#there's four goats and one of them is absolutely vicious

[bitchybylershipper]

would any of you believe me if I said this dog was mean and barks at me every time he sees me

[waeziverse]

Royal Punch: The Gorgon and the Grindylow

There were roars of approval inside the Undersea Temptress tavern as a satyr and a dwarf were circling around each other in the ring, throwing hard jabs and murderous punches. The Temptress was one of those establishments where more vicious boxing matches were preferred over one between two skilled athletes.

It was the sixth round, and Ricco the Satyr was bleeding pretty badly from a gaping wound over his left eye. He drove a flurry of punches into Jasper the Dwarf’s face and body who then collapsed with his bearded face down on the canvas. Everyone in the tavern cheered as Ricco leaned against the ropes and lifted a glove that he waved at the crowd as blood still dripped from his face. Jasper had been helped up on a stool as his corner man poured water over his head.

Moammar the Minotaur were one of the creatures who was dissatisfied with the fight. “This fight was rigged! I want my money back!” The bull-man yelled angrily from his table as he hammered a fist at said table, almost hitting his mug. “No way would Jasper get his hairy behind handed to him in a fair fight!”

“I know, right?!” Moammar turned his head and saw a woman with light-green skin behind him. She looked as displeased as Moammar. She was wearing a black bandana and a pair of goggles. Her arms were bare so you could see that she had a tattoo of a sword and some snakes on her left arm. “Not to mention that Ricco is just a pretty boy!”

“See? You get it! Want a seat?” Moammar pointed at the empty chair at his table that the green woman took. “You are absolutely right, Ricco is just a pretty boy. There is no way Jasper would go down just because he got poked a little by that goat. You saw Jasper’s match last week against Adonis?”

“Dang right I did.” She lied, but she needed Moammar to keep talking.

And he did. He went on and on, and he did not notice that he no longer had a coin purse.

***

“Ha! Sucker.”

Sapphire the Gorgon took off her bandana, letting her snakes stretch out. The sixteen-year-old snake lady weighted the purse in her hand, satisfied with her tiny conquest. But she stopped smiling as her snakes hissed aggressively and hid their heads behind the back of her head.

That meant that Mister Slick, Saph’s... landlord, was nearby.

And he sure was. The old harpy had found her. He was wearing a slightly worn red kimono with room enough in the sleeves so his arms could turn from humanoid to wings when he pleased. His hair was snow white like his peacock tail that he dragged behind him. He looked at Saph with his big black eyes and exposed his piranha-like teeth as he smiled. “A word? Take a seat.” Slick pointed at one of two empty chairs near a table outside a tea shop. There was a cup with steaming tea, meaning Slick had been expecting her. Saph reluncently sat down, so did Slick who took a sip from his cup, then looked at the coin purse in Saph’s hand. “I see you are on your way to pay your rent to me, little serpent? How lucky I met you half-way home.”

Saph's grip on the purse got tighter. “Hey, I paid my rent already. I gave you that necklace with a rock the size of a racoon’s brain the other day, remember? It was probably worth at least four-hundred coronets!”

Mister Slick crossed his arms as he shook his head. “Sorry, little serpent. I just got it confirmed that the stone was mere painted glass. I trained you better than that, did I not? You never steal jewelry, it almost never pay off. I must say I’m disappointed in you, you are my best pick-pocketer.”

Saph scowled as her snakes hissed. “Glass my rear-end!”

Mister Slick waved a finger at her, like a teacher who talked to a misbehaving student. “Now, little serpent, be nice. I took you in when no one else would. I gave you shelter, and I still do. And I can easily find someone else who wants your bunk if you don’t hand me that little purse of yours.”

Saph wanted to take off her goggles, giving Mister Slick a glare... but then she sighed as she placed the purse on the table in front of the old harpy.

Mister Slick opened the purse, studied one of the coins and then took out a few that he placed them in front of Saph before he stood up. “I feel generous. Get yourself some lunch.” Slick then placed the purse in a pocket on the right side of his kimono as he turned his arms into wings and flew away.

Saph looked at the coins that in total had the value of twenty coronets. Then she glared at the old harpy who flew past a building. “Asshole...”

***

Saph sat on a wooden crate while eating a loaf of bread she had bought. The taste was kind of bland, but it filled up in the stomach. She had gone to the docks and watched fishermen leaving their boats carrying baskets filled with seafood. Saph knew that it was probably not that smart to look at all of these tasty fish, but she liked to think about what sort of meal she would get once she got a big enough share from Mister Slick.

Wondering if she preferred mackerel or tuna, Saph heard her snakes hiss in a way that was the signal that someone stood behind her. She reached for her left boot where she had hidden her knife, just in case. Then she turned her head to see who her snakes alerted her about. She looked up and saw a tall creature with dark-green skin. It was bald, had big pitch-black eyes, nostrils but no nose and a big tail. It sort of looked like a giant salamander. It appeared to be male, was wearing an apron... and most curiously, he had a black chalk board near his chest since it was attached to a piece of rope that was around his neck.

The creature had apparently been swimming recently since his skin and clothes were wet.

Saph narrowed her eyes. “What are you looking at, baldy?”

The creature grabbed his board and wrote on it with a white piece of chalk. He then showed Saph the board that now said: Y hungry?

Ruby blinked. “Excuse me?”

The creature grabbed his sack and took out a big salmon from it, holding it in front of Saph.

“I don’t want to buy your fish.” Saph took a bite from her loaf of bread.

The creature shook his head and kept holding it in front of the gorgon.

“Wait... Are you giving it to me? For... like, for free?”

The creature nodded and smiled.

“Ah... why would you just give it to me?”

The creature pointed at his sign again that said: Y hungry?

“Ah... Yes? Yes I am.”

The creature dropped the fish at Saph’s lap, giving her a shock and made her snakes hiss in each their direction. The creature then cleaned his board and wrote on it again. He showed the board to Saph once more, and it now said: Good reason to give y fish.

Saph looked at the fish, then at the creature. “This... this is some sort of scam!”

The creature shook its head, grabbed his sack with fish and left the gorgon who was completely baffled.

***

The next day was marked day at the docks, meaning the area would be packed. Perfect for pickpocketing. Saph were leaning up against a wall as she watched a minotaur with white fur and black spots set up her stand where she intended to sell octopus. But then her snakes made gentle licks at her left ear to tell her that someone she knew was approaching her. Saph looked to her left and saw the salamander guy from the other day. He waved at her.

“Ah, hi.” Saph crossed her arms. “It’s... you.”

The creature opened his mouth, then closed it. Then, it spoke. “I’m Iss-ma-el.” he said, or rather, he practically whispered.

Saph was confused. “I’m Sapphire. So, like... you can speak? What’s the point of that chalk board?”

Ishmael wrote on his board and then showed it to her. Still getting used to speak. Feels weird. He cleaned the board and wrote again. From sea where we talk with hand signs.

“Oh. So you are a sea monster or something?”

Im a grindylow.

“Then why are you... you know... on land?”

Ishmael snickered as he wrote. He made a silly grin as he showed her his sign. Exploring uncharted waters.

Saph smirked. “Ha... fricking... ha. Funny.”

Y liked the fish?

“Oh. Yeah, thanks.”

How did y cook it?

“Ah... on a frying pan?”

What else did y do?

“Ah... That’s it. I put it on a pan with some salt.”

Ishmael looked at her with disbelieve and shook his head as he wrote on the chalk board. Come with m. Make y proper meal.

Saph as well as all of her snakes glared at the sea man. “What is your deal? Why do you want to... feeding me?”

Ishmael wrote. Seen you eat here few times. He cleaned his board and wrote again. You eat plain food and you look hungry. He was about to write once more. But then he narrowed his eyes and and licked his lips as he spoke again, once more practically whispering. “Life... ish hard. Unfergevin. We shoo at last not starve. An... eat well when porsibal- no, mean possibal. Sorri.”

Saph’s snakes relaxed and lowered as she smiled. This guy was too good to be true. “You are kinda weird, Ishmael. You know that?”

Ishmael snickered as he wrote on his board. Guess Im fish out of water?

Saph laughed. “That joke is horrible!”

[newobsessioneveryweek]

Sleep

I had LOADS of fun writing this 10k masterpiece with @jinmukangwrites. She’s an amazing writer and if you haven’t heard of her I suggest you check out her blog.

Inspired by a post made on @linkeduniversetweets (asked by @toschiworlds) 

Brief spoiler-free summary: The Links spend a few days at Lon Lon Ranch during which Time manages to get himself concussed.

Enjoy

The Links had endured countless battles, vicious monsters, cascades of blood, and cold, unforgiving nights in the wilderness for several months but what laid before them offered the heroes a vital reprieve.

Blue skies and a gentle breeze greeted the Hero of Time when he climbed the small hill leading to his home in the early afternoon. The sun shone brightly upon him, almost unbearably warm, but a comforting feeling nonetheless. The smell of hay perfumed the air and left a lingering sweetness. But the sight of the woman that greeted him made the experience one hundred times sweeter. Time swung Malon once before leaning in and leaving a gentle kiss on her lips, relishing the bliss the reunion brought. The pair embraced and the remaining heroes either coed over the joyous moment or turned away to give the couple their privacy.

“I’ve missed you,” Time whispered into Malon’s shoulder. Malon could only barely stop herself from tearing up at her elation at hearing her husband’s voice.

“I missed you too,” she responded, her voice cracking slightly.

Lon Lon Ranch had become a haven for the travelling band of heroes and, though their job was far from finished, the Links felt that their abundant efforts could be rewarded with the few days they were able to spend in safety behind the walls of the ranch. But that luxury didn’t come without its small price.

***

“Chores!” Malon slammed a metal pail on the kitchen table, causing the Links who were having breakfast to jump in surprise. A beaming smile adorned her bright face as she looked around the room at each individual face.

Wild nearly dropped his sausage and Wind gasped the water he was drinking down the wrong pipe at the sudden raucous noise, causing him to cough excessively. “Who’s milking the cows and who’s feeding the cuccos,” Malon asked.

The Links around the table glanced at each other before quickly responding. “I’ll milk the cows,” They volunteered in unison. Malon laughed and took the bucket back. “If you can’t decide I’ll dish out the work myself. Wild, you can stay with me and wash dishes-”

“Lucky bastard,” Legend said.

“Language young man,” Malon chided. Legend immediately shut his mouth and listened. Malon tapped her chin before she turned to Legend. “Legend, you’re on cucco duty.”

“What? Why?”

“Because of that potty mouth of yours.” Beside Legend Warrior snickered. Malon huffed. “Alright Warrior, you can help him.”

“Oh, come on,” Warrior complained, which prompted a laugh from Legend in return.

“WInd, you can feed the pigs.”

“Yes,” Wind cheered. He liked the pigs.

“Twilight, you and Sky are on shovel duty,”

“What’s shovel- oh,” Sky then realised the odd job he’d been given and cringed.

“Yeah,” Twilight said.

“Hyrule and Four, hmm, you two are on milking duty with me.”

“Aw, yeah! I love milking duty,” Hyrule exclaimed.

“I don’t. The milk always gets on me,” Four grumbled.

“Well, maybe you should get a higher stool,” Legend joked.

Four stuck his tongue out at the remark and took the offered bucket from Malon once he cleared his plate.

“What about Time?”

“What about Time- I mean Link?”

“What’s his job?”

 “Oh! I sent him to fix up one of the stables in the old barn. We’re planning on breeding the horses so we need more space.”

 “Cool! Epona needs more friends,” Wind said excitedly. “Can I name the babies, please?” Wind practically begged her, and Malon easily granted his wish.

“Of course,” Malon said simply, smiling widely. “There’ll be plenty of names to give next time you happen to roll around our neck of the woods.”

***

“Let’s see,” Time muttered to himself as he took inventory of the tools on the shelf in front of him. “Wrench, saw. What’s that called again?” Time snapped his fingers, trying to remember the name of the strangle apparatus. “Gimlet,” he exclaimed. Time had long since finished his repair job, but he decided to make a list of their belongings while he was busy. He liked order and he knew Malon would appreciate the extra effort. Just knowing what you had made missing items easier to identify.

After he was done counting the hand tools he moved on to the gardening section of the barn where the heavier instruments were kept. Hoes and shovels, rakes and spades, pickaxes and regular axes hung neatly on hooks right above the Hero of Time, making it easy for him to see each individual item. “Okay, what do we have here?” Time took note of all the different items hung on the wall, jotting them down on his bulleted list as he went along the row.

“Alright, that seems to be- huh?” Time whirled around just in Time to see Epona barreling towards him at top speed. Her eyes held a spark of panic, she moved frantically as if trying to escape something. It all happened in a split second.

Epona charged, ramming straight into the startled hero and carrying him into the wall, causing the tools hung on the short, narrow hooks to fall on top of him. Epona whinnied in surprise and ran away from the scene, leaving the Hero of Time crumpled on the floor.

Time was faintly aware of the serious head wound he had sustained as a result of multiple sharp, heavy objects landing on his head. It took him approximately two seconds to realise how weak he felt and that if he moved his head even slightly overwhelming nausea would wash over him. His ears were ringing, his head ached and he felt absolutely helpless.

Sleepiness slowly began to creep upon him but Time fought the feeling with his entire being. He would spend his energy trying to avoid the inevitability of sleep. He had to fight it! If he didn’t… he would not be the same when he woke up.

In his stupor, he hadn’t realised the day’s coming to an end and so the feeble hero laid helpless on the floor of the old barn, desperately trying to stay awake. 

-o-o-o-o-

"This brings me back," Twilight said, shoving the shovel down in his hands for the dozenth time that evening. He dug the blade of the shovel under a particularly large pile of manure and lifted it so he can dump in an ever pulling wheelbarrow graciously provided by Malon.

Beside him, Sky grunted as he too worked a shovel into the ground. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and then continued. "This brings you back?" 

"Oh yeah. Growing up, I didn't have parents. I had to get money to fend for myself by doing odd jobs for the people of the village I lived in" Twilight explained, "one of those jobs was mucking up the fields. Didn't enjoy it at the time, but it was good and honest work for a child. Now that I'm older, I help out with herding and taking care of the animals. We have the younger kids cleaning the fields now."

"Odd jobs where I came from normally included carrying books," Sky said somewhat bitterly as he unloaded his shovel into the wheelbarrow, "or cleaning blackboards."

Twilight let out a chuckle and stuck his shovel into the ground, looking around the field to admire their work. Malon did a fantastic job with caring for the ranch herself, but she was probably overworked with her husband gone off on another adventure, and seeing her field all clean-looking filled Twilight's chest with pride. 

"So, what now?" Sky asked, looking at the pile of manure with a wrinkled nose. Twilight shrugged and grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow. 

"I'm sure Malon has a place for us to put this so we can let it decompose."

"Oh," Sky hummed. "How long does that take?"

Twilight shrugged. "Depends. We can see if Malon wants us to throw any unused crops in there to help the process, but, either way, it should be fine to use as fertilizer by the time fields are ready-"

"Wait, did you say fertilizer?" Sky squawked and Twilight grinned. 

"Oh yeah, city boy. Every farmer does it."

"U-uses poo to-"

"There you boys are," a new voice chimed in and Twilight turned to find Malon walking towards them, a smile on her face. "All done?"

"Yes ma'am," Twilight nodded while Sky stood there gaping. "Was just wanderin' where you wanted us to put this?"

"Oh, we have a spot for it by the mill, that way it doesn't stink up the house while it bakes," Malon said with a wink.

"I think I'm going to barf," Sky said, clutching his stomach and both Twilight and Malon burst into fits of laughter. "This isn't funny! I'm never going to be able to eat a vegetable ever again!" 

"Oh honey, wait until you hear what we feed the pigs," Malon joked, and Twilight would have laughed along as Sky cried out in horror, covering his ears, but a different sound met Twilight's ears that took every drop of his attention away. 

As a goat herder, there are sounds that he was trained to recognize. One of those was the sound of frantic, escaping hooves. 

He turned his eyes away from Malon who was punching Sky's shoulder jokingly and looked towards the sound, only to see a horse raging right towards them. 

Epona. 

Instinctively—ditching the wheelbarrow—he rushed away from Malon—who at this point had noticed the startled horse as well—and threw his hands up, calling out. She was barreling right towards them, ears pinned back in panic and mouth loudly panting, until she reared up and cried out right before she could run into him. 

Something scared Epona, if the way she remained agitated until Malon pushed her way through and began to sing a song, something scared her badly. 

"Is she okay?" Sky asked hesitantly. 

"I don't know," Malon said softly, rubbing Epona's mane with gentle movements. "What scared ya, girl?"

"If Epona is anything like my horse, nothing small," Twilight mused, he too joining in to stroke Epona's neck. 

"We should find the others," Sky mumbled, pulling out his sword. Twilight agreed with a nod and unsheathed his own, the joking and good mood a mere fading memory now.

"If you don't mind, ma'am," Twilight said and gave his most assuring smile towards Malon, "you should head inside. I'll take care of Epona."

Malon looked like she was about to argue but then her shoulders sagged. "Bring everyone back safe. I'm sure it's just a wild animal."

-o-o-o-o-

"That'a'gal," Twilight hummed, leading Epona closer towards the stable, one hand still with his sword. Epona seemed to have calmed down some, but he's still worried about her. What could scare a horse that has been through so much?

He sighed and took another step towards the stable, and then he was knocked painfully off his feet by something appearing out from the ground. He landed harshly on his back with a grunt, just managing to avoid biting his tongue, but the sound of Epona's loud neigh was enough to get him quickly back onto his feet. He's back on solid ground just in time to jump to the side to avoid a fleshy, slug-like body and it's sharp pincers. 

A leaver. An almost true constant between worlds. Annoying, fast, and persistent. However, they are normally found in the desert. 

Twilight would wonder why this leaver was here if it wasn't for the disgusting inky tone to its body. 

Infected. 

Twilight jumped into battle without another second to lose. He didn't even have time to regret sending Sky to the opposite side of the field to search for the others before the leaver burrowed its strong body into the ground. Epona stomped the dirt with her hooves, whinnying loudly and angrily and he understood why she was so startled now. Any horse would be startled by something popping up from below them. 

A section of ground popped up a bit and Twilight was on it in a heartbeat, jumping forward and sending his sword down. He could hear an agonized gurgle come from the creature but it wasn't done yet. It shifted and pushed forward, knocking him back. He lost grip of his sword and with a startled yell he was once again on his back. He just barely had enough time to look up for the creature but didn't have any more to spend on defending himself when it raced toward him. 

Then, four raging hooves stomped on it and kept stomping on it until it was a gross pile of mush. 

Twilight relaxed against the ground, forcing his heart to calm down. 

Well, that happened. 

He shoved himself once again to his feet and grabbed his sword, glaring at the creature now turned pudding. Epona didn't look like she'd calm down again anytime soon if the way she was huffing and snarling and stomping her feet indicated anything. So, he decided he'd let her be and go inside the stable, remembering that the old man should be in there. He could calm her down better.

He walked towards the door, gave a small knock, and opened it. "Hey, Time?" He called, the smell of horse meeting his nose. There was no answer, so he went all the way in, eyebrows furrowed by the silence. 

Then, a groan. 

He turned his neck, and his blood froze. "Oh Hylia. Time!'

Time laid miserably on his spot on the floor, tools strewn on and around him. Twilight sprinted towards his mentor, desperate to see what had caused the strong hero to look so vulnerable. Upon closer inspection, Twilight noticed the blood coating Time’s hair and face. “Goddesses, Time what happened to you?”

Time could only reach up and touch his forehead, wincing at the pain the simple action brought on.

Twilight was quick to sling Time’s arm around his shoulder but couldn’t manage to haul him up. If only the hero had removed his armour he would have been easier to lift. “Holy Hylia, Time, you weigh a ton.” Twilight sighed. “Okay, I’m going to get help. I’ll be right back.” Twilight ran as quickly as he could from the stable as Time groaned again and slumped back against the wall. It wasn’t long before he ran into Warrior and Legend who were busy tending the cucoos.

“Always remember,” Legend said beside Warrior who was holding a bag of feed at arm’s length, a cucoo standing innocently in front of him. “They can smell fear.”

“I’ve fought cucoo wars, my friend,” Warrior said eliciting a snicker from Legend, “I am not afraid of feeding these little punks.” As if on cue the cucoo crowed and Warrior visibly startled. Legend began cackling at his side, doubling over at the hilarity. “Shut up. I just got a fright.”

“Guys,” Twilight called, catching the pair’s attention. They turned to Twilight, seeing the weary look in his eyes.

“What’s wrong,” Warrior asked, concern in his voice.

“Time’s hurt. I can’t carry him alone. I need your help to take him to the house.”

“Say no more. I’ll come with you.” Warrior stepped over the fence keeping the cucoos and joined Twilight’s side.

“Me too,” Legend said, making his way over when Twilight stopped him.

“No, Legend. I need you to tell Malon what happened. She should be in the house.”

“O-okay. I’m on it.” Legend dashed off to the house and while Warrior and Twilight made their way hastily to the barn.

“How bad is it,” Warrior huffed as they ran across the field.

“I don’t know. He was pretty out of it when I got there but I hope he’s doing okay. He might have a concussion.”

Warrior hummed in thought. “What exactly happened?“

“I don’t know, but by the looks of it, some tools fell on top of him. He was lying under a bunch of gardening equipment.”

“Shit,” Warrior cursed. “I think you might be right about that concussion. How did that even happen?”

“I don’t know. He can tell us when we get him inside.”

They came to a stop in front of the red and white wooden building and pushed open the large wide doors.

“Old man,” Warrior called, peering inside, “You okay?”

Time was still on the floor, covered in blood and moaning. His eyes were glazed over but they held a note of fear behind them.

“Time, we’re going to help you. We just need to-” Twilight began as he knelt next to the man and slung his arm over his shoulder for the second time when he was interrupted by a sudden outcry.

“Get away from me,” Time yelled as loudly as he could in the state he was in. Twilight startled at his mentor’s harsh words, but he continued to lift him with Warrior’s help. “No, NO! Leave me,” Time continued to shout, fighting to free himself from Twilight and Warrior’s firm grip.

“Time, calm down, we’re just trying to take you home-”

“No, please,” Twilight spared a glance at the old man and his heart sank. Was Time crying? “Not again. I beg of you.”

“Time,” Twilight said gently, “It’s going to be fine.”

Just then Legend burst through the door. He doubled over, breathing heavily. “Fuck,” more breathing, “Okay,” he straightened and looked at the trio, Time’s teary-eyed visage and blood-soaked hair catching his notice above everything else. “Goddesses, Time, what happened?”

“We don’t know, but we need your help getting him to the house.”

Legend needed no more instruction and jogged over to help Twilight and Warrior carry the injured man. He took hold of Time’s legs but got kicked in the face for his efforts. “Ow! What-”

“Let go of me!” Time was frantic. He began kicking and flailing his arms to try and get away, but his efforts were weak despite his dedication.

“Time, we need you to cooperate,” Warrior scolded. “Malon’s probably worried sick.” Legend tried again to take hold of Time’s legs, but Time wouldn’t relent. He kept thrashing. “Time please-”

Time began wailing out of nowhere. He stopped fighting and fell to his knees, escaping from their grips but making no move to run. “I can’t. Don’t take me back there. The sacred realm,” Time sobbed, “I don’t want to go back.” Twilight froze. The sacred realm? Time had been there? Could that mean he was imprisoned with Ganondorf? And if that was the case, could that be why Time had been fighting them so relentlessly only a moment ago? Maybe his head wound was more serious than Twilight originally thought if Time was freaking out about events from that long ago. Twilight moved to pick him up again and this time his mentor didn’t flinch, probably having spent all of his energy trying to keep them away.

Soon the three heroes managed to get Time to the house without too much trouble. But the whole scene was still on Twilight’s mind. Why did Time think that they were going to take him to the sacred realm? What had traumatised the hero so much that he showed such vulnerability; such helplessness, and fear?

Before Twilight could ponder any longer Malon rushed to help her husband. She shouldered the weight Warrior had been carrying and they both managed to nearly drag Time upstairs to bed. All the while Time muttered words of protest, though he was unable to fight back effectively.

 He seemed so lifeless. Boneless even. So unlike himself that it had Twilight swallowing something stuck in his throat. Something that felt like a seed of panic. Yet he knew he couldn't panic, not yet, because if he turned around he'd see the others looking at him, looking for some sort of direction, something to do. 

Twilight didn't have anything for them to do. He barely knew what to do himself. 

