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bubble-tea-bunny · 5 years

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monster monster!

[link x reader]

author’s note: was really hurting for inspo when suddenly i got an idea revolving around fang and bone not being owned by kilton, but someone else ;))) (also i did tweak how the shop works a lil bit for the sake of this story, which i hope you do not mind)

word count: 6,125

With the amount of rain beginning to pour from dark clouds, which had slowly crept in these last several hours and concealed the sky, one may hardly believe it had been perfectly sunny this morning. The expectation that the weather would be agreeable the whole day is why Link had decided to begin his journey this morning and not tarry any longer. He still has a large distance to cover until he arrives at his destination, and while he would have liked to continue on a bit more before stopping for the night, it wouldn’t be a good idea. A small voice in the back of his mind reasons he could keep going, if he really wants to, but the quick flash of lightning in the distance and the rumble of thunder close on its heels kills that notion in a heartbeat, and Link finds himself taking shelter at the stable just off the main road.

After he checks his horse in with the stablehand, he steps beneath the canopy and heaves a deep sigh of relief, the roar of the storm now muffled. Warmth washes over him, sinks into his skin and seeps through damp clothes. He does his best to wring himself out by the entrance so as not to track water along the wooden flooring. As the minutes tick by, his shivering ceases, and he digs enough rupees out of his pocket to pay for a bed.

There are a few other travelers here. One sits at the table writing in a journal, the scratching of pen on paper overpowered by the relentless shower outside. The two others are asleep on the far side, so Link takes care in setting his bag gently down by his bed, to make as little noise as possible. Instead of following the leads of those slumbering Hylians, he walks back to the threshold, leaning against the wooden frame to watch the rain. Another streak of lightning illuminates the sky for a brief moment, and Link absentmindedly counts off the seconds in his head—One, two, three…—until thunder growls so strongly the earth seems to shake.

The noise of the torrential downpour makes it difficult to hear much, but Link’s learned to be perceptive. Boots thud heavily against the floor, sending shockwaves Link can feel traveling towards his own. The silent newcomer claims the open spot to his left, but doesn’t assume a casual stance like he does, remaining straight and on high alert. Link spares a quick glance at the one who has joined him—a guard—then turns back to the scene in front.

Both of them stand there quietly, but that doesn’t last long. Link’s eyes pass over the blue flame flickering in the lantern, wholly unbothered by the raindrops, just as the man next to him speaks.

He introduces himself as Hoz, and he shares with Link rumors of a shop only open at night, featuring wares of the less savory sort, and some might even say the ominous or unsettling. It isn’t simple to stumble across, and perhaps that’s on purpose, for the cover of darkness ensures not everyone has the opportunity to peek at the sinister merchandise. It’s called Fang and Bone, Hoz says, and if you’ve an interest in monsters, that’s the place to go.

Link hadn’t been too absorbed in the topic at the start of this spiel, but his curiosity grows the more Hoz expounds on the hearsay that’s been flittering throughout Hyrule. If this shop had been restricted to this one region, here in Akkala, Link might not have been too invested in finding out more immediately, and would consider it a topic set off to the side for another time. But it’s something else entirely that its reputation stretches across the whole land, because though that’s true, there are few who are able to attest to its existence and its goods and, most importantly, its owner, for who could possibly be at the center of the sinister business of dealing in monsters?

Apparently Link needn’t voice his newfound interest in discovering this shop for himself, for Hoz to pick up on it. The man merely looks over at him and smirks.

“I see the glint in your eye,” he remarks. Though they stand next to each other, he needs to raise his voice to be heard over the rain. “You want to find it too.” He suggests asking around the region as a way to glean useful information of its whereabouts, and politely requests that should Link come across this mysterious emporium, that he return to these stables to tell him all about it.

Link, feeling sleepy now, gives a sleepy smile in response and nods, a silent promise that he’ll do just that. Hoz bids him a goodnight then makes his leave to give Link some time on his own. Link watches as he does a quick scan of the interior, in search of suspicious activity he knows there is none of (there isn’t much to be on high alert for), before he walks up to the counter to chat with the stable master.

Another bout of lightning. Another roll of thunder. This storm shows no signs of stopping anytime soon. Link crosses his arms as he lingers to observe it for a couple more minutes, and he wonders distantly if Fang and Bone is still open for business somewhere out there.

By morning, his plans have changed. If he resumed his original route, he would be in the next region over by sundown, especially since the skies have cleared up and, unlike yesterday, remained as such. But he decides to stay for another day or two instead, inquiring from those in the area about a store that specializes in monsters. He’s hoping to learn of details that at least point him in the right direction, provide a starting point, but the vast majority of those he speaks to look at him like he’s suddenly grown two heads and they don’t say it out loud but they’re wondering why on earth he could be seeking out anything like that. And those who don’t react that way, those who know what he’s talking about and pretend they don’t but Link can tell deep down they do know something, however small, aren’t very eager to share.

It takes a good deal of convincing to get the answers he wants. His words worked most of the time, but when they didn’t, he used rupees to make up for it. He’s lower on money than he would’ve like to have been at the end of all that, but somehow it’s easy to brush off when he sinks into one of the chairs at the Tarrey Town inn and studies the map on his Sheikah Slate.

