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alicee1 · 3 years

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Finally back

Revived! Wilbur x Reader

Warnings: talk of death, grieving, character death (Wilbur), reunion

Word count: 1.7K

Synopsis: After Wilbur got revived by Dream he first rushes off to find you, right in the place where you had spent the night before L’manburg got blown up together with you. Angst followed by fluff/comfort

Request:

what if revived wilbur returning to a (he/him or they/them) reader and the reader who was with wilbur the night before l'manberg went boom being like super over emotional and stuff because they hadnt seen their lover in a while and just good ole comfort coming out of the reunion :0 (please the wilbur revival has had me craving wilbur content </3)

A/n: Not gonna lie, this was really hard to write at first cause of the pure angst, but i figured out a way! I really hope you enjoy it and it was really fun to write actually. Thank you for requesting!

Rules, Masterlist

"I'll come back to you."

Maybe you had been a fool to believe his words. Both you and him knew the chance was small that he would come back unscathed yet in that moment, those promising words that left his mouth were all that mattered.

The night before the bombing of L'manburg you had spent together with Wilbur. It had been calm and comfortable, spending the night in each other's arms and reminiscencing past memories. Neither of you had spoken a word of what would happen the next day.

He had built a small cabin in the woods where he stayed with you, his little escape from the outside world and all the problems that came with it.

For a while you had seen Wilbur start to slip, his sanity slowly seeping away under the pressure and responsibilities he carried.

He didn't speak to you often about L'manburg and Pogtopia, wanting to keep you seperated from his work and worries.

You had been his escape.

No matter what had happened outside the walls of your small comfortable cabin, it was as if a switch was flicked as soon as he stepped inside.

Even if it was just for a moment, he could leave all his worries and problems behind and seek comfort in your arms.

You were his cliff against the stormy sea that were his thoughts and problems, an unrelenting barrier he could escape to.

But as the day crept nearer he had explained to you what his plan was, sitting down with you as he explained what could happen.

You had known where he was when you awoke to an empty bed that morning. His warmth lingered in the blankets and his scent in the air. Leaving behind his promise to return to you from the night before.

His words were believable, you truly believed he would return to you. For the past days he had made up his mind, through cracks you thought you could see glimpses of the Wilbur you had once known.

Nothing could have prepared you for the news that Phil brought with him.

It felt as if you were torn apart piece by piece before getting out back together, yet his death left a gaping hole behind.

You had etched his name into the large builder that laid in your back garden, without a body to bury it was the most you could do as memorial.

Desperately you had clung onto the traces that he had left behind in your cabin. The pack of cigarettes left on the table, his spare beanie that hung discarded on a chair. A small pile of crumpled up papers discarded as he attempted to write letters to his father.

He never send the majority of them. After everything had gone south and he had retreated to the woods and Pogtopia it just seemed like he couldnt keep up the lies anymore.

You never touched anything he held left behind, afraid it would get rid of his last traces in the cabin. The objects were cleaned often but other than that remained untouched.

It was a few months until a see through apparition had found its way to the small cabin. It was one of the first times you had left the comforting space after Wilbur's death only to be faced with someone, something, that looked so much like him.

It had made you curl up under the protective blankets of your bed as tears streamed down your face as you grieved.

Although it had taken a long time, you learned to move on. Despite that his last traces in the cabin stayed untouched, but you healed. Slowly, step by step, but it happened.

You returned to the way you lived before. Besides the crater in your heart that you weren't sure would ever heal, you picked up your activities one by one.

You started gathering wood again, hunting for meat and gardening in your back garden where you had started a small vegetable farm beside the memorial builder.

Each time you passed it you traced your hand over the stone, lingering for a few seconds as you remembered him before moving on with what you were doing. Although you would always make sure there was a small bouquet of fresh, hand picked, wild flower laid on the stone.

The apparition didn't appear again, making you believe you had imagined the entire ordeal in the first place.

The fireplace was lit again when you were at the cabin, the windows opened to let in fresh air. Due to the secluded nature of the woods you could easily leave the windows and doors open as you gathered for materials.

Wilbur hurried away from the crater where L'manburg once stood. He left Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo, who he had just met, behind there. Plans and ideas shot through his mind although he needed to figure something out first.

He reached the cabin in the woods, he didn't even have to think to remember the way, his body leading him down the path automatically despite it having been 13 years.

The small clearing was still exactly the same as he remembered, the cabin stood peacefully in the middle of it.

Wilbur could see a new vegetable garden beside it, surrounded my fences with lanterns attached to light it up in the dark.

The windows and doors stood open, making his entrance effortless as he entered.

The place still looked exactly the same, although he could see the small changes that had occured over time. But in general, it looked as if time had stopped flowing inside.

The pack of cigarettes laid unmoving on the bedside table that stood on his side of the bed. His spare beanie hung from the side of the clothing chair that stood in the same corner it had been in 13 years ago. The fireplace that always spread warmth and a soft golden glow when he returned to you was reduced to a smouldering pile of ashes, indicating you hadn't been gone for too long.

A small hand drawn map hung from the wall that hadn't been there before.

The only thing missing was you.

Today you had chosen to go fishing, something you had enjoyed doing before but a hobby you had left neglected for a long time.

The ripples in the water were calming as you breathed out, instantly you knew why you had always enjoyed it. There was something peaceful in watching the sun's reflexion in the small ripples the water created as the red and white striped ball floated gently along the stream.

You stayed by the river for most of the day, only returning at the end of the afternoon, satisfied with the catch of today.

As you returned home, you were caught of guard by the steady smoke that gently rose from the chimney. You could see it from a little distance away, making you question if you had checked that the fire had died before you left.

The sack you had stored the fish in hung from your hand as you gently opened the door with the other, the setting of the sun had allowed the fire to cast it's golden glow through the cabin.

That wasn't however what caught your attention. Instead the cloaked figure in the middle of the room did.

A dark cloak you could recognize between any other, paired with a beanie similar to the one you saw every day as it hung from, what had once been your shared, clothing chair. Underneath messy brown hair could be seen.

It was an appearance you could recognize in a heartbeat as tears gathered in your eyes, the sack slipping from your grasp as Wilbur turned around at the sound of the door opening.

He didn't say anything, just opened his arms invitingly as you stumbled forward, crashing into him and burying your head in his shoulder.

His hold on you was tight, he breathed in deeply through his nose, inhaling your scent as his arms squeezed harder around your form.

He had missed you so much. In those 13 years spent at the station, all he wanted was to see you one last time, to apologize for leaving you behind.

There had not been a single moment where he hadn’ t longed for your touch, for your presence, in comfort.

All that time he had thought he truly wanted to die, that this world wasn't for him. All that time you had been his deciding factor without even knowing.

But now that he had experienced it, was there and seen what it was like, he was sure of the truth, his truth.

Ha had a new lease on life and this time, he wouldn't throw it away. He had learned.

He melted into your touch as you leaned back, cupping his cheek and wiping away the stray tears he hadn't even realized that flew down his cheeks.

In your eyes he could still see the same love for him as he had seen that night. You still looked exactly like you then.

He pulled you closer, inhaling your scent as he realized he was holding you, the real, physical you, in his arms once more. You smelt like water, grass and the forest. It was a scent he would burn into his mind of he could.

You pulled him towards the bed gently, forgetting what you had been doing before entering the house and tackled him onto the bed in your hold.

His voice was rough as he spoke, pulling you closer against him as he mumbled against your skin. It may have taken him 13 years to do it, but he did it.

"I promised you I'd come back to you."

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liptonsbabe · 3 years

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Chains of a family [B.W]

Bill Weasley x Grant! Reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Summary: The reader has left the burrow trying to hide from Molly’s harsh comments. Bill’s mom doesn’t want his son near you cause she thinks you’ll hurt him judging you for your family reputation. Arthur thinks differenly so he’ll try to make amends between you two

Word count: 3.4 k. Too long I’M SORRY

Warnings: none

English not my mother language so pleeeeese tell me if something’s wrong

A/N: Hey! Another chapter for you’all. Thanks for keep reading this. The next part will be updated soon and yeah, hope you like it! If you want to be tagged just tell me and i’ll do so :D

Chapter 3: Expectations

It was bitterly cold outside the burrow, and you wondered if winter had come early. Your icy hands clenched your sides, refusing to go back inside even if your knuckles burned and your bare feet began to crack from the hardness of the grass on your soles.

You walked on the grass feeling the dew wetting your fingertips. On the other side of the garden the gnomes were burying one of Molly's ornaments with what, you guessed, the woman would be very angry when she found out, but no more than she already was. Molly's words were harsh. Even if her intention was not to make you feel bad, she had managed to put a huge weight on your stomach after the fight.

You didn't blame her, it was almost certain that Molly would react that way, however, you hoped that within her there was a bit of empathy for the situation you were experiencing with your family. It wasn’t easy for anyone to go through a war that could have been avoided in one way or another, however, for the Grants it was an even more difficult challenge knowing that the trigger for such a war was grandpa Tim Grant's half brother.

You walked around the house, crossing the barnyard, watching the chickens peck at a rubber boot on a very rusty cauldron. The cornfield grasses moved with the wind at the same rate. From right to left, right to left, right to left and then they changed the rhythm from left to right, left to right, left to right ...

The barn was just behind the thick grass rising into an old stone sty, which had several crooked stories attached to it. Four or five chimneys dotted the roof of the cellar, and most likely the entire building was held up by magic due to its crazy bolt-on construction. You took a look back at the main entrance of the house where you could hear the voices of Bill's brothers next to Molly's, deciding to get away from the Weasleys before starting a new fight.

You crossed the cornfield finding a pond full of frogs that you dodged with a little scream and a ballerina jump. Then you came across an old broom shed that was half stowed and a pervasive smell. You headed there, thinking of helping out with the cleaning and wasting some time in the process until William came home from the ministry in the early afternoon.

The brooms were on top of each other in a corner of the shed where the garden gnomes used them to play with each other. One of the gnomes had gotten a match with which he had managed to light a couple of strands of the broom of one of the twins -You knew it because each of the brooms had the initials of Molly's children painted on the base. That one had a huge G in the center - which soon expanded into the rest of the broom's dark fibers. You immediately turned it off earning yourself a tiny kick from the gnome.

The smoke from the fire mixed with dust, and the foul smell of expired wax made your eyes water . You wondered vaguely when was the last time that place had been cleaned up, however, the density of the raised dust and the rottenness of the broom wax on the floor told you about the nonexistence maintenance of the shed. The orchard was contained within a paddock, so you assumed there would be no problem cleaning it up later.

You collected each thing by hand placing them where you thought they should go. You finished cleaning the shed earlier than expected, securing the door when exiting to prevent the gnomes from entering and destroying everything again.

You continued your way in a straight line until you reached the barn where a thick layer of dust hid the doorknob. You opened the warehouse with your wand finding the worst scenario ever imagined. The walls were hidden in ghastly cobwebs, the shelves were clothed in huge mountains of dust, and Muggle stuff were strewn everywhere. Mr. Weasley's old Ford Anglia was on the left side of the barn, storing certain flying objects that you couldn't recognize from the cloud of dust that rose and entered to your eyes.

Well, that seemed like an even bigger challenge than the shed on the other side of the garden. You started by washing the car using your wand to launch several aguamentis causing a waterfall of mud falling from the roof to the fender. Then the car doors flapped open like a pair of wings, letting out the flying objects. You raised your wand by closing the barn door blockig them the exit and initiating a chase that lasted a couple of hours to catch each object, throw it inside the Ford Anglia and finish polishing the hood before the flying, spoiled car got upset.

You forgot the last time you helped your household servants clean a simple fireplace ornament. Years before, when you were little and your brothers liked to spend time together, you helped the butler to clean some objects in the house because it was more fun when you formed competitions between you, Anthon and Margaret to know which of you cleaned the house ¿faster . You had fun and old Alfred got less tired. But that was a long time ago and in the present you didn’t remember what was the proper order of cleaning.

You were lugging box after box for several hours getting a terrible allergy in the process. The last box was made of recyclable paper where you put Mr. Weasley's old newspapers and Molly's worn recipes. You carried them to the fourth shelf from the right, previously cleaned, raising it with both hands. A speck of dust flew across the room, stopping on your nose causing you to sneeze so hard you fell backwards with the box on your face. The papers flew around the corners causing a disaster worse than the initial one.

“Shit”

You stayed lying on the floor taking the box off your face staring at the ceiling. Undoubtedly that would be a difficult life without anyone to help you doing the things more than yourself, however you were willing to try ‘cause you didn’t want to return home where things were simple but with a high cost. You weren't sure you wanted to trade your freedom for a few extra comforts. You let out a sigh ready to stand up when a singular sheet of a recent newspaper flew towards you, stopping on your chest. You caught a glimpse of a fairly familiar photograph in the ink, so you took the paper and read:

"Dark Mark sparks panic." Muggle family murdered. Death Eaters numbers grow” Your hands trembled over the paper, caressing each of the words, reading them over and over again. The weight on your stomach grew and grew, as if it were suddenly going to explode. A huge picture of uncle Tom stood in the middle, with that toothless grin and throbbing nostrils “Merlin’s beard”

Your fingers tingled, and you couldn't help but run your touch over your uncle's face trying to think how he got to that point. Grandpa Tim never talked so much about his half brother and you never had the courage to ask him even if the curiosity was eating your insides. There were few times where Tom Riddle's presence was in the family conversations and if that happened, then your father changed the topic from one second to another. It was annoying living in the shadows, but it was even more to be tied to a cause that no one sympathized with, not even his own brother. But Tim Grant was reserved, perhaps too reserved. Maybe that was the reason why he allowed the actions of his little brother to escalate to those levels and allowed too that his only son had choose the wrong side. However, you didn’t understand - or support - Voldemort's ambitions, neither did your grandpa and that cost you to be rejected by the rest of your family.

Your eyes watered and you didn't know if it was because of guilt or if the damn dirt had entered your eyelids. You looked at the ceiling in the haze. You searched your mind and realized that the situation affected you too much. You weren't welcome with the Weasleys, nor with the Grants. You felt desolate, as if the barn walls were closing in on you.

Molly's reaction was valid, you repeated yourself as many times as you could, because anyone who had lost a large part of it’s family to a member of another's would have done the same thing or something so much worse. You shook your head, once again feeling the rejection you were used to.

The barn door opened suddenly, letting in a gust of wind hitting your body directly on the ground. Your skin prickled from the cold causing the newcomer to laugh.

You looked up to find yourself face to face with the distorted figure of Arthur Weasley who was holding a couple of drinks along with a weird smile that made you laugh. The man sat on the floor next to you leaving the glass next to your face.

"I'm sorry I scared you. it’s freezing cold out there and in my defense, nobody comes to this place”

“It’s okay, I wasn't expecting visitors”

"Fine, then" Arthur took a sip of his drink licking his chapped lips, but still showing you that smile so much like Bill's. You folded the newspaper on your lap, nervous. "So ... what are you doing lying in my barn?"

"I ... I was trying to clean this place up”

"Is that so? ‘cuz It seemed like you were about to take a nap."

“Yeah, i had a little mishap here”

"I see, do you want to get up?"

"Yes, thank you." Arthur held out his hand, slowly pulling you up to leave you sitting in front of him. He offered you the drink and you clinked glasses before drinking. It was hot chocolate, you guessed, made by Molly. Your stomach churned.

Mr. Weasley glanced around the barn, surprised to see more than half perfectly arranged

“This place hasn't been so clean since Bill was born”

“Sorry?

"No, no, it's okay," he mentioned, waving to play it off, "Molly had been asking me for a long time to do it, so I think you just made my job easier."

"It's nothing, Mr. Weasley

"Did you see something you liked?"

"Uh, yeah," you answered wiping your lips. "Ignoring the fact that your car almost killed me, I noticed that you have a lot of muggle stuff."

“Ah, yes. They are fascinating, don't you think?”

"Certainly, but I also realized that most of them are useless, why do you still have them here?"

"I like to collect them," he replied, taking another sip of his drink. You mimicked his action “to be honest, I don't even have a clue how these things works, but I suppose I'll find out in time. Muggle devices are not as advanced as ours, much less functional, however, I find them entertaining and special somehow, did you know that they use a subway to transport themselves underground? And they must leave coins in a machine so that they give them a little ticket. A ticket! The first time I used one I was deadly excited!

You smiled, imagining how it would to see Mr. Weasley that happy

"I could help you understand how they work." You winced when Arthur looked at you with wide eyes. "My ... my grandfather lived with Muggles for a while and knows a lot about this artifacts. Several times he spoke of his usefulness to my brothers and me”

“Fantastic!” He replied cheerfully. You smiled “It's wonderful (Y/N), thank you”

“No problem”

Then a silence settled between you, being cut off only by the babble of the gnomes outside the barn kicking the timbers trying to get inside. Arthur cleared his throat as he ran his little blue eyes over each of the walls of his newly renovated barn. He smiled again placing one of his hands on your shoulder

"I found out what happened with Molly in the morning," he mentioned. You nodded “My children told me what you said to each other and ...”

"I'm sorry I spoke badly to your wife, Mr. Weasley" you interrupted, sipping your glass all at once, leaving it on the floor. "I know after this I'll have to talk to William and find another place to stay."

“She is not like that. She rarely has such behavior with the people and I can only think that my Molly has a lot of mixed feelings. The war has us all nervous and the fact that the memories of the past have arisen again ... they make her have reactions that are not very usual in Molly.”

"I'm not blaming her. I think she's right”

“Why?”

"What I did to my family ... running away, betray them..." You started playing with your fingers on your lap, embarrassed. "It's not something a trustworthy person would do."

“What are you talking about?”

“For the Grants, it’s very important to support the family in their endeavors without stopping to think if that could be harmful to the others. With uncle Tom becoming the most dangerous dark wizard of all times ... people would think that his relatives would follow his steps and they did “Mr. Weasley listened attentively, ignoring the screams of his wife announcing that the food was ready “At least most of them. Now all of us are tied to the He-who-must-not-be-named, whether we want it or not. It ruined our lives and I couldn't stay in that place forever

"Why aren't you on his side?"

"Because I can't see my brothers make a wrong decision" You crumpled the newspaper with your hands looking at how the pic of Lord Voldemort turned into a streaked stain "I have my own convictions, even if you don’t believe so”

"I don't believe anything of you, (Y/N)" Arthur's voice turned stoic as he stared at you harshly. "Neither the good nor the bad. I am a believer that you should judge someone by what demonstrates, not by what it’s said about them. Right now you aren’t showing me anything but that there is something in your family that you don’t like and that the dirt in my barn is intolerable to you”

You smiled

"We're all here waiting to see what are you capable of. Good or bad, you get to decide who (Y/N) Grant is from now on. Starting over. Forget that the Grants' actions make you worthy of the consequences”

Warmth attacked your chest. It was comforting to feel for the first time the acceptance of someone who wasn't doing it out of mere compassion or that it was Bill. That Arthur gave you the benefit of the doubt encouraged you to continue as before: trying, trying, trying.

"I think his wife doesn't think the same."

Arthur Weasley patted your shoulder.

"I'll talk to her, she'll understand. Meanwhile let's go home, it's time for lunch”

"Did Bill come back?"

"Yes, my son and I came back from the ministry a while ago.He wanted to find you, but I asked him to let me do it. You know, because sometimes it's good to have the daughters-in-law on your side”

Your cheeks heated up and then the rest of your face turned completely red. Arthur studied your reaction, smiling as he realized you were just a kid looking for approval. He patted your shoulder again, inviting you to leave the rest of the mess and accompany him to the burrow.

"These aren’t a good times to trust the Daily Prophet," Arthur mentioned, noticing the crumpled newspaper in your hands. You skipped the pond and skirted the cornfield until you reached the garden entrance where Bill's brothers and Bill himself had set up a long table near Molly's apple tree where they planned to spend the afternoon. One of the twins raised his wand putting the cuterly across the table, one set for each of the family members. You wondered if there would be a place for you at the table “Honestly, these are not good times to trust anything or anyone, so if you accept my advice, don't worry too much about reading the newspapers, they will leave you more questions than answers, Hey, you will break that!

Arthur scolded his twins when they fiddled with forks in a battle to find out which of them would wash the dishes after eating. Arthur ran towards them while Bill approached you greeting you with a kiss on the cheek. He frowned, watching you closely and then removed his coat, draping it over your shoulders.

"What the hell were you doing outside without a sweater?" It's freezing!”

"You worry way too much," you told him, pressing the faux fur against your shivering body. The truth was that, after the exchange of words with Bill's mother, you didn’t have the time to get a sweater before leaving and of course your wounded pride wouldn’t let you get dressed again before going to hide in the barn. Bill clicked his tongue rubbing your arms. "I'm fine, I just lost track of the time cleaning your father's barn and I didn't feel the cold until now”

"You're bad at lying, did you know that?"

"You should stop asking so many questions." You smiled at the grimace on the older Weasley's face. "Nothing happened."

"That's not what the twins told me," he suddenly mentioned. You felt the tension in Bill's body when Molly passed by him giving you a dangerous look, however you decided to ignore it for the good of both of you “ What my mom said ...”

"It’s okay, it doesn't matter I discussed it with your father and we worked it out”

“Are you sure?” You nodded “I hope so. Not because she’s my mother I will let her offend you in any way”

Your smile widened. You couldn't possibly love that man more than you already did. You approached his body, throwing your arms around Bill's neck, having to stand on your tiptoes to reach only to kiss his chin. He lowered his head, managing to bring his lips together.