So he swallowed that seed and turned, keeping his face as neutral as he could manage, and looked at each hero in the eye. Legend, of course, was there, but until now Twilight hadn't noticed Wild and Four were there as well. Sky must have still been looking for the others.

Well, he supposed there was something to do. 

"Head out, find the others, and bring your swords," he said calmly, a stark difference from what he was actually feeling. "I ran into an infected Leaver out there. They travel in packs, there could be more."

"Alright," Wild mumbled, grabbing his sword and walking out the door even though Twilight didn't think Wild knew what a leaver was. Legend shared a look with Twilight before nodding and running out to follow the champion.

"I'll go check on the traveler," Four said, "he's cleaning up the cow pen. The pig parlor is near there too, so I'll see if Wind is still there." And then he was out the door.

Then, Twilight was alone, looking at the empty house and feeling almost… lost on what to do. He supposed he could head out and search for Sky, but his feet didn't seem to want to move from their spot. 

Then, the sound of creaking floorboards made themselves known behind Twilight. He turned around to see Warrior standing there.

Warrior gave Twilight a small smile and Twilight found himself smiling a tad bit back. Worry was a knot in his chest, but he was sure with the help of the others, this would just be a bump in the road. 

"While they're finding the others," Warrior offered, "you and I can check the perimeter for more monsters."

Twilight was about to respond that it sounded like a plan, but then Malon made her appearance as well. "Actually, I need one of you boys to help me a little more," she said softly. Twilight glanced at Warrior and he shrugged, fixing his scarf around his neck so it wrapped a little around his chin. 

"Why don't you help the lady," Warrior said, "I want to see these leavers for myself."

Twilight nodded, making a mental note to thank Warrior later, and then turned towards Malon as the other hero took his leave. Malon gave him a kind look before she stepped forward and brushed her finger across his cheek. "Look at you," she said, "you need a hose down more than the pigs."

Twilight released a breath and stepped away, folding his arms across his chest. "How is he?"

A grimace passed over Malon's features. "Tired. Confused. Scared. Nothing I haven't tackled before."

Twilight knew nightmares were not exclusive. Anyone could have them. Someone with a perfect life. Someone who've seen more war-torn days that simple days. Nightmares crept up on the cowardly. Pounced on the brave. It shouldn't surprise him that things like this had happened to Time before. 

"Thankfully, he's keeping himself awake," Malon continued, beginning to head towards the front door. Twilight quickly followed along. "I don't know if he's conscious enough to purposely keep himself awake, or if… if he's subconsciously doing it. But either way, it gives us time to find help."

She walked out of the house with Twilight at her heels, and eventually, she stopped by a small garden of berry bushes. She worked her way past them and revealed a small birdbath.

Well, a fairy bath actually. 

"Drat," Malon cussed, "there's only one."

"You collect them?"

"You boys and your collecting," Malon mumbled, walking forward to where a small ball of light hovered over the water in the bowl, dropping every so often to perhaps take a sip. "We're looking for one." She reached forward and gently cupped the fairy in her hands, mumbling a soft plea for help that they both knew the fairy would oblige without a single hesitation. 

"Navi," Twilight whispered in reverence. Malon slowly pulled her hands to her chest, the fairie's light glowing through her fingers. 

"How… how much do you know about my husband?" She asked.

Twilight swallowed. "Um, more than the others. B-but less than you, I'm sure."

She shook her head and began to head back to the house. "There's not a single thing I don't know about him. Do you know about the true nature of his adventures? Why he had been given the title of Hero of Time?" 

"I, uh," Twilight stumbled, placing his hand on the back of his neck and rubbing sheepishly. "Not really. I know he… traveled a few times. Back and forth into the future and the past."

"That doesn't just happen you know," Malon said as they walked back into the house. They stopped right in front of the master bedroom and she sighed, looking older than what he had ever seen her before. "He tells me that when he was a boy, he went to obtain a sacred sword. But his body… was too young and weak to wield a sword like that. Against his will and knowledge, he was locked away in the sacred realm… for seven years, only to wake up in a body that was older than his mind. To a world torn apart by power.

"He… he tells me he does not remember those years locked away, but sometimes he wakes up screaming to let him go. Let him leave. That he's afraid and he doesn't want to be there anymore. I think… I think the memories of that place are somewhere in his head, and when he's asleep or things like this happen, they're unlocked."

Twilight nodded somberly in sympathy for Time’s circumstances. Time had endured much more than any normal Hylian could even fathom, though Malon seemed uninterested in Time’s heroics and more in tune with the man he was inside. She would know what to say to snap him out of his state of anxiety. If anyone could bring him back to reality it was her.

The door creaked loudly as Malon opened it hesitantly. She tiptoed over to the bed on which Time was lying with his back against the headboard. His head faced the window across the bed. He kept muttering unintelligibly under his breath, his eyes would dart across the room, and he would jump at the slightest noise. The hero turned his head at their approaching footsteps.

“Dear,” Malon said, causing her husband to turn towards her completely. He looked exhausted as if he’d pass out any second, but they couldn’t risk him falling into any terrible consequences of a concussion. Time smiled at her, and, for the first time since the incident, he looked as if he felt truly safe. “I brought something that might help you.” Malon released the fairy from her hands, watching it whisk away and flutter over Time’s shaking form. Almost instantly he relaxed, though slightly. His pupils contracted, the dazed look in his eyes faded and he stopped shaking. He stopped muttering to himself and looked up at Twilight who had made his way over to the bed. Time, for the briefest moment, looked as if he recognised Twilight before he shot up and scooted back on the bed, shouting, “No!” and “Get away from me!”

“Not again, NOT AGAIN!”

“Link, sweetheart, it’s just Twilight,” Malon said, reaching out and trying to placate him. “Please, try to remember. He’s not going to take you back. I-I promise,” Malon choked out. Tears pricked at her eyes as she watched her husband agonise over the cruelty that had been done to him as a child. She didn’t think she could bear to see him crumble under the weight of all his years of torture and vulnerability.

Time saw this- her tears- and stopped. He drew closer to her and placed a rough but gentle hand on her cheek.

“Twilight, will you just-” she paused and took a calm, shaky breath, looking deeply into Time’s scared eyes. “Will you please give me a moment?”

Twilight respectfully nodded and left the room. He heard voices coming from the kitchen and made his way there to find that all of the Links had returned. They all wore worried expression, presumably having all heard the news about Time’s accident.

Twilight cleared his throat and addressed the room at their expectant glances. “He’ll be alright,” he said simply.

“Alright? That’s it? No ‘he’s responding to treatment’, or ‘we know how to heal him’?” Four asked bluntly

“What kind of treatment, dumbass? We have no potions, no fairies, and no doctor,” Legend declared, flailing his arms wildly. “And how are we supposed to know how to heal him if we don’t know what’s wrong?”

“We actually had one fairy,” Twilight answered, “and we might know what’s wrong with him.”

All heads turned to Twilight at the new information. “Well? Spill it. How do we fix him,” Legend demanded, tapping his foot impatiently. He tried to look nonchalant but the look in his eyes betrayed his concern.

“He might have sustained a serious concussion, but, with the fairy, we were able to lessen the injury, but we’ll still need to take shifts waking him up. We have to make sure he doesn’t bear any permanent damage.”

The group fell silent after that, worry casting its dark cloud over them. Twilight shifted and played with his fingers, revealing his nerves.

“There’s something you’re not telling us,” WIld pointed out suddenly, catching the group’s attention. Twilight paused. Even though he knew it was necessary to tell them and they would find out even without his help, he didn’t want to spread worry over a handleable situation. Despite these thoughts, he decided he needed to tell them the truth.

“There is… one problem. I don’t think the old man remembers any of us or trusts us. And more than that it seems like he’s trying to keep himself awake because of some past trauma.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it,” WInd asked hopefully.

“Not exactly. Concussed patients need sleep. They just can’t be asleep for too long periods at a time.”

“That’s sure to make things difficult, but it’s just a small setback. We can still get him to sleep and help him remember us,” Sky added cheerfully.

The rest of the Links didn’t look so sure, but they didn’t argue with Sky either. His optimism was welcome in their time of panic. They were willing to give anything a shot if it meant helping their friend.

“I think it’s best if we take shifts. Too many people at once will just overwhelm him.

“If that’s the case I’ll take the first shift,” said Warrior, standing. “I mean, we were pretty close. Maybe there’s a chance he’ll remember me.”

Twilight thought about that. Of course, there was a chance, but if the old man didn’t even remember Twilight he didn’t think he’d remember Warrior, even if they were close. “Okay, go for it,” Twilight said wearily.

Warrior nodded and left for Time and Malon’s room, leaving the rest to ponder the endless possibilities that might come of this.

"Oh good, you all have a plan," Molon said, walking into the room with the other Links'. She gave them a tired yet enthusiastic smile. " That means I can trust you all to hold down the fort while I head to Castle Town."

"Alone?" Sky asked, only to hiss out in pain when Wind elbowed him in the side.

"She can handle herself," Wind warned but Malon just chuckled good-naturedly. 

"I appreciate the concern, sky child, but it's just to the castle. My husband needs more medicine and the sun is still up for a little while longer. I'll be back by morning, just keep waking him up every so often to make sure he's not getting worse," she said, tugging a shawl around her shoulders.

"If you wish for one of us to accompany you," Wild offered smally, "I'd be happy to tag along."

Really, Twilight would almost like for Wild to join Malon. He looked out of his element, and he probably felt like the last one capable to help someone with memory loss and confusion. But Malon simply shook her head and walked up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and smiling kindly at him. "Thank you for offering, but I'll be fine. My husband needs you all. You're all very important to him. Besides, I won't be alone, I'll have Epona with me."

"You're important to him too," Hyrule said quietly. 

Malon just beamed at him before she walked over to the door. "I'll be back by morning. Earlier if the gates don't lock me in. Take care!"

"Good luck," seven voices all chimed in. Then, Malon was gone, and the boys were all left to their own devices. 

And there weren't a whole lot of devices, so Twilight took a page from Time and Malon's book and set the boys to work. Wild returned to the kitchen, finishing up dinner while Legend and Hyrule went to clean up and prepare the guest room. To Sky, he assigned sweeping the floors and Four and Wild worked together to dust various cabinets. All the while, the door to the master bedroom remained silent, a boding forewarning of what the future had to bring. 

-o-o-o-o-

His head hurt. That was the simple truth of everything. His head hurt. Enough so that he would be quite content doing nothing. He was pretty sure he was asleep, but he couldn't really recall why. If he tried to remember, then the headache would just grow and he would rather it went away. 

Unfortunately for him, he had little choice in many things, one of those things was the over creeping sense of wakefulness forcing himself to become aware of his body, the sounds around him, and the gross taste lingering in his mouth. Something on his shoulder.

He would have preferred to keep his eyes shut, but they opened anyway, bringing a sharp ping of pain through his skull.

Blinking, he looked ahead of him, only to find a wooden ceiling above his head and not much else. He moaned as his headache smarted, but he quickly stilled as he realized that the pressure on his shoulder that he felt earlier was still there. 

He turned his head and his eyes widened. There was a man in the room with him, leaning towards him from a wooden chair set next to the bed, arm stretched out and hand resting on him. Face screwed up with concern.

“Hey, old man, you up?”

Instantly, panic washed over him.

He jerked away from the man, slamming his hands next to his side to perhaps find a weapon. “Get away,” he snarled and the man snapped back as if stung. It was now that he realized that he didn’t know where he was. There was a small inkling at the back of his head that promised that he might have been here, but the hysteria from waking up with a stranger next to him was blurring his vision, making it even harder to concentrate when combined with his aching head. 

“Time, it’s me,” the man said, his voice stern but a little rushed like he was nervous, and that certainly did nothing to make Link trust him any more than what he initially did. “Captain?”

“Where am I?” Link snarled, his voice sounding wrong in his own throat. He tried to shift up in the bed he was lying in, but his body felt wrong and the hurt in his head was traveling down his spine with the movement. A flash of familiarity ricocheted across his skull and he couldn’t help but whimper at it. He had felt like this before. Like his body was wrong and everything was different and wrong and that only made him want to panic more.

Yet everything hurt, he could hardly even think about moving without some sort of pain. He could just lie there and struggle to make sense of what’s going on, hoping his muddled mind would clear.

“You’re at your home,” the man (captain?) said slowly, making an effort to raise his hands and show he was weaponless. Not that Link believed him for a second. People can be crafty when they want to be. “What do you remember?”

“I-” Link swallowed, trying to grasp onto anything that was more clear than the rapid beating of his heart. He was so confused, and scared, and lost, and what was the last thing he remembered? He can hardly remember a single thing. Then, something calming washed over him with the soothing voice of a woman singing softly in his hair, her soft hands running through his hair. 

Safe, she said, you’re safe my love.

And just like that, her face appeared in his mind’s eye, and he was overcome with comfort and safety and finally, his heart calmed just a bit. He didn’t remember these walls, but he recognizes them now.

Home, they say. Safe.

He looked at the man again, trying to see him in a different light, try to puzzle together something he’s missing most the pieces to. 

A name flashed across the tip of his tongue, and he spoke it before he could question it. “You’re Link,” he said softly.

The man smiled and relaxed ever so slightly, and Link can feel the energy inside of him whither as well. He can barely keep his eyes open anymore, the adrenaline fading like a wistful song. “I’m Link too,” the man said kindly.

“Oh,” was all Link could say to that. His eyes are heavy now, almost like something unseen was wrapping itself around him, trying to drag him back into unconsciousness, and he almost fell into it if it weren’t for the hand replacing itself back onto his shoulder. 

“Hey, not yet, old man,” the other Link said. “We have to keep you awake just a bit longer, just to make sure your memory loss isn’t the only damage the concussion did.”

“Concussion…?”

The man simply nodded with a gentle, reassuring smile plastered on his face. “Yeah, you wouldn’t remember that. We found you out in the barn. You were lying under a bunch of gardening equipment with blood running from a wound on your head. Malon, your wife,” Link confirmed, “patched you up with a fairy-”

“Fairy,” Time interrupted, a flash of hope sparking in his eyes. “Navi?”

The other Link’s face fell as he shook his head. “No, old man. I’m sorry.” The pair were silent for a minute. Link kept his gaze on the floor as if it was more interesting than their conversation. The man ran a hand down his face before he spoke again. “Even though your wound is healed the effects are still there. You’ll be out of commission for a couple of days so don’t even think about getting out of bed.”

Link didn’t argue. He felt positively shitty to put it lightly. His head felt like a blacksmith’s anvil… blacksmith… somehow that word felt important as if it stirred the fog enshrouding his mind, trying to reveal a secret that would rather stay hidden. He grasped at it, but it evaded him.

Then a thought occurred to him out of the blue.

Link stared blankly at the man and blinked.

“What,” the other Link asked.

“Why are you in my house?” The question came out of nowhere, unprompted by anything, and yet, this was his house? Why was this man here?

The man blanched. “I’m sorry, what?”

“This is my house, is it not? I remember… that I know who you are, but why are you here? Does my wife know? Are there others? When did you even find me?”

“We found you earlier today and, yeah, there are others Twilight was here-”

“Twilight,” Link said slowly. “Yes, he was in here.“

“He’s one of us,” the other said. He paused as if realising something. “Do you remember him?”

Link shook his head. “No, I- I thought… I didn’t trust him. I thought he was going to take me back. I sense his magic... He can’t be trusted.” Link spoke frantically, trying to get his nerves across so the other Link would listen. He couldn’t go back to that place, no, he wouldn’t!

“Time, nobody here is going to hurt you. We’re your friends.” The man said then he sighed. “Malon left to get you some medicine,” he said and Link wanted to panic, but he could tell that the other was sure of his words, that Link wouldn’t be hurt. “In the meantime, I’m just going to ask you a few questions to make sure you’re doing okay.”

“All right.” Link did not feel fine, but he guessed that the other man meant something else.

The man cleared his throat before he began. “Are you feeling particularly irritable at the moment?”

Link quirked an eyebrow. “What sort of question is that?”

“Just answer me,” the man said, eliciting a small giggle from Link.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said, coming out of his laughter. He still wasn’t sure of this man’s intentions, but a vague recollection at the back of his mind told him that he was familiar and therefore trustworthy.

“Good. Now, tell me everything you remember starting from when you met me.”

Odd question, Link thought. “Okay, I remember… I remember this-this portal of sorts.” Link tried to bring up the memories from his foggy mind and managed to recount his meeting with the man in front of him.

“We walked through another portal and,” Link gasped. He froze as the next memory came to him. “We were in the sky, on a floating island.” His eyes were wide. It was as if he was experiencing something supernatural, but, somehow, all of this felt like he was eating seconds from the same dish. “How is that possible.”

“Keep going,” the man cajoled.

“I remember we met someone, someone who always wore some sort of cape. It was mostly white- Link! His name was also Link.”

The man nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, keep going.”

Link’s face scrunched up as he thought, but every card he drew after that was blank. “That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. Also, why are all our names Link?”

“We share the name of the hero’s spirit. You remember that much, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Link replied slowly.

“Okay, moving on,” the other Link said, waving his hand in the air. “What are your symptoms.”

***

Twilight was biting his nails. He couldn’t shake the thought of having Time distrust him so much that he perceived him as a threat.

Twilight paced back and forth across the kitchen as Wild finished up supper. “Your fingernails are down to stubs. If you go any further you’ll bleed,” Wild cautioned, sparing a glance at his mentor from his spot at the counter.

“What if he doesn’t remember any of us Wild? What if he sees us as dangerous? We can’t defeat Dark Link without him.” Twilight felt utterly defeated, but he wouldn’t let the others know that. He needed to be strong, but it was so much more difficult being a leader than Time made it out to be. The whole facade that he put up in front of the others was starting to crumble with every minute Time was struggling to remember.

“Twi, just be patient. He’ll come to his senses soon enough. In the meantime, you just need to put a little faith in him. Help him remember.”

Twilight took a deep breath. “You’re right. This isn’t going to fix itself.”

Twilight heard footsteps descending the stairs and swiftly turned around to see Warrior making his way toward them. “I have good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?”

“What’s the bad news,” Wild asked instead of Twilight.

“The bad news: Time doesn’t remember you,” Warrior said, addressing Twilight.

Twilight groaned. Of course, he knew as much, but he was hoping Warrior could get a different result despite his doubts. “What’s the good news then?”

“He remembers me and Sky. Meaning I was able to get him to trust that the rest of you won’t hurt him. He’s willing to speak to you. Also, there doesn't seem to be any  long-lasting side effects.”

Twilight released a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. It was a start, Time was willing to see him. If there was any chance of Twilight getting Time to recover, he’d take it. “Alright. I’ll go talk to him.” Twilight rushed forward but he was stopped as Warrior put a hand out in front of him, keeping him in place.

“Ah ah ah, not yet. Time’s resting. You should wake him up in about two hours to check if he’s okay. Do. Not. Force it. If he doesn’t remember you, it’s okay. Be patient.”

Twilight nodded sadly. He didn’t want to wait, but, for Time’s safety, he supposed he had no choice. “Thanks, Warrior.”

Warrior flashed Twilight a warm, reassuring smile before he turned to Wild. “I’m absolutely famished.”

“Well and grand. Supper is just about done. Mind setting up the table?”

“Sure.” Warrior set off to find the crockery and cutlery and Twilight stood, staring out the window, into the distance. “Something on your mind?” Wild inquired.

“What isn’t on my mind?”

“Fair. Go take a seat. I’ll save Time a plate.”

Twilight grudgingly obeyed and took a seat at the dining table. He folded his arms and rested his head on them. It had been a rough day for everyone and the fact that Time remembered Warrior and not him made him feel just a tad jealous.

The others had arrived and conversations were going over their meal, but Twilight was part of them. His focus was drawn to their most pressing issue and, as a result, he felt perpetually stressed.

Twilight didn’t notice Wild come up to him when everyone had left the table. “It’s been two hours-”

Twilight didn’t even let Wild finish his sentence before he sprang out of his chair and dashed to the stairs.

“Wait,” Wild called. “Take this.” In Wild’s hands was a plate of food. Twilight took the offered food with a knife and fork. “He might be hungry when he wakes up.”

“Thanks.” Twilight gave a wan smile and headed up to the master bedroom.

Once Twilight reached the door he knocked before he could think better of it. Twilight facepalmed. “Dammit, Link. Of course, he’s not going to answer the door.” But Twilight gave a surprised yelp when his mentor swung the door open. “Y-you’re supposed to be in bed,” Twilight chided.

Time looked, in every sense of the word, like a crook caught in the lamplight. His eyes were round and surprised and he simply stood there, staring at Twilight like he didn't quite know what to do next. 

"But I suppose that's a good sign, isn't it?" Twilight asked nervously, uncomfortable under the elder man's stare. "You waking up yourself? I don't really know the fine details of concussions but-"

He's cut off as the door is suddenly slammed shut and he's left of the other side gaping, the plate of food left uselessly in his hand. 

It took him a moment to find his voice. He reached up and knocked again. "Old man? It's me, Twilight, I just came to check up on you and give you some dinner!"

There's no answer and a spark of annoyance ignited in Twilight's chest. 

"I'm not going to hurt you," he called, knocking again, "I'm your friend. Warrior said you remembered him and Sky; I'm their friend too!" 

"Go away, please!" Time suddenly called on the other side of the door. 

Twilight rolled his eyes. "Sorry, buddy, can't do that. We have to make sure you're doing alright. The sun is setting and I don't think Malon will be back until morning, so you have to work with us for a little while longer." He reached forward and placed his hand on the doorknob, feeling a little like he's about to breach his mentor's privacy, but at the same time his mentor is acting very childish and Twilight can't just leave him be. 

The doorknob jiggled but did not open. Twilight scowled and huffed. "Very mature," he said, "unlock the door. Look, I know you're very hard-headed, but you have to let us help you. You have to let somebody in."

"Send someone else!" Time called. 

And that blow was almost physical. 

It definitely had him stumbling back like it. 

Deep breaths Twi. Deep breaths. "Look! I don't know why you don't like me all of a sudden, but I mean nothing but goodwill! Plus, Warrior said that you'd be willing to talk with me?"

"... I changed my mind."

"Old man," Twilight said in exasperation. "Time. Open the door." He jiggled the doorknob. "C'mon, I'm not going to bite you or whatever. Time! Please?" 

Nothing. 

Twilight had to step away to restrain himself from kicking the door down. 

"Fine! You win! But you will let someone in!"

He turned with a huff and walked back to the kitchen where the others were helping Wild clean up the kitchen but they all stopped when he entered the area, food going cold on the plate in his hand and face probably red. 

"That didn't take long," Hyrule said slowly. "Is he alright?" 

Twilight huffed and strides over to the younger hero, shoving the plate in his hands and then storming towards the front door. "He won't talk to me. It's your turn."

And then he was out the door before anyone could say a single thing. He stood in the cool evening air for a few seconds, panting like a wolfos. 

If Time wanted to act like a child, then that's fine by him. He took off walking, nowhere in particular, just in a random direction. He was sure though, that if anyone looked at him through the windows of the ranch, they'd see steam coming from his ears. 

-o-o-o-o-

Hyrule could only stand there a little dumbfounded by what had happened. It seemed Twilight’s behavior was a shock to the rest of them too because it took a good few beats of silence bore someone cleared their throat and attempted to make some semblance of a plan. 

“Hyrule… do you want to give Time his food?”

Hyrule looked at Legend, the one who had spoken, feeling like he was a trapped animal. There’s no way Time would react friendly with Hyrule. Not if he didn’t with Twilight. Hyrule barely even knew the guy. He respected him sure but it wasn’t like they had any kind of relationship or anything. 

His internal panic must have shown on his face because Sky gave a kind smile. “How about,” he said, taking the plate from Hyrule’s hands and setting it down on the kitchen table. “You invite him down to eat.”

“I don’t think he can handle a large company, Sky,” Warrior said, “he’s probably very tired still.”

“I think that for whatever reason he can’t handle our rancher’s company,” Sky retorted and everyone silenced. “And while Twilight is out blowing steam we can get him down here to talk to us as a group.”

Warrior bit his lip in thought before he sighed. “I see your logic. But we mustn't crowd him.”

“Maybe we can help him remember Twilight,” Wind offered.

“So by the time Twilight comes back, everything will be fine again,” Wild put in as well.

“Fine,” Warrior muttered, throwing his hands in the air. “Fine. But if we break him more, I won't take the fall with you all when Malon decides our lives are forfeit.”

It was meant to be a joke, but if the way the entire group stilled and became somber was an indication of anything, it certainly fell flat.

