#the poem of the wind and trees spoiler

[kazetokinouta-a]

[syneilesis]

[fic] if only for a moment

if only for a moment

Love and Deepspace | Rafayel (Qi Yu) x Main-Character!Reader | T | 3.6k words | ao3 link (with correct formatting)

Rafayel waits. And waits. And waits.

A/N: Another LaD fic!! This time it's Rafayel. Several elements of this fic are inspired by and loosely based on his story anecdotes and bond story, plus that Deep Sea card line backdrop. So more spoilers in this one, I'm afraid. I think you need to be aware of them in order to follow the flow of the fic. But if not, here's what you need to know: basically Rafayel accepts a visiting professorship at the University of Linkon to reunite with the MC/you. And the prose poetry interspersed are loosely situated in the Deep Sea card lineup setting (you can search in YouTube for the scenes. This one is a brief glimpse of the scene). That princess/knight(??) dynamic is yum yum.

If possible, please read the version on AO3. I formatted the prose poems there as if they're really prose poetry, so I'd appreciate it if you check that out. (Though there isn't too much difference between the formatting here and there, I did make the effort of coding a little 🥺)

Anyhoo, hope you enjoy, and I am sO STOKED FOR THE OFFICIAL RELEASE. rip my wallet 💸😭

JUST LOOK AT THIS MAN AND BELIEVE

There’s a type of berry in a distant land that produces a rare shade of ink that matches the color of your eyes. It takes a hundred of them to create the right hue and volume for the art that he wants to make. It comes to him in a dream: endless desert, then fireworks of verdant sparks that coalesce into stem, leaf, and, finally, fruit. Rafayel remembers that land, so much different from the iridescent blue of ocean underwater, and the acrid gold of the barren desert. His mouth filled with the succulent sweetness of the dream, the lingering sandpaper roughness of the berries on his fingers. He already knows the name of the artwork even before he’s begun—Waiting, Missing. The ache in his bones gaining form, an intangible thing taking flesh.

+

Under the ocean surface, time is muted, a deafening thickness that surrounds you with its ambiguity. On land, however, it is linear, and fast, and in a matter of blinks, Rafayel’s visiting professorship nearly wraps up.

He’s only glimpsed you once or twice. Thrice at most. The university is big, but not big enough to warrant a dearth of fateful encounters. The first time he saw you it was at a coffee shop: walking along with your friends outside, your voice mellifluous and festive wafting through the trellis of the café entrance. You were talking about him—well, about Lemuria to be specific, but these days any talk of Lemuria inevitably draws in his name.

He’s committed your schedule to memory, and yet it just seems impossible to capture a moment with you. Even just a brush of shoulders, or of sleeves—an asymptote of contact. Just navigating around your orbit, but never truly meeting.

What would it be like—finally talking to you? You in front of him, face to face? Rafayel imagines the ache of waiting fading into the background until it’s completely gone. He yearns for that feeling, the release of it. A conclusion—or maybe even a beginning.

+

i. take my hand, he told you under the glow of the lustrous moon, the only source of light that contoured the secretive valleys of his face. i want to show your highness something. there was a country, he said, beyond the undulating monochrome of the desert, blanketed by lush trees and shrubberies and flowers that buildings were made in betwixt and around them—a nation of trailing and winding architecture, a marriage of the natural and the manmade. you wanted to ask why he’d planned on taking you there, and the only answer you got was a curt turn of his head and the profile of a masked man layered by shadows and distance. it would have been nice, you thought, if the moon poured light upon his hooded gaze.

+

Eventually he begins to frequent the café. Twice a week at first—he doesn’t want to come off strong right away, of course—and then making his way up until he’s hanging out there more than his own studio. He schedules his visits around your classes, always during the ones when the probability of you dropping by the café is high and he can ‘coincidentally’ be around the same area. It’s gotten to a point that Thomas calls him out on it, and nags at him to focus more on his painting. The next exhibit is immediately after his visiting professorship after all.

“From where I’m standing,” Thomas says, “you’re not painting at all.”

Rafayel ignores him.

Five minutes later, he says, “Not painting is part of the painting process.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, but he leaves him to it.

At the café, Rafayel attracts curious looks. A few attempt to approach him, but he pretends not to see them. They linger around the periphery, like moths to flame.