“Help your brothers set the table, I'll go take a bath”

"Don't you prefer i help you instead?" You laughed

"I can do it by myself, thanks”

"Hmm ... you sure?”

"William ...”

"Okay, okay, okay," he urged you leaving a couple of kisses on the corner of your lips. "Don't be gone too long. i’ll miss you, love."

“I will not. Wait for me just here, yeah?”

You went upstairs to the room you shared with Bill and jumped into the shower enjoying the warmth of the water above your head. You leaned against the tiles thinking that your first day in the burrow had turned out very bad, but better than you had thought. Even if Molly didn't believe your words, you would do your best to fullfil the expectations of the others members of the Order. You would be loyal to them, to the Aurors, and you would fight whoever you had to to prove that your actions were worth more than the rumors surrounding the Grants did.

You were going to prove how wrong they were with you and, incidentally, you would forge a reputation of your own, one of which you would proud of

Tag:

@purple-vodka-99

#bill weasley #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley x reader #domhnall gleeson #domhnall gleeson imagine #harry potter imagine #harry potter cast #harry potter x reader #domhnall gleeson x reader

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quillandink333 · 3 years

Text

Scarlet Carnations ~ Part VI

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Detective AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.4k

WARNINGS: death, murder, loss, trauma, blood and gore, terrorism, organized crime, self-harm

Summary: Inspector Zelda Hyrule, assisted by the faithful Constable Link Fyori, is infamous for cracking the most confounding of cases in a town dominated by crime. Her latest assignment is to solve the murder of her own godmother, Impa Sheikah, the late CEO of Sheikah Tech. Incorporated, while staying under the radar of the dreaded Yiga organization.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII • Epilogue • Masterlist

By the time I was finally let into the crime scene the day after making my little forensic discovery, the sun had already come down to kiss the horizon. It had taken a great deal of stubborn persistence, but in the end, I had managed to convince the chief detective to grant me access by proving the effectiveness of my method.

As for the name of this method, I had decided to dub the chemical “luminol” due to its distinguishing chemiluminescence, as well as for the sake of succinctness.

Though the chief himself had taken to this well enough, there was yet another hurdle that I’d had to overcome. The estate’s residents. That process had been a bit more difficult, and delicate. At first, my adoptive family were, naturally, apprehensive to let me do as I wished. But when I gave them my solemn apologies and told them that this might allow me to make up for all I had done to hurt them, their trust in me seemed to have been somewhat restored. And I had no intention of letting them down again.

I had to admit, though, that being here on my own was more than a little bit strange. I’d done each one of my investigations side-by-side with my partner ever since I’d freed him from the psych ward and gotten him in with the force a year ago. Every time he wasn’t there to lend me his insights or hold onto something for me or put a hand on my shoulder if ever I got myself overly worked up was like the pang of being slapped across the face. But each of those times, I would straighten up and remind myself, “I’m doing this for him.”

According to Link, he’d found the key near the foot of the fireplace. And so that would be the first place I’d search.

But before I could begin, the parlour was bathed in harsh, orange light.

The officer charged with supervising me had his finger on the light switch. “Ah, actually, could you keep those off for me?” The man gave me an estranged look, but granted my request all the same. “Oh, and close the blinds for me while you’re at it, will you? Ta!”

Now that the room was dim, I’d more effectively simulated the conditions of my apartment that night.

With no further ado, I made my way toward the mantel. Its polished, stone surface couldn’t possibly have the ability to conceal any amount of blood, one might have thought. In which case, one would have been wrong. And my new formula was going to prove just that.

All it took were a couple of spritzes to cover the entire width of the mantelpiece. I waited. Then after a few seconds, the luminol set in, and I had my results.

On either end of the shelf, there was a statuette. These frog-like figures stood guard here as guardian deities to the Sheikah family, or so I’d been told as a seven-year-old. But now, the truth would be revealed to me that what they protected was not the family but a secret. And on the night of the murder, evidently, they’d failed to do even that much.

On the right-hand figurine’s forehead, there had appeared an array of fluorescent blue spots. They were shaped and positioned like fingerprints—a thumb, index, and middle, gripping the creature by its painted skull—but unlike fingerprints, they were completely filled in. I recalled dusting these statuettes for prints on the second or third day of official inspections, and I’d found nothing. The person who these bloody prints belonged to must have been wearing gloves at the time. The same method they’d used to leave no prints on Link’s revolver.

With caution, I aligned my fingers with the prints and gave the figurine an experimental wiggle. To my surprise, it wasn’t fixed to the mantel as I’d thought, but rather hinged to it. It tilted back, and underneath its feet, a small, round keyhole glowed orange in wait.

This was it. I took the unassumingly sized key from my pocket and dropped it into the hole, whereupon both key and keyhole went from orange to brilliant sky blue. A perfect fit.

I couldn’t believe my eyes with what occurred next.

When the key fell in place, the mantel itself split down the middle. Then the two halves began to shift independently away from one and other. As this was happening, the inner wall of the chimney had broken apart into individual rows of stone brick, which then swung backward into the wall.

The two halves of the mantelpiece, having scraped along all the way to either end of the fireplace, collapsed and folded down against its outer legs with a decisive klock. All of this had transpired in the span of just ten seconds.

Behind what had once existed in my mind as a solid, stone-brick wall, there was now a small, cylindrical hollow, just big enough for one or two people to stand inside. The floor of the hollow, beyond the hearth, bore the symbol of the Sheikahs and glowed with the same blue hue that had the key upon being returned to its home. I looked down and noticed the key in question on the floor, having fallen out when its side of the mantel had lain itself vertically.

When the mechanisms in the mantelpiece began stirring to life again, I realized I was on a time limit. With haste, I retrieved the key, placed it in one of my coat pockets, and entered the tiny room.

For several moments, nothing happened, save for the wall of the fireplace closing back up behind me. During these moments, I wondered, what purpose could this room possibly serve? There were no shelves or drawers or racks that one could use to hang one’s clothes on, and it was far too small to be used as storage.

Then all of a sudden, the floor began to lower, all by itself.

The farther and farther I descended into the depths of the unknown, the harder my heart pounded. Just how deep did this elevator go?

And for that matter, how in the world was it even going? The ceiling above me remained where it was, so pulleys were out of the question—and there were no gears or anything moving the floor downwards, from what I could tell.

My confusion turned to shock when the platform I was on defied gravity itself as it entered the chamber that seemed to be its destination.

“What in the blazes...?” I breathed aloud. I had half a mind to suspect that what I’d just witnessed was the result of paranormal influences. Of course, the Sheikah crest beneath my feet told me there had to be a scientific explanation as to how these endless technological mysteries operated. Auntie Purah was sure to know. Though, come to think of it, had she even been aware of the existence of this secret passage?

I now found myself at the start of some kind of corridor. The sound of my heels touching the floor as I stepped down from the levitating platform echoed in the darkness. The only sources of light came from the pulsing, blue runes lining the baseboards of the cold, polished walls, the similarly pulsing Sheikah insignia adorning the archway that marked the start of the hallway ahead, and the mounted sconces that, rather than fire, contained lightbulbs of the same blue that emitted no heat.

As enthrallingly curious as all this was, none of it was relevant. Right now, I was retracing what were likely the steps of the true killer. All I had was to keep moving forward.

But doing so was going to be far easier said than done. Not only was this place exceedingly dark, so much so that I could only just make out the edges of each wall, but it seemed to go on forever. The twists, turns, ups, and downs were so frequent that after five minutes, I hadn’t the slightest idea which way I was facing. The one bright side to it all was that there was only ever a single path forward to choose from.

But to make things worse, there were traps set up along the complete length of the labyrinth. Things like cameras, pressure plates, and even lasers, all of which were inventions that I and the general public were already familiar with, unlike that impossible “elevator” that I had discovered. One thing was for certain: whoever had carried the corpse of their victim through here had to have known their way around this place. For I was barely even able to get by without unwittingly tripping the alarm.

By the time I was finally nearing the end of my journey, and thoroughly drenched in an anxious sweat, I spotted something lying on the ground where a few stray rays of moonlight were seeping in from the outside.

Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a letter of sorts. It wasn’t until I examined the back of the envelope that I realized this wasn’t just any letter. It was addressed to none other than Impa Sheikah, and it bore no return address. Not only that, but it was stained with splotches of what appeared to be blood.

The sheets of parchment inside were old and yellowing, and the envelope had what looked to be the remnants of a broken wax seal on the flap. The letter itself was handwritten in the same elegant cursive in which the address had been written, with some kind of nib pen and ink. Aside from murder, whoever had sent this must have had a deep affinity for the old-fashioned.

“My dear friend,” it began.

“It is with great sadness in my heart that I am writing to you. The last time we spoke was far too long ago, but even so, I am afraid this will be one of the last times you shall ever hear from me. You see, I have held off on this for as long as possible, but you have forced my hand. I can no longer allow you to meddle in my affairs as you have been.

“I am certain that you are aware of this by now, but I have been keeping watch over you from the ashes of the afterlife for a number of years. I must say, you have done a fine job of raising my darling Zelda in my stead. She has grown into a fine, young lady thanks to your efforts. Though I admit, I do wonder if she has what it takes to ‘solve the mystery’ of which she has been so steadfast in her pursuit ever since my unfortunate, yet necessary, departure.

“The night grows late, and I find myself carrying on. This letter has strayed far from its original purpose. Allow me to get straight to the heart of the matter. Meet me in the secret garden on the twenty-first before daybreak. Surely I need not tell you what would happen if you were to decline this simple request of mine. You were once my nearest and dearest friend, after all, and to allow malice to fester between friends such as we would be a tragedy, to say the least.

“Please deliver my deepest and most heartfelt affections to the rest of the family.

“Yours faithfully, Hilda”

By the time my eyes had dragged themselves along the sweeping lines of the signature, by hands had started to shake so severely that I nearly couldn’t read what was written there. In fact, not just my hands, but my entire being was trembling out of control. I fell to my knees, the sheets of paper scattering in every direction.

Now I knew the reason why this writing had seemed so familiar. I’d used the very same to confirm the nonexistence of the tooth fairy at age five by writing “her” a note and analyzing “her” reply the next day.

My mother was alive. Not only that, but...

I rose to my feet so quickly, my head started pounding. But I paid no heed to it. All I could think in that moment was how impossible it was.

At the end of this long hallway, there was a small set of stairs leading up to a trapdoor, carved from the same stone-like material that made up the walls of the labyrinth. It was incredibly heavy, but it wasn’t locked. With a bit of effort, I managed to heave it open.

The scene into which I would then emerge would change my life forever.

I found myself in the middle of a section of the estate’s gardens that I had never seen before. Behind me was the garden wall that I was familiar with, but rather than the rest of it being properly walled off, it was lined with dwarf evergreens. Beyond those, however, the thicket of the woods seemed all but impassable.

At the centre of it all, there was a place where the flowers were trampled and wilting. From afar, these flowers appeared a deep red hue. But up close, they were white. Something else had turned them red.

Then it dawned on me—these were carnations. I looked around. The secret garden was fit to burst with carnations.

“I observe the world as I hide in a cage. In my youth, I am weak, but I gain strength with age. I both give life and take it away. When one tries to pluck me, I make them my prey. What am I?”

“A carnation.”

It was all flooding back to me. My mother’s fondness for the species, how she had been born on the streets, the great fire that had devoured City Hall, the uprising of the Yiga...

Everything I had been led to believe was a lie.

The head of the organization was my mother. And Auntie Impa had known it all along.

When I looked up toward the starless sky, it felt as though I were plummeting head first into its insatiable, black abyss. My lungs seized up, and I couldn’t breathe. My very soul, being pulled in two opposite directions, was doomed to be torn apart.

Then the clouds parted, and behind a veil of shadow, the full moon was revealed.

The phantom of a hand belonging to the boy I called Link came to rest upon my shoulder. It was soft and nostalgic, in tandem with the frail light of the moon. I felt my chest brimming over with a courage most profound. At that moment, I harboured not even a wisp of fear for whatever it was that lay ahead of me.

#my writing #fanfic #botw #zelink #botw zelink #zelink botw #link x zelda #zelda x link #botw link x zelda #botw zelda x link #zelink fanfic #zelink fic #zelink ff #zelda pov #detective au

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years

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Arkag (Orc) MLM

Rating: Mature Relationship: Male Human/Male Orc Additional Tags: Exophilia, Male Reader, Reader Insert, Orc Boyfriend, MLM Content Warnings: Missing Limb, PSTD, Flashbacks Words: 3415

Another commission for @severedreamerbeard! A young man encounters a mysterious, secretive orc who lives on the outskirts of his village. During a sudden storm, the orc has a violent flashback to the day he lost his arm, and the reader helps him cope. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

There was a bit of a legend in your town about the woodcutter that lived outside the village borders. He’d lived there since before you moved to the village and he was an orc, that much you knew, but there was precious little else anyone could tell you that wasn’t speculation or rumors.

Some said he was a war criminal who’d committed heinous crimes and was cast out of his stronghold. Some said he was being hunted for desertion by his clan. Some said he was a smuggler who was using his work in the village as a front. A few folks wanted to run him out of town for fear that he’d bring the wrath of whatever he was escaping from down on townspeople’s heads, though he was so large that few people seemed to be willing to follow through. Besides, he didn’t technically live in town, so it wasn’t as if he was really bothering anyone.

All you knew was that he supplied the town with firewood, which he would drop off on every person’s doorsteps in the dead of night when most people were sleeping. He had a dislike for people or being seen, so he did most of his work when it was dark and he could be alone.

The most unusual thing about him was something you’d seen with your own eyes but no one had mentioned: he only had one arm.

You had gotten up one night when you were ill with food poisoning and gone out to get sick at the edge of the field near your house. During a brief respite, while you were gasping for air, you saw the figure of the orc step silently out of the woods on the footpath, the hand cart he pulled behind him as quiet as he was. You watched in the dim light of the moon as he stopped at your door, let go of the hand cart, picked up a bundle of wood wrapped in twine, dropped it on your doorstep, and continued on his way. All one handed.

His entire left arm was missing and the left sleeve of his tunic was sewn shut unevenly. His ill-fitting clothes were plain and worn, likely the cheapest he could buy if he hadn’t scavenged them from somewhere. It hurt your pride a little as a tailor to see him wearing such rags. He wasn’t wearing a coat either, despite the chill of the autumn night, and his boots looked pretty beat up.

He was as big as everyone said he was, though he looked thinner than you expected, almost lanky. His hair was cut short, rough and jagged, looking as though he’d done it himself somehow, but you couldn’t determine its color in this light.

You’d almost forgotten that you were sick for a few minutes as you watched from the shadows as he made his way down the block and dropped off the wood at each door. Did he get paid for this service? You’d never paid him before, and most people in town were terrified of him, so you didn’t think they went out of their way to make sure he got his due for the work. Did he do it for free? Why?

After a moment of watching and pondering, your body abruptly remembered that it had eaten some bad eggs and you hurled what was left in your stomach into the brush. You tried to be quiet about it, but it’s hard to make a distressed belly obey or mask the wet splashing of sick in the dewy grass. The force and pressure of heaving actually caused you to black out.

When you awoke, you were inside your home, lying on your bed, and you saw someone moving around in the dark.

“Who’s there?” You croaked roughly, your throat raw from vomiting.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” A deep male voice responded. A cup of water was pressed into your hand. “Drink this. I saw you pass out. Sick as you are, you’d likely have caught a killing fever if I left you there.”

You took a sip dutifully. A match was struck and a candle lit near the door, illuminating the face of the thin orc woodcutter.

“Oh, it’s you,” You said.

“Yeah. It’s me,” He replied flatly. “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.” He raked up the coals in the fireplace of your room and threw in a few logs, bringing the fire back to life. In this light, you could see his hair was a soft brown color, and his eyes matched. His skin wasn’t green, like most orcs you’d seen, but an dark red ochre color. You tried hard not to stare at his missing arm.

“Thank you,” you rasped, taking another cautious sip of water. “What’s your name?”

“Arkag,” He said. “Not that it matters. We likely won’t speak again.”

“Why not?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” He said. “I need to go soon. I have to finish the deliveries before sun up.”

“Why?”

“I make people nervous,” He said simply. “It’s best if no one sees me.”

“I see…” You said sadly. He sounded detached and resigned. You felt terrible for him and had to wonder what led him to living such a solitary life. You were almost certain it had to do with his arm, but you couldn’t dig up the courage to ask him about it. “Well, let me repay you for your kindness.”

“No need,” He said.

“Really, I insist. I’m a tanner and a tailor. I could make you a coat! You need one; it’s going to get colder soo--”

“No!” Arkag shouted. “I don’t need your charity and I’m not looking to make friends. Don’t make me regret helping you.” He stalked out of your room and to the front door and left without another word.

You grimaced and grumbled. You didn’t care what he’d said. This wasn’t about charity; it was entirely possible that he saved your life. A coat was the least you could do to repay him.

Once you’d recovered from your illness, you hired a hunter to bring you back as big a pelt as they could find. You knew you’d need a big animal to clothe Arkag and you wanted it to be all one piece. Nothing you had currently in your stock was adequate.

It took you more than two months to tan the leather, and then another two weeks to waterproof it. Sewing the coat took less a few days. By the time the coat was finished, it was well into winter and the snowfall was getting heavy. You wished you’d had the chance to start this project this sooner. Either way, it was done, and you went out during the day to find Arkag’s house.

You followed the beaten footpath deep into the forest and eventually found a small cottage in a circular clearing. The cottage seemed to be a single well-built room made of grey stone thatched with dry reeds and clay. It had a small garden in the front, though it was mostly empty currently, save for a few winter vegetables. You didn’t see him anywhere, and there was no smoke in the chimney, so you assumed he was out working. You left the coat, folded and wrapped in waxed parchment, on the stoop of his front door and left.

That night in the early hours, you were awoken by a loud banging on your door.

“Open up!” You heard Arkag growl.

Aggravated, you wrapped your blanket around you and went and flung the front door open.

“And what time do you call this?” You snapped.

Arkag had the coat clutched in his fist and threw it at you. “I told you I didn’t want your charity!”

“It’s not charity!” You yelled back. “I wanted to make it! I’m just repaying you for helping me!”

“I don’t want anything from you! I don’t want anything from anyone! Leave me alone!” He spun and stomped off.

You huffed and slammed your door. Months of careful work gone to waste because of one stubborn ass. The coat had been made for Arkag and it wouldn’t fit anyone else. You sighed forcefully and put the coat back on the body form.

The next day you went out to hunt. You could catch small game just fine; anything bigger than a deer, though, and you usually either went with a party or hired a more experienced hunter. You were low on meat and thought a small boar would last you a good month or so, if you dried and salted it properly. Plus, you wanted to make yourself some new soft boots for spring.

As you shrugged on your quiver, Arkag’s coat caught your eye. On impulse, you snatched it from the body form and folded it, stowing it in your satchel. You weren’t sure why you did, but maybe you could talk some sense into that block-headed orc.

A few hours tracking had produced nothing, and you were wondering if you shouldn’t just settled for a few rabbits when you felt the air electrify and the small hairs on your neck stand on end. Looking up, you saw that the clouds were darkening and decided to give up the hunt for today. A storm was coming.

You heard thunder in the distance and you hastened your steps. Thunder and lightning during snow storms was unusual, especially in the middle of winter. You had a feeling this one would be bad.

Just as you were coming to the place where the trees opened up a bit, you heard the crack of lightning hitting a tree, startling you. What startled you even more was the blood-curdling scream that followed. You broke into a run and followed the sound with your heart in your throat.

The snow was falling as you stumbled into the clearing that housed Arkag’s cottage. Arkag was on his knees next to his chopping block, an axe lying nearby, wailing as though he were in pain, though you couldn’t immediately see any wound. There was a smoldering tree nearby that must have been struck by the bolt.

“Arkag!” You shouted, running to him. “Arkag! Are you alright?”

“My arm!” He cried. “My arm!”

You looked at his right arm and inspected it frantically for injuries. “It’s alright! You’re arm’s fine! Arkag, you’re fine!”

“My arm! Oh gods, my arm!”

“Arkag, you’re arm isn’t hurt! You’re--” You realized then that his right hand was grasping for his missing left arm. Arkag was shaking violently and sobbing, his eyes wide and unseeing. You wanted to help him, but you weren’t sure what you could do. You were leery of touching him, concerned you would make it worse or that he’d lash out.

The only thing you could think of was the coat. He was only wearing his beat up boots, ill-fitting trousers, and the messily sewn tunic. Perhaps orcs had a higher cold tolerance than humans, but he still had to be feeling this weather. Shaking your head, you took out the coat and lay it over his shoulders carefully, trying not to jostle or alarm him.

The thunder continued to roll and the snow continued to fall as you knelt next to Arkag, keeping watch over him until this… flashback, you guessed, passed. Slowly, ever so slowly, Arkag seemed to come back to himself as the snow collected on both of you. This close, you could see that one of his tusks was cracked down the middle and rather grey in color compared to its twin, which was the normal yellow-white.

“Arkag,” You said softly. “We need to get inside before we freeze. The snow is going to get worse and it’ll be dark soon.”