“Hyrule?” Four suddenly asked and Hyrule almost jumped a foot in the air, not expecting to be addressed.

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to get the old man?”

Heat flooded his face. “Y-yeah.”

He left the room before he could make a bigger fool of himself and practically scrambled up the stairs. He wondered what made Twilight so irritable. Did Time say something rude? And why was Time so insistent about not wanting to talk to Twilight? He wished he knew, that way he’d be more prepared with Time inevitably shut him down too. 

There was no way this would work, and he chanted it in his head like a mantra until he worked up the courage to knock on the door. There was silence for a few solid seconds, and then a voice called out in a more awake tone than what he had been expecting.

“Who is it?” 

Hyrule swallowed. “Um, Hyrule. Um- well, not Hyrule Hyrule. I- I’m the hero of Hyrule? So that’s what everyone calls me. It gets confusing sometimes and-”

The door was suddenly opened and he shut his jaw with a click.

Time stood there on the other side of the doorway, his single eye critically narrowed, almost like he was looking into Hyrule’s very soul. Hyrule squirmed under the gaze, but whatever Time was looking for seemed to be found because he stepped slowly out of the way to invite Hyrule in. Hyrule swallowed and stepped back. “Actually, we were wondering if you felt well enough to join us downstairs for some dinner?”

Time stilled and then he sighed. “I’m… not sure that is a good idea.”

“Twilight isn’t there,” Hyrule rushed out and Time’s eyebrows rose in slight surprise. “He went out. For a run or something, I think. The other’s all want to talk to you.”

Time remained silent for a second before he released a breath. “Did I hurt his feelings?”

“Who? Twilight?”

Time nodded and Hyrule swallowed. “Oh. Um. He’ll be fine.”

“I… I don’t recognize anyone, but each of you gives me a… sense of peace and safety. But Twilight… I don’t know why but I can’t bring myself to open up to him. I know I care about him, I can feel it in my bones that I care for each of you, but I… I can’t talk to him right now. I just hope I didn’t hurt his feelings.”

“I… yeah, he’ll get over it,” Hyrule repeated because he didn’t quite know what else to say. “He’s… strong. And whatever is off about him that you don’t like I’m sure will all make sense when you’re better.”

“When I’m better.”

“Yeah… so do you want to come down and eat or should I bring food up-”

“I’ll… come down. I feel trapped in this room, and some kind faces I think will help me feel better.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Hyrule stood there awkwardly as Time practically shuffled out of the doorway, his eyebrows drawn together with a tightness that could only be described as pain. His head must still be bothering him. Hyrule swallowed and took a step forward, ducking under one of his arms and grabbing onto Time’s side. Time made a thankful hum and wrapped his arm around Hyrule’s shoulders. 

“What is for dinner?” Time asked as Hyrule helped him down the first step. Hyrule grunted with his weight but was thankfully able to keep his balance for a few more steps. 

“Wild made Hearty Salmon Meuniere. It’s really good,” Hyrule grunted. 

They finally made it down onto the first floor and Hyrule almost bent over gasping, but he was stopped when Time squeezed his shoulder. 

“I don’t remember who you are,” Time mumbled, “but I have the sense that you’ve been through much. You are incredibly brave, little one.”

Hyrule swallowed, not really prepared for a revelation like that. “Everyone here is brave. You’ll see that I’m at the bottom of the ladder. It’s you who everyone looks up to. Everyone is taking this memory loss hard. Especially Twilight. I… I appreciate it though.”

“If the me without memories can tell how courageous you are, I’m sure the me with memories thinks even higher of you.”

Hyrule almost choked on his spit as his ears began to feel like they were on fire. 

“L-lets go. I’m sure the others all want to see you.”

-o-o-o-o-

The other’s all consisted of seven young men who for the life of him Link… or Time could not remember. He knew the faces. After they tell him their names he’s almost hitting his head against the wall in anger because how could he have possibly forgotten these young men?

Wind was a charming lad, and he gave Time the sense or recklessness and adventure. Curiosity. He smiled the widest when Time entered the room and talked the most like it wasn’t awkward at all. Time appreciated his energy. His kindness. It reminded him almost of himself before… before everything. Except, this young man somehow managed to keep that innocent part of him alive after his adventure. 

Legend was much on the opposite side of the scale. He can see the sadness in his eyes, but he can also see a spark of flame. The need for adventure still calls him, even though Time is quite confident that Legend has been through more than what he says. There had been many obstacles in his way, and he lost many parts of himself, but he still retains a kindness and carefulness that often goes unnoticed by his prickly exterior. He says things as they are, and Time can’t help but feel a large deal of respect towards the younger man.

Sky was… well, Sky was himself. Time’s impressions of him were that he was kind and positive and perhaps the happiest of the group. But he also has a righteous aura about him that Time isn’t particularly fond of. The sword on his back is confirmation of that. Yet, Time also knows that he would trust his life in Sky’s hands. 

Four was as blunt as a tree branch being used for swordplay. He didn’t dance around his words, and when Time asked for his story, he flatly said that Time had no business knowing. Time can respect that. Clearly, whatever relationship he had with Four was purely made out of trust. Neither knew that much about each other, but it didn’t matter. The boy had a quick mind and sharp tongue, and while he kept his secrets to himself, he still didn’t mind very much being around the others. 

Warrior, Time can’t help but feel a special bond with him. Besides himself, Warrior was clearly the eldest of the group. Time knew that this man has suffered much, and has seen much more, and yet he still went out of his way to be honorable. To be kind.

Wild was a special soul. Time instantly felt the need to pay special attention to how he acted. Searching for little signs that he was uncomfortable or happy or content. Time didn’t think Wild has had that much time to be himself. In fact, it almost felt like Wild was constantly watching himself to live up to someone else. Yet, despite all of that, Time could tell his smiles were genuine, his enthusiasm heartfelt. 

And of course, there was Hyrule. Insecure to a fault, yet his heart is bigger than that. He has a lot of heart. He might say he’s not that brave, but Time knew better. He knew that Hyrule has perhaps seen just as much hell as Time himself has.

The boys were all unique. Loud. Different. And even though the headache in his skull pulsed and his eyes felt heavier and heavier the night wore on, he wanted nothing more than to continue being in their company.

They told him stories. Tried their best to help him remember some of them. He couldn’t recall them all, like the one about how Legend apparently single-handedly fought off a hoard of moblins. He suspected that was just an attempt to butter himself up and trick Time’s memory. But the story Warrior told of the great Goron spice incident came almost immediately back to him with just a small bit of fuzz around the details. Wild looked scandalized at the mention of that story, seeing as it involved a piece of women’s clothing being found in his bad, but when Time started laughing, saying that he remembered that, all of the boys became eager to tell more silly stories about the rest of them.

Wild pulled out his strange slate and began a slide show of pictures, and quite some time passed and he hardly even felt his headache anymore.

Then, the slideshow stopped on a picture of a young man with dirty hair and markings on his forehead.

The mood instantly sunk, and Time couldn’t help but feel responsible for it. 

“He looks up to you a lot,” Four mumbled, “you’re… almost like a dad to him.”

And Time knew this. He knew this the moment he saw the picture down on the slate of that young man. Twilight… feels almost like a son to him too.

Now that some time has passed with the others, he can almost see how silly he was. Sure, he was out of it, memories shattered in his head like a mirror, and Twilight simply had the misfortune of being the one to find him. The misfortune of having dark magic within him that Time didn’t recognize. How foolish of him to make that mistake. How foolish of him to judge Twilight off of that simple misunderstanding.

Almost like a sign from the goddesses, Twilight chose that time to walk in the front door. His skin around his eyes, cheeks, and ears were red from perhaps the cold, perhaps something else. He stopped in his tracks as everyone turned to look at him but his eyes instantly locked with Time. 

There was something desperate in them, so instead of saying anything, Time smiled and scooted a little on the chair he was sitting on, making room for one more to join them at the kitchen table. Twilight smiled like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders and quickly grabbed a chair and made his spot next to Time like it was the most natural thing in the entire world to do.

Laughter filled the rest of the night, and as they told yet another story Time hardly even noticed his head drooping with tiredness until an arm wound itself around his middle and hefted him upward. He did his best to cooperate with his feet, but it clearly wasn’t much help. He was eventually laid down on a soft sofa, a throw placed over his body, and before the calming embrace of sleep could take him he looked at the boy above him. How foolish of himself indeed to think this boy could ever hurt a fly.

-o-o-o-o-

Malon returned in the morning, a stash of red potions in her hands and an irritating story to tell about her next-door neighbors in the castle town inn. Though, her irritation quickly faded when she saw her husband happily resting on the downstairs sofa with a smile on his face. The boys tell her that they helped him remember most everything the night before and gave him much-needed company. When she was able to give him a red potion, the most it did was un-fog some of the trickier bits of his memory and rid him of his headache.

She didn’t complain when he pulled her close, dragging her into a love-filled kiss.

Wind made a gagging sound but Malon didn’t mind a single bit. Clearly, there was no need to worry. Her boy’s always pull through, one way or another. 

[evoedbd]

Queer Advice

Summer -  Emily Collins is terrified that Dracula's Brides will need a virgin sacrifice, and she knows exactly who that person would be. Havenfalls finest are LESS than helpful with their brilliant plan to protect their virgin huntress. ((Meshed in Mac having a version of her MC, because she’s the only character who truly NEEDS her MC to reach her full potential.)) *******

“Alright. This is serious business. We’ve found out more of Dracula’s plan and i- SERIOUSLY?” Emily started out seriously, striding into the closed bowling alley with purpose. Once the door swung shut, however, the party lights revealed something that nearly made Emily blow a gasket. A cuddle pile! An honest to whatever god may exist cuddle pile! During what was meant to be a meeting to save lives. Not just A life, but multiple. On a potentially world dominating scale. This was serious business and yet four bodies remained tangled together; a series of semi naked limbs and plaid that became indistinguishable from each other.

 Mackenzie Hunt was the easiest to distinguish amidst the chaos. The Alpha was an absolute beast of a woman, in no uncertain terms. A copper skinned goddess standing at 5.11ft high, with muscles that appeared to be forged from literal copper by an artist of ancient times. Forest green eyes kept careful watch over the bowling alley, even though the gentle smile on her lips betrayed her affection for the others. Her duty as pack leader and town sheriff seemed to weigh her brows down ever so slightly, a fact emphasised by lighter hair against darker skin. Her short, choppy hair was ruffled, suggesting she had been running a little earlier. Or perhaps fingers had been running through her hair, like she now ran her own fingers through Aisha’s chocolate dust locks. Just as Atlas allegedly held the world, Mac supported the tangled individuals on her lap. Even then, she positioned herself so that she could break away and spring up at the first sign of trouble.

 Aisha Collins appeared content enough with her head resting on the arm of the couch. Aisha looked so similar to Emily one might mistake them for twins, with their high angled jaws and blazing blue eyes. Aisha had grown into her grace, keeping her head held a little higher than Emily, which made her features seem finer. Her sharp edges were softened, as if the world around her was constantly caressing them into tranquillity. The cargo pants she wore hid her lanky legs, even as they tangled with another pair of fine legs clad in designer jeans.

 Annabelle Shepard lay facing the other direction; legs tangled through Aisha’s. Her chest rose and fell with the gentle contentment of peaceful slumber. It was easy to forget how fierce the young woman could be when one looked at her soft face. From gentle curves to large, expressive eyes, Annabelle was disarming. When awake, her cheer was almost infectious, yet she held a certain bite to her. An unnameable quality that exposed the truth of the hardships she had faced. That made you respect her without even knowing her. Her lithe arms remained folded against her chest. As always, her arms were covered by long sleeves with buttoned cuffs. The few times Emily had seen Annabelle’s bare arms, she had been greeted with thick, unsightly scars. They were vicious and deep, as if she had been savagely attacked by a rabid animal.

 Damien Ryder took the weight of the cuddle pile. He supported Annabelle’s sleeping form, with his nose tucked into her hair. His arms wrapped around Anabelle, with one of his hands holding Aisha’s legs. The tussles of his signature jacket tickled over plaid and denim, offering something for Aisha to twist around her fingers in her half-conscious state. Looking at Damien, the most striking thing about him was the pain. It darkened his ginger ale brown eyes; dragged on his broody brows. Even in a relaxed setting, his squared jaw seemed hardened and his lips downturned. That along with his shoulder length fawn hair gave Emily the impressions of a western outlaw. All that was missing was the twig of barley for him to chew on.

 “Pack thing.” Aisha sleepily explained, waving her free hand in a dismissive manner. It seemed as if she believed that nobody would understand it, so she did not bother explaining. There was a gentle cheekiness to her tone; a happiness which Emily couldn’t bring herself to attack. It was with a long-suffering sigh she directed her attention towards the literal devil in the room.

 “You just want time off work.” JD accused, a smirk touching their lips as they leaned back against the bar. Jordan Davies was the epitome of teenage angst turned into professional anarchy. Lanky and long, JD was only a smidgen taller than Emily, yet appeared to be half the weight. Beneath the biker’s leather jacket and baggy red singlet, Emily was positive she’d find nothing but a ribcage. That leanness was matched in JD’s youthful face. Mischief twinkled in ember coloured eyes, as always. Nobody could look at JD’s troublemaker getup; numerous piercings, and flame orange hair without feeling as sinful as if they were sneaking out after curfew. Something about the Jersey Devil invited chaos and trouble of the best kind. The kind where you’d wake up hungover, married to a goat and wondering where your trousers were.

 “It would mean you’d have to actually do your job, Jordan.” Razi commented, an amused smile forming beneath his elegantly groomed facial hair. Razi was a picture, with only one stylish lock out of place. With his broad, defined features and luscious dark hair bound into ponytail, it was amazing he settled for a bowling alley in a backwater town. Mythical blue eyes shone; sapphires gleaming against his bronzed skin. As usual, the hunky Djinn wore a silken button up shirt, with the sleeves folded up to his elbows and dark suspenders. The half-popped buttons showed off his defined chest, along with the many hairs curling across his skin. When the light caught those hairs the right way, Razi appeared to glow, adding to his calm mystique. This, along with his dazzling smile, was truly what made Emily think the only way to describe Razi was “An exotic gentleman.” ... yet Razi’s sister called him the ugly duckling. If that was true, Emily doubted the world was ready for the Nassar family.

 “Come on, Razi. Hikari has that locked down.” Aisha called teasingly, her lips peeling into a troublemaker’s grin to match JD’s. Emily could only wince in sympathy as she looked over to the poor demon, who was struggling to rearrange the bowling balls without breaking them.

 Hikari barely passed for human, being half Fae and half, well, Satan. Her soft, youthful features were only hardened by the copious amount of eyeliner surrounding her neon pink eyes. Darkness was a theme for Hikari, with her full, blackened lips and tiny black horns which sprouted from her coloured hair. Her long hair was perhaps the most colourful thing about her, fading from pink to purple the lower one went from her scalp. Two tiny buns sat on top of her head, little spirals of colour that were almost disarming... almost. Nothing could disarm Hikari’s attitude or sharp tongue.

 “Look! This is serious! I was doing my homework on potential rituals which the Brides may preform to resurrect Dracula and it turns out that, aside from me, they may ne-“

 “Wait... don’t tell me. A virgin sacrifice.” Aisha snipped in, appearing awfully amused when she spoke. When the entire group remained silent, powerful blue eyes widened in absolute alarm.

 “Seriously? I thought that was bogus... talk about cliché.”

 “Well, Van tried to correct things apparently, but nobody took him very seriously. If he were around, Vanessa is convinced he’d have a lot to say about the current state of things.” Emily informed, her own brows pinching as she went to speak again.

 “Of all the things to get right, eh?” JD laughed, only to grow silent at the look on their friend’s face. For all JD’s chaos, they knew when someone was hurting, and they knew when their common brand of humour wasn’t going to add to the situation.

 “Not any virgin. The closer to the intended, the better. We already know I’m the intended, with that kidnapping proposal and me being the only human Collin’s woman in town. The virgin sacrifice, well I think I know who that is. I assume it can’t be any of you. Or Diego. I already know it can’t be Grace-“

 “Definitely not Grace. We can both confidently confirm that.” Aisha agreed, causing both her and Emily’s faces to flush furiously. Grace’s prom night had not ended with her date dropping her off, rather with Emily and Aisha chasing a teenage boy out of her room with a mixing spoon and a coffee mug. It was an uncomfortable enough moment that all the Collins women did their best to avoid discussing it, yet none of them could ever bleach it from mind. Aisha had seriously considered trying it once she became a wolf. Thankfully, Mac had convinced her not to test out her new powers. JD also refused to erase the memory, finding it too hilarious to see Emily and Aisha squirming.

 “I don’t get along with any other family members. Don’t have any friends outside of Havenfall. The only other person I am close to is Vanessa. What do I do? She’s already in the crosshairs, if they catch onto this...” Emily appeared to dissolve into panic, her brows contorting. All the way from her shoulders to her hands appeared to vibrate, blurring subtly due to her trembling.

 “If you don’t want her to be the virgin sacrifice, just have her lose it.” JD suggested rather casually before they took a swig of their drink. Emily could only gape, her eyes almost bulging out of their sockets as she did her best impression of a guppy fish. Mouth agape, lips flapping as she tried to find the words.

 “Wow. Just wow. Is sex literally the only solution you can offer, JD?” Emily demanded, almost on autopilot. She was in shock. The idea was ludicrous! Insane! Utterly bonkers! She couldn’t just go up and offer to sleep with Vanessa! The huntress was already so shy about most interactions, given that she had never even had friends, let alone a boyfriend or girlfriend. If a compliment left her utterly flustered, and proximity took her breath away, then what would suggesting making love do? No, it wouldn’t be making love. Vanessa couldn’t be in love with her. It’d be sex. A physical convenience. It’d rob the hopeless romantic Vanessa of her first experience with love if she agreed to it.

 “I’m just saying. A good shag would solve several problems for her.” JD pointed out, once more grinning like a cat who had gotten the cream via nefarious methods. Emily was ready to burst. To smack the demon over the head with a bowling ball. Better yet, ask Hikari to do it. The Scene Demon would probably love to dish out some payback to JD.

 “And who would you suggest we get her into bed with? You? Diego? Razi?” Emily demanded harshly, bringing a hand up to pinch at the of her nose. Her thumb rubbed over the small scar beneath her glasses, which bounced over her knuckles as Emily attempted to purge the images from her mind by rubbing at her eyes. Picturing Vanessa with JD did not bring images of love, only an image of the Huntress kicking a demon’s flaming backside out of her van. For Diego, she could only picture a holy sword shooting out the van to decapitate the vampire, or a stake plunged into his heart. Hardly romantic. Razi... might at least be allowed to speak, but he’d wind up with the door slammed in his face.

 Emily was so caught up in her musings that she missed the look shared between Aisha and Mac, yet she did not miss the words her cousin spoke.

 “Actually... you’re the best candidate.”

 “What? Why me?” She almost shrieked, feeling as if she’d been sucker punched in the gut. Was it because Vanessa was her bodyguard? Did they just assume that it’d be acceptable? Was this how boys felt when paired with their female friends? Pressure? A touch of violation? Great. First it was a girl and boy couldn’t be friends, now it was automatically that if two women were close, they had to be lesbians. Would the clichés and stereotypes ever truly die?

 “You’re the only single human woman here.” Mac pointed out. Ok. Emily could concede to that logic.

 “Huge flaw in that, guys. You’re all just assuming Vanessa is gay!” Emily stated the obvious. Instantly, she was met with various looks of amusement and pity, all of which made her brows feel heavy and her lips ache with the urge to tip into a scowl. Honestly, for a group of outcasts and Queers, their lack of consideration was astonishing.

 “Or kinky. Come on. The leather? The whip?” JD unhelpfully added, miming a whip with their left hand when Emily fixed her glare upon them. The human felt her brow twitch even as she opened her mouth to snap back at the overly satisfied demon. Before she could even utter a single sound, a snort from her cousin cut her off.

 “It’s true. No Straight woman would wear that much leather.” Aisha added, smoothing out the moment with logic.

 “That’s a value judgement!” Emily scolded on instinct. A rather calm, deadpan stare was the only response. It only got worse as Emily felt her cheeks flush a brilliant cherry tomato. A flush which she was convinced spread to her collar given her spike in body temperature. She wasn’t stupid enough to blame it on the room heating up, not when she was the only one suffering. Okay, so maybe Aisha had a point... slash the maybe. Emily had to concede. She’d never met a woman who kept her nails short and wore so much leather who wasn’t somewhat inclined towards women. Thinking back over their interactions, Emily remembered when she had raised the question about dating history. Boyfriends? Girlfriends? Vanessa had stated explicitly she had no time for girlfriends... ok. So that had to be a hint, right? Vanessa had been so flustered even saying it. As if she expected backlash. So maybe she was a little bit gay? A little. But that was only one half of the sexuality equation.

 “She stares at your ass when you walk away. Seriously, she wants a piece. The biggest piece. I can see the gay from across the bowling alley.” Hikari’s voice rung out, drawing Emily’s focus to the approaching Fae daughter of Satan. Hikari had a look of utter condescending disbelief on her face, as if she was utterly flabbergasted that Emily could be so stupid. The intensity of that look sure made Emily feel more foolish than she had ever felt in her entire life, even if she was unsure why.

 “She looks at you like you’re chocolate cake, but she forgot to bring a spoon to eat you with.” Razi continued Hikari’s logic in a much gentler fashion.

 “Are we forgetting the little issue my last partner had? It’s called a penis!” Emily strained the word “little” with her voice and her fingers, thumb and forefinger held apart to depict the size.

 Mark had started out a wonderful partner. A caring man who was decent looking. He had a good job, solid family and had been involved with his church. Early on, Emily had thought he could be the one. Or rather, the best she would ever land with her background. When she had brought him to the bowling alley to meet her friends, however, things had gone south. Fast. Mark had torched his pristine image within minutes by his relentless attack on JD’s lifestyle. Mark exposed a traditionalist streak; which Emily couldn’t overcome. At the time, she hadn’t understood why everyone found Mark’s shouts that JD was going to hell so funny. She’d been busy dumping the tool.

 “Ahha! So you admit it was small.” JD cheered, leaping on the chance to have another dig at Mark. The Demon’s grin was victorious; so full of malicious glee that Emily couldn’t even bring herself to defend her ex. Not that she would ever feel inclined to.

 “So not the point.” Emily groaned, dropping her face into her hands. Maybe if she pinched the bridge of her nose hard enough, she could repel the building shitstorm which was her massive headache.

 “Does it matter?” Hikari demanded in an almost aggressive manner. Shocked, Emily removed her hand and stared at the Fae daughter of Satan. The Faemon appeared impassioned, her neon pink eyes blazing with such intensity it could be compared to a blast of heat straight to Emily’s face. As if she’d stepped from an air-conditioned building into 116 degrees.

 “Like, seriously. Who cares if you’ve only been with men in the past, they ain’t the shit.” The Faemon continued, earning an almost amused snort from Emily. JD smirked, Razi coughed. An actual laugh came from Aisha, whilst the rumble of a chuckle echoed softly from Mac.

 Emily had always known she found both men and women attractive, yet no woman had ever fit the bill of Girlfriend material. Usually because they were straight. Men had always been easier when it came to dating, thus Emily had learned how to handle her foolish crushes and attraction to men. Women not so much. They still left her tongue tied, overwhelmed her thoughts when she found one she deemed attractive. She still couldn’t flirt in any capacity, and she absolutely could not contain her thirst.

 “If you actually connect with Vanessa, go for it. She’s cute, she’s single as fuck and into you. Are you seriously telling me a vagina is getting in the way?” The Fae continued, driving her words home with several firm pokes to Emily’s shoulder. The human could only blink. Hikari had an excellent point.

 Vanessa was gorgeous. There was no getting around that. All lithe muscle in a highly feminine frame. Dark hair spilling down her back; hair which seemed to absorb the light in a lilac black cascade. Breathtaking violet eyes, which shone with every single emotion Vanessa ever felt. Yes, Vanessa was physically stunning, yet there was more beauty to her than just her appearance.