The name Skull Lake is so on the nose it almost makes him laugh. It could also be no more a fitting location for a place called Fang and Bone to set up shop. Now that he thinks about it, he’s surprised, and a little irritated, that he hadn’t figured it out himself, because if he did, he’d have saved himself a lot of trouble (and rupees). Though he supposes the idea may have been so ridiculous in theory that his subconscious hadn’t bothered to make the connection, already assuming it would’ve been a dead end. His subconscious really ought to get out of the habit of doing that. Who knows what else he could miss…

“I heard tell of your hunt for a shop of monsters.”

Link’s gaze slides from the screen over to Kapson standing behind the counter, the only other occupant of this building. Link’s brows furrow in confusion, wondering how he could know that when he hadn’t said anything, but he realizes Pelison must have mentioned something. The young Goron is always excited to hear of Link’s most recent adventures, and of course, on this visit, Link recounted the rumors Hoz had shared, though in less frightening terms. He has no desire to be responsible for nightmares.

“Another traveler came through here just a few days ago looking for the same thing.” Kapson walks the short distance to the table Link sits at and takes the seat on the opposite side. He has no reason to stay by the counter. It’s late, most of the town is asleep, and there aren’t many who arrive in the middle of the night. “I imagine they must’ve found it by now.”

Link sets his Sheikah Slate aside, the zoomed in image of Skull Lake staring up at the ceiling for several seconds before disappearing as the screen shuts off. You believe it then? he asks. The stories.

Kapson inhales deeply, as though to take those moments to put together his response. And when he has it, he smiles slightly, amused in a sardonic kind of way. “There have been much stranger things afoot in Hyrule.”

Link can’t help chuckling and nods in agreement. He’s witnessed many of said “strange things” up close, often being at the forefront to investigate and, if need be, set them right. The whispers about Fang and Bone hardly sound bizarre in comparison. And he realizes that’s how he’d been approaching it this whole time—he had never believed it to be just rumors. Once Hoz had brought the topic to his attention, Link had every intention to find it, had been confident there was anything to find. A clear contrast to those he had asked for more information who assumed he’d gone crazy. Perhaps his sense of what was normal and what was atypical has been skewed, but he takes comfort in the fact he’s not alone in his sentiments, judging by the words Kapson has shared.

He’s due to set off for Skull Lake the next day, but he’s in no rush. The ride won’t be long and the shop is only there at night. So he wakes at mid-morning and kills time restocking his supplies and talking with the other villagers. Then when the sun has passed its highest point, now beginning its journey to the western horizon, he packs up his saddle bag and mounts his horse. He gives a final wave to Pelison as he leaves, and gradually the sounds of Tarrey Town fade behind him.

The last minutes of the dying light paint the world orange. Link pulls out his Sheikah Slate to ensure he’s riding in the right direction, and surmises that the cluster of rocks up ahead are part of the lake’s shoreline. The lake itself is still hidden and would require getting closer and maneuvering through stony outcrops to be able to spot it. Link has to hand it to whoever owns this shop—this is no easy place to happen upon. Which he supposes is exactly what they want, for it means that those who do find this place have sought it out intentionally, and possess a legitimate, vested interest in a selection of goods not entirely conventional.

As though sensing that Link has reached his destination, the last slivers of sunlight extinguish themselves in a sigh, blowing strong enough to ruffle Link’s hair and cold enough that he sees his own breath when he exhales. To minimize noise, he dismounts from his horse and tethers it out of sight from anyone who might be on the lake, then proceeds on foot. Pulling his cloak tighter around him, he peeks around tall columns of stone, eyes narrowed as he scans the expanse of Skull Lake.

It’s a full moon tonight. Link makes a habit of tracking the phases, and earlier today, he had mused that if the moon were waning on this particular evening, he probably wouldn’t have adequate visibility to discern anything out on the lake. But while standing here, with his blue gaze on blue waters, he learns that his assumption was wrong. Even if it had been a new moon, the dim yellow light from the center of Skull Lake would draw his attention right away, a beacon in the dark night.

There are no patrons browsing from what he can tell. He guesses he might be the first of the evening. Stepping out from behind his hiding place, he walks across the small land bridge leading to the island where the rumored monster emporium stands alone, lanterns hanging from the wooden counter with more attached to what Link notices as he gets closer is a large patchwork hot air balloon, the colors of each piece mismatched and oddly charming. And painted on the wooden sign hanging above the shop counter window in thick black paint, so the words can’t be misread: Fang and Bone.

The shop owner is turned away, preoccupied with organizing the shelves. Link surveys the selection, passing over the horns and fangs of various creatures; guts and hearts that he swears twitch every few seconds; severed wings and tails and eyeballs that squelch as the merchant grabs a few and drops them into a glass jar. Finally, among the many other spooky items in stock, are small purple flasks with gold accents and gold stoppers.

Nearly a minute passes and the shopkeeper has taken no notice of Link, and he’s not sure what he should do. Does he talk? Does he rap his knuckles against the counter a few times, for lack of a bell? Eventually he decides to clear his throat, loud yet succinct, enough to announce his presence but not enough to startle.

“Yes?” the merchant says as they twist around, prepared for any inquiries. “Is there anything you’d like to see?”