And then something happens: the entrance door chimes, and you swan into the coffee shop, earphones and denim overall skirt, the kind of rosy-cheeked image Rafayel finds on teen magazines, wide-eyed and earnest. You fall in line and order when it’s your turn, and your eyes sweep across the packed café searching for a vacant seat until they finally land on him.

Rafayel’s heart stumbles.

Up close, the baby fat on your cheeks still gives you the appearance of being younger than you actually look. You turn a polite smile his way, and his heart stutters again—but this time it is taken as a warning.

“Hi,” you say, tentative. Any hint of recognition absent. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

+

ii. you're counting the steps of your inevitable parting. you're at the edge of the desert, far away from your home and its familiar scents, oriented towards a direction that promised a future sad memory, the gentle warmth of his hand, the downward denial of his gaze. this longing that grew out of your bones, aching during cold, aching during heat, aching when he looked at you with such tenderness he had to hide it through the sharp tug of your joined hands, the long strides that opened up a lonely distance. intimacy was dangerous, knowing was dangerous, the bowels of his heart like a solitary flower on a high peak. what would you do to such loneliness?

+

Memory isn't always an infallible thing. The human brain cannot hang on to every moment of your life, though Rafayel wishes it were so. But still—to think that you would forget him, and it hasn’t even been a century. You were like a phantom thief stealing his heart in the night—no recourse, no resolution.

To wait is to be in agony, the burn of yearning locked within the heart. Rafayel has been waiting for a long time, and the only memory scorched in his heart is fire, the blaze and its blinding, all-consuming want.

What would you do to such want?

+

You have a blurry childhood, Rafayel discovers. After the first Wanderer descended on Earth, the incident strummed your memories like a stringed instrument that tired of the same chord, over and over. It had bothered you at first—not being in control of your own memories—but eventually you had learned to live with it.

“Grandma and Caleb—my childhood friend—helped me through the process,” you tell him, stirring your iced mocha with its straw. “I owe them a lot.”

Eyes cast down, but still the melancholy shadows remain in your expression. Rafayel folds his arms on the table, and leans closer.

Around them only a few people occupy the coffee shop at this time. How fortunate for Rafayel to catch you during your break while every other student is trapped in class lectures.

“There’s no use in dwelling upon what's already happened. Even sharks have to give up when their prey escapes. When you remember, it will be all the more joyous, no?”

The smile you give him is crooked, disbelieving.

“If I remember.”

“You’ll remember.” Because there’s no other choice, for you and for him. Rafayel cannot bear being shelved in the history of your smile and happiness. Waiting can only be endurable if there’s an endpoint.

+

In his studio, Rafayel begins his next painting.

+

iii. the berries tasted sweet, with an edge of sourness that clung to the bottom of the tongue. it had the exact shade of your eyes, a detail that rafayel brought up the moment he plucked it from the shrub. raising it to align with your eyes, comparing them with his artist's meticulous gaze. maybe when this is all over, i'll go back here again to extract ink from these berries, and paint a portrait of your highness using these to color your eyes. he never showed you any of his paintings, merely mentioned them in passing, and you constructed a dream of him from the throwaway words that left his covered lips. i'm not used to sitting for so long, you reminded him, and he glanced at you, then at the berry between his fingers. my memory is enough, then handed you the fruit.

+

In the few weeks of meeting with you Rafayel forgets that his visiting professorship is ending soon and he has to give out his last lecture. Thomas had asked him what his topic would be. At that point Rafayel had no answer. But now he has.

“I’ve been hearing you talk about Lemuria every now and then with your friends.” He props his cheek on his hand, tilting his head slightly and giving you a charming smile. “Interested?”

You blink. “How did you know?”

“Oh, I’ve seen you a couple of times here, and I happened to hear your friends chat about my lecture. Your points were almost accurate, I’m in awe.”

“The visiting professor—that’s you?!”

Rafayel pauses, the slosh of his drink nearly spilling on his frozen hand.

“You didn’t know?”

Sheepish, you say, “Honestly, I didn’t make the connection. Is that why plenty of people have been glaring at me as of late?”

He releases a frustrated sigh, eyes rolling heavenward.

“In any case, my final lecture is on Friday next week. It’s titled “Memory and Meaning in Lemurian Art”. Why don’t you drop by and listen, and you can tell me what you think afterwards.”

