#but in earlier chapters we see him using it for WIND TECHNIQUES | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fannish-karmiya · 3 years

Text

Is Wei Wuxian's Cultivation Actually Harmful to Him?

Throughout Wei Wuxian’s first life, he frequently argues with Lan Wangji over his cultivation. Lan Wangji believes that his cultivation will harm him and eventually destroy him, while Wei Wuxian insists that he has everything under control. Many readers take Lan Wangji’s warnings at face value, leading to the common fandom perception that demonic cultivation (more accurately, the ghost path) is inherently harmful to Wei Wuxian and that he should indeed give it up.

But does the text actually back that up, when we examine Wei Wuxian’s use of his cultivation? While Wei Wuxian does experience a few losses of control, I would argue that they are far more due to circumstances than anything else, and not a sign that the cultivating with resentful energy is inherently harmful to a cultivator’s body or that loss of control is an inevitable conclusion.

Preconceptions

Lan Wangji is the character who most often tries to tell Wei Wuxian that his cultivation is harmful. Immediately when Wei Wuxian returns from the Burial Mounds and meets Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji again while torturing Wen Chao, Lan Wangji expresses concern:

One against two, Lan WangJi still refused to back off. He gazed at Wei WuXian, “Wei Ying, for cultivating an evil path you would eventually have to pay. Throughout time, there has not been a single exception.”

Wei WuXian, “I can pay.”

Seeing how unconcerned he seemed to be, Lan WangJi lowered his voice, “The path would not only damage your body, but your heart as well.”

(Chapter 62, Exiled Rebels translation)

Now, Wei Wuxian’s path (guidao, the ghost path) is brand new. He invented it, being the first person to ever successfully cultivate using yuanqi, or the resentful energy of dead humans. So why does Lan Wangji speak so assuredly of the harm it can cause?

The term ‘cultivating an evil path’ is telling. Wei Wuxian’s cultivation is a new path, but there are other dark paths of cultivation which exist. The Nie sect’s sabres are an example; they absorb the killing intent and evil energy of the yao and guai they kill, and over time their sabres become more and more powerful but also lead the wielder closer and closer to an inevitable qi deviation.

Of course, Lan Wangji is not aware of the Nie sect’s technique, which is a strictly kept secret, at this point. Nie Mingjue only seems to have told Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao because they were his sworn brothers. But there are surely other paths like this which are publicly known.

We know about other dark rituals which are not part of Wei Wuxian’s ghost path, after all, and ‘backlash’ is a frequent risk, either due to making the user vulnerable or failing to fulfil the contract one agreed to.

The body sacrificing ritual which Mo Xuanyu uses, for example, will cause backlash if you fail to keep up your end of the deal.

It was an ancient, forbidden technique. Compared to an array, it resembled a curse more. The caster of the array injures themselves by creating incisions on their body, and draws the array and writes the incantations using their own blood, finishing by sitting in the center of the array. They can then summon an extremely villainous ghoul and ask for it to complete their wish. The price to pay was to offer their body to the evil spirit, with their own soul returning back to Earth.

This was the forbidden technique opposite to stealing another’s body—offering one’s body.

[...]

The difficult part was that, as soon as the evil spirit has taken over the body of the caster, the contract is sealed by default. The evil spirit must grant their wish, or else the curse will cause a backlash. The spirit in possession of the body will be completely annihilated, never to be born again!

(Chapter 2, Exiled Rebels translation)

Interestingly, the harm here is to the ‘evil spirit’ if they fail to keep up their end of the contract. Well, also the caster who gives up his or her life in exchange. At any rate, this sort of thing seems to be a frequent risk of dark cultivation techniques. The paperman technique is also quite risky:

The good thing was that Wei WuXian had once learnt a certain technique of the dark arts—the paper metamorphosis.

Although it was indeed useful, it had a number of restrictions as well. Not only was the time strictly limited, the paperman must also return as it were, after it had been released. There mustn’t even be a single scratch on it. If, on its way, it was torn apart or broken in any way, the soul would receive the same degree of harm—from a year of unconsciousness to a whole lifetime of lunacy. Thus, one must be extremely careful.

(Chapter 47, Exiled Rebels translation)

This seems to be a frequent concern with any dark technique, which probably is what led Lan Wangji to believe that Wei Wuxian’s new path would be similarly dangerous. It’s also very worth noting that he grew up in Gusu Lan, which is known for being even more judgmental towards dark cultivation than other sects.

He immediately seemed to realize, “Oh. I forgot. Your uncle Lan QiRen hates crooked people like me. You’re his proudest disciple, so of course you’re the same as him, haha. I refuse.”

Jiang Cheng stared at Lan WangJi, cautious, “Second Young Master Lan, all of us understand the Lan Sect’s ways.

[...]

Wei WuXian had been angered as well, “Lan WangJi! Do you really have to make this difficult at such a point in time? You want me to go to the Cloud Recesses for the GusuLan Sect’s confinement punishment? Who do you think you are, what do you think the GusuLan Sect is?! You really think that I won’t resist?!”

(Chapter 62, Exiled Rebels translation)

While many people speak negatively of Wei Wuxian’s cultivation path, Lan Qiren is particularly virulent when Wei Wuxian first proposes the theory as a teen:

Everyone in the room was stunned. Lan QiRen sprang to his feet, “The essence of exorcising demons and annihilating ghosts is to liberate! You do not study the methods of liberation, and even think about increasing their energy of resentment! You reverse the natural order, and ignore ethics and morality!”

[...]

Another book came flying from Lan QiRen. He spoke harshly, “Then, let me ask you again! How do you make sure that the resentful energy only listens to you and does not harm others?”

Wei WuXian ducked while speaking, “I haven’t thought of it yet!”

Lan QiRen raged, “If you thought of it, the cultivation world would not allow your existence! Get out!”

(Chapter 14, Exiled Rebels translation)

Due to their father’s seclusion and their mother’s imprisonment, Lan Wangji and his brother were raised by Lan Qiren. With his uncle having such a black and white view of such matters, it’s understandable that Lan Wangji would absorb that and struggle to reconcile the Wei Wuxian he knows and loves with the man who is cultivating an ‘evil’ path.

With his own sect and family so negatively inclined towards Wei Wuxian’s cultivation, I think Lan Wangji was primed to see every behaviour of Wei Wuxian’s through this lens. Similarly, the audience hears the younger Lan Wangji repeat these warnings so many times that I think many readers wind up believing him, too.

Confirmation Bias

However, I think much of this is actually a case of confirmation bias. Lan Wangji is predisposed to see Wei Wuxian’s cultivation as harmful, and is actively looking for signs that it is; he winds up correlating all sorts of things to Wei Wuxian’s cultivation as a result.

He does so when he visits Wei Wuxian in Yunmeng:

Lan WangJi, “Last time, during the hunt on Phoenix Mountain, have you noticed certain signs?”

Wei WuXian, “What signs?”

Lan WangJi, “The loss of control.”

Wei WuXian, “You mean me almost getting into a fight with Jin ZiXuan? I think you got something wrong. I want to fight with Jin ZiXuan whenever I see him.”

(Chapter 71, Exiled Rebels translation)

Which is true! Wei Wuxian and Jin Zixuan just do not get on at all. And if we go back to Phoenix Mountain, it’s clear that this was a perfectly ordinary fight:

However, Jiang YanLi didn’t turn around. Jin ZiXuan was even more enraged. He caught up to her in just three strides and was about to grab her hand when a shadow suddenly flashed before his eyes. Before he could see who it was, he received a blow on his chest. Jin ZiXuan swung his sword across and backed away.

When he finally could see, he raged, “Wei WuXian, why is it you again?!”

Wei WuXian blocked Jiang YanLi behind him, raging as well, “I haven’t fucking said it yet—why is it you again?!”

Jin ZiXuan, “Attacking because of nothing have you gone mad?!”

Wei WuXian struck with his palm, “That’s exactly what I’m doing! What do you mean because of nothing? What are you doing trying to grab my shijie just because of how ashamed you are?!”

Jin ZiXuan dodged to the side and returned to him a sword attack, “If I don’t grab her should I let her walk randomly around the mountain alone?!”

(Chapter 70, Exiled Rebels translation)

Jin Zixuan is described as being ‘enraged’ and tries to grab Jiang Yanli. He’s clearly being very hotheaded here himself. What brother wouldn’t be enraged after this, especially given Jin Zixuan’s pattern of speaking of Jiang Yanli derisively?

Earlier, Lan Wangji had forcibly kissed Wei Wuxian while he was blindfolded, and yet he didn’t display any loss of control or temper problems then.

(I also think this ties into how people tend to judge Wei Wuxian more harshly due to his lower social class; he’s often no more brash and arrogant than his peers, but because he’s the son of a servant only he is judged for it. Look at Jin Zixuan pulling his sword on a man who no longer carries a sword! He isn’t criticised for that. But I digress.)

Lan Wangji also believes that Wei Wuxian’s cultivation is doing him spiritual harm, using evidence such as Wei Wuxian’s unwillingness to carry his sword or receive spiritual energy to help him heal:

Suddenly, he felt an itch at his throat. Blood began to rise up his chest. Trying to restrain it, Wei WuXian coughed a couple of times. Seeing that Lan WangJi was going to grab his hand again, Wei WuXian dodged, “What are you doing?”

Lan WangJi, “Your injuries.”

Wei WuXian, “No need. Why use spiritual energy for such a small wound? It’ll get better after some sitting around.”

Lan WangJi didn’t waste any words with him, grabbing for his hand again. At this point, two people came from outside of the cave. Wen Qing’s voice sounded, “Get better after some sitting around? Did you think I’m dead?”

(Chapter 75, Exiled Rebels translation)

He observes this back when he visited the Burial Mounds in the day, and many years later tells Wen Ning that this was the conclusion he drew:

Wen Ning turned around. He couldn’t help but ask, “Young Master Lan, you don’t seem too surprised about this. Did you… Did you know about this as well?”

“…” Lan WangJi managed, “I only knew that his spiritual powers were somehow impaired.”

But to think this was the truth.

(Chapter 89, Exiled Rebels translation)

Working with incomplete information (since he doesn’t know that Wei Wuxian has no golden core, he instead assumes that he is being harmed spiritually by his cultivation) and a pre-existing bias against demonic cultivation, Lan Wangji viewed Wei Wuxian as someone who was bound to lose control at some point, and everything became evidence to prove what he already believed.

Loss of Control

However, I think it’s arguable that the instances where Wei Wuxian loses control are not an inevitability of his cultivation path. Instead, they occur in extremely dangerous combat situations where Wei Wuxian has no allies and is being besieged by hundreds or thousands of enemies.

I want to go over three instances where things go sideways for Wei Wuxian with his cultivation in his first life: Wen Ning’s awakening, the ambush at Qiongqi Path, and the battle at Nightless City.

Now, I wouldn’t even describe Wen Ning’s revival as a loss of control. Wei Wuxian had spent months trying to revive Wen Ning, and in the end he wound up waking up while Wei Wuxian was down in Yiling, not at the Burial Mounds to keep the situation under control. It’s like an unwatched pot boiling over.

Wei WuXian, “Didn’t I say not to touch the talismans on him?!”

Wen Qing didn’t even have the spare seconds to be surprised that Lan WangJi was here. She answered, “Nobody touched them! Not a single person went into the Cave! He tore them off on his own when he suddenly went on a rampage. Not only the ones on himself, he destroyed the restriction seals at the blood pool and the Cave as well! All of the fierce corpses in the blood pool got out. Wei WuXian, go save Granny and the others. They won’t be able to hold up much longer!!!”

(Chapter 75, Exiled Rebels translation)

Honestly, it’s hard to know based on this what caused Wen Ning to wake up or to return to consciousness. My suspicion is that Wei Wuxian’s efforts had worked, and he woke up with a lot of excess resentful energy he needed to work off; hence going to beat up all the other fierce corpses in the Blood Pool.

After this, Wei Wuxian takes measures to ensure that Wen Ning doesn’t lose consciousness again. For the next year until the ambush at Qiongqi Path, there are absolutely no incidents, and Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian go on night hunts together frequently.

Things only go wrong during the ambush.

Wei WuXian laughed coldly, “You’re seeking your own death!”

As he finished, Wen Ning raised his hand and tore off the red string that hung a talisman at his neck.

After the string snapped, his body wavered, and the muscles on his face began to twist. Marks that resembled black cracks crawled up his neck to his cheeks. He suddenly lifted his head, letting out a long, inhuman roar!

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

So Wen Ning wears a talisman which presumably suppresses his resentful energy, and which he must remove in order to fight at full strength. After Jin Zixuan shows up and completely fails to de-escalate the situation at all, Wen Ning kills him:

Wei WuXian was suppressing a blazing flame of hatred. His voice was cold, “Jin ZiXuan, move away right now. I won’t touch you, but you’re not going to provoke me either.”

Seeing that he still refused to yield, Jin ZiXuan suddenly lunged forward, as if trying to hold him down, “Why can’t you just back off for once?! A-Li is still…”

Just as he reached toward Wei WuXian, he heard a strange, heavy noise.

The noise was almost a bit too near. Jin ZiXuan paused in surprise. He looked down and finally saw the hand that pierced his chest.

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

It’s pretty clear that Wen Ning saw Jin Zixuan lunging towards Wei Wuxian and interpreted him as a threat. As objective observers, we can see that this is actually quite understandable, if tragic, and realistically could have happened similarly in a mundane setting with no magic. But Wei Wuxian of course would start to feel doubt when something so terrible happens:

He was clearly controlling Wen Ning properly.

Even though he activated Wen Ning’s rampage mode, he should still be able to control him.

He’d clearly always been able to control him perfectly.

He didn’t want to kill Jin ZiXuan at all.

He never had the intention to kill Jin ZiXuan at all! It was just that moment. He didn’t know why, but all of a sudden he wasn’t able to control it… He had suddenly lost control!

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

Wei Wuxian had always been able to control Wen Ning perfectly before. Honestly, it’s not a surprise that his control was looser in a situation like this; he’s in the midst of an ambush where 300 people are trying to kill him! Realistically, Jin Zixuan bears some responsibility in his own death, too. When you’re trying to negotiate a ceasefire, you don’t fail to give the target of the attack any assurance of his safety and then lunge for him threateningly! Of course Wen Ning saw him as a threat and acted to defend Wei Wuxian.

Later, Wei Wuxian observes that during his ‘rampage’ state, Wen Ning draws his guidance from Wei Wuxian’s impressions of people:

Listening to him stutter as he apologized over and over again, all of a sudden, Wei WuXian felt extremely ridiculous.

It wasn’t Wen Ning’s fault at all.

It was his own fault.

When on a rampage, Wen Ning was nothing more than a weapon. The person who created the weapon was him. The things it listens to were his orders as well.

At that time, with all the tension and the killing intent on top of how Wei WuXian had never hesitated to show enmity toward Jin ZiXuan in front of Wen Ning, when he was unconscious, Wen Ning recognized Jin ZiXuan as an ‘enemy’ when he attacked, carrying out the order of ‘exterminate’ without a second thought.

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

I actually think that if Wen Ning had killed, say, Jin Zixun, Wei Wuxian would simply have seen it as a case of self-defence and accepted it as that. It’s the fact that Jin Zixuan is the husband of his foster sister (and the one person there he didn’t actually want dead) which turns this into such a tragedy.

The intensely stressful situation in the aftermath of Jin Zixuan’s death is the only time we ever see Wei Wuxian express doubt in his own abilities or regret choosing the ghost path:

With the child’s cries coming to his ears from afar and the scared siblings who were at a complete loss as to what to do in his eyes, Wei WuXian felt his heart sink lower into darkness. He asked himself, Just why have I been locking myself up on Burial Mound all these years? Why do I have to go through all this? Why did I choose to walk this path in the beginning? Why did I make myself like this? What do others see me as? Just what have I gained? Have I gone mad? Have I gone mad? Have I gone mad?!

If only he didn’t choose this path in the beginning.

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

I think that during this period, Wei Wuxian was under an immense amount of stress. He was the sole protector of 50 people who the world wanted dead, and he had to be strong and confident for them at all times. Only during his initial panic after Jin Zixuan’s death does that confident front break down and show us just how much the stress must have been wearing on him:

As he thought and thought about it, Wei WuXian suddenly broke into tears.

His voice was submerged in a deep helplessness, “… Can someone tell me… what I’m supposed to do now?”

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

I honestly think that if Wei Wuxian had had someone to lean on and share responsibility with during this time, it would have helped him so much.

In the past, there were only others who asked him what to do. Now, though, he was the one asking others what he should do, and nobody was able to give him an answer.

[...]

Wei WuXian raged, “You can shut the fuck up! It’s already pandemonium the way things are right now! You two can stop adding more trouble onto my platter. Give yourselves in my ass. Did I tell you to do this? Take it out!”

(Chapter 77, Exiled Rebels translation)

Later on, at Nightless City, Wei Wuxian’s loss of control is directly tied by the narrator to his worsening mental state:

The more Wei WuXian panicked, the less control he had. The corpse ignored his command and instead lifted the sword in its hand, slashing it down at Jiang YanLi!

Wei WuXian had lost it, dashing as he shouted, “Stop it, stop it, right now, stop it!”

(Chapter 78, Exiled Rebels translation)

He manages to calm himself down and get back under control:

Jiang YanLi sighed, “A-Xian, you… you should stop first. Don’t, don’t…”

Wei WuXian hurried, “Yes, I’ll stop.”

He took up Chenqing, placed it by his lips, and began to play. He only managed to steady his mind with great effort. This time, the corpses finally stopped ignoring his commands. One after another, strange gurgles echoed in their throats as if they were complaining. Slowly, they bent down.

(Chapter 78, Exiled Rebels translation)

Only when Jiang Yanli is killed by a cultivator aiming for Wei Wuxian does he decide, in his grief and rage, to put the Yinhufu together again:

Yet, no matter the criticism, the blame, Wei WuXian could no longer hear any of them. As if governed by another soul, he reached out and took two objects from within his sleeves. Before everyone’s eyes, he put them together. One half on top and the other below, the two objects snapped into one, letting out a resonating clang.

Wei WuXian placed it on his palm and raised it high into the air.

It was the Stygian Tiger Seal!

(Chapter 78, Exiled Rebels translation)

We know that after the Bloodbath of Nightless City, as this battle comes to be known, Lan Wangji takes Wei Wuxian back to Yiling. However, Wei Wuxian is in a very poor mental state (most likely due to stress, exhaustion, and trauma), and only regains awareness a few days later at the Burial Mounds.

This is when he decides that the Yinhufu is a weapon which he should never have created, and determines to destroy it.

After using it for the second time, he finally decided to destroy one half of the seal. Before he could completely destroy the other half, the siege at Luanzang Hill happened, and it had since then been beyond his capabilities.

(Chapter 30, Exiled Rebels translation)

So Wei Wuxian was actually able to successfully destroy one half of the seal, and start work on the second, in the three months between Nightless City and the First Siege.

Toward his own creation, Wei WuXian was confident to say that even if the sect that got hold of it, made a temple for it, and offered it incense every single day, the remaining half of the Tiger Seal was just a piece of scrap iron. However, Lan WangJi told him something shocking—it appeared that Xue Yang could rebuild the other half of the seal!

Although Xue Yang was young, he was also quite clever, a bizarre eccentric. The LanlingJin Sect discovered that he could use the remaining half of the seal to roughly piece together the other half. Even though the recreated version wasn’t as powerful and couldn’t be used for as long, it could already result in terrible catastrophes.

(Chapter 30, Exiled Rebels translation)

I gather that the first half, he completely neutralised. The second half had not been fully drained of power when the First Siege happened. We never see the First Siege, but I think we can hazard a guess that once the Wens were massacred, Wei Wuxian knew that it was all over, and decided to destroy the second half of the Yinhufu so that no one there could get their hands on it. It is likely the backlash from improperly destroying/neutralising the Yinhufu which led to his corpses turning on him and ripping him apart.

Wei Wuxian does confirm that some sort of backlash killed him:

Wen Ning whispered, “Sect Leader Jiang, Jiang Cheng, brought a siege upon the Burial Mounds. And he killed you.”

Wei WuXian, “I’ll have to clarify this one. He didn’t kill me. I died from a backfire.”

(Chapter 43, Exiled Rebels translation)

“That’s merely hearsay. Although Jiang Cheng was one of the main forces, he did not give Wei WuXian the final blow. Because he cultivates the Demon Path, Wei WuXian’s powers had backfired and he was ripped to pieces.”

“Hahahaha… That’s karma! The ghost soldiers that he created are like unleashed dogs, biting everyone that they come across. It serves him right to be chewed to death!”

(Chapter 1, Exiled Rebels translation)

While the vast majority of information in the prologue is revealed later to be lies, Wei Wuxian does confirm this. Strictly, the ‘ghost soldiers’ were probably his fierce corpses. ‘Ghost’ or ‘Gui’ is used in Modao Zushi’s magic system as a catch-all phrase for dead humans, whether they’re actual ghosts (incorporeal spirits) or reanimated corpses. We know that Wei Wuxian was using huge numbers of fierce corpses to act as guards at the entrance to the Burial Mounds and protect the Wens, after all.

Wei Wuxian’s Second Life

So the risk of backlash is confirmed as a threat when using guidao and other dark cultivation techniques. However, it seems that they either have a clear contract which has to be fulfilled (like in the body sacrifice ritual), or a clearly defined risk which can be mitigated or prevented entirely through careful use.

It’s notable that Wei Wuxian is in control of his cultivation far more often than not, and in his second life we see absolutely no losses of control from him. This is probably down to a few things, one of them being greater experience. He also is no longer working alone; Lan Wangji is nearly always at his side or very nearby, which removes the intense stress of trying to fight against the entire world alone.

Honestly, I can’t even pull up any instances of Wei Wuxian struggling to control his cultivation in his second life or being even mildly harmed by it; there are absolutely none. We only ever see him dealing with mundane exhaustion, stress, and physical injuries.

He recovers very quickly from performing Empathy with Nie Mingjue:

Hearing this, Wei WuXian instantly pulled himself out!

He was still the thin paperman, stuck to the helmet that sealed Nie MingJue’s head. He had tugged loose the knot that tied the iron shells over Nie MingJue’s eyes, revealing a bloodshot eye, opened wide with anger.

[...]

There wasn’t much time left. He must return to his corporal body immediately!

Paperman WuXian flapped his sleeves, flying out as though he were a butterfly.

[...]

A while later, once his soul had returned successfully, Wei WuXian immediately took a deep breath. He raised his head, opened his eyes, and suddenly stood up. Yet, having not expected his body to still be disoriented, he felt dizzy and leaned forward. Seeing this, Lan WangJi caught him in his arms. Wei WuXian lifted his head once more, and the top of his head collided with Lan WangJi’s chin. With a thud, both of them grunted in pain. Wei WuXian rubbed his head with one hand and felt Lan WangJi’s chin with the other, “Ugh! I’m sorry. Lan Zhan, you alright?”

His chin having been stroked a couple of times, Lan WangJi lightly took Wei WuXian’s hand away before shaking his head. Wei WuXian tugged him, “Let’s go!”

(Chapter 50, Exiled Rebels translation)

After this, he is stabbed by Jin Ling and winds up spending four days unconscious in Cloud Recesses. I’ve seen it suggested that his short bout of hallucinating after he wakes up is due to harm from his cultivation, but I firmly disagree. He’d been unconscious for four days after being stabbed!

He immediately let go, almost wanting to roll away. His movement was so large that it hurt the wound at his stomach. He exclaimed an ‘ah’ as he scrunched his brows, finally remembering that he was still injured. Amid the stars before his eyes, Jing Ling, Jiang Cheng, Jiang YanLi, Jiang FengMian, Madam Yu… Many faces spun around in a large circle.

[...]

Only having ensured that his injuries were indeed fine did Lan WangJi finally let him go, “Four days.”

Jin Ling’s sword stabbed right through. The wound hadn’t been shallow at all. How it healed within four days without even leaving a scar behind meant that high level medicine of the GusuLan Sect had to have been necessary. Wei WuXian thanked him, mocking himself along the way, “I’ve reincarnated but somehow I’ve become even weaker. I couldn’t keep going after just a single stab.”

(Chapter 63, Exiled Rebels translation)

After being a bit muddled upon first waking up, he’s fine. He was also dreaming about his past while unconscious, which is why he’s described as seeing all these faces ‘amid the stars before his eyes’. The flashbacks in Refinement and Poisons-Evil are both framed as Wei Wuxian sleeping and dreaming about the past, and he’s thinking about them as a result; he’s not portrayed as actually hallucinating and thinking they’re really there.

Wei Wuxian is very drained by the events of the Second Siege and faints twice afterwards. However, it’s worth noting that during the Second Siege, he didn’t really use resentful energy (he couldn’t, as all the corpses there were under the control of the Yinhufu); he used talismans, which only require a small amount of spiritual energy.

Wei Wuxian even specifically states that Mo Xuanyu’s body is very weak, refusing to use Suibian before the Second Siege:

He wore it by his waist and didn’t seem like he was going to use it. Seeing how Lan WangJi looked at him, he fiddled with his hair and explained, “I haven’t used a sword in so many years. I’m not used to it.” As he spoke, he sighed again, “Alright. The real reason is that my current body is low in spiritual energy. Even if there’s a high level sword, it won’t be able to make the best use of it. And so, it’ll be up to HanGuang-Jun to protect the delicate man that I am.”

(Chapter 68, Exiled Rebels translation)

Wei Wuxian collapses due to exhaustion on the boat ride to Lotus Pier:

OuYang ZiZhen, “HanGuang-Jun, why did Senior Wei collapse?”

Lan WangJi, “Fatigue.”

Lan JingYi was amazed, “I thought that Senior Wei would never get tired!”

(Chapter 84, Exiled Rebels translation)

He collapses again during the fight at the Jiang ancestral hall:

Lan WangJi, “Wei Ying?!” His low voice rang within Wei WuXian’s ears, echoing endlessly.

Wei WuXian was starting doubt if something happened to his ears, “What’s wrong?”

He felt something streak down his face, but reached up only to retrieve a handful of scarlet. Accompanied by throbs of dizziness, blood continued to drip down his nose and his mouth, onto the ground.

[...]

Having come to the conclusion that Wei WuXian was only in a temporary state of unconsciousness due to extreme fatigue and anger, Lan WangJi finally tore his gaze away.