Bright eyes are trained on Link from beneath a hood, and it catches him off guard. To be honest, he had envisioned the owner of this kind of shop to be much more… menacing, with mad eyes and a suspiciously wide grin, gnarled and sharp fingernails like claws, surrounded by an aura that spoke of trouble and disturbing delights. It’s certainly not the most outrageous expectation, and he’s confident anyone else who’s heard of Fang and Bone has thought the same. But you’re none of that.

Lithe fingers push down the hood to reveal your face and you look, well, perfectly normal. Your eyes show you’re sane as can be, and you smile a tight-lipped smile that matches those of the other shop owners in the villages, who wear them to be polite as they deal with customers. He feels no sense of dread to be this close, has no inkling that you could be evil or up to something bad. Poking out from your hair, which is tied back into a neat braid, are long pointed ears. Just like his.

Link has no need to stock up on monster parts. He gathers his own during his travels, and he’s not running short on any supplies. But you’re watching him intently, waiting for him to talk, to ask about what items you’re offering, and it’s fair for you to assume he does want to buy because why else would he have come all this way? The biting curiosity, Link thinks to himself. It’s what keeps him rooted to this spot despite harboring no intention to purchase anything. However, there is one thing he wants to ask about…

He glances over your shoulder at the small purple flasks and asks what they are. You smile at his piqued interest and reach back to grab one, holding it up, the soft glow of the lanterns bouncing off the glass. Monster extract, you explain. An essence of my own creation. Cook with it and you’ll experience a significant energy boost.

While you spoke, you’d been staring at the flask, gaze and voice filled with pride at your work. Thus, you miss the mixture of emotions lining Link’s face, but when you finally do notice his dubious expression, knitted brows and a slight frown that bordered on distaste, you laugh, and he sees sharp canines that look remarkably like fangs.

“Don’t worry, I’ve done careful research. Mix it well, and you can hardly tell it’s there,” you state. You pull the stopper off and stretch out your arm so Link can take a closer look. His eyes drop down to the flask then slide back up to you and you nod in reassurance. “Some customers like to inspect the wares more closely.”

Tentatively he grabs it, fingers curling around the narrow neck. Dark purple tendrils float from the opening and dissipate in the air as they rise. He brings it close to his nose to take a sniff and does his best not to recoil at the stench. He fails, and you chuckle again quietly, reminding him of its concentrated nature. You aren’t quite drawing the extract from flowers.

Link hands back the flask and you replace the stopper, asking what he thinks. Initially he’d been on the fence, and was leaning towards saying no thanks, but your stare is piercing, like you can see right through him, and he finds he doesn’t want to say no. So he doesn’t. He says he’ll buy one and you smile in satisfaction at another satisfied customer and there’s a glint in your eye like you know what you’ve done. Who could say no with a gaze like that?

Before Link can get rupees from his pocket, you inform him that monster extract can only be paid for with monster parts. And as he has no shortage of those, he pays easily, and the disorganized mess of guts and tails and wings in his bag is replaced by one neat purple flask.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Your grin is courteous and you don’t appear to be affected by the fresh smell of rot emanating from the monster parts now sitting on the counter between you. “I hope you’ll stop by again.” For a moment this statement gives Link pause, and he wonders if you say that to everyone. (And would it matter to him if you did?)

No one else is in sight as he makes his leave, but the night is still young, which leaves plenty of time for others to arrive. Once on the shore, he glances over his shoulder and sees you’ve returned to your original task of sorting your inventory. Your back is turned to him and you’ve brought up the hood of your cloak again, and he’s staring at two large, different colored buttons and a piece of fabric sewn and stuffed to resemble a beak. The goofy-looking makeshift monster makes him smile as he walks to his horse.

The following morning, he finally resumes the journey that had been put on hold these last few days. It’s still a lengthy ride down to Necluda, but with little to no detours, (certainly not any that last as long as his hunt for for Fang and Bone had been), he arrives by the end of the week.

He deeply inhales a breath of fresh air as the houses of Hateno come into view just over the hill. His body seems to know he’s home, for suddenly his shoulders sag, full of fatigue from his extended bout away from the village, and he’s yearning for a good night’s sleep in his own bed. It’s dark when he passes the gateway and steers his horse onto the main road stretching through town, but there are plenty of people outside who wave in greeting.

Ivees’s face lights up as Link pushes open the door to the general shop. Pruce isn’t behind the counter, which means she’s the one in charge tonight. She sets her broom aside and asks how he’s doing and what he’s been up to. Link’s response is curt, borne out of exhaustion, and as he talks, she’s smiling sympathetically because it’s not difficult to tell from the tone of his voice that he’s tired.

“I’m glad to know you’re okay,” she says. “No cuts or bruises on you, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Link chuckles good-naturedly, then picks out produce to bring back with him to his house. His food stores were depleted right before he left, done purposely so nothing spoiled while he was gone. Ivee counts the costs of everything he’s chosen and placed on the counter then provides a total, and Link opens up his bag for her to place it all into while he counts out the correct amount of rupees.

“What’s this?”

At Ivee’s question, Link tears his focus from the rupees in his hand. Her fingers are wrapped around the neck of the flask of monster extract, not taking it out of the bag but merely angling it so she can see the accents on the glass more clearly. Because she isn’t a child, he doesn’t have to sugarcoat his answer, but he does take a moment to figure out how to explain. He settles on starting with a question: Have you heard those rumors of a shop selling monster parts?