 Vanessa was just so earnest. Everything about her was so sincere and true that is knocked Emily off her feet. Vanessa’s bravery; her capacity to make Emily believe in the impossible with her blistering passion and steadfast loyalty. It was inexplicable. Emily was forever awed by Vanessa as a Huntress, as well as a person. Whilst Vanessa’s heroism was undeniable, so was the woman beneath the legend. The tender concern in Vanessa’s eyes was almost blanketing; a warm comfort in the night. Vanessa’s genuine smiles transformed Emily’s heart into a prism of light, reflecting the warm glow of happiness throughout her entire chest. Watching Vanessa’s wonder as she was exposed to new things was addictive. To Emily, it felt like watching a whole new world birthed from nothingness. The gentle warmth and pride Emily was a constant undertone for her excitement to engage Vanessa. To learn more. Every scrap of information given by Vanessa was a treasure; a clue leading Emily deeper into a labyrinth. The journey alone was worth more than any treasure. Each moment a glistening point of connection that Emily felt content to exist in. Vanessa’s laughter... melodic. An angel’s song. The sound alone made the world fade away and infused Emily with a sense of unequalled joy. Such a pure, sincere sound as a happy Vanessa gave Emily’s heart wings.

 “They sell solutions for that.”

 And with Aisha’s comment, Emily’s joy came crashing down. She plummeted, feathers falling from her metaphoric wings with every flap of logic and confusion tangling around her. One moment there was an argument that just because Vanessa was a woman it didn’t mean Emily couldn’t like her, or even, lord forbid, LOVE her. Then, the next moment Aisha was starting to talk about changing Vanessa? It was in jest, clearly, yet that didn’t stop the violent impulse to shout surging within Emily’s veins. Vanessa was PERFECT the way she was. Why would Emily need a silicone attachment to try to deceive her when... Ok, so maybe she was completely into Vanessa. But with angels song and happiness, why would Emily want to ever leave? Or violate that trust?

 “I wouldn’t tolerate the townsfolk bothering you two, you have my word.” Mac chimed in, noticing the increasing furrow in Emily’s brow. That was enough to break Emily out of her outrage. Mackenzie was being sincere. Worrying for Emily as if she were one of the pack. That was enough to draw a soft smile to her lips, a gesture of gratitude to the Sheriff.

 “Seriously. Humans are so hung up on this shit.” Hikari huffed in annoyance, pausing to blow on her bubble-gum. The bubble grew for a second, then the pronounced pop rung through the silent air. A gunshot before Hikari delivered her perfected opinion on humanity.

 “Losers.”

 “Gods, are all supernaturals Queer?” Emily didn’t even realise her question had been out loud before she noticed the group pause.

 Razi appeared to have been stuck by lightning. His utter shock at the question was reflected by his parted lips when he went to speak. Instead, no words escaped, and his elegant jaw snapped shut. Hikari simply resumed blowing bubbles, evidently indifferent to the question. JD let forth a bark of surprised laughter, followed by a series of eyebrow wiggles at their shocked boss. The Djinn took it in good humour, simply sighing. Meanwhile, Mac and Aisha shared a knowing look; a secret amongst the pack perhaps. Annabelle appeared rather amused as she cast her sight on Damien, who coughed subtly when faced with the weight of his pack’s stare.

 “Most are open. Even the ones in typical relationships.” He strategically answered, his eyes lingering anywhere save the almost smug grins of his pack.

 “Its a small community, we don’t judge.” JD chipped in. If the devil was burdened by the focused attention of the room, they didn’t show it as they leaned against the bar. In response to the silence which followed, they gave an all too casual shrug. That irritating silence was broken by Emily, who let out an unspeakably pained groan as her head to fall forwards into her waiting hands with a rather pronounced thud.

 “This conversation has veered so far off track it’s stuck in the gutter.” Emily’s voice was muffled by the palms of her clammy hands, which were shielding her face. In another universe, the one flashing behind her closed eyes, this conversation had not taken such a turn. They had remained logical and avoided all embarrassment as they came up with the perfect plan to protect Vanessa. There wouldn’t be a literal pile of attractive Supernaturals snuggling on the beaten down old couch. No devilish devils or sexy, well dressed Djinns making jokes. This wouldn’t have dissolved into a discussion about sexuality... and Emily’s temples wouldn’t be throbbing in time with her marching band for a heart.

 “I get it, this topic is uncomfortable. That doesn’t change the fact it would reduce Vanessa’s eligibility to practically zero.”

 Whether Aisha was genuinely trying to help, or was teasing was uncertain. Her deep eyes held the gentle understanding of a mother; matured and nurturing with a underlying protectiveness that was enough to knock an elephant off track. However, the subtle tilt of her lips betrayed amusement. Restraint. The entire wolf pack seemed to somehow snuggle closer together.

 “Look, I’m not about to go up to my friend and be like Hey, so you’re a virgin. Let’s change that so Dracula won’t sacrifice you. That is so tacky, even a porn film would reject that script!” Emily practically exploded, turning to make endless gestures to emphasise her points. Hands and hips became a second language, crudely mimicking out points in a manner equally as explosive as her booming voice. Honestly, the AUDACITY of these people! If Emily had cared a little less or was just a little braver, she’d have already bitch slapped all of them.

 She paused, taking a moment to breathe. Deep breaths. In through her nose. Out through her mouth. Her thumb sought out the small scar across the bridge of her nose when she pinched it, almost as if the gesture could contain the storm about to explode from within her.

 “She deserves someone she wants to share her life with, not just some convenient exchange.” Emily concluded, pouring every ounce of sincerity into her words. It was true. Vanessa was a romantic, behind everything. For such a vulnerable thing as physical intimacy, Emily wanted Vanessa to have the dream. The perfect first time. Candles and romance with the person she was in love with. The person she wanted to spend eternity with. Emily couldn’t even imagine a world where she took that away from Vanessa. A world where duty claimed the last piece of Vanessa; the piece only protected by lack of time. It was Vanessa’s ONE true freedom. The only part of her life that the Order hadn’t dictated or infected. How could anybody ask Emily to take that away from Vanessa? How could they even THINK it?

 “It’s clear you care about her. That must count for something.” Mac’s gentle tones drew Emily out of her internal raging. When Emily turned her gaze to the Alpha Werewolf, she met kind forest green eyes. Mackenzie Hunt understood, at least enough to sympathise with the Collins girl. Mac bore the weight of her power so well that it was all too easy to forget Mac was only a couple of years older than Emily. As far as werewolves went, Mackenzie Hunt was a young Alpha. Barely more than a pup. Yet, she saw Emily’s struggle. Even without a word of it, she offered her full support. Her approval. Even without being a wolf, Emily could feel the power in it. The warmth that emanated from the Alpha’s care.

 “Yeah. A better time.” JD added in a remarkably sincere tone. For a split second, Emily almost believed it. Then, the devil’s lips curled. Moment ruined.

 “I’m not listening. La La La.” Emily announced, lifting her hands in a weak effort to cover her ears. Still, she couldn’t help letting her mind wander. What if they didn’t have a choice? Would Vanessa be willing to accept her? Could she even live up to even a single dream or fantasy Vanessa had? Vanessa’s lavender tinged grey eyes were so expressive. Would those purples tinges darken to black with lust? Could Emily hold her gaze, or would Vanessa’s gaze devour her soul? How would Vanessa’s soft skin feel beneath her lips? Would hardened abs twitch underneath loving a kiss? Would Vanessa even want that? Could she have the patience to allow Emily to truly make her feel divine with gentle explorations and sincerely sweetened words? Or would she be inclined to take the reins? How would those battle forged hands explore if given freedom to do so? What would she want? Maybe the whip...

 “You’re blushing.” Aisha’s amused tones dragged Emily’s mind from such a salacious place. She had to get out of the bowling alley, before things became even more awkward. Before she started imagining things more explicitly. She lowered her hand to her pocket, wiping clammy palms against the coarse material before she pulled out her phone. A lifeline to save her from humiliation.

 “Oh look, I got a text! Gotta go!” She stumbled over her blatant lie in a rush to get the words out. Her phone had not chimed. Without waiting, she broke into a brisk walk towards the door.

 “To ensure Helsing’s safety!” Came a quip from behind her. Emily didn’t hesitate in raising her middle finger over her shoulder, shouting out to the chorus of laughter chasing her into the streets.

 “LA. LA. FUCKING. LA.”

[doomedandstoned]

THIS IS SOUND OF ORIGIN

~By Shawn Gibson~

When last we encountered SOUND OF ORIGIN, the smoked-up and tuned-down quartet from Huddersfield were featured in the landmark compilation, 'Doomed & Stoned in England' (2019), where we dipped our feet "Into The Vile." Since then, Sound of Origin have gifted us with an entire album's worth of material and we've had a blast immersing ourselves in their groovy soundscape of swirling riffs, vicious beats, gritty singing, and some terrific vocal harmonies. Our resident sludgehead Shawn Gibsonheavy set out to get to know these guys better, speaking to drummer Chris 'Foz' Foster following their latest APF Records release, 'The All Seeing Eye' (2020).   [Billy Goate]

Chris, how the hell are you? Thank you for your time!

Hey, Shawn. All good and absolutely no bother at all, thank you for reaching out and doing the interview. It’s very much appreciated.

Who are the members of Sound Of Origin and what do they do in the band?

There are four of us in the band. Joel (Bulsara) who is our vocalist/ frontman. Joe (Wilczynski) on guitar/backing vocals. Jax (Townend) on bass and myself, Chris (Foster) on drums.

Where is Sound Of Origin from?

We are based out of and rehearse in Huddersfield, UK. I live in a place called Sowerby just outside of Halifax and Joel lives in Leeds, so we both travel across to join up with the other two guys.

What bands do you love from your area?

Wow. That’s a tough one as there are so many. The UK Underground scene is awash with fantastic bands, and many come from around our local area. If we are talking around our immediate area, then there are the likes of Ironrat, Gandalf the Green, and our bros in Son of Boar that immediately spring to mind. But if you look within an hour's drive from where we are, you have the likes of Barbarian Hermit, Spaztik Munkey, Archelon, Boss Keloid, Ten Foot Wizard, Blind Monarch, Hundred Year Old Man, and so many more. All killer bands doing different kinds of heavy.

This is the reply to all who wrote us off: Not Dead Yet.

What venues or bars do you go to see heavy music?

There are a good number within a short travelling distance to us. The Parish in Huddersfield is our local venue. However, our good friends in Iron Boar bookings put killer lineups on in Bradford at venues such as The Underground and Al’s Juke bar. Manchester-wise, Chunk from Stonebaked promotions usually uses The Bread Shed and there is also The Alma in Bolton that puts on some cracking gigs, too.

Which bands got you turned on to doom, psych, and stoner?

From a very young age it’s got to be Black Sabbath, for sure. I can still remember how I felt when I heard them for the very first time as a five-year old, It’s stayed with me all my life. But bands like Type O Negative, Acrimony, Cathedral, Candlemass, Trouble, Weedeater, Paradise Lost, Eyehategod, Reverend Bizarre, Saint Vitus, Monster Magnet, Electric Wizard, My Dying Bride & Anathema have all hit the spot at some point over the years.

The All Seeing Eye by Sound of Origin

Who did the artwork for your new album 'The All Seeing Eye' (2020)?

A friend of Joel’s called Sam McDougall. Such a talented guy and really easy to work with. Our mates over in 4Q Media delivered the overall design for the CD package and it has worked out really well.

I love the slow part of "Warfarin" at about 5:35 minutes in. Slow and on the moon! There's even a part that incites moshing!

The end of "Warfarin" finishes off low & slow for sure. (laughs) We wanted to ensure the first song from our original EP ended with a big riff. As for the faster part, all of us in the band like some faster bands (Joe used to play in a thrash band many moons ago) and we felt like it was a natural fit in the song when we were first putting it together.

Seeds of the Past by Sound of Origin

On your first album, "Seeds Of The Past," "Warfarin," and "Asphalt" are my favorites. Tell me a little about these songs.

"Asphalt" is my personal favourite from the first EP. The way it keeps coming back around, but builds and builds each time and John’s vocal delivery (old singer) did it real justice. It was always great to play both in the studio (volume turned up to 11) and live as we used to get a great reaction from the crowd on that one. The end riff on "Warfarin," where we slowed things down, always was fun to do as we rehearsed it in the studio 'till we got it down to a virtual crawl.

My favorite off your new album, 'The All Seeing Eye' (2020), is "Not Dead Yet." That is how you start an album, goddamnit! Face melted!

It’s a big sound, for sure, when it kicks in. When our old singer left the band, we went through some pretty dark times, and we were written off by many people -- some going as far as to say we were dead as a band and we should just knock it on the head. Enter new vocalist Joel and everything changed for the better. The fact is, as a band, we have never been more alive and well. This is the reply to all who wrote us off. Not dead yet.

At times, it’s been like a budget version of Spinal Tap.

What are some things that inspired your album 'Seeds Of The Past' (2017)?

Joe had been trying to get a solid stoner-doom band together for about 10 years or so. It took a very long time to get a workable, regular platform to flourish, as life generally got in the way of establishing a fully integrated band. Seeds Of The Past is a reflection of some of the music Joe wrote years prior. That said, the title track "Seeds" we came up with in the studio jamming and it just took off from there.

What are some things that inspired the music on 'The All Seeing Eye' (2020)?

The main contributing factors that inspired the music on The All Seeing Eye were more circumstantial than anything. We hunkered down in the studio and started writing material for a new album whilst we were in the process of finding a new front man. With this in mind, we set out on patching the initial framework of songs together and took things from there. It wasn’t until the addition of Joel that we really started to get to grips with the music and what we could achieve with the overall sound on the album.

What has been an awkward moment as a band?

Ha, where should I start? At times, it’s been like a budget version of Spinal Tap. Band-wise, I would say the most awkward time for us all would be the gap between singers. Having an idea of what you want to do moving forward and not being able to do it became frustrating at times. When Joel arrived, it was like a huge breath of fresh air swept through us all. Things came together really quickly and the growing pains we had when we first started out have all but disappeared now.

On 'Seeds Of The Past' (2017) there is a song "Left For Dead." 'The All Seeing Eye' (2020) has a song "Not Dead Yet." Your sophomore album is alive and kicking!

Absolutely. There was a completely fresh take and approach on this album. The arrival of Joel in the band led to a clean sweep of what we had done before. The lads (Joe & Jax) invested completely in new amps and cabs and guitars, and a change of approach came with dropping our tuning further. Whilst a number of the songs from the album had already been written, because of Joel’s vocal range we had another look at them between the four of us and reworked a few things here and there. The four of us now are in a much better place than at any time previously with the band.

"Dim Carcosa" and "Morning Bird" are rippers off 'The All Seeing Eye' (2020)! Talk to me about what's behind these songs.

"Dim Carcosa" references Robert W. Chambers and his fantastic work in The King in Yellow. Dim Carcosa is where horror truly resides and it delves into madness in various forms. This song describes the practical inevitability of mental health issues in today’s society.

"Morning Bird" came about when Jax started playing a bassline in the studio and sparked a song out of the group. Following the general themes of perseverance and will power, this song discusses the ups and downs of self-worth and the way the political landscape recently has given a lot of people the excuse to judge, be racist, and to discriminate on all fronts. As human beings, we are very tribal and like to separate. We don’t realise that we are, in fact, one tribe.

What makes Sounds of Origin laugh?

Each other. There is a two-decade age gap in the band and we are four very different people, but when we get together the laughs are constant. There is a real feel-good vibe in the band now more than ever, which has led to an intense period of songwriting and ideas. Even through this period of uncertainty with the COVID situation. Everyone is contributing now and the songs and ideas are coming together for the next album already.

Chris, it's been a pleasure! Thank you again for your time talking about your new album 'The All Seeing Eye' (2020)! I hope you and your mates in Sound Of Origin are well.

No problems at all. Again thank you guys for the support. Big shout out to APF Records for signing us and giving us a platform to push our music on. Best wishes to you all and we hope you stay safe and well in these strange times.

Follow The Band

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[calleo-bricriu]

How about some Sinday cards (FB verse)?

(( This got LONG! For reference, he's reading top to bottom, left to right for the first three rows and the cards off to the right are the two paths at the end.

Since the image is likely too small to read:

Top row: King of Wands, Four of Swords, Seven of Pentacles, Ace of Cups, Seven of Wands, Queen of Cups.

Middle row: Queen of Pentacles, Seven of Cups, Six of Swords, The Emperor, Death, The Lover.

Bottom row: Seven of Swords, Five of Pentacles, The World, The Hanged Man, Page of Wands, Knight of Cups.

The card that shows two possible paths: Two of Wands.

The First Path: The Wheel & Knight of Swords.

The Second Path: Page of Pentacles & King of Pentacles.

This one did make me laugh as @absintheabsence is an Aquarius and @tmvoldemort is a Capricorn.   ))

You know I don't keep any--whatever it is you're considering sinning here--to one particular day of the week as though I were some sort of reverse Catholic.

Since you didn't ask about anything specific, I won't either so, you get what you get.

So, we're starting out with the King of Wands. Usually a fire sign, outgoing, charming, good with words--it says fearless but, really, with this deck, I could almost see it doing those little finger quotation marks--supportive, lenient, motivated, if someone tries to put a leash on this one they'll turn into something short tempered, and will be likely to use those described traits to be as obstructionist and fall into, 'If you want to try and make me do something I'd prefer not to do, feel free, but you will fight for every scrap of ground gained and held and I'm more stubborn than you are' territory.

Lucky you, they're going to talk about me.

Yes, thank you, I am a bit stressed at the moment and am regrouping and planning for the future in a way that will center around self-preservation. No need to clarify further, I get it, we're talking about me.

I'm not entirely sure what sort of 'sinning' we're getting at here yet, so I'll just draw a few more. This one just makes it sound like I'm going to--the thing is, I do enjoy a good game of cat and mouse, only I'm often just playing at the part of the mouse; when I am caught, the one who's caught me might not get what they'd thought they were getting.

Which, good guess on my part, as the Ace of Cups points toward new relationships in which I am unapologetically myself and will allow them to think they've captured me when the reality is I'll have just decided the chase has become a little repetitive and dull and will "surrender".

I play that game a lot.

And I am absolutely going to make them fight for every little victory but, my personality being what it is, will always be careful not to push it too far; when you push it too far, they lose interest and that's no fun.

Mum's not going to be happy about it but, that's to be expected.

Neither is some other Witch, only this Witch is substantially less friendly sounding than Mum; well, that's not entirely fair, it looks as though she's friendly enough with those she deems worthy of it and the rest can burn. Reasonably good chance she is not going to care for me being around at all.

This one is one of my favourites to get in this context; it means I'm certainly not going to be bored. It also indicates a lot of fantasy and illusion or wishful thinking but, that's not going to be from my end. I go into these things knowing exactly what they are; what the other person decides to see is on them.

At least it won't be hectic after that initial ending of the chase. Also indicates travel, specifically overseas. Calm after a storm seems apt, but I may be jumping the gun on that.

HA! Rigid, stubborn, authoritarian, always has to have their way, struggles with affection.That's all I've got to say about that card apart from, "At least it wasn't the Tower this time."

Could've done without Death. I'm well aware it doesn't mean actual literal Death, but it does indicate change. Ordinarily I'd say it indicates a change in the one represented by the Emperor, however, the overall conversation here is about me and I do not care for that. I have a very good idea about what that change might be and I am not looking forward to trudging through that bog again.

But, I'm apparently not going to mind. For awhile, at any rate.

This Swords card, quite honestly, is likely talking about myself and the other one.  Dangerous, underhanded, resourceful, spying, manipulative, rational to a fault, lies, and getting away with it all due to being flexible, adaptable and having a keen wit.

That'll be interesting.

At some point, of course, it'll start to crumble because it was never based on anything more substantial than me getting bored with the chase and the other person's life in general taking a turn for the worse.

I'll come out of it successful, accomplished, and pick up right where I left off, however.

Until it gets to that point, however, I'll feel trapped or confined, which may be literal confinement and, from time to time, will very likely be uncertain as to how it's all going to play out.

In the end, however, it'll be good and swift news for me and I'll be cut loose with very little ill effect overall; this one also indicates a Fire sign as did the first card, so it's aimed at me. Not to mention, I'll come away with it massively better off than when I went in in terms of knowledge and skill.

And that's going to land me right in the middle of a lot of interest in the romantic sense from other people once all the dust settles. Weird, but okay.

I really ought to be sporting and ask it what happens to the other person; it's only polite--and they don't want to talk about that, this one is telling me I'll have two paths I can take after I'm cut loose.

The first path seems like the same old, same old for awhile; usual ups and downs, nothing spectacular, reminder to pay attention to how you treat people on the way up as you'll likely see them again on the way down.

The second card for the first path sounds kind of annoying, to be honest, but it indicates that if I go whatever the path is that isn't the straight and narrow, it'll land me right back with that person who has the strong personality, quick wit, charm, intelligence, and more than a bit of a rebellious streak who will, by that time, be a little more rational but also still impatient and impulsive if left to their own devices. However, they're such an exciting and elusive figure that people are still drawn to them. Usually an air sign, specifically Aquarius.

The more likely interpretation is that the Wheel and the Knight of Swords are one path that can be pared down to, "It'll come full circle, have fun with that."

So, one more card at least.

Page of Pentacles. Consistency, general good news, grounded, excelling in one's career, one of those 'young at heart' things. That's a little less dull sounding than the Wheel portion of the first path.

The only odd thing is that it also points toward getting involved with an Earth sign, and points strongest to a Capricorn.

King of Pentacles, everything else aside, centers around Capricorn again and flashes of high social status, building an empire, conservative views, keeps people around them by being very careful--until you're locked down--to come off as patient, generous and stable but, behind the curtain, you're dealing with someone cold, emotionally dead, resourceful, and who will turn absolutely vicious if they even think you've put a toe out of line and has a tendency to go right off the rails if they think whatever they want isn't happening quickly enough.

Someone who can't deal with criticism and--the cards use words like 'blunt' or 'brusque' but, considering the pair of cards, I'd put my money on it being 'will get very violent, very fast if any disrespect is perceived.'

I'll take my luck with the Aquarius if, for no other reason, that I haven't had a conservative point of view on anything since I can remember and would likely not get on all that well with a stubborn, bad tempered goat who does.

These things always go off on a similar tangent any time they talk about me lately, and evidently don't want to talk about anything else, which usually means they think I haven't properly acknowledged or understood what they're saying.

I have, on both fronts, I'd just rather not think about it as I don’t necessarily want to do either.

[crazyzaika]

Love on Detours - Chapter 9

Hey guys. And we're up to the next chapter. I hope you like it, let me know what you think. Still unchecked.

Greets Z

Chapter 9

Natsu sighed and drove through his salom hair and stepped out of his room, closing the door behind him. Juvia had finally stopped crying. He had comforted her all night long. Since she had been home again, she had been crying like a castle dog and mentally he broke Gray's neck. How could this scumbag dare to deal with his sister like that? Juvia was a friendly and loving person. She wasn't the vicious monster Gray wanted to see, because she was kept out of the family business like Wendy.

But that this stupid stripper actually dared to dump the handmade cookies over her, that he dared to make her down, to humiliate her. The urge to go out and make real shit was strong, almost overwhelming. But he wasn't allowed to go out and kill him. On the one side Juvia would never forgive him and on the other side Lucy was still there. His Luce, who was pregnant from him. She had told him that she had a check. Today to be exact and he wanted to be there.

He yawned, stretched slightly and made his way to the kitchen. He needed a cup of coffee now. Otherwise he would probably fall asleep in the practice in front of Porlyusica and that was definitely not the intention. Because even if they were related, the old woman would not hesitate to pull the fur over his ears if she felt that he was disrespectful to Lucy. In the kitchen he met Weißlogia and Acnologia.

"Ah, Ouji-sama, I wish you a good morning," said Acnologia and stirred in the pan. He was standing at the stove, making breakfast, and according to the smell it was scrambled eggs. Natsu's stomach rumbled loudly and clearly and briefly there was silence. Weißlogia drank a sip of coffee, said nothing about it. Natsu felt redness on his cheeks and cleared his throat softly.

" Morning," he replied and rubbed his neck. Then he walked over to the cupboard to take a cup.

"How's Juvia-sama?"

"She's finally asleep."

"And Lucy-sama?"

"She's still here, but she took care that I helped Juvia through the night," Natsu replied and took a cup out of the closet.

"Shall we skin Gray?"

"Or fillet him?"

"Uh... no, don't."

"We can also cut him very slowly into slices."

"How about we cut him everywhere, give him adrenaline, pour salt water over his body, and then let some goats loose on him?"

Natsu saw from the cooking Acnologia to the coffee drinking Weißlogia. He sighed and stepped to the coffee machine. He urgently needed caffeine. Right now!

"I still think we should skin him."

"And where do you want to put the skin?

"We'll send them to his parents."

"Yes, of course, so that they can get on us too, right?"

