to camp, he told Time that he was heading out to go exploring a bit. Time wanted someone to go with him, but Wind refused.

               “Do you see anything out here?” It was a rhetorical question. “I know you’re worried, but I’m a hero, too, and I can take care of myself. If I’m not back by tomorrow morning, go ahead and try the trials without me. There’s something I need to do.”

               “You should still take someone with you. It’s not like you’re planning on being gone more than eight days, are you?” Wind wasn’t planning on it, but it was entirely probable.

               Wind shook his head anyway. “I want everyone here that can be. The stone might speak to one of you, and you may be their hope,” he said. “This is my era. These people are my responsibility, and the sooner they can get out of that cave, the better.” He hefted his pack over his shoulder and made eye contact with as many of them as possible. “Do this for me?”

               Warriors looked troubled, but he said nothing. Time didn’t look like he approved, either, but nodded. “Fine. But I want you back within three days, or we’re going looking for you.”

               That wasn’t as good as Wind had hoped, but it was better than nothing. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll see you in a couple of days.” Twilight’s blue eyes stared unnervingly at him as he turned around. He could feel them weighing heavily on his back. His own hubris had caused him to go before the elder teen, and may have made the Twili wait longer. But he would be back, and he wouldn’t disappoint them. He would amend his mistake, and help the people he’d failed.

               He had to.

                 Wind travelled all day and stopped to rest only when night was falling. Thanks to journeying with the other Links for so long, he’d gotten used to walking long distances, and he was able to get a lot farther than he would have before. He ate some of the jerky stored away in his pack. Something he used to enjoy now just tasted like cardboard, but he didn’t know if it was because he’d been spoilt with Wild’s cooking, or if his earlier failure had taken the taste out. Either way, he couldn’t lose this opportunity. The Twili were counting on him, and he would do something to help them, even if he couldn’t free them completely.

               Wind took a brief nap before continuing on in his easterly path. The moon had crested the horizon, and he thought he heard a wolf howl in the distance, but it could have been the wind. There was nothing but sparse grass and rock for miles. He wished for Wolfie, but it was unlikely that Wild’s companion was nearby. He would have to do this alone.

               Wind tried to hum a jaunty pirate tune to get his mind off of his loneliness, but it ended up sounding more haunting than uplifting. His attempt died out quickly. He’d never really been alone during his travels, and it was odd to be so now. He wished there was someone to talk to. The heath stretched on for miles, becoming its own ocean as gusts caused the grasses to bend in waves. The smell of salt blew in from the ocean, even though it was a half an hour’s walk away. Everything here- it was so desolate. Wind wondered if this land was really better than the Twilight realm, but quickly brushed it off. If Hambar and his people were so desperate to get here, then it must be better. And the land wasn’t entirely untamable. Wind had seen the people of New Hyrule turn infertile tracts into lush gardens of vegetables and fields of grain. There was hope for the Twili yet.

               He spotted a dark stain on the horizon, and squinted as if it would help him to better make out its shape. The moon was above it now, and its brightness was making it difficult to see.

               It took thirty more minutes before he realized they were trees. Was this the swamp? Wind felt excitement race through him and broke into a run.

               In eight minutes he was panting hard and his legs burned, but he was at the dark copse of trees. Anticipation rose in him as he entered. He would find the flowers here, he would bring them back, and he would help the people he’d failed. It was the least he could do.

               Everything was noticeably darker after entering the woods. Wind had difficulty seeing his hand in front of his face, much less if there were any flowers around. He could no longer hear the howling gales, the sound being replaced by the hoots of owls in the branches and the groans and creaks of ancient trees. His heart pounded in his chest and his feet ached, but the Twili’s hope was ahead. He would find it, and he would bring it back to them.

               The air here was stale and stunk of rotting vegetation. Mud appeared beneath his feet and began to suck at his boots. At one point he stepped in a particularly soft patch and ended up almost thigh-deep in it. He’d reached out and found a vine, which he used as leverage to pull himself out. After almost losing a boot, he was more careful to feel out his steps first.

               Suddenly there was a snap of a twig behind him, and Wind turned quickly just in time to see a Lizalfos jump at him with a spear. Barely dodging, he slung his shield onto his arm and quickly retrieved his sword. It hissed and growled at him, coming back for another lunge.  Wind had never seen one in his own world, and yet it distinctly was one of his, and not one of the others’. He didn’t know how he knew, and tried not to think too hard about it.

               It hissed and jumped toward him. Wind blocked its blow and thrust his weapon toward its exposed belly, but it retreated quickly and he missed. Cursing under his breath, he readjusted his footing and readied himself for another attack. It came bounding toward him once more, and he struck just as it lifted its sword arm. It screamed in pain and he quickly pulled his blade out of its belly. There was a strangled roar behind him, and Wind turned in time to see another monster lunge for him.

               Sweat began to dampen his hair as Wind fought, feinting and spinning to get a good angle on his attacker. As soon as he dispatched the one he was fighting, another materialized from the woods.

               Luckily he was accustomed to their movements by now, and was able to finish the great lizard off much more quickly than he had the other two. Still, he stood there trying to catch his breath after the last one was downed. Wind was exhausted; the fight had taken a lot more out of him than he’d thought. He would need to rest soon, but not yet.

               The breeze in the leaves above him rustled, and Wind turned his gaze to a glow he could now make out further in. Wearily, he trod forward through the soggy ground to see what it was revealing.

               There, bathed in the soft light of the heavens, was the Moon’s Pail. The dainty flowers were facing up towards the great light, where it appeared that they were gathering the beams like a pail would collect water. Delicate petals were black on the outside and white on the inside, and they trembled as Wind ran a wondering hand over them. He picked one, and then another, and then another; until he had a handful of the sweet-smelling blooms. He left plenty in the clearing to repopulate, and dug up a few bulbs as well. Satisfied with his findings, he quickly put them back in his bag and began to head back west.

               Getting out of the forest was much easier than going in had been, and once he was out on the heath Wind finally began to relax. There was nothing for miles around, and he decided to take another nap.

               The nap ended up being more than a nap, as Wind awoke to light glaring in his face and a cool gust to his hair. Immediately he jumped up. He had to get to the others, and quickly!

               Wind ran most of the way there, and began to shout as he neared the location of their camp. “Guys, I’m back! And I’ve got something for the Twili, too!” Wind gasped at the sight that greeted him when he crested the hill.

               “No.” No. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t.

               “Guys?” Wind hated the way his voice sounded. It was tiny and hurt, and nothing like the way he wanted to sound.

               But his friends, his family…Wind ran down to the beach where they’d peacefully had lunch the day before. “Guys?” It was a slaughter. Red stained the sand below and bodies were twisted in painful positions. “Please,” he whispered. No one moved. His eyes roved desperately, trying to find a survivor. Time, Legend, Hyrule. Sky…. He hesitantly moved forward, his eyes filling with tears that blurred everything. Twilight, Four, Wild… No, someone had to live! Someone had to have escaped! Eight figures lay unmoving on the ground. What happened? Who could have done this, why didn’t they –

               “Warriors?” His friend, his older brother was… Wind choked back a sob as he knelt in the sand beside the body. “Warriors?” He began to shake him by the shoulders, even though he knew it wouldn’t do anything. His bright blue eyes stared up into nothing. “C’mon, wake up. Please.” His voice cracked at the end, but he didn’t care. Hot tears spilled down his face, the ocean breeze doing little to calm him. His friends were gone.

               “Link! Link!” Wind picked his head up at the call, and noticed Linebeck running on the beach toward him. The man stumbled slightly and his eyes widened at the sight in front of him. “What in Din’s name…?”

               “They’re gone,” Wind choked. “I f-failed them, Linebeck. I shouldn’t have - have le-left.”

               The sailor appeared horrified before he whispered, “I’m so sorry, Link.” Wind closed his eyes and shook his head, ducking it low to curl over his older brother figure. “But there’s trouble on Outset.” Wind felt his heart sink even lower than it had been before.

               “What do yo-you mean?”

               “A group of raiders has invaded, and the whole island is under siege. Tetra and the pirates are doing what they can, but Outset isn’t prepared to fight a veritable army.”

               “I’ll go.” The Twili could get their flowers at any time.

               “What about them?” Linebeck asked quietly, gesturing to-.

               Wind closed his eyes and turned his head. “I might be able to save Grandma and Aryll,” he said. “I’m too late for –.” The last part came out as barely even a whisper. He was too much of a coward to even finish the sentence. He stood swiftly, brushing the tears from his eyes. There would be time to mourn later. For now, he tried to think of the family he was going to save, and not the one he was too late for. Not the one that he was leaving to bake in the sun.

               Wind gently closed Warriors’s eyes, and turned to go with Linebeck.

               It was evening by the time they got to Outset. Wind saw the smoke before he saw the land, great billows of it rising into the air and blackening out the sky above. If there were any flames there before, they were already gone. The skeletons of houses stood eerily above a beach littered with bodies. Linebeck cursed as Wind dove overboard, forgetting his pack aboard the ship. He wasn’t an amazing swimmer, but he was semi-decent. The need to see his family overrode any concern about his own wellbeing.

               Wind had no idea how he got to the shore before Linebeck, but he did. Soaked and shivering, he searched for any sign of his sister or grandmother. “Grandma! Aryll?” he cried, panting as he looked for any signs of life among the wreckage. Cannonballs left troughs from where they plowed into the sand. Limbs and weapons and gore littered the ground, but Wind ignored all of it. “Aryll? Little sister?” he called desperately. “Grandma!” Then he saw it: a little sandal under some collapsed roofing where there house had once been. Wind grunted as he pushed the boards up and heaved them to the side. “Aryll?” Her face was turned upwards toward the sky with a peaceful expression. Blood puddled underneath her head, and in the moonlight her skin appeared as veined marble. When Wind’s tentative fingers brushed her cheek, it was as soft as the Moon’s Pail’s petals and as cold as ice. He used the back of his hand to gently wipe away the trickle of blood that had crept from the corner of her mouth. No breath left her lips. His grandmother lay nearby, her neck twisted as if she was looking out to the open sea.

               “At least they died together,” a voice came from behind him. Wind spun to see her, covered in sweat and blood that wasn’t her own, her face wet with tears. “But you were gone. You weren’t here.”

               “Tetra?” He hated the tremor that came out with the word.

               “You failed them, Link.” Her voice was hard as the tempered edge of a cutlass. “Where were you?”

               “I was…” he trailed off.

               “You were nowhere to be found,” she snapped, her lower lip trembling and her voice breaking like fine china dashed against the surf. “I sent messages by bird, by ship, by train, but you were nowhere.”

               “I…I didn’t know,” he said pathetically.

               “Do you know?” Tetra rubbed hard at her eyes, hiding them behind her forearm. “Do you know that they were hoping for you? They were looking for you to come out of the ocean and rescue them, even when the raiders began to fire at the houses with their cannons.”

               “No,” Wind said, shaking his head, but not in answer to her question. He closed his eyes. This couldn’t be real. This can’t have happened. Tears were soaking his cheeks and dripping from his chin, turning the ashes to mud below him.

               “Even when the raiders came into the houses, murdering and looting, they said, ‘Link will come. He won’t forget us. He’s our big brother, our grandson. He won’t leave us to die!’”

               “Please, stop,” he whispered. He didn’t want to hear anymore.

               “And where did their hope in you get them?” He looked up as she stayed quiet. She shuddered and turned to look Wind in the eye.

               “Please-se, Tetra,” he sobbed.

               “They begged, too.” It came out dead. “And they locked them in the house and set it on fire. If it weren’t for a misfire on the part of one of the raiders’ ships, they would have burned alive.”

               “Don’t,” he choked, “don’t. Please.”

               “I can’t even bear to look at you,” she said, turning her face from him. The sound of footsteps in the sand broke up the sound of waves lapping at the beach below them. “Linebeck,” she said, her voice leaving her mouth as cold and hard as coffin nails. “Take him with you.”

               “Tetra, please.” He didn’t have much left. At least let him bury his dead, see to it that they were cared for and loved.

               “Your Majesty?”

               The pirate captain shuddered. “I never want to see him again. Take him back to that island, to whatever was more important than his own people, and leave him there.”

               “Zelda, please.” The words came out tiny and broken, just like him. She turned slightly toward him, and Wind thought for a moment she might change her mind.

               “Goodbye, Link.” And then she was walking down the beach toward the hull of her broken ship.

               “C’mon, kid,” Linebeck said gently, guiding him by the elbow. Wind felt numb as he was led back toward the ocean and onto the deck of the steamship. Linebeck left him to himself, busying himself across the ship and guiding it out into open waters.

               It was noon by the time they reached the dead island. Linebeck was quiet as he anchored the ship, and some distant part of Wind was glad he’d landed further down the beach instead of where his friends had been slaughtered. He moved robotically, grabbing his things and walking off the gangplank and onto the sand. Salt had crusted in his hair; muddy ashes had caked on his shins. His lashes were frosted with minerals from the swim and his own tears. His eyes were itchy and swollen as Linebeck came beside him and enveloped him in a warm hug. Wind didn’t have the energy to lift his arms to return it.

               “It’ll be okay, kid,” Linebeck pressed his lips to the top of Wind’s head. “It’ll be okay.”

               Wind was unable to process much as Linebeck released his shoulders and, giving a final pat, turned to his ship. The almost fourteen year old watched as the vessel got smaller and smaller until it disappeared over the horizon.