(Chapter 88, Exiled Rebels translation)

When he wakes up in Chapter 90, he feels unwell but recovers fairly quickly:

For a long while, he couldn’t figure out what was happening. Only when he saw the splatters of blood on Lan WangJi’s left sleeve, like a string of plum blossoms resting on snow, did he finally recall what happened before he passed out from anger. His expression twisted at once as he suddenly sat upright. Lan WangJi went to help him, but the ringing in Wei WuXian’s ears hadn’t stopped yet.

[...]

Lan WangJi knew that he wasn’t feeling well. Silent, he didn’t ask anything. He lay one hand on his back, sending him a warm thread of spiritual energy.

[...]

Looking around, Wei WuXian suddenly exclaimed, “I’m hungry.”

Lan WangJi looked up. Of course, Wei WuXian wasn’t hungry at all. He had just eaten three pies at the vendor in front of Lotus Pier’s gates. Lan WangJi only ate one, however, and it was the only thing he’d eaten in the past two days. The matter was on Wei WuXian’s mind.

(Chapter 90, Exiled Rebels translation)

The narrative again directly links it to exhaustion, not to anything more ominous than that:

In the fight at Burial Mound, Wei WuXian exerted too much energy and stamina. Both his mind and his body were strained for too long. A few hours earlier, Jiang Cheng angered him so much that he almost bled from his qiqiao.

He only recovered after a long time of rest. Although he didn’t feel too bad right now, if there was something he missed and he pushed himself all the way to Lanling, it was hard to tell whether or not an accident would happen at a critical moment. On top of that, he wasn’t the only one straining his mind and body in the past few days. Lan WangJi didn’t rest for a second either.

(Chapter 91, Exiled Rebels translation)

As said, there simply isn’t any proof, based on Wei Wuxian’s second life, that his cultivation is doing him harm, nor does he ever lose control of it.

This definitely indicates to me that Wei Wuxian’s losses of control in his first life were related to the circumstances and not an inevitable risk of his cultivation path.

In Conclusion

I actually suspect that Lan Wangji himself came to the same conclusion; he only ever gently warns Wei Wuxian to be careful when using dark techniques during his second life:

Lan WangJi let the paperman wriggle on his ribbon for some time. Just as he reached out to take it down, the paperman slid its way down as fast as it could. No matter intentionally or not, it bumped its head once against his lips.

Lan WangJi’s movements paused for a moment. Using two of his fingers, he finally caught it, “Do not fool around.”

Softly, the paperman rolled its body over his slender finger.

Lan WangJi, “You must be careful.”

The paperman nodded and flapped its wings. Clinging flat onto the ground, it climbed through the door slit and snuck out of the guest room.

(Chapter 47, Exiled Rebels translation)

He still does have some level of distaste for Wei Wuxian’s cultivation path, I would argue, due to the way he instantly latches onto the idea that Wei Wuxian would never have turned to the ghost path if not for his lost golden core:

“…” Lan WangJi managed, “I only knew that his spiritual powers were somehow impaired.”

But to think this was the truth.

Wen Ning, “If not because of this…”

If not because there really wasn’t a second path to walk on.

(Chapter 89, Exiled Rebels translation)

But the discussion of Wei Wuxian’s feelings on his cultivation is one for another day.

At any rate, I doubt that Lan Wangji is only holding back his feelings on the ghost path due to wanting to avoid any more fights with Wei Wuxian. After all, he spent 13 years mourning him. If he still believed that Wei Wuxian’s cultivation was going to eventually kill him, I doubt he would accept it so much more readily now.

I think the lesson he learnt, after looking back and thinking on the past a great deal, was indeed that Wei Wuxian would not have suffered such losses of control if he had had anyone to rely on in his past life. So now Lan Wangji always stands by his side and ensures that he will never reach such a state of desperation again.

#meta #mdzs #mdzs meta #demonic cultivation #fandom essay

390 notes · View notes

limitlessgojo · 3 years

Text

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 4)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: What's Your Ideal Type?

Next Chapter: Special Grade

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj, @rizzo-nero, @whoreuc

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty. Double update this week since the story is moving along fast.

CHAPTER 4: Cherry Blossom Storm

You finally reached your classroom. It wasn’t large as there were only 4 1st year students who enrolled this year. A black board, some desks, and a huge view from outside.

“Wowww, the campus view from here is so pretty!” You quickly made your way to the open window. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom. It is spring and the school year starts in April.

Noritoshi stood by your side and stared at you. “Yeah we have a pretty good view here. The view from the roof is much better if you would like me to show you?”

“Sure.” you replied absentmindedly. You reached out a hand towards the petals and flowers blowing in the wind and used your technique to pull them to you. You stared at the cherry blossom in the centre of your hand.

You turned to Noritoshi with a hint of mischief in your eyes. “Have you ever felt what it was like to be in the midst of a flower storm?” He stared affixed at the way you freely used your cursed energy.

He grew up understanding that cursed energy is limited. It has a slow recharge and should not be used meaninglessly. And here you were, using yours without a care in the world.

But then you must have a lot if you look as relaxed as you are now. Plus he can sense the huge amount of cursed energy swirling around you. It was one of the reasons why he immediately walked up to greet you when you both first met.

“I don’t, would you perhaps show me?” he asked. You grinned at him, “Please bring me to the rooftop.”

The rooftop was a marvelous view. At about 4 stories high, you could see the surrounding forest around the campus, as well as the more urbanised city from a distance. You beckoned Noritoshi to the center of the space and he stood in front of you.

Then you put both palms up, one diagonally on top of the other in kind of like a v shape before whispering, “Tornado: Soft Blossom Style”. Immediately a wind channel formed in your hands and attracted the flower petals and loose cherry blossoms that have fallen from trees. They spun around both of you faster and faster until you were both in the midst of a mini flower tornado.

“What a sight.” Noritoshi smiled up as he could smell the petals from up close. He reached up to pick a flower, but they were moving way too fast. So you caught a few full undamaged blossoms and placed it in his hands. “My mum has similar abilities with plants. She taught me how to control them like this.” You admitted.

You released your technique and the petals slowly drifted downwards like a gentle flower shower. “Clear skies with a hint of flower fall.” You said out of nowhere. Noritoshi couldn’t help but laugh out loud at that as he pocketed the flowers. “What a weather report.”

You smiled at him not noticing the figures by the door who were attracted to your mini flower storm. “Waaaa~ What’s all this for?”

You quickly turned to see two girls. One with blonde hair and one with short dark green hair that was almost black. “Nishimiya, Mai.” Noritoshi senpai called out.

Ah, so more school mates. The short blonde ran out and reached up for the petals, while the other followed from behind.

“Hello, I am an incoming first year here. Tsuchimikado Y/N, It is nice to meet you.” You greeted them with a bow.

“Ahhh, that Tsuchimikado huh?” to which you looked back up to the taller pretty woman with short hair. “The name’s Mai. Zenin Mai. Looks like we’ll be fellow classmates. Please take care of me.”

Zenin?! Whoa now there are two students here at Kyoto Jujutsu High who come from the Great 3 Jujutsu Families.

“Nishimiya Momo, 2nd year student. Just call me Momo senpai, Tsuchimikado chan. We saw the flowers from down below and just came to check what’s happening.”

“Is it okay if I address you as y/n chan?” Momo senpai asked. “Yes y/n is fine senpai, I don’t mind too much. I’ll be in both of your care!” You smiled at them.

“So what are you both doing up here Kamo-kun?” Momo turned to him. He calmly replied “I was bringing her around campus. She wanted to see the view from the rooftop.”

“Ahhh. So what Todo said about both of you being on a date wasn’t true then?”

You solemnly vowed to beat that man up the next time you see him. He knew what he was doing and he was provoking you very well. Still, it didn’t stop you and Noritoshi from both flushing hard, “It’s not a date!” You both exclaimed at the same time.

Mai was smirking. “Okay then. By the way, Y/n chan, our uniforms have arrived. I was just walking with Momo to the office to pick it up. Would you want to come along?”

You brightened up, “Of course I’ll go!” To which Noritoshi came up behind you and smiled as he leaned down to reach your height. “I have some other errands to do, you can go ahead with them.”

“Ah, th-thank you again for showing me around. I think I am more familiar with the place now.” You bowed again. He shook his head, “I’ve already got something better from you,” as he motioned to the flowers on the ground. “Now if you three would excuse me.”

After he left, you quickly blew all the flowers off the roof and towards the ground. “I made a mess without thinking.” You worriedly said. “Y/n, don’t worry about it. C’mon let’s go.” Momo pulled you along.

Mai just stared at the space where a bunch of petals were at a moment ago. ‘A natural born talent huh.’ She thought with a bit of jealousy as she turned to follow you guys.

◇◇◇

“Here you are!” The window handed you and Mai your uniforms. “Thank you so much!” You smiled at them. You looked over the custom made fits and everything seemed correct.

You had requested for pants and a short sleeved top along with a cape over it. You can also wear your favorite haori if not the cape. The top and the cape both have the Jujutsu High Buttons on them.

You had lunch with the girls and chatted with them, getting to know them a bit better. You discovered that Momo senpai was also admitted based on her family lineage. “Y/n chan, you also got in via your family?”

“Yes I did! My family is a bit small, but we are descendants of-”

“Abe no Seimei.” Mai finished for you, You turned to look at her in surprise before realizing that she was from the Zenin clan, of course they have a lot of information on the rest of the Jujutsu society.

You nodded at her. “You’re from the Zenin clan right Mai chan? Is that how you know Noritoshi senpai?”

“Yes, the big 3 Jujutsu clans have always been in touch with each other, so we know each other from a while back.” She replied.

You’re definitely not jealous that she knows Noritoshi. Definitely not.

“Noritoshi senpai? You don’t call him Kamo senpai?” Momo asked curiously.

“Ahh, he told me to call him that…?” You hesitantly asked. Momo’s eyes sparkled dangerously.

“Reaaally?? Mr. ‘I only care about studying and being the next Kamo clan head’ Noritoshi said that to you?”

What.

“Next clan head what?!” You were surprised. The whole time you were so casual with him, making him bring you around. Should you have been more formal?

“Ah, you didn’t know.” The two other girls stared at you in growing amusement, while you flapped around nervously.

“Oh my gosh and I was so casual with him?!” you panicked. “Should I be more formal with him from now on?”

Mai shrugged. “Dunno. I honestly don’t think he minds. He and Todo, they’re both a pain in the ass.”

“Have you also met Todo senpai? He asked me what my ideal type was earlier! So odd.” You said, to which Momo senpai just groaned out. “I’m classmates with both of them and they’re definitely a huge pain to deal with. Todo is just obsessed with his favorite idol Takada chan. Just ignore him, it will do you good. Trust me.” she added as an afterthought.

“If you say so.” You replied. The girls were nice, you were happy that there were some people you would get along with for sure.

◇◇◇

“Utahime sensei,” Noritoshi called out by the door to the staff room. “Coming! Just a moment!”

“Oh, it’s just you Kamo. What is it?” Utahime asked as she leaned against the door frame.

“There is this book I was reading, but I found some essential pages torn out. I borrowed it from the library.” He handed the volume over to Utahime, who checked it.

“Tsk, tsk. How could we have missed that? Must be a very old untouched volume. ‘The Tales and True Records of Soulmates’”. She looked up at him in curiosity. “What did you need it for?”

He cooly replied with the strongest poker face he had, “My father told me to be well versed in all forms and matters of Jujutsu. Some origins of special powers were known to originate from soulmate or fated pairs, and thus it piqued my interest.”

“Ah. I see,” Utahime hummed. “Well, we can’t do anything about it, but I can ask the library heads if they know of the origins of this book, so that we can locate the missing pages. But if you’d like I can help you locate more books on soulmates? If that helps? But I can’t go now. Maybe next week after class starts.”

“Yes, if you could please do so. Thank you sensei.”

Noritoshi returned to his dorm, and upon remembering the flowers that you had gifted him from the little flower show from earlier. He brought them out, smiling and touching the soft petals.

Then set to work on pressing and preserving the flowers in a thick book.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

#kamo noritoshi #kamo noritoshi x you #noritoshi fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #noritoshi x reader #jjk x oc #noritoshi x you #kamo noritoshi x y/n #jjk kamo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #blood bound #red strings of fate

61 notes · View notes

antihero-writings · 3 years

Text

If These Walls Could Talk (Ch7)

(^^ Art commissioned from Junki Sakuraba on instagram and deviantart!!)

Fandom: Castlevania Netflix

Summary: Vampires do not have reflections, and castles do not have hearts. But Dracula is no ordinary vampire, and Castlevania is no ordinary castle. If castles can fight, maybe they can think too. The series, and Adrian’s childhood, told from the perspective of the castle.

Notes: Hey all! I am SO sorry this chapter took so long to come out. My perfectionism really got the best of me with this chapter. But I saw that S4 was on its way and that really lit a fire under my butt because I really do want to post my season 3 chapter before s4 comes out. I’m highly doubt I’ll accomplish it as it almost always takes me longer than I have to get a chapter out, let alone two, but I'll try, at least.

I really really hope you enjoy it!! If you enjoy this chapter, please please consider commenting. I assure you it’ll be more likely I’ll post the next chapter faster the more people comment on this showing you still enjoy this fic. Each comment is a little shot of energy and motivation for me.

Important! This chapter is meant to have aesthetic indentation in some places. So if you want to read it as-intended, please look it at on Archiveofourown at I_prefer_the_term_antihero on your computer or tablet!!

If you get here and are thinking “Wait, what was this fic about? What were the main themes?” then this would be a good time to reread/skim back through the earlier chapters. This is the climax of the fic and will (hopefully) be more impactful the more you remember about the rest of the fic and its many themes.

Chapter Summary:

"Go back whence you came! Trouble the soul of my Mother no more!" "How? How—How is it that I've been so defeated?" "You have been doomed ever since you lost the ability to love." "Ha—Ah... Sarcasm. 'For what profit is it to a man if he gains the world, and loses his own soul?' Matthew 16:26, I believe. "Tell me. What—What were Lisa's last words?" "She said 'Do not hate humans. If you cannot live with them, then at least do them no harm. For theirs is already a hard lot'. She also said to tell you that she would love you for all of eternity." "Lisa, forgive me. Farewell my son."

Chapter 7: “Heart”

Hey there, Sunshine, the Room adds with a smile.

The Room forgot the sweet tang of breath. How gentle, how vicious. Like honey, like relief, like a cozy blanket and a fireplace. It came in great, gulping gasps, and living was painful after such long breathlessness, but hurt far less than being half dead.

The Room rushes to Castlevania, shaking it, saying, Open your eyes! Open your eyes! It’s Adrian. It’s our boy. My master. My sunlight. And Castlevania limply flickers open its eyes, for it cannot help but obey.

Obey to see the golden man standing in its doorway.

And it feels a jolt of warmth in its broken chest.

Alucard has returned home. He arrives at the doorstep with resolve in his closed fists and a sword on his tongue. The threat to the war they all knew he would be, and the Room promised it would rear him to be.

But he isn’t alone this time.

There are two humans by his side. One with fire in her fists—quite literally—the other with a barbed tongue at his hip.

Castlevania recognizes a crest on the clothing of one of them, gold and proud: The Belmonts. The ones who came with whips and scourges to defeat its master long ago. The ones whom Dracula and his Castle were bound together against in their undead war. The ones whom Dracula trusted his Castle to protect him from. The owner of the hold now beneath Castlevania. He has come to defeat its master like the rest…but this time the boy is by his side, and for that reason, the Castlevania is unsure how this will end.

“I terrify them,” the Belmont explains the plan, “Sypha disorients them, Alucard goes over the top and we support him.”

“Yes.” The Speaker confirms.

Alucard holds his sword out horizontally in front of him, unsheathes it, and speaks:

“Begin.”

Alucard is with the Belmont.

And Castlevania knows when it sees them, the fire in their eyes, that they are the intent that brought it here. That they have indeed come to kill its master once and for all. It had wished when the boy returned, it would be with the promise of hope. But there is no promise of life and the sparing of it this time.

They bring death inside with them; the war room is filled with war, blood and burns on its floors, but it is different this time, because this is not an ambiance, a continuation, a fact of life, it is a swift and fatal kiss—the end they said he would bring, once. The blood is rotten on the floors, but it doesn’t itch or burn. And the boy uses those techniques his father taught him on brighter nights about turning into things with teeth, and the ones his mother once taught him on sunnier days about how to make metal listen.

They did not bring life inside this time, not life of the same kind at least. The war, the death, has followed and swallowed them too, but not in the same way it has its master. They are not bloodthirsty. The cold the dark and the death are merely clothes they wear, they have not reached the deepest parts of them; there are still light-starved Rooms in their hearts waiting to breathe.

There is a song at their heels as they dance in rings of fire, with the wind and the moon, upon the blood and water Castlevania isn’t sure will come out of the carpet. It is a song that is all too familiar. It has been played here before, when other, more, less, holy Belmonts barged in long ago. A song of blood and tears.

Bloody tears its master cried once, for his wife when he realized they had taken something that could not be borrowed, bartered, or souled.

They’re bringing an end to the strife, and all the undead lives that facilitated it, and vice versa. They are cutting the puppet strings, and not all puppets can live without them.

Isaac fights the nameless soldiers on the staircase for its master…until he sees someone who is far from nameless.

Isaac’s reddened eyes meet Alucard’s golden ones. Alucard’s sword aims at him, but it hits the deadened flesh of the nameless instead.

Isaac runs to tell its master—Dracula, busy ripping out the heart of a nameless—who’s here; that his sun has returned, and at his side is magic and might.

Dracula knows the prophecy.

He’s willing to die—Issac. He stands before Dracula, his form barely able to shield three-quarters of Dracula’s, willing to give his feeble human life for Dracula’s indefinite undead one. He believes knowledge and will are more important than the blood of a good man. He believes in love, and loyalty is love of a sort. And it is Castlevania’s understanding that when someone is willing to live for something, they are also willing to die for it. This is the noblest of causes.

“You are the greatest of your people, Isaac. You have a soul, I think.” As Dracula says the words, he raises his hand, and the mirror shards behind them begin to rise. “Perhaps that is more valuable to the world to come than a dusty collection of books and apparatus.”

Lisa looks on from the portrait, and Castlevania thinks it is a look of pride. She always did stand for saving human lives rather than destroying them. Isn’t it funny that in what will perhaps be the deciding battle of this war, the one where his goals should possess him stronger than ever, it is the human who he values more than himself?

“Or perhaps you simply deserve a better fate than to die instead of me.”

“I choose my death, as I chose my life.” The words are stronger than iron.

“Then I regret only that I have taken a choice for you.” A hand at his shoulder.

Dracula throws him halfway across the world, to the kind of place Isaac was born in, and the kind of place Isaac least wants to die in.

Isaac believes in love. And it is for this reason, this belief, that Vlad saves his life, Castlevania knows. Saves his life, by denying the choice he so desperately wanted to make—perhaps his whole life—and had no regrets or apprehensions about making, rather a lot more in being kept alive.

And when the mirror shatters and falls, his son is standing there, like he did a year ago, though this time he is not backed by sunlight. The only light in the room is the fire glinting in his eyes.

A pause. To remember the dead.

“Father.”

A word. To remember the living.

“Son.”

This should be a reunion, perhaps. Better people would think they should happily hug each other, and say they missed each other, and that they love each other all the same. Better people would say that the sunlight should plead with the dark to come back into its embrace. All the sinners know there was no chance of that the moment Dracula scrawled fate on his son’s skin with his own claws.

Instead, there is nothing but bitter, fighting words:

“Your war is over.”

Dracula tilts his head to the side. “Because you say so?”

“It ends.” Alucard looks at his sword, the one she taught him how to use. “In the name of my mother.”

Dracula looks at his son, the one she gave him. “It endures in the name of your mother.”

“I told you before I won’t let you do it.” Alucard’s voice is so soft, yet solid and unwavering. There is no anger, but he will not step aside. Not this time. Even when the claws come. “I grieve with you…but I won’t let you commit genocide.”

“You couldn’t stop me before.” Dark assurance in soft words.

Footsteps. A cue to the magic and the hunt behind the curtain, who step out on either side of him.

“I was alone before.”

And Castlevania understands. Understands that they are not here to talk things out. Understands that they are not here to save Dracula, to appeal to the good in him, as Lisa once had, and the Room once thought. Castlevania itself even hoped, when the boy returned, the song would be a bit more inspirational. But, beaten and broken and bloody, Castlevania understands now, if Alucard stands with the intent, if Alucard brought a Belmont—

Then they do not believe there is a chance. They are not here then, to talk him out of it. They are here to halt this war in its tracks, make it rear up, lose its balance, and fall.

—(And Castlevania knows, deep down, that to do this… they must end something else)—

Alucard is bringing back the sunlight. But there is only one way he can do that, and goodnight is not quiet.

And make no mistake he does intend to bring the full, the warm, the life, and the light back, just like Castlevania and the Room wanted. But there is too much cold, dark, death, and emptiness here to do this quietly. They are here to kill Dracula—the master now puppeteered by Death’s strings rather than his own soul.

The Speaker raises her fingers to her lips as if to say a prayer, or perhaps take a heavenly name in vain for the sake of a little silence. The Belmont’s whip clinks in his hand. Alucard’s sword sings as he raises it.

Alucard drives it towards his father: a bolt of golden lightning through the room, pinning him against the fireplace as books fall to the floor. Castlevania, wincing at the pain, knows that will bruise in the morning.

The picture of his mother cracks and falls, as if she has to close her eyes for this.

Alucard, growling with fierce resolve, pushing the sword into him with all his might. But Dracula has the sword in his hand, rather than his heart. He steps calmly forward, barely having to use any of his strength to combat so much of his son’s, as if he’s about to tell him to put the toy away.

A glint of golden eyes. Alucard pulls back the sword. A slash. Two. Three.

Dracula raises his arm as if to knock the sword from his shoulder.

Instead he bashes his son’s head into the fireplace—and Castlevania cries out at the feeling, feeling its stomach burn.

The Speaker and the Belmont ready for a fight. The floor splinters—(Castlevania grimaces, tasting blood)—as Dracula flashes through the room, and pins the Belmont into the hall, against the wall, sending his sword out of his hand. He keels over onto his hands to cough up blood, the puddle crawling on Castlevania’s skin.

Castlevania never had any qualms with the blood of Belmonts on its floors before, so this hurts less, but this is different, and Castlevania still wonders if Dracula could be a little gentler with his Castle.

A flash of light at his side. He raises his cloak as the Speaker sends tongues and teeth of fire at him.

“Speaker magician!” Its master realizes.

He rushes at her, knocking her hand out of position. She creates an ice shard before her with the other.

He scratches up with a claw, sending her flying with the broken pieces towards the ceiling, and angry gashes appear on her arm as she rolls along the floor.

“Sypha!” The Belmont calls.

He must love her in some way, because in a fit of some sort of emotion—instead of picking up his sword—the Belmont uses his fists. They probably haven’t failed him before. But this is Dracula, and his punches don’t cause the king to so much as flinch.

“You must be the Belmont.”

Castlevania laughs a little at the words; it too thought the method was rather common of his line.

It’s Dracula’s turn, and his punch doesn’t just cause the Belmont to flinch, the sound is as if he hit rock, sending him into the air with the force. He doesn’t give him a second to breathe, rather reaches his claw is around the human’s neck, holding him there.

He raises his other claw level—a blade, more trustworthy than any.

“The end of your line.”

Before he can make these words true, another blade stops him: his son’s, driving itself through both his arms.

While he is pinned the Speaker, knowing this is an opportunity she will not get again, rushes forward—still bleeding, mind—a bead of fire between her fingers. Dracula cannot move to protect himself, and the magician, knowing this, lets the fire loose to lick his face raw.

Dracula drops the Belmont, attempting to get away, deciding his own life takes precedence, but it is hard to get away when your hands are tied together with metal.

The Speaker, seeing that her fire is about to hit Alucard, falters. And in that moment Dracula wrenches his arm off of the blade and uses it to knock her down, before sending his other fist into his son, who goes flying along with his sword hitting the wall. This one may not be so hard as to bruise, but, with everything aching and breaking, the smallest tap hurts Castlevania.

The Belmont pulls a blade of bone from his back-belt, and as Dracula turns he drives it into his chest.

It’s not close enough to his heart, but red distaste fills Dracula’s eyes. He thought this was a game, but they have some amount of ability, and he may have underestimated them. As Alucard and the magician get up he attempts to grab at the Belmont in quick motions, but he has some skill in dodging.

The Speaker rips off her shirt and cauterizes her wound as the Belmont and Dracula dance in the hallway, neither weapon hitting flesh.

Dracula sees the Speaker’s intent over his shoulder, and as the Belmont lunges at him grabs his arm and throws him into her, stopping both their attacks. An effective move, if Castlevania does say so itself.

Alucard sees his opening and rushes forward, pinning his father to the wall, which shatters behind them with a painful lurch.

Dracula puts his hands together and brings them down over his son’s head with such force the floor cracks.

And Castlevania coughs blood.

Alucard pushes his arms away and slaps both sides of his face, getting a grunt this time. Dracula sends him back with such force it almost seems like a shockwave, creating wind and smoke curling around them all.

The Speaker roots him in place by sending ice spears into his leg. The Belmont clears the smoke by spinning his whip, before creating more by sending that whip—the one he fed the vampires that didn’t agree with their compositions—sizzling into Dracula’s chest. There’s an explosion to be sure—a rather big one—but after the smoke dissipates, and a wait with bated breath, Dracula is still standing just as he was before—as Castlevania knew he would—like all he threw at him were words.

…At least at first, to show he isn’t taken down so easily. He does fall to his hands thereafter.

“The Morningstar whip.” The words are scratches in the carpet. “Well played, Belmont. But I am no ordinary vampire to be killed by your human magics.” The words sizzle on his tongue. “I am Vlad Dracula Tepes,” he crosses his arms with purpose. “and I have had ENOUGH!”

His voice is a shockwave of its own across the sea of stone and bone. He sweeps his hands to the sides, his cloak rising like wings as he floats into the air, and creates a ball of magma: the cheat that will end the game. He was going easy on them until now.

It rumbles towards them, eating the carpet as it goes—and Castlevania can feel the burning in its chest. The Belmont’s eyes widen with fear at last. The Speaker rises to the occasion without hesitation, and holds out her hands to stop it with the force of her magic. It’s a force to be reckoned with, for sure: at first she succeeds, but, though it may be slowing, it isn’t stopping, and her feet are slipping. The Belmont puts his back to hers, as any good friend and comrade would. Alucard phases in front of them, the burning wind rushing against his face. He calls his sword, which sings as it reaches his hand, poises it, and drives the point into the magma ball.