Ivee purses her lips in thought, and several seconds later, she nods. Link tells her it’s real, and that’s where he got the flask from. It’s monster extract. Ivee’s eyes widen in shock once she learns what she’s holding, and she emits a horrified squeak and lets go. He laughs and assures her it isn’t toxic, and that the only danger to be worried about is the stench.

After the produce is put away in Link’s bag, he shrugs it back onto his shoulder. But one more query from Ivee prevents him from leaving.

“What’s the owner look like? You know… of that shop.”

Link smiles but it’s not so much directed at Ivee as much as it is to himself, as he remembers your eyes reflecting the low lights of the lanterns and remembers your lips forming a delightful curve he wanted to see again as soon as it was out of sight. And all he tells her is that the owner isn’t nearly as scary as she might be imagining.

He’d been excited to make dinner once he returned home, but the intimate, cozy setting makes him incredibly weary, and instead, he drops right into bed, still in the clothes he’d worn since this morning. The weather is cold but within these four walls, with the gently crackling fire, he has no need to burrow beneath his blankets. Not that he’d have much energy to do that anyway.

The rooster crowing wakes him up, but the pain in his neck is what prevents him from being able to go back to sleep. He passed out the moment he hit the bed, and it hadn’t been in the most comfortable position. Rubbing at the sore spot, he sits up and walks downstairs to make breakfast. His stomach grumbles as he cooks, having missed out on a meal last night. The last time he’d eaten was yesterday early afternoon.

His day is spent in town, catching up and swapping stories with the others. They usually prefer to hear more of what he’s been up to, reasoning that there’s never anything too newsworthy that occurs here, nothing worth sharing, but Link doesn’t think that’s true. The monster-slaying and traveling across the whole of Hyrule has become standard for him, so to listen to stories of the goings-on of home is refreshing. He voices this to Tokk, who laughs and, with a smile that crinkles the corners of his aged eyes, muses The grass is always greener, isn’t it?

Link also fills his time doing any odd jobs anyone approaches him with. He pitches hay for Dantz on the farm, carries in the boxes of produce for Pruce to restock his store, helps Sayge clean up the floors in the dye shop. He’s moving around until sundown, and while he’s tired by the end of it, he also feels satisfied to have been so productive. Offering his assistance around Hateno is his method of relaxing. He isn’t sure if he’d be able to sit around. If he tried, it’s inevitable that he would get the itch to do something, and he’s in luck, for the villagers are sure to have that something to keep his hands busy.

A practice of his had gone neglected since he came back, one he should’ve done yesterday but failed to carry out due to fatigue clouding his mind. Once his tasks are done and the moon is high in the sky (it’s a crescent tonight), he traipses over to the goddess statue, his boots sifting the grass with each step. The statue is barely lit by the light of a nearby torch, and he kneels down before it to pray to Hylia. It’s a tradition he has had for a long while now, done after every safe return to Hateno.

At the tail-end of it, a hard gust of wind blows out the torch, and the orange glow which had run down the length of the statue disappears. Link stands and makes his way over to it, prepared to grab it from the sconce and reignite it with one of the torches farther down. But a faint light in the distance grabs his attention, and he squints in an attempt to discern the faraway source better.

His head tilts and internally he’s debating if he’s actually seeing what he thinks he’s seeing. No, it can’t be that, he tells himself. It can’t be because that wouldn’t make sense. But the fact is it’s hard to deny that what rests on the hill is a large balloon, stitched together with a curiously mismatched patchwork. Kapson’s words flood back—There have been much stranger things afoot in Hyrule—and Link concedes that to discover the balloon here, quite far from Akkala, is not the most outlandish phenomenon he’s ever bore witness to.

So when he finally accepts that yes, that is exactly what he’s seeing, he turns left and right to check if anyone else had noticed the balloon’s presence, but no one is staring, nor had anyone noticed him staring and tried to check out for themselves what he’s concentrating so hard on. He places the torch back in the sconce, still unlit, and jogs down to the dirt path leading out of town.

He follows it for a while, then veers off as he approaches the hill where Fang and Bone has set up for the night. The numerous lanterns bathe him in soft light, their radiance like a greeting, and his eyes slide down from the balloon to you behind the counter. Your back is turned, just like last time, but he doesn’t have to clear his throat or speak up or knock on the counter because, as though you could feel someone there, you turn around, and upon seeing him, you smile widely. You do it so well you could put the moon out of business.

“Hello again.” Clearly you recognize him, based on the familiarity in your eyes which are striking beneath the hood of your dark cloak.

Link’s chest bubbles with warmth to learn that you remember him, but that heat tempers as he wonders if you remember everyone. How large could your customer base be? You must have a sizable pool of patrons to stay open, but small enough that knowledge of your shop isn’t widespread, remaining for the majority of Hyrule a simple rumor. Those who buy your wares are most probably repeat customers as well, giving you ample opportunities to memorize faces. So perhaps he is not so special as to stand out as much as he assumed he had.

“Here for another flask of monster extract?” you ask, interrupting his train of thought. “Or something else?”