You retrieve your bullet journal to check your schedule. It’s colorful, filled with stickers and doodles that Rafayel finds endearing. Then the excited moue on your face drops into a frown, and Rafayel can foresee the next words that will come out of your downturned lips.

“I’m sorry,” you say guiltily, “but I have a major test that day, and I need to get a high score in order to pass the course.”

Rafayel exhales, long and weary, but ultimately shrugs off the apology. “What a shame, but I forgive you. Just don’t fail your exam or else my magnanimity would be all for nothing.”

+

He calls Thomas that night.

“I’ll disappear for a while once the professorship is over.”

“Hey, wait, what do you me—”

“You’ll be happy to know that this is for my next painting.”

A beat. “Okay … but for how long?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Then he hangs up.

+

He’s trying, he really does. The lecture ends to a resounding applause, and it’s mechanical how he answers the questions posed by the audience. But he’s trying, he’s trying. There’s no specter of you in the sea of faces in the auditorium. You’re at the other end of the university compound, sweating your way through your exam. He genuinely hopes you’d pass, for your sake.

Thomas had booked his flight to another country, where he’ll traverse to a land that he’d visited many times in his dreams and had woken up with a filmy, sweet-sour tang at the roof of his mouth. He’ll leave the morning after the closing dinner party the faculty has prepared for him. There isn’t time to pack much, and no time to tell you goodbye.

Rafayel guesses that it’s only fair: how would you feel waiting for him at that café, the chair across you empty, only the sunlight pooling from the window as your companion?

+

iv. parting, somebody once said, is such a sweet sorrow. much like those berries in that ever-green nation, a lingering sourness remained underneath, the sting of it reminding you every now and then. he was already mourned for even before he left. tell me what it's like—the ocean. he was elusive, untouchable in his grief. you'd heard through whispers, the story of his migration, the drowning before the drying, the unwanted journey. grief brought him to you and grief would steal him away from you, you knew, down to the cells of your body and the hopelessness in your blood. —and yet. and yet you wanted to have a taste of it, anyway.

+

The ever-green land is no longer green, or lush, or alive. Time corroded it into memory, sepia-faded, wizened. Past. The berries he’s searching for don’t grow here anymore. Everything here is empty, barren, helplessly so.

Rafayel hasn’t accounted for such development, but he should have known. Disappointment stings at his chest, and bitterly he turns away and stays at the next town over. At a family-run restaurant situated near the outskirts, he looks over the wide windows, across the highway road, beyond the jagged horizon. The painting won’t be finished, then. Another tragedy, pressed flat next to the forgetting, to the waiting, and his home.

The chef personally serves him his order and, after a shuffle of hesitation, brings up a question.

“Young man, you came from the direction of the old country, yeah?”

Rafayel meets his inquisitive gaze. “Yes, why?”

“It’s been a while since we had someone visiting that place. There’s nothing in there anymore, it’s been that way for years. Why did you go there?”

Rafayel is reluctant to say, but at the guileless set of the older man’s face, he concedes.

“I was looking for berries. The ones native there. They produce a shade that I need for my painting.”

At the mention of the fruit, the chef’s expression lights up. “Oh! I see, I see. You’re in luck, son. We grow them here at the farm. Plenty of those for everyone. How about I give you some? It’s rare meeting someone who still remembers the old country, it’s almost fate. How many did you say you need?”

Fate. Just like the time of your first meeting, as if the universe had gifted you to him. Just like the time of your parting, of your forgetting, of his waiting. Fate as a connection from you to him, red and burning brightly.

He doesn’t want to seem eager, but he knows he’s failed from the way the chef toothily grins at him.

“A hundred or so.”

The chef falters at that, jerking slightly back. But he accepts it with a nod, an avuncular smile making its way across his kind, powdery features.

“That sure is a huge number, but I think we can work something out.”

+

His painting takes a month to complete, inclusive of the time spent making the ink from the acquired berries. Sometimes, Thomas watches him paint, quiet in the background. His stays usually don’t last—a quick flash that Rafayel nearly misses, or deliberately ignores. But during the final stages of the painting process, Thomas hands him the exhibit details.

“I’m just thankful you’re on time for this one.” He sighs, relieved, then leaves.

Alone, Rafayel creates. Brushstroke after careful brushstroke, each varying by pressure and angle. He lets each layer of paint dry before moving onto the next. The berry ink—the color of your eyes—the solely different element of this painting. Center, central. The focal point. The beating heart. The years and years of waiting and longing. The form and the flesh. Alive.