               The pack hadn’t been on his back when he’d dived into the water. Wind took it out, not sure what he was going to do; maybe look for the telescope Aryll had given him (he needed something to-), when he noticed the Moon’s Pail inside, somehow still as fresh as they had been when he picked them. Tears prickled at his eyes and he sniffed. Was this what he got for helping others? For being a hero? If it was, he didn’t want any part of it.

               “You might not be able to help them, but you can still help someone,” a calm voice spoke in front of him. Wind looked up, just to see Four’s figure fading from view, his face looking over his shoulder at the cliffs behind him.

               “Wait, Four!” but the smaller hero was gone. Wind wiped his face for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Four, or his memory of Four, or that illusion, or whatever-it-was was right. The Twili were still relying on him. The people he loved were gone or had left him, but the Twili could still have happiness. They could still have hope. Something good had to come out of this.

               Steadying his breath, Wind picked himself up off the ground. A breeze blew through his stiff hair and rustled his crusty clothing. He could do this. He could help the Twili, even if it was with this. He could still have hope for them. And then…

               Stumbling up the hill, Wind somehow made it to the top of the cliff. The rope ladder was exactly as he’d remembered it, and he descended it carefully, making sure not to lose the precious cargo on his back.

               Entering the cave, he once more blinked his eyes to try to get them to adjust. “You look terrible.” Wind was just able to recognize the voice as that of the Keeper’s.

               He didn’t have any words for him in response.

               Instead, Wind took out the flowers in his pack as well as the bulbs that could potentially save so many lives.

               “The Moon’s Pail!” the Twili exclaimed. “Where did you find it? Never mind, never mind. I’ll put them in a cool dry place and we can plant them tomorrow.” The Guardian of the cave held out a long, pale hand. Wind normally would have felt some sort of accomplishment, but now he only felt exhaustion. He wanted to curl up in a corner of the cave and sleep until everything made sense, or everyone was back as they should be. But he couldn’t.

               Instead, he reached forward and handed the plants to Hambar. He knew, somehow, that what he’d done was incredibly important to these people. It could bring them light.

               As soon as the flowers touched the Keeper’s hands there was a loud crack, and the carved stone door slid open to reveal the room beyond. And beyond that…

               “The door is opened!” Hambar exclaimed. “Well, that’s certainly never happened before. No one has bypassed the Moonstone.”

               Wind should have felt excitement, but he didn’t feel anything except relief. There was still hope yet. He could save the Twili still. He looked at the Keeper expectantly, wondering if he was going to protest him beginning the trials. Hambar’s eyes bored into his own.

               “It’s up to you, Little Light,” he said. “Retrieve our Daystar.” Wind just nodded, and Hambar offered to him the natural spring in the back of the cave to refill his water bottle at. Wind did so, washing his face and hands in the refreshing flow, as well as refilling his flask after drinking water from it several times over. Feeling a little bit more human and a lot more refreshed, he approached the entrance to the Trials.

               He entered the dark room, and the door slammed shut behind him. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure if he could do this. “You can do this, little brother,” Warriors was suddenly in front of him, as bright and fresh as he had been when he was alive. “I believe in you.” He reached a hand forward as if to ruffle his hair, but faded away before he made contact. Wind’s eyes filled, but he nodded. He would complete the Trials. He may not have hope for himself, but he still had some for the Twili.

               He walked forward hesitantly, gripping his blade tightly as he saw a strange blue glow down the dark hallway. The light took shape as he came into a large chamber, and before him was the huffing steaming creature he had fought most recently.  “Malladus,” he whispered, horror warring with anger. How was this demon alive again? He didn’t care. He would kill it and make sure it left this earth for good.

               Wind charged forward with a yell, keeping his shield in front of him and his sword ready to swing. Malladus sped forward as well, intent on skewering the boy on his horns.

               The young teen leapt at the last second, vaulting up and over the beast’s head and driving his sword into the weak spot on the creature’s back; or, at least, he tried to. Instead of going through like he wanted, the sword bounced harmlessly off of scaled skin. Wind gasped. The last time he’d fought it, he’d had Tetra’s help. Now he was on his own. The demon reached a large, clawed hand over him and tore him from its back, throwing him into the cave wall. Wind shook his head, trying to keep the room from spinning and quickly jumped out of the way before it got to him, causing it to ram into the wall. While it was down, Wind lifted his sword and again aimed for the jewel between its horns. He prepared to strike down with all his might, but the beast recovered more quickly than he was expecting and swung one of its horns at Wind’s side. Wind was just a bit too slow, and didn’t get his shield up fast enough. He screamed in agony and shoved the Phantom Sword into Malladus’s eye. It was a small target, and it was a dirty move, but it did the trick. The demon jerked back with a roar, Wind’s screams joining him as blood began to flow more freely. He was barely standing, holding the hole in his side with his shield arm while raising his bloody sword in a tremulous grasp. He stood at the ready, waiting for the beast to notice him and charge again, but it didn’t. It pawed at its face, and Wind realized it must still think the sword was in its eye. He himself was feeling weak and exhausted from the fight and lack of sleep, but he would finish this. He would finish this and retrieve the Daystar for the Twili.

               The beast began to ram its face blindly into the walls, and Wind approached it slowly, trying to keep his insides in. He shivered as he watched it bash its skull into the sides over and over again. It stumbled and fell to the ground, its head lying low as it tried to catch its breath. Wind felt a flash of pity as he lifted his weapon and shoved it as hard as he could through its ruby-encrusted forehead. The demon shuddered once and then stilled, stiffening and crumbling into dust. Wind sighed and collapsed to his knees.

               A door banged in the distance and Wind flinched. Peeling open his eyes, he saw a tall, dark, robed figure walk through. He struggled to rise, but didn’t make it halfway before he was knocked to the floor again.

               “I would stay down, if I were you.” Wind froze. He recognized that voice. The fine tremble in his arms intensified tenfold. “I have plenty of malice for the one that entombed me in stone at the bottom of the sea.” No. No. How? How could this monster still be alive? He’d killed him. He’d shoved a sword through his skull and covered him with water and left his corpse leagues below the surface. How was he here?

               “Bow like the insect you are,” the false king growled, “and I will spare your life.”

               “No,” he said, choking around a glob of blood. He managed to make it unsteadily to his feet, and spit at Ganondorf’s boots. “I will never bow to you.”

               “Very well,” Ganondorf said, “then perish.”

               Wind had every intention of fighting that monster then and there, but his body had other ideas. The Gerudo swung a meaty fist at his face, and all went black.

                 When Wind next blinked open his eyes, he was in a prison cell. He didn’t move. He didn’t even twitch. Rather, he just allowed himself to breathe, to hear the rush of air in and out of his lungs. He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep and wake up again with everyone alive and well. Wind’s eyes pricked with tears. So much had been taken from him, so quickly; he hadn’t had time to process it. It wasn’t fair.

               “So what, you just gonna lie there and give up?” a voice snarked. Wind lifted his eyes to see a transparent Legend looking at him from where he was leaning on the wall. “Doesn’t sound like a hero to me.”

               “I don’t know if I want to be a hero.” His voice was scratchy, like it had been overused.

               Legend rolled his eyes. “No one wants to be a hero kid. At least, no one that’s been doing it for a long time does. Heroism is selflessness. It’s putting others first. It’s hard, and you can bet your bucket that it’s gonna drag you down and feed on you ‘till there’s nothing left. But you know what?” Wind shook his head. This was the longest that any of the “ghosts” had spoken to him. “It’s worth it. It’s worth every bit of pain that comes to you, to save someone, to protect a life and give them a future. Don’t give up, Wind.” And then he was gone.

               He was right, Wind realized belatedly. People’s lives alone were worth the fight. Lying here, feeling sorry for himself, wasn’t going to help anyone. He tried to push himself up to his knees, but he couldn’t; he still had a gaping wound in his side, and if he didn’t get help soon, he would die.

               “Hey, Wind,” a voice quietly came from right next to him. “Hold still, I might be able to help.”

               “H-Hyrule?”

               “Yeah,” he said quietly, slender fingers moving to the gouge in Wind’s side. “You’re one tough kid, you know that?”

               “I- what are you doing?” Sparks danced from Hyrule’s fingers, and he moved them gently over the wound. It slowly closed up, until an angry scab was all that was left.

               “I’m sorry I can’t do more,” Hyrule said, smiling at him. “But this should hold ‘till you finish the rest of the trial.”

               Wind felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. Again. He was so weak.

               “Hey, hey, hey; you’re strong, Wind. Just remember, where there’s life, there’s hope.” He shot Wind a smile.

               The younger teen huffed out a laugh. “That’s so lame.” Hyrule just smiled and stood up. Wind got to his legs shakily.

               “Door’s unlocked,” Hyrule informed him. “Good luck.” And then he was gone.

               Wind cautiously opened the door to his cell, cringing as it creaked loudly. But no one came to investigate the noise, so he went ahead and stepped out.

               The corridor was eerily quiet, his shuffling echoing off the stone walls. He followed it until he came to a large, open room. He quickly swallowed his fear and drew his sword. The dark king was there, his back turned to the door, his face set toward a shining bright stone sitting upon a pedestal. Wind felt anger rise up inside him at the sight. No. Ganondorf had ruined enough lives. Wind was going to stop him where he was.

               As silently as possible, Wind came up behind the monster and stabbed at his unsuspecting back. Cape parted and steel met steel in a clash as the Gerudo matched Wind’s sword thrust with a block of his own. “Thought you could sneak up on me, little ship rat?” he growled. “I will show you what true revenge looks like.” And with that he shoved the young teen backward with his sword.

               Wind blocked and parried as he was forced back to the wall. He gritted his teeth. He had to fight; he had to win. If he didn’t… well, he wouldn’t think about that. He would make sure he won. The Twili were counting on him.

               Suddenly Ganondorf moved. Wind went to block the strike, but it was a trick. Instead he was on the receiving end of a great fist to the stomach. His air whooshed out of his lungs, and he was thrown back several yards. Hyrule’s healing had covered his wound, but it hadn’t replenished the lost blood. The exhaustion was catching up with him and making him sloppy. That sloppiness had cost him.

               Wind moved to get up, but the monster placed a heavily-booted foot on his chest, forcing him down. He gasped for air, but the dark king just pressed harder.

               “Pathetic,” he growled. “I expected more of a threat, but you are just a puppy. You’ve lost your touch.” Desperate, Wind swung his sword and pierced Ganondorf’s leg through. He roared, jerking his limb back and freeing it from the blade.

               Wind sat up and took a deep breath, forcing himself to stand on two feet. “I’ve already beaten you once. I can do it again.” The man snarled in rage and rushed forward. Wind had no time to dodge before his large hand was wrapped around his throat, squeezing the life out of him. Suddenly Ganondorf swung downward, bashing his head against the hard stone floor, and Wind’s sword clanged as it bounced away. Then he was slammed hard again. Again. Again.

               Wind was dazed. Where was he? What was he doing? Where was his sword? Why was his side warm and sticky? He gasped as a knee pressed into his sternum and the sound of metal being dragged menacingly across the stone floor got louder and louder until the source came to rest by his ear. A giant face moved down to whisper in the other one.

               “There is something you should know, before I kill you,” Ganondorf whispered. “Darkness always wins. It wins in the hearts of everyone. No one dies with hope.” Wind grasped with his hand, and felt something hard and smooth under his palm. His sword! Ganondorf kept his head low as he positioned his blade for a final blow. “Goodbye, little hero.” Steel cleaved flesh, and with a strangled gurgle, a heart stopped. All was heavy and silent...

…

…

               Wind’s eyes opened. Something hot and viscous was flowing down the back of his hands. With a sigh, the giant body fell toward him, and Wind barely had the strength to push the knee off and shove the corpse away as he rolled from it.

               And he promptly threw up.

               There wasn’t much in his stomach but water and blood. The past … day? Day and a half?... had been so harrowing that he couldn’t stop the tears from pouring out. It felt like a lifetime. He was so tired, so weak; blood loss and exhaustion had overtaken him. He supported himself on shaking limbs, the Phantom Sword still lodged in the Gerudo king’s jaw. He left it there.

               Suddenly his arms gave out beneath him, and he landed in the puddle of bile and blood that had left his body. The sound of footsteps drew near, and he tried to track the sound with his eyes.

               “C’mon, Wind. Get up;” it was Sky, his soft voice echoing through the chamber. He knelt down and peered into Wind’s face. “Wake up. Complete your journey.”

               “You’re almost done, kid.” That was Twilight. What was he doing here? “You’re so close to finishing.” Wait? Where had Sky gone? No, he was dead. So was Twilight.

               “I can’t,” he cried. “Not- not as good as you…” It was hard to catch his breath, and he felt himself slipping. “’M not as s-strong as you or Time, not as sm-mart as Four or Hyrule…hhuuhh… I don’t have Leg-en’s ‘sperience… or Sky’s, Warriors’s, and Wild’s…skills…. ’M a failure…. Failed you. You’re dead because of me. Can’t do it.” Everything hurt so badly.

               “Sure you can,” Wild’s voice sounded as deerskin shoes came into view. Wind turned his head, just to try to catch a glimpse of his face. “You have to. You have to remember. We can’t do this, only you can. You have to fight for us. Live for us.”

               Wind struggled to get to his knees again. The pedestal was still there, holding the Daystar which pulsed with life. It was the last beacon in the dark- the last hope of the Twili.

               But he didn’t know if he could get to it.

               He managed to prop himself up on his hands and knees, his shirt hanging heavily with bile and blood. He had failed the others. It only made sense that he would fail the Twili just as easily. He wasn’t even crying, now. He was out of tears.