Your opening questions would typically merit no extra consideration. They’re signs of a good merchant assisting their customer, initiating a discussion to help them find what they’re looking for. But Link’s hesitation to respond is only a reasonable reaction when he’s been arguing internally since you greeted him about whether he does stand out, and therefore whether your questions mean anything more. Now he stands here, silent for an amount of time toeing the line of awkward, if it hadn’t crossed that already, wholly unsure if you’re implying something. Are you referring to the other products behind you or yourself?

He scolds himself: This is ridiculous. He’s reading too deeply into it. The case might very well be that you are implying absolutely nothing and he’s projecting his own feelings because it’s true that he is here for something other than monster extract but it’s not the pulsating bokoblin guts nor the glassy keese eyeballs on the shelves. He’s here for your utter fascination with the creatures he slays on his travels, a task he views as mere routine. He understands the basics, what parts of a monster he requires for what elixirs, but never has he been laden with the curiosity and pure elation burning in your eyes as you speak of those beasts, a distinct sense of fondness in your voice. It’s this seemingly paradoxical behavior which made him want to come back because he has never known anyone like you. He’s here for you.

Of course, he doesn’t just say that. In fact, he dodges the questions entirely, opting instead to admit that he hasn’t gotten around to making anything with his current flask of monster extract. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, and you chuckle, nodding in understanding. Not intent on trying to scramble for answers when you inevitably ask if he’s interested in any of the other products in stock, he changes the subject: I didn’t know Fang and Bone changed locations.

You nod. “I move all over Hyrule. And tonight, luck would have me in the same village as you.”

Link’s speculations start up once more. Were you calling yourself lucky? Had you been wanting to see him again too? Maybe he’d been correct in discerning a reciprocated interest, and it hadn’t just been the result of paranoia and doubt, hazards against potentially making a fool of himself. And he’s silently agreeing that yes, the circumstances were lucky indeed.

Where will you go from here? he inquires, and you say you aren’t sure yet. You like to follow the road, let the wind guide you where it will. The corner of his lips lift in a small smile, and it widens as you continue to explain that this lack of a set destination gives you the freedom to track monsters’ movements in the vicinity if you happen to notice any. So I guess the wind points me towards monsters, and I just end up in the closest town, you state with a quiet laugh.

“Maybe I’ll run into you again,” you then remark offhandedly, and Link swears it almost sounds hopeful, and his chest tightens upon this realization. He isn’t imagining that softness in your gaze, filled with an optimism that luck would be on your side again—both your sides—and when you grin, he thinks his heart might burst.

He does buy three lizalfos tails, less because he needs them and more because he doesn’t want to leave empty-handed. The rupees they cost are worth it anyway, as he witnesses the care you take in grabbing the tails from the shelf and setting them down on the counter. He tucks them into his bag which is mostly empty now that he’d had the chance to offload unnecessary items at home. But before he can leave, you suggest out of the blue that he bake a cake with the monster extract: I’ve been told it’s quite tasty!

Link’s smiling to himself on the walk back through town. He passes no one on the way, for it’s late enough that even all the adults have turned in for the evening. The chill melts away once he enters his house, and as he prepares for bed, he’s already thinking ahead to the next time he should come across you, on another clear midnight with the stars a backdrop to that colorful hot air balloon. He’s envisioning it behind closed eyes, playing on a loop the gentle sway of it in the breeze. And he dreams of it too.

Eventually he’s on the road again, traveling west. He always hates to say goodbye to those in Hateno, but he comforts himself in the fact that it won’t feel like very long before he returns. It never does, perhaps owed to the innate longing for home that seems to make the days pass just a little bit faster.

The weather has been better too, with no risk of rain. The sky is cloudless and blue and the temperature has remained moderate and pleasant. Link’s sure that’s going to change as he passes central Hyrule and reaches the fringes, but he’s no stranger to the more extreme climates there, and he’d packed appropriately.

However, for now, any concerns of weather too hot or too cold are far from his mind as he spots a sleepy Outskirt stable. Smoke gently rises from the fire outside, and the air smells of baked apples. There’s only one other horse being tended to by the stablehand, and Link’s horse makes it two. He doesn’t plan to stay overnight, for there’s plenty of daylight left to keep going. Rather, he’s taking the moment to rest and give his horse a much-deserved break, since they’d gotten an early start today, packing up and moving on before the sun came up.

There is a third horse here, a large one, which is standing facing the main road. It pulls along a cart, the contents of which are covered up by a layer of burlap. Link passes it on his way to the fire, where he takes a seat on the tree stump. He assumes the one currently in conversation with the stable master is the owner, but he doesn’t care to linger on it for long as he pulls up the map on his Sheikah Slate. He’ll need to plot out the distance he’d like to travel with the remaining hours of sunlight and find a safe stopping point.

“Thank you!” the person talking to the stable master says, and the sound of their voice tears Link’s focus away from studying the map.

He only sees a profile of the Hylian’s face, given he’s sitting off to the side, but it’s unmistakable that it’s you walking towards the large horse waiting patiently. He notes how peculiar it is to see you without your large cloak and heavy hood, and with your features illuminated by the natural light of the sun and not the artificial lights of all the lanterns. No one might ever expect you to run such a monstrous business, though maybe that’s exactly what you want.

The point is, you aren’t any less wonderful to behold in broad daylight, and the shock to find you here, which makes Link’s stomach bubble as the world suddenly feels to have been turned upside down, prevents him from calling out to you. (Not that he would know what to say.)