Arkag blinked rapidly and wiped his face. He’d stopped crying but was still shivering. “Go ahead,” Arkag said in a low, brusque tone. “You can make fun of me now.”

Your head rocked back. “Why on earth would I make fun of you?”

He scoffed. “Forget it,” Arkag growled, attempting to stand but stumbling.

You rushed to catch him. “Here, let me--”

Arkag pushed you away, and you fell backward on your butt.

“What was that for?” You asked indignantly.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Arkag said, falling back to a knee. “Leave me alone.”

“Would you stop being stubborn?” You said, shoving yourself to a standing position and taking his arm. “Do you want to freeze?”

“I don’t care!” He shouted at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Stop being dramatic and let me help you, you idiot!”

He attempted to shake you, but the episode had left him weakened. After a moment of trying to fend you off, you eventually got him to his feet and steered him toward his cottage.

Inside was simple and undecorated. There was a fire pit in the center of the single room that was lit, over which was a spit and a grate where a kettle or pan could be placed. There was no bed; instead there was a padded mat covered in furs that he likely slept on. There was a cabinet with jars of food, shelves with random knick-knacks, and a table with a single chair.

Strangely, though there wasn’t much actually in the cottage, it was very cluttered. There were various bones from previous meals thrown into a corner. There was an open trunk with clothes spilling out of it, both washed and unwashed. There were dirty dishes in a basin. The floor was unswept and straw-strewn. You got the feeling that he wasn’t necessarily a slob, he just didn’t care to pick up after himself.

You led him to the chair and he fell heavily into it.

“Where’s your kettle?” You asked.

He pointed at the basin and you went over, finding the kettle underneath a wash cloth. It was rusted and beat up, but it seemed mostly clean. You filled it with water from a barrel near the table and set the kettle on the grate over the fire. You found a clean mug and a canister with tea leaves.

“I don’t want tea,” He said churlishly. “I want ale. Or whiskey.”

“You need tea,” You replied firmly. “We need to raise your body temperature. It’s your own fault for gallivanting around without a coat.”

“Alcohol warms me better,” He grumbled.

“That’s actually a myth,” You told him as you warmed your hands by the fire, waiting for the water to boil. “Alcohol doesn’t make you warmer, it just makes you feel like you are. You’re more likely to freeze to death because you feel like you’ve warmed up when you really haven’t.”

“Still want it,” Arkag said sourly.

“Drink the tea first, then we’ll see,” You said sternly. You stole furtive glances at him as you bustled around his small cottage, getting tea ready. At first, he simply sat there, staring at nothing, though over time, he looked down at the coat, touching it tentatively.

“You really made this?” He asked.

“Sure did,” You replied. “Took me two months to tan that moose skin.”

“Huh,” He hummed. “I used to be able to do things like this. Well, not this; I couldn’t sew even when I had both arms. But I did a bit of skinning and tanning back in my day.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked neutrally.

“Not particularly,” He said.

You sifted some tea leaves into his mug and poured the water in, letting it steep for a moment before pushing the mug over to him and leaning against the wall.

“What about today? What happened today?”

Arkag stared at the mug distantly, wrapping his large hand around it to warm his fingers.

“The sound,” He whispered. “The sound of the tree cracking and snapping. It brought me right back to the day… this…” He waved vaguely at the missing arm. “The day this happened. My body locked up and I couldn’t move. I barely remember most of it. I heard your voice… but from far away. And I couldn’t see you. Why were you even here? The coat?”

“No, I heard you screaming.”

He looked up at you. “Was I screaming?”

You frowned in concern. “Does this happen often?”

“Not anymore,” He replied. “It did when I was younger. It’s why I left in the first place. I was mocked relentlessly by the clan. They didn’t understand that I couldn’t control it.” He took a large gulp of his tea and grimaced at the bitterness of it. “I’ve been alright for awhile now, but… the lightning… when it hit the tree… the sound it made… it just… caught me off guard, I guess.”

“I understand,” You said. “It scared you. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He huffed a mirthless laugh. “You don’t know much about orcs, then.”

You laughed, too. “I’m afraid I don’t. I’ve hunted with a few, and I’ve had a couple in my shop, but I’ve never had an actual conversation with one.”

“Not surprising,” Arkag said. “Orcs keep to themselves. We’re a rowdy bunch, but only in places we feel comfortable, and that’s usually around other orcs. Outside of strongholds, we tend to be tight lipped and reserved. They teach us to be cautious around outsiders.”

“Aren’t you an outsider now?”

He shrugged. “Technically. If I wanted to, I could go back. But I don’t want to. I’m comfortable being alone.”

“Are you?” You asked, folding your arms.

He looked up and squinted at you, but didn’t answer.

A strange, heavy silence fell, and you looked out of the window that was next to your head. The thunder and lightning had ceased, but the storm was still in full swing. The snow was falling heavily and the wind was picking up. It was also getting dark.

“Well,” You said with a sigh. “If you’re alright, I should get going. If I don’t go now, I won’t get home before nightfall, and I don’t want to get stuck in this weather after dark.”

Arkag cleared his throat, but when you looked at him, he didn’t say anything.

“Yes?”

“Well…” He said slowly. “It’s… late. I suppose it’s safer for you to stay here until morning, at least. I don’t have much to offer, though.” He waved vaguely around the cottage.

“Oh,” You said in surprise. “Thanks. I don’t need much, just a space on the floor to sleep. As long as we keep the fire up, I’ll be plenty comfortable.” You eyed him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” He said, not meeting your eye. “You… you did help me. And you made me this nice coat.” He brushed a hand over the leather. “This is moose, you said? Awfully soft for moose.”

“I have a special ingredient for tougher leathers,” You told him. “Softens it but the material stays strong and lasts years. Take care of that coat and it’ll last a good decade and a half, at least.”

He seemed impressed. “Not bad.” He looked up at you, then away. “Thanks. For the coat. And… for not being an ass about… you know… earlier.”

“Are you really going to accept the coat?” You asked.

He sneered at you. “You want it back?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” You said. “I meant…” You shrugged lamely, shaking your head.“‘You’re welcome’.”

“Good,” He said, and you swore you almost saw a smile.

He offered you some dried meat and a jar of preserves for dinner, and the both of you turned in. You laid out your coat and rested your head on your satchel on the other end of the cottage while Arkag settled on his mat, using his new coat as a blanket.

You were comfortable but restless, thinking back on Arkag’s wild, terrified eyes and the anguished screaming. What could have caused such fear in him? What had he gone through that made him leave his clan and family behind? How long ago had it been? How long had he been dealing with it alone?

You watched him toss and turn in his sleep, mumbling and groaning. You wondered what dreams were visiting him, if he was reliving his personal nightmare right now. If they haunted him every night. If there was anything that gave him comfort. Looking around his cottage, you didn’t see anything particularly comforting.

With your thoughts in a roil, you turned over and eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#exophilia #orc #mlm

271 notes · View notes

hybridfanfiction · 5 years

Text

Stay With Me - 1

Rabbit Hybrid Mark x Reader

Summary: After moving away from home, your car breaks down and you’re forced to travel through an unfamilar forest. You’re saved by a rabbit hybrid named Mark. The problem is, you don’t want to leave.

Word Count: 2,800

❦

Curse your stupid car. And curse yourself for always putting off getting it fixed. You had no idea what those flashing lights had meant before the poor thing died right in the middle of the night near a giant forest, like some horror movie. And to make things worse, your phone had long died and you’d left your charger at home. Well, not your home anymore.

You dropped your forehead onto the steering wheel and sighed, wondering where you went wrong in a past life for this to be happening to you. The only options left to you were spending the night in your freezing car or walking a couple of hours to get through the forest until you reached the town that you knew was near here.

Neither option was amazing, but at least if you started walking you’d spend less time in the cold than you would sticking around your car. Mind made up, you slid out and pulled on your jacket and a beanie. You locked the car, even though it seemed pointless since no one would want to steal the piece of crap. With a weary sigh, you walked through the trees, chattering your teeth as you held your jacket closer to you.

God, this was such a stupid decision, you thought to yourself as the darkness of the forest and various strange sounds started to get to you. You felt like you were just waiting for a serial killer to pop up at any moment.

After an hour of walking, you were wondering if you were going to die out here. You were freezing, tired, starving, and terribly scared. You had also realized some time back that without GPS, you really had no idea if you were going the right way. For all that you knew, you were going in circles, stuck in this creepy forest forever.

Just as you were considering sitting on a nearby log for a well-deserved break, you heard a rustling in a nearby bush. You held your breath, looking around frantically for something that could be used as a weapon. Suddenly, your leg caught on something and you heard a sickening crack as your ankle twisted wrong. You fell forward on your hands, scraping them on the ground.

With a light sob as the throbbing in your ankle finally registered, you realize you’re all alone in a forest with a now twisted or broken ankle. Did someone put a curse on you? What the hell was going on with this day? With this month even?

Your tears began to his the forest floor as you cried in earnest, everything finally getting the better of you. You just needed something to go right for once.

You’d nearly forgotten about the bush that had worried you earlier, but it had started rustling again. You watched through tears, just waiting for some wild cat to jump out and finish you off.

Something did jump out, but it most certainly wasn’t a cat.

First, a little nose popped out, sniffing the air. Then two of the longest pair of ears you’d ever seen. Finally, the rabbit hopped completely out of the bush, staring at you as his nose moved a mile a minute.

He was the biggest rabbit you’d ever seen, and you somewhat recalled seeing something on the internet once about Flemish rabbits. Flemish Giant Rabbits? Whatever they were called, this was most certainly one of them, although how one was all the way out here was a mystery. Maybe he was someone’s pet once but they released him once they realized how big he was getting. Messed up, but not surprising if that was it.

You sit up a little and use the log behind you to lean on, trying to gather the courage to move your leg a little bit. The rabbit seemed to have decided closer inspection was needed as he hopped a little nearer, staring at you for a few moments before he sniffed at your ankle. Smart little thing seemed to know what the problem was.

If nothing else, the big grey rabbit was proving to be a good distraction from your pain as you watched him inspect you and slowly move closer after every sniff. Before you knew it, he (or she? You weren’t about to check) sat up on its hind legs to sniff at your face - or more specifically - your tears. If you didn’t know better, you’d say the little guy was smart as hell, like human smart and knew that you were crying in pain.

Suddenly, the rabbit hopped away from you again until he reached his bush again. Only he looked behind him and hopped back over to you, then back to his bush. Like he wanted you to follow? So now this forest trip was making you delirious. Great.

You grit your teeth and pull yourself up, trying your best to walk without putting too much pressure on your injured ankle. If nothing else, maybe this creepy smart bunny will lead you to some water.

You moved agonizingly slow but eventually made it to where his giant bush was, and with a peek around it, you were surprised to find a small dirt trail. It wasn’t much, but perhaps it was a sign that there was some sort of human life out here. Hopefully, one that wouldn’t carve you up.

You walked the trail slowly, the big bunny rabbit hopping along in front of you and occasionally looking behind him like he was checking to make sure you were still there. Maybe the rabbit belonged to whoever owned the trail?

After walking for what felt like forever due to the pain you were in, the rabbit stopped in front of...a hobbit house?

There was no other way to explain it. From the outside, it appeared to be part of a hill covered with grass and flowers. But there was also a huge wooden door and a stone chimney, even a cute little window. The rabbit seemed to be watching you expectantly, so you knocked, not knowing what else to do.

You waited a few moments to see if Bilbo Baggins was going to scream at you to go away, but you were met with nothing but silence. Curiously, you pushed the door open and it swung free of its hinge easily. You peeked inside, and while dark and quiet at the moment, it was still warmer than it was outside.

“Hello? Anyone home?”

It seemed whoever this little hole in the ground belonged to was away at the moment, but just in case, you try once more.

“I’m not a robber, I promise. I think I have your rabbit here?”

Still nothing. As the ache in your ankle made its presence known, you decided to at least sit down somewhere and wait. Maybe whoever owned the place would understand you were injured and not shoot you. Or maybe they would and just put you out of your misery already. It was a little difficult to navigate in the dark, but you found yourself in a sort of living room and the feeling of the chair under your hand was plush and comfy. There was even a big blanket draped on it, and you took the liberty of happily wrapping it around yourself and sinking into the comfortable chair. You’d only be a few moments, you swore. You just needed a quick rest.

The smell of food was what woke you up. You hadn’t even planned on sleeping, but you guessed everything just caught up to you at once. You cracked your eyes open to find a steaming bowl of rice porridge in front of you. There was a fire crackling in the hearth, which explained why you felt so toasty finally. Your injured leg was also propped up on a footstool and wrapped with some sort of linen.

Apparently, the person that lived here finally showed up and not only didn’t kill you or kick you out, but patched you up and was feeding you as well. Perhaps your luck had finally turned after all. The little window outside showed it was still dark, so you couldn’t have been sleeping long. Perhaps an hour or two.

“Hello?”

You waited a few moments, but you were again met with silence. Perhaps they were just shy. You shrug and take a bite of the porridge, humming happily as your belly warms.

Suddenly you hear footsteps and set down your spoon, tensing. God only knew what could be walking around that corner.

Instead of the ogre or cackling witch you’d expected, a beautiful man walks towards you with a tea tray. He smiles happily when he meets your eyes, his smile adorably wide and toothy.

“Oh, good. You’re awake! I made this tea for you. It’s made with willowbark. It tastes horrible, but it’s good for dulling pain. I’m sure your ankle hurts a lot.”

Any response you could have made died when you finally noticed what was on top of his head. Ears. Not just any sort of ears, but giant grey rabbit ears. And when he turned to the side to set down the tray, a grey puffy rabbit tail poked out of a hole in his sweats.

A hybrid then. You’d never heard of any living in the wild before. You thought they were all just puppies and kittens made in a lab that went for a ridiculous amount to hang off the arm of some disgusting old rich person.

“Thank you,” you finally come to your senses enough to squeak out. “And thank you for last night. I’m guessing that was you.”

He nodded as he sat down in the chair opposite you, his ears flopping cutely along with his head.

“Yes. I was out foraging when I thought I smelled human. It was strange because we don’t usually get many of you out here. You got hurt and I couldn’t just leave you.”

“Thank you again,” you smile as he pours you a cup of tea. “My name is Y/N, by the way.”

“I’m Mark,” he grins, sliding the cup towards you.

“Are you out here alone?”

You take a sip of the tea and it really is bitter. You cringe and try to remind yourself that in the case of most medicine, the more horrible it tastes the better it works.

“Nope, not really. This burrow is all mine, but I have a bunch of brothers that live out here too.”

You glance up at him in surprise. “Did you make this place?”

He blushes but puffs his chest proudly. “Yep. All rabbit males do once they're ready to find a mate. They start to build their burrows. I’ve been working on mine for about six years now. I even have a few tunnels that connect to my brother’s homes.”

“That’s incredible, Mark. I’m so impressed. I can’t even build Ikea furniture without crying.”

He smiles shyly and nudges the porridge at you to remind you to eat. You shovel a few more bites in the please him.

“So what’s your mate like then? Are they going to be here soon?” You ask between bites.

Mark chuckles and shakes his head. “I don’t have one yet. I’ve heard there’s a rabbit colony somewhere east of here that I could go and look for someone, but I don’t know. It didn’t feel right. My mom always said my mate would show up when the time is right, and that I would know right away it was them. So I’ve been building and waiting.”

“That’s sweet,” you hum and take another sip of the horrible tea. “You’ll find someone. I’ve only known you for a few minutes and I can already tell you’re a catch. Look at everything you’ve done for me without knowing me at all.”

He blushes and stands up, taking your empty bowl and refilling your tea.

“I’ll be right back.”

You nod and watch him walk away, lounging back in your chair in contentment. What a sweetheart Mark was. You were warm, fed, and comfortable beside the horrible ache in your ankle. Although if his tea worked, that would go away soon too.

You might have dozed off a little bit, but Mark’s arrival promptly woke you back up. You smiled sleepily at him as he fussed over you, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders. Unfortunately, your body chose that moment to remind you of certain bodily functions.

“Um, Mark...where do you...uhh...you know?”

He stared at you in confusion until he noticed the way your body was starting to automatically do what you lovingly termed “the peepee dance.”

“OH. Of course. I’m so sorry. I’ll take you.”

And he really meant take you. He scooped you up and carried you bridal style through the house, leading you down a surprisingly impressive tunnel system full of rooms. When he reached the end, he opened one of the doors to reveal something you’d expect to see in a historical film.

“It’s nothing fancy, I’m afraid. Still, I did the best I could. It doesn’t smell bad and it all turns into compost. When you’re done, cover it with the sawdust I keep over here,” he explained, pointing everything out.

You shivered imagining having to go to the bathroom like this every day, but at least the papers or towels or whatever those were looked clean and easy to use. You suppose if you’re trying to live in the middle of the forest away from humans, things are bound to be difficult without plumbing and electricity.

You finish your business quickly and wash your hands in the basin left in there. When you open the door again, Mark is waiting a litte ways down the hall and rushes over once he sees you come out.

He scoops you back up again without a word and carries you back to your chair in front of the fire. Mark sits in the seat next to you, the silence as you both settle in comfortable instead of straining. You peek over, surprised by the sudden blush that heats up your cheeks as you observe him.

Despite the strangeness of the rabbit ears, he’s really a beautiful man. Enough that if he’d been human, there was no way he wouldn’t be a model or actor or something like that. He’s also incredibly kind, taking you in when you were hurt and lost and taking care of you without a single complaint. In fact, he’d never asked for anything, just fed you and even carried you around like it was his job.

You sigh and it seems to catch his attention as he glances over at you, a little worried furrow in his brows.

“You okay? Is your ankle really bad?”

“No,” you shake your head and smile reassuringly at him. “It’s achy, but it’s not horrible. I think it’s just twisted really bad, not broken, so at least there’s that.”

“If you need me to, I can get one of my brothers to come help me get you into town. I saw the doctor there once and he’s really nice. Didn’t seem to care that I was a hybrid.”

“I do need to get back to town eventually. And I need to collect my car. I don’t suppose you have one, do you?”

He shook his head, his ears folding over sadly. “I don’t, I’m sorry. But my brother Youngjae has a wagon. We could take you in that. It just would take a bit to get everything ready and it’s still the middle of the night right now. He’ll kill me if I wake him up.”

“There’s no rush, Mark. You should get a nap in too. You’ve been up taking care of me.”

He blushed and turned to look at the fire. “I don’t mind.”

You smile fondly and even sneak a little pat on his arm. A few moments later you’re fighting to stay awake when he stands up.

“Can I put you in an actual bed? There’s one right across from mine so I can hear if you need me.”

“Oh, a bed sounds wonderful, Mark. You are seriously an angel.”

He grins and once again scoops you up. You’re starting to get really comfortable with the sensation of being in his arms.

The bed he puts you in is huge, at least king-sized, and incredibly fluffy. The frame is huge and wooden, and you remind yourself to ask him if he built all this when you’re more capable of speech.

Mark covers you in several quilts and tucks them around you, petting your hair away from your forehead. You look up at him and smile sleepily.

“Thank you, Mark, for everything. Goodnight.”

He shuffles towards the door and you are nearly asleep when he mumbles, “Goodnight, Y/N. I’m so glad you’re finally here.”

#got7 #hybrid #hybrids #hybrid au #au #hybrid!got7 #hybrid!mark #hybrid fanfiction #mark tuan

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bcbdrums · 4 years

Text

Rainy cuddles for @gothicthundra.

FFn link --> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13652934/1/Equilibrium

More Drakgo fic because OF COURSE. This thing took unexpected turns...cuz I wanted to write one thing, and the characters said nope you writing this other thing. Ah well.

This is also for Prompt #4 at @drakgoprompts which...hasn’t been posted yet. But I know what it is. I’m still gonna do Prompt #3! This just happened first.

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The hurricane raged outside the lair with a vehemence that Drakken was unused to. Just before the power went out, he'd seen on TV that it had been upgraded to Category 5. As he shined his flashlight ahead of him, he walked with atypical slowness and caution. Suddenly he was very aware of just how...frightening...his lair really was.

The thought gave him a swell of pride, but it wasn't enough to shake the unease he felt. Hearing only his footsteps echoing through the halls and their adjoining caverns when he was used to a constant hum of electricity and the buzz of fluorescent lights was very unnerving.

As he rounded the corner toward the den, he was surprised to see a glow indicating the fireplace was already alight. When he stepped into the room he peered around, finding it empty but for the cracks and pops of the coals.

"Shego?" he whispered.

"Boo!"

"GAAHHH!"

Drakken almost hit her in the face with the flashlight as she grabbed his shoulders from behind. He lurched forward and spun around at the same time, his arm swinging wildly, but Shego ducked as she cackled at him.

"Don't sneak up on me like that, Shego!"

"Whoa, why so jumpy?"

Thunder suddenly cracked, echoing down through the chimney. Shego looked toward the fireplace as Drakken cowered in place, clutching the flashlight to his chest.

Shego's gaze drifted back to him and her smirk returned. "Heheh. Need a trip to the little mad scientist's room, Dr. D.?"

A growl built inside Drakken's chest. "Nngh, zip it!"

She chuckled and stepped past him, patting his shoulder as she did so. Drakken turned and watched as she picked up a magazine from the end table and flopped into her usual chair, turning her back to the fireplace so she could read.