They each fight with all their might, the Belmont and the speaker begins to grunt with the weight of it. The ball gives a falter their way, and Castlevania is sure even three cannot match Dracula’s strength, but the Speaker gives a final push, which gives Alucard just the right amount of momentum to drive it back toward his father, who is as caught off guard by the display as Castlevania is. He needs no sword or magic to stop it, however, and puts his hands out to hold it. Gold and red push against each other, until Alucard gives a deciding motion, then another, another, each chipping away at the ball until the sword goes flying and it’s just Alucard’s arm against Dracula’s throat, and their momentum creates a sizzling tunnel in the wall.

Castlevania may not know what guns are, but it knows what it feels like to be shot.

The two burst into the library, shattering the already shattered mirror.

It was so quiet in here. Must they sully the silence with the sound of strife? They read here, once. Sometimes alone, sometimes to each other. Whispered to each other of history and mystery.

Dracula lands on the floor and Alucard floats above him in the room in which he once stood on his level and told his father calmly he wouldn’t stand for genocide.

There’s anger in his eyes now.

Dracula hisses, then gives a war cry, and the two allow their hungry fists to attempt to devour each other as best they can in the air, red and gold flashing.

The Belmont picks up a sword in the other room and, deciding it’d be best not to follow them through the tunnel—(Castlevania is glad for that decision. The wound is still raw and would more than likely sting tremendously if they walked on it)—he and the Speaker run up the stairs to follow them.

They’re on the floor now and their punches fly like starlings—their duel reflected in the shards of mirror fluttering, jittering about, ever awaiting their command, as if attempting to tap their shoulders and ask what they should do, and why they are hurting each other—until they are hitting the bookshelves they once were gentle with—lest the pages rip and the silence tear—the ones they once smiled and discussed philosophy beside.

Castlevania’s head aches, nausea in the back of its throat.

A smiling boy and his father handing him another book, saying if he liked the first he’d like the second too, are all but gone now.

Dracula throws Alucard into the ceiling, and enters the room above with an unearthly sound, in an unearthly way: only his cloak is visible, moving like slime. As his hungry footsteps lick the floor behind him, Alucard is heaving on his side that same floor, his hair falling across his face. He turns around, fear coating the sound he makes as he, without his sword, grabs the nearest block of wood that happens to have a point on the end.

Dracula laughs, like they’re playing a game—(they did once, do they remember? Humans and monsters. Sometimes there were princes, and knights, or pirates. Even a princess or two. And the wolves and the bats were free in the night wind)—and stops.

“You mean to stake me?”

“You want me to.” Alucard murmurs, turning around with some difficulty.

“What?” Dracula chuckles, still with that put-the-toys-away intonation.

“You didn’t kill me before.” Alucard breathes. “You’re not going to kill me now. You want this to end as much as I do.” The look in his eyes is almost crazed.

“DO I?!” The tone is almost crazed in response, the nonchalant edge gone, the words resounding with power and grief.

Alucard scrambles away like an animal, causing Dracula to punch the floor instead of his head—Castlevania’s body lurches. It feels a gentle touch at its chin, someone trying to wipe the blood off perhaps.

“You died when my mother died. You know you did.” He reasons as Dracula’s breathing gains weight. “This entire catastrophe has been nothing but history’s longest suicide note.”

Castlevania jerks its head up, eyes wide at these words.

And Castlevania understands.

The cold, the dark, the empty, the death. They all make sense now.

Alucard rushes at him, Dracula knocks the stake out of Alucard’s hand with ease, but, in a moment of extreme dexterity, Alucard manages to grab it from the air and drive it into his chest still. The look in his eyes is almost pleading, like he’s going to ask “Daddy did I do a good job? Did I do it right? I’ve gotten better at fighting haven’t I?”

“Not quite close enough.” There is a gurgling quality to Dracula’s enunciation.

No more playing.

He shoves Alucard so hard its into the next room.

Castlevania keels over onto the floor, it’s stomach aching and prickling.

Dracula pulls the stake out and heaves before rushing after.

Floors below the magician and the Belmont can hear them, and are trying their best to catch up, to have a say in this fight.

But Castlevania isn’t sure they have much chance of that, as they are flashing through the halls now, Alucard, a foot off the ground, zig-zagging between the walls in the narrow hall as Dracula keeps punching bloodless stone—

—(The stone may be bloodless, but god this hurts)—

Until Alucard punches him back, sending them into a room, a bedroom—(but not that one)—and the room is a pile of rubble with just that. And Castlevania can feel the splinters. That furniture was nice.

Dracula grabs Alucard’s face and shoves him into the dining room, pinning him to the table like he’ll eat him too if they’re not careful, and those chairs were perfectly nice too—

And Castlevania sees a little boy waiting at the table for his birthday surprise, and his father pulling out a burned cake, and his mother laughing. There was no fear then. Though its master was a creature of blood it never thirsted for theirs, and they knew this full well. Can they see it too? Why would they destroy this room if they did? Why would they destroy each other if they did? Are they even the same creatures as those in the memory?

At this point Castlevania is pretty sure they broke a few of its ribs.

Alucard kicks his face and gets on the table on all fours, rushing him into the next room still.

Castlevania’s bleeding, broken heart skips a beat. Surely they must have broken a few ribs, for how else could they get into Castlevania’s heart? The control room, where its gears still lie dripping, glowing as orange as a brand, once beating organs now blazing stalactites.

They punch each other along the platform, Dracula’s cloak whipping about, like a cat’s fur trying to make him look bigger and scarier.

They are framed in the paneless window—those bones have been all but broken too now. The frame where the picture—that is to say, the die—no longer sits. For Castlevania’s heart didn’t just break, it was destroyed when they brought it to this place, the place where its enemies once lived, and still stand today.

—(So why can Castlevania still feel it beat?)—

In the frame now is moon drunk on blood, a night soaked in tears—and the wind whispers to their cloaks, bidding them to whip around them.

Dracula draws in a hissing breath.

Alucard stands tall, his eyes aglow, gold melting into something new in this forge, his hair whipping about him as he raises his fist yet again.

They are getting tired. Their snarls have a weakened quality to them now.

—Can they see the father and son in this room, the father teaching his son that his Castle is special?—

But instead of just punching him, Alucard teleports beside his father, hitting his shoulder, sending a gust of wind to his face, then teleports around the room to send his fist into him over and over, from every possible angle, and some of his kick-offs create cracks in the already breaking bindings of the room.

It feels like pins and needles, but it’s okay. It’s okay.

Why?

Dracula’s grits his teeth, sharp as ever, his eyes alight with bloody determination, his hair playing about this gaze. To end it, on the next hit he grabs his face, shoving him by it onto the stone platform. He shoves him once, twice, a third, the metal cracking, the metal creaking—

Castlevania’s gut lurches, and it can taste bile and iron at the back of its throat, and it’s hard to breathe.

Then its master raises Alucard back up, holds him by the face in the air a moment, and punches him with such force he is blown across the length of the platform and through the thick stone wall into the next room—

And Castlevania vomits blood.

Dracula bolts after him, the dust creating patterns in his wake—and Castlevania could gaze in the clouds if it weren’t for whoever’s trying to slap it awake.

Alucard coughs, and it sounded deep.

Its master is nothing human now. There’s a growl in his throat as he marches towards him, and another cough in Alucard’s as he struggles to stand.

Another punch, but this one is not fast like the rest, nor is it blocked. Alucard tries to stand up, to rush towards him, but he is getting tired, and Dracula hits him again. Another growl. Alucard takes a single step back, soft against the floors. An exhale. Another of both, and as Dracula raises his fist the murmur—plea?—on his son’s lips sounds a lot like “Father,” as if he’s reached his limit, and has to stop the game.

It’s too late to hit quit now.

The vampire king doesn’t grant the plea—or perhaps even hear it; with a belabored punch he sends him into the next Room, rolling this time, instead of flying, the contents of the Room staying in tact…all except the bed, which catches the boy.

The next Room. But this one is not like the rest. It is not just a room.

This one breathes.

A gasp, another growl, a scratch against the wall, and—

Castlevania burned today in this bloody fight, on this bloody night. Its skin, its legs. Even its heart broke.

Castlevania. The thing that Vlad Tepes brought to life with a little bit of lightning, several gears, and a few words. No magic words, just words: the ones he spoke on lonely nights to the walls about how he’d like to be something more than ruthless.

Castlevania did everything it could. It lies burned and broken and unable to fight now because of it.

But none of that burned half as much as those scratches on its walls.

There have been many stories told about Dracula, and there will one day be more stories told about Dracula, books written, enough that one could fill libraries with just the retellings of his story. And Castlevania has no doubt that one day these scratches will be on their covers. This growl, these scratches are the signet of a vampire, of a monster: the disfigurement of his Castle, bloody intent directed at his son. The dark, the death, and the emptiness have overtaken completely. That is all a monster is, really. That is all he is now.

He marches into the Room, his cloak flowing, dipping and twirling in the broken wind. The sound of Alucard’s breathing fills the Room as he heaves against the bed.

Or maybe the breath is the Room’s own.

The Room has seen all that happened, it has been watching Castlevania beaten bloody till it could barely breathe, or see through the blood dripping down its face, let alone move. Castlevania could barely feel the comforting hands on it, the attempts to bandage the wounds, or at least stop the bleeding that it knew could only belong to the Room. Castlevania could barely hear the Room’s frantic, desperate calls to action, to get up, or just ask if it was okay. And now the Room stands, fists clenched at its sides. The Room wants to fight back. It will fight back.

The Room is not violent. From the very beginning it stood against all the violence, the dark, the empty, and the death. That was what it was made for, after all. As much as it would like to, it does not wrap its hand around Dracula’s throat, claws digging until it draws blood, and demand “How does it feel?! How does it feel to be on the receiving end?!”

The Room’s footsteps are soft as it comes up beside Dracula. It puts its hands over the king’s eyes and whispers in his ear, gently as it can:

“Remember me?”

Then, quietly as it came, it removes them, as if playing peekaboo, revealing that it was there the whole time, his eyes were just covered for a while.

It may as well have been removing scales, because Dracula freezes, his eyes wide, as if he’s seeing, not just the Room, but the whole world for the first in a long time—And he is. The first time with living eyes. And one sees things very differently with living eyes. And Castlevania was his world and it hopes he sees the world differently, for Castlevania is not a thing for him to beat and break. Just when Castlevania thought there was nothing left…there is something more than anger in his eyes now.

Dracula’s angry cloak quiets, falling docile at his feet: a sign of reverence towards the Room, and all it stands for.

Alucard, after allowing his breath to regain itself, looks up, his eyes widening too at his father. His father. No anger, no fear, not even determination now. Not in this Room. This Room is different. He remembers now: in the hush that has fallen across the world like freshly fallen snow, this is his father.

The Room kneels at it’s boy’s side, putting a hand on his shoulder feeling nothing but life and love, so much so it extends to the creature that created the scars on its throat, and on its boy’s chest.

“It’s okay. You can go to him now.” The Room says.

And it knows what that means.

It knows that sometimes peace comes at the price of war.

Dracula curls his hand, the one with the claw that just made marks on the walls that are written in stone, and will never be undone. Within the glow of the window, his reddened eyes too are no longer angry. For so long those eyes sat dormant, empty, and glazed in his skull and at last they contain something. The Room’s words have gotten through the glaze, shattered the glass.

“It’s your Room.”

It’s more than just a statement. He made a promise when he made this Room. This Room was to be his son’s Room. There would be no violence, not in this Room. Not ever. Not today in as much as not ten years ago. He will not hurt this Room. He will not dare touch it, for fear those claws will mark more than just the walls; that all the memories will come crashing down.

The words are not angry. They are not dark. They are not empty. They are not dead. They may seem dry, and stated, but they are dripping with such longing and loss it might fill the whole Castle.

The desk where Vlad taught Adrian of letters, and of numbers, and of the borders of the world. The wardrobe where Lisa dressed him up in fine clothes, and casual ones depending on the occasion—Dracula had so few special occasions to celebrate alone, they were a lovely thing. The bookshelf full of all the knowledge of immortals, and the stories of mortals. The carpet where the boy sat and played with his toys. The nightstand, still with a potion bottle upon it, and the cards of a game they’ve no doubt forgotten how to play, right where they left it long ago. The shelf above it with another bottle, and a tiny satchel of even tinier precious things, and a little toy lamb. The bed upon which Vlad and Lisa once sat and told stories, and sang lullabies, or else lay curled up next to him when the nightmares got too vicious to bear alone.

—(How many did he have to face alone?)—

And Castlevania can see them all. The father teaching his son to count, and to write. The mother running after her naked toddler, trying to convince him clothes really aren’t so bad. The careful pouring of the potions so they change color, or explode just right, the father smiling proudly when he gets the questions correct. The pride of the mother when her son won the game, and the way her husband said “again” like if they just played another round he would win this time. The boy playing with the lamb and the wolf; they they got along in his stories.

The control room never was Castlevania’s heart…was it?

Alucard stands—the motion fluid now—blue light caressing his face as he raises his eyes. Vlad too looks up. But they’re not looking at each other, or the Room, rather into the stars. Not the ones outside, the ones they painted—brushing paint upon each other’s noses, so long ago, and Castlevania can see that too—as if those stars hold all the bottled wishes of childhood. It always was crowning jewel of this Room.

Adrian’s eyes oscillate like perturbed waters, because he knows, he knows he’s about to lose it all. And yes, there’s a sort of childlike yearning in Adrian’s eyes, as if he’s wishing upon those stars that he didn’t have to do this, because he’d really rather find another way to spend this night.

The stars wipe the bloodstains off of Dracula’s eyes. The blood drains off the moon too, as if he is so powerful he can bid the sky to bleed.

His lips shake with long-forgotten words—(or maybe they were just buried, and not everything buried in a grave stays there)—and he holds his hands to his chest, if nothing else to stop them from hurting innocent boys and castles, and shuts his eyes.

“My boy.” The words are said like everything in him is breaking

And it is.

—(The control room never was Castlevania’s heart. Does that mean it never broke?)—

“I’m—I…” The word falls to the floor, so soft, like it’s the only apology he has to shed. “I’m… I’m killing my boy.” And the truth is so gentle and broken its almost more painful than all those punches to the walls.

He steps across the Room, and this time his footsteps are not foreboding, not marching nor stalking. They are soft. He is only walking. This boy is not his prey. Not in this Room.

He walks to the picture on the wall, the one called “Happy.”

Castlevania remembers the day they took it home. The painter really did do a good job, Lisa had said, and Castlevania agreed. Castlevania soon learned that even when they were not here, even when the boy was not small, even when they were not happy, that moment would still be captured upon the wall to return to any time they missed it. Long ago Dracula had no need of pictures and paintings. But those pictures have been everything to him, and everything left him, now that Lisa is gone. They are all the traces left of what they once were in this Castle. That picture—the one Dracula buried and tried to forget existed—that picture bottled happiness, and it gives Vlad back his happiness now. And it makes him so very sad.

“Lisa. I’m killing our boy.” Vlad says to the memory. “We painted this Room. We…made these toys.”

His eyes as they dart around the Room—to the books, to the basket with the wolf and the blocks—are glazed, but not in the same way as before, this time it is with memory, and that makes them more alive than ever, as are his words. And in that moment she is alive too, and he is Vlad, Lisa’s husband, and Adrian’s father.

“It’s our boy, Lisa.”

And then as he looks down his eyes are not glazed at all, rather they hold understanding. He understands what must be done.

Alucard’s foot pushes off the ground, bends the knee, stands, and, no, he is not Adrian, for there is a cracking, a cracking like lightning, a cracking like the world breaking.

And it is the most horrible sound either the Room or Castlevania have ever heard. More horrible than the squelching any heart Dracula ever ripped out. More horrible than the desperate pleas of his victims. More horrible than the cackles of his friends. More horrible than the crying of the child that Castlevania can still hear echoing through the Room.

—(The sound Castlevania hated so so long ago, and now longs for far more than anything else in the world, longs for that painting to swallow the universe and bring it to life again)—

Castlevania and the Room can both feel that sound like a thousand splinters and spider bites, like both of them shattering as if they were made of glass after all. Even the furniture here bleeds.

Vlad backs up, putting his hands over his face—Don’t hurt them, they don’t know what they’re doing—

—(Yet…he hurt them all. So much so he didn’t just disgrace her words, he tried to kill her gift, their son, her blood)—

“Your greatest gift to me. And I’m killing him.”

He lifts his hands from his face and looks into his son’s eyes, his own so alive, despite their glass, tilting his head to the side. Everything slow and gentle now. He is Vlad. He is Adrian’s father. Not the vampire king who put innocents on stakes. But they all know something happened to Vlad on the night Lisa died.

“I must already be dead.”

And Castlevania, burned and bleeding, understands. The final piece of the puzzle has been put into place. It has been dead too. It’s life, bound in red to its master, will break to the call of a stake. Because a reflection cannot exist without the thing it reflects.

Because…they are mortal.

That was the trade, all those years ago: immortality for mortality. Lisa would gain an immortal mind, and Dracula a mortal soul. He would teach Lisa the knowledge of immortals, the methods of healing that must be kept secret to live with a vampire like time held no grip on them. And she would teach him how to live as a man, how to travel as a man, how to care for his son, as a man, as a father. And in that moment his soul was bound to hers.

She brought the undeath in him to life, and Castlevania understands; only things that are alive can die.

It learned through Lisa, through Adrian, what it was to be alive. And it knew that undeath, while not death, is not life. Dracula was undead and his body could not die. But now that she brought him to life, he could die. His soul already died with her. He’s been rotting in an empty shell—no wonder Death could tie those puppet strings to him. That’s why the emptiness in him was so active; cold and dark and empty were only adjectives before, now they are nouns; he was emptiness, death, walking around. And that, too, is what Castlevania has become. It too is mortal. It didn’t die with her, but something in it ceased to tick when Dracula came back without a soul in his chest, and it knows, bruised and burned, broken, and bleeding that that stake in his son’s hand is calling them both.

You knew all along, didn’t you? Castlevania asks the Room, and there is no malice, no blame, there.

The Room jerks its head up to look at Castlevania, then its eyes soften and it grimaces. I hoped I was wrong. The Room replies softly. I…I hoped there was another way.

Alucard’s eyes hold some sympathy, some semblance of the boy they once knew, in fact rather too much, for both threaten to pour out of those eyes and stop all this. He doesn’t want to. But it’s too late for anything else.

Vlad eyes hold some semblance of the man they once knew, so much so they threaten to make him something more than ruthless, something that doesn’t deserve to die. He closes them tilting his head. He knows what must be done.

There is no anger in either of their eyes, no determination, not even resolve. Not anymore. Adrian wants to free his father in the only way he can.

A step forward, and this step has purpose, that stake is silently growling, drooling at his side as he stalks his prey. Another. Another. Like the beating of all their hearts, and the atmosphere is so silent that everything can only break.

And Dracula will not stop him, will not fight back. Not this time. Like all those times he let his son win, because even though he was more skilled at at the game, it was more satisfying to see Adrian smile.

He is not here to talk things out.

Alucard barely raises that stake—

A second horrible cracking, this one in flesh.

This time he aimed higher.

Dracula’s mouth fills with blood, it seeps through the cracks in his teeth. The blood from his chest drains down the stake—the broken piece of childhood—down his son’s arm, collecting on his elbow, and when it hits the carpet a burn begins to appear on the Room’s chest.

A grunt as Vlad leans forward, the blood dripping from his mouth to the floor—another angry gash upon the Room’s skin, and the Room is trying to pretend it’s okay, but it can’t hide the hurt in its eyes.

It knew what had to be done…but the violence goes against its nature.

His eyes fill with blood, but not from undead purpose. The moon is still clean. These are those bloody tears, the ones from the song earlier today. He is free, relieved…and he will never see his son again.

“Son.”

To remember the living, and those who will live on without him.

And the word is spoken very differently than it was earlier today. Then it was solid and hollow. Now it is ghostly, and so full it could hold all the world. Their world, at least.

This Room, this Castle, that word. They are their whole world.

And it is an honor to have been a world to such terrible, wonderful creatures.

“Father.”

To honor the dying, and what they once were while alive.

The word on Adrian’s tongue is the same, though more solid, more alive, and thus able to hold more pain. A faltering breath, a cracking forgiveness.

The word means something now, at the end, where before they were nothing more than titles. They are pleading with each other. They are bleeding with each other.

They don’t want to do this. They shouldn’t have to. It is far too cruel.

Mothers shouldn’t have to bury their daughters, and sons shouldn’t have to kill their fathers. It’s an unspoken rule of life.

But Alucard can’t stop there. He must finish this. The fire, the resolve regurgitates in his eyes, and he pushes harder, like with the magma ball, and, no, this cracking is worse, because Castlevania can feel it in its own chest now.

Castlevania can hear its master’s heartbeat, can feel it with the drops of blood dripping and sizzling on the floor, and it thinks it might just be its own heartbeat.

Alucard does not hate his father: there is pain on his face. But he cannot stop there.

He must end this war. And unlike those given with kisses to his forehead once, this goodnight is not gentle. Not this time.

He inhales,

closes his eyes,

and breaks his father’s chest.

That stake goes right through Castlevania, and something in it involuntary breaks.

The control room never was Castlevania’s heart. The destruction of the die was merely the amputation of both its legs, still bleeding out. This is a breaking, not of skin or bone, but of something deeper. It thinks this might just be what it feels like to cry.

And something happens in the breaking. A change of some sort. Castlevania isn’t quite sure what—pain and disorientation are the best of friends—all it knows is that the world is smaller now, and hurts less.

And as Castlevania’s heart breaks, the reflection in the painting shatters, the reflection of the bond between father and son severing with a stake.

The world is so much smaller now.

Dracula’s head jerks back and, eyes now seeing something other than this world.

Dracula is no ordinary vampire, so he does not die like an ordinary vampire. Rather than catching on fire, there’s just smoke and ash; his face drains, turning from ghostly pale to a charcoal, black without flame, before it really is ash, sliding off his face, his cloak like sludge.

There’s no orange, just the red stain, and the grey his life was marred of. Ash and smoke. The true undeath.

Alucard turns his face away, still holding the stake in place.

Dracula lifts up a hand, a skeleton hand, and Alucard turns to see the skin sloughing off around his ring. Though his spirit may have left, it seems his body won’t quite let go of this world; with mere bones Dracula reaches out, takes a step forward, as if to touch his face, to hold his son one last time, to catch the last embrace he was not afforded.

Adrian has shed that resolve, now he can do nothing but take slow and careful steps back away from the monster he has no sword or shield to fight. He the child again, the one who belonged in this Room, shying away. He is Adrian, the one who didn’t like the stories that were bloody. And in all the years the boy spent in this Room, the sheer fear in Adrian’s eyes as he looks up to see his father’s rotted face, with mouth agape, leaning bloodlessly towards him—an image that Castlevania fears will haunt him the rest of his days—is matchless.

Hurried footsteps at the door. The Speaker and the Belmont, at last, have made it to the show, though it seems they paid for only the final song. They step upon the threshold to see the rotting corpse of the king stepping towards his fearful, tearful price.

The Belmont draws his sword, and Dracula’s deflated head—the one that seemed so alive moments earlier—lies in a bloody pool on the floor. And as the neck bleeds and the Belmont watches the body fall to the floor, he isn’t sure if that was enough.

And Castlevania can’t feel its heartbeat anymore.

“Alucard. Step back.” Sypha’s voice is tempered. “Let me finish this.”

He does, the steps cautious and small, sorrow in his gaze. He holds the unbroken bedpost till his hand shakes.

Castlevania never liked children, the crying, the leaving, the guests, or being controlled.

But it did like Lisa. It did like Adrian. And—be it a sting—it did like the sunlight. And always and forever, it loved its master. A reflection cannot help but adore the thing it reflects. A creation cannot help but be a worshipper of its creator. A dream cannot help but revere its dreamer.

“You want me to.”

Smiling a little at how true the words were, in the end, Castlevania found it quite liked the relief.

Castlevania puts a hand on the Room’s cheek, smiling, and its mouth tastes less like blood now. It looks at the moon—bleeding no longer—and blue calm fills every part of it.

“What a wonderful night to have a curse.”

The Room stares at the castle, a little horrified by the sentiment.

“What…What should I do?” The Room stutters, fear and realization coating its words, for it knows what’s happening.

Castlevania smiles wider than ever, and its voice sounds softer; “The children.”

“What?”

“You should let them in. Any child who needs refuge. Along with as many guests as your master wants to welcome. And you should cry. Cry when you need to—and let your master cry too. Stay, but let him leave, if he must, knowing he will always come back. Let yourself be controlled at times, because sometimes that which feels the least right is the most right.”

“I—I don’t understand.”

“Be warm. Let the light in every window. Be full, and most of all, live. Can you do that for me?”

The Room holds onto the Castle to keep it from falling, tears already descending its cheeks.

“I—I will try.”

The Speaker lets the flame loose to eat the pieces, to engulf its master’s body in the fire he stared at all along, as if yearning for its embrace, creating a spiral of flame upon the circle in the carpet.

They were right to assume it wasn’t over, at least, because there are shapes in the flames; from the smoke and ashes rises a tower of skulls, a legion of spirits, more than a one king’s soul should hold. They’re all crying havoc, war, blood and pain from a yesterday long forgotten. Their smoke snuffs out the flame, blight covering the Room, blocking out the stars that so enraptured them earlier. Sypha and the Belmont cover their faces, but Alucard is unsurprised and undaunted by the darkness lurking in his father’s chest, and faces it without looking away. This darkness bursts out the window like a flower bloom, flows like a river out into the hall—the one cracked and bruising—flying over the war Room where the war resides no longer, and escapes into the night, fluttering, spiraling around Castlevania’s parapets like butterflies.

On the charred floor, the only thing left of the king is his wedding ring.

Castlevania sees the vampire king as he once was; young and restless. The skeletons eating stakes. Castlevania remembers what it once was: lightning, books, gears, and a few lonely words. It sees the woman with the knife at the door. It watches them build the Room. It watches the boy grow up into this beautiful thing.

Castlevania always wondered if it could breathe. It was never quite sure. The Room always seemed to possess a kind of life it never had; a life that hid in the breath.