You’re facing him when you angle yourself to mount your horse, and before you hoist yourself up, you spot him, and without missing a beat, you smile. To the outsider, it appears as nothing more than a polite grin, the likes of which are shared with a stranger when catching their eyes across a room. But Link knows better, and he detects a similar recognition in your own gaze.

The smile reaches your eyes and it’s amused, and you watch each other for that brief second you take to throw your leg over your horse to sit down in the saddle. It feels like eternity and Link is aware of the wordless connection flittering between you, an unbridled excitement like you’re doing things you aren’t supposed to, like you’re sharing secrets you shouldn’t have learned of in the first place.

He stares after you, your horse, and your cart leaving the stable and continuing down the road, and he watches until you’ve gone over the hill and you’re gone from view. A small part of him wants to follow you, to see where you might go this time, but he gets the feeling that if he were to mount his horse and run after you, he’ll discover you’ve disappeared into thin air, like a magic trick. Perhaps that hot air balloon of yours is secretly good for flying after all, and you take off in it when you’re far away from any prying eyes. So he figures he’ll spend his hours traveling through Hyrule with his eyes on the sky, in search of a mismatched patchwork balloon.

#link x reader #botw imagine #legend of zelda imagine #botw x reader #legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda #bubble-tea-bunny #queue

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general-fox-hux · 4 years

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Fic [3/?]

Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, post-TLJ (TFA and TLJ-compliant, TRoS will be ignored), except it’s Modern AU with magic and magical creatures

Category: Gen

Warnings: canon-typical violence; Rey’s attachment issues

Relationships: Armitage Hux and Rey (NOT Reyux)

Characters: Rey; Armitage Hux; Leia Organa; Rose Tico; Finn; Poe Dameron; Kylo Ren

Additional ‘tags’: fox!Armitage Hux; fox spirit!Armitage Hux; witch!Kylo Ren; witch!Rey

Please note:

some TRoS elements, like new characters, may appear in the future;

warnings may change and there will be chapter-specific warnings

I’m still torn about which ships are going to appear (as a side part of the story AND as a main ship) if they will, so if you’re concerned about a sudden ship happening that you don’t like, feel free to send me an ask

Summary:

Witch Kylo Ren turns fox spirit Hux into a regular fox and sends him to spy on Rey.

Rey tries very hard not to get attached to the ‘stray’ that found her.

Hux must fight his fox instincts, his hatred towards the Resistance, and his own empathy. Oh no!

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Part 1 | Part 2

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Warnings: unhealthy lifestyles, one of them due to poverty

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The girl, Rey, hangs her coat on one of the three hooks by the door, next to the key-bowl. She’s so much smaller than Ren and yet she beat the shit out of him twice. Hux can’t help but envy her powers.

‘Fine,’ she says. ‘You make yourself at home and I’ll clean up your mess.’

MY mess? Hux thinks. You’re the one who dropped it.

Huffing softly, he walks into a small space that looks like a tiny sitting room connected to even tinier kitchen. He hates it.

There are cracks in the walls and old rust patches on the tiles. In some places, worn wooden floor squeaks even under his light steps. The furniture is sparse, mismatched, and old, except for a three-seat midnight blue sofa which looks comfortable and relatively new, if rather tasteless. On it, lies something Hux identifies as a pale pink blanket he itches to fold neatly.

It’s not as bad as it could have been (he’d imagined cockroaches, mould on the walls, and piles of dirty dishes and trash), but he still hates it.

He can smell several different people, but the girl must have been here alone for at least a few weeks. Ren told him as much, but wasn’t able to determine if Organa ever visited.

Hux spent the last two days observing the building and planning how to get inside. He noticed the girl leaving early in the morning and coming back late, but decided against following her just yet. He’s had no water and no food, hasn’t slept at all, and now he’s exhausted.

There’s one positive side to this situation, though: for the foreseeable future, he’ll be free from Ren. He hopes whatever ordeal the girl is going to put him through, it’ll be worth it. Chances for that are pretty good: Ren has set the bar unbelievably low.

Hux jumps onto the sofa and takes stock of the things lying on a coffee table: an empty mug, an official-looking piece of paper that could be a bill, and a closed laptop, the latter probably worthy of inspecting. Before the girl finishes and enters the room, he also has the time to note that the coffee table is missing one leg and there’s a pile of books in its place keeping the thing steady.

‘I see you’ve made yourself comfortable,’ the girl comments and then she sits next to him which immediately causes him to tense, his aversion to unnecessarily close proximity to humans taking over. It doesn’t escape her attention. ‘Ah, you’re quite reserved. Listen, fox... I’m sure you’ll get back to your home.’

So maybe he didn’t do his homework and has no idea how domesticated foxes behave. But he needs to convince her, somehow, or else she figures out there’s something wrong with him. He suspects imitating dogs might be what she expects. Nice dogs, not the aggressive ones. Cuddly dogs. Ugh.

He inches closer to the girl, observing her face. Rey smiles and reaches to run her hand over his head and neck. And again. And again. It’s actually pleasant, just like it was before. He can’t help closing his eyes and leaning into the touch.

‘Fine, you’re adorable. I guess.’

Does she always talk to animals as if they could understand?

‘What am I supposed to do with you?’

Apparently yes.

He tries to give her a begging look, hating Ren to the bone.