After a long moment of staring, Drakken turned off his flashlight and stalked to his desk. There was just enough firelight that maybe, he could work on some details of his latest weapon design.

Another crack of thunder sounded down the chimney. Drakken jumped again, but only knocked the flashlight off the desk. Shego lowered her magazine and frowned at him.

"Are you gonna do this all night?" she asked.

Drakken looked at her and merely blinked, too many thoughts racing through his head to process an answer. What happened if they ran out of firewood? What if the hurricane damaged the lair and they had to evacuate? How could they evacuate, given their current circumstances?

"Y'ello, Dr. D.? You still with me?"

Drakken started again and focused in on her, but words still wouldn't quite reach his lips... What if during their evacuation, the hover-car crashed into the ocean? What about the henchmen? There weren't enough vehicles for all of them.

Thunder boomed again.

"Ugh, if you're gonna be like this all night, I'm sleeping in my own room."

That snapped Drakken back into the present. He slowly sat down behind his desk and continued staring at Shego as she squinted through the firelight at her magazine.

He kept messing things up. First, he hadn't been attentive or affectionate enough and she'd thought he wasn't really that interested after all. Then, he'd been too affectionate and she found it strange and claustrophobic. He couldn't seem to find the balance.

He sighed. He picked up the flashlight and rose from the desk as he clicked it back on. It wasn't worth it to be abused by Shego while being terrified that they might die and he could do nothing to protect all of them.

He should just go to bed... If he died, he would rather it be in his sleep as opposed to waiting up for it to come. He started briskly toward the door.

"Drakken!"

He halted and cautiously glanced over his shoulder. Shego tossed her magazine to the floor.

"Come here."

His hand tightened on the flashlight as he slowly stepped towards her. He couldn't tell what her intentions were by the hard look on her face. It wasn't anger, or mocking...but there certainly wasn't anything kind about it.

He stopped two feet from the chair and watched her nervously as she stared up at him. After a moment she sighed and looked down with a scowl. She stood up and gestured harshly to the chair.

"Here. Sit."

Drakken hesitated. "...What for?"

"Because as much fun as I could have with it, I really don't want you sitting on my lap all night. You're kinda heavy."

Thunder boomed again and Drakken jumped before practically falling into the chair. Shego rolled her eyes and sat down half on his lap, and half on the remaining available cushion in the large chair. Drakken stared at her in surprise as she settled in, curling her legs up across his lap and putting her arms around him, the blank yet hard look back on her face.

She looked up at him and raised her brow.

"I thought you were mad at me?" Drakken asked as his hands cautiously settled on her shoulder and on her hip, the flashlight forgotten on the floor.

"I am," she said.

Drakken's face fell, his brow twisted in confusion.

"But...then why—?"

"Because otherwise this will probably go on for days. It's bad enough to have you ignoring me or smothering me. The last thing I need is you worrying I'm not interested anymore just because you're afraid of a little storm."

Drakken's eyes narrowed. "It's a Category 5 hurricane, Shego."

"We've been through hurricanes before."

"None this big or strong!" he protested. "Have you ever heard thunder like that before?"

At that moment, as if proving his point, a massive clap of thunder echoed down the chimney. Drakken grabbed Shego close to his chest as he stared at the fireplace.

The flames were being whipped by the wind that entered from above, and he noticed for the first time that the stone inside the fireplace was darkened where rainwater was dripping inside. As he listened to the whistle of wind, he saw as a smattering of raindrops were thrown against the inside of the fireplace. He also realized the fire was lower than it had been just a few minutes ago.

"The rain is getting inside," he said fearfully.

Shego pulled out of his tight grasp and turned to study the fire. Her eyes narrowed in calculation.

"Shego...if the lair is destroyed, I...I can't get you out."

She turned her intense gaze back to to his face and studied him.

"What?"

"We'll be trapped here."

"We have the hover-cars, and the boats."

"We can't use them in a hurricane! And if the lair is too badly damaged we'll be exposed to the elements. The cold, and the rain..."

Drakken was picturing it all in his mind—he, Shego, and the henchmen clinging to rocky ruins for survival as lightning flashed and waves rose higher and higher around them.

"Dr. D."

Drakken refocused as Shego took his face in her hands.

"The lair isn't going to be destroyed."

"But what if it is? I won't be able to...won't be able to..." He stopped and swallowed down nervously on his next words, knowing she wouldn't like them.

"Won't be able to what?" she asked, her expression slightly less annoyed as the sound of driving rain became loud even through the thick stone walls of the lair. How could she not be even a little bit concerned?

"...Protect you," he said quietly.

Shego's brow rose. "Is that what this is about?"

There was another clap of thunder accompanied by a horrible, loud cracking sound. This time even Shego was startled, and her hands fell to Drakken's shoulders and gripped them tightly as he clung to her.

The firelight began flickering more intensely, and they both looked to see rain falling through the chimney and dousing the flames. Drakken's mind raced in fear again at the sheer impossibility of what he was seeing.

Shego suddenly stood and left his embrace, crossing the short distance to the fireplace and attempting to look up the flue.

"I think the wind destroyed part of the chimney. Or maybe lightning."

Drakken stood and moved to look with her, but he couldn't get as close to the fire due to the heat. But with the way rain was falling down onto the flames, it was a logical conclusion.

Suddenly there was a sound of running feet, and they both turned to see the entire cadre of henchmen rushing down the hall and stopping short at the entrance to the den, some of them comically crashing into the backs of others. They never entered their boss's more private areas of the lair without permission.

"What?" Drakken asked warily.

"The lower level is flooded," Jameson said breathlessly, gesturing back down the hall with his flashlight. Drakken noted the rather damp appearance of some of his henchmen, especially the ones out of uniform.

"How flooded?"

"About six inches across the entire floor and rising fast. We uh...we're gonna need a place to sleep."

Drakken bit down on a curse and glanced at Shego as he considered for a moment. "You can all use the living room. Did the spare blankets survive?"

"We got them!" two others chimed in, holding up large stacks of the folded blue articles.

"Good..." Drakken said, worrying again about the destruction of the lair.

"Post a watch," Shego said, stepping up next to Drakken. "If the water level gets too high we'll need to know about it."

The henchmen all nodded their agreement and left with anxious mutterings over their residence and personal belongings.

Drakken crossed back to Shego's chair, setting his hand on its high back as he sighed. The lair had never flooded before. If they survived, it would need extensive repairs, and the henchmen would need a new temporary residence...if they all survived. If the hurricane moved fast enough, it was possible, but the last news broadcast he'd seen before the power outage suggested it was moving slowly.

"Doc?"

He jumped slightly at the feel of Shego's hand on his shoulder. He turned to see that her annoyance had faded, and her eyes were compassionate.

"We're gonna be fine."

Drakken felt his nerves beginning to calm at the soft, reassuring look in her eyes. And then the fire went out.

He was suddenly aware that the sound of rain had become a roar overhead. Clearly the chimney had been damaged in some capacity, and rain was falling freely into the fireplace, cooling the hot coals.

Drakken's heart pounded. Did he want to die stumbling around in the dark in a futile attempt to save everyone, or die in his bed, falling asleep to the deceptive lure of the rain?

"Drakken?"

A green glow illuminated the space between them and lit up her face in ominous shadow, despite the soft look she still wore.

"I'll go turn the generator on. Then we can figure out where to put the henchmen for a few days until the storm has passed."

"Do you have a death wish? The generator is on the lower level!" he protested.

Shego pursed her lips. He recognized that she wanted to be annoyed, but her patience was atypically winning the day.

"I want you to stop freaking out," she said calmly, though he knew agitation was just beneath the surface.

Drakken swallowed anxiously and shook his head. "You can't go down there."

He watched her fight the urge to roll her eyes.

"Fine... You wanna just go to bed, then?"

Drakken remembered her annoyed words from before about sleeping in her own room and weighed them against all of her unusually generous actions since. But his fear still won out.

"We could just...sit here, for awhile?" he suggested. He would rather be with her through the crisis than alone in his bed. Especially if they were going to die.

She lifted a single, knowing eyebrow. Since when was she able to read him so well? He quickly sat down in her chair.

"Come on," he said, trying to smile as he opened his arms to her.

Shego did finally roll her eyes as she settled back into his lap, cuddling closer than she had before. She kept her hand lit so they could see each other, and Drakken realized then looking into her eyes that he had nothing and everything to say to her.

"What?" Shego asked, her expression quirking into a slight grimace.

The words 'I love you' were on his lips, but he held them back. He was concerned she wouldn't take him seriously given the situation. And he didn't want to risk annoying her further.

"If...the lair is destroyed, where would you like to live?" he said instead.

Her brow rose and she looked thoughtful, yet...distant. He let his breath out silently, though his relief was faint. She was becoming increasingly more difficulty to read.

He supposed he had expected things to change more quickly after they had gotten together. But he hadn't exactly made any proposals...of the permanent or temporary nature. And she slept in her own room as often as she came to his.

That factor was a large source of his confusion. It was a question every night: would she come to bed with him, or go to her own room? He had assumed that after they became intimate she would just stay with him all the time. But after returning from the lab one night to find his bed empty...and then getting a tongue-lashing for waking her up when asking why she was in her own bed, he realized...he had presumed too much.

That night was when she'd aloofly revealed that she thought he wasn't that interested. His desperate response of being overly attentive in the following days hadn't made things better, and she'd told him pretty quickly that she didn't want him at her elbow every second of every day, either. When that conversation had turned into an argument and he'd asked just what she wanted from him, she'd made him promise to 'just act normal.' Whatever on earth that meant. He had no idea.

The result had been distance between them. For the most part, she acted toward him as she always had. Except for the times she decided she wanted him in bed. And her sudden seeming compassion that evening concerning his hurricane fears. Even if she had scared him earlier.

The emotional see-saw was more distressing than the hurricane.

"Well, you have plenty of lairs already..."

'You.' She'd not said 'we,' but 'you'...

"What if...we get someplace new? Where would you like it to be?" he asked, a sudden desperation coming over him.

Shego blinked at him twice in the dim green light, and then she looked away.

"I dunno..." she said with an off-handed shrug.

Drakken tried to swallow down the lump that was coming to his throat. Was she trying to put him off? He wanted to press about the lair, but he was afraid of where the conversation might lead. He looked at the way her eyes fairly glowed in the light of her...glow. And how distant and almost sad she suddenly looked.

"Shego...?"

She looked back at him in question.

"If you could do anything right now...what would it be?"

She blinked in surprise and stared at him. Outside, the rain continued pouring and filling the room with a strange cascading echo. The smell of damp ash and soot reached Drakken's nose as he waited.

Shego took a breath, and then held her hand higher and extended her fingers.

"Paint my nails. That's what I was going to do when the power went out."

Drakken sighed silently through his nose. Was she just putting him off, or was it a sign that she was losing interest as he feared? He wished he could read her more easily...

"Why, Doc?"

He focused back in as a smirk began to spread across her face.

"Have something else in mind? We could go...'cuddle'...in your bed, instead."

Drakken's face flushed. "Well, ah..."

"The moat lights will be out... We've never done it without any light. Could be dangerous," Shego continued, leaning in closer to his face.

Drakken felt his heart beat harder at her suggestion. The idea was tempting...

"This is nice too," he said, sliding his arms further around her and smiling warmly. Shego blushed and her eyes darted away into the darkness. Drakken's brow rose.

Were her advances...an attempt to avoid a more serious conversation? The more he was worrying about it all...the more determined he found himself becoming. He needed to know exactly what their relationship was. And with the power outage and the hurricane trapping them, he may never get a better chance. Or...another chance. She had no excuse not to talk with him, at least. However—

"It could be nicer..." Shego said in a murmur, letting her glow go out and plunging them into darkness. A moment later, her lips were on his neck just beneath his jaw.

Drakken's breath caught. He leaned his head back against the chair and found his thoughts starting to evaporate into the darkness, still alive with the sound of rain. It occurred to him suddenly that the thunder had stopped, but that thought too was yanked away from him by the feeling of his lover's lips on his neck.

"Wait..." he said huskily, remembering his purpose. He lurched out of her kiss, perhaps too abruptly.

Shego's hand lit up the space again. Her expression was seductive. He blinked, his train of thought vanishing again... And then he shook his head and brought his hands to her shoulders as he sat forward.

"Shego... Do you want to be with me?"

Shego's sultry smirk vanished in an instant. She blinked rapidly in her confusion, and then she swallowed once. The smirk began to return, though it was less confident.

"I would think that's obvious..." she said, leaning forward to kiss his his lips. He held up his hand between them to stop her. Her brow rose, and she leaned back in annoyance. "Well sheesh, I can just go to bed," she said, starting to stand.

Drakken grabbed her shoulders firmly and kept her in place.

"Rrngh, let go!"

"No, Shego... First...I'm ignoring you. Then, I'm crowding you. Now...you're mad at me one minute, and you're all over me the next."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're delusional," she said flatly.

"You're— But you— ...Nghh, you're confusing me!"

A tense silence hung between them, broken only by the driving rain. Without the fire the room had quickly become chilled, and despite the argument he had started Drakken was grateful for her warmth in his lap.

Shego finally sighed and broke eye contact, an almost melancholy falling over her expression. "You need to pay more attention, Doc."

"That's why I'm asking," he said, finding his voice suddenly shaky.

"I thought you were worried about the hurricane," she said, trying to stand up again. Drakken pulled her back down hard and she fell into his chest. She frowned, but he put his arms around her and held her tightly.

"Why won't you choose somewhere for a new lair?" Drakken heard leave his lips. He mentally scowled at himself. Why couldn't he just spit it out?

"You have lots of lairs! You pick one."

"I want you to choose one!"

"Ugh, fine. Timeshare. Done."

"No, a new lair! Someplace you'd like."

"Why?" she asked with a slight grimace.

Drakken hesitated, and then swallowed his nerves. "Because I want someplace that's ours!"

Shego's brow rose. "...What do you mean?"

Drakken took a deep breath and plunged forward. "You keep calling the lair 'mine.' I think of them all as ours but...if you don't, we'll get a new one that really is ours."

Shego's lips parted and she seemed, for once, to be searching for something to say.

"...No need to get all sappy just because we sleep together, Doc," was what she finally came up with, dismissing his words with an eye-roll.

Drakken pursed his lips, and then impulsively leaned forward and kissed her soundly. She gave a hum of surprise, but kissed him back with equal passion for several seconds until he pulled away.

"No, it's time we talked about this," he insisted. "You can't just put me on this...emotional see-saw and leave me there alone."

Shego raised an eyebrow. "A see-saw only works with two people."

"You know what I— No, that's the problem! You keep changing your mind about us. You won't tell me what you want."

Shego glanced away, her eyes immediately becoming troubled. Drakken studied her, his mind racing and trying to get one step ahead of her. Everything had been fine when they first got together, until his unwitting lack of attention to her. Clearly he was still making mistakes, or else he would know exactly where they stood. And she wouldn't go back to her room so often...

He leaned forward and kissed her again, this time more softly. She met his lips hungrily and her glow went out a split second before her arms circled around him and up his back, her fingers pressing into his tense trapezius muscles. He couldn't help but meet her passion, and it was only the pounding of the rain that brought him back to the present in the close darkness.

"Shego... I love you."

She didn't answer.

"T-turn the light back on," he fairly gasped as he tried to catch his breath from the kiss.

A moment of silence passed, and he wondered if she wasn't going to comply. But then the familiar glow from her hand illuminated their faces in green again.

"I love you, Shego." Why did she look so nervous? They had said it before.

"I know," was her answer a moment later, her eyes not quite focusing on his.

Drakken's heart leapt to his throat. Had her feelings changed...? Had he made so many mistakes that she had decided not to bother with him? And just make their relationship something...temporary?

"Shego..." His heart was pounding. "Do you still love me?"

Her eyes, fairly glowing in the light of her power, centered in on his. She looked slightly annoyed.

"Yes."

"Then...what's wrong?"

As she stared back at him in silence and seeming confusion his anxiety rose evermore. The seconds were passing too slowly and too quickly all at once, and he almost immediately ran out of patience.

"I'm sorry I don't know how to do any of this. I've never been in a relationship before. Please, Shego...whatever I did wrong this time, I didn't do it on purpose. Just tell me and...I'll fix it. If you...if you can be patient with me, I promise I'll fix it." He paused to swallow nervously as her eyes were now examining his face, thoughtful, and a bit cautious. "Maybe a...a new lair can be a fresh start. And you can tell me all the things I should and shouldn't be doing, and—"

Shego's free hand suddenly covered his mouth. He looked into her eyes.

"Dr. D.... Did you ever consider...you're the one leaving me on an emotional see-saw?"

Drakken's brow rose. Had he...?

He thought back and tried to consider everything from her perspective. His habits hadn't changed in terms of his work in the lab...which she interpreted as him not being interested. Or...did she think he was only interested in one thing? And then, she could have viewed his smothering affections as fake overcompensation. And since he didn't know what her request of 'just be normal' meant, he had been tiptoeing around her for days...and had probably been anything but normal.

He took a deep breath through his nose as he realized...she may in fact be as clueless as he was. What made him assume she knew how to do relationships either? He cleared his throat, and her hand slowly lowered from where it covered his mouth.

"Shego... I want you to choose a place for...our new lair. And...if that one gets destroyed, you can choose the next one. And the one after that. Because...I can work almost anywhere, but I know you have particular tastes and...I want you to be happy."

Shego stared at him, studying him again as if searching for an ulterior meaning to his words. Finally, she sighed and her gaze fell.

"See-saw, Doc..." Her voice was slightly shaky, which surprised him.

Drakken very nearly said that she could be more up front with her feelings too, but...it wasn't the time to assign blame. He wanted her. And if she wasn't sure of that, as he now suspected, he'd make her sure. And they could go from there.

"Shego..." He let one arm go from his tight hold on her and brought it forward to hold her hand. "I want you with me forever."

Her lips parted...but then came together as her brow furrowed slightly.

"And...?"

Drakken swallowed and glanced away nervously. He knew what he wanted to say... What he needed to say. And it seemed that before the words were even spoken, she knew they were coming... Maybe it was what had been missing all along. Or at least...it was a start.

"Shego..." He swallowed again. Her gloved fingers tightened on his, and the thundering of the rain outside was eclipsed by his heart pounding in his ears. "I want you to marry me. That is...will you? Marry me?"

He had only a moment to see her smile before the glowing green light went out and she flung her arms around his neck, holding him tightly.

Drakken choked slightly, but she didn't loosen her grip. He felt as if light and heat were racing through his veins as he returned her hug. He heard and felt her sigh, her frame shaking slightly in his embrace, but the sound was one of pure happiness.

"Is that a yes?" he finally asked quietly.

She slowly pulled out of the hug and her hand ignited again. There was a smirk on her lips, but delight in her eyes.

"Do you...really mean it?" she asked, glancing away shyly for a moment and chuckling. Her hand on his neck began playing with his hair.

Drakken took a breath. For a moment he was lost in her eyes, in the hope and the joy she was suddenly displaying openly—such a contrast to her guarded, sarcastic persona.

Were those words really all that had been missing?

"I love you," he said as he leaned toward her. "And I want you forever."

His face was but a breath from hers as he spoke. She barely gave him a chance to finish before her lips were on his, and all his worries faded instantly at the tenderness of her touch. The green ambience vanished and Shego's hand found his cheek, cupping it gently as he leaned back into the chair and pulled her tightly against him.

For all the weeks they'd been together, and all the kisses and deeper intimacies they'd shared, this kiss was different. It was a kiss of reckless abandon, as finally they each knew without a doubt. What they had together was far more than lust. They had a promise of forever. And it sent Drakken's blood racing.

His hands pressed into her shoulders as he kissed her back, and when his tongue slid deftly against hers a lusty hum sounded from within her throat. Compelled, he pulled his lips from hers and fastened them to her throat in the small space between her jaw and her suit collar. One of his hands wove into her hair, and she gasped at the sudden, seductive touch.

"Oh, Drakken..." she sighed. She sank against him, almost limp in his arms. But then she pulled away slightly and Drakken's lips left her throat as her hand illuminated the darkness again. He stared at her large, smiling eyes in the space between them as their chests heaved. "I love you," she said, her cheeks coloring. Her gaze dropped shyly for a moment before she put her arms around him again and murmured into his ear in the resulting darkness. "And I want to be your wife."

Drakken was overcome, in more ways than one. His trembling fingers gripped her arms tightly as he placed a careless kiss on her cheek.

"Bed?" he asked quickly, breathlessly.

"Mmh... This is nice too," she countered, echoing his words from before. She curled into his chest and rested her forehead against his cheek. "But soon."

He leaned his head against hers, focusing on the softness of her hair as he tried to catch his breath. The rain still pouring outside and chill in the air helped his racing blood settle, but the flame in his heart he knew would only grow. They had found their equilibrium.

As much as he hoped the moment would last forever...he also hoped 'soon' really meant soon.

#drakgo #drakken #shego #drakken x shego #dragko #kim possible

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mavda · 4 years

Text

When Wisdom sleeps

Ch.1 |

Ch.2: Closing gaps

Paperwork always piled up and Ashei had made it pretty clear that Link was not allowed to leave before getting it done. Link had made sure to give both his sargeants full power to work as his own representatives, and although they had accepted it and would use it when necessary, both of them would rather have Link do his own work.