“Take good care of him for me,” Castlevania murmurs to the Room.

“Have I ever failed you before?” The Room tries to smile, wiping its eyes.

As the sun rises over the hills, a single ray filters in through Castlevania’s window, touching it, filling every part of it, and for once it doesn’t sting.

And with the last sigh of the last ghost circling the parapets, Castlevania exhales its last breath.

67 notes · View notes

daisybeewrites · 3 years

Text

Academy Blues

oh, deer

word count: 2.8k

warnings: none for this chapter, vague foreshadowing

ship: dousy (daisy johnson x daniel sousa), background Fitzsimmons and Philinda

heyyyyy…. yes i posted it early on Ao3

howeverrr you guys are gonna like this chapter. i just feel it in my bones (bc its fluffy and the angst starts kicking in in the next one)

“You look like Rudolph, Daisy,” Elena greeted.

Daisy took a large swig of coffee, rolling her eyes but smirking. The pair were walking together to Elena’s first class after a tough early-morning spar.

“You’re the one who punched me where I already had a bruise,” Daisy shot back.

“Hey, I already told you I was aiming for the jaw. It’s not my fault you didn’t duck quick enough.”

They laughed as Elena swiped her key card to the comms building. Daisy held the door for Elena, shoving her lightly in the back as she passed.

“Hey!”

“Not my fault you can’t see backwards,” Daisy teased.

It was Elena’s turn to roll her eyes and laugh, slowing to a stop outside May’s lecture room.

“Right. Wish me luck, I heard May was giving a pop quiz today,” Elena grimaced.

“You don’t need any luck. I’ll see ya, Elena,” Daisy replied.

“Yeah, you will!” Elena said, backing into May’s large lecture room.

Daisy watched her wave and sit down with a group of third-years, her perfect french braids swishing behind her, before turning around. Daisy didn’t have a moment to think about where she was going before she ran into a solid wall.

Daisy looked up into a pair of dark chocolate eyes, crinkled at the edges with a small smile. The wall’s hair was ruffled, as if he had just gotten out of bed. He wore black SHIELD sweats and a white t-shirt. The wall was very attractive. She vaguely registered the smattering of books on the ground, her mind more focused on his hands on her shoulders.

“Daisy, are you okay?”

She must have been staring for too long. “Yeah, I’m good! Great! Sorry, Sousa,” she apologized, quickly bending over to pick up his books. She almost dropped them again when his hand brushed hers while she handed the thick textbooks back. She gave him a quick smile, taking a deep breath to compose herself, reciting her affirmations. I am Daisy Johnson. I am an Agent of SHIELD. I can move the Earth. I am powerful. I am in control of myself.

Daniel’s smile grew a bit when he heard Daisy laughing quietly to herself.

“I guess you could say I really swept you off your feet.”

Daniel chuckled at the quip, his hands still on her shoulders. “Yeah. Foot,” Daniel corrected. Daisy furrowed her brows, but ignored the strange comment.

“Right. Well, the bell—” Daisy was cut off by a long, high-pitched bell. She closed her eyes tight, the blaring alarm causing tiny vibrations to travel through her skull. When she opened them, Daniel was still standing in front of her, white tee and black sweats and messy morning hair encouraging just a bit more flirting before he had to leave.

“Wow, look at you. Late! I’m a bad influence on you, Danny.”

Daniel shrugged, glancing at his watch. “S’not the first time,” he murmured lowly, stepping away and giving her a last look before he disappeared into the classroom.

Daisy pretended not to notice her heart rate had risen from it’s usual sixty beats-per-minute to seventy-six beats-per-minute.

Daisy spent the rest of the day absentmindedly completing work in her classes. For some reason, flirting with Daniel felt… different than it had with her exes. Even her exes in SHIELD. Daniel was grounded. He had a calm presence. Being late didn’t phase him in the slightest; Daisy would have internally berated herself for the rest of the day.

She was finishing a short answer assignment from International Law and SHIELD Policy while stretching on the outdoor training grounds when she saw him again: still in sweats despite the heat. He was still walking with same, familiar limp. Then it clicked—’Foot’; the throwaway comment from earlier made much more sense now. He had a prosthetic. Before she could think anymore about that revelation, May called the Ops trainees to gather around her under a giant maple tree. Daisy was the last to get up, hanging towards the back as usual.

“Ops training, eh?”

Sousa turned to Daisy standing beside him, breaking his focus on May to turn to her. “Yeah. I used to be military, remember? 28th Infantry Recon Scout. I figure I’ve got to get at least near the level I used to be before I can go in the field.”

Daisy nodded, her hair caught in a slight breeze. “As long as you don’t steal my crown as the Queen of Spar, Master of Field Ops Physical Training.”

Daniel chuckled quietly, turning his attention back to May, who was explaining today’s exercises.

“Partners,” Daisy breathed. Daisy hated partners, unless it was May. She’d rather condition. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the other trainees, they were great people! But her nerves got the better of her and she ended up holding back, not helping herself or her partner. She knew how to control her powers, how to keep herself from using them while sparring. Whispers of doubt and guilt still invaded, fogging her mind like deadly mist.

You could kill them. It’s happened before…

She was taken back to the moment by Daniel tapping her shoulder. “Partners?”

Daisy reluctantly nodded and motioned to him to follow her over to a thick pad of grass next to a small willow tree.

“So, what exactly are we supposed to be doing? It’s Tuesday, which is usually a mix of breathing and nerve control and focusing on technique, rather than strength.”

Daniel glanced over at the other partners, who were all going through defensive and offensive stances slowly, like tai chi, he thought.

Daisy walked closer to where he had stopped beside the willow, pointing out a pair of partners moving almost in sync.

“They’re focusing on how their breathing can help their fighting. Mentally and physically. If you’re nervous, your heart rate spikes, your brain goes fuzzy and then your body gets sloppy. If you aren’t breathing, your heart rate spikes, your brain goes fuzzy and your body gets sloppy. Breath can make a punch more powerful and a kick more accurate, if you know how to use it. I’ll show you the moves.”

Defensive, offensive, block, strike, block, kick. Daisy continued in a cycle until Sousa could mirror her movements with little effort.

Daisy stopped him then. “Great! You’re a quick learner,” She winked, smiling wide.

Daniel smiled back, “So how do I do the breathing thing?”

Daisy pondered how to explain it for a second. “You have to flow, like water. You control your breathing, you have the power. But at the same time, you have to let the air flow naturally. The moves will align with your breath, don’t force it.”

Daniel nodded, and they were off. It took a minute to get into the groove, but once he did, it felt effortless. Every kick, block, inhale and turn, exhale and strike came naturally. It gave him the opportunity to study Daisy.

Usually, especially in the early mornings in the computer lab, Daisy looked tired. Her brows were drawn slightly, fingers fidgeting, knee bouncing. In the halls she walked briskly and adjusted her bag or checked her watch often, a small tic she didn’t seem to notice. Right now, though, breeze across her olive skin, Daisy looked cool as water.

She felt the earth beneath her. The trees and grass and flowers in the wind. She tuned in to the radio of her surroundings, letting her muscle memory guide her. The forest was really loud. The concrete buildings had a sort of buzz, too. They mixed in her bones like the sounds of a great symphony, low rumbles and high-pitched chittering and long, constant notes that provided a harmony to the undulating melody. The frequencies of each living and non-living thing in the area seemed to be flowing around her, steady.

Daniel softly stared at her as she moved through the flow with him. She was very good at this. He was having a bit of trouble, though he doubted he would be having this much trouble if it wasn't Daisy right in front of him. For an exercise designed to relax them, wasn’t it counterintuitive to partner with the girl that made his heart skip a beat when she smiled?

When May clapped her hands and signaled the end of the session, the tired, sweaty kids gathered around May’s oak tree. The sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon, bringing a glow to each of their faces. Daisy looked radiant.

“Class is dismissed. Tomorrow, we’re conditioning,” May warned. In a quieter voice, May called, “Daisy, can you hang for a second?”

Daisy stepped away from her bag and towards May. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. I have a question for you. Would you mind giving up your free period three times a week?”

Daisy’s eyebrows raised, no classes that she knew of only took place three times a week. “I want to say yes, but I’d also like to know why?”

“Fair. Top brass called. If you want to be a field agent with powers, you’ve got to practice fighting with them, get comfortable with them. I know everything that happened with Lincoln…” May paused, gauging Daisy’s reaction. When there wasn’t any, May continued. “Your powers didn’t make you an agent, I did.”

May paused, giving Daisy a chance to settle her thoughts before adding, “But I think this is important.”

Daisy slowly nodded. If this was important to May, then Daisy had no problems giving up her free period.

“Who will I train with?” she asked.

May smiled. “Meet Yo-Yo and I behind the garage at seven sharp tomorrow morning.΅

Daisy saluted playfully, wandering to her bag and walking in the direction the other students had gone. She could see them filtering into the cafeteria. A smoothie sounded nice…

The canteen was full of students grabbing plates of chicken and veggie tacos. Daisy was always happy during dinner on taco Tuesday. She grabbed her plate and a small green juice and searched for a familiar pair of heads, warm brown eyes and freckles sitting next to dirty blonde curls.

As she approached, two hands went up, waving. Weaving her way through students, she saw Fitz pat the seat beside him.

“Oi, Dais! I've got something to show you!”

Daisy sat down, her attention drawn to the tiny device on the table in front of her. It was small enough to fit in her hand, but surprisingly heavy for its size. Multiple coloured wires stuck out from various surfaces. Fitz was grinning at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He pressed a button on a small remote that sat on the table. Daisy looked over at Jemma, puzzled. Was something supposed to be happening?

Daisy glanced down at her hand. There was nothing there but a constant weight.

“Fitz! You replicated cloaking!”

Jemma and Fitz immediately shushed her, looking around. “He wasn’t supposed to! It’s above his ‘level’. Professor Weaver practically forbid him.”

Daisy’s eyes widened. This was very Fitz. Tell him he can’t, and he will, just to prove it to himself. Holding it up to eye level and moving it around, Daisy marveled at the seamless invisibility. “What are you gonna do with it?”

Fitz shrugged. He began to explain a number of uses for the device, along with the technical modifications he’d have to make for them to work. She tuned out after Jemma exasperatedly told him they couldn’t train monkeys to be invisible recon scouts.

Her plan to learn something from Fitzsimmons banter was derailed when Daisy noticed a shadow at the corner of her eye. It slipped away as quickly as it came, around the corner of the cafeteria and out of sight.

Why was she getting déjà vu?

“Dais, you alright there?” Fitz asked quietly.

Daisy turned back to him, smiling. “Yeah, I thought I saw something. Probably just tired.”

The sandy blonde boy laughed, “S’only Tuesday, Dais. We’ve got a whole week ahead of us!”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’ve got six tests this week!” Simmons countered.

Daisy’s mouth opened in surprise, quickly shut when Fitz made a comment about catching flies. “Wait, so you aren’t excited for the tests?”

Jemma shook her head miserably, her amber eyes rolling. “No. Usually I would be, it’s so odd! But I was studying the other night and reviewing old tests, and my chest felt so heavy and my head started spinning—”

Fitz stopped her by putting his hand over hers, gently reassuring her. Watching the two, Daisy thought her heart might burst, a bubbly feeling rising in her chest.

Jemma turned back to her, considerably less distressed.

“Do you want some help studying?” Daisy offered.

Jemma nodded. “Tonight, 8, the rooftop?”

The group nodded.

At eight o’clock, Daisy carefully climbed out her window and around the corner to the fire escape. The stairs whispered and creaked with the wind, but you would never know anyone was climbing the iron to the roof unless you ran directly into her.

She arrived at the last landing, one floor above her own, and crouched down. She jumped, using small quakes as a make-shift propulsor. Jemma turned her head towards the soft thump of Daisy landing on the roof.

The space was decorated with a jungle of potted plants and fairy lights strung around the ledge, mix-matched multicoloured and shades of white. They cast a warm glow across the spread of notes and textbooks neatly placed in front of Jemma. Daisy approached, pulling out her laptop and a pouch of pens, pencils, highlighters, and white-out.

“Ready for our study date?”

Jemma smiled. “Yes. Fitz should be here any minute.”

The two girls got comfortable, beginning to go over notes and chat idly. Daisy wrote down vocab and key ideas on note cards and organised them by subject. Jemma laughed loudly when Daisy expressed her confusion at the difference between the three biochemistries that she was taking. Suddenly, loud clanging was heard from the side of the building.

“Daisy! Jems!”

The two girls shared a glance at the panicked voice. Fitz.

They rushed over to where he would be coming onto the iron landing, grabbing his hand and helping him over the concrete barrier onto the roof.

Fitz supported himself on his knees, panting. “There's a guy down there. Creepy bastard.”

Jemma and Daisy shared another glance, this one full of concern and trepidation.

Fitz pointed to Daisy. “Askin’ about you, Dais. Your…” Fitz trailed off, drawing waves in the air with his hand.

Jemma rested a hand on Daisy’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. “Go check it out, we’ll be here when you get back.”

Daisy reluctantly jumped onto the metal landing below, resisting the urge to use her powers to cushion her landing. She quickly checked the perimeter of the dorm, then wandered closer to the forest that backed up to the dorms.

If only she had night vision as well as the power to create earthquakes.

A subtle movement caught her eye, a dark silhouette shifting in between the trees. A haze of clouds covered the moon, making the forest darker than usual. Daisy stepped forward slowly, her breath speeding up.

The air seemed electric, the few clouds in the sky bloodred with the remaining rays of sunset. The tall pines and thick oaks were silhouetted black against the sky, branches seeming to reach out to grab the twilight shadows. Daisy threw a quick glance over her shoulder, letting out a relieved exhale when she saw Fitz and Jemma watching over her from the roof.

A twig snapped right in front of Daisy, the treeline only twenty feet away. Daisy felt the echo bounce around the forest. She took a deep breath, steadying her hands and lungs. Something, someone, was right on the other side of those bushes…

“AAGH!”

A deer leapt out of the brush, landing right in front of her. Its large doe eyes stared at her, ears back. It was just a fawn.

Daisy slowly let out a sigh of relief, dropping her arms from where they had come up in front of her. She snorted.

“You’re just a baby. What are you doing in the bushes by yourself?”

Daisy tentatively reached out, the fawn showed no signs of moving. She opened her palm, letting the deer sniff before it bounded away across the field.

Daisy sighed. She felt something was off, like you would the moment before you were struck by lightning. Like any second, something else would pop out of the forest, this time a real threat…

Silence.

Stillness.

Daisy sighed, shaking her head and rubbing her eyes. I just need sleep. If the paranoia has set in, I definitely need sleep.

Daisy headed back to the dorms, the feeling of eyes on her following until she was safely on the roof with her friends.

The twinkling fairy lights lit the rest of their evening, shadows and deer forgotten in the warmth of laughs and starlight.

#daisy johnson #dousy #daisy johnson/daniel sousa #fitzsimmons #jemma simmons #daniel sousa #leo fitz #timequake #fic #philinda #philindaisy #academy au #ashby writes #x reader #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#marvel #aos #melinda may

22 notes · View notes

embrassemoi · 3 years

Text

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars • 10

Pairings: Sirius Black x [F]Reader, Remus Lupin x [F]Reader Content: Language, possible errors, introducing more Marlene, unreliable narrative-ish Author’s notes: Ngl, I had to rush this one.

Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 9: One Hundred and Fifty Points

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

November rolled around signifying the start of the new Quidditch season. Inside the great hall was flooded with the smell of sausages and fried eggs along with the cheerful chatter of students looking forward to the first match.

Gryffindor and Slytherin were the first teams set to play and their relationship had never been so tense until now; even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who liked to join in on the playful raillery decided not to participate.

Whenever a Gryffindor was to pass by the Slytherin table to get to their respective seats or simply walk through the entrance, a hassle of insults and boos would follow and vice versa.

While both houses had their own tactics to mess with each other, the Slytherins had tactics that transpired off the pitch and were brought into daily life. It was a smart move, and some of the newer Gryffindor players allowed it to bother them even before stepping foot onto the field. The insults built over the past couple of years, largely because Gryffindor had yet to lose a single game since James joined the team a little over three years ago.

And since James was newly appointed captain, they were relentless.

In the days leading up to the match, whenever Y/N accompanied James through the halls, whispers of childish remarks like, “I bet Potty is going to go to the potty after Talkalot throws him off his broom,” and other insults follow him, varying from his abilities or his capability to lead his team to victory.

Despite the relentless jeers, James managed to take them in stride, constantly donning a bright smile. Not once had it wavered him or chilled his blood. If anything, he took it as a compliment and even bounced off of it with a witty response. A few times, he even repeated the insult, announcing it loud enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear before turning the joke on them.

But today, he finally cracked. Marlene, who joined the team last year as a chaser, was beyond ecstatic while James’ smile was non-existent. It was fairly evident to everyone who knew him that his smile and body language faked confidence in an attempt to mask nervousness.

As his first year as captain, James had an extreme burden on his shoulders. Stakes were at an all-time high to continue the three-year-long title holder of the Quidditch cup. He was under a constant microscope. Everyone was curious to see how James led his team. Not only did he have to prove his abilities as a leader but was also in jeopardy of staying captain for next year. His status depended on these games.

Additionally, the potential loss would be devastating. James was not the first pick as captain for this year. Charlie Bell, a seventh year, was supposed to take his place with James coaching the year after he left, but Bell stepped down, preferring to spend his time focusing on NEWT revisions. Although due to his time studying, Bell’s abilities were admittedly sloppy and began to worry James as he was not up to his standards.

Although in Y/N’s (biased) opinion, James had nothing to worry about.

He insisted on daily practices ever since try-outs were held in early September. It was even hard to catch Marlene who’d been James’ left-hand man of sorts. Today, the two players woke up bright and early in preparation for the first game. They woke up at six o’clock in the morning, to Marlene’s dismay, and went for a light jog and a quick exercise. The rest of the Gryffindor team was there and went over their ground plan again.

Y/N had seen a few of their practices to support them and bring any food incase they missed breakfast or dinner. James was absolutely merciful. Like any good captain, he listened and attended to the needs of his players, but he held Marlene’s opinion higher than the rest.

Rumours floated around the two and she was excited to see if they held true. Both players had become great partners and were almost unstoppable on the field. Because of this, it was highly anticipated that Gryffindor was going to win, especially with how gruelling James’ coaching methods were compared to former captains. Bets were placed ranging from Knuts, Sickles and Galleons.

Due to the overwhelming pressure, James was at a loss for words, for once. His anxiety spiked and the only person who could talk any sense into was Marlene; both sharing an odd, yet special bond.

Even in the days leading up, Mcgonagall, who she’d found out was very gifted and a huge fan of the sport, took notice of his unusual and quiet behaviour. McGonagall let loose, avoiding giving out homework for the week. She had even opted to avoid giving James any.

It was quite clear McGonagall had a soft spot for the marauders, often letting them do as they pleased while at harshest, taking away house points and sparingly handing them detentions. James, of course, had been using this to his advantage as he pleaded to give the entire Gryffindor team no homework using the famous ‘but we have practice!’ excuse.

When she arrived in the hall with Dorcas, the moment they walked through the entrance, the Slytherin table booed in their direction but was rivalled with a thunderous welcome from the Gryffindor table. Everyone in sight wore red and gold.

James had a vice-grip on Quidditch Through the Ages while in the other hand, tried but failed, to shovel potatoes in his mouth. Marlene sat on his left, reviewing several techniques they could use last minute that the Slytherins may not expect coming. They were already wearing their jerseys. Plastered on Marlene’s chest in bright yellow was the number 6 while James was 7. Their uniforms were identical aside from the pin on James’ shirt that caught everyone’s attention. A shiny new captain’s badge sitting proudly on his chest.

Both were talking to each other rapidly, barely registering their friends sitting down beside them.

“Don’t be thick,” said Marlene, “This is going to work. Stop second-guessing.”

“I’m mental. Abso-fucking-bloody-mental … What was I thinking?”

“Potter,” she scolds, “get it together. Now, in about an hour, we’re going to be walking on the pitch. We’ve practiced for hours — days even — much more than the Slytherins have. You were made captain for a reason and we have back-up plans. We’re beyond ready.”

He sighs, taking a deep inhale. “Okay… Okay.”

Within a few seconds, the air around him shifts and James' assertive and authoritative side takes over. “What were you suggesting earlier?”

“We have to go underneath and cut them off. Trust me, they won’t expect it.”

“Where do you want me?”

“What broom model do you have?”

“Nimbus 1984.”

Marlene scoffs, “Should’ve known, Mr. ‘Trust fund’ Potter. Anyway, yours is the fastest and newest — ought to be the first one to cut ‘em. Lead the way.”

James stops to ponder before bobbing his head in agreement, “Sounds good, but Bell?”

“— do you think he can do it?”

“Not sure. Maybe he will once the rush comes — no — we can use him as a decoy then.”

The sudden uproar of cheers and boos of both Gryffindors and Slytherins attempting to drown each other reached the table’s ears again, James looked down at his lap. Even Marlene’s leg started bouncing up and down.

Lily was about to make a harmless jab before Marlene’s eyes shot up to her, shaking her head warningly.

James was truly losing his shit inside and out.

“Mental,” he grumbles out. He barely registers his body move on its own accord. Marlene followed his lead, getting up with him before his attention was drawn back to everyone in front of him.

“You coming, right? Gotta see my moves,” James tries to joke, looking at Y/N.

“She better or I’ll drag her onto the field.” Marlene cuts in. Judging by the burning look in her eyes, Marlene was far from joking.

“Of course I will.” She then directs the next sentence mostly to James, “You’re going to crush them.”

A nod of approval comes from both players. Marlene’s chest puffs out from the praise, even going as far to dramatically flick her hair over her shoulder while James seems to relax considerably.

“Of course we are. You are talking to the King of Quidditch.”

“Hem hem — and queen!”

“My bad — and queen. We’re going to win.” It was nice seeing his arrogant side back.

“Pff— that’s not even a question,” Marlene says, “I’d rather fling my body off a tower if we lose this game.”

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

At eleven o’clock sharp, the entire school sat in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. From there, she could smell the fresh-cut grass, filling the air as cold steel filtered through her lungs. It was refreshing and tickled the inside of her nose. The seats were raised high, a warming charm placed on them, courtesy of Flitwick.

Flakes of dewey frost coated the field and stands. The wind howled as a few brooms whipped back and forth, checking to see if everything was in proper condition before the start of the game. Unfortunately for the players, stormy grey clouds were raised high and there was a high risk of rain or snow. It surely was going to make catching the Golden Snitch harder.

All the girls were there to support Marlene. Lily and Dorcas went all out and brought a huge poster. Streaks of red and gold were painted underneath their eyes as leftover gold tinsel from the Halloween party was woven into Lily’s hair. Many other students also held large signs, waving flags; even Y/N and Mary had binoculars secured around their necks.

A large lion was charmed onto the sign, moving back and forth before opening its mouth to roar. In bold letters, it read Gryffindor’s Weapon, McKinnon! Dorcas placed another charm on so the letters interchanged between red and gold, flashing similar to a new-maj diner sign.

Madam Hooch stood in the middle of the pitch. In a flash, the two teams came out, shouldering their brooms in a single file line from two hidden doors beneath the stands. At the front, the team’s respective captains led them to the middle. A deafening applause greeted them. Some players even waved back to the crowd for louder cheers.

A few rows down, sitting in the very front was Sirius and Peter, rapidly waving their arms around and cheering. Peter bent down, pulling up a sign that read Potter’s Preeminence . Even with the distance, Y/N could hear Sirius’ screaming. He wore a paper mache lion head while Peter wore the body of a lion.

‘YOU GOT THIS PRONGS! FUCKING CRUSH THEIR TINY LITTLE SNAKE BONES— LET’S GO GRYFFINDOR, LET’S GO WOOWOO!”

What caught her eye was Remus’ absence. She was under the impression that he and James were close friends, so surely he would have been there in support knowing that this game was immensely important to him.

Back on the field, the captains shook their hands. James’ head was held high, determined not to break eye contact first. However, the other captain simply smirked and leant in to whisper something in his ear before Hooch scolded her. When she pulled back, Y/N could hardly see James’ expression but she managed to catch a small glimpse.

He looked, well, she didn't know what his expression meant. Angry? Nervous? Annoyed?

This was her cue, “DON’T LET THEM GET TO YOU JAMES!” She shouted so loud that it managed to travel down to him. Sirius’ head whipped back, even looking appreciative at her encouragement.

James managed to hear and his head perked up. His head swivelled towards her, his frown wiped off as his confidence returned. Behind him, Marlene looked up to the stands and Y/N, along with the other girls, shot her a thumbs up.

Madam Hooch continued to give her speech. James looked determined, his head tilting towards Marlene as they nodded to each other in encouragement. Y/N was unfamiliar with the rest of the Gryffindor and Slytherin players, but surprisingly, Regulus Black was standing there. Unlike the other warm brown and golden brooms, Regulus’s broom was black, accented with silver metal. An odd mark was engraved on the widest part of the base.

Due to the distance, it was hard to make out what was engraved or what position he played before Madam Hooch grabbed her silver whistle, which was comically too big.

“Mount your brooms,” she said, the entire crowd hearing. She lifted the whistle to her mouth and gave a loud blast. The game began.

Fifteen brooms flew high into the air. The clouds covering a couple of players passing by.

The announcer’s voice fills the air. “Anddd we’re off! Gryffindor’s newest captain, James Potter, 7, has the Quaffle and— he passes it to Charlie Bell, 2. This is his last year on the team so everyone give him a loud cheer— he sends the Quaffle back to Potter— and he passes it over to Marlene McKinnon, 6, and— no— the Slytherins swiped the Quaffle! Captain Emma Vanity, 21, flies away and she dives— she passes it to Rhys Calwald, also a seventh year— McKinnon comes back and takes it! She’s— a Gryffindor is down! Bell was hit by a Bludger and— he’s back up, perfectly fine— Potter is by the goalpost and blocks off the Slytherins, speeding up. Above, Phoebe Dawson, 1, joined as the Gryffindors newest seeker. She’s high in the clouds, neck and neck with Regulus Black, 8, Slytherin’s seeker and— there’s a clear shot to search for the Snitch. The Quaffle is taken by Bell and— Slytherin’s chaser takes it! Chaser Lucinda Talkalot, 4— their beater bats it away from an incoming Bludger— Talkalot is rounding on Gryffindor’s goalpost— she’s close, Vanity is there— she dives— she shoots— and… and— SLYTHERIN SCORES!”