‘I guess you’ll stay here for the night and I’ll think about it tomorrow,’ Rey decides.

Hux also hates her planning skills. He has to convince her to let him stay longer, though, so better to focus on pretending he likes her.

Moving as close to the girl as possible without touching her, he glances up at her face. She looks rather tired, but gives him a little smile, and resumes stroking his head.

‘Why do you have to be so soft?’ she asks, false anger in her voice.

It’s almost like a test of Hux’s self control. Yes, Rey probably means the word positively, but that is not what he’s used to. In his world, “soft” means “most likely to get stepped on”.

‘Well, I’mma brush my teeth and change for bed,’ the girl announces. ‘If you want out, it’s now or in the morning.’

Hux doesn’t respond in any way, and Rey disappears behind the door opposite from the one leading to the sitting room / kitchen. Turning his head, he eyes the closed laptop. As usual with Ren, his orders are vague and make no sense at best (despite him promising Hux details) or are just a means to get rid of Hux at worst. What do you know, maybe Ren assumed Rey would have called the animal control. Or that Hux would have been killed by a car or hunters even before he’d reached Rey’s place.

Well, no point in worrying about that now. He’s got his orders and he will follow them. It’s not like he’s got a choice...

Hearing Rey’s steps, he lies down on the sofa, trying to look casual.

‘Well, come on,’ the girl tells him. She’s wearing thick-looking pyjama pants and a sweater – the apartment must be cold, but he can’t tell with his winter fur.

Raising his head, he stares at her in confusion. Is she going to try and throw him out after all?

Hux jumps off the sofa and follows Rey cautiously. Instead of leading him to the front door, she takes him to the room opposite it.

It turns out to be her bedroom. Hux looks around it, then walks to a midnight blue armchair (probably from the same set as the sofa) and sniffs at it, but before he has a chance to examine the things scattered on the seat, Rey huffs at him impatiently, ‘Listen, ginger ball, you can do your sightseeing tomorrow, okay? I don’t care if you sleep at night, as long as you stay in bed and not move too much.’

Hux preferred when she was afraid of him. It takes him a moment to process the meaning of her words. Stay in bed? She expects him to sleep in her bed? With her?

He doesn’t do that. He doesn’t share beds.

The girl pats her bed which is... surprisingly, unnecessarily huge, taking almost half of the room’s space. It could easily fit three people; four if they squeezed a bit. ‘Come here,’ Rey says, her tone definitely like one used with dogs.

Feeling the hairs at the base of his tail standing on end in anger, Hux forces himself to calm down. Yes, it’s all very humiliating, but he was humiliated many times in his life, and it never stopped him from doing what had to be done.

He jumps onto the bed and stands there, not quite sure how to proceed. Rey turns off the lamp on the bedside table and slips under at least three blankets.

Instinctively, Hux makes a few circles before curling into a ball as far from the girl as possible.

‘Goodnight, fox,’ Rey says.

He doesn’t respond.

Then, the girl’s stomach growls and she sighs heavily.

‘Don’t be alarmed, ginger ball, it’s just my stomach,’ she explains, unnecessarily. ‘I usually don’t eat in the evenings.’

Noted, Hux thinks, mentally rolling his eyes.

‘It’s funny though,’ Rey continues. ‘I used to eat only in the evenings. We would get food for the whole day’s work. It’s much better now, even if I can’t exactly afford five meals per day.’

Hux is so not interested in the details of her life. Ren told him to pay attention to everything, though, so he listens intently. And if his brain keeps showing him the images of the cherry yoghurt the girl tried to share with him, then well, brains work in unexpected ways sometimes. It just reminds him that Rey is the soft one and this is exactly why Ren’s idiotic plan might work. She’s basically asking for it.

Rey’s shivering now and it’s fucking annoying, the entire mattress shaking. This place must be really cold.

At least she’s stopped talking, he thinks, about twenty minutes later. The shivering doesn’t cease.

After another few minutes of this nonsense, Hux huffs, gets up again, and wriggles his way under the blankets lying on his belly alongside the girl’s front, his head tucked under her chin.

This is absurd.

#POV Hux #Hux hates everything #fox!Hux fic

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jacquetta1906-blog · 7 years

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macroversion · 7 years

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CASE FILE NO. 001 ◈ ABILITIES

“I’m their every nightmare they ever had, I’m their worst dream come true. I’m everything they’re ever afraid of.”

He’ll drive them crazy, and then, he’ll kill them all.

❖┋ DISCLAIMER: I do not claim this whole idea of Cujo’s origin and development(s) as mine. Full credit is legally owned by Mr. Stephen Edwin King who owns the whole magnificent universe, which I heavily based on.

SHAPESHIFTING

Confirmed Tier: UNKNOWN.

Cujo can immediately transform himself to any kind of being, taking the frightful image directly from the victim’s mind, regardless the size or nature of the mental image. He took the form of a giant plastic statue, several small life entities ー flying leeches ー or several human-sized entities.

Between shapeshifting, Cujo is an orange amorphous goo, which is somewhat close to his true form. Some may disagree, however, saying that the spider is the closest to Cujo’s true form. Others may argue that the caucasian man is Cujo’s true form. This is untrue, however, the caucasian human is only Cujo’s most favoured form.