               “Wind,” a voice gently spoke. It was Time. He waited to continue until Wind met his eye. “You, Wind, are our hope, even in the worst of times. You are our light. Shine for us.” Wind tried to draw in a deep breath, but it came out sounding more like a hiccough. He tried again, and somehow, miraculously, got to his feet. He was shaking so badly he wondered how he hadn’t toppled over. But it was nothing in relation to the light ahead of him. His skull was throbbing behind his eyes, its cacophony drowning out all but the music of the gem. The pain in his side was just a scratch in the face of the Hope ahead. Sounds of his own blood “plip”-ing against the stone floor went ignored; he was concerned with something greater than himself. He stepped forward. Once, twice, thrice, until he came to the altar of the Daystar.

               He prayed that this would bring hope to the Twili. He prayed that, when it was over, he might be with his friends and family again.

               It wasn’t the most graceful of movements. In fact, it was a sloppy thing, a jerky motion that even a toddler would be ashamed of. His left arm flailed out, and his fingers brushed its corona.

               The world exploded into light, a high pitched ringing sounding through his ears and consuming his very being.

               Then, it was just light.

…

               Then, there were fingers running through his hair, and a familiar voice in his ear.

…

               Then, the light faded, and he realized his eyes were closed, a warm breeze blowing in his face.

               Then, he opened his eyes to Warriors’s concerned face and a canopy of eternal stars. A quiet glow was coming from nearby, adding softness to his features.

               “Hey, little bro. Nice to see your baby blues again.” His smile was white and brilliant, perfect as always.

               “Warriors?” The elder’s hand came into view as he withdrew it, and Wind realized it had been his fingers that had been playing with his hair. “Y’re dead.”

               Warriors’s expression twisted into confusion. “No I’m not.”

               “Yes, y’are. Saw it. Were… all bloody. I clos’d y’r eyes.”

               “What?”

               “How’ryu – alive?”

               Warriors looked at him, flabbergasted. Wind was too tired for this. He slowly shut his eyes. And then opened them again.

               “’M I dead?” he whispered. “Sorry,” he apologized as Warriors seemed to grow more agitated. “Just wished to be with you guys. But where’s Aryll? Grandma?”

               “I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about,” Warriors replied.

               Something was off here. Wind wasn’t sure what it was, but it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps Warriors wasn’t a ghost. And maybe this wasn’t the afterlife, either.

               Wind squinted, and tried to sit up. Warriors gently pressed down on his chest. “Whoa, easy there. You just finished the Trials; you shouldn’t try to get up too fast.”

               Wind glanced over. Under his left hand was the Moonstone, smooth and unblemished and bright. And holding it was the statue of the Hylian lady, but she was no longer crying.

               “What? I don’t understand.”

               “You finished the Trials of Sorrow.” Wind turned his head towards the other voice, which happened to belong to Four, who was walking over with Wind’s blanket. He had a pleased smile on his face. He draped it over the younger’s body, and Wind removed his hand from the oblong orb. “Congratulations!”

               “I –” Wind’s voice was shaking, “I don’t understand. You guys were killed. I wasn’t there to be with you.”

               “Wind,” Four said slowly, his brow furrowing, “we’ve been here this whole time. You never left the cave.”

               “What?” he asked. “But what about my failure to activate the Trial? And the Moon’s Pail? Remember, I told you guys I would be gone for a couple of days?”

               The other two shook their heads.

               “You – you’re not dead,” he murmured, realization slowly sinking in. Then a giant grin spread across his face. “You’re not dead!” He repeated, and flung his arms around Warriors’s shoulders. Warriors’s breath came out in a whoof, but he quickly reciprocated the hug. Four placed a hand on his shoulder.

               “No, we’re not dead,” he said, humor lacing his words. “And you were amazing! You pushed through to the end, even when it got tough! Once you completed the Trials, that door over there opened and the Daystar ignited. It flew to where the Twili were waiting and immediately transformed the ones here to be able to live in the Light world! Now they can live on this land without fear of dying from exposure to the sun!”

               “Alright, Four, I think Wind’s been overwhelmed enough,” Time said, amused. “Let’s get back to the others.”

               “Can you walk?” Warriors asked, helping Wind to his feet. Time went ahead with Four to tell their companions.

               “I-I think so,” he said. “How long was I out?”

               “Oh, it took you pretty much an entire day to complete the trials, if not longer. I dunno, it’s kind of hard to tell, time passes strangely in here,” Warriors looked around the room as if it made him feel a little lost. “But, after about…mmm…two thirds of the way through, we were allowed to help you.”

               “Help me?”

               “Yeah. We could see a little bit of what was happening in that moment, and sort of ‘coach’ you, but our time was limited and we usually couldn’t do much. You were allowed more and more help as time passed, but we could only help you once.”

               “I…didn’t know that. Now it all makes sense,” Wind muttered.

               “After you finished the trials, you slept for another six hours. And, well, here you are!”

               “I finished the trials?” Wind asked.

               “Yeah, kid.”

               “And the Twili, they…they got their promised land?”

               “Uh huh.”

               “Oh,” a small grin began to break out on Wind’s face. “I guess things really worked out pretty well then, huh?”

               “I guess so.”

               When they left the cave, Twilight was chatting with some of the Twili, whose appearances had changed slightly, but not drastically. He was asking if they knew a “Midi,” or something, and the ambassadors were starting to look at him suspiciously.

               Hambar noticed him, and approached with a wide grin and welcoming arms. “Our hero!” he exclaimed. “Link, of the Wind, you have brought light back into our hearts.” He clasped hands with Wind, and shook them vigorously. “Now we can claim the land the goddesses gave us, and build a better future!”

               “I – it was my honor,” Wind said warmly.

               There was a large celebration that day, with Wind named their Hero and the excitement over the new land. The Daystar had risen to rest high above the party, and they all got to rest as the festivities ensued. Linebeck came sometime during the day, and it seemed he got into some sort of argument with the Twili, because they were soon watching wrestling matches and other good-natured competitions between the Hylians and the Twili. It was only after day had become night and then day again that they said their good-byes to the Twilit race and found themselves back on Linebeck’s ship.

               “Where are we headed now?” Linebeck was covered with necklaces of smoky quartz and obsidian, gifts the Twili had bestowed on him from their realm. In return, he’d given them a variety of rupees. They seemed fascinated with the colored jewels.

               “Let’s go home. I’m missing Aryll and Grandma,” Wind replied.

               “Very well then,” Linebeck answered. “To Outset!”

               They arrived at nightfall, and the entire group was welcomed kindly and lovingly. Wild got Grandma’s soup recipe, and Four showed Aryll where the Picori liked to hide. Everyone enjoyed themselves, but were exhausted.

               Tetra had heard Wind was back, for now, and had come to visit as well. He inquired about setting up a defense for the island, in case they were ever invaded. She’d given him a funny look, but when he’d asked again, voice quivering, she’d relented and promised him she’d get something together.

               They stayed busy enough that Wind’s sleep was dreamless.

               Eventually the time came for them to leave. Wind was incredibly anxious the whole time. He’d hugged his grandmother and sister and had made them promise to stay safe.

               “You do the same, Link,” Grandma had said. “Take care of yourself.”

               He tried to stall as long as possible, but eventually goodbyes were said and the group moved on to their next adventure.

               Then came the nightmares. Wind often found himself jolting awake in a cold sweat, the names of his family on his lips. Many nights he never slept at all, leaving him dead on his feet and sloppy in the field. Warriors and Wolfie had begun to lay down next to him in an attempt to get him to drift off. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

               One of those nights he was tired of tossing and turning and got up to sit by the fire. Legend was on watch at the time and noticed. The older teen sat down next to him and examined him for a very long time. Then he looked away. “Do you remember,” his fingers darted to his head and then back to his lap as if he didn’t know where they belonged, “what I told you? When you were sitting in the Trial’s cell, waiting for Ganondorf to return?”

               Wind turned to look at him curiously.

               Legend turned his eyes toward him. Wind, for the first time noticed the bags. He wondered what had happened to Legend that he still was unable to rest. “When you decide to become a hero; and I don’t mean that ‘chosen by Hylia’ or ��the goddesses’ crud, because that isn’t what a hero is; when you decide to become a hero, you decide to give up your own happiness for the wellbeing of others. Terrible things happen to you, like they happen to everybody, but you paint a bigger target on your back than anyone else, because you’re blocking most of their blows. Ugh, I’m not good at this.” Legend took a deep breath and looked somewhere above Wind’s eye-line. “I guess what I’m saying is, is that misfortune is what we get for being heroes. But you gotta believe it’s worth something, that it has…meaning, if it means saving people, y’know?”

               “Yeah, I guess,” Wind said.  He didn’t know if this was supposed to make him feel better or not.

               “I’m sorry, kid. I’m not good at this comforting stuff. It doesn’t get better, but it does get easier. And as you grow older, the scar won’t fade or get any smaller, but you’ll grow bigger and bigger until you’re bigger than it.” Legend raised his arms as if to demonstrate, and Wind giggled. Legend rolled his eyes. “Never mind. Get some rest, kid. We’ll be lookin’ out for ya.” He got up and began to walk back to his watch post.

               “Wait, Legend?” Wind called. Legend stopped. “Thanks. And you know, you can enjoy things, too. Just ‘cause you put others first, doesn’t mean you can’t be happy.”

               Legend’s face softened. “Alright kid. I’ll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Wind.”

               “Goodnight.”

               The next morning Wind woke up to Warriors sprawled out beside him, drooling into his pillow. Despite his anxiety the night before, a smile grew on his face. His family was alive, his friends were alive, and an entire people had been saved. He could rest easy knowing that.

               … And so he shut his eyes again, and did.

[theonyxpath]

Chapter 1

Night hung heavy over Nexus, weighing the city down like a sodden cloak; the thick, velvety folds clung to every crevice, eased into every gap, and filled the city with rich darkness. It had a presence, a power, all its own, and for most that was both a comfort and a concern. One such figure defied the night’s power with every step. Every movement, every gesture pushed back against the night’s weight, slicing through the darkness as a part of it, spurning its shroud only so that she might wrap those shadows more firmly about herself.

As she moved, the long tails of her vivid red jacket streamed behind her, her long red tresses flowing out to match. She was like a flame in the night herself, dancing across the rooftops. Flitting from shadow to shadow and corner to corner, her lithe form coiled and uncoiled in a ballet of motion that carried her across the city. Novia Claro did not hide from the night, nor did she fear it.

She embraced it.

Novia loved the night, loved feeling the dark, cool air rushing past her, lifting her as she leapt but having to surrender her again each time as her feet once more touched down on tile, slat, or beam. She could roam the city like this for hours. From up here, Nexus was clean and beautiful, all its grime hidden, all of its rough edges smoothed, its tired grandeur given a new gloss beneath moonlight and starscape. The moon illuminated the Nexus District’s ancient towers and the spindly sky bridges connecting them. It shed its soft glow on the mansions of Bastion atop their hills, and the sprawling farmlands down below the city. From this height, the Night Market’s many lanterns were a bright beacon in an otherwise darkened district. The rivers that surrounded the city glistened, beautiful ribbons of black and silver entwined as far as the eye could see. Nexus hung between them like a jewel, a dark pearl with a gloss all its own.

Right now, she was most focused on one sliver of that pearl, the edge where it touched up against the Yellow River to the north. She alighted atop an old warehouse perched alongside the docks, its warped wooden walls leaning out over the dark water like an old drunk teetering as he attempted to stand. The shingles beneath her threatened to creak, but she urged them to quiet and they obeyed. They held her weight, and for that she thanked them before turning her attention to the scene below.

Two men stood upon the dock. Their attention was on the battered old barge that was even now rocking up against that portion of the worn wooden walkway, a heavy rope securing it to the rusted but sturdy stanchion embedded in the dock just past the tip of its nose.

A strange hour to pull into port, Novia thought. Most sailing vessels would have waited until dawn before trying to settle into a slip here. Nexus was known for its treacherous channels which served as both a strong defense and an occasional deterrent. During the daytime, with an able pilot at the helm, such a task was easy enough. At night that same feat became extremely risky, yet clearly this barge had done so.

Just as clearly, the duo she observed was tasked with greeting these eager visitors.

The dockworkers were an odd pairing. At first glance, they did not appear dissimilar. Neither was overly tall or short, overly heavy or slight, overly dark or pale. They wore serviceable breeches and shirts beneath official robes that were tattered and worn, short enough to not interfere with walking but long enough to conceal and contain various tools and implements. They also wore plain dark caps, their surfaces marred only by the crest at the front, the emblem of the city itself, and both had on sturdy sandals, the same as many other locals wore, strong and able to provide good traction even on water-slicked boards such as the ones beneath their feet.

Yet the two men could not have been more different. To Novia’s careful, well-trained eye, the man on the right was still and calm, his steps unhurried, his hands steady. The second man, on the other hand, was anything but calm. He was constantly shifting, shuffling his feet, tugging a coin from his belt pouch and flipping it from hand to hand.

“Check the logs, did you check the logs?” the second man, whose name was Jiro Hatan, asked the first, who was called Miroku Bakar.

“Yes, of course I checked the logs,” Miroku replied, just the barest edge in the words. But Novia saw the way he quickly turned away from his partner and scanned his clipboard to check said logs, and had to repress a snort of her own. So, although the calmer of the two and outwardly the more competent, Miroku was just as useless. Interesting.

A woman emerged from the boat’s main cabin and sauntered across the worn deck before hopping over the rail and onto the dock with a casual grace. Novia sized up the newcomer with a practiced eye. Short, perhaps on par with Novia herself, but more solidly built, legs slightly bowed from years adjusting to the roll and pitch of a deck, hands heavily callused, tired smile, but eyes alert. Someone who could handle herself, clearly.