Gryffindors groan while Slytherin cheers and wave their signs higher. A roar of claps goes around.

Now Lily is screaming, her hands are stretched out, waving her large sign above her head, blocking the unlucky students sitting behind her. “THAT WAS ONLY TEN POINTS! GET THEM MARLS— YES! LOOK AT THAT DIVE!”

Down below, Peter and Sirius are mirroring Lily. "IS THAT ALL YOU GOT POTTER?! COME ON WE KNOW YOU CAN GET EM! YOU'RE DOING AMAZING! FUCKING CRUSH THEM!"

Y/N grabbed her binoculars, bringing them to her eyes. Marlene was high up, open for James who had the Quaffle tucked under his arm. He does not look over to her, but rather looks at Bell before he throws it to her, his eyes still trained on Bell. Marlene catches it and from the trick James pulled, she has an extra few seconds before the Slytherins catch her. Marlene speeds away as a Bludger is directed at her. Luckily, one of Gryffindor’s beaters already flung it away as Charlie came rushing close to Marlene’s side, warding off any Slytherins as best as he could.

The commentator cuts in again. “Gryffindor is back in possession of the Quaffle. McKinnon and Bell are flying closer to the goalpost—Slytherin's keeper is standing tall at their net, Ashworth, 3— they’re speeding towards— look! It’s the Snitch!”

The two seeker’s heads shot up. A low murmur spreads through the crowd as they caught sight of a flash of gold. Only for a second, they saw the little ball, its wings fluttering madly before it disappeared back into the clouds.

Slytherin directs a Bludger towards Phoebes before Gryffindor’s beater comes rushing up to swat it away.

Gryffindor still is under the possession of the Quaffle. Marlene and Charlie have been passing it back and forth while James comes back around. His body is pressed close to his broom. He does a funny hand movement, signalling to the rest of the chasers before they swoop down suddenly. Everyone is confused and Charlie is flying in the opposite direction, some of the Slytherins follow him before Marlene passes the Quaffle at James and shoots.

"— GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"

Another round of cheers echoes through Gryffindor’s side. Lily’s clapping slowed. She wanted to show support for Marlene, her house, but not for James. As the Quaffle is sent back up to the air, James and Marlene high-five each other discreetly before returning to their positions.

The Slytherins rush back towards Gryffindors goalpost; they're zigzagging through the air, violent swishes to avoid chasers from cutting them off again.

"Slytherin's in possession. Vanity is on Talkalot's right— passes it to her— shots— misses! Talkalot gets another rebound—

Y/N's attention is drawn back to the seekers. A beater is rapidly swatting away Bludgers as Phoebe is neck and neck with Regulus. Her eyes are stuck through the binoculars.

All of the sudden, a Bludger collided hard with James' broom, so strongly that Y/N swore a chip of wood was knocked off. His broom vibrates hard but his grip is still secured tightly to prevent bucking off. The Bludger was so close to his face that for a split second everyone thought it might've broken his nose. The crowd was cheering on intently while Sirius and Peter screamed.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?"

"FOUL!" Madam Hooch yelled. Gryffindor gets a free score on Slytherins goalpost. Marlene is the one to score.

"NICE JOB MARLS!" Lily bellows. Her voice is high-pitched and cuts through the air loud enough that Marlene looks over and gives a thumbs up.

By now, Slytherin has scored eleven times while Gryffindor was merely in the lead by ten points. Slytherin was rapidly gaining on them. Vanity and Talkalot were great at their positions.

"Gryffindors in possession! Bell’s got the Quaff— a Bludger is coming towards Potter again—” The iron ball was barrelling towards him, again. A beater shouted, warning him before James zoomed across the field as fast as he could. A beater trailed after him and swatted it away, narrowly avoiding being hit.

James ducked as another Bludger was rocketed in his direction.

"— BLOCKED! YEAH, SCUMBAGS — Sorry McGonagall!— Bell is gaining on the Slytherins and aiming at Ashworth. McKinnon is seconds behind— the seekers spotted the Golden Snitch!"

There was an edge of panic that soared through everyone’s hearts as both of the seekers dived down so fast that the chasers and beaters had to move out of their way. It was neck and neck, both flattened to their broom and the crowd only saw the glimpse of golden sparkles. Both reached out their hands.

It was only then a Bludger hit the back of Phoebe's broom, similar to James, causing her to lunge forward and off her broom.

Both seekers were laid on the ground. Everyone peered at the crash worried about their safety before Regulus lifted his hand, waving it above his head.

"I got the Snitch!" Regulus pants out.

James came rushing down to his teammate's side to make sure they weren't badly injured. He screamed for Madam Hooch.

After careful deliberation, Hooch ultimately decided that Slytherin won, awarding them the extra one hundred and fifty points. Gryffindor lost by thirty points.

"That was an illegal Bludger attack!" Marlene says.

"What the fuck?! That's rubbish!" Sirius screamed. Mary, Lily, Dorcas and Y/N groaned with the rest of the Gryffindors. The Slytherins chanted, waving their banners around and screaming as the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws clapped.

“Bell shoulda been cap, what were they thinking, picking the so-called King of Quidditch!” The Slytherins sang.

James, while still upset at the ruling, was more upset at his team member’s pain. Nobody knew what happened, but James seemed to leave Phoebe's side once he knew she was okay and stormed off in the direction of Vanity. Marlene grabbed a hold of his uniform to pull him back.

“James, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She seethes into his ear, "Don’t start muggle duelling!"

“Are you fucking joking?” He bits back, “I’m not going to hit a woman!”

“Then calm down now.”

Whatever it was, James felt himself cool down considerably as he looked to Marlene. “Right, sorry. Just wanted to talk some sense into her.”

“Dreadful temper you’ve got there Potter.” Vanity spits out. She walks up to him, a pitiful smile on her.

“You need to keep your beaters in check,” he spits. Sparks fly from his nose as he marches back to Phoebe. By now, Madam Pomfrey has her laid back on a stretcher. James helps her, picking up the other end and walking back through the hidden doors. The team shuddered, trailing after them.

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

It was a devastating blow for Gryffindor. Everywhere Y/N looked, angry or disappointed faces would pop up. The team themselves were dejected while the Slytherins have begun planning a party.In the halls, students that made bets disappointedly slapped money it into the palms of students.

Nobody had seen James for hours. He’d left right after the game and all the marauders had disappeared, only reappearing for dinner. Only Sirius and Peter were at the table.

“— We were so close,” said Marlene numbly. “It must have accounted for something, using an illegal move like that.”

“You did amazing, it’s not your fault.” Lily cuts in, patting her on the shoulder.

“Now Potter is going to be ruthless for the next practices.”

A roar of laughter came from the Slytherins, a song chanting from their lips.

“Potter can hardly score a goal, he almost plummeted on the floor! He calls himself the King of Quidditch, well we call him the second option! Bell shoulda been cap, what were they thinking, picking the so-called King of Quidditch!”

“Shut it!” Sirius yelled, “You cheated! Bunch of gits.”

“Knock it off!” Followed Peter.

“Potter can hardly score a goal, he almost plummeted on the floor!"

Marlene cringes, watching the scene play out. Her grip on her fork tightens that for a moment Y/N thought she would have shattered the metal pieces. “They already won, what more do they want? A bunch of ugly toads...”

“Just ignore them,” Dorcas says. Marlene looked back at her, smiling reassuringly but with effort.

“He calls himself the king of Quidditch, well we call him the second option!”

“I don’t even like him,” Lily says dully, “But this… this is just mean.”

“Bell shoulda been cap, what were they thinking, picking the so-called King of Quidditch!”

No wonder James skipped dinner. Y/N turns her head to look at Sirius and Peter, both upset. A thought passes, perhaps it would be good to see how James was doing, but a small seed of doubt settled in her. If his best friends weren’t with him, then it probably would be better to leave him alone. But starving himself shouldn’t be the other option. As the Slytherins continued to sing, with teachers and prefects starting to get up to stop them, Y/N grabbed a nearby empty plate before piling on spaghetti and bread along with slipping a few utensils in her pockets. She excused herself, nodding to Marlene for comfort and slipping her way out effortlessly as teachers swamped the Slytherin table.

The common room was empty aside from James who was huddled up with his invisibility cloak, staring miserably out a window. Only his head was visible, the rest covering his body. It made her feel a bit queasy.

The fireplace crackled with every step she took. There were a few options Y/N could broach this situation,

She could walk around him like there were eggshells,

Or treat him normally.

She sat down beside him, a bit unsure, handing him his plate. His gaze moves to her, a quick smile flashes.

“Thanks.” He says, taking it from her. He ate in silence for a while, Y/N deciding to talk to fill the silence.

“I was thinking we should play exploding snaps-”

“Hey, look, “ he cuts off fast, nodding stiffly. His smile faded and a hard edge crept in his voice, “you don't have to try and cheer me up—”

“Relax, I’m not here to baby you. You’re doing that already.”

A small huff of amusement comes out, “Well then, mind if I play with you?”

“Of course!”

Whenever James won, and quite honestly he wasn’t the best, he’d make a small whooping sound. Even a few times she lost purposely so he would win.

That is until he spoke again, almost inaudible “You know… I care what people think of me- well certain people and I let them down today.”

“James, you didn’t.”

“I did —”

“Nobody is mad at you. If anything they’re mad at Madam Hooch.”

“Still,” he looked down embarrassed. “What are they saying about me down there?”

Her brain short-circuited for a moment; he would have to find out eventually. “They’re singing.”

“Great.” Although he didn’t look bothered, just annoyed. However, he gained a rush of enthusiasm with his next sentence, “Whatever, I’ll show them next year.”

A few games later, James left before the swarm of students came back to the common room. Again, he covered himself with the cloak and disappeared into the hallway. The spring in his step was noticeably lighter.

110 notes · View notes

pines-troz · 3 years

Text

Weekend With The Warners Chapter One - Animaniacs & Pinky and The Brain

Summary: When the CEO tasks Pinky and the Brain with the important task of watching over the Warners for the weekend, Brain is prepared for any antics that the children have in store. What he didn’t take into account was forming a familial bond with the kids.

Word Count: 1,868

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27849962

This is a found family story with a good combination of fluff, humor, and mild angst. Contains Brinky and Non-Binary Wakko

Beginning AN: This is probably the most self-indulgent story I’ve ever written

On a dark and stormy evening, a mysterious figure entered a castle that overlooked a provincial village. Deep inside the gothic estate’s stone walls, the figure snarled as he trudged up the winding stairs, leading to the top floor. He let out a vicious cry as he opened the large wooden doors to the laboratory.

Dr. Brainenstein, the lord of the castle, stood behind his chemistry set, the glass beakers obscuring his face. Upon hearing the door open, he dropped his studies and gazed upon the visitor with an eager smile.

“Ah, Pigor, you’ve returned!” Dr. Brainenstein greeted his assistant with a confident grin. The scientist emerged from his chemistry set to reveal himself. He wore a fancy black coat, a satin purple shirt underneath a white collared shirt, and black pants.

The monstrous shadow revealed to be a lanky and chipper mouse wearing a brown hood and a muted yellow tunic. “‘Ello, Dr. Brainenstein!” Pigor replied merrily, waving to his boss. The mouse carried a large brown sack with something moving about.

Dr. Brainenstein slid down the table leg and eagerly approached his assistant. “How was the graveyard scavenging?” He inquired menacingly, whilst rubbing his hands.

Pigor strained as he carried the large sack with his findings. “Oh, brilliant!” He cheerily answered. “You know, you would be surprised what the dead leave lying around.”

“By the way, I’ve probably been in here a thousand times, but I’m always amazed at how beautiful your castle is!” Pigor complimented.

“Thank you, Pigor.” Dr. Brainenstein acknowledged. “I employed only the top masons. Those schooled in the latest techniques of wall-stone craft.”

The scientist curtly shoved his assistant off to the side. “Now, let’s see what you brought me!”

Dr. Brainenstein eagerly opened the sack, expecting a horde of body parts for his latest scientific experiment, but was surprised to see the Warner children. Yakko, Wakko, and Dot huddled together and smiled at the mouse.

“Hi!” They chorused, but Wakko belched loudly, blowing the scientist’s fur and jacket backwards like a strong gust of wind.

“Sorry.” Wakko apologized, their cheeks turning a bright shade of pink.

At that moment, Pinky and The Brain broke character and started laughing. The Warners soon joined in, and the five rode out their bout of laughter together.

“Oh, classic Wakko.” Brain sighed as he wiped a tear from his eye.

Pinky went by Brain’s side and wrapped his arm around the smaller mouse’s shoulder and turned towards the camera. “You better add this to the blooper reels! Zort!”

But the primal yell from the director brought the joyous moment to a halt. The five actors immediately huddled together as they were about to face the wrath of the man in the director’s chair.

“What is this?” The director irately shouted.

“Hey, Wellesley! Hope you don’t mind the surprise cameo!” Yakko replied with a playful smile to humor the irascible filmmaker.

“Yeah, we just wanted to give our favorite mice a surprise visit.” Dot explained as she gently patted their heads. Pinky contentedly closed his eyes and began tapping his foot a mile a minute upon receiving the girl’s affection. Brain, too, was endeared by the Warner sister’s pats and smiled at her.

“So I ate all the potatoes and we hopped into this sack!” Wakko concluded, happily stimming by flapping their hands around.

“But the script says for Pigor to carry a large sack of potatoes and have Dr. Brainenstein to open up the sack and be squished by a pile of potatoes!” Wellesley angrily explained. “Now can someone get those pesky kids out of here and get back to the scene!”

But before any of the crew members could intercede, Brain stepped forward, taking a defiant stand against the director. “Forgive me if what I’m about to say comes off as a crushing blow to your fragile ego, but I wholeheartedly disagree with your creative vision.” Brain argued. “I say we should keep the Warners in the short.”

The intelligent mouse quickly retrieved the script from his coat pocket. “And one other minor criticism I have with the script is that I find the ‘wall-stone-craft’ pun to be awfully misleading.” Brain added with a stern frown. “While Mary Wollstonecraft was an illustrious writer, she did not pen the classic gothic novel Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus. Her daughter, Mary Shelley, wrote the book that this segment is parodying.”

“Hey, the studio isn’t paying you to be a walking history book.” The director fired back. “And besides, potatoes are very funny.”

“Perhaps in Idaho, but having a cameo appearance from the Warners would be keeping in the comedic spirit of Animaniacs in regards to rapid-fire visual gags.” Brain argued. “The kids are staying in the short, and that’s final!”

Unbeknownst to The Brain, the Warners smiled as they watched their fellow co-worker stand up for them and make a compelling case for their inclusion.

Pinky then rushed over to Brain’s side and faced the director. “Can the Warners stay in the segment? Pretty please, Mr. Director?” Pinky pleaded, using his best puppy dog eyes and simpering pout.

Wellesley rubbed his forehead and gave in. “Alright, we’ll use the Warners, but the ‘wall-stone-craft’ pun stays. Now can we get back to filming please!”

Brain smugly smiled, satisfied with the compromise. He then turned to face his dearest co-star. “Well Pinky, it appears that my excellent debate skills and your irresistible cuteness have saved comedy yet again.” Brain complimented, ruffling the taller mouse’s head. Pinky relished the small and gentle display of affection from Brain.

“Aww, I thought I was the cute one!” Wakko sadly interjected. Dot merely rolled her eyes at her sibling’s protest.

“Places people!” The director yelled.

“Come on, sibs.” Yakko said as he stood up. His younger sibling followed suit and the three pulled up the potato sack and hopped their way towards the door entrance. Pinky followed the Warners and Brain immediately returned to his place behind the laboratory equipment.

- - - - -

Filming the rest of the segment went smoothly for the mice. Brain was able to ad-lib his rant after seeing the Warners in the sack, comparing their cameo to ‘layman’s detritus’. The mice were able to strike up a friendly rapport with the actress who played Drusilla in between takes. They listened to her fascinating background starting out as an extra on daytime soaps before making the move to horror movies and acting with heavy special effects make-up. Brain also managed to work in some improvisation near the final scene where he almost smooched his assistant in an earnest attempt to comfort him, knowing that the viewers would have a field day with that moment.

Once they wrapped up filming the segment, Pinky and The Brain collected their paychecks and made their way through the Warner movie lot, holding hands as they strolled through the studio together. After years of wrestling with his repressed emotions and attending many therapy sessions, Brain finally professed his love to Pinky, and Pinky happily reciprocated his romantic feelings to Brain. The two started their courtship four months before they received the news that they would be returning to Animaniacs for the reboot.

Brain ignored the curious stares from the other workers on the studio lot, instead focusing his attention on his hand, which was interlaced with Pinky’s. This was all so new to him. He was trying his best to navigate the challenging terrains of a serious romantic relationship. Thankfully, Pinky was ever so gentle and understanding with him. The taller mouse possessed strong emotional intelligence and he was able to help Brain let his guard down and help him come to terms with his own emotions. The smaller mouse was still slowly getting used to public displays of affection from Pinky.

Pinky recognized Brain’s nervousness and started to make small-talk to keep his mind occupied. “Oh, that ‘Bride of Pinky’ segment was so much fun, Brain!” The buck-toothed mouse proclaimed.

“Indeed it was” Brain politely replied with a small smile.

“And your improv was on point!” Pinky praised. “Dr. Brainenstein trying to kiss Pigor after the loss of his monster wife was brilliant!”

“Well, your performance was believable as always, Pinky.” Brain kindly complimented.

“Yeah, I’m glad those last couple segments were more on the fun and heartwarming side.” Pinky added.

Brain nodded his head. He was still bitter at the writers who penned that dreaded ‘Mousechurian Candidate’ script for a number of reasons. The material had angered him, but deeply disturbed Pinky to the point that he had been hiding himself in his trailer after each scene. Brain and Julia did their best to reassure their poor co-worker that they were only acting. But once they had received the scripts for ‘The Babysitter’s Flub’ and ‘Bride of Pinky’, Brain was relieved that the following segments focused on the comedic and affectionate relationship the two leads shared. This renewed Brain’s hope that the reboot would manage to retain the magic of the original series.

Meanwhile, the Warners bounced around the movie lot, looking for a way to let out their energy. Yakko spotted Pinky and The Brain walking together. He stopped Wakko and Dot and gestured over to their co-stars. The three made one long leap towards the mice.

“Hey, fellas!” Yakko greeted. “Listen, we just wanna thank you two for vouching for us earlier.”

“We really appreciate you two standing up for us.” Wakko added.

“Oh, your welcome.” Brain said. “It’s awfully rare that we cross paths in the show, but Pinky and I welcome your enthusiastic presence.”

“Personally, I’ve always been an admirer of your sophisticated wit and earnest comedic chemistry.” Dot complimented.

Pinky looked bashfully at Dot. “Zort! Oh you’re far too kind!”

“Oh, I have something important to tell you two.” Wakko announced. “So I told my siblings this a while back, and I want you to know that I’m Non-Binary!” The middle child turned their hat around to reveal the pin of the Non-Binary flag on the front of their cap. “Egad, you have zero binaries? Why that’s incredible!” Pinky exclaimed as he eagerly shook Wakko’s hand.

“That’s wonderful, Wakko.” Brain congratulated. “And could you kindly inform us of your pronouns?”

“I currently use he/they pronouns.” Wakko answered.

“Well, Pinky and I are very happy for you.” Brain kindly told the middle child.

“Aw, thanks!” Wakko said with a sincere smile. Yakko playfully ruffled his sibling’s head, causing Wakko to give their older brother a soft shove.

“Well, as much as I would love to converse with you further, Pinky and I need to go to the bank to deposit our checks, and return to the lab to discuss our plans for world domination.” Brain explained, tugging his taller partner along. “See you soon, children!”

“Bye-bye kiddies!” Pinky addressed the kids with a friendly wave.

“Bye!” The Warners chorused before bouncing about on their merry way back to the water tower.

Unbeknownst to the mice and the Warners, they were being watched by Warner Brothers CEO, Nora Rita Norita, from the top floor of the WB office building. The businesswoman looked through the blinds and noticed the great rapport between the five actors.

She flashed a menacing smile before releasing her grip from the blinds.

Additional AN: So this chapter is mostly set up, establishing the friendly rapport between the Warners and the mice.

Like my previous story, Those We Hold Dear, Pinky and the Brain work as actors and that most of the segments were filmed on the Warner movie lot (the period piece ones like How to Brain Your Dragon, Pinko and the Brain, Bride of Pinky, 1001 Narfs, and I added Mousechurian Candidate because of how poorly executed it was and the writers really did those characters dirty. And I was inspired by a post by @themurphyzone about episode 8 while referencing that episode in the story. While other segments like Ex-Mousina and Roadent Trip will be referenced later on in the story, occurred in-universe.

And I chose to start the story with the characters filming Bride of Pinky because I loved that little cameo from the Warners and thought it would be fun to play around with the idea of what went on behind the scenes. Also, I decided to expand on that director who kept yelling when something went wrong while filming, and decided to name him Wellesley after the one of the producers of the reboot, Wellesley Wild.

I also made the self-indulgent inclusion that Brain finally attended therapy because I love that grumpy little mouse and I wanted to at least have some of his emotional issues straightened out.

As of now, this multi-chapter story is mostly complete, and I just need to add in some details in certain scenes, so I will do my best to post new chapters frequently.

Thanks for reading!

#animaniacs #pinky and the brain #brain #pinky #yakko warner #wakko warner #dot warner #brinky #a!spoilers

120 notes · View notes

lifeofkaze · 3 years

Text

An Art of Balance #37 (Bonus)

Orion Amari x MC

A/N: First bonus chapter! Quite some people asked me when Everett might get what he deserves. Well, here you go (finally)! Judith Harris belongs to @judediangelo75 , David Willows to @that-scouse-wizard and Katriona KC Cassiopeia – as always – to my wonderful wifey @kc-needs-coffee

Warning: The smallest mention of blood

Word Count: ~ 2.700

_________________________________

Bonus - Chapter 37: Doppelbeater Defense

Despite of the biting wind in her face as she whizzed through the air, Lizzie could feel a drop of sweat making its way down beneath her shoulder blades and along her spine. Ignoring the soft tickle, she gripped the Quaffle tighter and held it to her body as she ducked beneath a Bludger send in her direction by Erika Rath and prepared to make her move.

Whipping her broomstick sideways at the last possible moment, she used the momentum to let go of the Quaffle and send it through the left one of the other team’s hoops. The Keeper had no chance to block her throw and she broke into a grin as the goalposts lit up for a moment, signalling her success to the crowd.

“Jameson scores for her team in an almost artistic manner!” Murphy reaffirmed only moments later. “Her choice of hoop came 68.5 % unexpected and left the Keeper with no chance to deflect the Quaffle in time.”

Her grin widened as she flew along the stands and let the whooping of the fans spur her on. Considering that they were only playing a friendly, the stands were packed. The Quidditch season was over and Hufflepuff the reigning Quidditch champion; to let out some of the penned up energy, Orion and Rath had decided to organise a mixed match for the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw teams. With the exams being almost over, a lot of their peers had found their way onto the scalding hot pitch today, just happy to escape the dusky shadows of the castle for a few hours.

In full flight, she held onto the handle of her broom before coming into a standing position as she surfed past her friends, raising her fist into the air. Lizzie had pretty much abandoned broom surfing for a long time, but had picked it up again this year; ever since she and Orion had started dating officially three weeks earlier, it had slowly but surely developed into her favourite way to celebrate a scored goal.

Sitting down, Lizzie made her way back into the middle of the pitch again. With a smile just as bright as her own, Orion came up beside her, visibly proud of both her goal and her skilled display of his favourite flying technique; he had taught it to her after all. He clapped his gloved hand on her shoulder and gave her the smallest wink. When the Quaffle re-entered the game, he smirked, turned around and was gone chasing after it.

Completely lost in thought, Lizzie stared after him. The place on her shoulder where his hand had rested only moments earlier, was still tingling and she felt her heart beat faster. She watched as he relieved Skye of the Quaffle with a laugh and a graceful swipe of his hand. Even though it had been some time since they had gotten together now, the thought that he was actually her boyfriend still felt surreal to her.

She was violently broken out of her dazed state when she saw a Bludger racing towards her at a ridiculous speed. It was aimed straight for her head and she only managed to duck out of it’s way at the last moment. She could feel the air move as it whizzed past her, her heart beating in her ears, this time from pure adrenaline. She let out a shaky breath; that had been a close one.

Straightening up again, she whipped her broomstick around and flew over to Everett, who had beat the iron sphere her way. He smirked at her flustered state as she came to a halt directly in front of him.

“Are you mad or what?” Lizzie snapped at him. “This is supposed to be a friendly! We don’t go for the head in a friendly!”

Unimpressed, Everett looked her up and down haughtily. “Shut it, Jameson, it’s your problem if your distracted.”

His sneer turned into a derogatory smirk as he continued, “You’d better focus, sunshine; we wouldn’t want that pretty face of yours smashed, would we? I guess, the captain would like you considerably less then. After all, there’s not much more to you than a halfway decent look.”

Her temper flaring for a moment, Lizzie had the strong urge to just push Everett of his broom and be done with it. Instead, she took a deep breath, grit her teeth and left him behind. Arguing with the sixth-year was no use; she knew it was his hurt pride speaking. He had been shooting snide remarks at her ever since she and Orion had become a couple. Letting him get under her skin was exactly what he wanted.

Even though she tried to ignore his comments, Everett was far from done with her. Every time she came close to him over the course of the match, he was shouting a new profanity at her, every new one worse than the last. After a while, despite her best efforts, his verbal attacks were distracting her so much she couldn’t concentrate on playing anymore.

Her passes were starting to get unprecise, her manoeuvres were failing more often than not. When she tried to bring the Quaffle past the opposing Keeper, her throw got blocked with ease. Annoyed with herself, Lizzie gave vent to her frustration with a scream and a hit against the handle of her Comet.

Her increasing anger didn’t go unnoticed by Orion. Hovering beside her, he was trying to centre her again with his calm, reassuring voice until Lizzie felt her rage melt away at the sight of his smile. Taking a deep breath, she smiled at him thankfully and returned into action by his side.

But Orion hadn’t been the only one to notice Everett’s constant slurs. Judith and Katriona, who was one of the Ravenclaws playing on Lizzie’s team, had already shared more than one eyeroll ever since Everett had started attacking their friend. All of them were sick and tired of his rudeness anyway, but his behaviour today was just downright disgusting.