ILLUSIONS

Confirmed Tier: 7-C TOWN LEVEL.

Cujo can create many different illusions, which are realistic enough to harm his victims. These illusions include moving photographs, blood gushing, small but shocking entities such as cricket, mutant fly, teeth, and an eyeball, different noises and music (including human speech), and various smells (popcorn, cotton candy, rotten cadavers).

The partial invisibility fully applies on all of these illusions, as only the chosen victims can actually see and sense them.

After a short period of time, or when the victim actually sees through the illusion, these illusions will cease to exist. It is imperative, however, to see through the illusion perfectly.

PARTIAL INVISIBILITY

Only those who actually believe or have knowledge about Cujo’s existence are able to see Cujo although Cujo can become fully visible to anybody when it’s necessary or wishes to do so.

REGENERATION

While Cujo is clearly not invulnerable, and in fact can be wounded and damaged in lesser to greater degrees, Cujo can almost spontaneously regenerate.

This ability of Cujo appears to be untrustworthy; it is unclear how Cujo utilises his quick regeneration abilities, but it might be a necessarily-corporeal ability. Opinions differ about whether or not Cujo could be killed merely with heavy firepower and weapons in physical form.

TELEPATHY

Confirmed Tier: 6-A CONTINENT LEVEL.

Cujo can read minds ー this ability is the one Cujo most exploits, usually when taking on a form, but in several cases, Cujo can clearly read other people’s thoughts and exploit them to Cujo’s own advantage.

He can also communicate telepathically.

Brainwashing/Mind Control.

Cujo has the power of brainwashing several minds simultaneously. This also suggests that he has the ability to erase particular things from a person’s memory or knowledge. This hugely affects the minds of the locals who live within Maine ー making them indifferent about the terrible events and massacres that are taking place. Generally, it appears that the weaker willed citizens and visitors succumb to Cujo’s powerful mind control.

This ability presumably has no effect on people outside the American continent’s boundary.

TELEPORTATION

Confirmed Tier: 1-C COMPLEX MULTIVERSE LEVEL.

Cujo can teleport himself and limited numbers of people by disappearing without a trace and reappearing somewhere else a bit later. Although this is a very useful and effective ability, Cujo doesn’t seem to exploit this too often.

FLORA-CIDE

With a touch, Cujo can instantly cause plants to die.

TELEKINESIS

Confirmed Tier: 7-B CITY LEVEL.

Cujo can manipulate inanimate objects; making them fall, float around, and behave supernaturally. This includes locking doors and electronic devices.

WEATHER CONTROL

Confirmed Tier: UNKNOWN.

Cujo may be able to effect the weather to a limited region. On more than one occasion when he faced Carrie, the weather changes into a thunderstorm; most notably at the final confrontation, which actually results in the devastation of Connecticut’s downtown region.

PHOTOKINESIS

As suggested by Cujo’s true form, the Deadlights, in addition to be able to create illusions.

META SUMMONING

Confirmed Tier: 1-C COMPLEX MULTIVERSE LEVEL

Cujo possesses a dimension of infinite possibilities within himself, from which he can summon any kind of object or entity, with any traits and abilities of any level.

They have a will of their own; their minds usually connected to better serve them. All summons share an ABSOLUTE and UNBREAKABLE loyalty towards the user, being fundamentally incapable of disobeying their orders or turning against them.

ABSOLUTE IMMORTALITY

Any injuries Cujo suffers will heal ー although not always immediately ー even if Cujo’s body is disintegrated or blown up or completely deleted, even if Cujo is completely destroyed to the sub-atomic level, he will still return to life.

PARADOX MANIPULATION

Confirmed Tier: 2-B MULTIVERSE LEVEL

Cujo is able to surpass and ignore the laws of reality, logic, common sense, etc., making him able to cause anything to happen or not happen.

ULTIMATE ERASURE

Confirmed Tier: 1-B HYPERVERSE LEVEL

Cujo can destroy everything without limits, from concepts, power, feelings, boundaries and causation, to studies like metaphysics and science, even irrational “concepts” like the fabric of nothingness or the totality itself.

◈ THE BOUNDARY

THE RITUAL OF CHÜD

**!! NOTICE !!**: The writer shall provide you further information in case you’re getting curious.

The Ritual of Chüd is a battle of wills with advice that is given by Maturin ー the Turtle and one of the twelve Guardians of the Beams that hold up the Dark Tower ー and is the only way to defeat the creatures of Macroverse; as well as Cujo.

The ritual is a psychic battle in which the two forces duel with their wits. People commonly believe that metal silvers have supernatural abilities, as seen in numerous monster movies. Because many people believe in it, it becomes real and they are the chief weapon used in the ritual.

Damage inflicted by Irreversible Destruction cannot be regenerated.

Some targets may be immune to his illusion, mainly those who either have the ability of creating an equally strong illusion or other mental ability.

People with Danger Sense may be able to distinguish a fake illusion by telling which one is really a threat.

Cujo cannot summon an Omnipotent being.

Without proper precautions before summoning, Cujo may remain vulnerable.

While using Ultimate Erasure, Cujo can neither create nor manipulate anything.

The effects of Ultimate Erasure may be reversed by an equally strong Absolute Recreation.

Ultimate Erasure may be undone by Absolute Restoration/Flawless Restoration.

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