“Ho!” the woman called out as she approached the pair. “Apologies for the late arrival—we got waylaid by some heavy crosswinds just after dawn, had to fight our way through. It set us behind schedule.” Reaching the men, she proffered a rolled-up parchment. “Here are our docking papers, all arranged through your dockmaster last month.”

Novia’s sharp gaze did not miss the flash of gold briefly visible beneath that paper as it changed hands, nor the way Miroku — the senior partner — tilted it so the coin slid into his waiting hand, which then dipped quickly into the pouch at his waist. There was no one else around to witness the transaction, which was just another part of doing business here.

Bribes were par for the course in Nexus. They bought access to important people or moved your forms to the top of the pile. Fail to bribe the right people, and you might spend months waiting for a meeting with an administrator. Your paperwork might be shuffled among the wrong departments for weeks, or lost entirely, or your requests simply denied. Miroku was only doing what thousands of dock inspectors before him had done.

But Novia still filed that information away. It could prove useful later.

Miroku glanced over the documents, then passed them to Jiro, who studied them more closely, the parchment trembling in his hands. Also interesting, but not particularly unusual— Miroku had the seniority, so he took the bribes and did the official sign-off, but passed as much of the work as possible on to his nominal subordinate.

Novia suspected this was why Jiro had hired her: He did all the work, but saw very little of the profits. Although that was typical in positions like his, Jiro wasn’t willing to wait for the day he got to be the one pocketing the bribes. Turnover at the docks was slow, and Jiro was impatient. Thus, he’d reached out to Novia — carefully, and with surprising subtlety — to help speed up the process.

“Everything looks in order,” Jiro said finally. The barge captain hadn’t moved during the perusal of her papers, but Novia saw her stance shift ever so slightly now. She was relieved, and understandably so. Even for an honest boat captain with legitimate papers, there was always the risk of a shakedown or a screw-up. Either would cost money that had not been budgeted for the trip, and so ate into what were probably already meager profits at best.

Jiro’s partner nodded and made a mark on his clipboard. He accepted the papers back from Jiro, signed them, and affixed the chop hanging from the clipboard’s top. The captain accepted the papers with a more open smile, saluted, and made her way back to her boat. Most likely she would sleep on deck — the night was pleasant enough, and it was both safer to stay close to whatever wares she’d ferried in and far less expensive than seeking even the basic accommodations the city had to offer.

With the boat captain gone, Novia once again focused on the two men. They chatted about inconsequential matters as they strolled unhurriedly to the small, sturdy hut perched just past the point where all the docks converged. Novia followed, creeping across the warehouse until she reached its end, and jumping the distance to the next one. She knew once the men slipped into that hut and shut its door against the wind she would be unable to hear them any longer. Not unless she wanted to drop down to street level and approach the hut itself, but that would be taking an unnecessary risk.

Besides, she had all she needed from them.

For now.

After seeing them safely ensconced in their small workspace, she set her sights on a different building a short ways beyond. This was a larger, more imposing structure, still made of wood but with significantly thicker beams, heavier posts, and sturdier frames. It faced the docks and stood like a guard dog protecting the city beyond it from the riffraff off the river. The warehouses were arrayed behind it like nervous merchants huddling for protection. This was the Northern Dock Station, where most of that locale’s extensive inspection, recording, and taxation divisions worked throughout the day and often deep into the night. At this very moment at least half the windows were lit, as inspectors hurried to finish the day’s tasks before heading home to meager suppers and fitful slumbers.

Novia was drawn toward an office at the corner of the topmost floor, but forced herself to ignore it for now. Best to handle these matters in the appropriate order, she knew, and so she quelled her own impatience. She jumped down into the alley between the two buildings and landed lightly, settling into the shadows. Then, trailing those same shadows behind her like obedient pups, Novia exited the alley and moved silently but purposefully toward the office building’s front. Anyone who might have seen her would have assumed she had some official reason for approaching that structure, based solely upon the confidence she exuded. But, even with the bright beacon of her jacket and her hair, no one noticed her.

Having studied the building’s layout on a previous scouting mission, Novia knew exactly where to go. She slid in through the front doors, shutting them silently, then crept down the long, dim hall. A few late-night workers were present, most of them hunched intently over their desks. They took no notice of Novia as she slipped past. At the first branching, she turned right, then left, then right again, finally arriving at a closed door. The placard beside it read “Yanitae Sou, Junior Dock Overseer.”

Listening at the door, Novia heard a soft susurration from within. Holding her breath, she tried the handle. It wasn’t latched. Easing it open a crack, she peered inside.

Clutter littered the office, with jumbled piles of paperwork on every surface. Pages stuck out of ledgers, some stacked so haphazardly they were an avalanche of vellum in waiting, poised to crush an unsuspecting official at the slightest jostle. Yanitae Sou, the office’s occupant, was a heavy man, made more so by complete indolence and, no doubt, frequent drink. A nearly drained bottle on his desk confirmed that last detail, as did the empty glass beside it. He lay sprawled in his chair, head back, arms out, legs forward, eyes closed, mouth open. The noise had been his snores. Novia only regarded him a second or two before sliding the door shut again.

Next she headed for the building’s narrow, rickety back stairs. One flight up she found her next destination, a door marked “Saria Lenko, Senior Dock Overseer.” There was a light on behind this door as well, but different sounds emerged through it — that of a quick scratching, with the occasional pause. Saria Lenko was not only still awake and still in her office but still working, writing reports or making notations with quill and ink.

So here, at last, was someone competent.

That was reassuring, though not for Novia’s specific purposes.

Looking in on Saria would be impossible without garnering attention, and that Novia could ill afford. She turned away and headed for the the top floor and her final stop of the night — another office, this one larger and significantly more grand.

The sign here read “Fumo Anasol, Northern Dockmaster.”

Fumo was an important man, second only to the Rivermaster himself. He was in charge of all water trade in and out of Nexus along the Yellow River via the north dock. His counterpart oversaw all commerce along the south dock facing the Gray River, and together they kept the Rivermaster advised about what came and went to their fair city.

Fumo Anasol was an older man and had held the post of Dockmaster for the past decade or more. He had worked the docks his entire life, which now comprised some six decades at least. Novia had spied him from a distance more than once, but this was the first time she had approached him directly.

But, as with Saria below, she was only able to go so far. As there, Fumo’s office still showed light, and the sound of writing emerged when she pressed her ear against the door’s smooth, polished wood — not against the frosted glass set into it, for if he had looked up then, he might have seen her shadow.

His writing was slower than Saria’s, with more fits and starts and the occasional muttered curse, followed by more frantic scratching. Mistakes, no doubt. He was an old man, after all.

More knowledge to file away.

For now, however, her night’s work was complete. This had been a fact-finding mission only, and Novia counted it a successful one as she stealthily made her way back down the stairs, through the halls, and out a small side door that let her out behind the building. She was smiling as she allowed the shadows to swallow her up as she turned her steps away from the docks. Tomorrow she could set some of her plans in motion.

Exalted: False Images is available in ebook and print via DriveThruFiction, or via Amazon Kindle or B&N Nook.

[thewiselosers]

Gym Class Losers

CHAPTER ONE: It Gets Worse

It was the first day of the party’s second week of high school when things started to turn from bad to worse, and it didn’t even have anything to do with the mindflayer, the upside down, or hawkins lab.

It was high school, and more specifically, the people in it. They’ve always dealt with bullies, but none with so much of a profound effect that arose when cramping hundreds of teenagers from different age groups and social groups into one setting. The boys found faults everywhere, from the gum laiden desks of the classrooms and unkempt bathrooms, to the overcrowded lunch area. But one thing they weren’t anticipating was the struggle of gym class. Their athletic abilities (or lack thereof) aside, they were thrown a huge curveball when they strolled into the boys locker room that first day. It was cramped and smelled of bad body odor. Trash was already littered about, and the casual half-nakedness of the upperclassmen was a hard concept to grasp when they entered the brightly lit room. From all that Steve told Dustin who in turn told the gang, and what Nancy and Jonathan could advise to their younger siblings, locker room etiquette wasn’t a topic that had been brought up in the slightest.

“What the shit.” Dustin simply said when their minds caught up with the scene before them. Most of their other classmates shared the same reservations when in the boys locker room, standing around awkwardly, waiting for some brave soul, anyone, to choose a locker and start changing.

When one did, it encouraged some others to also join in on the too public strip-down from carefully picked outfits (thanks, mom) to the plane t-shirt and shorts provided by the school, its mascot proudly ironed on the chest. Will looked to Mike, who looked at Lucas who looked from Dustin back to Mike, as they all shuffled toward nearby lockers. Mike and Will’s beside each other, and Dustin and Lucas across from them. One boy their age, Chester, had the unfortunate case of wearing ripped underwear, and just as he began to pull up his gym shorts, a group of upperclassmen passed by, shirtless and rowdy, and proceeded to take advantage of the laughable situation.

“Chuckie’s got a little show going for us, huh boys?”

As the smaller boys turned toward the interruption, the head boy proceeded to poke his finger through one of the holes and pull the fabric down, exposing Chesters pale-white butt to half the class.

The two other boys he was with burst into laughter, and around half of the boys in the hall began to join in. Whether genuinely at Chesters expense, or to simply please the older boys, the party wasn’t sure. Chester frantically pulled his shorts up, mortified. The party was less than amused, and proceeded to clutch their gym clothes to their chest, and high tail it to the boys bathroom at the end of the locker room, where nearly a quarter of the other boys in their class were waiting for a chance to use the stall next (and it wasn’t because it was after lunchtime).

That was the routine for the rest of the week. The new class waiting in long lines to change in the stalls, or awkwardly change out it the open, like too easy prey in the daylight.

That first friday Coach Rowlins anounced something that caused stomachs to drop.

No one was to use the bathroom to change unless they had a note from a parent saying they couldn’t do so in the locker room. It was a grateful luxury the party now realized they may have taken for granted.

“Maybe it won’t be that bad.” Mike said to the group, all too sure of himself. Dustin and Lucas resigned themselves.

That weekend Mike spent the night at Wills’ house and the two did homework together. They were lucky to be in the same math class  but Will found their teacher, Ms. Barwick, hard to understand. She taught as if everyone already knew what she was saying, like she was telling the class how she solved the problem, but not explaining how she did it. He just felt lost the whole time and it frustrated him because he was supposed to be really good at school. The textbook wasn’t any help either, because he would just end up doodling in it whenever her monotone voice caused his mind to drift. Will thought about going to the counselors office and switching classes, but he and Mike already only had one other class together, English, but Lucas was in that class too. Mike got lucky and had at least one of the party members in each of his classes, and Will didn’t like the idea of sharing their only other class together with Lucas.

Will sat cross-legged with his back against the wooden headboard of his bed.

“Did you finish the bottom half of the page?” Mike was laying on his stomach with his geometry textbook open in front of him and his binder and homework sheet beside it. His ankles were crossed and he was propping himself up on his elbows and chewing on the eraser tip of his pencil.

Will looked down at his own homework sheet, the half he was supposed to do not even close to being finished. He looked down at Mike who was laying at his feet. He realized suddenly that he literally always looked up at Mike. Mike was significantly taller than him and it didn’t help that he was the smallest in their friend group. The only time he looked down at Mike was when they were in his room like they are now. Will sighed. He slammed the textbook shut and put his binder aside.

“Come on Will it’s easy. Come here, which ones eating you?” Mike had sat up and faced Will, taking Will’s binder and looking at the nearly blank sheet of paper. Mike furrowed his brows, ready to give Will a pep talk when he noticed something peeking out of his binder. It was a sheet of paper with writing in Mrs. Byers’ handwriting. He slid it out further and saw that it read ‘Dear Coach Rowlins’.

Mike looked up at Will and Will looked from Mike to his binder, and quickly snatched the binder away from Mikes hand.

“You actually asked your mom to write you a note?” Mike’s words were loud in the previous silence. Will shrugged and tucked the letter carefully back into place. It wasn’t a big deal.

“I have real medical reasons. I can’t- i’m not comfortable and if i don’t have to then i shouldn’t. You’ve seen how the juniors and seniors are.”

Mike shook his head.

“Everyone will know and they’ll make fun of you even worse. At least if you change with everyone else, no one would care as much since we’re all in the same boat.”

“What difference does it make? I’m already zombie boy and…and you know. What’s one more nickname?”

“Trust me, Will. It’ll be easier if we all stick together. Then it won’t be so bad.”

Mike stared intently at him, urging, and Will was defeated.

“Okay. But you’re doing my math homework for the rest of the week.”

“At least watch me so you can see how i do it.”

Will glanced from Mikes careful gaze to his homework page, most of the problems effortlessly solved.

“Deal.”

For the next hour and a half the two boys sat hunched over on Wills bed, Mike like a teacher, explaining each step he made and why he made it. Will felt much better going into math class that monday, but his unease for gym class didn’t go away.

The locker room was cramped more so than ever now that all the boys had to change in there. The party of four made their way to the lockers as they did that first day, only this time they actually began to strip. They looked awkward and felt awkward, wondering just how many eyes were on them. Lucas and Dustin were smart enough to open some of the empty lockers around them to block anyones view. Mike and Will were beside each other, but the lockers around them were occupied. Will looked up at Mike, who gave him a small “don’t think about it smile”. Will unbuttoned his pants, fidgeting with the button, and zipped the zipper down. He shimmied out of his pants. Mike did the same, stepping out of his. They both pulled their gym shorts on and felt a little better. Mike changed his shirt, and Will did the same.