When the Hufflepuff Beater made the mistake of sending a Bludger to the spot where both of them were hovering in the air, KC and Judith only needed to share a look between them to know what to do.

Anticipating the rotating Bludger with their bats raised and ready, they hit the Bludger both at the same time. It changed its course back to its sender with incredible speed, leaving Everett no time to dodge it. With an audible, ugly sounding crack it collided with his nose, blood spurting out of his nostrils as he dropped his bat and cried out in pain.

Murphy winced into his megaphone as the stands around him erupted into cheers. “Ouch, that must have hurt, ladies and gentlemen! Someone had better get Madam Pomfrey to take a look at this, there’s a 98.6 % chance of a really nasty bruise.”

The laughter in Murphy’s clear voice was very badly hidden and he had to clear his throat before he could continue. “But all jokes aside, the only thing more fabulous than this perfect display of one of the most challenging Beater manoeuvres known to any skilled Quidditch strategist is the sheer perfection of the two players conducting it! With Harris’s unmatched strength and Cassiopeia’s unrivalled technique, the Tigress and Ravenclaw’s rising star effectively knock Everett out of the game, giving their team a considerable advantage.”

It was true; Everett had clapped his hands in front of his face and was in no state to stay on his broomstick much longer, let alone continue playing. His eyes shot daggers at them through his fingers, Judith glaring back and KC only shrugging it off nonchalantly; he’d had it coming after all.

Luckily for all of them, the Snitch had been caught pretty quickly after KC and Judith had broken Everett’s nose, leaving no room for more injuries, accidental or no.

Being a member of his original team, Orion had insisted on escorting Everett to the Hospital Wing, however impossible he might have acted. Madam Pomfrey had been busy when they had arrived, so her assistant had taken care of him. Her healing spells were usually impeccable, but today she claimed she had been distracted by a nasty headache. Lizzie suspected very much she hadn’t been distracted at all. They had left a cursing and ranting Everett to her further care and had made their way to the Great Hall.

With one more exam still ahead of them, Murphy and Orion had separated from the rest of the team to go over their notes together, while Judith, KC and Lizzie had found seats at the Hufflepuff table.

They were chatting about the match, the Charms exam taking place in two days’ time and the prospect of new players come next season. While KC was enjoying the prospect of fresh blood, both Lizzie and Judith were sighing at the idea of having to spend another year with Everett on their team.

“You know, David Willows could step up,” Judith suggested between two bites of her dinner. “He’d fit the team so much better than that airhead.”

Lizzie tilted her head. “I thought he was stuck in detention forever.”

“Only for the whole year, next year he should be free again,” Judith shrugged, “if he doesn’t do any more stupid stunts, that is.”

“Any more stupid stunts and get caught, you mean,” KC added with a smirk.

Judith laughed. “Naturally.”

Her golden eyes wandered from her friends’ faces to something in Lizzie’s back and one of her eyebrows arched in dismay. “Speaking of the devil…”

Lizzie turned around to see Everett stomping their way. His face was looking truly dreadful; his nose was hidden under a thick bandage and the skin around it red and bruised. The proportions of his usually not unattractive face were oddly contorted by the swelling. What was visible of the rest of his face was screaming murder as he approached them.

He drew himself up to his full height as he stared down at the three girls. He would have looked threatening had his broken nose not made quiet wheezing noises every time he breathed.

“Look what you did to my face,” he snarled at them through gritted teeth, his fists shaking with rage. “This is all your fault! That incompetent amateur of a healer said my nose might not go back to the way it was before! You’ll answer for this!”

Lizzie shifted uncomfortably in her seat under his glare. She was honestly sick of him and his attitude and wished he would just leave them in peace; she’d had her share of insults for the day and was too tired to get into a fight.

Judith and KC, on the other hand, didn’t seem to share her notion. Judith looked him up and down, her muscular arms crossed in front of her chest, while KC’s eyes never left him. She took a deliberately slow sip of her coffee.

“I don’t see your problem,” she answered coolly after setting her mug back down. “How did you put it? It’s your fault if you’re distracted.”

She turned her attention to her fingernails, as if the sheer presence of the seething Hufflepuff Beater was boring her out of her mind.

“Look at it that way: a crooked nose might suit you after all,” she continued. “I heard it gives people more character; Godric knows you’d need that.”

Despite herself, Lizzie had to snort into her cup of pumpkin juice at KC’s words. This turned out to be a mistake, however, when Everett turned all his attention on her.

He stepped forward, right into Lizzie’s personal space. He was effectively towering over her with no chance for her to get away as he bend down to hiss into her face.

“I have no idea what’s so funny about that, Jameson. Only because you’re shagging the captain doesn’t mean you’re special in any way. Harming your teammate intentionally is against the rules, I’ll have you and Harris kicked off the team. You’ll regret this!”

He abruptly straightened himself up and began striding away, head held high, not even sparing them another glance. If he had, he had probably seen KC turning and sneakily sticking her foot out. He caught on it and swayed for a moment before he tipped over and landed face down onto the floor with a resounding bang. He screamed and Lizzie was sure to hear the crunch deformed bones for a second time that day.

Everett turned around, staring up at them with pain and hate edged onto his face. He opened his mouth to say something but there was nothing coming out of it but a loud, high pitched whine.

Not impressed in the slightest, KC rose from her seat and set a foot on Everett’s chest to prevent him from getting up. Bending down, her long, strawberry blonde curls almost grazing his face, she locked eyes with him. There was a fury burning in her blue eyes that made him go cold on the inside.

“You’re right, harming your teammates is against the rules – good thing you aren’t one of mine,” she hissed at him.

She slightly increased the pressure of her foot on his chest. “So, if I hear one more word about our lovely Lizzie or my fantastic friend Orion coming from your filthy mouth ever again, be sure to know that the next Bludger will be aimed lower – a lot lower.”

A confident smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Consider this a warning; according to Murphy I have a pretty good accuracy of 97.8 %.”

Everett made a strangled sound as KC stepped over him, applying her full weight onto his body for a moment. Judith followed her, driving the point home by tapping her Beater’s bat on his chest as she walked by with a hard stare.

KC turned her head and looked down at him; she might as well have looked at a cockroach.

“On a sidenote,” she added, suddenly sounding very sweet, “I heard the N.E.W.T.s are pretty tough to prepare for. Maybe you might want to reconsider returning to the Hufflepuff team next year. Don’t you worry about your position, we know just the replacement for you.”

“You’re bright spirit will be missed, but I think we’ll get over it,” Judith agreed with a satisfied smirk.

Everett’s gaze flicked from one to the other; if Lizzie didn’t know any better, she’d say he was actually scared of her friends.

When KC and Judith turned around to walk away, he muttered a curse under his breath, prompting the redheaded Ravenclaw to turn around again.

“What was that?”

All defiance lost, Everett cowered in on himself. “Nothing.”

“Good.”

KC’s eyes rose to Lizzie, who was still sitting at the table, staring at the scene unfolding in front of her. “Liz, are you coming?”

Lizzie snapped out of it, got up and didn’t miss out on stepping over Everett herself, a big grin on her face. Judith and KC both flanked her, linking arms with each other as they marched her out of the Great Hall.

“Godric, did you see his face?” Lizzie chuckled as soon as they were out of earshot. “He’s going to have nightmares, I bet.”

Turned more serious again, she glanced at KC. “But was that really necessary?”

“It was,” KC answered equally as serious. “He practically begged for this for a long time now.”

“I’d have done anything to not have to put up with him for another year,” Judith agreed wholeheartedly.

Lizzie laughed and pulled her friends closer as the three of them marched across the Entrance Hall in lockstep.

“Thanks girls, I appreciate it. Just do me the favour of reminding me to never ever cross my Beater Babes.”

#hphm #hogwats mystery #quidditch #lizzie jameson #katriona cassiopeia #judith harris #he's had it coming #never cross the beater babes #aob #art of balance

15 notes · View notes

quazartranslates · 3 years

Text

Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH129

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 129: The Dream of the Holy Nun (XIX)

On this dark road, the witches' butterfly showed them the way while the demons they passed seemed to be unable to see them, turning a blind eye to their coming and going.

The former site of the Vatican was just ahead, and the witch's butterfly hovered around them: "Let's stop here."

Ning Zhou put Qi Leren down, letting him lean on himself, and took out holy water to have him drink. Although the power of holy water couldn't relieve the witch's poison-medicine, it could alleviate the pain. Qi Leren swallowed a few mouthfuls and the cold holy water made the burning feeling in his stomach better, but it still hurt as if he was on fire.

Ning Zhou helped him dry the water stains on the corners of his mouth. In this very close distance, in this very dark night, Qi Leren actually couldn't see Ning Zhou's appearance, but his eyes seemed to reflect the starlight in the sky. He was like the first person who looked up at the night sky, who fell at the first sight.

"I'm fine," Qi Leren squeezed two words from his throat.

But these two words were hoarse and unconvincing, yet they were extremely firm because the plan was about to be realized.

The demon enchantment they discovered when exploring the former site of the Vatican earlier was still there, and the former site of the Vatican is behind an inaccessible barrier.

At this time they were just outside this barrier, and the witch’s butter was dancing and flapping its wings as it flew inside.

The world hidden behind the enchantment seemed to be rippling, and in the deep black, it seems that someone was coming towards them…

Nearby, in the dark, she was slightly glowing, golden.

As she got closer and closer, her appearance gradually became clear. She was a seven or eight year old girl with beautiful golden curls and white roses on her clothes. She walked lightly down the steps to them and Qi Leren could see her face through the layer of the demon enchantment.

She was so much like... No, she was exactly like Maria as a child.

But her blue eyes were not as gentle as Maria's. Even as they were pulled by a playful smile, they were as gloomy as a nightmare.

"This is the face... Well, it's interesting and incredible." The Witch of Nightmares behind the demon enchantment cocked her head and stared at Ning Zhou innocently and maliciously. "It's so interesting that that woman's child came back here and brought me what I wanted."

Ning Zhou’s hand went to his knife and the cold blade was pointed at the Witch of Nightmares.

"Ah, don't be angry, this kid still needs my antidote. Come and exchange it under the guidance of the contract." The Witch of Nightmare's tone was full of greed and excitement.

Qi Leren took out the field memento and Maria's brooch was slightly hot. At this moment, he felt uneasy, even though Su He had promised repeatedly... But he was used to the fact that there would always be accidents at the critical moment, so he was always uneasy.

The contract paper was suspended between the two people, the brooch floated up, and the two antidotes in the witch's hand also floated up. Under the power of the contract, they drifted toward each other, passed through the demon enchantment safely, and landed in each other's hands.

The Witch of Nightmare’s gave a pleasant laugh: "This is it, this is it! Hahaha, I got it, My Lord, I got it!"

She ran to the depths of the Vatican as if the wish she had hoped for for many years had been fulfilled and she’d gone mad with it. She held the field memento and made a pilgrimage to the front of the temple protected by the enchantment of the Holy Nun.

The Witch of Nightmare’s surge of emotion had her look up at the broken temple in the distance, this was the place where she hadn't set foot for more than 20 years, protected by the faith of the Holy Nun. Even in the eight years after her death, she still stubbornly blocked the Devil's remnants.

But as long as one had her field memento…

"That damned, damned Maria, she lied to you, she is unforgivable!" The Witch of Nightmares raised Maria's field memento before the holy enchantment, and she expressed her longing for nothingness. "My Lord, am I like her now? Only I..."

At the moment when the field memento touched the enchantment, the secret technique attached to the memento was triggered and horrible black flames suddenly burned from the Witch of Nightmare’s hand. She let go in astonishment but it was too late. The black flames that devoured everything quickly swept over her body, and the fire from hell completely engulfed her.

Before she could even let out a scream, she was burned to ashes by the absolute power and the frantic demon energy seeped into the ground, causing waves of tremors in the earth.

The vicious game of the Witch of Nightmares had ended. The dawn was coming and the nocturnal demons controlled by the witch’s power slowly walked towards home. Now the cycle of terror would be ended forever.

Outside the former site of the Vatican, the ground was still shaking. Qi Leren had already drunk an antidote and the pain had fully disappeared from his body, leaving only a sticky cold sweat. When pain is over, in order to protect themselves, people's memory quickly forgets the physical torture and only feels unreal when recalling the pain.

"I'm fine," Qi Leren said, standing up straight and wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. "We need to send the other antidote to Dr. Lu quickly."

Ning Zhou responded lightly, looking at the disappearing demon barrier. Behind the barrier was a deep darkness. There was something calling him.

"If there’s nothing wrong with Su He's plan, the Witch of Nightmares should be dead and this enchantment is gone." Qi Leren couldn't feel the demon energy that had come from depths of the Vatican a few seconds ago. Naturally he didn't know the Witch of Nightmare’s situation, and he was a little worried. At this time, the whole hill where the Vatican was located was slightly shaking, as if there was a terrorist operation raging inside, which gave an ominous feeling.

"She’s dead."

"After that, there will be no more disasters."

"Hmm."

"But the task reminder still hasn't appeared. It seems that according to the goal, the Dream of the Holy Nun must be ended... The memento representing destruction is inside, right?" Qi Leren asked again.

NingZhou nodded his head.

Qi Leren instinctively felt that Ning Zhou was in a bad mood and he was a bit nervous, so many words choking on his lips that he couldn't open his mouth. He wanted to comfort Ning Zhou, but he didn't know where to start. He wanted to encourage Ning Zhou, but he felt that his words paled.

But at least at the moment, he was sure that Ning Zhou was different. For him, he had exceeded the limit of what could be called a friend, but he couldn’t give him a sensible and rational position.

He couldn't say it, couldn't say anything, even if it exposed it only a little bit, it was blasphemous to Ning Zhou's faith.

"I... I'll give the antidote to Dr. Lu," Qi Leren flinched timidly. He took a step back and was ready to leave, but just after two steps, he turned back regretfully. "Wait for me and let’s go into the Vatican together when I get back."

No, that wasn’t it. That wasn’t what he meant.

"Or... would you like to come with me?" Qi Leren looked at Ningzhou hopefully and summoned up the courage to ask.

Ning Zhou, standing in the dark, was illuminated by the faint light of the stars, andhis figure seemed to melt in the dark.

He waited for a long time but didn’t receive an answer. Qi Leren's unreasonable nose was sour, and he didn't want to turn around or leave. Even if he knew it was only for a short time, they would meet again soon, it was just for a while. It would be fine in just a little while.

Qi Leren forced a smile and shouted: "Then you stay here, I'll be right back. You have to wait for me! You must wait for me! "

Finished saying that, he ran towards the road they’d come from.

The earth still trembled and mourned and the cold night wind blew on his face, drying the sweat. His heart beat faster and faster with his footsteps. There were no human beings or demons in the empty streets, only his footsteps passing through the silent night with his memories.

As he ran, he thought back. He recalled his hugs, his kisses, and the burning temperature of his skin.

What made him think he was indifferent?

The destination was getting closer and closer. It was a long way to come, but it was so short when he was going back. The night watchman has left. Qi Leren stopped, panting, and handed the antidote to Su He standing in the middle of the road: "The Witch of Nightmares is dead. This is the antidote. Give it to Dr. Lu."

Su He didn't hurry to take it. He asked with gentle surprise, "Why are you crying?"

Qi Leren wiped his face blankly, and the faint but bright starlight reflected in the water marks between his fingers.

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

#Welcome to the Nightmare Game #欢迎来到噩梦游戏 #danmei

31 notes · View notes

limitlessgojo · 3 years

Text

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 6)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Special Grade

Next Chapter: Bird of Flame

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty <3

We are finally past the introductions and getting into the bulk of the story🥰💕 excited for this to unravel.

Chapter 6: Speed of Sound

You had a physical and cursed energy examination along with the second years the next day. Much like when you had your height and weight measured at the clinic. But this time, it was your power, speed, stamina, defense level, and flexibility with and without your cursed technique that they were measuring.

“Ugh, it’s so windy out today.” Mai complained. The sun was really bright as the four of you first years stood there.

“Y/n.” All of you turned to look at the source of the voice. You smiled brightly upon hearing him. “It has been a while.”

“Noritoshi senpaii~” you skipped your way towards him with a huge smile on your face. “How have you been?”

Noritoshi was always busy, with clan affairs, missions (now that he got recommended for grade 1 and is enroute to a semi-grade 1) and studies that you only had a short time to say hi whenever you passed by the other in the hallways. But he always secretly looked forward to seeing you.

He nodded his greeting to the other first years before turning to smile down at you as you came up to him. “Not too bad. Hope you’ve adjusted well to campus life?” he murmured, eyes softening.

“I’m okay, don't worry about me. Shared class today, this is my first time. I wonder how it will go?” You excitedly said.

“The usual, you might find it boring. Ah, and I’ve heard that you were given the title Special Grade. Congratulations.” He said.

“Is that something to be celebrated?” you asked while tilting your head to the side. “Thank you though.”

He mimicked you, tilting his head in the same direction and leaning forward so that your eyes were both still in line with each other’s, “It’s proof that you’re strong and that’s also a good thing.”

You hummed in thought. “I don’t really care about rankings to be honest. I just need to be strong enough to protect the ones I love.”

Noritoshi’s eyes slightly widened at that. He was about to speak when he was rudely interrupted.

“TSUCHI CHAN! You owe me a fight.” Todo senpai boomed with Momo sighing tiredly beside him. You jumped about 4 feet into the air at the sound and Noritoshi protectively held a hand in front of you again. “That’s enough Todo. It’s still early in the morning.”

“A fight, or else I will reveal who your ideal type is to everyone here.” He grinned.

Oh no he didn’t. The winds picked up around you as your cursed energy flared dangerously. Everyone except Noritoshi took a step back from you.

You looked up at him with the coldest eyes you have, “You promised you wouldn’t senpai. But I am not backing down from a fight. Don’t cry too badly when I bury you 6 feet underground.”

“There it is! Her dark side.” Miwa cried out. “You’re gonna die senpai.” But Todou just laughed. “I knew you were interesting the moment we met Tsuchi chan. It’s settled. A fight later after class.”

“Todo’s gonna die later. I look forward to seeing it.” Mai yawned nonchalantly as Mechamaru just nodded. Momo just laughed as she settled in beside Mai.

Soon Utahime called you all to attention and you went on with the activities. You were competing with Todo for almost every measurement (with the use of cursed energy of course. You were not so strong without it).

You just laughed at yourself as you found out you had the weakest physical punching power among the first years. Yep, you rely too much on your cursed energy to back you up.

You had the highest score though when you used your cursed energy. You warped the space around your hand in a spiral motion, the wind picking up around your fist, before you propelled yourself to punch the target. BAANG! It was pushed a number of meters back further than Todo’s target.

Todo just clapped. “Well done.” And the entire time, Noritoshi was closely monitoring you, staying by your side and asking questions about your technique.

At that, you tugged on his sleeve and he smiled and bent down for you. You told him quietly that you would tell him more about it later when you’re alone. His eyebrows raised, but his smile widened, “Thank you for that. I don’t mind telling you about mine too.”

The others were just silently watching you both out of the corner of their eyes.

“Mai chan, wanna bet as to when those two will get together?” Momo whispered. Everyone else except the two of you heard her.

“Depends on what you wanna bet on. But I’m willing to bet they’ll get together in the next maybe 4 months or so.” she smirked.

“3 months” Miwa piped up quietly.

“Maybe 2 months lol.” Mechamaru said.

“No. They might take… a few weeks. 3?” Todo said seriously.

Utahime cleared her throat out loud gathering all of your attention. “Last activity. Running laps. This track field is 400 meters long as you all know. Finish 1 lap. First without then with your cursed technique. Nishimiya and Tsuchimikado flying is permitted.”

You perked up at that and clapped your hands excitedly. Then stopped and thought about it remembering your father’s words:

“ ‘You don’t have to max out your abilities. We keep our clan’s abilities as much of a secret as possible to prevent any information leakage that may be used against us. Remember to use your technique wisely. You’re the strongest in our clan, sweetheart.’ You nodded, ‘Okay papa.’ ”

So God speed mode of a Mach 4 is out of the picture. Mach speed 3… maybe out. ‘No I can limit it to just under the speed of sound.’ you thought determinedly.

You zoned out the next hour until it was time to run with your cursed technique. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.” Noritoshi put a hand on your back to support you.

You quickly shook your head “I’m fine, no worries.” He didn’t look like he believed you but let you go ahead.

“Tsuchimikado. It says here on your report that you can move at mach speeds.” Utahime spoke. FUCK. Oh well. You turned to her with the stiffest smile on your face as she realized you didn’t want the information disclosed.

You took your starting position, still determined to keep it under half the speed of sound. “Ready… go!” You whipped around the entire trackfield in just under 3 seconds.

“Tsuchimikado. 2.4 seconds.” You nodded and jogged back beside Miwa who gave you a high five. “That was sooo cool, you need to let me fly with you next time.” She excitedly said.

You laughed. “I’m not the best at holding people with me when I move at high speeds. But slow flying is fine.”

“Why don’t you go faster?” Todo asked. Everyone quieted down as you turned to him. “I have a feeling you've been limiting your output. You’ve obviously been holding back this entire time, are you not taking it seriously? We are here to challenge ourselves, there is no need to hold back.”

Your eye and finger twitched. “That’s not it.” This man was amazing at pushing your buttons. But you sighed as there was no reason to hide it anymore. “Utahime sensei can I-”

“Go ahead. When you’re ready.”

You took your starting position again. You could push Mach 5 if you wanted to, though just above Mach 1 should be enough.

But you can feel Todo just silently egging you on from the sidelines. And it honestly worked. “Start!”

There was a loud BANG! You were back in the starting line in less than a second. The only proof of your movement was the smoke and dust rising above the tracks.

“I am so sorry, but I didn’t catch that. I physically can’t. That was less than a second. Your speed please?” Utahime called out. “Mach 2.”

You stepped right up to Todo with a challenging glint. “Prepare yourself for later.” He just huffed out a proud smile, then you stood aside with Miwa and Noritoshi.

“Was that, just now a sonic boom?” asked Noritoshi. “No it was my ringtone.” you deadpanned. The others choked a laugh out at that.

He turned to you with a pout, but you just bumped his hip with yours and laughed “It’s called sarcasm Noritoshi senpai~” He quietly chuckled along, which he was surprised at how easy it was to do so whenever he was with you.

You all finished up. Momo was also pretty fast, going at 10 seconds around the track. Noritoshi senpai blew you out of the water to be honest. His record was 35 seconds on foot. How. That was over the world record for men’s running.

You noticed a red marking forming over his eye and remembered seeing it for a bit when it came to the strength measurement test earlier. He was just a bit behind you, Mechamaru and Todo in terms of power.

And Mechamaru and Todo were largely… disproportionate to him, being way bigger and bulkier. But he could somehow manage.

“Are any of you going to spar after this? If so I will be supervising.” Utahime sensei called.

“We will.” Todo senpai motioned between the two of you. Noritoshi surprisingly spoke up too, “I also wanna have a go against y/n if that’s fine with you.” He turned to you with a concerned look. You just smiled, “Of course it’s fine Noritoshi senpai!”

“Okay, try not to break anything, limit the damage here on campus please. I will be calling a close if it gets too bad.” Utahime warned.

“There's no need for that.” You smiled to yourself.

Author's Rambles: Mach Speed (AKA Supersonic speed) is described as a speed greater than the speed of sound. Mach X means that the speed is X times greater than the speed of sound. A Mach 5 would be categorised as Hypersonic speed^^. O/C uses her Psychokinesis to move her forward as fast as she can.

Blood Bound Chapter Masterlist

44 notes · View notes

cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] Kiro’s Qixi Event (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an event which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Kiro’s Qixi date: here (translated by @skyholders)

[ Chapter 1 ]

Accompanying the drum resounding from the Drum Tower, the Qixi temple festival is about to officially commence.

[Trivia] The drum in the Drum Tower would beat at sunset to indicate the end of the day

The lanterns lining the streets light up immediately, illuminating the dazzling stalls and the faces of young people, which are full of anticipation.

Kiro and I agreed to meet here, but I arrived much earlier than our appointed time.

MC: Looks like I’ll have to wait for a long while.

I mutter to myself with a laugh, but I suddenly see a familiar profile from the corner of my eye - it’s him!

Pleasantly surprised, I suddenly have an idea. Bending down and hiding behind the crowd, I hide behind a stall and peek my head out in his direction.

Kiro, who has arrived early, is wearing a hood to cover his conspicuous golden-coloured hair. He weaves through the crowd and reaches the location where we agreed to meet.

He looks calm and composed, and not at all anxious. However, he attracts the attention of a few passing ladies - some of them even muster their courage to strike up a conversation with him.

MC: ...

I furrow my brows, thinking that if I were to continue waiting, I’d be the one to lose out. I bunch up my skirt and walk over softly, planning to scare him.

MC: Ki...!!

When my hand is still in mid-air, Kiro suddenly turns over and meets my eyes.

Kiro: MC, I even thought you’d continue hiding from me.

His eyebrows are curved, full of a smiling expression. It’s as though he has noticed my “furtive” actions since early on.

MC: How did you see me?!

Kiro: You’re so eye-catching, so of course I’d notice you quickly. Even if there are thousands and ten thousands of people, I can still find the most important person at a glance.

[ Chapter 2 ]

The streets are bustling with activity. The lights above us seem to be clustered together, making the area exceptionally lively.

All of a sudden, my hand is held by Kiro, who is standing next to me. I look at him in puzzlement, and meet his serious expression.

Kiro: Don’t get lost.

MC: Even if I get lost, won’t you be able to find me?

Kiro contemplates this, then shakes his head.

Kiro: But I don’t want to be separated from you at all.

Both his voice and the clamour from the streets are at my ear, but the former is exceptionally clear.

At this moment, the sweet smell of fresh pastries wafts from the street, attracting our attention.

MC: Ribbon biscuits! Want to try?

Kiro: Ribbon biscuits?

MC: They are little pastries made out of wheat. You should like the taste!

The pastries, which have been shaped to look like various small animals, cause one to water at the mouth. I reach for the coin pouch tied to my waist, but all I feel is empty space.

MC: Oh no, I’ve forgotten to bring money.

Kiro: Money... Does that refer to the currency used in the mortal world to conduct exchanges?

Empty-handed, we stand facing each other in front of the stall. The vendor seems to have an inkling of what’s going on.