Sargeant Ashei, an aloof and tall woman with droopy eyes, came by to offer Link something to eat and Link nodded and waved her off. By the time food arrived Link had made a dent on the paperwork and Guile had entered the room with a plate full of the dining hall food and a drink. Link moved his shoulders and reclined on his chair, his back felt tight and he started massaging his muscles.

"Uh, sir?"

Link made room to the plate by moving a bunch of papers out of the way he barely checked to see their importance and looked at Guile letting him know he was listening.

"Why don't you take a break and leave tomorrow?"

Link shook his head as he gobbled down a piece of chicken. "I'm leaving today." And although Guile stood there for a couple of seconds he could only sigh and leave the room.

By the time Ashei came back to take the plate away Link was halfway done with the papers, the day was in full throttle and Guile had already shared with her Link's midday's stubborness.

It only took a shared glance between Ashei and Link for him to say, "I said I'm leaving today."

Ashei grabbed the plate and glass, gave him a bored look and turned on her heels, "Break a leg."

Link was half cursing the paperwork when Guile entered again. Link was mid-movement to tell him that no, he did not need food, when Ashei followed behind and Link kept silent.

"It's way past noon, boss," Guile fiddled in place and eyed the paperwork and then gave a step to the side to let Ashei step in.

"Leave," Ashei's frown was visible even behind her fringe, "we'll take care of what's left."

Link's eyes became slits. "You were the one who told me-"

"I know," she then moved her chin towards Guile in a curt way, "he begged."

Guile could feel Link's eyes on him and his hand found the back of his head and his shoulders raised, "I... can't say I didn't."

Link stood up, moved to the front of the table, stopped one arm away from Guile and let his hand fall heavily in Guile's shoulder. "I appreciate it, Guile."

Guile, young and naive and eager to please, could only raise his shoulders even further as the embarrasment filled his body. Ashei stayed still as a statue and then Link turned to her, "I appreciate it, Ashei."

"I know," she answered, "I just don't want you falling off your horse out of exhaustion."

"When have I ever-"

"You've been holed up in here since yesterday. Now leave."

Link raised his finger to refute her but Guile was pushing him from behind, "Sir boss, we'll be all right, now leave!"

Link had to chuckle at their antics and raise his hands in defeat. The moment Link started to list off the things that were due while he was away, both Ashei and Guile repeated his every words even before he said it. Ashei had brought Link's bags from his room and had readied Epona beforehand.

"Have a safe trip, sir." Ashei saluted.

"Have a safe trip, boss!"

Link kept waving till he was out of view of his subordinates. He cracked his neck and let the sun shine on him as he moved across the training grounds. A few people greeted him as he left and Link was starting to feel excited at the idea of seeing Ganondorf and Zelda again. The trip was a week and almost six days, but although the first time he had travelled his very bones had felt tired, this time his good humor was neverending.

Mira was playing outside when Link arrived and she stood still the moment she saw him, her eyes boring into him. "Are you staying with us now?"

Link had to shake his head. Pattrick had taken Link's going to Ganondorf's house to stay the best out of everyone in his family. Mira had looked slighted at the change, mainly because -just like Zelda- she had expected a new playmate to go around town and Link had disappeared the next day. Pattrick's wife, village chief Lenora, had met Link a little over a week after his arrival. Pattrick had been chatting with him in one of Link's daily visits to Epona and had presented each other over lunch. Lenora -knowing as much as her husband- had been polite and engaging and had waved Link goodbye with only one warning: don't make trouble for the village.

With Link's subsequent visits to Epona, Mira had gotten even more friendly and would tease and demand attention from Link. Whenever Link made his way back to Ganondorf's place, Mira would always make a show out of being left behind. She was outgoing and outspoken and enjoyed asking questions, and Link could not help but humor her however he could.

"Long time no see, Mira."

"Long time indeed, Link!" Mira pointed an accusatory finger and stomped her feet on the ground, "What were you doing? Leaving me and Zelda on our own?"

Link dismounted and could only keep a smirk on his face as Mira kept on going about how Link had had the gall to leave them. Mira was making her case about how Link should make it up to them when Link grabbed one of the bags Epona had carried on her saddle.

"Speaking of gifts," Mira eyed the bag in Link's hand and narrowed her eyes.

"Bribes, huh." Not that she minded, of course. Mira turned to her house, "I'll let mom know you're here!"

Lenora greeted Link with a polite smile and received Link's gifts with grace. Pattrick was more comfortable with the young man and patted his shoulder assuring him that he needn't had to. Mira was over the moon with her new dress and started talking with her mother about using it in the winter festival next village.

Link excused himself the next moment and left Epona in Pattrick's care, he grabbed the rest of his belongings and started the trek to Ganondorf's home. The way was the same as last year and Link could only relax when he entered the clearing. This time he had arrived just before dinner and the sun was already setting, the way it painted the clearing was nostalgic in a way Link couldn't explain and the warm light coming from inside the house filled Link with comfort.

When Link knocked on the door, he heard Ganondorf talk and a chair being pulled back with haste. Zelda greeted him at the door and her face was showered with warm light from the candles around her. Ganondorf greeted Link from his seat with his deep voice and Link smiled, he was home.

After dinner, Link opened the bags he had brought with gifts for Ganondorf and Zelda. A bunch of books and clothes for Zelda -whose eyes gleamed- and clothes and a bag filled with money for Ganondorf. Ganondorf closed his arms as soon as he had realized what Link was giving him, but Link had left the bag unceremonously in the table and had then focused on Zelda's unabashed glee. Zelda started to peruse each book and Link had sat near Ganondorf, who patted the money bag and had joked, "So crass." Link barely gave him a glance, whatever it took for Ganondorf to accept the money.

Link played till Zelda tired and talked till Ganondorf had nothing else to say. He felt so comfortable in the place, so relaxed, that he eventually fell asleep in the coach in front of the chimney. Last time he had visited at the end of spring, but now it was mid-fall and Ganondorf had a light fire going in the chimney, and Zelda had taken to reading in the carpet in front of it and Link had sat in the couch. He was dozing off soon after, feeling the warmth fill his body, hearing Ganondorf moving around the house, having Zelda's blond hair shine everytime her head tilted enough, and he felt exhausted, and without realizing it, he fell asleep.

When Zelda had come to get a blanket out of the guest room and Ganondorf had asked her if she was cold, she pointed to Link and mouthed that he had fallen asleep. And Gan softened. Link, a soldier through and through could go on without days of sleep and act as if nothing, his movements never dulled, his mind never fogged and Ganondorf had wondered if Link was even Hylian. But he was, just extremely stubborn and filled with a sense of duty that could make him go through grueling task after grueling task with a serene semblance. So as Gan accompanied Zelda and as she draped the blanket around Link, Gan couldn't help the light smile that grew on his face.

⁂

The next morning Zelda was the first to greet Link as he walked outside his bedroom. The fire was already going and she had already claimed her spot in the carpet. Her hair was braided and Link commented on it and received a toothy grin from her, "Daddy made me look pretty." After cleaning himself in his room and letting Zelda know he was going outside she had commented, "Daddy went to the stream!" And that's where Link found him, knees deep in the stream cleaning a bunch of clothes.

"Need help?"

"'M good, thanks!"

Link looked at the shed Ganondorf had promised to do last time he had come and Link then decided it was time to make way for Epona to come.

"Is it really okay for me to make a path here?"

Ganondorf stopped washing and shrugged, "I mean, better now than never and it's high time Zelda gets a chance to leave this place without me."

"What is someone finds you?"

Ganondorf checked a piece of cloth againts the sky and nodded to himself. "Well, that's where you come in, mister "i'm someone important at the Castle""

But Link was not yet someone who could protect neither the Princess of the Kingdom nor a regicide. "I'm still not-"

"Then make sure you do it fast." Ganondorf turned and his face was emotionless, "you promised you would protect her, so how are you going to if you're powerless inside that place?"

"It's not that easy."

"Didn't ask whether it was or not" Link squinted his eyes and had to eat the words that threatened to spill. But Ganondorf was relentless, "Well, what's the worst that could happen, Link? We get found, I'm killed and she's taken, whatever."

Link felt the blood boiling inside him and he couldn't say anything before turning around and going back to the house. Link had to catch himself before storming inside and freaking Zelda out so he breathed in and out a couple of times before actually opening the door. Link was angry for the right reasons, but Ganondorf hadn't said anything that wasn't true either.

Zelda raised her head when Link entered and Link could smile back at her. "I'm going to make a path so Epona can come here."

Zelda's face brightened at the idea of seeing Link's horse at last, but immediately her face sombered. "Did you... ask daddy if you could?"

"Yes."

Zelda's face was unredeable as she stood up and put her book on the shelf again, "Can I go with you?"

Link could feel her uneasiness and only nodded, "We have to go around the forest first and decide where we could make one."

Zelda told Link to wait as she ran outside to let her father know, and although Zelda never kept to herself as they made their rounds and she asked questions Link was more than happy to answer, her face looked worried. After lunch, where Zelda and Ganondorf did their best to look carefree, Zelda and Link went outside again to keep on checking the terrain. Link raised his hand to size up the branches in front of him -they were low enough to bother a horse with a rider, but if he dismounted before going through there would be no problem. Zelda walked abstentmindedly around him and Link couldn't help but ask, "Is there something in your mind?"

Zelda looked up not knowing whether she should feel worried or relieved Link had asked. So she kept silent. But Link walked closer to her and sat beside her, the place they had decided on was the one with low branches and thick bushes. Link was thinking of covering with wood the whole stretch to prevent Epona from hurting her feet and then let nature do its thing and let the bushes cover everything again. As long as the floor was firm and plain in this section, Epona could handle the rest. Link explained his plan to Zelda and made sure to stress the fact that in a couple of months, but for sure before a year, the path they would make would look no different than its surroundings. After another bout of silence, Link tried again, "A rupee for your thoughts?"

And although Link looked at her hoping to get an answer, Zelda smiled and shook her head, "I'm really excited to meet Epona."

So Link smiled back and kept on talking about easier things.

⁂

Ganondorf offered to cut trees and make planks out of them so Link could use after, so Zelda ended up helping Link with his stretch of ground. They started cutting and uprooting bushes and weeds, and also leveling the place. The third day they had devoted solely to that piece of terrain Link stood up, looked around and sighed, "And here I had thought it would be easier."

Zelda giggled as she pulled roots out of the ground. Link wiped the sweat from his forehead and leaned against his shovel, the sun was starting to go down. "Time to go see Epona," he clapped his hands in an attempt to get some dirt off them, "remember to go back to your house before the sun sets, ok?"

Zelda stood too and as she patted her pants she said, "I was thinking that maybe I could accompany you today." She sounded unsure, as if Link could even entertain the idea of telling her that no, she wasn't welcome. Link beamed back at her, "Of course, that's great! Let's let your father know and then we'll be off."

Ganondorf gave a smile as an answer as soon as Zelda finished her sentence, and although Zelda brightened at Gan's immediate response when her eyes laid on Link her face froze slightly. They were off into the woods and Link remained close to her the entire time, offering his hand in rough patches and catching Zelda whenever she stumbled. She would giggle, "It never gets easier."

When they went past their working place Zelda cleared her throat. "So," she started, and Link hoped she was finally going to share with him what was going on in her mind so he only gave back a humm filled with curiosity. "You're my father's friend, right?"

"Correct."

"And you're also a soldier."

"Also correct."

Zelda kept silent again and Link waited for her to keep on talking, but she never did, and by the time they arrived to the road she stared at him for a couple of seconds before smiling wide and shouting "Race you to the village!"

Link only had the time to blink before she was gone and he tried to catch her. Zelda was fast, and although Link had longer legs he never parted with his sword and at this moment in time it was weighing him down substantially. Zelda was laughing out loud when Link caught up to her and when Link lifted her in the air she squealed.

"Caught ya!"

"That's not how you play race!" Zelda said between laughs.

Link slowed down and could feel the heat of the run catching up to him, Zelda let her limbs go limp and patted Link's back, "Let me down," she whined.

"Not if you start running again, no."

Zelda pouted but couldn't help the smile on her face, "Promise," she relented, and Link let her down immediately.

Link was still heaving and his throat was parched, "I need water."

Zelda brightened up and skipped a little, "I can get you some!"

"I'll get some when we get to the barn, no leaving my sight."

Zelda fell silent again, but the smile was still there, "You're even worse than dad."

Link made as if he didn't register what she had said, but he was starting to worry about Zelda's understanding of her life. She was young, and he had thought more unaware of her surroundings, but her eyes crinckled and she looked at Link in a type of understanding he wasn't sure he wanted to see on her.

⁂

Zelda stopped right in front of Epona and told Link with certainty that this was his mare. Link had laughed and had asked whether her father had given her any clues, but Zelda had stared at Epona and had shaken her head no, "just a hunch," she had answered, and Link hurried to let Epona out before Zelda could keep on talking.

Zelda helped brushing Epona while Link cleaned her shed and brought fresh water and food inside it. Link's eyes danced around Zelda and Epona, ever prepared in case something -anything- happened, but Zelda only cooed Epona while his mare tried to nuzzle her whenever she could and whenever he saw Zelda like that the more he couldn't help but feel happy she couldn't remember.

"Wanna try riding her?"

Zelda's mouth hanged open and her eyes went from Link to Epona before nodding furiously, "I don't know how to, though."

Link offered his hand and Zelda was up in the air before she could notice. "I'm not letting you ride her alone," Link instructed Zelda as to how position her legs before he patted Epona's side, "easy, girl." He then offered his hand again and Zelda grabbed it unconsciously, "I'm right here," Link assured her, and as Epona started walking and Zelda's whole body moved with the horse, she clasped Link's hand.

"You can grab her mane."

"Won't it hurt?"

"If you yank on it, maybe, but if you just use it to steady yourself then she'll barely feel it."

Zelda grabbed Epona's mare with the barest of clutches, Zelda looked at Link and he gave her a reassuring smile. From here Zelda could see the barn at her back and the entirety of the corral around them, where a bunch of chickens where running around and a couple of cows stayed away from Epona. "This is great."

"Later we can try this with the saddle on."

Zelda nodded, "okay."

"Want to try going back on your own? I'll guide Epona." Zelda's panic was evident but Link nodded back at her, "I'll be right here," and Zelda gave his hand one last squeeze before letting go.

⁂

Before going back Link wanted to give a visit to Pattrick, just as he usually would, but Zelda's face had frozen the moment he had said that so he had tried to tell her that it wasn't that big of a deal. Zelda had refused vehemently and had yanked at his hand to make him go towards Mira's house.

Pattrick was as welcoming as ever and he opened the door to his home with a grandiose movement, "Lenora is out doing chief stuff," he said to Link, "and Mira is out with Lloyd, I'm afraid," he said to Zelda. Link couldn't help but feel the shift in Zelda's attitude the moment she heard that Mira wasn't there, her shoulders dropped slightly and her eyebrows raised in relaxation. "Oh, that's fine," she said. And Pattrick was none the wiser.

Zelda spent her time checking the books in Lenora's library and sitting in the chair next to Link's, while Pattrick spent the next half an hour sharing his day with Link.

"Also," Pattrick eyed Zelda, unsure if he should put this information out in the open, "I still haven't told Lenora about that big bag of money you gave me."

"Please just take it."

Pattrick wasn't sure how to tell Link about his feeling on receiving a huge amount of money from a young man, but Link was looking at him ready to answer whatever was thrown at him.

"Think of it as money for taking care of Epona."

"We don't charge people for using the barn."

"Then for taking care of me."

Pattrick squinted his eyes, "We haven't... done anything for you."

Zelda put the book on the shelf and turned, "Link, it's getting late."

The sun was long gone and its rays were barely showing. He stood up and gave Pattrick the best impression of an apologetic smile, "What can I do, gotta go."

"Funny."

Pattrick meant to keep on talking but Zelda cut him off, "Uncle Pattrick, maybe you should just say thank you." Pattrick was at a loss for words and Link's half smirk just made him give up.

"I'm at least gonna invite you to a feast one of these days."

"Hey, maybe we can make it so Gan can come too."

Zelda brightened at the mention of her father and Pattrick saw them leave from under his door frame. Zelda grabbed Link's hand on their way back -used to it thanks to the countless times she had gone back to her house with her father- and Link was just happy she felt so comfortable with him so he said nothing.

Mira found them just as she was turning over the corner with Lloyd at her back. Link called over to her and smiled as a greeting, Zelda followed suit but with less enthusiasm. Mira gave a toothy grin and waved but walked past them immediately. Lloyd eyed Zelda but barely glanced at Link, and Link could already feel something amiss. Zelda yanked on Link's hand the next moment, and Link had to forget about Lloyd's red hair and angry eyes. The way back was silent and Link reveled on the wind and the sound of trees moving their branches around.

"Have you ever fought with a friend?"

Link pondered for a second, "I have, yes."

"How did you make up?"

"Well. If it was my mistake then I apologize, if I think it was their mistake I try talking it out." Link then added, "you need a willing partner for that, though."

Zelda kept quiet for a second, and as they were leaving the road, she said, "Mira is mad at me."

"Why is that?"

Zelda had to fight back the need to keep her mouth shut, had to remind herself that this was not only a person she trusted, but a person her father also trusted. That meant something. "She got angry at me because I don't visit the village often."

Link loved the innocence of their quarrel, "Well, maybe after we finish our project you could?"

"She then said that I don't invite her often enough to my house either."

"Well, it is kind of disorienting to walk through the woods."

Zelda stopped walking and Link worried for a second she had hurt herself with a branch. He whispered her name, but then Zelda raised her head and there was mixture of feelings Link wasn't sure what they were.

"I don't want her to come either."

And Link frowned. "Why... is that?"

Link could see the battle inside Zelda, remembered how she had avoided his questions a couple of days ago. Zelda locked eyes with him and searched for something, "I know," she whispered. "I know daddy did something bad."

Link kneeled in front of her, brought both of her hands into his, felt his heart on his throat, "Zelda, I think you should talk with your father first."

"I'm not dumb," she retorted. "Daddy doesn't like going to the village, he doesn't like seeing people, doesn't like meeting people. The only times he goes out are when it's dark and he's covered from head to toe. Mira told me, she told me that the people who come here are running away from past mistakes, her mother said so. She also told me that the people who did really bad things cover themselves and don't like seeing other people and visit her house late into the night, and-" Zelda was frustrated and could feel her words getting stuck, but she needed to tell Link and that made her more upset, and why couldn't her voice cooperate? "Why can't she understand that I don't want her meeting daddy because he did something wrong and he doesn't want other people seeing him and-"

Link's eyes were shining under the moonlight and they looked so worried and so caring that Zelda just jumped into his arms and hugged his neck, "I don't want him to go away, I don't want daddy to leave me alone." Zelda's voice had cracked everywhere and it had been shaky and uneven and her breath was hot against Link's neck and all he could do was hug her back and console her with the sweetest voice he could muster, "Of course he won't," Link said, but his voice was uneven also.

Link carried Zelda all the way left back, and Zelda sniffled every once in a while. "I also know he's not my real dad," she whispered. Barely audible, as if she almost wanted for Link not to hear it, as if it would hurt more if she said it louder. "Lloyd's mom left him after a few years, do you think daddy will leave someday too?"

"He won't. I know." And Zelda wasn't entirely on board, but Link's voice was firm and she decided to trust him on that one.

Link walked into the clearing and headed to a stump near the river that was visible from every part of the house. He sat there and after a couple of minutes he could feel Zelda losing strength. "Are you here to take daddy away?"

"No."

"Are you here to help him?"

"Yes."

Zelda snuggled and made herself more comfortable before settling in, and after a while she fell asleep. Link remained sitting outside for another while, trying his best to make sense of what Zelda's young mind was worried about and what was the best way to reassure her. At some point, Link heard the sound of a door opening and then closing shortly after. Ganondorf was waiting inside when Link went back into the house, he looked worried but remained silent as he watched Link settle Zelda in her bed. When Link stood up and looked back at Ganondorf, the redhead walked up to the bed and took Zelda's shoes off and covered her under her bedclothes.

They stood outside around the dining table for a while. Link gave Ganondorf a short explanation about what had transpired and Ganondorf had to bit his lips. It was going to come sooner or later, she was a kid still, he had wanted for her to be carefree for longer, but somehow, one way or another, she would come to know everything.

"Well," Ganondorf started, but he didn't really know how to continue so silence settled again. "I'm not leaving her," Ganondorf stressed.

"I know."

"But I don't think it's a good idea to tell her what I did."

Link took on of the chairs and sat with his arms crossed, "I agree. This just happened because she got a bunch of information, she was just scared."

Ganondorf followed suit and sat at the table, he dragged his hand accross his face, "What am I supposed to say to her? Will she even want to talk about it? She went to you."

"She was probably scared."

"Then what should I do?"

"Just... she knows a bunch of things already, but the ones that bothered her where mainly how things affected you, so just let her know she can tell Mira to come? Do you mind if she comes?"

"I mean, do I want her coming? Not particularly, but if Zelda is going through this just because of that, I don't fucking care, she can come and stay for all I care."

"Well, that's one thing off the list."

"I'm not leaving her," Ganondorf looked unsure as to how that even crossed Zelda's mind, "I've never showed ever even the slightest of thoughts regarding that. I has never even crossed my mind."