" Guys ... ", Natsu began and felt as it began to thump behind his forehead. He had absolutely no nerve for these quarrels. Not early in the morning and certainly not without a cup of coffee.

"We ..."

"Shut up both of you," Natsu cried and took a sip of the hot, black liquid, leaned against the sideboard and closed his eyes. The bitter drink flowed pleasantly hot down his throat and he sighed softly.

"Ah ... caffeine," he whispered and smiled enjoying. Both men looked at him wordlessly, but before one of them could say anything, a lively Lucy stepped into the kitchen. His heartbeat speeded up.

"Good morning", she lit up all three men and Natsu pulled his brows together. It wasn't that he wasn't happy to see her. It was rather that he was a morning grouch and she was just in a disgustingly good mood.

"Why are you already in such a good mood? It's early in the morning," he grumbled, pulling his eyebrows together slightly. Lucy beamed at him broadly, came closer and wrapped her arms around his belly. Natsu grinned, feeling redness on his cheeks. She looked up at him.

"But there's an ultrasound examination today," she said, and the chocolate brown of her eyes glowed. His lips automatically turned to a grin and he wrapped an arm around her.

"Let me finish the coffee first, then we can go, okay?"

"Okay," she said, standing on her toes. Natsu bent down to her, buried a hand in her soft blonde hair and kissed her timidly, almost shyly. His heartbeat raced and his whole body seemed to tingle.

Buzzing, Lucy sat next to him, obviously excited. Natsu tried to stay absolutely calm. If he freaked out now, it wouldn't do them any good. Hysteria was absolutely out of place and yet he felt a deep fear in his bones. Yes, Natsu Dragneel was afraid. He was scared shitless because he became a father.

Can I even be a good father? he thought and his gaze wandered through the waiting room. Pregnant women and not pregnant women sat around and some looked at him either curiously or with obvious disgust. Lucy was sitting next to him, holding his hand, and that was probably something that was indicator enough that he had knocked her up even though you couldn't see anything yet. But why else would he sit next to his girlfriend as a guy and hold her hand? Especially when she stroked her lower abdomen next to him again and again. But it was still flat.

They look at me as if they wanted to kill me ... damn it ... if they cut me in four if I say something wrong or get up or something like that, he asked himself and swallowed slightly, pulled the brows together. He breathed deeply and loosened his shoulders a little. They had put on extra normal clothes. It would be even worse if they sat here in school uniform. Natsu was sure he would have been beheaded if he had come through that door. He had absolutely no desire to, if he was honest. He scratched the back of his head and pulled his lips, but said nothing else.

"Miss Lucy Heartfilia and Mister Natsu Dragneel please, consulting room 4," the nurse called them both up and as Lucy jumped up and pulled him with her, he felt the mourning, accusing looks of all the women in the room. As if he had raped Lucy or something. But he didn't say anything, just followed his girl in the right direction. He had never been here before and somehow it was strange. But well, he was a guy, what was he doing at the gynaecologist?

They followed a bright hallway to the treatment room. Lucy knocked and a voice asked her to come in. His heartbeat raced and beads of sweat gathered on his forehead. His hands became sweaty with nervousness. But even when she noticed it, Lucy simply dragged him on mercilessly. And the fear in him grew. His heartbeat speeded up. He had hardly had to take any responsibility for anything so far. Sure, he would protect Lucy with his life if it mattered. But there were twins he would raise with her. For whom he was responsible. For whom he had to be a father, a role model!

"Ah, Lucy and the stupid brat", the growling voice of Porlyusica welcomed him and he stared at the elderly lady. He forced himself to a broad grin, but still stood stiff as a stick in the room. Lucy blinked slightly, looking at Natsu waiting.

"Natsu?"

"Uh... "

"Would you please close the door behind you, boy?" The voice of his relatives reached his ears and pulled him out of his rigor. Hastily he closed the door behind him and rubbed his neck nervously. Lucy frowned.

"Well then, Lucy. We're doing an ultrasound," Porlyusica said, and Natsus's eyes grew a little bigger as Lucy obediently nodded. She then followed her doctor behind the room divider.

"Don't you want to watch?" asked his great-aunt 4th grade there and he swallowed lightly. His body started to move. His heartbeat was booming in his ears and all the sounds seemed to be blurred as he slid beside Lucy. She was sitting in a strange chair he had never seen before and had already pushed the soft sweater up under her lush chest and also pushed the waistband of the black leggings down so that her stomach and abdomen were exposed. She beamed at him and stretched out a hand towards him.

Natsu followed the wordless invitation, grabbed her hand and clung to it. Lucy giggled and smiled at him. Porlyusica just snorted at his behavior, applied gel and turned on the ultrasound. She began to circle over Lucy's abdomen with a device. Natsu stared at the black and white screen with his eyes wide open. That would be the first time he would see his children. Sweat beads dripped from his temples. His children. His heartbeat speeded up further and he felt his whole body begin to tremble.

He had never been afraid of anything before. Well, his mother was frightening as shit, but he knew she would never do anything serious to him. She loved him too much for that. No matter how often she cursed and threatened murder, torture and pain. And then he saw the slowly forming fetuses. His eyes widened more. He heard nothing, perceived absolutely nothing. His heart stopped, his breath stopped. Those were his children there. His twins. Warm humidity ran over his cheeks and then he felt Lucy pull his hand. Slowly, as if in a trance, he lowered his gaze to her and she shone at him, grinning broadly.

"Natsu ... we become parents", she laughed quietly and he blinked. His knees became soft and he took a hasty breath, bent over Lucy and kissed her stormy, pulling her into his arms. His heart raced, butterflies threw a party in his stomach. They became parents. His Luce would give him two children.

"Well, there seems to be absolutely nothing wrong with these two. We'll see each other again in a month. I'll print you the picture."

He only noticed the voice of his great-aunt on the edge, broke away from Lucy, who stroked his cheeks.

"You don't have to cry because of it", her words were quiet and Natsu blinked confused. He ... cried? Confused he stroked over his cheeks and stared at the tears on his fingers. A quiet laugh dissolved in him and he pulled Lucy again into a firm embrace, burying the face in her hair. His heart raced, beating painfully fast against his ribs and he felt as if he could move mountains.

"I love you, Luce. I love you so much", he whispered. She laughed quietly, stroking his hair. He stroked his lips across her throat, kissed her soft, fragrant skin and elicited a beautiful sigh from her. He detached himself a little from her, bent over her and kissed her again, buried his fingers in her blond, velvety hair.

"Did you know this is a treatment room," Porlyusica's stern voice tore them apart. Redness burned on his cheeks and he swallowed slightly, but grinned his typical grin.

"Sorry, aunt," he said, laughing slightly nervously. She snorted, twisted her eyes and handed Lucy a wet cloth to wipe the gel off. Natsu felt his whole body tingling and his heart racing. It was a strange feeling and he swallowed. He couldn't explain why he felt like that. Darkly he remembered that he had felt that way when he met Lucy and redness spread to his cheeks.

"Luce ...", he began and she looked at him waiting.

"Yes?

"Somehow ... I feel funny," he confessed, as she got off the examination chair, straightening her clothes. She pulled her brows together, looked at him waiting.

"In what way?"

"Somehow ... my heart doesn't want to calm down and ... it's tingling everywhere," he confessed and his aunt's laughter reached his ears. The redness on his cheeks became deeper. Heat burned on his cheeks.

"Why are you laughing?"

"You are in love you idiot. But don't worry, I guess you've fallen in love with your children. Happens more often here," Porlyusica said and shrugged her shoulders. Natsu raised his eyebrows. So ... had he always loved Lucy? Was she serious? Lucy giggled and he felt her putting her hand on his cheek, turning his gaze towards her. Her chocolate brown eyes glowed, amber colors shimmered with love.

"Come, let's go home, my darling," she said and he nodded without a word. His heartbeat quickened again and he felt as if he could embrace the whole world. He became a father! Suddenly the whole thing didn't seem so frightening anymore.

[superwolfiestar]

Across Another Dimension Ch.35

The gang walked into the parlor and, despite have creepy gargoyle-like candle holders, had a very nice vintage-style to it and even had four paintings: a brunette-southern belle female rabbit holding a parasol, a middle-aged gentleman duck with a pen and document in hand, an elderly fox woman with a rose, and a raccoon man wearing a bowler hat. Each of the group found themselves admiring these portrait, though they could only the upper halves of each.

"Our tour begins here, in this gallery. Here you will see paintings of some of our guests as they appeared in their corruptible, mortal state."

"Well, I have to admit, these portrait actually look like they should be in a museum." Scrooge commented, observing the portrait of the middle-aged Duck.

This tour didn't seem as frightening, in fact, it felt surprisingly pleasant, despite the fact that the group were inside a haunted Victorian style mansion with the ghost of the previous owner holding them against their will. Even Super Caballeros and the Boy Princess Donald led found themselves enjoying themselves as Panchito mimicked the pose of the raccoon by crossing his arms; causing Donald to giggle at his antics. Things started to take a drastic change, however, as they al began to feel something was amiss, but what was it?

"Hey, guys, any of you getting a sinking feeling?" Princess Della asked as a feeling of dread started to work its way in her stomach.

"What do you mean?" Huey asked, when suddenly . . .

"Your cadaverous pallor betrays an aura of foreboding, almost as though you sense a disquieting metamorphosis. Is this haunted room actually stretching, or is it your imagination? Hmm?"

True to the Ghost Host's word; the room really was stretching! Not only that, but the portraits were beginning to expand! The group was now allowed to see the full descriptions of each person per portrait. Only, they were starting to wish that they hadn't, for each portrait showed a sight, more hideous than the last. The southern belle with the parasol was revealed to have a slenderly build and wearing a beautiful dress with a lavender upper-shirt from her waist to her neck, pink frilled-shoulders, and a white skirt with green flowery designs that reached about ten inches above her ankle, and pink slip on shoes. What came after that was certainly a shock! As the portrait stopped stretching, they all saw that the young woman was balancing herself, tip-toe on a fraying tightrope . . . which was above the open jaws of a large, vicious-looking alligator!

The portrait with the middle-aged duck wasn't any less shocking than the last as it also showed something when it stopped stretching. Then duck was wearing a white dress-shirt and black long-sleeved tail coat, but that was only his upper-body. While he was wearing black and white leather shoes with socks that matched in color, it was revealed that he was in nothing but his undergarments from the waist down, which would have been hilarious . . . provided if it weren't for the fact that he was standing on a keg of dynamite . . . which was also lit up by a stray candle!

The shock continued on as the portrait of the old fox woman had stopped stretching to reveal something that made them all blood run cold. Her full features included a black funeral-dress with a pink collar, black shoes with grey socks, and a reddish poncho with pink highlights. Her most notable feature being her hair done up in a beehive. It also showed that she was sitting on a tombstone:

Rest

In

Peace

Dearly Departed

GEORGE

Along with a bust of an elderly, balding fox gentleman with a handlebar mustache . . . And a hatchet embedded on the crown of his head!

Last, but certainly not least, the portrait of the raccoon the bowler hat showed that he was wearing a white dress-shirt, black jacket, black slacks, and Italian-looking leather shoes. It was a surprise to see that he was sitting on the shoulders of a middle-aged male mountain goat white short hair and mustache. He wore a white dress-shirt, red suit, brown vest, black bow-tie, red pants, and brown leather shoes. One would think that the red on his face was because of trying to hold up the raccoon sitting on his shoulders, but what came next eliminated that possibility. Below the mountain goat was a younger male mountain lion with neatly combed hair with sideburns that connected to his trimmed goatee. He wore a white dress-shirt, grey vest, black bolo-tie, but that was all that could be seen as the lower half was submerged in quicksand! There was even a sign with the word "QUICKSAND" to point out the obvious.

Despite the horrific acts of macabre they were all in, all four of the wolves smiled pleasantly, as if their lives meant absolutely nothing at all! Needless to say, the group were beyond shocked, but could only show it with raised eyebrows as they turned to share a glance at one another. Their thoughts were interrupted as the Ghost Host decided to speak up at the exact moment.

"And consider this dismaying observation: this chamber has no windows and no doors."

True to his words, the group saw that their point of entry had vanished; leaving them trapped in the stretched-out gallery.

"Which offers you this chilling challenge: TO FIND ANOTHER WAY OUT!"

The Ghost Host then let out a loud, sinister laugh that echoed through the walls, much to the group's discomfort.

"Of course, there's always my way . . ."

". . . Why does that sound so wrong?" Launchpad asked in a quivering voice.

It was at that very moment that the candle lights flickered off; leaving the group in total darkness.

"Hey, who turned out the lights?!" Gyro yelped in shock.

Before anything else flashes of lightning had suddenly illuminated the entire room in strobes; didn't the Ghost Host say there weren't any windows in the room? The group was now starting to think that things possibly couldn't get any worse than they were, now. Well, unfortunately, they were dead (no offense to the long deceased) wrong! The sounds of Boy Princess Donald and Princess Della screaming captured the attention as the rest of the group looked towards the royalties, who were scream up at the . . . ceiling? Before they could be questioned, the group followed where they were screaming at . . . and saw why they were so frightened. There, suspended by the neck with a noose on a now clear cupola above the ceiling, was a skeletal goose corpse of a canine! It was more than likely that this was the long, decomposed body. The group looked on in absolute horror at the hanging corpse for a few seconds as a loud, dreadful scream was heard, until the lightning stopped and the candles lit back up. At first the group thought that the whole ordeal was only hallucinations, but they rethought their assumptions when they saw that they were still in the chamber with the stretched portraits.

"What . . . was that?" Panchito asked as soon as he found his voice.

"He . . . He took the coward's way out . . ." Boy Princess murmured softly, though the room was quiet enough for everyone to hear (and agree).

It took a few seconds for the group to shake of their shock and Panchito found that Jose was holding on to his arm, as was Boy Princess Donald holding onto Jose arm. When they saw how close they were with each other, it was safe to say that both couples were embarrassed by these actions. This caused all four of the youths to blush extremely.

"Oh!" Boy Princess yelped, jumping away from the Super Caballeros.

"Sorry, I . . ." Jose muttered trying to hide his blush.

"I-it's cool." Panchito dismissed, relishing how close to he was to his two lovers.

"No harm done." Boy Princess stated cooly, though he was ready to dance from being close to his two heroes.

Their moment was short-lived as the Ghost Host spoke up like he always did.

"Oh, I didn't mean to frighten you, prematurely."

Again, like he always did, the Ghost Host chuckled sinisterly at his own words.

"Oh yeah, be a spooky-wooky crackerbox, that's so mature." Gyro scoffed bitterly to himself.

"The real chills come later, now, as they say, "Look alive", and we'll continue our little tour. Oh, and let's try to stay together, please."

After his speech was done with, a part of the wall opened up to reveal a small hallway.

"For once, I actually agree with him." Dewey stated, which every nodded.

[eotheria]

The World of Eotheria According to Lady Valentine

Part 16: The Sultanate of Etrana

And now we come to the third of the three greater human nations: Etrana. Though they are roughly on equal footing to Kresnik and LaCroix in terms of size and military strength, they have long chosen a stance of non-intervention when it comes to assisting their neighbors to the west, prefering to concentrate on their own internal affairs instead. This has not endeared themselves to Kresnik or LaCroix, particularly when both nations are at each others’ throats and just waiting for an excuse to go to war.

Etranan people make up the vast majority of the human population in their own nation, unsurprisingly. The people of Etrana are generally tall and muscular, with dark mahogany skin, curly black hair, and dark eyes. LaCroixians and Northerners, described in the previous chapter, are also known in Etrana, but are comparatively rare, making up roughly one out of every twenty humans in Etrana.

The founding of the Sultanate is a relatively recent development compared to the other human nations. In the past, the region of Etrana was the focus of a great many wars between three distinct provinces, Dumabail (northwestern Etrana), Nurhatlar (southwestern Etrana), and Az’zashtun (eastern Etrana). The three provinces would be unified in a single nation as a result of what is now known as the War of Unification. The seeds were actually sown in 633 BGE, when the Kordran Empire attempted an invasion of Nurhatlar and Az’zashtun. The two nations joined forces to fend off the hobgoblins, and soon after turned their blades to another common enemy: Dumabail. The province of Dumabail surrendered after a six year long war, and the Sultanate of Etrana was founded in 614 BGE. The sultanate held for a long time; there had been a number of internal conflicts, but nothing that ever amounted to civil war, and once the Seven Goddesses descended, all infighting, for the most part, ceased.

Etrana takes great pride as a sea-faring nation. They were the first to discover the continent of Olbera, the New World, though little is still known about it. They also founded a number of island nations between Etrana and Olbera, all of which are territories of the Sultanate. Interestingly, Etrana has begun its own experiments into magitech research,and recently developed the first fully steam powered ship. It’s relatively primitive compared to the great magitechnology that Kresnik has produced, but by all accounts it’s effective and efficient.

The Sultanate

Etrana is the only one of the seven nations that maintains an absolute monarchy. In theory at least. In practice this power is not so absolute. Though Etrana has no diet, parliament, senate, or the like, it does have a military order called the Yellow Shields. The Yellow Shields were formed in 228 GE after the overthrowing of the infamous Mad Sultan Hayyan, a man who’d been pushed to the throne by his family despite showing signs of mental illness at an early age. Among his acts, he ordered the murder of his entire family out of sheer paranoia, accused an order of Nahaniel worshipers of conspiring with the Kordran and ordered them burned at the stake, and, most bizarrely of all, insisted that he could fly. Hayyan’s successor, an Etranan statesman named Farhad, signed a law to grant the Yellow Shields emergency powers if ever the sultan of Etrana were to overstep the bounds of his position.

The problem is that Farhad never thought of a way to police the Yellow Shields themselves (he had thought that, being devout Nahaniel worshipers, the Yellow Shields would be beyond such temptations). This arrangement worked out well for the first hundred years or so, but eventually the Yellow Shields realized that there were plenty of loopholes to allow them to grant themselves emergency powers whenever they wanted and take control of Etrana if need be. As the old saying goes, power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. No less than three sultans have been overthrown by the Yellow Shields since this law was put into place, and not all of them for particularly good reasons, and the Yellow Shields have, on several occasions, used the mere threat of taking control to get the sultan to do whatever they wanted. That’s not to say the sultan is completely hopeless. The Yellow Shields can be tried and convicted of treason if they go too far. It’s just that it’s very difficult to find proof of such, and every attempt to change the law to reduce the power of the Yellow Shields has been met with swift resistance. It doesn’t help that more and more these days the Yellow Shields have been rumored to be receiving direct funding from some of Etrana’s wealthiest, which may well make them pawns of the filthy rich.

The current sultan, Alhazad ak’Khim, age 44, is no stranger to this game of political intrigue. He’s well liked by the people, but not so much by the nobility and the wealthy. To his credit, he has worked towards compromise. The Yellow Shields and the wealthy have conceded to a number of tax reforms to improve the lives of the poor. However, there is one thing they absolutely will not budge on: they refuse to take any part in the current political struggle between the Kresnik Empire, the LaCroix Union, and the Kordran Empire. Most in Etrana see the struggle between Kresnik and LaCroix to be a matter between the two nations. Although King Arthur IV of LaCroix tactfully warned the leaders of Etrana that Kresnik would not stop with LaCroix, most feel that much of Kresnik’s hostility towards LaCroix was LaCroix’s fault. After all, LaCroix was the one who built a union and fortified their borders simply because they feared that Kresnik was looking their way next. And while Etrana has no love for the Kordran Empire, they not see them as an immediate danger. Of course, the fact that Etrana does not share a border with Kordran might have a lot to do with that.

Enemies of Etrana

That’s not to say that Etrana does not have its own struggles. They absolutely do. Minotaurs, vile worshipers of Rakkadi, demon lord of violence, have taken hold in northwestern Etrana, in the fertile grasslands. These minotaurs were forced out of LaCroix by their ancient enemies, the gnolls, and regularly raid Etranan villages in the name of their deranged demon lord. However, not all minotaurs are vicious and violent. Some of the more peaceful minotaur tribes that denounce Rakkadi were also displaced from LaCroix and found their way to Etrana, and while many Etranans give them a wide berth, they are more than happy to lend a hand in dealing with their more violent brethren.

A much greater threat to the Etranans are the lamia. These beings resemble centaurs somewhat, though with the lower body of a different creature entirely, usually a feline, though goat and antelope lamia are known. The lamia make their homes in the deserts of northern and central Etrana. Like minotaurs, lamia are worshipers of a demon lord. In this case, the lamia worship Saya, the demon queen of desire. Seductive creatures by nature, lamia are quite hedonistic, seeking to surround themselves with beauty and slaves. But don’t let this fool you into thinking them weak. Lamia are masters of illusion, misdirection, and mirages to deceive and destroy their foes. And when they need to throw down, they’re very capable of such. There are four known tribes of lamia, but all of them are allied with one another and have effectively declared war on Etrana, seeking to take what they consider their ancestral homelands. The Etranans have been at war with the lamia for centuries, but have never rid themselves of these creatures for any long period of time. Every time it seems they are defeated, they return, stronger than ever. The fact that a lamia can disguise themselves as a human (and very easily at that) might have had something to do with it. The only fortunate thing about the lamia is that they detest all other races, including the Rakkadi worshiping minotaurs, detailed above.

The Sphinxes

There are very few things in Eotheria that give me pause. Some of my fellow vampires conspire against me, but even if all of them fought me at once I would not consider them a major threat. The insane worshipers of the Primordial Chaos are too disorganized for me to consider them any more than fodder. The Church of Galan, for the most part, knows better than to meddle in my affairs, and I have no fear of their goddesses. Even the light of the sun does not harm me as much as it once did.

And then there are the sphinxes of Etrana. These damnable creatures! They act as guardians of lost treasure troves of knowledge, claiming to be the servants of ancient gods unknown to all in Eotheria. They allow only the worthy to take of their treasures; and no, you're not worthy in their eyes. Trust me. if you believe yourself to be so, by all means, go to a sphinx's lair and let them ask you an unsolvable riddle. Even if you give the correct answer, odds are they won't be happy with the way you answered and will eat you anyway, or they'll tell you that answering correctly didn't guarantee they wouldn't eat you. They are a pain and a half to deal with, since they always know when you're lying, and it's all but impossible to tell what their intentions are. Their morality is bizarre to say the least. Most accept that morality is on a dual spectrum of good and evil, and law and chaos. Nowhere on these spectrum do sphinxes sit. If they follow any rules at all, they are rules of their own making that we cannot hope to comprehend. None of this would be all that annoying if not for one glaring problem. Reality has no rules where a sphinx is concerned! Gravity? Causality? Time and space? They laugh at such things. Attempting to fight a sphinx is folly simply because they don't have to kill you; they can simply force you to rapidly age backwards or deposit you in one of the elemental planes, never to be heard from again.

If there are any limitations to a sphinx's reality bending power it is that it is limited to their lairs (and mercifully they almost never leave them), and that they are bound by the Primordial Ban as everything else is. My outsider wizard acquaintance told me that sphinxes on other worlds are indeed the vault keepers of the gods that the Eotherian sphinxes claim they are. If this is the case, and if the sphinxes were around since the creation of the Primordial Ban, perhaps this is why they act as they do. Perhaps the weariness of the ages and the lack of any divine command from the outer planes has driven them as insane as they behave.

Either way, I can not even begin to fathom the amount of knowledge that the sphinxes have. For all I know they could very well teach Mephis, Demon Lord of Knowledge, a thing or two. They may know everything about Eotheria; when the Primordial Chaos will next awaken, who created the warforged, what became of the dragons, the nature of the gods of Eotheria, and many other secrets that I would love to know the answers to. Sadly with the vault keepers being as unhinged as they are, that knowledge may never leave the lairs of the sphinxes.

Nahaniel, the Navigator

With the Etranans having a passion for seafaring, it was only natural that their goddess would be a goddess of the sea. Nahaniel is represented as an Etranan woman, barefoot, wearing a long yellow scarf over her face. Said to be more capricious and mercurial than her fellow goddesses, Nahaniel embodies the wind: gentle and refreshing at her best, terrible and destructive at her worst. Despite this, she is seen as a benevolent goddess. She is often referred to by Etranans as “The Navigator”. Seamen who set sail from port always give prayers to Nahaniel, that she may guide them to a safe passage.

This finishes up Etrana. In the next chapter I will talk about the four lesser nations, beginning with Creat Pristan.

[goddamnitaisha]

Hey dear @asreoninfusion,

remember a time before you were a popular blog Sefikura BDSM Kink Queen? 