Vendor: If you don’t have money...

Kiro: Is this enough?

Kiro interrupts the vendor’s unhappy shout. A fiery red pearl rests in his palm, and the other party’s eyes light up.

Soon after, we walk along the streets, and Kiro carefully hands me the oil paper holding a “small bunny”.

MC: Aren’t you eating?

Kiro: No need! Weren’t you really looking forward to it? I can give everything I have to you.

The smile in his eyes is pure and clean, untainted by any melancholy.

After a moment of thinking, I use the paper to break the pastry into half, then hand it to him. I also give him a gigantic smile.

MC: And I’ll give you half of my everything!

[ Chapter 3 ]

Once we’ve finished the ribbon biscuit, Kiro and I continue walking down the street and peruse various interesting things.

I keep thinking that the sparkling colours in his eyes are even more beautiful than the dazzling stalls and lanterns.

A few lotus-shaped lanterns float on the small river near the street. Kiro pauses to watch, and he seems to find it interesting.

Kiro: Are these lanterns used to make wishes?

MC: Yes. Even though the gods may not hear them, the lanterns carry the most beautiful wishes.

Kiro: Shall we release a lantern together to give it a try?

Seeing the eagerness in his eyes, I hesitate for a moment before telling him the truth.

MC: But... we don’t have money.

Kiro: I still...

Seeing that Kiro is about to take out another pearl, I immediately stop him.

MC: No need for that. I have an idea. Wait for me!

Qixi temple fairs cannot do without activities which “challenge one’s techniques”. I stand in front of a stall and take a deep breath to calm down. Then, I successfully weave under the moonlight.

MC: I’ve succeeded!

[Trivia] What MC did was 穿七孔针 (”chuan qi kong zhen”), which is a Chinese folk custom done on Qixi. Women have to use five threads of different colours to weave through seven needle holes under the moonlight. This is extremely difficult because of the lack of lighting, the tiny holes, and the wind. People who manage to do this successfully will be praised.

In the midst of the crowd’s cheering, I take the lantern I’ve won, and place it into Kiro’s hands.

MC: This is the return gift for the ribbon biscuit. Now, you can make a wish!

Kiro: We can make a wish together. Even if it bears both of our wishes, it will definitely not sink.

We find a spot near the river without people, and we carefully place the lit lantern into the water together. I clasp my hands together and make a wish. When I open my eyes, I meet his gaze.

Kiro: What did you wish for?

MC: If I say the wish out loud, it wouldn't come true.

Kiro: That wouldn’t happen - I can help you fulfil it!

MC: What if I have many wishes?

I blink, deliberately saying this. However, Kiro suddenly laughs. He moves his fingertips, channelling a wave of faint light.

Countless faint yet bright flames float into the air above us, illuminating the lake, which is enveloped by weeping willows.

The flickering lights fall onto the water surface, reminiscent of lanterns, and also reminiscent of fallen stars and constellations.

Kiro: We have many lanterns now.

Those faint, moving lights illuminate Kiro’s tender eyes, and they look like a brilliant galaxy.

Kiro: This way, it wouldn’t matter how many wishes you make.

[ Chapter 3 ]

As the moon makes its ascent into the sky, the Qixi temple fair draws to an end.

The crowd has already begun to disperse, and the lanterns lining the streets are waning. Kiro and I walk along the street, and it suddenly feels slightly desolate.

MC: If only Qixi could be extended for just a little longer...

Kiro: The night will always come to an end.

Kiro sees my disappointment. He holds onto my hand tightly, then points towards a stone bridge not afar off on the river.

Kiro: I heard that people who walk across the bridge will experience long-lasting love. Do you believe in this legend?

I know that it’s just a normal bridge, so I shake my head.

MC: Actually, I’ve never believed it.

Kiro: Then just believe me.

Kiro pulls me and we step onto the empty stone bridge. Our shadows, along with the shadow of the bridge, are cast on the water, and they look somewhat cold and lonely.

Kiro: I’ll give you a long time.

He turns his head over, looking at me with a serious expression.

Kiro: Let me give you a surprise, MC.

Puzzled, I nod my head. In the next moment, the view which is carried by with the rustling wind leaves me shocked. My eyes widen.

Countless magpies appear in the sky, forming a bridge above our heads. The combination of the bridge on land and the bridge in the water culminate to form an exceptionally surreal image.

Kiro: This is the “magpie bridge” mentioned in the legend. There’s no need to wait for Qixi. No matter when it is, and no matter where it is, as long as you think of me, we can always reunite.

His eyes reflect the moon in the sky, the waves on the water, and me. They encase me, and are both as tender as a mirage, and as real as they can be.

Kiro: Not just today. MC, all the promises I make to you - they will last for a lifetime.

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc kiro

69 notes · View notes

umbry-fic · 3 years

Text

A Palette Full of You (2)

Summary: Glimpses into Colette and Lloyd's lives as they grow up together, learn who they are, and fall in love with each other.

(Written for Colloyd Week 2021)

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel Relationships: Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving Rating: G Chapter: 2 of 6 Word Count: 4212 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 10/06/2021

Chapter Title: Save the Children!

Chapter Summary: Lloyd and Colette take a break from studying and decide to play a video game. Colette starts to ruminate a little on how she's different from the rest of her classmates...

(Colloyd Week Day 2: Sidequest)

Notes+Warnings: Chapter 2 of my multi-chapter Colloyd week fic! Colette and Lloyd play a bunch of Kameo: Elements of Power. Lloyd is bisexual. This chapter might have a bit of internalised acephobia so beware.

Chapter list Full fic Previous chapter Next chapter

~~~

12-years-old

"There! Over there!" Colette shouted, dropping the Xbox controller onto her lap and gesturing frantically towards a corner of the television screen. In her frantic excitement, she completely forgot that Lloyd was sitting right next to her on the sofa, her elbow banging straight into Lloyd's arm.

Lloyd, startled, pitched to the side and pushed the joystick on his Xbox controller in the same direction.

Major Ruin, who Lloyd had been controlling to charge up a Bolder Rush, executed the move at this exact moment as Lloyd let go of the right trigger.

And so Major Ruin careened right off the edge of the platform, as per the directions Lloyd had just inputted into the game. The tragic end to a glorious adventure. Kameo would never rescue her father from her sister’s evil clutches, for she had fallen to her death from a high height... by complete accident. Or maybe it would be better to class this as incompetence?

Oops.

"Oh, no," they both muttered at the same time, staring with their mouths open in horror. Colette reached out uselessly towards the TV, as if she could reach into the game and stop Major Ruin’s fall.

As if.

The armadillo look-alike Earth elemental (except a lot spikier) continued to fall while flailing their stubby limbs uselessly, eventually hitting the ground with the familiar and resonant "thud", accompanied with the dreaded snapping sound that had populated much of their playtime in the Snow-top Village. The thin and winding ice paths throughout that area had led to many a death from fall damage as they had tried to get their hands on the elemental fruits hidden away among various corners. Now that they were in the Ancient Tower, with its dark, foreboding, narrow stone corridors lit only by the sparest of torches sitting in sconces, where there was only one path forward and they were caged in by walls, Colette thought their falling episodes would be over. It was a bit claustrophobic, really.

It appeared that was not the case. Fall damage was eternal, and it would haunt them always, following them everywhere and showing its face at the most inopportune of moments.

Major Ruin morphed back into Kameo's petite, winged form, collapsing to the ground with a pained groan. Lloyd's side of the screen faded to black before he respawned at the last checkpoint, erasing a full 20 minutes of progress. The Kameo that Colette controlled was now completely alone in the chamber, performing her idle animations as Colette’s controller went untouched. Lloyd dropped his Xbox controller into his lap as well, leaning back against the sofa as he let out a groan of his own.

There was no sound apart from the whirring coming from the Xbox under the TV, the game music, and the "whup-whup" of the blades of the ancient standing fan in the corner of the living room, struggling in its job to blow "cool" air at them and combat the viciously hot weather.

Lloyd had every right to be frustrated with her; she had a tendency to kill him in-game. It wasn't murder, just manslaughter: knocking him off the cliff, setting both of them on fire, or startling him in general. It wasn't just in Kameo. Her clumsiness and butterfingers translated to every genre. No matter the game - Mario, Minecraft, Maplestory - she always found some way to cause a game over.

But he'd never directed any frustration or anger towards her. These are just silly games, he said every time. Much easier to laugh over the mirthful consequences together than get mad. Whenever they had the time to play video games together, the air was filled with nothing but laughter, a few frustrated grumbles from when they were struggling at a particular level, and the occasional rib from Lloyd’s end when she messed up. That's what made it incredibly fun. What the two of them had termed "game-time" never failed to put a smile on their faces.

And it was an effective destresser! It was a great relief to be able to channel all the stress from studying for PSLE into beating up trolls in Kameo. That appeared to be Lloyd's favourite part of the game - racking up combos with his favourite character Pummel Weed. Though she had to say her favourite part of the game so far was watching the cutscenes that played after rescuing the baby elementals from the prisons created by the nefarious shadow trolls. The wacky transformation from adorable blob to full-fledged elemental, complete with the blob sprouting arms and growing claws or shells, was… interesting to witness.

"Sorry," she sheepishly said, still feeling the need to apologise as she patted his hand. "Didn't mean to startle you. It's just that I found the last child!"

"Oh, really? Where?” Lloyd asked eagerly, attention turning back to the TV. “I couldn't see anything. It's all so dark."

"Over there." More calmly this time, Colette pointed out the child encased in a translucent ice crystal, tucked away in a corner of the platform hidden in shadow. She’d forgotten the name of this species, and could only describe them as cuttlefish that had taken human form. What were they were doing so far from the Mountain Falls? Weren't they native to that location? "We need to free them quickly! This is the last child."

“The last - you’ve been keeping count?!” Lloyd asked, voice rising in volume and shock written clearly across his face.

“Yeah! The mother said there were three, and we’ve rescued two. She must have been really worried, or she wouldn’t have begged us to save her children. I want to reunite them as soon as possible!”

"Alright. Ice, huh? It'd be similar to the other crystals we got rid of in the snow area. So just turn into Ash!" Lloyd suggested.

"Oh, you're right! Thanks for the reminder!" Colette opened the transformation wheel with a quick press of a button and proceeded to fumble with the joystick for a full minute while Lloyd slowly crawled his way back up the tower. She kept pushing too far to the right and overshooting Ash's dragon head on the wheel to land on Thermite, before overcorrecting to the left and landing on 40 Below. Frustration slowly piled up until she groaned, burying her head in her lap. This was embarrassing. She couldn't even navigate a simple menu like this, even after months of playing this game. Butterfingers, once again.

"Lloyd, can you open the main menu? I'll just pick Ash from there."

"Nah, we don't need to open Wotnot. Let's give Ortho a break for now," Lloyd replied. She knew that wasn't the real reason. Lloyd just didn’t want to hear from the eccentric wizard trapped within the paperback book that doubled as the main menu. "Here, let me help. But you need to get up first!" She straightened up, still sulking as he smiled at her, looking like he was holding back laughter at her predicament.

Lloyd stretched out his hand and placed his index finger over her thumb, gently guiding her thumb on the joystick so that the selection square landed right on Ash's head. Colette watched as Kameo hunched over and transformed into the red, clawed, scaly dragon that was the fire elemental Ash, tail slowly swaying from side-to-side as his wings flapped.

"You're so good at this..." she muttered, glancing down at her controller where Lloyd's hand was still placed over hers. They were only 12, but his hands were already slightly bigger than hers. He'd gotten his growth spurt in the earlier part of this year and shot up in height; now half a head taller than her. It was a slightly startling change after being the same height for the six years they'd known each other. He would likely only grow taller as time went on. As for herself... Maybe she'd gain another 5 centimetres by the time she was 18, if she was lucky. Given the actual state of her luck, she'd probably stagnate at her current height. Tallness was just not in the cards for her.

Not that she minded. The added height made him rather comfortable to lie on. If he gained just a few more centimetres, his shoulder would be the perfect height to rest her head on… That would make movie nights all the more comfortable.

Plus, the height change was just that. A physical change. Inside, Lloyd was still the same person - the boy who loved playing with Noishe but hated doing his homework, and would do everything in the world to avoid it. He hadn't changed. Not a single bit.

"Don’t sweat it. There are so many things you’re good at too! If it weren’t for your keen eye, I would’ve missed the kid entirely… So don’t be too bothered!” Lloyd gave her hand one squeeze before removing his hand, returning to his quest of returning to Colette's location. "Now, melt the ice!”

Colette did exactly that, leading the lumbering Ash over to the entrapped child and unleashing his fire breath. She watched with bated breath as the ice slowly melted, causing more of the child to be exposed to the air. They had previously used this exact same technique to unearth elemental fruits in the icy caverns filled with those icky bugs that exploded when defeated and obscured the screen with blue juice. It had been exciting then, to stumble upon secrets because of their penchant for exploration. But watching the child slowly be freed, watching their tentacles slowly start to move as they came into contact with warm air, was an entirely different experience, one that filled her with joy.

When was the last time the two of them completed a side objective like this, one that had direct effects on a citizen of this magical world? Casting her mind back informed her that that would be the starting town, when they returned to water the farmer’s crops with Deep Blue.

Now that the last child had been fully freed, all the children went running back to their worried mother, who proceeded to pull them into a giant group hug. Colette dropped her controller, clapping her hands together at such a sweet sight. Lloyd did laugh, then, a chuckle that she could feel rumble through her as well from where their shoulders touched. "What are you so excited about?" he asked.

"We did it! We saved all the children!" she exclaimed, watching the mother pull out one of the large elemental fruit in thanks. "Doesn't that make you happy? That we were able to help someone... That's what makes these side objectives fulfilling, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. It's just like you to get like this over a video game,” Lloyd replied, watching Kameo hoist the elemental fruit into the air, where it magically shrunk in size to fit in her bag. Colette wondered how Kameo’s bag even worked - how did it store Wotnot and dozens of elemental fruits? It was like a black hole. Just like Noishe's stomach.

“Though..." Lloyd frowned, staring up at the clock that hung on the wall, whose hands indicated that it was 2 pm. "Time’s up. We should get back to revising before Mom gets home from the vet with Noishe."

"Oh, you're right..." That was a downer. Time had flown so fast; their 20 minutes were up already!

The moment had come to return to the dining table and the assessment books that sat open on it. Studying was never fun, but it just had to be math today, and the chapter just had to be nets. Her most hated subject, combined with the topic she hated most. It was a headache all around.

But Lloyd was surprisingly good at nets, and he'd been a great help the whole day. Even if he still hated math with a passion and always got stuck on algebra questions, where it was her turn to assist him. That was why studying together was effective! They could fill in the gaps for each other, and motivate each other to keep going. Just three months left to go until it was all over! They could do this, and they would get through it. Together, just as they would every predicament that came to pass in the future.

"Um, and before you go home today, could you help me with something else?"

"What is it?" Colette asked, reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table. Lloyd was staring at the carpet, his hand absent-mindedly pulling at the hem of his singlet, separating the fabric from sweaty skin.

“Ellum’s birthday present,” Lloyd muttered, his voice getting softer with each word he spoke, until she could barely make out the words. “His birthday is in two weeks, and I…”

Ohhh.

They had a habit of telling each other almost everything, for any secret was always safe with the other. So she knew why Lloyd was clamming up. Ellum was his current crush, after all.

“Say no more. Of course I’ll help you! We can do whatever you want!” she replied with enthusiasm. She'd be happy to help.

"Thank you," Lloyd replied, meeting her gaze again with a tiny smile lighting up his face. "Now, let's get back to studying."

They made the short walk to the dining table, taking their seats across from each other. Lloyd's face was already starting to twist into a grimace, resigning himself to another few hours of torture at the hands of the twisted people who made their livelihood setting math questions.

Clearing away the Kit Kat wrappers on her assessment book, she glanced down at a question about nets she'd been working on before the break. Yet not a single word on the page was being absorbed. They were all running away from her.

The downside of Lloyd confiding in her for all of his crushes was that it was a stark reminder that she hadn't had her first one yet. And then, inevitably, her mind would drift further to all the little ways she stood out from her classmates.

It was like everyone around her had changed drastically overnight at some unknown point in time. The jokesters of the class had just started making dirty jokes one day, prompting scandalised glares from the rest of the class but also prompting snickers. She herself didn't get the joke half the time, just laughed to go along with everyone else.

Then there was the shift in daily conversation. Instead of discussing their favourite Pokémon, more often than not the other girls would now discuss in hushed voices while giggling which celebrity was the most attractive. She herself would sit quietly, trying to melt into the wall as she observed without interjecting, half fascinated and half horrified. Weren't they all too young for this?

Things got even more awkward when she was forcibly pulled into the conversation when someone directed a question at her. She had no idea what to say whenever someone showed her a picture of a celebrity and asked her to rate them. The only thing she ever managed to stutter out was that their eyes were a nice colour, and so was their hair. That... was how you judged a person on how attractive they were, right? Everyone else, though, seemed to think she was weird. But how was she supposed to be feeling? No one had ever taught her. It felt like everyone was keeping a secret from her on how these things were supposed to work, then making fun of her for not getting it.

She only got more confused every time something like that happened. All she wanted to do was go back to talking about her favourite cartoons, but that didn't seem to be an option. Lloyd wasn't in the same class as her, so she couldn't even sit with him and ignore everyone else. The only time she could meet up with him during school hours was at recess. She didn't know what Lloyd talked about with the rest of his friends. Maybe the same stuff. But she didn't really care, because, with him, she could just be herself. There was no need for tiring pretence.

All she could do when the girls were in a mood to discuss celebrities again was sit a little outside of their circle, counting down the seconds remaining for class to start while she tried to look as occupied as possible. She couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief every time the topic of conversation turned back to something a little easier to understand, like video games.

But surely, someday, she would understand.

She was waiting. For that day. For her to finally catch up to everyone else in the race she hadn’t even known she’d entered until everyone had left her in the dust, still standing with her mouth agape at the starting line. To finally be like everyone else, to be able to fit in seamlessly. But there was no use getting down about it!

She just had to meet The One. Then everything would change, everything would fix itself. That's what happened in all the stories, the shows, the movies, after all.

Because everyone, in the end, learned to feel the same way, right?

~~~

19-years-old

"Right! I think that’s enough for now.” Colette’s voice shattered the serenity of her room from where she was sitting on the bed with her laptop balanced in her lap, cutting through the sleepy fog that was starting to fill Lloyd’s head. The peaceful Ghibli tunes that had been filling the room cut off abruptly as she shut her laptop screen, reaching a hand up to undo her messy hair bun.

Lloyd yawned, rubbing his eyes and hoping that would make his eyelids feel less heavy. Pushing himself up from his belly-down position on the bed, he caught one last glance of the back of Colette's neck before her hair covered it again. Doing prep for uni was not the most exciting way to pass the afternoon, and it certainly wasn't normal fare for a date. But it had to be done, so they might as well do it together, as they did all things.

Though he'd gotten distracted and started scrolling through YouTube about an hour ago.

"Are you going to change out of pyjamas?” Lloyd asked, stretching, his shirt hiking up slightly. He’d taken the lift down the three floors that separated his apartment and hers in the old HDB block that they’d stayed in all their lives, rang the doorbell while staring at the Chinese New Year decorations that were still hung up despite the month now being April, and waited for Colette to open the door… Only to be met with the sight of Colette in her favourite doggie pyjamas, the baby blue button-up ones that covered every inch of her skin. She'd shrugged and said it was cold from the non-stop rain, but he knew the real reason was the lazy post-A-levels haze, that affected him as well. These days, sleeping in until noon was the norm. Or sleeping in until one of his parents came into his bedroom to knock him awake.

“Yeah,” she replied, grabbing a towel and a few articles of clothing from the open wardrobe and heading towards the doorway.

“Alright.”

Lloyd closed his laptop slowly, not wanting a repeat of the time in Secondary 3 he’d shattered the screen because Zelos had sneaked up on him and caught him unawares. He rolled off the bed, making the small trip of barely a few steps to the study table, passing the various objects Colette had up on the walls - the Disney posters she’d gotten ages ago, and the random stickers she’d amassed over the years from school club sales and donations - and the bay window filled to the brim with cute and huggable soft toys, a familiar Siberian Husky that showed the signs of being well-loved sitting atop the pile.

Lying on the study table was Colette’s Nintendo Switch, plugged into a socket to charge. Right next to it was a jar holding paintbrushes of all sizes, all of them as clean of paint as possible, for he knew Colette took extremely good care of her art supplies. The sketchbook no one was allowed to peek into was sticking out of the table’s drawer, half-used pads of foolscap and sheets of paper with pencils rolling in them visible within. Files that he’d nearly kicked, containing lecture notes and worksheets, were shoved into messy piles under the table, unneeded after the conclusion of examinations but having no convenient place to be stored. The tiny shelf sitting on the table still had her Junior College badge housed on one of the layers, silver in colour and reflecting the light from the windows, despite her having no use for it ever since they had graduated in November. (Perhaps she liked looking at it? She was something of a magpie sometimes.) He could spot a familiar conch shell, placed among other knick-knacks, mostly birthday presents.

Picking up the handheld (with its lime green and cyan JoyCons firmly attached), he unplugged the charger and watched the screen light up - and frowned at what it showed him.

"Hey, Colette!" he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. He hoped he could catch her before she entered the bathroom. Uncle Frank was working in the master bedroom no more than five metres away and had been nothing less than incredibly nice, as he always was, providing tons of refreshments and snacks. Lloyd would like to prevent a shouting relay if possible.

If Colette had been walking, she shouldn't have reached the bathroom yet...

The fast pitter-patter of bare feet against the floor informed him that he was right. "What is it, Lloyd?" Colette's head poked its way into the doorframe, her golden hair reaching down towards the floor, her blue eyes wide and questioning.

"You left Animal Crossing on," he answered, waving the Switch in the air.

Her eyes lit up in understanding. "Oh. You know what to do, right?"

Control the playable character and put her to sleep, then save the game. He'd done it before.

"Yeah, but, I was thinking... I haven't taken a walk on your island since last year. How about I take another tour while you're in the bathroom? If you're okay with it, of course."

"Oh, sure! I trust you." Colette smiled sweetly, turning to leave before pausing and turning back. "But remember -"

"- remember not to step on the flowers." Lloyd finished her sentence easily, stating that fact very seriously. He knew about Colette's concerns about her precious flowers, which she’d spent hours arranging around her little island until they were in just the right spot - fields of rainbows to welcome any guests and guide them around. He hadn't known that the stems of the flowers could break from being trampled multiple times when he first explored her quaint world - the fictional flowers were just as fragile as their real-life counterparts. He’d kept that in mind ever since, adding it to the many rules to follow to ensure no harm came to all the hard work Colette had put in to make her island perfect.

"Yep. Um…” Colette wrung her hands together, bowing her head so her hair formed a veil over her face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking a step towards her.

“No, nothing’s wrong!” Colette hurriedly replied, lifting her head again. She screwed her eyes shut, hands clenching into fists. “I - uh, just wanted to say… I love you!”

The last three words came out in a shout, so quick that he almost didn’t catch them.

Lloyd froze, trying to process what he’d just heard - and before he could reply, Colette was already gone, having fled down the corridor and out of sight.

He slowly shut his mouth, which he hadn’t even realised was open.

This was the first time she’d said those coveted three words since they'd started dating. Her voice had been dripping with uncertainty, her posture betraying her shyness, but no matter how contradictory, she’d said it with sincerity, with all her heart. And even though he didn't need to hear them from her to know she loved him, for it was actions that counted, and certainly didn't need to hear them from her for him to love her, it still made him smile, his whole soul filled with a light warmth.

They’d travelled such a long way from all the checkpoints in life that they'd passed together. They still had a long way to go, but they’d do it together. As they always had.

"I love you too, silly," he said into empty space, knowing Colette couldn't hear him but wanting to say it anyway.

Lloyd unlocked the Switch screen, staring down at Colette's intricate creation. Flowers filled the screen, black, grey, white, purple, that he found familiar but couldn't put a name to. Oh, well. He would just tour the island and check out any new changes while he walked to the living room and waited for Colette to come back. Maybe he'd visit the town centre as well.