Link raised his eyebrows, "Well, that looks to me like a fear born out of having Lloyd's situation in front of her and probably hearing people talking about you and her, you can't control that, you just gotta give it time."

Ganondorf gave a deep sigh and the way the lights of the candle played in his face somehow deepened his frown.

"You can always talk to her tomorrow about it and hug it out. I think she needs one."

Ganondorf nodded and gave a tired smirk. Who would have thought that big bad Ganondorf would someday placate all of Zelda's worries with a hug. He would give her a hundred if it meant having her happy. He presssed his fingers to his temple and sighed, he felt half-happy Zelda could feel all of this for him, half-terrified Zelda could feel all of this for him. She should have had a happy, warm family that would have adored her while also being surrounded by a Kingdom that would revere her. He should have had a life with the Gerudo, a harsh life surrounded by the desert but filled with his people and all the love he knew he would need. And yes, that would have never happened either way because he was destined to rage and destroy, and even if he had wanted to never remember, his life would have been filled with obstacles, but maybe that would have been better? Maybe then Zelda would have had had a happy life at least. Maybe he should have just left her in that crib and let Link find him alone in the forest down the line...

Link put his hand on Ganondorf's shoulder and got him out of his trance, "Don't go there," he whispered, and Ganondorf had to close his eyes, because Goddesses, how was he supposed to forgive what they were putting them through?

⁂

Zelda woke up the next day and stayed in her bed listening. She could hear Link and her father going around the house and speaking in low voices so as to not wake her up. Zelda remembered what she had told Link and wondered how her father would look at her now. Zelda could only feel anxious, but there was no dread nor pain in her chest so she scrambled out of her bed and went outside before those feeling could catch up to her.

Her father saw her and greeted her just like any other day and as she sat at the table to eat breakfast, Zelda started to have doubts regarding what had happened yesterday. But after Link had gone outside to keep on leveling the ground for Epona, her father remained quiet and Zelda knew he was thinking about her.

He was nervous and stumbled upon his words but he wanted to assure her that she ought to do what she wanted to do without caring about him at all. "I love you with all my heart," and at that point Zelda couldn't fight her tears, "You are my daughter and I want you to be happy. So just do what you need to do, we'll figure the rest out."

His words had a severity Zelda treasured in her heart and she buried her face on her father's stomach, who caressed her hair with his warm hands. "I'm never leaving you," Zelda said, and as her father brought her into his arms and whispered, "That's my phrase, love, I'm never leaving you," Zelda had to keep herself from weeping.

Link raised his head and saw Zelda smiling at him. Disheveled, red eyed and still snifling, but smiling. "Daddy said I could start bringing you some planks to see how they fit."

"Do you need help?"

Zelda ran back, shouting her answer, "I can do it myself!"

That night, after Zelda had fallen asleep, Ganondorf walked to where Link was sitting and dropped himself on the chair nearby, his mouth was a line and he hunched over. "I'm scared."

Link brought a hand to Ganondorf's arm, "What for?"

"What's going to happen in a few years, huh?" Ganondorf could feel a cold grip around his heart thinking about Zelda confronting him about... everything. What use were his good intentions if their life was built in lies? Link put strenght behind his touch and Ganondorf could barely whisper, "I'm scared, Link."

And there weren't many words one could say to reassure a man who had done the things Ganondorf had done to the parents of the child he was raising. But Link had to try,"Whatever happnes, I'll be here."

⁂

As Link took a chug of water, Zelda appeared from behind the trees. They were a few days away from putting the final planks in place and Zelda had been the best source of mental support Link would have ever wished for. Any time Link would complain for the umpteenth time, Zelda would giggle or shout encouragements at him. As the days had gone by though, her energy had dwindled somewhat and today Zelda stood firm in front of him, and Link was glad now it was his turn to become a source of encouragement to her.

"I can't help you today," she stated and Link had to quickly clean his mouth with his arm because he was nodding before he could say, "Sure."

"I already told dad," Zelda said, and she turned and left.

"Good luck!"

Zelda smiled as she started the trek to the village. Her mission was simple, stand before Mira and tell her that she had been right and wrong about what she had said. "I'll come more often, but I want you to know that it hurts me when you say bad things about dad," Zelda practiced under her breath. Even if he's not my real dad, even if he did bad things. Don't badmouth him.

Simple.

Zelda walked with purpose all the way up until the entrance to the village. There, her mind froze and her legs wobbled. If Mira didn't accept her apology then... then...

Zelda decided that some things were better left up in the air unless it actually happened, so she forced her legs to keep on walking. If Mira was with Lloyd, Zelda would wait. She liked Lloyd, he was funny, but this was for Mira alone. Her friend.

Zelda turned to enter the road to Mira's house and she saw uncle Pattrick tending to the flowers, her heart beat and Zelda was sure anyone could hear it if they stood close enough. Somehow, her legs brought her to the garden and somehow she managed to squeak a greeting. Uncle Pattrick gave her a tender smile and Zelda couldn't help but be reminded of Link's, and she knew that uncle Pattrick was in on her fight with Mira. Uncle Pattrick left her in the garden as he went back and called for Mira and Zelda had to understand that it was only fair for Mira to tell her parents about their situations if even Zelda herself had had no other choice but to find solace in Link and her dad.

Mira came out with an attitude Zelda had never seen on her. Subdued somewhat, calm, Mira's eyes could barely lock with hers and Zelda started to feel bolder by the minute. Uncle Pattrick had had the care to stay away from earshot so Zelda's voice came out steady, "Do you think we can talk?"

Mira smiled and nodded and grabbed Zelda's arm and brought her to the farthest patch of grass on her house. Mira could only feel relief and as soon as Zelda opened her mouth, Mira raised her hands. Zelda had come all the way here, it was Mira's turn to show she cared. "Let me speak first, please."

Mira had been mad and had blamed Zelda for not caring enough. It helped that Lloyd was jealous Zelda wouldn't hang with them and fanned the flames of Mira's anger. But Lenora, Mira's mother, had brought her back to bed one night after listening to her story and had combed Mira's hair with her hand. Now, why are you mad, she had asked, and Mira had had to come clean about wanting to spend more time with her friend but not receiving the kind of answer she had wanted. And have you talked again? Mira pouted and tried to explain how Zelda's answer had made her feel and how her answer had been to shut herself off. Do you really think Zelda doesn't want to spend time with you? No, not really. She was nice and cared enough about Mira to send her letters through her father if they didn't meet enough and she was kind enough to go along with Mira's whims. Zelda had been nothing but kind and Mira had been... jealous.

"I'm sorry," Mira lowered her head, unable to lock eyes with Zelda. "I was being dumb and I'm sorry."

Zelda could feel relief washing all over her and she could only nod along Mira, because sure she had been dumb, but Zelda had also been stubborn and, "I'm sorry, too. I will try to come more often."

Mira straightened and looked straight at Zelda's chest. "It's all right, you don't have to-"

"I want to, though. Dad," Zelda had to force her words out, "doesn't really like meeting new people or seeing people he doesn't feel comfortable enough so I'm really sorry I can't invite you to my house as much as you want to, but I promise to come more often."

Mira thinned her lips, "I'm sorry I said mean things about your dad."

Whenever it came to her dad, Zelda could feel a flaming hand ready to lash out inside her heart, but now she controlled it, "I... just don't want you to say those things anymore."

Mira nodded, "I won't," Lenora had sat her in her legs, how would you feel if Zelda said mean things about us? Mira snapped her head towards her mother and realized how much she had hurt her friend, "I'm sorry about that, too."

Both kept their eyes fixed anywhere but the other's eyes. "Link," Zelda started and Mira had to snuff out the start of jealousy in the pit of her stomach, "is making it easier to come and go from my house to the village, so I'll be able to come alone sometimes."

Mira had to blink at that, "You can always write me and I could meet you halfway."

And finally Mira looked at Zelda and Zelda looked at Mira and they smiled.

"Okay."

⁂

The moment Zelda heard sound coming from Link's room she rushed there.

"Link!"

Link was fresh out of sleep and he gave her the best attempt of a smile he could at this hour.

"Today we go get Epona!"

"We do," Link answered and he ruffled her hair before going to the bathroom outside.

Zelda followed behind him but stopped at the door, "You promised today I could ride Epona on the way back!"

And Link had to smirk at Zelda's unabashed glee, "I did!"

Zelda could barely keep herself on the chair during breakfast and the moment Link decided it was time to go get Epona, Zelda bolted outside. She walked in front of Link, making this trek as if she were alone, practicing for when she would do so to go see Mira.

"You have to remember to tell her and your father before you go."

"I know!"

When they stepped into the planks, Zelda started skipping and Link looked at the finished job with pride. "The shrubbery will grow back, you gotta remember where this is."

"I know!"

Link looked to the stretch of land that hadn't been touched and remembered all the rocks they had moved, all the weeds they had pulled, all the bushes they had cut. He was glad from now on his steps could be more confident through this patch and that somehow, this helped Zelda make up with Mira. Zelda hadn't said much that day, she had just told them she was planning on visiting Mira someday in the future alone. Ganondorf had just nodded and had reassured her that he could go as long as she gave him a heads up, made sure to tell Mira and returned before sundown.

Zelda stumbled in the way and Link had to force himself to stay away.

"How are you going to take care of those things for Epona?"

Link looked at Zelda and pointed at his back, where he strapped his sword.

"Oh," she giggled.

Mira was playing with the chickens when she heard Zelda and Link talking.

"So slow!" she laughed, and Zelda came running to hug her.

Link focused on getting Epona out and putting on her saddle while Zelda and Mira talked. And as soon as Mira saw him ready to depart she tried her best poor me face to ask, "Can I ride with Zelda for a while?"

"Of course."

Since Pattrick and Lenora were going around the village and Link couldn't go to their house, they started the way back soon after with Mira and Zelda riding Epona. The girls laughed and pointed at things they usually didn't see from their original heights and Link felt a little disappointed the village was so small and Mira had to get down so soon. Mira gave Link her thanks for letting her ride Epona and waved as they kept on going through the road.

"Mira is using the dress you gave her next festival."

Link racked his brain trying to remember talks about a festival in the village and Zelda must have realized his cluelessness because she explained immediately. "Next village," she clarified, "it's bigger than ours and they celebrate Summer and Winter with a festival at the end of December and June. Don't you...? At Castletown, don't you celebrate?"

Link panicked at the thought that Zelda would know he was overworking himself so he rushed himself to answer, "Ah, no. Well, they do have celebrations, you know? A bunch of them, I sometimes see them and have no idea what the festival is about. But yes, they do have festivals for Summer and Winter, Guile is always eager to go, Ashei and I are more reserved, I guess."

Zelda realized she knew next to nothing about Link's life in Castletown, and she felt she wanted to know, "Is Guile a friend?"

And Link could deny her nothing, so they spent the way back talking about Link's work and friends. Who amounted to Ashei and Guile and his family.

Zelda opened her eyes and looked worried, "I didn't know..."

No one really knew, thought Link. Ganondorf had asked everything about Link soon after meeting again, but Link wasn't much into sharing his life with people. "Oh, don't worry, it happened a long time ago and my uncle has been nothing short of a father."

Zelda, who had little experience with such heavy topics and could somewhat sense Link's feeling, wanted to go back to something easier to talk about. "Uhm, you know, next time you should come to the festival, Link. Mira always goes."

Link helped Zelda dismount from Epona before going through the planks. "And you?"

"I haven't gone yet."

"What about this one?"

Zelda played with her fingers, "I don't want to leave daddy alone."

"How about," Link pressed his hand on Zelda's shoulder, "next time I come on time for the festival and you go with Mira and I stay with your dad?"

Zelda tried to supress her excitement at the idea of going, "You don't have to."

Link ruffled her hair, "I insist." Link then straightened and made as if thinking, "You know what? I actually made up my mind, that's what I'm doing, next year I'm comming in time for one of them, make preparations."

Zelda jumped in place and grabbed Link's arm out of joy, "Link!"

"I'm talking with Gan when we arrive, okay?"

And Zelda grinned and skipped all the way left back.

⁂

"Zelda!" Mira opened her arms in a dramatic fashion before bolting towards Zelda. The days were getting colder by the minute and both Zelda and Mira had decided to see each other the first day the sun shined on any given week. No need for letters on winter, when soon they would have to lock themselves up due to either rain or snow.

Link had left a few weeks back and Mira had been ecstatic at the idea of having Zelda go to one of the festivals next year.

"You think he'll make it to this Summer Festival?"

"He did say next year, so I don't think so."

"Well, one can always hope!"

Lloyd was waiting for them back at Mira's house, warm milk in hand and he gave a lazy wave as a greeting. Mira's excitement levels went off the roof at having her two friend in her house and she pushed them both to her room immediately. "We need to plan!" Mira had grinned and Lloyd looked confused as to what she was talking about.

"Zelda is coming with us to one of the festivals next year, and we have to plan!"

Lloyd turned to Zelda and squinted his eyes at the information. How, he thought, aware of Zelda's feeling about leaving her father behind.

And Mira answered, "Link is coming to help!" Knowing Link had not only helped with their reconciliation, but also that he was the direct cause of Zelda accepting to attend one of the festivals made Mira adore the young man even more than before.

But Lloyd was still coming to terms with Link, "Oh, so now you've fallen too."

Mira had raised her head from the crude drawing she was making of the stalls at the festival -an attempt to help Zelda visualize the magnificence of what she was going to experience and to help her decide which places would be crowded and what places she would want to visit- and frowned, "Lloyd, don't be childish."

Lloyd had to hide the frustration bubbling up inside him. He was not going to keep on arguing about Link, not if he could help it.

Mira kept her head down so she couldn't see Lloyd's inhumane attempt at politeness, "'S not like you could ever be better than him," but she knew how much Link bothered him, so she raised her drawing for them to see and gave out a humongous laugh.

#the legend of zelda #fanfic #fanfiction #zelink #linkxzelda #link x Zelda #link #zelda #ganondorf #when wisdom sleeps #ch.2

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irageneveart · 5 years

Note

Following on this horror theme what about MC showing the RFA the horror classic The Thing? Maybe when they went on that vacation, she sit all of them together to watch her favorite movie, what would be their reaction? I feel like Jumin would understand the end of the movie but what about the rest? 😂 Thanks! Is great to get to know another horror fan!

hi hi hi!! it’s so nice when other people combine fandoms through me (mysme + horror in this case) and I’m honored 🧡

usually I am faster with HCs but I had to rewatch the movie and my weekdays are hella tiring, but here we are!

thank you for your request and I hope you’ll enjoy! o/ this turned out in a drabble with bullet points lol, sorry it’s a tiny bit long (1200 words!)

RFA Watching John Carpenter’s The Thing

the first snow has fallen and by tradition RFA is spending few days at a resort between the mountains

winter break is something they all agreed on, part of their job, planning the next year and looking back at the year that almost passed, but also because spending time with your friends and family is important

the resort is a beautiful place, as expected being rented by Jumin, and it’s completely theirs. some of them want to spend the time skiing, while others are enjoying the fire cracking inside and the smell of an old book. regardless of their activity all of them engaged in a snow fight started by Zen and Jumin, or some snow pranks set up by Seven

everybody was surprised when Jumin actually responded to Zen’s snowball, but no one expected him to win as well. Zen’s nose was red for hours afterwards

this night was on the slower side. outside, the wind was raging and they could barely see anything due to the snow storm. the sounds were loud against the wooden cabin and the fire was wildly dancing in the chimney. Yoosung was feeling nauseous, what if the cabin falls apart??

V came by earlier with a box of different things the RFA could use while in the holiday. movies, a karaoke set, chess and many others. however he excused himself and left before anyone could bring up that maybe he should stay. some things never change

everybody was in the living room, minding their own business scattered around the room. the raging storm outside was enough of a background sound

“Let’s get over these long faces, let’s watch a movie!” MC broke the silence after scavenging through the box V brought. she was holding “The Thing” with John Carpenter’s name written in golden bold letters on top of it.

While Zen recognized the director’s name, a big one in the film industry, Jumin was one to name some of his cinematic masterpieces

Saeyoung tried to spook Yoosung with how gory and disturbing the movie is, while Saeran told him is a very simple and easily predictable movie. poor boy didn’t know who to listen anymore

after few more arrangements and pleas because Jaehee and Vanderwood weren’t too keen to watch it, they finally settled down and put the movie on

not even 10 min through and Seven, who already knew the movie plus all 4 endings, started to tease what was coming next. not enough to be spoiler but subtle enough to be annoying. Vanderwood had to stay the rest of the movie beside him, threatening him with a taser. you speak, you’re getting tased

the first half of the movie was pretty quiet, everybody was trying to understand what was going on. Yoosung and MC were the only ones loudly whining and complaining, what it’s wrong with that guy trying to shoot a dog

When the truth came out and the dog transformed, there were loud different reactions. Zen raised his eyebrows in a disgusted grimace, Jumin expected the dog to be different, but not to transform. Seven wanted to explain how that was made, but Vanderwood didn’t have any of it. Needless to say Yoosung and MC were the only ones to cover their eyes, Jaehee being visibly engrossed by the visual but still watching it

Saeran was the only one who said “cool” lmao. He knew the movie, surprisingly, but didn’t remember much of it

Now as the movie processed and the tension settled in, everybody made their own assumptions about who will change next. Vanderwood, although not knowing the movie and also not expressing his opinion out loud, he made the right assumptions about who will transform next almost every time

Zen was almost ready to bet Clark wasn’t guilty. He isn’t one to know psychology or anything, but he knows when someone is hiding something

MC and Jaehee, seeing Zen so into the movie knowing how picky he is with actors and acting in general, were exchanging quiet glances filled with pride

Jumin and Zen were having a very interesting debate on who will transform next. Nothing like they usually do, it was a normal conversation while both of them were focused on the movie and calmly stating their opinion. quite a sight

Not one to enjoy horror movies too much, Jaehee found herself emerged into the movie as well. There was something about the acting, it felt natural, minus the extraterrestrial thing their reactions were accurate. Fear and paranoia can drive people crazy

Poor Yoosung whenever someone else transformed he was visibly sad. “Noooo he was a kind man”; “Nooo why did he have to die”; “What, he dies too?? Noooo”

The most uncomfortable moment was Fuchs’ transformation and screech. The sound he made raised the hairs on their arms for almost everybody

Most of them doubted Blair is infected, until they found out he escaped on his own. It was clear he’s a thing now and most likely “the final boss” as Saeran put it, Yoosung eagerly agreeing at the terminology

As the movie was getting close to an end, everybody had one last question: is MacReady infected or not?

The big finale ended and the black screen settled in, leaving Childs and MacReady endlessly waiting for their death

“Wait what? That’s all??” I feel you Yoosung

Jumin was thinking. “Indeed.” he said out of nowhere, taking the attention to everyone. Tell us juju

“John Howard Carpenter is truly a genius in the film industry. Childs’ mystery, the ending leaving us hanging even when we do know what will come next, the information we lack making us need more… I am pleased. MC, you were quite inspired to choose this movie, I thank you. I must thank V for bringing it to us, as well. Please excuse me.”

Wait wait juju where are you going. He literally just left everyone in a dead silence

Now that the movie was over Seven loudly inhaled and then started to spit out everything he knew about the movie. Tasing? Tickling? Slapping? He was quiet the entire movie do you really think anything will stop him now?

Yoosung would have loved the alternate ending, where MacReady was waking up in a hospital, while Saeran said he liked this one better, there was no need to show us a real ending. This feels better

Jaehee wasn’t sure that was the ending, because something was bothering her: MacReady’s breath was so visible that it was almost covering his entire face in the final shot, while Childs seemed like he wasn’t breathing at all. MC and Zen backed her on this, both of them noticing the same thing. assuming that Childs was actually The Thing makes all of their deaths to be in vain. The Thing won

Vanderwood leaned towards Jaehee’s theory, but he was too busy trying to make Saeyoung to shut up with his trivia attack

The debating continued later that night when they ate together, everybody stating their opinion or bringing new ideas of endings, laughing and enjoying their winter break

Outside the blizzard had burned out, small snowflakes still lingering in the air, afraid to come closer and touch the cold ground, afraid to forever disappear within the cruel white tapestry of nature

#ira geneve #rfa headcanons #zen hyun ryu #yoosung kim #jumin han #saeyoung choi #jaehee kang #mystic messenger #the thing 1982 #anon request #my writing #writing request

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mercurytail · 6 years

Text

Shifting Sands Chapter two

Here it is guys! Chapter two! A quick Thank you to @the-hallowed-lady for betaing, and @bluandorange for supporting my creative en devours.

Without further ado, Enjoy!

Shifting Sands Chapter 2

(Important: Elemental magic. Hanzo possesses two elements; wind and lightning. He can manipulate the space and air around him, but much like McCree he cannot control more than the mass of his own body. Unlike McCree he cannot turn into wind, though he can turn into lightning for short spurts of time, but it is dangerous and he cannot fully control its pathway.)

The stars above sing shyly as they fight against the bright light of the city. Towering glass giants hog the dark sky. Their glowing white sides shine over the world below. The streets are a plethora of tiny illuminations battling for space. The nightlife booms, as crowds of people scurry from neon to neon, club music adrift in the air.

Hanzo toys with his wireless earpiece, Beethoven symphony number 5 playing near silently as he quietly hums along. Crouching down on the third-floor fire escape, he eyes the alley below. A siren blares past out on the road. He waits; his pursuers should come any moment. He checks his bow. Notches an arrow.