Dustin let out a laugh and gestured his head to Wills shirt. Will looked down at himself and then proceeded to swivel his head around like an owl. He had put his shirt on backwards. Will laughed it off as Mike reached over and pulled out the tag from Wills chest. Will shoved him off and raised his shirt over his head, exposing his stomach, but was cut off by a wolf whistle from not too far away. He quickly pulled his shirt back over himself and turned toward the source of the intrusion.

“Look what we have here. A school of guppies swimming in the big pond.”

It was Tommy and his couple of goons. The prime predators of the boys locker room. Tommy was a junior now, a little taller, more muscular and handsome as ever. Like the devil. No one at Hawkins high would say he was the friendliest person in the town, but sometime during the summer before the party entered high school, Tommy had become meaner than ever before. Where in the past he would just stir up trouble, now he actively sought it out.

“Actually guppies don’t swim in schools, fish do.”

Lucas smacked Dustin on the shoulder, and he threw his hands up defensively with a regretful look of “i couldn’t help it”.

“What was that?” They had Tommy’s full attention now. Dustin didn’t respond as the normally loud commotion of the locker room began to die down, anticipating the attack that was surely to come. Tommy looked back at the group of four boys, sizing them up with glee.

“Sinclair, didn’t the school give you a separate room for you to change in?” He asked as if it were a genuine question, and turned to his two friends, who gave comical 'gee i don’t know’ expressions.

Tommy gave a cursory glance toward Will, then looked blankly forward. He loudly exclaimed-

“This boys head’s on backwards! They don’t call him Zombie Boy for nothing now do they? Oh wait! My mistake. He just doesn’t have mommy here to dress him right.”

Laughter broke out as everyone turned to Will, who still hadn’t fixed his shirt.

“You better take that back Tommy.” Mike glared with all the bravery his lanky 5'7" frame could give him.

“Yeah and we’re not guppies. Were ninth graders now which means-”

Tommy cut Dustin off with a harsh Slam! Of metal from one of the locker doors he so smartly left open. The air was palpable.

Tommy breezed forward, his voice like gravel. He was just talking to them. No show for everyone else to hear.

“I’ve got another two years with you dweebs. It’s in your best interest to stay out of my way.”

Dustin was grabbed by the shirt, but instead of Tommy yanking him towards forward like he thought the older boy would, he simply leaned in close and whispered in his ear. “Make a fool of me again. And i’ll be sure to give you your old smile back.”

Tommy let go and stepped back, amused with himself.

“And you. Little Frankenstein.”

Tommys eyes were on Will, a malicious smile on his face.

“I suggest you let coach Rowlins know you’ll be changing in the bathroom from now on. On account of all your medical reasons. You don’t want to infect all of us in here now do you Byers?”

Will looked around nervously but saw no one; all too conscious of the ears that might have heard the older boy.

“Do you?” Tommy’s voice was firmer now. He wanted an answer. Will looked up at him and shook his head.

“Right. Well boys you better get on out there. Physical Ed is important for your growing bodies.” Tommy walked away with his two shadows in tow.

Lockers slammed shut and the atmosphere became polarizing as boys rushed out of the room to continue with their day.

Will stood rigid, and Dustin and Lucas looked drained of all enthusiasm.

“You were right Mike. It wasn’t so bad, it was worse.”

Will gave Mike one last defeated look before heading out the locker room, not even bothering to check if his friends were following him. Mike watched Will leave, a sad confusion eating at him.

[laisvega]

Dreams 1 - 24/3/18

This is an extremely random post, I know. But I’ve come to a decision to write out all those dreams that are extremely vivid. Those that can be recalled as if they happened in real life.

They make scarcely to no sense at all. Also the narrative is messy, as I try my best to be very specific.

You may read it and let me know what you think. Or not.

The dream starts in the middle, or close to the end.

I can see myself with a group of five more people. Sometimes from my own eyes, but also as a separate entity. Sort of depersonalised.

The person that's supposed to be me is standing by a wall at what seems to be a hotel lobby, and we're checking out. The clothes she wears are fit for cool summer. A white shirt, black sweat-pants and a comfortable knitted jumper. She's reading the newspaper and laughs at something she read in the front page.

The point of view now shifts and I'm looking at the paper with my own eyes. The aura around is still relaxing, nothing feels out of place.

A maroon carpet is beneath my feet. The walls are of burgundy wood, and there are many frames hanging about. Paintings are about boats.

The headline reads: 'Movie stars, cheap even if they have it all.' The main picture showed Jennifer Lawrence with a nice, simple orange dress, slippers, and she's carrying a lot of bags. The bags are around the tones of orange, beige, and light brown. Reading further at the note, it said that she had removed all unchargable things from her room.

My mother and I had seen her earlier at the hotel's restaurant. We pointed at her, excited that we'd seen her. She's a fantastic actress.

What she had removed from her room were those little things that the hotel gifts, like shampoo, creams, soap, etc. But she took more, apparently.

So I tell my mom, "Look, she did it like Ross."

"A what?" said my mom.

"Ross Geller, from Friends. He removed everything possible from every hotel he stood in. Do you remember that episode with Chandler in Vermont? Ross took the batteries off the remote, toilet paper, lightbulbs of each lamp, even the salt!"

My mother remembers it and laughs. We had done closely the same just hours ago.

The point of view changes again, as well as the scene around. I'm looking from the outside, my mother is gone, I see myself standing at the same spot, with the same clothes, but everything is different.

She is scared, as if she's running from something.

Now the group of people comes into the dream. I've never seen their faces before, in real life. But they don't match any actors, actresses, singers, either. They're just entirely new faces.

There's a dark-skinned girl, a little bit shorter than me with sort of chestnut-coloured dreadlocks. She wears clothes that are for heavy winter: grey sweatpants, boots, a white scarf and caramel-coloured jacket—those with fur on the inside and for rain on the outside.

Another girl is standing by her side; she's light-skinned, blonde with hair shoulder-length. She's also heavily dressed with a faded-pink coat, a grey hoodie popping at the back.

At the other side of the girl that's supposed to be me, stands another boy. Short and nerdy-looking, with think rimmed glasses over his black eyes. His coat is checkered with red, green and blue. There's a cheeky feeling coming from the person that is me: she's thought the coat of that boy is very similar to a Scottish kilt. His hair is shaved close to the head. He is scared, too.

Right in front of my physical body there is a boy much taller than all. His hair is dark brown, some flecks over his face, and his eyes are grey. The colour of a storm. His skin is fair and I make the remark that he is quite handsome with that navy blue jacket.

The point of view changes and I'm staring at them with my own eyes, feeling lost. Not quite grasping what is happening. The only thing I can understand is that we're running, hiding, and trying to escape.

Where the wooden walls of the hotel stood before, behind me it had turned to moss-green. As if the place had been abandoned for decades. Across the hall, the wall was gone. There was . . . a beach instead. I can notice it is dark outside, must be very late at night.

The girl with the caramel coat says to me, "You're going to freeze with those clothes, don't you have anything else to wear?"

And it's just then that I notice the howling wind. And fuck it is cold. My body trembles and I hug my charcoal jumper closer. My sweatpants don't cover my ankles and the shoes either.

They all catcall and run towards the beach. It's then that I notice there was another person with us. Short, chubby, blond hair curly, but shaved.

"C'mon lads!" he shouts at the very lead.

I think he sort of reminded me of Peter Pettigrew. But there's no distrust.

I want to follow them. And depersonalised again I see myself walking through the corridor looking for winter clothes.

Around the corner there are some things hanging by the wall. Back in first person I count three jackets, Ugg-like boots, and a cocoa-brown scarf that had seen better days.

I grab the army-green jacket, button up my jumper and when I'm trying to put it on I sense someone talking to me.

For an impossibly fleeting second I glimpse at some lad sitting on the bench looking at me. He's just said something that I didn't hear. When I try to ask him what he's just said, he is gone. All I can remember is that his hair was wavy and black. There was an air of Tom Riddle there somewhere—not the darkness.

The group calls me to hurry up, and I'm desperate to catch up.

But the second I took a step with the boots I'd just put on, we're at a different place. It's the same hotel, but the scenery just feels strange. Now we're even more scared. Terrified.

It's then that I realise that what we're running from is the IT clown, that Pennywise or whatever the name is. I've never watched the films, not the old version, or the new one. All I know from the new film is that Mike from Stranger Things is there, and the youngest Skarsgard—brother to Floki of Vikings. Nothing else.

When I catch up to my group—like in dreams you just know things—I know there are plenty other people trapped inside the same place. I never got to see them though.

My group is talking to a couple of men. One of them looks like Jack Nicholson, the other one. . . I didn't get to see his face.

I'm looking at myself, the group, and the men from on top. As if I was a drone. These men are explaining them how to escape that place, or how to defeat IT. She can't listen to what they're saying.

I watch myself turn around and look at the place. Back through my eyes I see we're at the hotel's entrance hall. The place is massive, at my right two grand staircases rise on each side of the hall. A grand balcony at the top, some closed doors can be seen, but they are not bedrooms. I know that at any moment, something can come out from those doors or from the hallways that lead to the rooms.

At my left, up a couple of steps, three large double doors are shut, locked from wall to wall. That could have been an escape route. It was too obvious.

We are all so fucking scared.

The place has been abandoned for ages, walls are mossy, and the floor is black with dirt. Everything is rotten.

It seems that we've gotten to the last phase of whatever we were doing inside this place. It suddenly feels like a game, but it's the real life—inside the dream.

Nerdy-Boy tells us that some other group has trapped IT within the hotel, so that is our chance to find a way to get out.

At my right, two men pass by with frustrating calm. We're all scared shitless and they just stroll by.

One is sitting on a wheelchair, and the other one is pushing. Apparently these were the men my people were just talking to.

The men remove their wigs and beards and the blonde girl says, "You were the ones that defeated Pennywise in the very first film!"

They nod, extremely proud, and then say, "This one is not the same as before. He's new."

And I say, "Yes, he's that Skarsgard lad. I don't know his name. Phillip? Louis?"

Why was that helpful, I have no idea.

But the men just continue their way without another word.

I feel like there's been a jump of about two hours, where chaos had already ensued. My group is scrambled; the boy that looked like Peter Pettigrew is missing. We're all at our nerve's end. Frightened, because we know that IT is closing in on us.

We've gone somewhere else in those two hours I know have passed but cannot remember what happened. But we're back at the entrance hall.

We're sweating ice cold, shaking with fear. Knowing somehow that we only have minutes left. And it's just me, the handsome boy, and likely the blonde girl. Nerdy-Boy and the girl with dreadlocks are a few feet away, but already too far.

Handsome Boy and the blonde are arguing over something. Meanwhile I'm looking at the massive double doors. Its wood black, uncared, decayed.

I look beneath the doors; there is a small space between them and the floor. Outside I first see a small road where chauffeurs leave their passengers. Then green lawn, bases of trees.

And so many people.

As if whatever we were doing inside the mansion-like hotel was something worth watching. Like the way parents wait for their kids outside school.

I stand back up. The place I'm inside so much different to the world outside. My friends are still bickering. Time is short.

I kneel down again and look outside. I see adults cheering, smaller kids laughing. There are balloons, people with costumes on.

There is one that calls my attention particularly. It's Woody, from Toy Story. He's waving his arms, the massive head the person underneath is wearing has a big creepy smile.

I stand back up. Then kneel down. The action is repeated four more times, and each time I peek outside, Woody's face turns more sinister.

That's when I know there is no more time left.

I stand back up and exclaim to whoever is close to me, "Help me, these doors have to mean something! There must be a way of unlocking them!" My voice is desperate. I'm terrified.

The first set of doors is locked. The second one is not. I turn the handle . . . and it opens.

The clarity of outside hurts my eyes at first. But we run.

The people outside run towards us; stampede actually. But they're not friends. I know that if they catch us, they're going to put us back inside the house. I'm naturally fast and in my dream I have the athletic body I once had during high school. So I slip away easily from those that try to catch me. I feel heavy though, and that heaviness slows me down to the point I dread the others will catch me.

I know two more had managed to come out with me before the door closed again.

While running for our lives I see across the lawn several parked vehicles.

I shout, "Silver pickup truck!" and make my way to a Mazda truck. Quite new.

The truck's owner is closing in on me, I just know. Not once I looked back at the house.

I get in on the driver's seat, my friends at the back and I know that more people had also jumped in the car. People that weren't trapped inside the house with us.

Stepping on the gas we drive away. I hate automatic cars so I curse at it's delay in reaction. But we're free.

It's then that I notice the person that sits besides me is my volleyball teacher, and he's leading us somewhere else.

I trust him, don't know why. So I obey and follow his directions.

The road ahead is straight and it seems we drive through a dessert like scenery. There is nothing on either side of the road. Somehow that does not worry us.

It's night again when we get to wherever we were going. We all get out of the car and the strangers that were in the car with us turned out to be allies. They are around my age and I learn there that these people had also been trapped in that terrifying mansion. They don't actually say it, but then again I just know.

My teacher stays outside, so as to guard the place. We're at a sort of abandoned Napa Valley-style house—or Tuscany-like—with vines growing on the walls, crystal doors. Like the house of that film The Parent Trap.

There are a lot more people in the house. All around the same age. As we walk inside I look at their faces. Still I don't recognise a single one from my real world. They all seem friendly and accepting of us, but I shut down. I feel odd, uncomfortable. Maybe it's the adrenaline and fear that are keeping me on edge. Not sure.