When you were too afraid to make a blog? And were too afraid to message me because you worried you would annoy me? Before we met in real life. 

Hahaha you sent me anon messages in a time I received multiple anons a day. I had to give you a nickname because I wanted you to sign your posts. I gave you name options, you chose the name anon-sundown. I wanted you to continue talking to me, because you were cute enough to be adopted. You suggested writing about your funny life experiences.

Now, I kept all these messages for years. READ THEM BOTTOM TO TOP. You might want to copy them and put them on your own blog.

Love,

your friend Aisha

anon-sundown asked you: 10 hours ago You couldn't actually see the driver; all that was visible were two hands sticking out through this massive bunch of bananas, clutching the handlebars with a white-knuckled grip, and a little face peering round the edge.

anon-sundown asked you: 10 hours ago But the favourite two-wheeler incident was the banana man. People would often cart around huge amounts of food or stock for the local shops they owned; this man was transporting bananas. A /lot/ of bananas. To this day I have no idea how he managed to balance them all on there, but it is safe to say there was significantly more banana than man.

anon-sundown asked you: 10 hours ago We used to see all sorts of insane things on two-wheelers. Across the road from the Croc Bank there lived a man who would regularly drive a fully grown goat around on his bike, with the animal casually draped over the back. One time we saw two men driving along with an eight foot length of PVC pipe... lengthways. They were holding it /across/ the bike, taking up almost the entire road and forcing everyone to swerve all over the place to avoid them! (Fairly standard driving for India, then.)

anon-sundown asked you: 10 hours ago Let's have a non-animal related story for a change. In India they were big on their motorbikes - or two-wheelers, as they call them. They tend to be a lot cheaper and more accessible for most people, so they made up about 40% of the traffic. And the amount of stuff people would cram onto those things! It wasn't at all uncommon to see a family of four or five squashed onto the one bike.

anon-sundown asked you: 12 hours ago One other thing the macaques used to do - and I have no idea where they learnt to do this, if it was instictive or they had learnt it from someone - was floss their teeth. The zookeeper would pull out a strand of their hair and hand it to the monkeys, and they'd start flossing! That soon became an integral part of the feeding show, getting them to clean their teeth afterwards for the visitors to see. We were often the ones doing that, so it's a good thing both my mum and I have very thick hair!

anon-sundown asked you: 12 hours ago Even if they weren't playing with the hose, most of the monkeys would still stop and stare while you cleaned, then try to imitate what you were doing. My mum once brought in a little toy broom to give to them while she was sweeping, see if she could get them to copy her and do some of the work! (They weren't buying it.)

anon-sundown asked you: 12 hours ago In the complete opposite of the spider monkeys, the macaques loved water. The cleaning always took twice as long as it should have, as the monkeys would come and play in the spray when you were trying to hose down the floor and rocks. On more than one occasion a zookeeper (usually my mum) was caught playing skipping rope with the monkeys and a stream of water.

anon-sundown asked you: 12 hours ago Cleaning their enclosure was always a two person job; one to do the cleaning, and the other would stand there with a hose, keeping the monkeys at bay. Fortunately, the macaques monkeys were much friendlier. You had to make sure not to get too near to any of the babies - the mothers were very protective of their young - but other than that they were quite happy to have company in their enclosure.

anon-sundown asked you: 12 hours ago Most of the time the spider monkeys would grudgingly accept an intrusion at feeding time. They weren't pleased that someone was in their space, but they knew that they got food out of it. Even so, they could be vicious buggers, so the zookeeper would always carry a water pistol in with them. If the spider monkeys got too close or too aggressive, you just squirted them with the water pistol and they would back off!

anon-sundown asked you: 12 hours ago At the Hunter Valley Zoo in Australia there were also monkeys, although these were part of the zoo rather than the local wildlife! We had two species; macaques and spider monkeys. The macaques were a big friendly group, playful and generally very nice. The spider monkeys, on the other hand, were not. Their enclosure was /their/ territory, and hoo boy, they did not like their territory invaded. Oddly enough, the only thing they liked less than having someone in their territory was... water.

anon-sundown asked you: a day ago Fortunately, he missed the food. But he did knock over a bottle of milk belonging my little sister (who was very little then). Somehow he managed to set it spinning right around, squirting milk out in every direction at everyone while we dove for cover. Having very successfully got our attention, the goat then hopped back down and made for his balcony, only to run straight into the closed glass door. We let him out there just to get some peace!

anon-sundown asked you: a day ago He's obviously gone for my apple cores, sticking his head into the bin to get at them... but then his horns had got caught, and he couldn't get himself back out past the swing lid. So he just pulled the whole thing off. and then, flailing around like a mad thing trying to dislodge the lid, charged upstairs and jumped right up onto the dinner table.

anon-sundown asked you: a day ago One final piece of background information; I like eating apples. I used to sit at the computer in the front room downstairs, happily munching away, and throw the cores into a little bin with a swing lid just by the desk. This is relevant. So, the goat sneaks into the house. The family is all sat down for dinner, minding our own business, and the first we know of it is hearing a huge ka-clop, ka-clop, ka-clop as the goat comes absolutely flying up the stairs with a bin lid stuck around his neck.

anon-sundown asked you: a day ago As it turned out, we needn't have worried. The goat's reaction to the big scary dogs was to headbutt them, full in the face. The German Shepherd was the one scared of the goat! After the goat had grown a bit and become too big for the balcony, he was relocated to a nice little shed outside. But he still believed the balcony was /his/ balcony and his home, and thus would regularly sneak into the house and charge upstairs to try to get back there.

anon-sundown asked you: a day ago When the goat was just a little thing, it used to live out on the balcony on the second floor of our house. This was because we also had two dogs, an Australian Cattle dog and a fully grown German Shepherd. The former was about twice the size of the goat, and the latter three or four times bigger. We introduced them regularly, but didn't want them to share the same living space until the goat was a bit more grown up and less likely to be intimidated by the big scary dogs.

anon-sundown answered you: a day ago rp-sephiroth asked:

Hahahahaha, I loved the story of the goat. It made me really happy on a less than happy day! xD You're so full of good things, I can't imagine why you still hide. Over the past few weeks you've come across as a pretty rad friend. xD <3 Yes, you make me happy!

Ahhh, thank you! I’m so happy I can make you happy. ^_^ I have another tale of the goat for today’s silly story.

anon-sundown asked rp-writer-aisha: 2 days ago Oh! And just out of curiosity, how are you making the keyblade? I cosplayed Aqua one time and made Stormfall for her. It came out... okay, I guess, but a bit fragile. Someone leant on it and snapped it. orz So anyway, I'm interested to see what method/materials you're going to use. :)

anon-sundown asked rp-writer-aisha: 2 days ago I know what you mean about the self-acceptance thing. v_v And for me it never seemed reasonable or fair to expect anyone else to like you when you don't even like yourself. (This thinking is a significant part of why I'm always so terrified to talk to anyone new; it just seems so rude to impose my shitty self on them. orz) But I like you, and I'm sure the other people you mentioned who send you messages like and accept you too! It's probably not worth much, but there's that at least. ^^'

anon-sundown asked you: 3 days ago Then the goat came trotting along, looking pleased as punch with himself, with three or four cigarettes hanging out of his mouth. Ah, of course. The builder took off after the goat to try and get them back, but alas, it was too late for the cigarettes. They were chewed to pieces and covered in goat slobber. And the poor builder never did get to have a smoke that day.

anon-sundown asked you: 3 days ago The goat was also around. And goats, as you may know, will eat just about anything. On this particular day, 'anything' was the builder's entire packet of cigarettes that he had left out. He came asking us if we knew where his cigarettes had gone, and for a good while we were all searching around the area he'd misplaced them, scratching our heads.

anon-sundown asked you: 3 days ago Originally, Avoca Drive was bought as a plot of land, and my mum and stepdad had a house built on it. We moved in as soon as we could, with just a few finishing touches like carpets to go down and a concrete path to lay outside the front door (the latter of which meant we had to climb out a ground floor window to get out the house for a day or two while the concrete set, that was fun). So there were a few builders around, just finishing up whatever they needed to do.

anon-sundown asked you: 3 days ago While we were in the same house as the wombat incident (henceforth to be known as Avoca Drive, if I need to reference it again) we also owned a goat. And this goat-- oh Goddess, this goat. It was a donation from another family; they had won the goat in a charity auction, raising money for African villages and 'Give a Goat' sort of projects (hence why they were auctioning a goat, I suppose). But they discovered after the fact they didn't have the time/space to look after a goat, so it came to us.

I perched on the back of the sofa (up out of reach of marauding wombats; I wasn't taking on that thing either) and laughed at everyone. Eventually my brother joined me up on the sofa, and the wombat was led away to its overnight bunk in the cupboard under the house, where it the proceeded to keep everyone up all night trying to dig through the foundations.

anon-sundown asked you: 2 minutes ago He tried to shake the wombat off, changing direction and speeding up. The wombat only sped up after him. They ended up running round the room in panicked circles with my brother shouting for mummy. Mum swept in for a rescue attempt, but was not very successful. They /both/ ended up running round the room being chased by the wombat.

anon-sundown asked you: 3 minutes ago Now, this wombat had been trained at Taronga Zoo to follow people around, so the zoo keepers could easily get it to go where they wanted. So when we let it out to have a wander in the front room it began to follow around my brother. He was only ten at the time, and not terribly pleased by the large hairy creature tailing him at a distance far to close for comfort.

anon-sundown asked you: 5 minutes ago Okay, so back when we lived in Australia (as my stepdad is Australian; everything is always his fault), he and my mum owned a zoo in the Hunter Valley, several hours drive north of Sydney. We had acquired a wombat, a transfer from Taronga Zoo. Since our house was directly along and right in the middle of the route between Taronga in Sydney and the Hunter Valley, it was decided the wombat would stay a night at home to break up the journey.

anon-sundown asked you: a day ago We eventually got the noodles back after my mum went and yelled at the monkeys, though it wasn't terribly effective until the monkeys hissed back and scared my little sister. Then my mum actually got angry with them, and she is rather scary when angry. The monkeys dropped the jar and ran off, and thus victory was ours.

anon-sundown asked you: a day ago One time the door to the house was left open and two monkeys broke in. One stood guard at the door while other darted into the kitchen, jumped up on to the counter and proceeded to raid the cupboard. They made off with a jar of pot noodles and took to a nearby tree to try and prise the thing open (without much succes).

[dillydedalus]

november reading

so with lockdown #2, my master’s thesis done & handed in etc, i just had absolutely nothing going on so this month so... lots of books. featuring Houses full of statues and birds, an AU of weimar berlin, and... the plague?

someone who will love you in all your damaged glory, raphael bob-waksberg (audio) actually listened to this last month! anyway even tho i forgot about it, i actually really liked it! it’s a collection of short stories, all about love in some way, most with a strange twist - a couple wants a small wedding but the MIL insists they have to at least sacrifice 5 goats to the stone god and have a shrieking chorus, or it’s hardly a real wedding, right? that kind of thing. i really liked these stories; they were fun, hopeful without being cheesy (mostly), and the audio production, with lots of actors reading the different stories was fun. 4/5

the driver’s seat, muriel spark man this novella is nasty, but in a good way - sharp, vicious, mean but so well executed. it’s also pretty hard to discuss without spoiling it & i do think one should go into this unspoiled. but it’s certainly a classic of the unhinged women genre, showing lise seemingly making herself as noticeable, irritating and off-putting as she can on a trip to an unnamed (probably italian) city. 3.5/5

the empress of salt and fortune, nghi vo (singing hills cycle #1) a lovely novella set in an asian-inspired fantasy empire, which shows young cleric chih and their speaking hoopoe almost brilliant learn the story of a previous empress, a northerner who rose from exile as an cast-aside wife to power and of her servant, a peasant girl called rabbit. enjoyed the setting and the way this story unfolded through objects and rabbit’s retelling, and will definitely read the sequel novella which comes out in december. 3.5/5

pine, francine toon (audio) this is a crime/thriller type book with some horror elements about a young girl whose mother has disappeared mysteriously when she was very small. she lives with her dad in the scottish highlands close to a giant forest. the beginning is pretty cool & creepy, but then like 80% of it is just the girl being sad & wanting to know what happened to her mother & the dad being an alcoholic mess. and then most of the plot happens in the last 10% & isn’t great. disappointing. 2/5

where the wild ladies are, aoko matsuda (tr. from japanese by polly barton) a collection of short stories retelling japanese folklore stories about female ghosts/monsters with a feminist twist. on the whole, i liked these stories, but also found them a lot more light in tone than i expected; i guess i thought this would be more on the wild & raw side, so i ended up finding them a bit underwhelming. might also be a problem with lacking cultural context. will say tho that tilted axis press is great & i will seek out more of their books. 2.5/5

piranesi, susanna clarke (audio) god this was so good! so delightful! the House with its many rooms full of tides and clouds and birds and statues is a wonderful, magical yet melancholy setting, the narrator is kind & gentle & earnest, full of wonder and curiosity at the House and its mysteries (the contrast between the narrator’s and the Other’s attitude to the House... yes), the slow building up to the numerous reveals are just. very well done. the writing is lovely (did i almost cry about the albatross? yes) and chiwetel ejiofor is a great audio narrator. just all around lovely & the ending hits just right. 4.5/5

doomsday book, connie willis reading this book during lockdown #2.... a galaxy brain move i wouldn’t necessarily recommend. anyway this is set in a near future where time travel is used for historical research; oxford university is sending the young historian kivrin on the first mission to the middle ages (1320, which is perfectly safe, as far as medieval years go), but things go wrong and soon modern day oxford is under quarantine (ha. how wild. can you imagine.) and kivrin notices that some things are a bit off about where she is (spoiler it’s actually 1348 and y’all know what that means right... PLAGUE TIME). lots of people on goodreads found this slow and boring and while it is pretty damn slow (and for a world with time travel way too many plot points hinge on being unable to contact people by telephone), i found it riveting and uh dread-inducing throughout, but also really warm and immersive. adored this, was devastated at the end. even almost a month later i’m still in my feelings about it. 4.5/5

too loud a solitude, bohumil hrabal (tr. from czech by michael henry heim) a novella i intellectually appreciated but didn’t really love - the narrator works as a paper compactor in a nightmarish basement full of mice (that also get crushed by the hundreds) from where he imagines rat wars in the sewers but from where he also saves hundreds of books. it’s fascinating & well-written but as soon as it gets away from the nightmare paper-crushing basement, it just loses its appeal, especially when the narrator reminisces about his relationships to women (how to simultaneously put women on a pedestal and smear shit on them!!!). 3/5

i’m thinking of ending things, iain reid literary horror/thriller type book with a really intriguing first half, as a young woman is visiting her boyfriend’s parents for the first time while thinking of ending the relationship and things increasingly feel off (the parents are weird, there’s a picture on the wall that the boyfriend claims is him as a child, but is actually her, she gets weird voicemails from her own number). great sense of vague unease, very scary. then the second half kind of blows up the whole story in a way that i should theoretically find interesting but just found kind of underwhelming and not scary, especially since the ending then feels the need to spell it all out for you. 2/5

passing, nella larsen (reread) ugh this is brilliant and i almost don’t have anything to say about it so i’ll just summarise it i guess. it’s a novella about two black women in 1920s america, who knew each other as teenagers and who run into each other in a rooftop bar, where both of them are passing as white. irene finds out that clare is passing full-time, married to a white man who does not know that she is black, and although she strongly disapproves, she can’t help but be seduced (the queer subtext is strong here) into renewing their friendship, which begins to threaten her sense of stability and control. this book is pretty much pitch-perfect, has a lot of things to say about race, loyalty, what happens when categories we live by are threatened or destabilised, and is also just tight and elegantly written and. ugh. brilliant. 5/5

ring shout, p. djèlí clark an alternative history/fantasy book where the ku klux klan gets possessed by demons from another dimension and a group of black (and other marginalised) women (some men too) who are able to see these demons have to fight them from gaining more power through a showing of birth of a nation. note: the klan is still already evil without the demons, but their evil makes it easier for the demons to possess them. very cool concept, very cool setting, but i found the main character and some of the plot progression a little boring. 3/5

amberlough, lara elena donnelly (amberlough dossier #1) this is really just the nazi takeover of weimar berlin in an alternate world (literally... the denizens of the city of amberlough are amberlinians... the two epigraphs are from le carre and cabaret...), told thru an amberlinian spy (cyril) forced to work for the nazi-equivalent (the ospies), his secret cabaret mc/smuggling kingpin boyfriend (aristide), and rough-and-tumble sally bowles (cordelia). as such, it’s extremely my shit, although i will say that donnelly makes it a bit easy on herself by making the nazi parallel so very overt; the ospies’ ideology is not particularly detailed beyond ‘real fashy’ and wanting to unite four loosely federated states. it’s just.... a bit weaksauce, and while she does include an ethnic minority for the ospies to hate, this also doesn’t feel as fundamental to their ideology as it should. also cyril sucks. but these issues may be solved in the sequels & it was a lot of fun. also.... amazing cover. 3/5

the vanishing half, brit bennett very much in conversation with larsen’s passing, this is a 2020 historical novel about passing, colorism, and identity, in which desiree and stella, very light-skinned african american twins who grow up in a black town that values lightness very much, become separated when stella chooses to pass for white and marry a white man. the book is very immersive and engaging, and stella and desiree are interesting characters, but (i felt unfortunately) much of the book is focused on their daughters, whose chance meeting might expose stella/reunite the sisters/etc etc, but who weren’t as interesting. the plot also relies on coincidences a lot which is a bit annoying. still an interesting and entertaining read. 3/5

die stadt der anderen, anthology printed version of an art project where three pairs of authors were sent on trips through berlin, which each person writing about what the other person showed them and how they experienced the city through the other. there was nothing earth-shaking in this, but reading it during lockdown was lovely. in conclusion i love berlin... would love to experience it again some time. 3/5

the fire this time, edited by jesmyn ward collection of essays on anti-black racism in america, many in response to the beginning of the black lives matter movement. i don’t have much to say about it, but it is very good and i would recommend. as is often the case with essay anthologies about serious topics i don’t really think i can rate it.

intimations, zadie smith a very short collection of essays written during early lockdown. smith is always smart and fun but i wish these had been a little more focused on politics and less on personal experience, but like, you can’t really criticise a book for not being what you wanted it to be. ‘contempt as a virus’ was very good. 

superior: the return of race science, angela saini really solid, engaging and accessible discussion of race science and why... it’s bad & dangerous, both looking at race science in the past and the invention of race, and how it is returning and regaining influence (not to say that race science ever completely disappeared, but as saini explains, it moved into a more marginal space in the sciences after ww2). 3.5/5

the hive, camilo josé cela (tr. from spanish by j.m. cohen & arturo barea) spanish modern classic set in madrid during the last few years of ww2. told thru short fragmentary snippets with a huge rotating cast of characters, mostly lower and middle class, going about their days, with the theme tying them together being “the city, that tomb, that greased pole, that hive”, which is a very sexy line, but unfortunately it didn’t work for me. the tone is v dispassionate and in combination with the huge cast it just made me profoundly unengaged. it also has the weird habit of changing scene in the middle of a paragraph, which i found rather confusing. 2.5/5 slave old man, patrick chamoiseau (tr. from french by linda coverdale) absolutely amazing short novel from the creolité movement aabout an old slave, seemingly resigned to his position, suddenly escaping and being pursued by the slavemaster’s terrifying monstrous mastiff through the forests of martinique, but really also about selfhood, relearning humanity, trauma and nature. the language is at turns sparse and lush and always gorgeous and the translation from french/creole uses endnotes (we love an endnote) and a strategy of doubling to retain some of the original language, which was really cool to read. so yeah this is brilliant. 4/5

mexican gothic, silvia moreno-garcia gothic horror novel about young mexican socialite noemí visiting her recently-married cousin in her new (english) family’s isolated, creepy and dilapidated mansion after said cousin sent a disturbing and strange letter calling for help. gothic horror shenanigans involving vivid dreams, family secrets and eugenics ensue. after a slow start, i absolutely devoured the second half in one afternoon bc once it gets going it REALLY gets going. not super-scary, but a nice creepy atmosphere & reveal. also loved how it combines the clear yellow wallpaper inspo (the cousin’s letter involves people in the wallpaper) and the focus on the english family’s eugenic ideology (not a fun fact but charlotte perkins gilman was a eugenicist), and the vain & flighty but also smart & stubborn protagonist. had a lot of fun with this. 3.5/5

i’m also still reading a tale of love and darkness by amos oz which is really good but which is taking me forfuckingever. 

[tipsycad147]

Witch Trials - Witch Hunts

Johannes Junius

(The Burgomaster of Bamberg)

Written and compiled by George Knowles

In the early 17th century, the city of Bamberg, Germany was at the centre of some of the most vicious and prolific witch persecutions to take place during the whole 200-year history of the Burning Times.  The persecutions of witches in Bamberg began under the auspices of the Prince-Bishop Johann Gottfried von Aschhausen (1609-1622), who was responsible for the torture and deaths of some 400 alleged witches.  In one year alone 1617, 102 witches were accused, tortured, beheaded and burned.

When Prince-Bishop Gottfried Johann Georg II Fuchs von Dornheim (known as The Hexenbischof – The Witch Bishop) took over the diocese (1623-1633), witch-hunting and persecution reached new heights.  Von Dornheim was an unscrupulous man motivated by power and greed rather than religious zeal, and held little regard for the laws of the state particularly when it came to lining his own pockets.  Aided by his suffragan Bishop Friedrich Förner, they set up a secular council of Lawyers and expanded a network of informers to prey on the citizens of Bamberg.  Their job as Commissioners of Law was to try and condemn anyone accused of witchcraft, and more importantly to confiscate their wealth and property.

Prince-Bishop Fuchs von Dornheim

In 1627 Von Dornheim built a special Drudenhaus (a witch prison) containing torture chambers and cell-rooms for thirty to forty prisoners, he also built similar ones in the smaller towns of the province:  in Zeil, Hallstadt and Kronach.  In them he employed full-time torturers and executioners and equipped them with all the latest torture devices, including:  thumbscrews, leg-vices, racks, prayer stools fitted with sharp wooden pegs, stocks furnished with iron spikes, and perhaps the most severe and excruciating means of torture the strappado, often used with weights.

Drudenhaus (witch prison)

Other manual tortures employed included:  sleep deprivation, forced feeding and drinking, pricking, branding, alternating cold water baths and scalding water baths to which lime had been added, feathers dipped in burning sulphur and held under the armpits and groin, and rope friction - when wrapped around the head or neck caused excruciating pain and often cut into the bone.  Many other tortures were used so diabolical as to stretch the imagination.

The rack  -  Thumbscrew  -  The strappado was often used with weights

Torture in the Drudenhauses was the rule and vigorously applied to anyone unfortunate enough to be sent there, no one could resist confessing when subjected to the cruelty of their treatments.  In just three years between 1627 and 1630, Von Dornheim and his henchmen systematically interrogated and condemned over 600 alleged witches in Bamberg alone, and another 900 in the provinces.  No one safe during his reign of terror as he accused and executed some of the leading citizens of Bamberg, among his victims were the Chancellor - Dr. George Haan (together with his wife and daughter), the Treasurer - Wolfgang Hoffmeister and 5 district Burgomasters.

The last of the Burgomasters to be executed was Johannes Junius the Burgomaster of Bamberg, who had served in that capacity for the past 20 years. Shortly before his arrest in June 1628 his own wife had been executed as a witch, and so from that association and by being implicated by other victims of the witch-hunts, he too was arrested.  The court account of his trial is typical of the many thousands of witch-trials from the period, but what makes this trial different is a poignant hand-written letter Junius wrote to his daughter Veronica while awaiting his own execution.

The record of the trial of Burgomaster Johannes Junius

On Wednesday, June 28, 1628, was examined without torture Johannes Junius, Burgomaster at Bamberg, on the charge of witchcraft:  how and in what fashion he had fallen into that vice.  Is fifty-five years old, and was born at Niederwaysich in the Wetterau.  Says he is wholly innocent, knows nothing of the crime has never in his life renounced God:  says that he is wronged before God and the world, would like to hear of a single human being who has seen him at such gatherings (as the witch-sabbats).

Confrontation of Dr. Georg Adam Haan.  Tells him to his face he will stake his life on it (er wolle darauf leben und sterben) that he saw him, Junius, a year and a half ago at a witch-gathering in the electoral council-room, where they ate and drank. Accused denies the same wholly.