He knew it had been a set-up; taking such a high-end job in a place like Stuttgart. The last ten years of constant movement having sharpened his senses. Axel Moldenhauer had been playing him from the beginning. The well-established businessmen, or rather illegal weapons trafficker, had contacted Hanzo a month ago with an offer of half a million to dispatch of a rival of his here in the city. Hanzo had come not for the money but for the distraction, needing to escape his mind due to recent events. It was along the way to his ultimate destination anyway. As the symphony crescendos, he leans on the wall behind him.

***

McCree sets up in his chair and rolls his neck. It makes a loud crack, ‘Gah! That’s what I get for sleepin’ in the chair’. He looks at his holoscreen, its late morning. The Sun shines brightly in the sky.

He stands and stretches his back reaching his hands up toward the ceiling. He picks up his hat from where it had fallen the night before and places it in the chair. He walks to his shower and strips. As the fabric slides off old scars come into view, littering his soft toned body. A thin layer of course hair present over his chest, arms, and thighs. McCree plays with his happy trail. He rather likes that part of himself. His eyes sweep over to his prosthetic. He sneers at it. He then removes it to places it on the side table.

He turns the nob and stands in the cold spray as it slowly heats up. He washes quickly and rushes to the other room for a change of clothes. He slides on a clean pair of boxer briefs and then pulls out his tan serape and blue plaid short-sleeved shirt. He slips those on along with his jeans from yesterday He turns to the door and his bare feet slap the floor as he saunters into the kitchen.

***

Hanzo sips from his flask, having bought a lovely bottle of Nigori Sake from a quaint shop he had found the night before.

Hanzo had met with Axel and taken the down payment. The day before the job was to be carried out; he had intended to enjoy himself. He’d spent that morning shopping in the mall district, trying on various articles of clothing when he’d been ambush between shops as he took a side street. He had quickly and cleanly dispatched of his assailants and made his escape, but not before one had slipped a tracker onto him. Said tracker lay near the dead end of the alleyway below. He had run back toward the busier part of the city for cover to stave off their assault till nightfall.

He had kept a sharp eye out that afternoon, while he enjoyed eating a pint of mint and green tea ice-cream at a corner cafe. He knew they’d be watching when he finally took a taxi to the night district and walked into a club with a bright yellow neon archway. With the music sickeningly loud he had found the back door and snuck out. He’d surveyed the landscape and chose his perch.

***

McCree opens his mini fridge; a cool breeze hit his face. He pulls out an avocado, a tomato, and some bacon. Laying them on the counter he reaches to his bread box and pulls out two slices of rye bread. They’re dry. ‘Tch’ I’ll have to toast um’. He pushes the lever on his toaster down and listens to it tick. Pulling out an iron pan he lays three strips of bacon to start as he slices the tomato and avocado thinly.

The toaster dings and he places the slices on a ceramic plate. He returns to the fridge and grabs the mayo. He smears on a thick layer of mayo along with the bacon, two slices of tomato, and half of the avocado. He lifts it to his nose and smells the crispy bacon, then takes a bite. While eating he walks over to the hanging sandbag in the far corner behind his chair. He munches on the last morsel of his sandwich as he begins shifting lightly on his feet.

Fists at the ready he bats at the sack steadily breaking a sweat as he boxes it. Soaking into the experience, he imagines a thick figure looming over him, swinging back at him. He dodges and strikes back again and again. The air-conditioner suddenly kicks on and catches him off guard, He bursts into dust scattering about the room. The sand settles and a chuckle resonates around the room. McCree slowly reforms, a smile on his lips that reaches his eyes.

***

Six men dressed to the teeth in all black creep around the end of the alley. Pulse rifles aimed at the black abyss ahead. An arrow whistles in the air and lodges in the throat of the first grunt. The guns are raised and shots are fired at the fire escape as another arrow fells the second man.

Hanzo rolls back, barely dodging a bullet aimed for his leg. He leaps to the wall across the gap and scales it effortlessly, lifting himself up onto the roof above. Shots ring out chasing him over the edge. Hanzo slides over to a wall for cover and readies another arrow. Not much later, a jumble of boots sounds in the stairwell. The men bust out onto the landing.

Hanzo lunges at the fourth man. Wrapping him in a choke hold that near instantly snaps his neck and fires an arrow at the third man, dropping him. He flips the dead body of the fourth man into the second man, all the while lining up another arrow for the remaining gunman. The first man drops, and Hanzo quickly pulls out his ankle knife to slit the throat of the second man before he can even get back to his feet. Hanzo whips around bow at the ready aiming it at the entrance where a semi-automatic is poised at his face.

“Never be the first man out, isn’t that how it works, Hanzo?” Axel stands over him, a wide toothy grin on his tanned face. His blond hair shines even in the dim moonlight.

Hanzo gives him a sly grin, “Hm’”.

***

McCree chugs a bottle of water as he wipes off the sweat with a towel. He chooses to forgo his hat for the day. ‘Can’t have it flyin’ off’. As he slicks his hair back a few tendrils of it stubbornly hang in his view. He walks around to the back of his shack and unlocks the iron hatch leading to a small basement. The hatch screeches as it opens.

A souped-up red Norton Atlas glimmers up at him. God, he loved this bike. With it being so hard to get a hold of in this day and age making it even more worth hunting it down. Getting it equipped enough to be able to stand up to today’s line up while preserving the beauty was even harder. His prized jewel - second only to Peacekeeper.

McCree hauls his baby out onto the road and saddles her, feeling the seat give under him. He grabs the handles and savours the feel, trailing his eyes over her. He puts the key into the on position and kicks her on. A satisfying low rumble comes up around him. Setting back in the seat he shifts her into gear and rides off towards the jagged horizon, dust kicking up in his wake.

***

Axel stalks left, keeping his rifle levelled at Hanzo, “You know, I thought a man such as you - one of the most wanted men in the underworld - would be a bit harder to get a hold of.”

Hanzo follows him, bow pulled taut, “A smart man is seen only when he desires to be.”

Axel’s eyes narrow in an icy glare. “I knew once I got you here it would be difficult to detain you, even though you’ve no access to an armoury or outside assistance. To think you would cut so easily through not one, but two… two groups of my elite men so swiftly in a single day. I must say, I am impressed.”

Hanzo knew the man was stalling. He needed to dispatch of him and flee quickly…but his haughty nature clouded his judgement, a weakness he could not surmount. “Your flattery brings me no mirth.” He stands and kicks at the body near his feet. “They fall before me one after another; the infamous Mr. Moldenhauer produces such a weak challenge. I fear I chose an unsuitable timepass.” Hanzo casts a pretentious smile toward Axel.

Axel seethes in anger, he pulls in air threw his teeth, “Your arrogance is founded upon your skill, but I assure you, I do not disappoint.”

***

McCree rides up to an old iron gate along a long barbed-wire fence and shuts off his bike. He unsaddles his bike and walks it up the dirt drive to Mrs. Shewmore’s homestead.

A brown barn sat just up the hill from the white farmhouse. A red brick chimney ran up the left side of the house, to the right the master bedroom window and above that the sole second story room of the house, the sewing room. Its green roof still looking sturdy, McCree having refurbished it himself not too long ago, a rooster wind vane squeaking cheerily on top. Its small front porch nestled in the center; just room enough for two rocking chairs. The front door was sidled up between two windows. Country radio floats easily through the screen door. McCree leaves his bike by the front step and walks up.

The kind elderly lady owned the land his little shack resided on and she was bold and hardened enough to frighten off anyone that got a mind to come hunting for him. So, from time to time he came and offered a helping hand or simply good company.

“Mrs. Shewmore,” McCree hollered into the house, “you around?”

***

Hanzo readies himself in a fighting crouch. Axel hardens his stance.

“Let us see if you can amuse me,” Hanzo pauses, narrowing his eyes “Pest!”

Axel roars, rifle in hand cracking to life, Hanzo dives to a kneeling crouch, a sweeping kick places Axel sprawling on his back, the rifle clatters to the ground several feet away. Hanzo twists posing to cut deep into Axel’s throat. Hanzo’s knife nicks the skin of Axel’s collarbone as Axel kicks, sending Hanzo flying overhead landing on his head. Disoriented, Hanzo tumbles over to all fours, vision swimming. Axel turns, kneeling, and then lunges at Hanzo. They roll toward the edge. Axel pins Hanzo by the throat, Hanzo nails him in the jaw, but Axel seizes his wrist, pressing his arm over the edge nearly breaking his forearm. Hanzo grits his teeth as their noses connect with an audible crack. Hanzo pulls in the air around him building its pressure. He releases it forward all at once. The solid wall of wind collides with Axel, sending him flying across the roof, pulling the air from his lungs.

Their separation allows Hanzo enough clarity to hear the shuffling in the stairwell. He dives for Storm bow. He turns and casts an arrow; the first man out falls. Axel laughs harshly, hauling himself to his feet, “what now Shimada?”

Men spill onto the roof, Hanzo rakes his hands across the space between him and the assault, a gust of wind spirals around him deflecting the bullets and lifting him into the air. He air hops twice towards the edge, seemingly floating in the air over the dark space below. Hanzo swiftly draws his bow, last arrow at hand.

“Ryū ga waga teki wo kurau!” The dragons erupt to life. Lightning, gales, and death follows in their wake.

Hanzo lands softly in the alley below. He swiftly collects the two arrows from the two kills earlier; he then sprints toward the forest outside the city. ‘He will lose them there’.

***

A small scuffle echoes out from the back kitchen. The short woman steps out and walks to the door unlatching it to letting McCree in, her short white hair bobbing all the way. Inside, the two-seater couch sits in front of the fireplace, with a white armchair to its right. A hand knitted quilt lay over the back of the couch, little pillows at both ends. A yellowed carpet rug rests under the brown coffee table, a single teacup resting atop it. On the Mantle sets a collection of clocks and music boxes, above them a picture of Mr Shewmore. The stubborn man had been a good friend of his. Rest his soul. Past the living room sat the kitchen. Stained pine cabinets wrapped around the wall above the counter. The stove on the left wall, with the sink two paces right, on the back wall, a small window rest above it, looking out toward the barn. Straight ahead was the back door, to its right the four-person dining table adorned with a white lace doily and three mini gold chickens. The house smelled heavenly, a mixture of potpourri and southern cooking.

“Jesse? I was beginnin’ ta’ think my greens would wilt ‘fore you’d show up.” She reaches up and places her hand on his cheek tenderly and pats twice, giving him a mischievous eye. Her wise smile is ever-present. McCree smiles down at her, “Sorry Ma’am, I had to take care of somethin’ awful important.” He’d planned on visiting the day before, unfortunately Sammy got in the way of that.

“Well, now that yer’ here, I could use your big hands.” She motions for him to follow. They turn right and head into the bedroom.

***

The crickets and cicadas create a chorus of white noise throughout the forest. Flashlights glare creating tall shadows among the evergreens. Dogs echo through the underbrush behind him as Hanzo leaps from branch to branch.

The sounds of men inch closer as he slows from exhaustion; he spins air underfoot giving leverage to further his reach. A stone wall soon comes into view; He bounds forward and clings to it then begins to climb. Near the top, the wall crumbles. He thrusts the immediate air around him out with intense force to cushion his landing into the ruins below.

The remains of the building he lands in have no roof. Moss grows on the rubble at his feet. He falters out into the ghostly streets. He spares a few seconds to look around. The cobblestone streets are cracked and frayed. The remains of bastion units litter the entire hamlet. ‘Eichenwalde, such a place of sadness’.

*Snap*

Malicious growls sound behind him. Hanzo barely responds in time to bat the bounding dog away. Three others follow the first shortly thereafter. Hanzo kites back, readying his bow. His eyes glow with a blue hue as he pulls the string taut. “Swift as the wind,” an ethereal arrow made of wind forms in the arrow rest. Hanzo flips back and releases four swift shots, each ethereal arrow finding its mark. All four dogs slump to the ground.

Hanzo collapses to the ground, needles pricking his lungs. Exhaustion clings to him tirelessly. Several men appear near the stone wall and take fire at him. Hanzo rolls behind a bastion unit for cover. He breathes thrice then with a desperate gasp of breath, sprints toward the castle in the distance.

***

The door to the small ensuite bathroom squeaks as they enter. White tiles line the floor. A toilet sits to the immediate left, beside it a four-legged tub with a metal shower head poised over it. Straight ahead is a window with Peach curtains, the shutters are drawn. To the right the sink, perched above it an old fashion medicine cabinet.

“Now this darn thing’s been leakin’ on me two weeks now,” Mrs. Shewmore bends at the waist and fiddles with the piping under the sink “It’s started to soak the carpet era’ time I go to brush m’ teeth. Be a dear and fix it for me won’t ya?”

“I’ll see what I can do ma’am.” McCree gets to one knee and eyes the pipes. He lies down on his back and begins twisting the cracked curve pipe loose.

“I’ll fetch you the toolbox from the shed.” as she scuffles out, McCree leans his head against the wall. He tugs at the pipe uselessly. He sighs then closes his eyes; he opens them and gazes toward the window. He appreciates the old lady’s company, but a man that’s been alone as long as he has feels a sense of longing not so easily filled.

Mrs. Shewmore returns with the toolbox and a tall glass of fresh lemonade.

***

Hanzo busts in a side door on the castle. Cobwebs and dust tangle in his hair, loose and matting with the sweat on his brow. Bullets pelt the stone overhead. He slides under the remains of an old table just right of the entryway; glass bottles lay scattered on its surface. Two men stalk in. Hanzo jabs the knee out from under the first man. As they fall, he stabs the leg of the second and seizes his gun. He fires two killing shots into each. He keeps the gun. Eight rounds left.

A horde of men come through the doorway and he makes a dash for the main hall. Moonlight filters in through the hole in the ceiling. A decaying set of crusader armor graces the throne at the end of the hall, hammer at its side. He nods his head with respect to the fallen, and quickly scales the staircase behind it. He soon breaks out on the mossy green stone of the roof. Mindful of the timid structure he scales to a higher plateau aiming to leap for the nearest tree to make his escape. With such a sheer drop, none of them would be able to pursue him further.

Several men bust out onto the roof, followed closely by Axel. Hanzo poised to jump, gives a farewell wave.

“SHIMADA!” Axel yells echoing throughout the night. A disk of ice careens through the air toward him, a bomb’s shrill cry exiting its center.

***

The wrench rattles as McCree tightens the new pipe into place. He wipes the sweat from his brow with a cloth given to him. He stands and turns on both nobs to the sink. Next, he crouches to watch the pipes. Satisfied he leaves the bathroom. “All patched up ma’am,” he says as he walks, toolbox in hand, back to the main room of the house.

“Thank you dear, now come and eat,” she motions to the plate resting on the table. A large bone-in pork chop adorns the majority of the ceramic with boiled greens at its side. Pork jaw mingled in the dark emerald slump. McCree sets down in the chair and cuts himself a thick slice of cornbread. He eats quietly and quickly while Mrs. Shewmore busies herself with the dishes. When he finishes he stand and take the dishes to the sink. He then walks to the door.

“Well, ma’am I best get on the road, Thank you kindly for the meal.” Mrs. Shewmore hugs him and hands him a jar of peach preserves as he leaves. He places the jar in the saddlebag on the Atlas then walks her out to the gate and climbs on. He peers back up at the house, lights shine from the window in the dimming light of the setting sun. He kicks on the bike and rides home.

McCree stows his bike away and walks to the front of the shack. He walks in and places the peaches in the cupboard above the stove. Turning he walks to the little side table and takes the bourbon from yesterday in hand. He settles down into his chair and pours himself a glass, dry. He takes a sip, and stares out the window, watching as the sand starts to kick up, a sandstorm visible on the horizon.

***

Hanzo, exhausted and desperate, boils in anger. He knows he’s left with no other choice. He must use his lightning. Time slows for him as his tattoo cracks to life, lightning leaving his skin, peeling from his eyes and encompassing his being. He strikes the bomb from the air. It detonates instantly. A blinding light sears his retinas as he is pulled toward the blast.

Suddenly, he lands on hard earth with dust gritty in his lungs. Sand whips furiously all around him. Shuffling sounds around him.

He is not alone.

#mchanzo #mchanzo au #hanzo #hanzo shimada #mccree #jesse mccree #shifting sands #overwatch #my writing

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historystrainwrecks · 3 years

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Fire In The Hole

Major General Ambrose Burnside was going to blow some stuff up.

He was on top of the world in 1862. He had been promoted to major general after winning the battles of Roanoke Island and New Bern, the first significant Union victories in the east. Eight months later, he was given command of the Army of the Potomac after President Abraham Lincoln fired George McClellan, the “Young Napoleon.” He had invented a gun that was named after him (the Burnside carbine) and sported truly magnificent sideburns (also named for him, even though he looked a bit like a walrus in a uniform).

Burnside didn’t want overall command of the Union armies, citing his loyalty to McClellan and lack of military experience. He learned that the command would go to General Joseph Hooker if he declined, which changed his mind.

Ambrose Burnside really didn’t like Joe Hooker.

Listen to the rest of the story on The History's Trainwrecks Podcast Episode 12:

So he took charge of the Army of the Potomac, knowing full well what the Commander in Chief wanted: for him to take the fight south to the Confederacy.

He planned an assault on the Confederate capital at Richmond, which definitely qualified as taking the fight to the enemy. Lincoln, frustrated by Union losses and McClellan’s seeming inability to press forward with the large and well-equipped army the President had gotten for him, approved the plan, despite his doubts that it would work. Lincoln needed a significant victory in order to maintain public support for his administration in the face of consistent Southern victories.

No pressure, Ambrose.

The attack, known as the Battle of Fredericksburg, was a disaster. Bureaucratic slowdowns delayed vital supplies and Burnside reacted slowly to changing events on the battlefield. Robert E. Lee did not, moving his forces rapidly from defense to offense, attacking the slow-moving Union Army before it could get its act together. The Union armies withdrew, having suffered twice the casualties as the Confederacy. Lincoln was called “a weak man, too weak for the occasion, and those fool or traitor generals are wasting time and yet more precious blood in indecisive battles and delays.” The governor of Pennsylvania described the battle to the President as “a butchery,” which drove Lincoln to “a state of nervous excitement bordering on insanity.” Lincoln said, “If there is a worse place than hell, I am in it.”

Burnside was relieved of command a month later and replaced by his nemesis, Joseph Hooker.

Ambrose Burnside really didn’t like Joe Hooker.

Each general ended up with something named after them, by the way. Burnside thought his was better, but Hooker’s were more popular. Plus, it took a long time to grow really bushy sideburns. They were never going to see eye to eye.

It was all downhill from there. Burnside led troops at the battles of the Wilderness and Spotsylvania Court House in a manner described as “reluctant.” He ended up at the Siege of Petersburg, which was the aftermath of Grant’s failed attempt to defeat Lee in a pitched, decisive battle. Both sides dug trenches and waited. Grant knew his opponent had lost men he could not replace, and supplies were running low. But Lee was clever, and Grant worried that the more time Lee had to strategize, the more likely it was that he might escape. The battles leading up to the siege were bloody and costly for the North, and Grant was called a “butcher” for his apparent willingness to sacrifice his men in inconclusive battles. General Grant had his own experience at the siege of Vicksburg to draw upon, where he had learned that sieges were expensive and bad for morale.

Like Burnside, Grant needed something big to turn things around.

***

Colonel Henry Pleasants, a mining engineer from Pennsylvania, hatched a plan where he would dig a long shaft under the Confederate trenches, pack it with gunpowder, and blow the whole thing sky-high. This would open a massive hole in the Southern defenses that troops could pour through and attack.

This sounded great to Burnside, and he approved the plan. General Grant was also onboard, though he later wrote that he saw it as a “mere way to keep the men occupied.” This lack of enthusiasm from the chain of command meant that Colonel Pleasants had to forage for his own materials, demolishing a bridge and an old mill to acquire the wooden supports he needed for the tunnel. He rigged an ingenious air exchange system that kept fresh air in the tunnel where the men were digging—he kept a fire burning near the start of the tunnel that drew fresh air in and stale air out by way of the chimney effect. The men hauled earth out of the tunnel using cracker boxes that had been fitted with handles.

The mine shaft was 511 feet long and more than 50 feet deep with hidden ventilation shafts, which helped avoid detection and countermeasures by the Confederates, who had heard rumors about the plan. General Lee refused to believe it for a couple of weeks before ordering “sluggish and uncoordinated” countermining operations that were unable to discover the tunnel.

Burnside had trained a division of United States Colored Troops under General Edward Ferrero to lead the attack into the crater that would result from the explosion. These two brigades would go around the crater and be the spearhead of the assault on Petersburg. General Meade, Burnside’s commander, vetoed the use of colored troops because of repercussions in the North if the attack failed and it was believed the black soldiers had been sacrificed. Burnside protested to Grant, who sided with Meade.

General Burnside tried to get volunteers to take the duty, but none were forthcoming, so he selected a white division by drawing lots. General James Ledlie’s 1st Division drew the short straw. Ledlie failed to brief or train his men, and was reported to be drunk behind the lines when the battle started.