It walls are cream coloured, the only light comes from the telly set these youngsters are watching. Few vines creep the inside of the house. But they somewhat fit with the frames that hang. Across the hall there are three doors that lead to bedrooms. Behind us, a makeshift kitchen.

A girl that seems to be a younger version of Dr. Bailey from Grey's Anatomy but with blue eyes urges us to sit on the floor. They are all cuddled around in front of the television eating popcorn.

The only two that managed to get out of the house were the handsome boy and a girl that I realised used to be an old schoolmate. She wasn't part of my group inside the house, but she was in there with us.

Handsome Boy sits behind me. He puts his arms on my shoulders and his knees on each side of mine. I realised there that I really like him. My heart's slamming in my chest and swallowing gets hard. His hand suddenly travels down my belly, slowly, caressing, and fuck I was so ready.

"We're in public." I hissed.

I feel his chest rumble. So I plan on getting up and walking to one of the rooms at some point.

We're changing channels, searching for something light and funny. To help us calm down.

My schoolmate has sat a few feet away and already made friends. I on the other hand glare at these people and exchange the remote for popcorn.

There is another jump in time again, two hours I believe. Someone rings the bell.

Dread is what I see on the faces of everyone around.

A girl taller than me gets up and walks to the door. It's ocean blue like her shirt. Her hair is chocolate, straight and long, reaching her waist.

"Stop!" I say, walking behind her, "See who it is, first."

She nods and looks through the peep hole. I walk to the kitchen and stare from the large window.

A girl stands outside. Scared shitless. She wasn't part of my group, but I know who she is. Her hair is dark brown, shoulder length, damp from sweat. Her light skin shivering. By the road, stood my teacher looking away.

I suspect her immediately. Maybe because she is Handsome Boy's girlfriend—which would leave me with zero chance.

The girl that looked like Dr. Bailey says that the reason they are there, mingling with the public outside the mansion, and in this house, is to guard all those that manage to escape that horrific place.

Something just does not sit right. Where are the people that are part of this safe heaven, meant to guide those that escape? How did she escape? How did she get here? Why isn't the teacher with her?

They open the door nonetheless, and the girl barges right in. She shouts her boyfriend's name and hugs him around the waist. He stands there gobsmacked, then hugs her equally fiercely. There is a pang in my chest.

Everyone coddles her and sit her by the telly. I am left behind, still suspicious.

As I close in on the group, someone vociferates my doubt. But another reasons, "Pennywise cannot escape that house, not physically. It’s trapped inside."

The girl's grey eyes shimmer and Handsome Boy pulls her closer. Just a breath away.

'Not physically' I repeat in my head. The thought that next comes to mind is what if IT somehow managed to get into the girl's body?

The girl looks up at her boyfriend; she raises and goes in to kiss him. He is lowering to meet her halfway—

"Hold on!" I snap and grab her arm.

Then I wake up.

[6ix-dragons]

Fairy Tail Fan Impressions (FTFI): Chapters 542 and 543

(Be aware; spoilers for the latest FT chapters can be found below!)

Me: So, what do you think you’re gonna do next, when this story comes to a close?

“Me? I’m just gonna follow another series. I heard that My Hero Academia is all the rage, these days!”

Me: Yeah, I’m probably going to follow that series, too. If only there was an anime—or manga—that would cater to my tastes...

“Really? Like what?”

Me: You know, hockey...on ice. Maybe they should make an anime about speed skating, too, while they’re at it.

To those wondering what happened to the new FTFI that I mentioned, was supposed to happen a few days ago...I must apologize, again. I got caught up in a whole bunch of things—namely Canada Day/Canada 150, NaLu Week...you know the rest. Good news, ‘though, is that instead of covering only one chapter in one post (just like last time), I’ll be covering both 542, AND the latest chapter of the manga—543!

Alright, so, let’s get things started! Before I begin discussing about the latest chapter—and what I think of it, overall—I just want to do a brief recap of the previous chapter, as it obviously leads into the events that happen in 543. 

Now, I just want to make this recap of 542 even more condensed, than what I did for the recap of 540. To recap the events of the previous chapter: the plan goes awry, when Acnologia continues his rampage across the town; Acnologia, himself, continues to manhandle most of the Seven Dragon Slayers; Lucy finally finds the book that creates the Fairy Sphere; finally, all of the boats in Hargeon are destroyed by the Black Dragon, when he’s led into Hargeon. 

Phew! That was quick. 

Okay, so, what do I think about this chapter? Not bad, but I do think there can be a couple things that could’ve been addressed (maybe in the new, and upcoming anime adaptation?). One of them, has to be the focus on the other Dragon Slayers, in their fight against Acnologia. Not just Natsu, but the others who are also involved. I know there’s not much room to write for Mashima...but, at least he could have given more attention to the other Dragon Slayers—such as Cobra. 

The other one, would be how magic affects Acnologia. We all know that he’s pretty much immune to just about any type of magic. However, Acnologia being immune to Dragon Slayer magic just doesn’t make any sense. After all, Dragon Slayer Magic is used for the purpose that it’s named after—to destroy such dragons, just like him! Unless proven otherwise, the only way it seems that Acnologia can be defeated, would be what some have called, the ass-pull ‘friendship’ way.

Also, there’s a couple of things in this chapter that I find interesting, based on the reactions of some readers. One of them is the destruction of the boats...and yes, some people have already mentioned about how Lucy’s plan was flawed from the beginning, and how it already wasn’t going to work, now that this happened. Also, there’s the whole commotion, about Erza being the one to knock Acnologia out of the skies. Now, I thought about both those things that were brought up, in the chapter...and then, I thought about how some things can make sense out of those two events. Then, I realized, some of those things do make sense, and that they’re both explained...especially, in the next chapter.

That brings us to chapter 543 of the manga. Ohhh, aye, sir-ee, indeed!

To start things off, for this latest chapter, we have the mages at Hargeon, who are recovering from Dragon!Acnologia’s attack (that destroyed the boats). Then, here’s the one thing that gets addressed, from the previous chapter—and, it’s all (pardon the pun, here) a-boat how there can still be a ship that’s used against Acno! Gray devises an idea with Lyon, as they’ll make a giant boat out of ice...I bet some people didn’t realize that, from the previous chapter! Also, Mira and Erza are going to be ones to attract Acnologia’s attention, while they’re doing so. 

Then, we have Lucy, Freed, and Levy, who are all sweeping into Hargeon, with the help of the Exceeds. Freed mentions that he’ll make a spell that will prevent Acnologia from attacking all of them, as they’re all charging the magic needed for Fairy Sphere. That sounds nice, and all...but, will it work?

And, then...we get this wonderful moment, from Lucy. Yes, she’s reminiscing of the very first time that she met Natsu, in this very setting that they’re now fighting in. I mean, this has got to be one of the best things ever to happen, to the NaLu fans...such as I! It’s all significant, and symbolic, too—the whole story started in Hargeon...and now, it’s all ending in the same town! In fact, she declares that she’ll meet with Natsu, ‘once more’. You could not solid-script this any better than that. 

Meanwhile, Natsu and the other Dragon Slayers are still taking on Acnologia, in the other realm. There’s a speech from the fiery dragon-slayer himself, about how dragons are supposed to be gentle and what-not, speaking on the experiences he shared with Igneel, growing up. That pisses off Spirit!Acnologia a lot, and the reasoning for his anger arising from Natsu’s speech...is one that’ll be considered a spoiler for the Dragon Cry movie. I won’t mention it, here, but it does come to show about his motivations that lead to all sorts of villainous stuff he has done, so far. Does it justify his motivations and actions? Yes. Is it really necessary to show it all, at this point (in the story)? No, not really. 

Then, after Spirit!Acnologia tries to get after Natsu, with an attack of his own...the pink-haired dragon-slayer manages to get up off on his feet, much to the great surprise of the Black Dragon. Turns out that Wendy was probably the one who saved Natsu. 

Speaking of her, she manages to enchant something into Natsu that’s much more significant than what she has done, before! Combining the other six magical powers from the rest of the Dragon Slayers, into one, Wendy casts all of their magic into Natsu, who will be the one to defeat Acnologia. Now, if this seems like B.S. to some of you...then, it probably is. I mean, don’t get me wrong, but we expected all Seven Dragon Slayers to band together, and defeat him, by combining their powers together. This isn’t what was expected at all, with this chapter—and, it doesn’t really answer the question of whether the Dragon Slayer Magic does work at all against a juggernaut, like Acnologia.

Anyway, back to Earthland. The giant ship that Gray and Lyon are making, has been complete, and everyone else has positioned themselves, ready and prepared to do what’s next. We see Lucy preparing to deploy Fairy Sphere, and then we see Erza and Mira actually leading Dragon!Acno to their intended location. On cue, Erza manages to unleash a whole bunch of swords that catches Dragon!Acnologia blind-sided. Now, here’s the thing about this, that I’ll have to address myself, in my overall impressions of this chapter. 

And, now, with Dragon!Acno landing squarely onto the ship—and, with everybody else in position, Lucy finally casts Fairy Sphere. There’s actually one small scene that I liked, from this, and it’s where Carla (in her human form) offers a hand to Chelia Blendy. Considering what happened to Chelia, after her fight against Dimaria from much earlier on, it’s a pretty nice—yet, significant—gesture that I do really like. I think it also goes to say, from this little scene...that regardless of whether you have magic power, or not, you can still share in the love and positive feelings everyone’s putting out, which is what a part of FT is all about. So, well done, there, Mashima. 

Finally, we cap off this chapter, with Fairy Sphere beginning to be deployed, and Natsu charging at Acnologia, with all combined powers in his hand. 

Before I go on with my overall thoughts, about this chapter, I just want to bring up the Question of the Chapter: Who do you think will win, in the end? Natsu, and the others? Or, Acnologia?

See, the reason why I ask this, is because of the whole thing about how magic affects Acnologia. Sure, it was stated by Acno himself that he was “immune to all magic”...or that type of spiel. But, what if it wasn’t really true? I mean, for all we know, he can totally take on against any sort of magic that’s thrown against him, and he’ll still be able to walk with just a minor scratch. That’s for sure. However, the thing about it is...well, it’s only magic (per se) that he’s resistant to. 

Now, think about this, for a second. Dragon Slayers are powerful beings...but their one weakness, if there’s anything, would be anything moving that they’re situated on/in. Be it, trains, steamships, a makeshift wooden raft—anything that’s in motion! What if, in the grand scheme of things, Acnologia being on the ship, would make him motion-sick? That would also probably affect Acno, in his spirit world, too!

To be clear, I thought it was funny about how people are up in arms, on how it doesn’t make sense that Natsu can use DS magic against Acno...but don’t seem to know the small little details that can lead to significant implications. 

However, I’ll be really surprised, if Acnologia pulls out of it, unscathed. I don’t know what to think about that! 

So, what do I think about this chapter, overall? I thought it was good...a little bit more than okay. If there’s anything that can be considered a theme, in this chapter, it would be teamwork. And, I like a lot of it that was being put on display, for 543. Major characters, side characters, minor characters...you name it, they all work together to achieve the one common goal they pursue, and that is to defeat Acnologia. It was all well demonstrated, and I commend Mashima for that. I would also commend him again, for that little scene between Carla and Chelia...that was a nice, little touch. 

If there’s anything I have, against this chapter...it would be the things I’ve already mentioned. Namely, the focus on the other Dragon Slayers, the whole thing about Acno’s backstory, and Natsu’s speech, beforehand. 

Now, I want to address about the whole thing with Erza’s sword attacks against Acno (that brought him down onto the ship, in the first place). If I recall correctly, she mentioned in an earlier chapter, that regular sword attacks do not work against him, unless they are enchanted. This brings me to two sides of the issue here. One of which, is consistency. Unless there’s a mistake with the fan/official translations, then it’s otherwise concerning to see such inconsistency like this. 

The other side of the issue, is the nature of her magic. It makes sense to use her Requip magic; although she controls weapons with this particular magic, but the weapons themselves are “physical”, and not created with it. So, it technically makes sense to use this ability, against an enemy that’s immune to magic. However, it doesn’t address completely, about what she mentioned, in the paragraph above. I’m gonna go on a whim, and say that it may as well be a mistranslation in that chapter...or that something like this will have to addressed in the upcoming anime adaptation. 

Alright, so that is it, for this post. A lot of thanks, to those who have read this post, from the top. Click on the heart button if you like this post; follow my blog, if you like this kind of content...reblog this post to all of your friends...(breathes deeply). Two more chapters (two and a half, if there’s an epilogue after). Let’s just wait and see what happens at the battle’s closing, ladies and gentlemen. I have a feeling this will be a big one. 

[acreasy1]

Aftermath

Written for @timepetalsprompts this was for the random word generator.  I got the words “wreckage” and “fingertip”. 

Read it on Ao3

Nine x Rose

Hurt/Comfort, sort of fluff.  There’s bed sharing and huddling for warmth, so...if you’re into that, you might like this. 

Word Count: 1557, according to my ancient version of Word

Aftermath

The Doctor’s head pounded as he grudgingly opened his eyes.  Salty waves lapped at his feet and he managed to pull himself up into a sitting position.  As his vision cleared, he became acutely aware that Rose’s hand was no longer entwined with his own. 

“Rose?” he called out hoarsely.  

The sound of the waves lapping on the shore was his only answer.  He shook his head and peeled off his leather jacket, getting himself to his feet.  The world swirled around him and he paused for a moment.  The swaying stilled and he surveyed the scene.  The sky was gray with clouds, and rain threatened to start again soon.  