Confronted with a servant Ellse.  Tells him likewise that he was on Hauptsmorwald at a sabbat, but first the holy wafer was desecrated.  Junius denies.  Hereupon he was told that his accomplices had confessed against him and was given time for thought.

On Friday, June 30, 1628, the aforesaid Junius was again without torture exhorted to confess, but again confessed nothing; whereupon . . . since he would confess nothing, he was put to the torture, and first thumbscrews were applied.  Says he has never denied God his Saviour nor suffered himself to be otherwise baptised; will again stake his life on it; feels no pain in the thumbscrews.

Leg-vices (Beinschauben).  Will confess absolutely nothing; knows nothing about it.   He has never renounced God; will never do such a thing; has never been guilty of this vice.  Feels likewise no pain.

Is stripped and examined; on his right side is found a bluish mark, shaped like a trefoil, is thrice pricked without sensation or drawing blood.

Strappado.  He has never renounced God.  God will not forsake him.  If he were such a wretch he would not let himself be so tortured.  God must show some token of his innocence.  He knows nothing about witchcraft. . . .

On July 5, the above named Junius is without torture, but with urgent persuasions, exhorted to confess, and at last begins and confesses:

The Confession of Burgomaster Johannes Junius

When in the year 1624 his law-suit at Rothweil cost him some six hundred florins, he had gone out, in the month of August, into his orchard (Baumfeld) at Friedrichsbronnen; and, as he sat there in thought, there had come to him a woman like a grass-maid, who had asked him why he sat there so sorrowful.  He had answered that he was not despondent, but she had led him by seductive speeches to yield to her will. . . . And thereafter this wench had changed into the form of a goat, which bleated and said, “Now you see with whom you have had to do.  You must be mine or I will forthwith break your neck”.  Thereupon he had been frightened, and trembled all over for fear.  Than the transformed spirit had seized him by the throat, and demanded that he should renounce God Almighty, whereupon Junius said, “God help me”, " and thereupon the spirit vanquished through the power of these words.  Yet it came straightway back, brought more people with it, and persistently demanded of him that he renounce God in Heaven and all the heavenly host, by which terrible threatening he was obliged to speak this formula:  “I renounce God in Heaven and his host, and will henceforward recognise the Devil as my God”.

After the renunciation he was so far persuaded by those present and by the evil spirit that he suffered himself to be baptised by the devil in the evil spirit’s name.  The Morhauptin had given him a ducat as dower-gold, which afterwards became only a potsherd.

He was then named Krix.  His succubus was called Vixen (Füchsin).  Those present had congratulated him in Beelzebub’s name and said that they were now all alike.  At his baptism, among others, were the aforesaid Morhauptin Christiana, the young Geiserlin, Paul Glaser, Casper Wittich, and Claus Gebhard, who were both gardeners.  After this they had dispersed.

At this time, his paramour had promised to provide him with money, and from time to time to take him to the sabbats.

Whenever he wished to ride to the sabbat, a black dog would come to his bed, and tell him to come; whereupon he would mount it, and the dog would raise himself in the devil’s name and so fly off.

About two years ago, he was taken to the electoral council-room, at the left hand as one goes in.  Above, at a table, were seated the Chancellor, the Burgomaster Neudecker, Dr. George Haan, (and twenty-four others).  Since his eyes were not good, he could not recognise more persons.

More time for consideration was now given him.

On July 7, 1628, the aforesaid Junius was again examined, to know what further had occurred to him to confess.  He confesses that about two months ago, on the day after an execution was held, he was at a witch dance at the Black Cross, where Beelzebub had shown himself to them all and said expressly to their faces that they must all be burned together on this spot, and had ridiculed and taunted those present.  Names four more witches.

The Crimes of Burgomaster Johannes Junius

Immediately after his seduction, his succubus had demanded that he should make away with his youngest boy Hans Georg, and had given him a grey powder for this purpose; this, however, being too hard for him, he had made away with his brown horse, instead.

His succubus had also repeatedly urged him to kill his two daughters . . . and because he refused he had been beaten therefor.

Once, at the suggestion of his succubus, he had taken the holy wafer out of his mouth and given it to her.  Was obliged occasionally to have intercourse with his succubus.

A week before his arrest, as he was going to St. Martin’s church, the Devil met him on the way, in the form of a goat, and told him that he would soon he imprisoned, but that he should not trouble himself - he would soon set him free.  Besides this, by his soul’s salvation, he knew nothing further; but what he had spoken was the pure truth; on that he would stake his life.

On August 6, 1628, there was read to the aforesaid Junius this his confession, which he then wholly ratified and confirmed, and was willing to stake his life upon it.  And afterwards he voluntarily confirmed the same before the court.

Later that day on the 06th of August 1628, Johannes Junius was burned at the stake.

Such was the official end to the trial and execution of Johannes Junius, but not the end to this tragic story.  Before his execution, Junius was able to have a letter smuggled out of the Drudenhaus by one of his jailers, who for the price of a taler delivered it to his daughter Veronica.  In the letter he warns her to flee the city before she too is accused of witchcraft by similar implication and association.  The letter is a chilling first-hand account of the trial and torture he suffered while detained in the infamous Bamberg Drudenhaus.

The letter of Burgomaster Johannes Junius

July 24, 1628

Many hundred thousand good-nights, dearly beloved daughter Veronica.  Innocent have I come into prison, innocent have I been tortured, innocent must I die.  For whoever comes into the witch prison must become a witch or be tortured until he invents something out of his head and - God pity him - bethinks him of something.

I will tell you how it has gone with me.

When I was the first time put to the torture, my brother-in-law, Dr. Braun, Dr. Kotzendorffer, and two strange doctors were there.  Then Dr. Braun asks me; “Kinsman, how come you are here?”  I answer, “Through falsehood and through misfortune”. “Hear, you,” he retorts, “you are a witch.  Will you confess it voluntarily?  If not, we’ll bring in witnesses and the executioner for you”.  I said, “I am no witch; I have a pure conscience in the matter.  If there are a thousand witnesses, I am not anxious, but I'll gladly hear them”.

Then the Chancellor’s son was set before me, who said he had seen me.  I asked that he be sworn and legally examined, but Dr. Braun refused it.  Then the Chancellor, Dr. George Haan, was brought, who said the same as his son.  Afterward Höppfen Ellse.  She had seen me dance on Hauptsmorwald, but they refused to swear her in.  I said:  “I have never renounced God, and will never do it - God graciously keep me from it.  I’ll rather bear whatever I must”.

And then came also - God in highest Heaven have mercy - the executioner, and put the thumbscrews on me, both hands bound together, so that the blood spurted from the nails and everywhere, so that for four weeks I could not use my hands, as you can see from the writing.

Thereafter they stripped me, bound my hands behind me, and drew me up on the ladder.  Then I thought heaven and earth were at an end.  Eight times did they draw me up and let me fall again, so that I suffered terrible agony.  I said to Dr. Braun, “God forgive you for thus misusing an innocent and honourable man”.  He replied, “You are a knave”.

And this happened on Friday, June 30, and with God’s help I had to bear the torture.  When at last the executioner led me back into the cell, he said to me, “Sir, I beg you, for God’s sake, confess something, whether it be true or not.  Invent something, for you cannot endure the torture which you will be put to; and, even if you bear it all, yet you will not escape, not even if you were an earl, but one torture will follow another until you say you are a witch.  Not before that”," he said, “will they let you go, as you may see by all their trials, for one is just like another”.

Then came George Haan, who said the commissioners had said the Prince-Bishop wished to make such an example of me, that everybody would be astonished.

And so I begged, since I was in wretched plight, to be given one day for thought and a priest.  The priest was refused me, but the time for thought was given.  Now, my dearest child, see in what hazard I stood and still stand.  I must say that I am a witch, though I am not - must now renounce God, though I have never done it before.  Day and night I was deeply troubled, but at last there came to me a new idea.  I would not be anxious, but, since I had been given no priest with whom I could take counsel, I would myself think of something and say it.  It were surely better that I just say it with mouth and words, even though I had not really done it; and afterwards I could confess it to the priest, and let those answer for it who compel me to do it . . . And so I made my confession, as follows; but it was all a lie.

Now follows, dear child, what I confessed in order to escape the great anguish and bitter torture, which it was impossible for me longer to bear.

Such were the true events of his trial and torture leading up to his confession, which is very much as it appears given in the record of his trial.  The letter continues:

Then I had to tell what people I had seen (at the witch sabbat).  I said that I had not recognised them.  “You old knave, I must put the torturer at your throat.  Say - was not the Chancellor there?”  So I said yes.  “Who besides?”  I had not recognised anybody.  So he said:  “Take one street after another.  Begin at the market, go out on one street and back on the next”.  I had to name several persons there.  Then came the long street (die lange Gasse).  I knew nobody.  Had to name eight persons there.  Then the Zinkenwert - one person more.  Then over the upper bridge to the Georgthor, on both sides.  Knew nobody again.  Did I know nobody in the castle - whoever it might be, I should speak without fear.  And thus continuously they asked me on all the streets, though I could not and would not say more.  So they gave me to the torturer, told him to strip me, shave me all over, and put me to the torture.  “The rascal knows one on the market-place, is with him daily, and yet won’t name him”.  By this they meant Burgomaster Dietmeyer: so I had to name him too.

Then I had to tell what crimes I had committed. I said nothing. . . “Hoist the knave up!”  So I said that I was to kill my children, but I had killed a horse instead.  It did not help.  I had also taken a sacred wafer, and had buried it.  When I had said this, they left me in peace.

Now, dearest child, here you have all my acts and confession, for which I must die.  And they are sheer lies and inventions, so help me God.  For all this I was forced to say through dread of the torture beyond what I had already endured.  For they never leave off with the torture till one confesses something; be he ever so pious, he must be a witch.  Nobody escapes, though he were an earl.  If God send no means of bringing the truth to light, our whole kindred will be burned.  God in heaven knows that I know not the slightest thing. I die innocent and as a martyr.

Dear child, keep this letter secret, so that people do not find it, else I shall be tortured most piteously and the jailers will be beheaded.  So strictly is it forbidden. . . . Dear child, pay this man a thaler. . . . I have taken several days to write this: my hands are both crippled.  I am in a sad plight. . . .

Good night, for your father Johannes Junius will never see you more.

In the margin of the letter Junius added:

Dear child, six have confessed against me at once: the Chancellor, his son, Neudecker, Zaner, Hoffmaister Ursel, and Höppfen Ellse - all false, through compulsion, as they have all told me, and begged my forgiveness in God’s name before they were executed. . . . They know nothing but good of me.  They were forced to say it, just as I myself was.

What became of his daughter Veronica after 1628, nobody knows, but the letter survived, and was later found among the trial records of the period, preserved in the Bamberg achieves.

Johannes Junius was by know means the last person to undergo trial and torture in the Bamberg Drudenhaus, for the witch-hunts continued unchecked until 1630.  By that time knowledge of the unrelenting ruthlessness and cruelty of the Bamberg witch trials, and Von Dornheim’s constant disregard for the Emperor’s laws, arrests were commonly kept secret and no legal counsel provided for the victims, Emperor Ferdinand II acting under pressure requisitioned the Bamberg court records for examination.  As a result he ordered that all future accusations of witchcraft be made public, defendants to be allowed legal counsel, and the confiscation of their property to cease.

Greed and power had been the mainstay of the witch-trials in Bamberg more so than religious zeal, and no longer being able to confiscate the wealth and property of the accused, the witch hunts soon receded.  Only 24 victims were executed in 1630 and none in 1631.  This was helped in 1630 when the suffragan Bishop Friedrich Förner died in December that year.  Von Dornheim himself died in 1633 bringing an end to the cancerous growth of witch-hunting that had engulfed that part of Germany.  As to the notorious Drudenhaus, it was later demolished and reduced to rubble, and what remained of its building materials used in the construction of a monastery.

End

Sources:

The Encyclopedia of Witches &Witchcraft  - By Rosemary Ellen Guiley

The Encyclopedia of Witchcraft and Demonology - By Rossell Hope Robbins

http://exchristian.net/exchristian/2002/04/johannes-junius-letter-between-1618.php

http://www.summerlands.com/crossroads/remembrance/victims/jjunius.htm

http://www.dawnofthegeeks.com/cubia/index.php?page=Johannes_Junius

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johannes_Junius

http://history.hanover.edu/texts/bamberg.html

Written and compiled on the 14th December 2007  ©  George Knowles

https://www.controverscial.com/Johannes%20Junius.htm

[dawnfelagund]

Hi! I thought it was interesting that you mentioned becoming self-sufficient was very important to you. If you feel like sharing, I'd love to hear more about it!

Absolutely! I love talking about this topic but, since I’m aTolkien blogger, I assume my followers aren’t interested. But I’ll gladlyjabber on about sustainability and self-sufficiency for hours. (However, I’lltry not to actually write a post thattakes hours to read! ^_^)

Mr. Felagund and I are both millennials. We were both bornin 1981, which makes us oldmillennials, but the definition in recent years seems to have settled into arange that includes us. As such, we were beginning our lives as independentyoung adults right when George W. Bush was destroying the U.S. economy. Iremember when it was officially announced that the U.S. was in recession andbeing surprised that no one had realized that yet. We’d been suffering foryears: the usual borderline poverty that most young people endure when theyfirst move out on their own, compounded by the fact that unemployment was high,which employers took as license to underpay, overwork, and otherwise abusetheir employees.

We were both among those employees. For more than a year, Iwas led on by my employer to believe that my contractual position would be madepermanent if I helped him with the restructuring of the agency within I worked.He wasn’t very academically smart; I was, so when something needed to bewritten or created, I did it, although it was not in my job description and Iwas not being paid for it, in an attempt to secure a tiny bit more economicsecurity for my family. Probably needless to say, when the time came forpositions to be made permanent, my boss’s was and mine was not. My hours werealso cut 20% and my workload simultaneously increased due to the restructuringof our agency. At the same time, my husband was commuting two hours one-way toa good-paying job; he had to leave at 3AM to avoid Washington, DC, traffic, sohe had the choice of giving up his life to go to bed at the same time as aseven-year-old or to live on four or fewer hours of sleep. He chose the latterand became sick and depressed as a result. Like me, he was also a governmentemployee and, under Bush administration appointees, was more regularly beingexpected to support positions that intellectually and ethically he found to bewrong. We were both constantly fighting against our employers both in overt andin passive-aggressive ways. (I may have used work time to write an awful lot offan fiction and run the SWG, for example. >.>)

In the midst of this, it occurred to us that we had verylittle control over our lives. We were both being asked to do things regularlythat we found wrong or that made us physically or mentally unwell. We were bothbeing required to do work for which we were not being compensated. We werebeing forced into actions like crushingly long commutes that robbed us of ourlives outside of work. We could fight these indignities only at the risk oflosing our jobs during a recession, starting a domino effect of possibly losingour car and home, which would further jeopardize our ability to get a new job,and so the vicious cycle goes.

We decided this was not a life we wanted to live.

We’d followed the trajectory of correct adulthood: went tocollege and graduated tops of our respective classes, found professional jobs,moved into our own apartment, married each other, eventually bought a house. Werealized that the need to pay our bills forced us into a position where wecould be used however an employer wanted with little recourse because of fearof losing our home. So it seemed the first thing to do was to get rid of thebills.

The biggest was, of course, our mortgage. We lived inMaryland, currently the wealthiest state in the U.S. We lived in the hinterlands,not in the pricey Baltimore-DC corridor (which is why we had the longcommutes), but cost of living was still high. We decided our number-one goalneeded to be getting rid of our mortgage. You gain a lot of power when you havea home that cannot be taken away from you. Of course, no one tells you that youdon’t have to have a mortgage! The normal, correct adult life is depicted asthirty years working and thirty years paying back a bank for the roof over yourhead. Success is measured in the things you possess over those thirty years:nice cars, a house bigger than you need, regular upgrades to your wardrobe,fancy vacations, all the nicest and the latest things. It’s the “Youdeserve it!” culture that leads people to spend the better part of theirrent or mortgage on a watch or a handbag or tickets to a sporting event.Because if you put your earnings primarily toward securing a home for yourself,why would you work? And if you chose to keep working even if you didn’t need to,what power would an employer have to force you to do their bidding? I’mconvinced that these things are all connected.

So, to make a long story short, Mr. Felagund and I dedicatedourselves towards increasing our self-sufficiency so that we could walk awayfrom a job at any time without worrying about the consequences. We’ve sincemoved to Vermont, to a rural region where the cost of housing means that allthat we poured into our more costly home in Maryland means that we will nothave a mortgage. (Currently, we rent our house in Maryland to friends whoneeded a place to live on short notice right when we were moving last year, butwe will be putting it on the market in the next couple of weeks, and once itsells, our mortgage is gone.)

We’ve also dedicated ourselves to learning and practicing self-sufficiencyin other areas of our life to the extent that we can. Since we both workfull-time, we can never do all that we want to, but we’ve accumulated a lot ofskills over the last ten years so that we could live much moreself-sufficiently if we had to.

First, we learned how to produce our own food. We flew bythe seat of our pants in our first garden, but we made mistakes and learnedfrom them. When I left the job I mentioned above to freelance write for a yearwhile finishing my teaching certification, I wrote about sustainability and, inthe process,  studied plant and soilscience. We began a concerted effort to improve our soil in Maryland. (We livedin the foothills of the Appalachians, so our soil was clay and rocky.) We bothtook classes at our local agricultural extension office and went to conferencesabout sustainable agriculture. We had less than an acre in Maryland, but webegan to use what little space we had for growing food. We put in fruit trees, asparagus,strawberries, perennial herbs, and brambles. By the time we moved, we were ableto grow much of our own food.

Mr. Felagund converted an old, disintegrating shed on ourproperty into a chicken coop, and we always kept around ten hens for eggs. (Wedidn’t raise meat birds in Maryland because we lived in a residentialneighborhood, and slaughtering chickens in our backyard would perhaps drawunwanted negative attention from our neighbors; we always did try to be goodneighbors with respect to our various little projects.) We also took amonth-long course in beekeeping and kept one or two colonies of honeybees.

Both of us learned to cook from scratch. We were both raisedwhere “cooking” was dumping in ramen and a flavor packet into boilingwater, or emptying a can of condensed soup and pouring in an equal amount ofmilk. We sometimes laugh over how, when we first got married, we wouldcelebrate special occasions by buying a frozen pizza and jazzing it up with allkinds of special toppings. But I think it’s important to recognize theimportance of small steps and not to feel the need to go overnight frommicrowave dinners to baking your own bread from scratch and pressure canningyour excess meat and beans. It took us years to go from the special pizza stageto being able to feed ourselves from stuff we grew or raised and a few staples.Mr. Felagund is the better cook, so he has learned how to make things like breadand preserve any extras we grow.

Now that we live in Vermont, we are hoping to expand our small-agoperations yet again. We have our first clutch of chicks growing up right now.They will provide us with eggs, and we are now able to raise meat birds withoutworrying about neighbors. We have three turkeys on the way in June. We hope toadd dairy goats or even a cow within the next couple of years so that we’llhave a source of milk and cheese. And Mr. Felagund has started fishing(although he hasn’t caught anything edible yet!) and wants to learn to hunt.We’re both hoping to study more deeply of wild foraging.

Next is independence in terms of energy and other resources.We already have well water and a septic system. We are hoping to soon invest insolar panels on our roof; we have a south-facing house that would be ideal. (Wecurrently use all renewable energy, but again, one of the goals is to reduceour bills as much as possible, even though the electricity bill in a house thissmall is negligible.) We heat our home primarily with wood pellets, which isgood in some ways compared to a regular woodstove (it’s far easier to use and much less messy!) but less than ideal asfar as self-sufficiency goes since this isn’t something we can produceourselves.

Also important to us is strengthening the self-sufficiencyof our community. It always amazes me that people don’t worry when most oftheir food is imported from places nowhere near where they live. What do theythink they will do if a natural or other disaster interrupted the constantdelivery of food from far-flung places?

In Maryland, we had relationships with a number of farmerswho raised and grew what we could not. We are building those relationships nowin Vermont. For example, we don’t tap our maple trees for syrup (yet!),but Mr.Felagund knows quite a few people who do, so he barters for maple syrup, whichwe can use as an all-purpose sweetener to limit the amount of (imported) sugarwe must buy. We’ve found sources for the animal products we can’t or areunwilling to raise. (Mr. Felagund is forbidden from owning a pig, for example,because he has a soft heart and would become attached.)

We want people inour community to be doing things that are useful to our community, and we want our money to go toward supportingour neighbors rather than a corporate office a thousand miles away. This is anargument Mr. Felagund and I have constantly with our Walmart-obsessed families:savings at the cash register often mask more costly losses to a community wherepeople cannot find good work that pays good wages. We are very fortunate inVermont; almost everything we need as far as food is produced by someone inVermont (often the Northeast Kingdom, where we live) or nearby (like Maine orsouthern Quebec), and even our supermarkets sell local products. Big box storeshaven’t taken over here, so we can buy other necessities from local businessesrather than relying on Target and Home Depot (and having our money flowconstantly out of our community as a result).

In general, we try to avoid buying things, especially disposable things. We’re not obsessive about it,but we use things like cloth napkins to avoid cluttering the landfill withpointless trash. We compost food scraps and much of our paper waste. We have developed a flavored seltzer habitsince moving to Vermont (and my husband can’t resist Vermont beer!) so we dohave a lot of recycling, but everyone’s allowed one sin, right? ^_^ We’ve alsoworked to unlearn the cultural mindset that success, happiness, andaffection/love are represented by material things. This is deeply ingrained andhard to unlearn. When we moved from our house in Maryland, we were both shockedby the amount of stuff we had accumulated over the years and had to give away.(We live in a single-wide trailer in Vermont which is roughly half the size asour house in Maryland, which had a basement, i.e., a clutter pit.) It wasembarrassing: stuff we’d bought and used maybe once or even never, that we’dwasted money on for no reason.

For us, self-sufficiency is more a process than adestination. It’s possible to go entirely off the grid, but really that’s notthe objective for us. Instead, we never again want our lives to be governed byan employer’s (or anyone else’s!) convenience or to feel we have to choosebetween doing the right thing and having a roof over our heads. We both teachhere and both adore our jobs–I love my school so much that I even love the wayit smells when I walk in every morning!–and I hope to have a long teachingcareer here. But were things to change–and under the current presidentialadministration, one has to worry about that in a public school–I like havingthe power to walk away rather than being forced to do something I completelydisagree with (e.g., teaching to standardized tests versus critical thinkingskills and global citizenship, or denying services to students withdisabilities, as our Secretary of Education would like to see done). So we’vededicated ourselves to doing as much as we can on our own, to always improvingand doing better in terms of our obligations to protect and care for the Earth, and most importantly, to learning skills that maybe we’re notalways using at a particular moment in time but could use if the need arose. Over the course of years, it’s justbecome life: weird or fascinating to some people but just our life as we’vegotten used to living it.

[beeezie]

Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon

banner by a muffin @thedarkartsnet

A burst of white-hot flames shot out of the dragon’s nostrils, and despite the dozen-odd metres that separated Padma Patil from their source, she felt the beads of sweat gathering across her forehead as the heat hit her No matter how long you worked with dragons, you never quite got used to that kind of heat. At least, that was what Rachael Codnor had told her before she’d transferred out to join Werewolf Capture, and nothing in the four years since Padma had joined Dragon Research had contradicted that. However, despite the sweat dripping uncomfortably down the back of her neck, there was nowhere in the world that Padma would rather be.