The plan was to detonate the gunpowder between 3 and 3:45 am on the morning of July 30, 1864. Due to the poor quality of the fuses they had been given, the explosion didn’t happen on time. Two volunteers went forward into the mine and found that the fuse needed to be re-spliced. They tried again and the gunpowder finally went off at 4:44 am in a massive explosion that created a crater 170 feet long, 120 feet wide, and 30 feet deep. The Confederates, stunned by the blast, did not react for at least 15 minutes.

Neither did the Yankees. Ledlie’s division, its command staff back behind the lines and drunk off its posterior, waited 10 minutes before attacking. Instead of going around the crater, they went straight into it, thinking it would be a great rifle pit.

It was, but for the South. The Confederates regrouped at the top of the crater and fired down into it, wiping out the Union soldiers stuck at the bottom. Confederate general William Mahone called it “a turkey shoot.”

Burnside, watching his last chance at redemption disappear into a deep hole, ordered General Ferrero’s colored troops forward, but the Confederate fire forced them down the center of the crater instead of around the sides. They broke through and pushed the Confederates back, but a counterattack drove the Union soldiers back to their own lines.

Casualties on the Union side were, in what was becoming tragically typical for Burnside, more than double that of the Confederates. Most of the brunt was borne by the colored troops. General Meade brought charges against Burnside, and a court of inquiry censured him and General Ledlie, who was drunk during the fighting, as well as General Ferrero, who was also reported to be in his cups.

General Meade, surprisingly enough, neglected to mention his own role in the disaster. General Burnside was relieved of command two weeks later. He met with President Lincoln and General Grant in December, offering to resign, but they asked him to remain in the service. After the meeting though, Burnside wrote that he “was not informed of any duty upon which I am to be placed.” He never went back to active duty and resigned his commission the week after Lee’s surrender at Appomattox Court House.

The Congressional Joint Committee on the Conduct of the War exonerated Burnside in 1865 and censured Meade for changing the plan of attack at the last minute. General Grant testified to the committee that he believed that if the colored troops had been used, the battle would have been won. But if it had failed, “it would then be said and very properly, that we were shoving these people ahead to get killed because we did not care anything about them. But that could not be said if we put white troops in front."

Even though the Battle of the Crater was technically a Confederate victory, it did not end the stalemate. Both sides ended up in the same relative entrenched positions where they had started.

Burnside’s reputation only partially recovered after the Congressional investigation. He went on to run a number of railroads after the war. He was elected to three terms as Governor of Rhode Island and was the first president of the National Rifle Association. While on a visit to Europe in 1870, he took a crack at mediating the Franco-Prussian War.

Which did not work.

He was elected to the United States Senate from Rhode Island and served until his death in 1881. He was a good guy, but as one historian put it, “he had been the most unfortunate commander of the Army, a general who had been cursed by succeeding its most popular leader and a man who believed he was unfit for the post. His tenure had been marked by bitter animosity among his subordinates and a fearful, if not needless, sacrifice of life. A firm patriot, he lacked the power of personality and will to direct recalcitrant generals.”

The Crater operation was just the kind of thing Burnside was good at: complex strategic planning, as long as the execution was up to someone else. The tunnel excavation was in the best possible hands with Colonel Pleasants and his team of engineers. The initial blast did exactly what Burnside said it would do—blow a hole in the Confederate defenses and buy time for the Union by disorienting the enemy. The problem with Burnside, as always, was getting his subordinate commanders to stick to the plan, and not be drunk at the time. And, not to criticize, but Ulysses S. Grant could have been way more supportive.

In the end, the Battle of the Crater had come very close to ending the stalemate at Petersburg, and thereby the Civil War itself, almost a year before Lee’s surrender to Grant at Appomattox.

#history #civil war

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keptin-indy · 6 years

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7th Sea: The New World 11

Last time, our heroes fought undead abominations in the mountains and captured the necromancer responsible. They recovered a couple of smuggled artifacts, but most of them had been stolen from the necromancer’s vault and taken north into Mariana.

Previous installments

Mariandl decided to stay in Jaragua to make sure the local police knew how to contain Karstensen and to study the recovered artifacts - a blade made of bismuth that melted and fused any flesh it touched and a glowing purple crystal that diffused liquids into a fine mist. The others continued further into the mountains, guided mostly by Ansgar’s cartographic instincts. In the disputed borderlands, the group came across a fabulously rich gold vein and debated what to do with this knowledge. Telling either side about it would start a war, but buying the land and mining it themselves seemed unethical considering the island’s history with Thean colonists. Unable to come to a conclusion, they gathered what loose nuggets they could carry and agreed to tell no one of their discovery.

They pushed on until they found the cove from the instructions left in the cave, surrounded on two sides by steep cliffs. Etienne caught sight of a camouflaged building in the fading sunset light and Tamara somehow managed to not only fall off a cliff into the ocean, but also to drag Brandt down with her. Ansgar quietly uncoiled his chain so the others could climb down it and Etienne slipped ahead to scout through the dense underbrush. A handful of Theans guarded a small warehouse with no windows, but the short chimney provided a good listening post instead. Another handful of voices inside were on high alert due to the loud splash, but were unwilling to send a sentry to check on it, being so woefully undermanned. Etienne slipped back past the sentries and told the group what he’d seen and heard. Tamara pointed out that they didn’t know for sure these people were hostile, so they should try talking first. Ansgar agreed, but also said Etienne should find a way into the warehouse while they were talking just in case someone tried to burn incriminating evidence when they saw strangers approaching. Etienne snuck past the sentries for the third time while the others approached the furthest-flung sentry and Tamara claimed they had gotten lost and could he tell them where they were? The guard immediately raised the alarm and ran back toward to the building, only for he and all his compatriots to be quickly dispatched by Misha and Ansgar. True to Ansgar’s prediction, the one Thean left inside the warehouse attempted to throw a logbook on the fire, but was thwarted by Etienne. Also inside the warehouse was a barefoot Ifrian woman bound in chains which Misha quickly broke. She thanked them and immediately turned to kick the apprehended ringleader in the head, which the group thought was entirely understandable. The woman introduced herself as Imani and said she’d been kept as a cook, but they’d taken her shoes and chained her up after she’d attempted to escape too many times. The group asked if they could do anything for her and she asked if they were likely to take a ship to Ifri (”Not yet!” answered Ansgar cheerfully), but the group offered to escort her to Jaragua where she might be able to find an outbound ship. Investigating the logbook, they found it to be a record starting just before the revolution of goods both delivered and received as well as some passive-aggressive journal entries about the lack of staffing and resources. It appeared that the outpost was originally meant to be a foothold for a new settlement, when had been converted to a smugglers hideout when the war broke out. ATC ships were recorded as having taken artifacts off the island (Tamara noted the name of one ship that had been taken by a Brotherhood captain who had subsequently become improbably rich) and delivered supplies and about a hundred soldiers delivered in small units and sent further on into the jungle. The next ship was due to arrive in two weeks. Etienne found a hidden cache of three glowing crystals that had been listed as already shipped out and put them carefully into a bag without touching them, remembering of the flesh-melting knife from Karstensen’s lab. Ansgar tied up the unconscious smugglers and Imani removed all their shoes and gave each of them a good kick, which the group still thought was entirely understandable. They woke up the leader of the group, who immediately tried to bribe them into letting him go, but Misha countered his offer by suggesting he keep his honor and also by being a huge intimidating brick wall of a man. The man eventually cracked and told them he thought the artifacts ultimately went to Fort Freedom, but he didn’t think they’d been used for anything yet because no one had been sent to confront him about the crystals he’d embezzled. He also didn’t know what the crystals actually did, he’d just stolen them to earn a profit. He likewise wasn’t entirely sure what the troops had been sent to do, but he suspected they were part of a plan to retake the northern half of the island for the ATC. With little else to be gotten from their captives, the group debated what to do with them. Tamara was surprisingly insistent on just killing them to avoid escorting them back to Jaragua. Imani suggested just leaving them in the jungle without shoes or supplies, which was as good as death. Finally Etienne offered to take them and Imani back to the capital via the Porte walkway, at the cost of a great deal of his own blood, just so they’d stop considering murdering helpless captives. Once back in Jaragua, a drained Etienne delivered the prisoners and a report to Kehinde, who asked what they would like in return for all this legwork. Etienne couldn’t speak for the group, but suggested Misha would probably want his bar tab paid, Brandt was always in favour of medals, and he himself wanted government contacts. After a short recuperation under Mariandl’s care, Etienne returned to the others.

Brandt summoned a local spirit with an offering of a carved mask and requested it lead them to the ATC army. The spirit gave its conditions (rum and cigars, provided by Tamara) and directed them to follow the smoke trail it would leave behind, then vanished in pursuit of the troops. The group followed it for three grueling days through the dense jungle, eventually asking it to slow down because humans need to sleep, until it returned to them at nightfall saying it had found several small groups of foreigners and wasn’t sure which one they wanted. Brandt asked to be led to the nearest group so they could ask them some questions and they were led on through the night by the tireless little spirit. Etienne asked if he should scout ahead again, but Brandt said he intended to just barge in (Etienne crept around behind in case of runners anyway). As soon as they approached the encampment, the soldiers greeted them with guns, but their slow reloading time allowed Lady Gwen and her escorts to engage the twenty of so soldiers up close, where few people could best the trained duelists. Once the soldiers were subdued, Brandt questioned the one with the fanciest helmet (who also tried to bribe his way to freedom, like all ATC lackies). When this didn’t work, the leader eventually gave them the position on the command encampment that issued orders to the outliers like this one. The group immediately began planning how to quietly take over the central camp and issue orders to march the other camps into a Jaraguan ambush.

#7th sea #7th Sea: The New World #actual play #livejournal replacement #game

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trendingnewsb · 6 years

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I Live In Centralia, PA: It’s America’s Creepiest Ghost Town

Get intimate with our new podcast Cracked Gets Personal. Subscribe for fascinating episodes like My Job Was Killing People: 3 Soldiers Tell Us Everything and Behind Every War News Story Is A 20-Something College Kid.

In 1962, there was a trash fire in a strip mine beneath Centralia, Pennsylvania. Well, we say “was” — there still is. That unassuming little fire ignited an eternal hellish blaze which burns underground to this day. Centralia is one of the most famous ghost towns on earth, but the term “ghost town” is not perfectly accurate, because a handful of people still live there. We spoke with a few former residents, Jack and Becky, as well as one current resident, Jack’s dad, “Guy.” They told us …

The Earth Literally Eats People And Animals

Centralia was a thriving mining town right up until that whole “perpetual hellfire” thing. The land beneath it is honeycombed with mines and tunnels, and the fires have spread all through them. Sometimes the ground up and collapses, devouring whatever surface life lies above with its terrible burning maw. Jack explained: “The scariest things are the sinkholes. You need to watch your step in the woods, because the ground can give way. The fire might have burnt through a foot of coal, but the ground looks like it’s at the level it’s always been. So you step out there and you have some people coming back with broken ankles.”

Really, broken ankles aren’t all that bad compared to some of the things people in other towns face. But Centralia’s sinkholes are more ambitious than that: “The incident that told everyone ‘Maybe we should move’ was when a young kid down the street had a sinkhole collapse around him, and he was sucked down. His mother was watching him, turned around, and when she looked back, he was gone into the pit. This pit went 100 feet down, and looked like a cone if you looked down. He would have died if his arms weren’t stretched out. When they pulled him out, a huge plume of smoke came out, and you could just see the fire at the bottom of the hole.”

That boy, Todd Domboski, survived and presumably went on to write a bestselling book about his escape from the bowels of Hell. Other human-sized creatures in Centralia have not been as lucky.

PBS We keep waiting for glowing eyes to appear.

“Every once in a while, you would come across a deer sticking out vertically with steam billowing out. They looked like they were crawling out. The poor deer had fallen into a sinkhole and had either starved to death or suffocated to death from the fumes. My friends would claim to see smoke coming out of its mouth, like it had been burnt alive, but it was just the way the smoke came out.”

This means the kids who grew up in Centralia before it was completely abandoned had to deal with death on a pretty regular basis. Becky told us about watching the violent death of a neighbor’s cat: “We were swinging in the backyard, and this patch of grass suddenly turned brown. Their cat was standing there, and it suddenly became brown. It didn’t make any noise, and we thought she had done something to make it all suddenly brown, like flipping a sheet over. But it was just another hole, and the cat went down. We didn’t say anything until we jumped off and went over to the fence to see that it was another sinkhole, and we called out to our neighbor, but after some light digging (NEVER go into a sinkhole by yourself), her cat was gone.”

Asphalt Films

Sinkholes even caused an entire stretch of highway to be rerouted after holes and gas buckled parts of it back in 1994. The state did its best to hide the old highway, but because of the dangers lurking beneath, they never got rid of it. And it’s still there, waiting for George Miller to make a much more colorful Mad Max sequel.

Life In A Ghost Town Is … Interesting

Underneath Centralia, the endless fire has created an environment as deadly as the surface of Saturn. While the gases aren’t lethal up above, they still play hell with the resident’s health. Poison gas has even built up in some citizens’ basements. Guy explained how that all simply became part of the weather in Centralia. “We always had the smoke, and my wife felt sick if she was near it. We stay away from it. It’s bad news. Only the tourists go into the damn thing.”

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And Becky elaborated: “There was a lot of coughing. If you know what black lung is [this], it’s what the coughing sounded like. It’s this cough where you can hear the mucus. Worse than what smokers have. If you spent enough time near the smoke, you got a cough like that. And if you were a miner developing black lung, who smoked and spent time near the smoke, like my dad, then you knew when they were home, because you heard the worst cough in the world. If you went to a nearby store and you heard the cough, odds are they were from Centralia.”

This isn’t all in the past. Toxic gases still billow from burnt-out places, and that poses a major threat. Vents were built to pipe the steam away from town into areas of eminent domain where no one lives anymore.

Due to all the underground damage, many homes need additional supports (especially if the former houses next door were means of support for them), so they look like they have six or seven chimneys.

Becky points out that the fame of Centralia also means a lot of tourism. She lived there until her 20s, and while she was in grade school, her dying town became a Halloween vacation destination: “Everyone wanted to trick or treat near me. They didn’t care that they got less candy. They wanted to be scared. A few years some of that steam would rise, or it would be foggy. With all the abandoned houses, it was better than a haunted house. To them. Me, it was another day.”

Even outside of Halloween, tourists would come by just to take in the poisonous “atmosphere” in Centralia. “Whenever people visited from, say, Harrisburg or Lancaster, they would get scared easily. The ground would give out from under them and they’d fall in to their knees, and they’d go ‘Oh my God!’ I was so used to it that I said, ‘Sometimes it does that,’ and went on. This wasn’t unusual. My mom or dad would say not to go into the steam and to stay away from the ‘openings,’ and they always asked what that was. When they found out, they asked if they were going to die, and my dad, eloquent as ever, would say, ‘Oh, probably not.’ Not to be funny, but actually being serious about it.”

People Just … Didn’t Care About The Danger

People are remarkably good at ignoring imminent doom. For evidence of this, read absolutely any newspaper in the world today. It wasn’t until 1984, after several kids were sucked into sinkholes and the underground tanks at a local gas station nearly exploded, that the U.S. government ordered a total evacuation of the town. People still stayed behind, so in 1992, the governor put the entire town under eminent domain. In 2002, the state took their zip code away, and in 2009, the governor announced that all holdouts would be evacuated for their own good.

There are still seven people living in Centralia.

Jack explains why many of those residents ignored the government back then, even when it was doing something as reasonable as evacuating Toxic Firetown, USA. “We had meetings with scientists explaining what was happening. They were talking to miners, some of whom had degrees, so they didn’t have to go layman.” The denizens of Centralia understood coal and the mines, but they still weren’t able to accept that their hometown was now the abode of Satan himself. “The scientists, and even other miners, were telling them that the town could fall in piece by piece or get toxic gas, but they denied it, and said they’d continue to live here because they didn’t see it. These were after pits started opening up, but they STILL said no.”

Jack’s father, Guy, isn’t exactly on the same page. He’s one of the few that stayed behind. And he did it largely to spite those damned scientists and government officials who rolled into town to talk down to him and his neighbors. “They thought they knew more than us, but they were wrong. How come the town hasn’t collapsed like they said? It’s not as bad as they said, and you see that now.”

Jack and Guy’s disagreement is nothing new. Back when the evacuation efforts started, Centralia itself was bitterly divided over whether the fire was a threat or not. Becky remembers: “My parents stayed, because they didn’t think they could afford to move. But then they got an offer for double the value of their home, and they took it. My neighbor ([the one] who owned the cat), she stayed. She had seen the danger firsthand, and lost something she loved to it, but she wasn’t budging. The last time I was there, she was shouting from her porch at some men in suits who obviously wanted her house.”

In 2013, after a battle lasting over 20 years, the remaining ten residents were allowed to stay, but once they’re gone, their homes go to the public domain. Guy sums it neatly: “It’s my home. That’s all there is to it.”

Becky thinks that for some of those last remaining residents, staying in Centralia may be less about spite and more about living in a place so dangerous it’s effectively off the grid: “My old neighbor, until the day she died, would chase off journalists with a broom and hide sprinklers in her lawn to turn them on when people got near. I know before she died, she said she was ‘in talks’ to buy a cellphone jammer, which seems incredibly illegal, but this woman was also fine with threatening to spray bug spray at tourist’s dogs.”

The Government Is Trying to Erase Centralia

Jack pointed out that 20 years ago, while Centralia was emptying out, the town still looked more or less like it always had. But over the last two decades, the state government has been doing its damnedest to wipe the town away. “As soon as they bought houses, they tore them down and covered them with plants. Then they took out as much of the foundations as they could. Then they removed the lip in the curb. They don’t exist, and it looks like they never did.”

We took a picture of Becky’s old house:

“See that? You can kinda tell where a driveway was. But that’s it. No sign of the huge gate we had, or of the stairs, or anything.”

Jack continues: “They took away the name. One day, all the signs were gone. All the signs showing nearby towns had been replaced, with ‘Centralia’ [left] off. They even later covered up an arrow showing a way to get to another city through Centralia, so people passing through can’t get here.”

They removed Centralia’s name from the city municipal building:

The county records office is slowly removing the town from history, which has made life tough on Jack’s dad: “When my father went in to check his property lines, it took almost half a day to find a copy, because they had trashed so much of Centralia.”

The county has also cut back on basic services for the seven people who still live there. Says Jack: “My father doesn’t get mail. Officially, Centralia has no zip code, so nothing can be sent there. Everybody needs a PO box in another town, or need their family to collect it. All of my father’s mail is sent to me. He also stopped using checks. You can’t put Centralia down anymore, due to the zip code, and he didn’t want to ‘burden’ me with putting my address down as his. He went full cash and debit.”

Becky points out that the lack of a PO box has an even more disastrous consequence: It’s made pizza delivery much more difficult. “My parents, after they took away the zip code, couldn’t just give directions to people. If they didn’t know about Centralia, they needed to be specific. I overheard my parents say to pizza guys on the phone ‘Go to Aristes. Then head south on 42. Third little street you see, halfway turn right. We’re the only house on the street.'”

Tourists Are Destroying The Town

Centralia had 1,000 residents in 1980. It was down to 63 in 1990, and ten in 2010. The coal industry left after the whole, uh, giant apocalyptic coal fire thing. But even with all that, Centralia could’ve survived. There’s the tourism aspect, and the fact that it’s kind of an ideal filming location.

Unfortunately, tourism’s mostly benefited neighboring towns, since the state won’t issue new business permits in Centralia. The places selling souvenirs, gasoline, and lodgings are all outside Centralia’s old borders. Since the tourists don’t bring money into town, residents have come to hate them. Jack explained: “They’ll walk on lawns and property freely, thinking it’s abandoned. They’ll always be asking, ‘Why do you live here?’ They dump trash everywhere … The worst are the tourists who leave graffiti.”

Guy has some even more complaints: “They chipped at my house. For a souvenir, like they wanted a piece of the Lord’s cross. Chip chip chip, and they took a part of my stairs. Then they wrote ‘Let it burn’ on it. Why would they do that?”

So what can he do about it? Basically nothing. Jack explains that staying in Centralia means living beyond a lot of modern conveniences … like law enforcement. “We have no police anymore. [State and county] police come through town, of course, but for something routine, it’s not a big deal.”

The town has been beaten up so badly by these visitors that, according to Jack, Hollywood doesn’t really have any interest in filming there anymore. He told us about one time that several location scouts came through town (likely working on The Road), but decided they just couldn’t work there. “The movie people came here, looked around, decided it had too much graffiti, and shot on another abandoned highway out near Pittsburgh. Other Hollywood people talked to my father quickly (Centralia residents don’t like the press), and they liked the look, but they said ‘It might be too much graffiti,’ and since they never came back, it probably was.”

weible1980/iStock Unless Bansky was directing, then yeah.

Becky adds: “For the last five years or so, [tourists have] been way more destructive than the fire.”

Despite intermittent police crackdowns, trespassing has been on the upswing. A lot of that probably has to do with the fact that so many articles on the internet have spread the story of Centralia. So, uh, sorry about that?

Readers, trust us here: Don’t visit Centralia. And if you do, don’t draw on anything. And super duper don’t break pieces off of people’s houses. That’s just messed up. Residents have enough problems.

Evan V. Symon is a journalist and interviewer for Cracked, who was on location in Centralia and didn’t die. Have an awesome job/experience you’d like to see here? Hit us up at [email protected] today!

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