The storm came up unexpectedly surprised all of them- even the captain.  It hadn’t been long till the fierce winds snapped the mast and they were all swimming for their lives. The wreckage of the small boat was washing up on shore, cracked timbers and ruined supplies littering the beach.

“Rose?” he called out, a bit louder.  

He took a few steps, and scanned the vast expanse of shoreline.  The beach to the right was void of anything other than debris, but there was a dark shape in the sand to the left.  On shaky legs, the Doctor hurried to the lump in the sand, sliding down next to it.  It was her. Waves washed around her legs and the Doctor rolled her onto her back.  She was pale and her skin was cool to the touch, but she was breathing.  He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in. 

“Rose…c’mon, Rose, open your eyes for me,” he said urgently. 

A large wave broke further up the beach, soaking both of them.  He looked up at the darkening clouds and picked her up carefully- they needed to get somewhere reasonably safe.  He carried her up the beach, and away from the sea and into the waving grasses. He looked around for shelter as he cradled a limp and cold Rose in his arms.  On the edge of the grasses there was a low, dark smudge.  He dared not hope that it was a building, but perhaps it was something- anything to protect them from the rain that threatened to start any minute.   The skies opened up as he trudged through the sand.  He shifted Rose in his arms, trying to protect her from the cold, driving rain. The wind pushed against him, slowing his progress.  The dark shape was coming into focus, and even through the storm, he could see that it was a small hut.  It was luck- pure and simple.  With a renewed sense of determination, he slogged through the sand.  

The door was old and weather-beaten.  He knocked once, and only waited a few seconds before fumbling for the sonic. The device faltered at first, then whirred to life, opening the door.  He shut it quickly behind him, surveying the inside of the tiny shack. There wasn’t much- a small cot in the corner, a tiny tin stove, a store of sticks and kindling along the wall and a few split logs next to that.  The place was deserted- likely a fishing shack for summer use.  It was a good sign in more ways than one.  If there was a building of any kind, it meant that the island was populated.  Perhaps it was even their intended destination, but he shook his head, focusing on Rose. She was cold and wet and needed attention. He pulled back the two thin wool blankets and placed her on the slightly musty straw mattress.  He peeled off her jeans and tee shirt, leaving her in her under-things, then covered her with the blankets and checked her pulse and breathing. For now, she was safe enough, but needed to get warm.  The wind gusted outside, rattling both the single window as well as the door.

The Doctor shivered a bit and turned his attention to the small stove.  He took a log and a large handful of tinder, arranging them carefully in the box.  After a few quick pulses from the sonic, the tinder caught fire and soon he had a cheery blaze.  He shut the door and opened the dampers, encouraging the fire to burn.  There was a wooden chair in the corner and he hung her clothes over it, hoping that they would dry quickly.  

The wind gusted again, causing the door to shake on its hinges.  Rose made a small noise in the back of her throat.  His focus shifted instantly back to her and he knelt down, smoothing his thumb across her cheek.   “Rose?” he asked softly.  “Can you talk to me?  Are you okay, sweetheart?”   She groaned a bit and coughed weakly.  He put his hand behind her head, and turned her on her side, patting her back.  “That’s right, cough it up,” he said, wondering if she’d inhaled some of the sea water.  

She coughed again and made a soft whimper in the back of her throat.   “Doctor?” Her voice was raspy.  

“Right here, Rose,” he assured her, holding her hand.  “You alright?”   She coughed again.  “Cold.”

“Workin’ on that,” he smiled.  “There’s a fire going.  That little stove’ll be puttin’ off some heat soon.”  

She made a little sound of displeasure.   “I know,” he said gently.  “Are you in pain?  Anythin’ hurting you?”   Her nose wrinkled. “J-just cold.”   He stood up.  “Let me see if there’s anythin’ I can do to help.”  He looked around the interior of the small building and eyed a little cupboard in the corner.  Hopefully, he walked to the cupboard and opened the door.  The hinges squeaked and revealed a small kettle and a tin cup.  He bit his lip.  At least a bit of hot water could help warm Rose…it wouldn’t be tea, but it might be better than nothing.  He hadn’t noticed a water pump outside and there certainly wasn’t one inside the tiny shack.  He looked outside and smiled.  Rain was still pounding noisily on the tin roof.  He opened the door and ran out, leaving the lid of the kettle off, hoping it would quickly fill with drinkable water.   “It’s pourin’ out there,” he commented as he walked back in.  Her eyes were closed again and he sighed.  “You still with me Rose?”   “Yeah,” was the barely audible reply.  She’d curled herself up into a little ball and was shivering.   He licked his lips and sighed, peeling off his jumper and jeans.  Although they’d begun to dry, they were still wet and wouldn’t help him raise her body temperature.  Clad only in his shorts, he climbed into the single bed with her pulling the scratchy wool blankets over the two of them.  “I’m going to help you get warm,” he explained, “the fire’ll help too, but I know you’re cold right now.”   The Doctor carefully turned so they were lying on their sides, facing each other.  He wrapped his arm around her snugly and rubbed her back.  His leg wrapped over hers.  “There we are,” he said lightly.  “Nice and cozy; hopefully you’ll start feelin’ warmer soon.”  He continued his ministrations, trying to improve the blood flow in her body.  Her chest was pressed up against his own and he could feel the beat of her single heart as he tried to keep her comfortable.  Slowly her body temperature started to rise, along with the air temperature in the little hut.  

As Rose began to warm, she stopped shivering and opened her eyes, looking at him.  “Thanks,” she said quietly. He smiled.  “My pleasure, sweetheart.”   “Where are we?” she asked.   The Doctor licked his lips.  “Not quite sure, actually.  I found you a few meters down the beach from me and saw that it was goin’ to start raining again.  I saw this place and brought you here.”  He looked around.  “At least we know there are inhabitants around.  Somebody had to build this place.”   “D’you think the TARDIS is close by?” she asked softly.   He sighed.  “You know as much as I do, Rose.  It was stolen and taken on a ship to an island just south of the mainland. I don’t know how far off course we are. This could be the place we’re lookin’ for, or somewhere completely different.”  

“Did anyone else make it?” she asked softly.

He shook his head. “There wasn’t anyone else near us, Rose, but they could’ve been made it to shore elsewhere.  They might be alright.”   A tear streaked down her cheek and he brushed it away with his fingertip.  “They were so nice.”   “They might be okay,” he said hopefully.  “We made it to shore.  Good chance that a sturdy crew like that could’ve done the same, yeah?”   A ghost of a smile came on her face. “Yeah…I hope so.”  

He nodded.  “Me too.”

She sighed softly. “’M tired.”

He nodded.  “Get some rest.  ‘M sure you’re exhausted.  I know I am.”

He held her close to him and she drifted to sleep almost instantly.  The rain beat down, but they were safe and relatively comfortable.  The Doctor was keenly aware of how nice it was having Rose wrapped around him.  He sighed softly.  Tomorrow they could resume their search for his missing ship, but tonight he was content enough to be curled up with a sleepy little human.  

[crstapor]

The Toilet Bowl

Harrison Krutch wasn’t the sort of man who would take shit from anybody, though he would take a crap wherever he liked. Sheriff once caught him crapping behind the Dairy Queen near the Interstate, and that only a week after he’d given Walmart’s pallet shed a double deuce. Since a child he’d been animal-like with his waste. A trait most thought he’d learned from his pa. Fact of it that one day he’d seen his chocolate lab, Skip, going where he would; that was enough for Harrison. Dog and boy were close before old man Sessions and the grizzled Chevrolet. Nine years since Skip departed it still dredged up pain whenever Harrison put memory to it. He was doing so just then, heading about 55 per down Willow, when he realized those burritos weren’t sitting any longer.

> Fuckin fire sauce …

December and a cold one he pulled into an Exxon with lights. Opening the door to the interior warmth he conjured a wicked image of the lady behind the register, who he did not know. The restroom was unlocked and empty before Harrison gave it squatter’s rights. Toilet seat a patchwork quilt of sepia stains Harrison sat without care. Half way through his first big push a wooden plank covering a small hole the opposite wall rattled, squeaked, moved off its nails. Harrison eyed the activity with a dull concern; his higher mind still working out the scat. Little door fell to ground and a small boy popped his head out the ingress.

> You the one stinking up my parlor?

> This’s the place for it. What you want?

> See if you any good at games.

> I’m the best at about fifty of ’em.

> That right?

> Shit.

> You got anything to bet?

> I got a plane.

> No you don’t.

> Aright, I got a boat, but I didn’t want to say nothing or you’d think I was rich.

The boy eyed him for a steady second.

> Boat?

> Pontoon, down Center Hill.

> Fine. You can bet that, but hurry up now, game’s about to start.

Harrison pushed the last of it out while carelessly wadding up some TP. Chuckled to himself.

> Guess he don’t care it can’t float!

*

The tunnel was already small for the boy so it gave Harrison grief getting through. Pipes and slimy wood merging into gritty rocks till the man-made aspect was forgot. Scampering ahead the boy would stop every so often to make sure Harrison was keeping pace, which he was, more out of that spite some men get from bragging than any honest desire to know truth. When he thought to ask what the boy was bringing to the table, what stake he’d play in the game, Harrison nearly shouted the query down-tunnel like rifle fire.

> What about my boat?

> Said it was on Center Hill. What about it?

> What you putting up?

> You’re my second. You’re the one betting tonight.

> Huh?

> Another fifty yards then we can talk, the boy echoed back at Harrison along the darkening walls.

By the time the two gamers reached the opening alcove Harrison had thought twice someone was putting him on. Didn’t figure it was the boy because Harrison instinctually believed all children pure idiots, though he’d seen that proven wrong once or twice dealing with Charlene’s spawn. Still, it was just him and the kid so he decided to object.

> Aint going no further till you tell me about this game.

> You climbed down half a mile before getting curious?

> None of that - spill it.

> Fine. Everyone calls it something different, and no one knows when it started, but it’s been going on for a long time. Players come from all over, like you wouldn’t believe. Once you played enough, raised in the ranks, you get to bring a second. Tonight that’s you.

At which point the boy stopped speaking, carefully examined a nook in the earthen wall. Harrison realized he had no idea where it was coming from, but a pale light emanated from each crevasse and crack. Satisfied, the boy turned back to Harrison.

> Picked you for a reason.

> So?

> You lived it hard and wild right? Razor’s edge whatnot -

> You don’t know - what’s your name?

> Call me Jeff.

> And we teammates Jeff?

> Yeah, tonight we are, but before we enter the coliseum you have to promise.

> Promise to win? Already said I -

> No no, not that. You can’t make a promise like that and I wouldn’t believe it if you did. You have to promise you won’t talk about it. What happens next.

> Like that movie where Meatloaf had tits? That was a dumb movie.

His eyes beaded up, the boy, as he bore into what passed for Harrison’s soul.

> Forget it. You’ll be fine.

*

Inside the coliseum Harrison quite nearly lost his shit. He remembered thinking, while considering whether or not to utterly freak out, if it was even possible to believe it, all of it, and if he did, if that didn’t mean he was crazier than old Hudge. Hudge was damn insane and Harrison knew it. Sober he’d wrestled a black bear east of Maryville. Whole battle caught on a video not just some lip. Another time Hudge had stopped a train down by Patty’s bare-handed, or that’s what Tim Abner said and anyone called Tim Abner a liar might as well move out the state. But this, Harrison reflected, surveying the scene around the coliseum, if this was sanity they should go ahead and give Hudge his job back teaching fourth grade.

About the size of a high school gym the coliseum was a large domed chamber center of which bubbled a pit of teal lava. Around the pit a circular walkway, some ten feet up from the frothing goo, lapped the room. Harrison and Jeff, who’d entered from a seemingly hidden door, were immediately surrounded by a throng of competitors all milling about - the likes of which were Harrison’s instant cause of alarm. He’d been to Nashville once, seen enough movies to figure there had to be other people in the world, but the diversity of faces, clothes, tongues and affectations that assailed him then conjured a panic attack worse than the night Charlene’d said it was his, no lie.

Jeff noticed his second’s discomfort, set about allaying him.

> What? Now you’re a sissy?

Harrison, unable to breathe right, let alone speak, dumbly pointed around the room.

> Yeah. They’re the competition. Get a good look. That’s part of it.

As if the whole History Channel had left screen, formed up beside him, corporeal. He judged a total crowd of five hundred odd, all from what appeared as many differing homes. He saw horsemen of the American plains, grey coats or blue from the Northern War, jungle dwellers of the Amazon, what he knew as vikings then men in togas or others wearing the flowery dress of the Orient. Pasty men in weird wigs, tall gaunt ones burnished by sun and others, stranger to his eye. They were all paired two apiece, mostly keeping to themselves. Each casting a pallid hue. It was then Harrison noticed Jeff aglow as well.

> Why’re you shining? You swallow a battery?

Jeff shook his head. Smiled an elfin grin that cut Harrison to the quick.

> They didn’t even have batteries when I ate dust.

> What? Walmart’s sold batteries forever. Long as I’ve …

About that point Harrison got the picture.

Then he lost his shit.

* Jeff pulled Harrison against the wall, away from the railing and runny pile of vomit, shaking his head the while.

> I thought you were tough. Thought you’d seen it all.

> Aint never seen this! The hell could I have seen this?!?

Jeff managed a disgruntled sigh. Stroked his chin calmly, nodded at nothing. Finally shrugged his shoulders, turned toward the pit. First match had just begun.

> Phooey.

Harrison, picking something gooey out of his mouth, grimaced a bit then got interested in what was happening below. Everyone else in the coliseum was moving near the edge.