This, too, is an endpoint.

+

v. can i see your face, just this once? your hands grazed his mask like a ghost wanting to touch. rafayel stayed still beneath your desirous fingers, observing, waiting, his own fingers twitching towards his dagger. even in the parting he could not let go of this distance. hopeless, hopeless. your highness would get nothing out of seeing my face. he's wrong, his eyes never left your face, and he's wrong. he didn't stop you from your grasping of his mask, and him—finally—bare and beautiful yet a little sad. you're wrong, you said, tracing his slightly parted lips with a trembling finger, you're wrong. it is everything to me.

+

The gallery is packed. No surprise there. It’s almost boring, in a way. Waiting, Missing hangs at the farthest hall in the floor, special and intimate as it should be. Thomas knows him well; otherwise, Rafayel would have whined at him to hell and back just so he could be granted this demand that is in reality a mandate.

He’s hiding from the throngs of journalists and art critics alike and sequesters himself in a corner that has a clear view of the painting. Loosening his collar and tie, Rafayel breathes and closes his eyes, leans tiredly against the wall. A few more minutes, and he’ll slink out of the building, reputation be damned.

He melts into the shadows whenever somebody passes by. He has neither time nor energy interacting with people today. Watching them through half-mast eyes, Rafayel stays in his secret place and studies with weightless detachment the people looking at the painting.

He’s made a bet with himself about the opinions of his followers and admirers. Who thinks what and why. It makes for great entertainment. The last time, a fresh-faced critic praised Rafayel’s technique as “innovative and a soul-rending reflection of the prodigy’s character.” He had laughed and laughed for hours until he couldn’t breathe any longer.

Another walks by, and before Rafayel retreats further into the corner, he glimpses a familiar gait and a familiar face.

His heartbeat races. He’s never told you that he’s holding an exhibit today. After the professorship Rafayel failed to maintain communication with you, convincing himself that it’s for the best that he protect you from afar that day onwards. It didn’t help that he had to leave as well. At the same time, you never made an effort of reaching out, and Rafayel thought that it was back to square one again, that waiting, that yearning.

But here you are right now, elegantly dressed, like someone gliding out of a dream. Rafayel swallows, his hands shake. You do not have someone else with you, and your eyes are brightly focused on Waiting, Missing, and for a fleeting moment your expression flickers into longing, strange and old and battered and sad, that it compels Rafayel to take a step forward—to you.

“Hey.”

The curious look vanishes; left no traces in your delighted face, as if it wasn’t there in the first place. “Rafayel!” you exclaim. “Long time no see! Congratulations on the exhibit; these are all beautiful.”

Outwardly he smirks, belying the torrential emotions he’s currently going through. He cants his head a little, works his charm on you. “Impressed? No need to hold back your compliments.”

Laughter, prismatic and crystalline. “Yes, yes. Especially this one—Waiting, Missing. What an interesting title. At the center, what paint did you use?”

Ah. Rafayel inhales before answering. “It’s actually ink. I had to make it from a hundred berries. It was a tedious process, but I wouldn’t use anything else. It has to be this, you see.”

“Whoa, no wonder you’d been radio silent all this time. You were creating this masterpiece.”

He hums, afraid that, if he speaks, he’d reveal too much.

“Well …” You throw a playful glance at him. “Shouldn’t we celebrate your success?”

His breath catches. “I—”

Before he manages to finish the sentence, a journalist calls out to him and that summons plenty more, swarming him with no chance of escape. It pushes you out of his peripheral vision, and Rafayel wants to shout your name, but you smile and gesture at him to entertain them first. You mouth, I’ll be back, and wander around other paintings some more.

When he finally succeeds in shaking the journalists off, he seeks you out and stumbles upon you near the exit, where there’s fewer people to pile on him.

“Excellent,” he says, sidling up beside you. You turn to him and smile, and there’s that lightning-flash of something again. For one unbelievably surreal instant, Rafayel thinks that despite your hazy memories, maybe you’d been waiting for him all this time, too.

And that thought emboldens him, moving closer and closer until your bodies almost touch. An asymptote of contact. But this time, he has mustered the courage to close that unbridgeable gap.

Rafayel offers you his hand. “Let’s get out of here?”