The Welsh Green let out another snort, but continued to slumber peacefully. Padma approached it cautiously. It had been given a powerful sleeping potion along with its goat that morning, but you could never tell how those would work on any given day, because effectiveness of the potion differed depending on a wide variety of factors that Dragon Research was only just beginning to identify. They’d had a Horntail drop dead the year before from a dose that a Ridgeback just two weeks before had been able to completely ignore. Unraveling that mystery alone would have been enough to keep a person occupied for at least a year. Stunners were much more reliable, but on the balance, Padma much preferred sleeping potions in situations like this. The added risks weren’t really that high – not with a dozen other members of the Research Bureau right behind her – and stunners had a nasty tendency to leave a dragon more vicious and tense for days. Better to risk the damn burns. When she exited the holding pen ten minutes later holding several vials of dragon’s blood, she headed straight for the lab. She heard a roar echo from behind her, and when she turned back toward the pen, she saw bright red flames leaping into the sky. She made a note to get the branch they were licking a bit too close for comfort to taken down – no one needed another forest fire – and felt a smile spread across her face. She’d finished up just in time. She usually did. Padma stopped at the door of the lab and took a deep breath. The scent of the pine trees that still peppered the landscape of Dragon Research’s base of operations and the warmth of the midday sun flooded her senses, and she closed her eyes, enjoying every moment of it. How anyone could stand to work inside the dense, stifling walls of the Ministry of Magic would always be beyond her. She slipped inside the building. As she pulled the door shut behind her, she blinked several times to adjust to relative dimness of the room. “Hey, Padma,” she heard a voice call, and looked to the left. Su was sitting at a table by the windows, enjoying her lunch. Padma made her way past the racks of vials, the carefully-labeled shelves that were stuffed to the brim with books and scrolls, and the scale models of the Romanian Longhorn, Scottish Bluetip, and Antipodean Opaleye to join her coworker. When she laid the vials down carefully, Su’s eyes immediately went to them. “Those the Welsh Green?” Padma nodded, and Su went back to her sandwich with a vigour that Padma found almost alarming. She chose not to comment, though. Everyone in Dragon Research had been working hard lately, but no one had been working as hard as Su, as evidenced by the bags under her eyes and the cracks in her hands from spending too much time in the cold. When Su swung her leg over her seat and got to her feet, however, she looked as agile as ever. Dragon Research had been very, very busy lately. A resurgence in the incidence and virulence of dragon pox in the wizarding population was highly concerning, especially since there had been cases before where the disease had, through dark magic, become resistant to the cure. They were fairly certain that there wasn’t dark magic causing the problems now, and the disease had spread more across mainland Europe than into Great Britain. However, there was still something decidedly odd about the whole thing, and Dragon Research was determined to get to the bottom of it. For one thing, the safety of the British wizarding populace was at stake. For another, there were far too many former Ravenclaws in Dragon Research to let such an interesting puzzle pass them by. And if there was one thing that every Healer and Dragon Researcher knew, it was that new forms of dragon pox always started in dragons. Su snatched the vials off the table and Padma followed her to the other end of the room. “Damn Ministry is trying to stick their noses in again,” Su said as she placed the vials on her research table. “What, with the dragon pox?” Su made a face and nodded as she pulled her thick, silky black hair back. “They don’t want to look weak or negligent,” she said in a mocking tone as she began to rifle through some papers. “Someone should tell them that dragons aren’t the same thing as dark wizards.” Padma shook her head as she turned to her work station. “Well, if you have any sway with the Minister, now’s the time to use it.” Su snorted. “Nah, the only people he’s got time for are the damned Aurors.” She snapped her fingers. “Hold on, speaking of Aurors—” Padma crossed her arms and waited expectantly as Su pointed her wand in the direction of the perpetually-unoccupied desk by the doorway. “Accio letter!” A letter zoomed across the room and into Su’s hand, and she handed it over to Padma. “Letter from your sister. It got here while you were in with the Fireball.” Padma took it curiously; it wasn’t like Parvati to send letters to her at work. When she opened it, she found a cryptic, two line note jotted hastily in her sister’s thin script. Padma – Hope your workday is going well. Need to talk to you immediately. Parvati Padma blew out her breath and glanced up at the clock. It was nearing one. She’d gone in to work with the fireball at half-past 10. She came to a decision and turned to Su “I need to take the rest of today off. Cover for me?” Su nodded, looking a bit taken aback. “Everything okay?” Padma looked back down at the letter. “I don’t know.” The thought of stepping foot into the crowded, closed atrium made her wrinkle her nose in disgust. “Hey, Padma.” She looked back up at Su, who had a gleeful smile on her face. “What’s the difference between a first-year and the Minister of Magic?” Padma an answering grin spread across her own face. “The first-year knows not to wear white around a Catalonian Fireball.”

Padma theoretically worked for the British Ministry of Magic. That is, they paid her salary, and usually had the good sense to leave well enough alone. In return, she almost never went in the place. Because whatever the Ministry thought it knew about dark wizards – and given her circle of friends, Padma had to admit that they did know something about that – the Ministry was absolutely hopeless when it came to dragons. As she entered the atrium, she couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose at the sterile environment and the dozens of people rushing through it, intent on getting done with what Padma could only assume was anything but time-sensitive assignments. As Padma made her way past the new, gleaming fountains that inevitably put her in the mind of dragon treasure, a blond woman bumped into her and continued on without so much as a muttered, “Excuse me.” She approached the lifts, grateful for once for her technical status as a Ministry employee. The line at the security stand would have probably taken at least half an hour, and she wanted to get out of this claustrophobic environment as quickly as possible. As the lift’s doors closed, she slumped against the wall and closed her eyes. It jerked violently, and she groaned. Between the stale air, the artificial ceilings, and the lifts that never failed to made her stomach turn, the British Ministry of Magic was one of her least favorite places in the entire world. There was a reason she had chosen to work with dragons. As seen as the doors opened again, she rushed into the hallway. From now on, she took the damn stairs. Of course, things with her sister could never be simple. Despite the owl that had stressed urgency, Parvati was nowhere to be found, and no one in the Auror office had any idea where she might be. Suppressing the desire to strangle her sister once she managed to find her, Padma re-entered the lift and made her way back up to the Dangerous Creatures Bureau. Mercifully, Seamus was in his office, though he appeared to be deep in conversation with Harry. She was about to stick her head in when she heard a deep voice that she knew belonged to neither of her former yearmates. When she neared the door, she saw Shacklebolt leaning against one of the walls. Padma slumped into a seat at one of the desks across from the office. If it had just been Harry, she would have had no qualms about interrupting. However, even she knew better than to interrupt the Minister of Magic. “Hey, Padma,” she heard a voice say, and looked up just in time to see Lavender Brown sliding into a chair at the desk across from her. “What are you doing here?” It took Padma a moment to recover. She still wasn’t used to seeing Lavender’s face - after being attacked during the Battle of Hogwarts, she’d spent a year in St. Mungo’s refusing to talk and then a couple years in a flat refusing to leave or answer the door to almost anyone. She’d made significant steps since then, but she still tended to avoid social occasions that weren’t limited to Parvati and/or Seamus. “Looking for my sister,” she said after a moment. “Do you know what was so urgent?” “Oh, well.” Lavender smiled. “You know Parvati.” She jerked her head toward the door. When Padma leaned over, she could see Shacklebolt making his way down the hall with Harry. She jumped up. “Nice talking to you,” she said to Lavender, and darted across the hall to Seamus’s office. She did not wand to spend a second longer in this place than she had to. At the sound of her knock, Seamus looked up. His face immediately took on a look of surprise. “Padma. What are you doing here?” “Parvati sent an owl saying that she needed to speak to me, and that it was urgent.” Padma glanced around the small office, hoping that perhaps her sister would be hiding in one of the corners. Unfortunately, she had no such luck; other than a table with a large map spread across it, the desk Seamus was seated at, and several chairs, the room was completely bare. “Do you know where she is? Or what it was about?” Her brother-in-law groaned. “Unfortunately, yes. The baby is a girl. She has a list of names.” Padma stared at him incredulously. “That’s it?” Her sister was months away from giving birth. Naming her child was hardly a pressing matter. “That’s it.” Padma stared at him for another minute. “Tell her— tell her to buy a goddamned dictionary, so she can learn what the word urgent means. And tell her that I went back to work.” “Will do.” He looked down at a letter on his desk, and Padma stalked out the room, inwardly fuming. The baby’s name? That was urgent? It was things like this that reminded Padma why her sister had been a Gryffindor rather than a Ravenclaw. She was just so damned impatient. “Gryffindors are the worst,” she muttered. “They are the absolute worst.”

[dfroza]

Today’s reading in the ancient book of Proverbs and Psalms

for Thursday, july 30 of 2020 with Proverbs 30 and Psalm 30 accompanied by Psalm 41 for the 41st day of Summer and Psalm 62 for day 212 of the year

[Proverbs 30]

These are the collected sayings of the prophet Agur, Jakeh’s son—

the amazing revelation he imparted to Ithiel and Ukal.

God, I’m so weary and worn out,

I feel more like a beast than a man.

I was made in your image,

but I lack understanding.

I’ve yet to learn the wisdom

that comes from the full and intimate knowledge of you,

the Holy One.

[Six Questions]

Who is it that travels back and forth

from the heavenly realm to the earth?

Who controls the wind as it blows and holds it in his fists?

Who tucks the rain into the cloak of his clouds?

Who stretches out the skyline from one vista to the other?

What is his name?

And what is the name of his Son?

Who can tell me?

[A Pure Heart Is Filled with God’s Word]

Every promise from the faithful God

is pure and proves to be true.

He is a wrap-around shield of protection for all his lovers

who run to hide in him.

Never add to his words,

or he will have to rebuke you and prove that you’re a liar.

God, there are two things I’m asking you for before I die, only two:

Empty out of my heart everything that is false—

every lie, and every crooked thing.

And give me neither undue poverty nor undue wealth—

but rather, feed my soul with the measure of prosperity

that pleases you.

May my satisfaction be found in you.

Don’t let me be so rich that I don’t need you

or so poor that I have to resort to dishonesty

just to make ends meet.

Then my life will never detract from bringing glory to your name.

Never defame a servant before his master,

for you will be the guilty one

and a curse will come upon you.

There is a generation rising that curses their fathers

and speaks evil of their mothers.

There is a generation rising that considers themselves

to be pure in their own eyes,

yet they are morally filthy, unwashed, and unclean.

There is a generation rising that is so filled with pride

they think they are superior and look down on others.

There is a generation rising that uses their words like swords

to cut and slash those who are different.

They would devour the poor, the needy, and the afflicted

from off the face of the earth!

There are three words to describe the greedy:

“Give me more!”

There are some things that are never satisfied.

Forever craving more, they’re unable to say, “That’s enough!”

Here are four:

The grave, yawning for another victim,

the barren womb, ever wanting a child,

thirsty soil, ever longing for rain,

and a raging fire, devouring its fuel.

They’re all insatiable.

The eye that mocks his father and dishonors his elderly mother

deserves to be plucked out by the ravens of the valley

and fed to the young vultures!

[Four Mysteries]

There are four marvelous mysteries

that are too amazing to unravel—

who could fully explain them?

The way an eagle flies in the sky,

the way a snake glides on a boulder,

the path of a ship as it passes through the sea,

and the way a bridegroom falls in love with his bride.

Here is the deceptive way of the adulterous woman:

she takes what she wants and then says,

“I’ve done nothing wrong.”

[Four Intolerable Things]

There are four intolerable events

that are simply unbearable to observe:

when an unfaithful servant becomes a ruler,

when a scoundrel comes into great wealth,

when an unfaithful woman marries a good man,

and when a mistress replaces a faithful wife.

[Four Creatures Small and Wise]

The earth has four creatures that are very small but very wise:

The feeble ant has little strength,

yet look how it diligently gathers its food in the summer

to last throughout the winter.

The delicate rock-badger isn’t all that strong,

yet look how it makes a secure home, nestled in the rocks.

The locusts have no king to lead them,

yet they cooperate as they move forward by bands.

And the small lizard is easy to catch

as it clings to the walls with its hands,

yet it can be found inside a king’s palace.

[Four Stately Things]

There are four stately monarchs

who are impressive to watch as they go forth:

the lion, the king of the jungle, who is afraid of no one,

the rooster strutting boldly among the hens,

the male goat out in front leading the herd,

and a king leading his regal procession.

If you’ve acted foolishly by drawing attention to yourself,

or if you’ve thought about saying something stupid,

you’d better shut your mouth.

For such stupidity may give you a bloody nose!

Stirring up an argument only leads to an angry confrontation.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 30 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 30]

A David Psalm

I give you all the credit, God—

you got me out of that mess,

you didn’t let my foes gloat.

God, my God, I yelled for help

and you put me together.

God, you pulled me out of the grave,

gave me another chance at life

when I was down-and-out.

All you saints! Sing your hearts out to God!

Thank him to his face!

He gets angry once in a while, but across

a lifetime there is only love.

The nights of crying your eyes out

give way to days of laughter.

When things were going great

I crowed, “I’ve got it made.

I’m God’s favorite.

He made me king of the mountain.”

Then you looked the other way

and I fell to pieces.

I called out to you, God;

I laid my case before you:

“Can you sell me for a profit when I’m dead?

auction me off at a cemetery yard sale?

When I’m ‘dust to dust’ my songs

and stories of you won’t sell.

So listen! and be kind!

Help me out of this!”

You did it: you changed wild lament

into whirling dance;

You ripped off my black mourning band

and decked me with wildflowers.

I’m about to burst with song;

I can’t keep quiet about you.

God, my God,

I can’t thank you enough.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 30 (The Message)

[Psalm 41]

A David Psalm

Dignify those who are down on their luck;

you’ll feel good—that’s what God does.

God looks after us all,

makes us robust with life—

Lucky to be in the land,

we’re free from enemy worries.

Whenever we’re sick and in bed,

God becomes our nurse,

nurses us back to health.

I said, “God, be gracious!

Put me together again—

my sins have torn me to pieces.”

My enemies are wishing the worst for me;

they make bets on what day I will die.

If someone comes to see me,

he mouths empty platitudes,

All the while gathering gossip about me

to entertain the street-corner crowd.

These “friends” who hate me

whisper slanders all over town.

They form committees

to plan misery for me.

The rumor goes out, “He’s got some dirty,

deadly disease. The doctors

have given up on him.”

Even my best friend, the one I always told everything

—he ate meals at my house all the time!—

has bitten my hand.

God, give grace, get me up on my feet.

I’ll show them a thing or two.

Meanwhile, I’m sure you’re on my side—

no victory shouts yet from the enemy camp!

You know me inside and out, you hold me together,

you never fail to stand me tall in your presence

so I can look you in the eye.

Blessed is God, Israel’s God,

always, always, always.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 41 (The Message)

[Psalm 62]

Unshakable Faith

To the Pure and Shining One

King David’s melody of love’s celebration

I stand silently to listen for the one I love,

waiting as long as it takes for the Lord to rescue me.

For God alone has become my Savior.

He alone is my safe place;

his wrap-around presence always protects me.

For he is my champion defender;

there’s no risk of failure with God.

So why would I let worry paralyze me,

even when troubles multiply around me?

But look at these who want me dead,

shouting their vicious threats at me!

The moment they discover my weakness

they all begin plotting to take me down.

Liars, hypocrites, with nothing good to say.

All of their energies are spent

on moving me from this exalted place.

Pause in his presence

I am standing in absolute stillness, silent before the one I love,

waiting as long as it takes for him to rescue me.

Only God is my Savior, and he will not fail me.

For he alone is my safe place.

His wrap-around presence always protects me

as my champion defender.

There’s no risk of failure with God!

So why would I let worry paralyze me,

even when troubles multiply around me?

God’s glory is all around me!

His wrap-around presence is all I need,

for the Lord is my Savior, my hero, and my life-giving strength.

Join me, everyone! Trust only in God every moment!

Tell him all your troubles and pour out your heart-longings to him.

Believe me when I tell you—he will help you!

Pause in his presence

Before God all the people of the earth, high or low,

are like smoke that disappears,

like a vapor that quickly vanishes away.

Compared to God they’re nothing but vanity, nothing at all!

The wealth of the world is nothing to God.

So if your wealth increases, don’t be boastful or

put your trust in your money.

And don’t you think for a moment that

you can get away with stealing by overcharging others

just to get more for yourself!

God said to me once and for all,

“All the strength and power you need flows from me!”

And again I heard it clearly said,

“All the love you need is found in me!”

And it’s true that you repay people for what they do.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 62 (The Passion Translation)

[doomedandstoned]

Doomsday Profit Stir Up Ire & Fire: ‘In Idle Orbit’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

Artwork by Hypnotist Design

I swear, the doom keeps getting better just as the last leaves abandon their post and omens of winter swell into sight. It's one of the reasons I refuse to make my Editor's Choice list until I've paid attention to what November and December have to offer.

One band that got tuned right into their signal was DOOMSDAY PROFIT. Bryan Reed (vox, guitar), Kevin See (guitar), Ryan Sweeny (bass), and Tradd Yancey (drums -- also with Crystal Spiders) hail from Raleigh. Their style taps into a caustic current of irradiated sludge, southern blues, and downtuned devastation, making them right at home in playlists with Buzzov*en, Demonic Death Judge, Bongzilla, Hollow Leg, and others I'll mention later.

Before us: a collection of dark hymns. Doomsday Profit aptly characterizes the record as a "meditation in anger." I confess, I didn't read the credits for 'Into Idle Orbit' (2021) on first listen, but it certainly explains why each song feels so different from its fellows. There's a definite spiritual and stylistic link between these tracks, however. You might think of them as vignettes, snap-shots taken at deeply affecting moments along the grueling pandemic timeline. For many, illusions of a great future folded like a windswept flyer for yet another closed venue.

You suffer endless days Idle in isolation I profit from your pain Fed fat on your starvation

"Crown of Flies" begins this parade of six misfits with a southern-fried, acid-soaked doom riff, joined by a pummeling fusion of throbbing beats, thumping bass, and a voice that froths like a mad dog. This hard-charging number flips me right into a contorted headbanging mode absolutely everytime I hear it. It's vicious, man. The focused pace would be enough to keep me happy for a while, but the song surprises with a frantic thrash interlude that helps to work out all that anxious energy. It then returns to grind some more on that gritty central theme, busting out crooning guitar solo.

In cryptic visions I see through the haze The future’s written By this pungent blaze

On we trod to "Scryers of the Smoke," which takes on a determined stride comparable to Dopethrone's "Dry Hitter" or High on Fire's "Death is this Communion." All three songs share a certain hypnotic mood. Each section of the song comes to a singular point of satisfaction: Abandon Hope! Abandon Hope! Abandon Hope! Abandon Hope!  Those four simple words and the chant they belong to are used sparingly, saved for the most effective moments of the song -- but they are all worth waiting for.

Now I know It's time to die Gluttony The host sucked dry

"Cestoda" tunes down for sad reflection.This isn't funeral doom, so much as its swamp-dwelling sludge equivalent. This is what having a bad day sounds like in the sonic realm. Not merely bummed out, but morose; ever nearer to the euphemistic "end of the rope." Kevin See's guitar is on the ideal wavelength for devastating sadness, especially in the song's final ticks where his instinct for leads scores right up there with Mike Scheidt of Yob. See can take a melody and make it soar transcendentally. The Ryan Sweeney-Tradd Yancey rhythm section is on-point throughout the song. Yancey's thundering drums mimic a heartbeat in the throes of slow panic, as last resorts are contemplated.

Bones turned to sludge Flesh gone to filth Putrescent oil

"Consume The Remains" picks up the pace and almost sounds like something I'd encounter on Welcome To Sky Valley (maybe something Kyuss jammed late into the night after the fifth day of no sleep and dimensioning levels of dopamine). It's got a nice rock beat, but with enough low-end to make it sound like it belongs somewhere in the borough of Prong and Ministry, and definitely in the lyrical neighborhood of the latter. Sweeny gets some extended spotlight for that gorgeously irradiated bass tone around minute three. I'm basking in the hypnotic soundscape, which has been joined by See with a Near-Eastern guitar tone.

Destroy the myths of their fathers Erase the family name Tear down their false idols Until nothing remains

"Destroy the Myths" is (if you'll forgive me) what Static-X might have sounded like if dextromethorphan had been their drug of choice. It's the most interesting juxtaposition of Weedeater-style hillbilly sludge with a strict, almost military beat that I find also draws me into a strange amalgamation of Joy Division and Helmet, but with boss vocals like the late Wayne Static that can be pleasingly harsh in a way most metal fans can vibe with. Elsewhere, Bryan Reed takes on a smokier character, on par with Dopethrone's Vincent Houde.

With that, we're already near the end of the record. "Bring Out Your Dead" is a late-into-the-night desert farewell. It's dark, it's bittersweet, it's eerie, chock full of fuzzy bass and plaintive blues guitar. Desert metal is what this is. Some will call it psychedelic, and that's just alright with me. The song fades into fluttering ashes, taken hither and thither by the cold twilight air. This is the frayed and frazzled kin to Electric Wizard's "Return Trip," but a whole lot smokier (making me think of one of those ethereal past-closing moments in a jazz club, despite it taking me suddenly and straight to sober at its finish. Those entrancing final seconds (worthy of Beyond The Black Rainbow) trance me out as I stoically consider The Great Oblivion.

We get our EPs worth and then some on In Idle Orbit, which brings into focus the strong emotions we've endured lo these pair of twisted, anxious years in which the pressure has been on more-or-less continually. I genuinely look forward to following Doomsday Profit's development as we move ever nearer (fingers crossed) to a post-pandemic world. What have we learned about ourselves, the nature of our relationships and jobs, the ridiculously chaotic pace of contemporary life, the meaning of it all?

I'm certain the band will not disappoint us, while continuing to surprise and challenge us. How's that for raised expectations! The heat it on, boys. But don't mind me, I'm writing while high. As Bill Goodman and pals at The Soda Shop would always say, "Here's a new band to burn one to." Look for the release of Doomsday Profit's In Idle Orbit on cassette and compact disc (pre-order here), along with full digital release this weekend, November 12th. In the meanwhile, Doomed & Stoned is pleased to present it to you in its entirety for this world premiere!

Give ear...

In Idle Orbit by Doomsday Profit

Some Buzz

Like the blind oracles of legend, the North Carolina acid-sludge quartet Doomsday Profit offers a dark vision of an even darker future. Of course, after watching the past years’ collision of natural catastrophe, political unrest, and the ruthless culling brought about by COVID-19, one needn’t be clairvoyant to surmise what lies in store for humanity.

Into this desolate present, Doomsday Profit emerges, offering its meditation in anger, In Idle Orbit. The debut EP floods its dystopian visions with snarling psychedelic grit and deep-dredged sludge riffs that calls to mind the relentless pummeling of Conan, as well as the cosmic excursions of Earthless; the bad-trip acid-rock of Church of Misery, as well as the scuzzy blues of Dopethrone.

Perhaps there’s something vile in the hog-pond tainted North Carolina waters. Connoisseurs of all things slow-and-low might draw comparisons to fellow Tar Heel acts such as Sourvein, Weedeater, or Toke, but rather than draw inspiration from a coastal existence, Doomsday Profit reflects their life in the Triangle region of North Carolina — an intellectual, commercial, and political hub of the state. It’s a region of sprawl and gentrification, where the South’s dark history festers beneath the promise of technocratic futurism, and where the scars of the past are painted over with the false promise of salvation through innovation.

But for all its apocalyptic nihilism, Doomsday Profit doesn’t shy from accessibility. Writing about the band’s 2020 demo, Abandon Hope, Riff Finder Reviews noted, “For as dirty and raw as this is, it actually has quite a bit of melody to it." The melodic aspects of Doomsday Profit caught the ear of Sleeping Village Reviews’ Ian Corse, as well. “There is so damn much here to love,” Corse wrote in a review on Bandcamp. “From the head-bopping fuzzy riffage, to the harsh shrieks, to the psych tinges, to the seemingly omnipresent sense of melody.”

Doomsday Profit’s keen balance of heavy sludge with proto-metal groove and psychedelic spaciousness seems like a natural outgrowth of its members’ varied influences and experiences. Guitarist and vocalist Bryan Reed is a long-time music journalist whose specialization in punk, hardcore, and all strains of metal reveals itself in primitive, monolithic riffs, and a harsh, barking vocal style. Lead guitarist Kevin See is an experienced sideman whose resume includes jaunts with classic rock, Americana and jam bands, and whose affection for classic songcraft and freewheeling improvisation fuels his evocative and melodic soloing. Bassist Ryan Sweeney is a veteran of independent radio, who showcases the wide world of rock ‘n’ roll and psychedelic music on his weekly “Global Garage” show on Hillsborough, North Carolina’s community station WHUP. And, finally, drummer Tradd Yancey — also of the acclaimed stoner-rock duo Crystal Spiders — drives the band with a heavy, swinging style honed over years of musical training and cross-genre gigging.

All of these elements coalesce on In Idle Orbit. From the hazy end-times vision of “Scryers of the Smoke” to the monolithic and mournful “Cestoda,” the EP builds a sturdy bedrock of riff-driven groove, but never lets blind riff-worship stand in the way of dynamics or songcraft. “Consume The Remains” merges desert-rock groove with death ‘n’ roll bile, while “Crown of Flies” serves Southern-fried sludge with a side of blackened blues.

The EP’s inspirations may well spell doom for humanity, but for Doomsday Profit, the future looks, perhaps ironically, quite promising.

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