> It was just those burritos Jeff, shouldn’t have had the fire sauce -

> Fire sauce? Quiet now. Watch and learn.

> Learn what?

> How you play.

* The first match was over in about three minutes. As Harrison had it a haggard black from slave-days Mississippi fought and beat a Chinese man on a horse covered in furs. After entering the lava pit the combatants stood out on small docks and sort of stared each other down. Intent like murder, Harrison figured right as he was getting bored. The staring went on more than a minute. Then, and only after they’d taken the whole of the other, odd images emerged from the lava, the goo, the pulsing fluid underneath. The shapes began taking on forms familiar to each player, foul forms from their past. Like spectral puppets reenacting hideous moments of their lives. More the player concentrated his fury at the other the more puppets emerged, sort of swaying above the sludge like a twisted Macy’s Day parade. This continued long enough for Harrison to get bored again. Then, right as he was going to make a comment betraying his cultural sensitivities, the black’s puppets rushed his opponent in such wild barbarity full of furious hatred that Harrison could barely believe it. Engulfed, the loser fell off his dock, into the slime below.

> Hot damn! Chink ate nigga slam!

> Yeah, that’s old John Cook. He can fight. John Cook can win.

> Damn again, again I say damn! Where’s the China fellow then? He -

> He’s out Harrison. He’s gone. Shoot, Jeff said as much to the air as his second, before turning his attention to a dour man in a turban.

Harrison watched as the victor climbed out of the ring. As he was congratulated by the crowd, as what he could only figure bets were paid out or received. Jeff seemed to be working out a bet with the turban but that didn’t bother Harrison.

> But really now, where’s that Chinese gone? When’s he -

> Dammit Harrison, can’t you see I’m working a deal -

> He got nothing worth a pontoon. But that don’t change the fact of it -

> Fact of it is, if you lose down there there aint no coming back. Not only are you dead, you’re dead for good.

Harrison thought about that with pursed lips. Then inspiration hit him.

> Yeah, but what if you wasn’t dead to begin with?

> Then you’re just dead Harrison. Then you just die.

* A Roman gladiator bested an Incan scout and Harrison still didn’t know. Next an Inuit whale-slayer barely etched victory from a decrepit Aborigine which made Harrison think of his mother for some reason, a mother who’d left him to grow up alone. The Confederate soldier didn’t stand half a chance versus the child from Babylon, a loss felt by Harrison more for the memories it roused of his pa than any half-sworn dedication to rebellion or Southern pride. Then a Cherokee bowman confronted a strange figure draped in folded robes, a battle Harrison wrote off as clear-cut till it proved the most interesting bout so far. With the other spectators Harrison got so wrapped up in the win (the Bedouin, to his dismay) that he was very nearly more concerned with finding glory than preserving his immortal soul.

> Goddamn those foreigners won’t give the South a chance! I’ll show ’em a country boy can -

> What? Talk out his asshole? Grit and stones won’t do it alone. You have to have a plan. You got one?

Harrison considered Jeff’s words quickly.

> Where you from boy?

> Was raised in Missouri. What about your plan?

> Seems your plan was inviting me along. I aint scared. I’ll win if I have to.

> Guess that’s the idea. So you know, I put your pontoon up against a box of magic acorns.

> That’s fair, Harrison replied like you could buy magic acorns at Kroger. During a brief intermission Harrison surprised himself by noting the complete lack of women in attendance.

> Why aint there any girls Jeff?

> Can’t rightly say.

> So you all queers?

> Probably just have something better to do. Now shut up; this one’s worth study.

The match before Harrison’s was between an ageless Russian and a timid youth from Victoria’s England. It lasted a long time. Better half of an hour. Evenly matched, the contestants had so nearly filled the ring with ghostly muppets the eerie constructs were encroaching on the railing, forcing the fans from edge. When the killing blow was delivered no one knew who exactly had sent it. As the ectoplasm settled back to a simmer neither player could be seen. As a jubilant murmur went through the audience Jeff shouted,

> What!?! A tie!

> How’s it a tie? They both lost, Harrison said like he always knew it.

> Not in sixty-plus years … hot God …

> Who won Jeff? They both went out.

Before Jeff could answer all the lights flicked off then on in quick, triple secession.

> Shitters MacDougall. That’s game.

Harrison knew what the code meant, just didn’t believe it.

> They aint kicking us out are they? They can’t kick us out -

> Can and did.

> But I didn’t get to play!

> Saves you a pontoon.

As the spectators milled about and departed Harrison’s eyes went hazy. Mind cloudy he thought it a shame he hadn’t had his chance in the ring, that he could have won, maybe set a record. Considered assuring Jeff all about it but by then Jeff was gone.

* She’d pulled one double on top another. Didn’t really see how she needed this crap. Some pervert in the men’s room finger-painting with poo. All night too, look of it. Cops didn’t ask why she didn’t find him sooner, didn’t figure an answer make much difference. Harrison was startled when they broke through the door. Sort of woke right up. Flaccid cock in shit-stained hands. Weird scrawlings on the walls described via feces likely his own. Long, stretched out doggish figure between parallel lines. Boxy house broken in pieces. Two misshapen men striking each other, while another, with poofy hair, watched from far away. Cereal boxes or TV screens. Myriad vaginas.

Nor did he help the situation by addressing it.

> Any y’all see a little Jew boy from Missouri? Fucker owes me a box of magic figs.

[slothcritic]

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power - Episode 5 Review

The episode features boats. And two new amazing characters!

With the Flower Power Princess in their alliance, Brightmoon now turns to the sea in the hopes of recruiting Netflix’s Ariel, the Little Mermaid, to their side. 

However, as expected of a mermaid, she lives in the ocean. This means that the wonder trio is in serious need of an experienced sea captain if they want to rock that boat.

The Queen explicitly requests no violence or collateral damage, so I get the feeling we all know how that’s going to pan out.

I feel like I’m slowly falling in love with Adora’s puffy-shoulders overcoat. I’m sure there’s an actual fashion name or term for that. But it looks cool.

When the wonder trio enters the briny fishy bar, they meet some rough looking characters, and at one point Beau’s voice breaks. Like the voice actor delivers a line and the voice just pitches through the ceiling. But you know, I think that really fits his character, so that’s probably why they left it in.

Among all the bruisers and rough-housing animal and fish people, we’re introduced to a suave, majestic debonair of a daredevil that looks like the offspring of Miguel from The Road to El Dorado and Varrick from The Legend of Korra. And boy howdy does the attitude match the appearance. 

He is exactly what they’re looking for, but he is not cheap, even by royal treasury standards. I can’t remember who it was, whether it was Glimmer, Beau, Adora or even Seahawk himself, but someone challenges someone to arm wrestle, and Adora squares up against this smooth talking snake-oil seas-man.

Right here, I wanted her to go She-Ra and just destroy him, but turns out she doesn’t even need the power-up and flexes on him without issue. 

Seahawk stammers and stumbles over his words for a moment before agreeing to help, and we get our first glimpse at the idea that Seahawk may not be all he claims to be.

Back at the danger zone, Demontwister is still extremely buttrumpled over Adora up and leaving, and sends Catra to dispatch her. After some back and forth sass, Deathwalker informs her that she will not be going alone. A massive, imposing shadow looms over Catra, and we see a pair of massive lobster claws emerge from the shadows...

Right before they hug her. This is Scorpia. She has lobster arms. Well, scorpion arms, because her name is Scorpia. That’s pretty cool. 

Scorpia, as it turns out, is an absolute delight of a character. They managed to make a zany, endearing character without making them “lul sO rAndOm!!” and her antics drive Catra up the wall. Catra is now the straight man in this duo, and this is a great change of pace from being the wild card to Adora’s straight man. It also doesn’t help that, hey, they’re also on a boat! And Catra, being part cat, hates water.

We’re sailing, sailing, sailing on the ocean blue. Seahawk almost sings a shanty several times, but keeps getting cut off for one reason or another. However, when he finally does pull it off, Beau is there to back him up with the violin.

Beau is really just the flow with it, be everyone’s friend character. Though considering this goofy scene more, I hope we see more out of Beau as a character than just being the amicable comedy relief and voice of reason. Some substance to his personality would be nice. It’s very easy to write the virtuous, pure of heart, yada yada character. It’s not an issue yet, after all we’re still only at Episode 5, I just have high hopes and expectations for his character development.

We’re here! No we’re not! It’s a sea serpent. Adora turns on the spotlights and dives bravado-first into the ocean to kill it. Bye She-Ra!

The more watch this show, the more I like its art style. I found it very pretty just in the first episode, but the longer I pay attention to how it’s drawn and how the animators move the characters, the more I just appreciate looking at it. It feels unique, but also refined, focused and not too dramatically exaggerated.

Granted, it’s still very basic. The drawings are simple and the art style lends itself to being quickly and easily animated. It’s not a master class of animation or anything, and the art style isn’t completely breathtaking, after all it’s mostly flat colors with limited shading, but I still like it because they were able to take something basic and present it with a neat bow on it. Perhaps I’ve just got Star Vs The Force of Evil and Steven Universe on the brain but this style just looks so much better than those. Maybe if I watched something else, like a bunch of Studio Ghibli movies right before diving into this, I’d have a much harsher opinion of the art in this series. But for a campy Saturday morning kids cartoon, I like it and I find it’s growing on me.

The wonder trio meets the water queen, a very no-nonsense, serious and drol woman. Seahawk, ever the extroverted and dramatic goofball, is madly infatuated with her. The clash here leaves a lot to be questioned. Princess Waterlily actually has the more interesting half of the relationship here. It’s not your typical, plastic writing for your everyday tsundere because it seems like a lot of the time she genuinely dislikes him. But certain situations leave her exasperated to explain why she’s still hanging out with him. It’s nothing explicitly stated, or inferred through omission, or even spoon fed to the viewers through contrarian yet obvious tropes, but more in the idea that they just keep showing up together for SOME reason.

Anyways, the crux of this episode is pretty much the same as the last. Go to new ally, use She-Ra powers to save them, they’re happy and join the Brightmoon alliance. Huzzah. Now, since the barrier is weak and on the verge of just breaking all together, all She-Ra has to do is save the damsel in distress and-- 

Ah, yes, this trope again.

It draws into question how useful these princesses might be to Brightmoon if they’re so inept on their own. Like, I know we’re gearing up for some Princess Battle Royale at some point in the future. That’s being telegraphed years in advance. I’m sure the princesses will kick ass when that happens, and it’ll be awesome. But are they just sitting on their hands right now, waiting for She-Ra or even just The Plot to come save them from their helpless predicaments? Isn’t Lady In The Lake badass enough on her own to be able to do something at all about her current situation? Anything at all? No?

Putting that aside for now, it goes without saying that wherever the main characters go, the horde is not far behind. Catra and Scorpia have a ship, which I’m certain has no innuendo, and any further shanties have been hereby banned. Beau boards the ship with ye old faithful CareBear bow, and of course Kyle gets shot.

While this scene plays out, Glimmer turns to Seahawk for his assistance and asks him to do the one thing he’s actually good at.

“Set your ship on fire!”

He gladly obliges and they kamikaze that son of a bitch right into the other player’s battleship. Don’t ask me why a flaming wooden dinky can completely sink a floating metal tank. Maybe that’s Seahawk’s special princess power.

During all of this She-Ra and Catra have been having some incredible sexual tension on the floating platform, where the shining goddess is attempting to use the power of magic and harmony and friendship or whatever to fix the rapidly eroding magical barrier around Misty’s Splash Mountain.

With the apparent defeat of a the horde for now, Catra just... backs off I guess. And they just let them.

Little Miss Seaworld is understandable thrilled that the wonder trio and yes even Seahawk have saved her kingdom, in her own lowkey and monotone way, and grudgingly thanks Seahawk for his contributions. As thanks, her butler provides a new ship for Seahawk, christening it with a bottle of wine and everything. 

“Try not to burn this one down too.”

“No promises!”

With that, we have Seahawk and Murmista joining the party!

Conclusion

Seahawk and Scorpia are amazing. This episode is in very good fun and the new characters provide some great humor. The last four episodes were a little slow to the punch, but I found it hard to find something to dislike about this episode. The forced helplessness of the princesses here is a little off-kilter but it didn’t seem off-pace for the series and only started to bug me when I really thought about it. Initial first viewing it damn near flew over my head.

If I had to nitpick beyond that, I don’t feel like they leaned into Seahawk’s character enough. Don’t get me wrong, he’s great, but I feel like he could’ve been better if they had committed more into him instead of keeping his personality light like La Croix. It is the first episode he appears in so I’m sure there’s more to him that we’ll discover, but it’s hard to say he isn’t a little one-dimensional in this specific episode. Just an endearing goofball with no real depth beyond comic relief. Scorpia on the other hand seems to have more potential at least from the outset. She appears to have a more diverse personality but we don’t get to see too much of it here.

Now, it would be fair to say that I’m basing almost my entire judgement of this episode upon the shoulders of two very campy new characters, and that would be an accurate assessment. It’s important to note that the primary purpose of a show like this must always be entertainment. You need to be entertained to want to keep watching. That can either be done through a gripping plot, tension, character development, emotional investment, or just through goofy, hilarious hijinks. At Episode 5, we’re too early into the series for pretty much anything on that list except for the last one.

This has also cinched that little itch in my back for me about “not being quite sold on the series yet” - Up to this point, it had simply been a point of curiosity, but now I feel like I actively want to keep watching just to see how these characters develop and what happens to them as the story unfolds.

Score: 75

Passing Thoughts

“Go fish” says the fishy dude.