The most vital question to be answered was... Had Colette gotten those froggy chairs that she wanted for the townspeople?

~~~

Next chapter

#fanfiction #multi chapter #lloyd irving #colette brunel #colloyd #colloydweek2021 #day 2: sidequest #tales of symphonia

3 notes · View notes

chiaki-translation · 4 years

Text

Luminous Circus: Event Translation Ch3-4

For the sake of Kazu, I really wanted to read the event story for Luminous Circus, but I found out that there’s only 2 chapters available in the wiki. Sooooooo, what else to do but translate the story myself? I’m not sure that I will translate the entire play especially if it’s long, but I’m determined to translate the event story at least. Can I make it before Kazu’s birthday? Idk but I’ll try~ (Oh yeah, if this story has actually been translated, can someone tell me? Thank you~)

Ch3-4 / / Ch5-6 / / Ch7-8 / / Ch9-10 / / Epilogue

You can take a look at the first two chapters here in the wiki, and my translation will be below the cut, enjoy~

https://yaycupcake.com/a3/index.php?title=The_Luminous_Circus

Disclaimer:

A3! is owned by Liber Entertainment

Homare’s Grandfather:

You can do anything you want with this room.

You said you need a study right?

Homare’s Grandmother:

If it’s Haiku I can make it while I’m walking.

I don’t need such a big study for that.

For example, one that I made recently…

Homare’s Grandfather:

Fu, I thought it would make you happy, you don’t really like gathering for party or tea right?

I just thought that you need a place to be by yourself.

Homare’s Grandmother:

…It’s not my fault that I can’t make anything.

Let me use the place then.

Homare’s Grandfather:

What should we put here?

How about a Mahogany desk by the window.

We can get shelf from the store, and you can line up your favourite books there.

You can also place your favourite rose over there.

Homare’s Grandmother:

No. With that painting…

I’m good with a table set to have tea with you.

Homare’s Grandfather:

I see.

Then, let’s do as you wish.

Homare’s Grandmother:

…

Homare:

Grandmother, do you want some tea.

Homare’ Grandmother:

With pleasure.

Homare:

I always thought about it, but this place is very bleak and monotonous.

How about adding a bit more interior?

Homare’s Grandmother:

…. Fu.

Homare:

Grandmother?

Homare’s Grandmother:

We’re planning to have reinforcement work here soon.

It’s an old building, so I’ve been worried that it’s going to be blown away when typhoon came.

It seems that a big typhoon is approaching too…

I’ll leave the interior to you.

You can do anything you want.

Homare:

--Yes! I’ll make sure it has the calm and meaningful atmosphere that grandmother likes.

Homare’s Grandmother:

There’s only one thing… I want this painting to be put here as it is now.

Homare:

Ah, it’s always displayed over here.

Homare’s Grandmother:

It’s my treasure.

Homare:

Grandmother’s…

Homare’s Grandmother:

You looked surprised.

Homare:

Ah, nothing—

Who’s the name of the painter?

Homare’s Grandmother:

He’s not that famous.

That’s why, I can’t recall anything about him.

Homare:

Then, --

Homare’s Grandmother:

…

By the way, is that pocket watch still moving?

Homare:

Eh, yeah, of course.

I’ve gotten it taken care of in an excellent repair shop.

Tasuku:

Is Arisugawa inside?

Hisoka:

…He’s staying over at his family’s home today.

Tasuku:

Then, please pass this back to Arisugawa.

Hisoka:

…The pocket watch, is it fixed?

Tasuku:

For now, but the parts are getting worn out, I think it will break soon.

The parts are not available anymore, it’s really reaching the end of its lifespan.

Handle it carefully.

If it’s subjected to shock, you’ll shorten its lifespan even more.

Hisoka:

…Understood.

Tasuku:

About Arisugawa’s grandmother’s condition…

Hisoka:

Tasuku:

Nothing—There’s a message inside of that pocket watch right.

It said, “To the mechanical you, with love. Sakae.”

When I look at that earlier, I’m somehow reminded of Arisugawa’s grandfather and grandmother. I’m just a bit curious.

Hisoka:

…Why not try and LIME Alice.

Tasuku:

Me, out of the blue? That would be weird isn’t it.

Hisoka:

Whoever it is, anyone would be happy if someone else expresses concern for their family.

Tasuku:

…I see. I guess so.

Hisoka:

…Zzzzzzz

Tasuku:

Don’t sleep while you’re still holding the pocket watch!

You’ll drop it!

Sigh… And I thought you said something decent for once.

Director:

That was so interesting!

As Tenma-kun said, the circus scene was so powerful!

Kazunari:

The overall color was so psychedelic it’s interesting~!

Tsumugi:

The unique world view was pretty interesting too.

Sakuya:

I’ve never seen a circus before and I can’t imagine it by just reading the book, but…

After watching the movie, I thought it’s really great!

It’s like I’m sucked into the world of dream and imagination.

When I saw the audiences, who seemed to be having so much fun inside the dream world, I can’t help to think that circus is such a great thing!

Kazunari:

You know, Sumi had a part time job in a circus before.

Sakuya:

Eh!? Really!?

Tsumugi:

That part time job really fits Misumi-kun.

Sakuya:

That’s so nice~ I also want to try it.

But I don’t have athletic capabilities and reflexes like Misumi-san so it’s probably impossible for me.

Tsumugi:

Even if you’re not the performer, there might be jobs available behind the scene isn’t it.

Kazunari:

A clown for example, it doesn’t seem that they would ask for high athletic capabilities for that.

Let’s go ask Sumi about it!

Sakuya:

Right. Let’s go!

Director:

Eh, there’s a car parked in front of the dorm.

Kazunari:

Woah, isn’t that Rolls Royce!

Sakuya:

Eh! That is!?

It’s my first time seeing it.

Tsumugi:

It’s such a luxurious car.

Homare:

…

Director:

Homare-san!?

Homare:

Oh, is everyone going out.

Tsumugi:

We just came back from a movie.

Homare:

I see.

Oh yeah, Kazunari-kun.

I have something to consult to you about.

Kazunari:

Consult?

Homare:

Yeah. Actually, there’s a room that’s going to be refurbished in my family home and there’s a painting I want to decorate the room with.

For my grandmother’s sake, I want to decorate the room to her liking, so I wonder if you can draw just one piece for me.

Kazunari:

Me!?

Rather than me, isn’t is better to ask a more famous painter or something?

Homare:

My grandmother is not someone who cares about that kind of things.

In addition, even though you have no name right now, I’m certain that you are the one person I can count on to be a well-known painter one day.

Kazunari:

Aririn…

Homare:

So, let’s do a collaboration, that painting by you, who have such a promising future, and my poem!

Kazunari:

Collab!?

That sounds great! I’m looking forward to it!

Director:

A collab between Homare-san’s poem and traditional Japanese painting, what kind of wind is brewing over here I wonder…?

Tsumugi:

Umm… I can’t really imagine it, but if it’s Homare-san’s grandmother, maybe she’ll be happy about it.

Kazunari:

I kinda want to see the image of the room that you’re going to decorate, so is it okay for me to visit Aririn’s family home?

Homare:

Of course!

Tenma:

The wind is pretty strong tonight.

Tsumugi:

Looking at the path of the typhoon, it’s going to be a direct hit.

Banri:

It seems that we won’t be able to go out tomorrow.

Director:

Everyone, let’s begin the leader’s meeting.

Today, I was thinking that we should discuss our third Mixed Play performance.

Tsuzuru:

Ah, can I say something.

Director:

Yeah.

Tsuzuru:

I’ve drafted out a few plots that we can use this time, we can see if there’s anything we can use from these.

Tenma:

…There’re really a lot.

Tsumugi:

This story about animal’s banquet, sounds pretty novel.

Director:

It’s a play where everyone needs to dress up as kigurumi for the performance.

Tsumugi:

But it’s something that requires a different technique compared to the usual performance, it might be quite rewarding at the end.

Banri:

Wait, do you even need the technique to perform in a kigurumi!?

Sakuya:

This story of Tengu too, seems to have different atmosphere than usual, sounds interesting!

Tsumugi:

You’re right, we don’t have things like that before.

Tenma:

This, are we all going to wear mask?

Banri:

I would hate trying to sell this idea to Azami.

Tsumugi:

Isn’t it okay if we go for mask-like make up.

Tenma:

Why this problem?

Tsuzuru:

At this point, I haven’t thought whether all of these ideas can be realized, there’re quite a lot of problems huh~

Director:

Tsuzuru-kun, do you have anything you want to write among these ideas?

Tsuzuru:

Hmm, the one that I have most ideas for the plot will be this circus one over here.

Director:

(It’s a fairytale like story about a struggling circus group with a tinge of fantasy on the stage…)

Sakuya:

Woah, it’s a wonderful story!

I just watched a circus themed movie earlier, and I thought there’re really a lot of dreams presented in the circus--

Tsuzuru:

If that’s the case, do you want to do it, Sakuya?

Sakuya:

Is it alright!?

Tenma:

If you’re thinking about the characters, Sakuya might become the clown or the trapeze artist.

Director:

The lead, the circus troupe leader, George, I wonder who will be a good fit for him?

Tsuzuru:

Ah, actually, I have someone in mind—

*lights out*

Tenma:

Wh, wha wha wha wha wha wha what!?

Tsumugi:

A blackout?

Banri:

I’ll use the smartphone light for now.

Sakuya:

*accidentally bump into Tenma*

Ouch!

Tenma:

Wh, who who who who who’s there!

Sakuya:

So, sorry, it seems I accidentally bumped into you--

Banri:

Don’t move. I’ll turn on the lights now.

Ouch!

Tenma:

Wha, what is it this time!

Banri:

That’s, just my leg.

Tsumugi:

Tenma-kun, calm down.

*lights on*

Director:

Ah, the light’s back.

Tenma:

Fuh, don’t surprised me like that.

Tsumugi:

Tenma-kun, why are you against the wall?

Tenma:

I, It’s just a mistake!

Director:

I wonder if the other places are fine?

Anyway, let’s just conclude the meeting for now.

Sakuya:

I’ll go and see the breaker!

Tsumugi:

I’ll go with you.

Tenma:

In that case, me too--

Banri:

You better stop right there.

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! mixed play #a3! translation #homare arisugawa #kazunari miyoshi #sakuya sakuma #sakisaka muku

31 notes · View notes

lifeofkaze · 3 years

Text

An Art of Balance #8

Orion Amari x MC

A/N: I did it, under 2.000 words, hooray! And not because that’s actually HALF of a chapter that I had to split due to way too many words. Sigh. As always, Katriona Cassiopeia belongs to my amazing friend @kc-needs-coffee, I love borrowing her so much <3

Warning: mild swearing

Word Count: ~ 1.700

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 8: Rain & Thunder

Much to her dismay, Lizzie had been right.

Skye had decided to cope with her emotions by converting them into anger, most of it directed at her. Although completely unwarranted, they hadn’t exchanged any words above the bare minimum since the incident at the Quidditch stands. Lizzie had tried to talk sense into her at first, but after a few attempts she had given up.

If Skye was intent on making Lizzie her emotional punching bag, good riddance to her.

As the usual mediator between the girls, McNully had suggested to get Penny to reason with her, but the blond girl had downright refused.

“She is embarrassed because of me, I’m the last person she wants to see right now.”

So they had had no choice but to accept Skye’s stubbornness and leave her alone. It pained Lizzie to be shut out by her friend once again, but there was nothing she could do to set things right. She only hoped they would work things out in time for the match against Ravenclaw.

Lizzie shivered as she fastened the buckles of her Quidditch gloves tighter. The air in the Hufflepuff changing room was freezing, the icy winds howling outside making her wish the match was already over and done with.

The cold had hit them earlier than usual this year. It had been raining ceaselessly for the last week and today was not an exception. Even over the sharp gusts of wind Lizzie could hear the rumble of the excited crowd that had gathered on the stands to watch the match Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw despite the horrific conditions.

It was almost time for the teams to enter the pitch. Lizzie could feel the familiar flutter in her stomach settling in. Even after all these years, she had to fight hard to keep her cool before every single match. Pacing up and down, brimming with anticipation, she glanced over to Orion. He was fastening his captain’s armband above his jersey, looking as deeply relaxed as ever; nothing seemed to be able to shake him out of his balanced state of mind.

Trying to distract herself, Lizzie’s mind wandered back to their last tutoring session in the greenhouse a few days earlier. They had talked about her strained relationship with Skye and discussed tactical options for the match ahead. Developing strategies for possible scenarios while trimming leaves or repotting plants had become somewhat of a habit for them.

Unfortunately, Rowan got left out of the conversation when she and Orion started discussing team matters; and while Lizzie did feel guilty about not exactly furthering her friend’s ambitions, somehow, she just couldn’t help herself. She had always found Orion easy to open up to, but since they had started sharing something besides Quidditch, Lizzie had discovered he was much more faceted than she had thought before.

Sensing her nerves, Orion casually strolled over to her and put his hand reassuringly upon her shoulder.

“Relax, we’ll be doing fine. Just remember our strategy. If the universe does not interfere, we will come out on top.”

A derisive snort behind them had them turn their heads. Skye, who was leaning against one of the poles supporting the huge tent, was shaking her head in disbelief.

“Our strategy is bollocks if you ask me. Ravenclaw’s Beaters are far too skilled for this nonsense you came up with. Cassiopeia almost never misses a target and I know personally what it does to you to take a Bludger from Rath.”

“This is not the time, Skye. We have agreed on a plan and we are sticking to it. Changing everything now will severely unbalance our team. More so than it is already,” Orion replied calmly, but Lizzie could make out an edge of tension to his voice.

“We wouldn’t have to change anything if the plan was decent. I could have come up with something better suited in a heartbeat,” Skye huffed.

Lizzie’s had heard enough. She was already on edge as it was, and Skye criticising Orion mere minutes before the beginning of the match was enough to make her snap. She abruptly turned around fully to face the other girl.

“Tell you what, Skye I’m so fucking great Parkin. Orion’s strategy is sound, Orion’s strategy is valid and Orion’s strategy will help us win this thing. If you have a problem with this, I suggest next time you don’t run off practise as soon as your feet hit the ground, just because you have a problem with your overinflated ego!”

Skye’s face turned red, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Who do you even think you are, you- “

“That is enough, I believe.” Orion firmly stepped between them, keeping them apart with his hands, their eyes shooting daggers at each other. For a moment, his calm eyes caught Lizzie’s, begging her wordlessly to back down before things got even worse.

Lizzie was not nearly done with Skye; all the times she had been the target of her unwarranted anger were bubbling to the surface with force. But the steady look in Orion’s dark eyes cooled her fury enough to let her draw a deep, steadying breath. Without a word she spun around and stalked to the other end of the changing room.

As Orion called their team towards the huge blackboard at the far end of the changing room soon after, she tried to put her racing mind back to order. This was not the time for fights.

She sat down between Everett and Lucy, watching Orion prepare for their obligatory moment of vivification. Now he was all captain, entirely focused on the task ahead of them.

Listening to his enthusiastic speech, Lizzie felt herself relax. Her boiling rage subsided as her mind focused solely on what was to come. The tingling sensation in her stomach turned to burning excitement to finally get going. Even Skye seemed to be listening attentively.

“This match will set the tone for the rest of the season. Together, my friends, we will vanquish the challenge ahead of us. We will fight for one another as we will fight for the Quidditch Cup. We will fight and we will win, as one team,” Orion concluded his speech.

“One team!” they echoed, firing themselves up. Everybody grabbed their broomsticks and headed towards the exit of the tent when Orion called Lizzie and Skye back. Both girls eyed each other warily, neither saying a word. Orion sighed, his frustration palpable.

“My friends, I hope both of you take our motto to heart. We are one team. We need to be a union to succeed. Especially the three of us; we need to work together in harmony, or we will have a hard time against our formidable opponents.”

Lizzie said nothing, waiting for Skye’s response. She already felt sorry for having had a go at her, and just before the match at that. But she was adamant not yield to her this time. If Skye felt the need to fight, she could very well have that.

Skye’s expression was motionless, however. “I think we need to go. Madam Hooch blew her whistle twice already, won’t wait for us much longer.”

Without so much as another look at them, she turned around and jogged out of the tent, leaving Orion and Lizzie behind.

Lizzie was breathing hard. They were one hour into the match and it was exactly as Orion had feared.

Ravenclaw was destroying them.

The other team was in the lead, the score standing at 70 to 30. Lizzie grit her teeth every time McNully announced another shot had made it past their Keeper.

The Hufflepuff offence was utterly teethless. Most of their passes got intercepted and Andre, playing as Keeper for Ravenclaw, managed to block most attempts at his goal posts. Where Lizzie usually felt connected to Orion and Skye, she could have been alone on the pitch for what it was worth today.

Their defence was in shambles as well, the gushing wind making it almost impossible for the Hufflepuff Beaters to accurately aim a Bludger at the attacking Chasers. In fact, one of Everett’s Bludgers had almost knocked Orion out earlier.

This was not a problem Ravenclaw’s Beaters seemed to have though. Rath had been tailing Skye for the whole match, while KC had been keeping a sharp eye on Lizzie. They were effectively cancelling them out of the action, the Ravenclaw Chasers taking care of stopping Orion.

Frustrated, Lizzie wiped the stinging rain out of her eyes and gripped the Quaffle harder when a flash of blue robes and fiery red hair shot past her.

“Cassiopeia is overtaking Jameson, what is she up to? We are about to find out!” McNully’s magically enhanced voice echoed over the pitch, drowning out the roar of the crowd and the thunder rolling in the distance.

“A Bludger has set its path into Cassiopeia’s direction, there is only one way she can stop Jameson from a shot at the Ravenclaw goal posts, a good old-fashioned Bludger Back-Beat!”

Lizzie had seen it as well. The Bludger was racing towards KC who, with a quick glance over her shoulder, swung her bat expertly behind her, redirecting the Bludger towards Lizzie with full force.

She quickly leaned to the side, as the iron sphere shot towards her, but the distance between her and KC had just been too short. The Bludger grazed her shoulder, knocking her off course, a dull pain spreading in waves from where it had hit her. Gripping at the handle of her broomstick, she had to let the Quaffle go. It was immediately retrieved by a Chaser in a blue robe.

Meanwhile, McNully was practically losing his mind up in the commentary box. “And she did it! Cassiopeia pulls the Bludger Back-Beat off like a true professional! Only 12,9 % of all Beaters are able to hit their target with this technique! Ladies and gentlemen, this girl truly is Ravenclaw’s Rising Star!”

Lizzie grunted in pain and tried to catch sight of the Chaser with the Quaffle through the curtains of sleet. She would need to have a word with McNully later on.

Listening to him almost gave the impression he wasn’t as partially impartial as he set himself up to be.

#art of balance #hphm #hogwarts mystery #orion x mc #orion amari #orion amari x mc #lizzie jameson #skye parkin #murphy mcnully #quidditch #quidditch squad #the quidditch squad #why is tumblr making blank lines disappear #I hate putting * in there they're meant to be for POV change only -.-

13 notes · View notes

valiantly-onward · 3 years

Text

The Serpentine War Ch. 6

Note: this chapter and the next chapter are some of those that include canon scenes

Chapter 6: Of Battles

Jamanakai Village was cold.

Red lanterns lined the streets. The low stone buildings were coated in icicles. Snow piled itself against walls, under trees, atop roofs. Ray figured they were totally safe because snakes liked heat and there was none of that here.

He batted one of the lanterns as he strode down the street. Lei was waiting on the outer wall, squinting against the bright sun on the snow.

“Switch,” he said as he approached.

Lei straightened. “Watch the south.”

“I got it.”

She walked back the way he’d come. Then Ray was alone.

It didn’t take him long to get bored. The cloud line was nearly impossible to see through from this mountaintop. What good would it do to keep watch? The enemy could be on them before they had the chance to throw a snowball.

Ray’s finger tapped against the katana hilt at his side. After a moment, he pulled it from the sheath. Sunlight gleamed on the blade. He could see the swirls where the steel was folded in forging, a blacksmith technique he hadn’t yet mastered.

Ray raised the katana with both hands and started on the forms. He lost himself in it. The weight of the sword brought back memories of his childhood, of testing out brand new swords when his father wasn’t looking. Back then, there was no skill, no footwork to carry him, just imaginary pirates and evil ninjas.

The blade slashed low, gashing the snow. Ray lifted it high, then brought it down quickly again as he remembered Maya’s warning to watch his chest. Breathe in. A great sigh escaped his chest as he jabbed forward with one hand.

Finally, he brought the katana to rest before him. He realized then that a few village kids were leaning through the wall entrance, watching him.

“Like the show?” Ray called.

They looked at each other, then stepped out. The first boy looked guilty, but the others followed the sword with their eyes.

“Can I see it?” one of them asked.

Ray raised the hilt in response. Excitedly, the boy scrambled over the rocks. Ray handed over the katana. The boy’s eyes grew wide. “It’s heavy!”

“Kind of,” Ray replied. “You should try a scythe.”

The boy pushed the point into the snow once or twice, then handed it back as if he were afraid to try his luck. Ray let the other boys mess around with the katana for a moment. When they gave it back, he sheathed it and met their smiles with one of his own.

Their smiles suddenly vanished.

Something slammed into the back of Ray’s head.

~~~

Screams.

Ray forced his eyes open amidst the pounding of his head. His blurry vision made out lantern glows and figures rushing past him.

Screaming. There were people screaming.

His boots slid in the snow as he pushed himself to his feet. He didn’t remember unsheathing his sword but it was in his hands as he rushed past the village walls.

Serpentine.

It was mayhem. The snakes were everywhere. Towering black creatures, sickly green warriors, red-scaled soldiers. Some had tails, some had taloned feet - Ray didn’t know the distinction. All were moving on the villagers.

Cursing himself, Ray launched forward. He slashed the back of a Serpentine, this one blue with white markings, and watched it fall. He moved farther in, as quick as any training or skill could carry him. Time was not on his side; once they realized who he was, he would be a target.

Find Maya. Find Lei. If they were going to win this, they needed to stand together.

One of the green snakes rushed Ray, a flared fan around its head. Its blade snicked his armored sleeve. He knocked the sword away, then rammed his elbow into the Serpentine’s snout. His reward was an explosion of pain up his arm.

But it still seemed to do the trick with that snake. It stumbled back, its slitted eyes rolling.

“Ray.”

Ray jumped, sword raised. It was Lei, materializing out of thin air. Wait, no - out of the shadows, the ones cast between the alley behind him.

“That’s cool,” he declared.

Lei smiled. “Let’s destroy these guys, shall we?”

The roof tile clinked above them. Maya snapped her Nin-Jo to her side and glared down at him from the rooftop. “You were supposed to be watching!”

Ray gripped his katana, turning in a full circle to face the oncoming Serpentine. “How was I supposed to know they were coming?”

“That’s why you were supposed to be watching!”

Ray, angry that he had no good answer, took out his frustration on an approaching snake. He didn’t know what kind this one was, but if a snake could be a hulking brute, this was it. Taller than him, black as night, scaly arms bulging with muscles. It thrust its spear at him, but Ray ducked under the strike and jabbed the creature’s belly with his katana. The Serpentine hissed in pain.

Ray grinned triumphantly, but as he tugged on the sword, it resisted. He didn’t get the chance to try again - the Serpentine raised the spear above its head, eyes wide with pain.

Ray instinctively raised his hands, but there was no need. Maya dropped from the roof, landing right on the Serpentine’s tale. With one well-placed jab, her Nin-Jo sent the creature falling forward on Ray’s sword.

Before it could get up, Maya tugged Ray away. They raced up the street to the town’s main square. No Serpentine had made it this far yet.

Maya wheeled on him. It seemed all her lack of emotion the past few months was emerging now. “You should’ve been more careful.”

“Next time I will be!”

“Knock it off, you two.” This was Lei, stepping out of the shadow of the nearest building. One of her dark braids had pulled loose, but she seemed unhurt. She squinted up against the sun.

“What is it?” Ray asked. He unbuckled his sheath and threw it off. He couldn’t believe he left his katana back there.

“I’m thinking we need to get to higher ground.” Lei gestured to them. “C’mon.”

She led them around the back of the building. She grabbed the icy ledge of the roof and pulled herself up. Maya and Ray - feeling bare without his katana - followed.

The situation didn’t look any better from up top. The village’s meager resistance appeared to have fallen in shambles as soon as the Serpentine arrived. Truly, the three of them were the only hope left.

Ray glanced at Lei, feeling incredulous at the hopelessness of the situation, but she was scanning the fear-stricken streets with determination. Was this how she’d been fighting these last few months? Always outnumbered, against such powerful warriors?

“Aren’t we supposed to have village defenders?” Ray asked her.

“They’re coordinating,” Lei answered. “Not well.”

Maya abruptly grabbed him. The wind snatched her black hair for a moment, pulling it like a comet tail behind her. “We need to use our Elemental powers.”

Ray made a sound of protest. “Like a week ago, you were struggling to move buckets. How in the name of the First Spinjitzu Master -”

“We can do this.” Her fingers dug into his arm. “Look, I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier, but I mean it. True potential or not.”

Ray looked down at his red robes. He’d started wearing them, trying to get a feel for this whole Master of Fire thing. But it hadn’t worked. He didn’t feel any different, any warmer.

Maya wasn’t waiting for an answer. She stepped to the edge of the roof and raised her hands. Her brow creased. Then, all at once, the water gutters streaming through the courtyard became rivers of water in the air. Maya turned them, and several Serpentine got a faceful of gutter water. Below them, the villagers took the opportunity to run.

Maya opened her eyes. She elbowed his shoulder without looking at him. “Your turn.”

Ray looked at Lei, who made a “stay put” gesture to them, and jumped back down into the shadows.

So much for her help. Ray grumbled. Do it without thinking. How could he do it without thinking?

Then Ray saw him. One of the boys he let use his katana. A red Serpentine had him by the hair, dragging him away.

Ray didn’t need to think. He raised one hand. Across the square, the Serpentine’s spear burst into flames. Yelping, it dropped it, and the kid wrenched himself away. He was gone in an instant.

Maya was laughing. Ray realized right then he’d never heard her laugh before. Part of him decided it was the only sound worth hearing.

“That’s it!” she shouted. She lifted her arms wide. “Remember what Master Wu said. Feel it! Let it flow!”

For the first time, Ray understood. He chased that feeling, the warmth filling his chest and fleeing down his arms. Something he’d never known before, a sense of rightness, his whole body screaming yes yes yes FINALLY.

Flames burst to life in his palms. Ice melted away from the heat, and Maya gathered the puddles, swirling them before her like a mini-hurricane.

Lei climbed up onto the roof again. And the battle truly began.

Below, two green Serpentine were corralling some villagers. They looked up at the sound of Ray’s growing fire. Ray let loose a small wave, let it crash into one of the warriors. Lei leapt down from the roof and disappeared into a puddle of shadow, like she was falling under the stone itself. Her shadow flew straight and stopped underneath a red Serpentine, who held a torch to one of the buildings in the square. The poor guy’s feet were pulled out from beneath him, and Lei appeared in body again, standing over him.

There was a tiered fountain at the edge of the square, built right into the side of the mountain. Ray’s gaze caught on it. “Maya!” he called.

She followed his line of sight. Expression determined, she clapped her hands together, as if calling the water to attention. Then she threw them forward with a shout. It was in her shout, the ferocity Wu had spoken of. It was in the water too, as it erupted from the fountain. A wave rolled over the square. Many of the warriors saw it coming and ran - after all, there was no standing in the face of a tsunami.

The water overtook some of the black Serpentine, pulling them under. The fires, both Ray’s and those made by the snakes, were doused in every quarter. Ray and Maya leapt down from the roof in sync, following Lei. Ray scooped up an abandoned Serpentine shield and tossed it to Maya, who used it to bash the face of a rising Serpentine. Ray punched another green guy, ignoring the pain. One hand still in the shield, Maya started to shift the water to the next street -

There was no next street.

Not a street. A writhing mass of purple scales and serrated blades, forged of no metal Ray knew of. Bearing them were devils.

Ray could immediately tell these were different from the other Serpentine. They were larger, wore armor, and slithered uniformly forward, like a real army. Red-slitted eyes trained directly on Ray, trying to convince him he was dead already.

Lei sprang into existence in front of Ray. She didn’t have to say it, but she did.

“The Anacondrai. They’re here.”

@greenygreenland

#I had to write the words Maya and Ray in this chapter and it made me very uncomfortable #it's like writing Ferb and Phineas #and no one has explained the serpentine to the poor boy yet so that's why ray is calling them by colors #ninjago #ninjago fic #the serpentine war #spellbound

8 notes · View notes