You stare at his hand then at his face, his eyes, and a meaningful moment stretches between you and him. But even before the idea of retracting enters his mind, you grab his hand joyfully, grinning ear to ear. His heart warms, full with everything.

You squeeze his hand, ready to go. “Lead the way, then!”

+

vi. a kiss is a greeting and a goodbye, and rafayel tasted of ferocious tides even if you'd seen them only in dreams. his eyes closed, as though savoring his last moments with you, guarded till the bitter end. would that i could ask you to stay—with me. but he shook his head—a final rejection. maybe in another life. there was nobody to watch you cry, in the after.

+

Rafayel is working on a new painting—a portrait this time. The model squirms on his couch, obvious about the discomfort of posing for too long. He huffs a laugh to himself, hidden by the canvas strategically placed between them.

“I heard that,” you grumble.

“Shush, you’re breaking my concentration.”

“If that already breaks your focus then I pity the rest of the art community.” A beat, then: “Is it done?”

“Patience, my dear muse. You need endure it a little more.”

“Hmph, fine. But after this you’re treating me to an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

“All right, all right.” He shakes his head, fond. “My muse, so demanding.”

Something sweet touches the edge of his tongue, succulent with a hint of tartness. Like longing. Except now, it’s layered with something new and exciting. Something like a new beginning.

In the far distance, the sea murmurs, lit fire by the setting sun.

[strawberrylabs]

Goodnight with Genshin characters! (Pt 1)

Featuring: Lyney, Freminet, Kazuha, Venti, Cyno and Childe

Summary: Nights with some of the Genshin cast based on their voice lines!

Warnings: some of these are quite angsty!(it depends on the voice line of the character), and some also contain spoilers for character lore!

Note: this is my apology post for being a solid 19 posts behind whumptober and ignoring my inbox<///3 im getting there guys I promise!!!

Lyney! (125)

"Good night. If you have trouble falling asleep, I have a few little props used for hypnosis that might help... or Maybe not. Either way, sweet dreams!"

Lyney's gentle smile after his comedic suggestion helps you feel at ease. He comes up with something different every night- you really don't know how he hasn't run out of magic-related-sleep-remedies yet.

He often goes to bed after you. Whether he's up practising some magic for his next show or doing some work for Father in the veil of the night doesn't matter to you. As long as you awake to find him there, unharmed, you can manage falling asleep with out him.

But, on the rare occaision he goes to bed at the same time as you, sharing in your night-time routine and holding your hand under the covers, the two of you can stay up for hours talking about anything, everything and nothing.

Freminet (156)

"You go ahead, I'm gonna stay up and read for a while. Hmm? What am I reading? It's, um... It's about diving. There's a bunch of skills I need to... Anyway, night!"

It's not uncommon for Freminet to read before bed. If you're lucky, he may even read with you next to him, allowing you to read along, always checking to make sure you've finished the page before turning.

Althought every night he says he's reading about diving, or marine life, or automechs, you've learned to pick up on the slight rouge of his cheeks, and the stutter that becomes a little more apparent when he lies about what he's reading. It's on these nights you know he's reading about Pers, and it's on these nights you know to leave him be.

Whether he chooses to sleep with you- in the same bed or the same room or the same house- you know not to betray that trust. And for as long as you respect him and his boundaries, he will be grateful.

Sometimes, in the night, you think you feel yourself awake to a faint 'thank you',

Kazuha (194)

"The wind has ceased... The world is silent, so now is the best time to rest well. See you tomorrow."

Kazuha often doesn't join you during the night, whether you are choosing to sleep or stay up. He opts to sit in the crows nest of the crux, listening to the silence of the night. He'll swear that from up there, it appears as if the world itself has gone to sleep with the night- the sea acts as a blanket for the life below, the stars and moon a night light for the trees and the sand and the surf, the clouds casting a shadow of calm upon the land.

Kazuha spends his nights writing about what he sees, and when you awake you find a poem written in his hand about how the beauty of the night reminds him of you.

On the nights when the land is not calm with dreams, but instead enraged with nightmares, he will sit with you in your cabin, and chat about the day gone by. Despite the conditions outside your walls, you sleep best on those nights. The nights where you awake to find you had both fallen asleep with smiles on your faces, after long conversations that drift into the night on lovesick clouds.

Venti

"Off to the land of nod? Haha, farewell, my friend!" (318)

You loath the nights where Venti bids you goodnight without joining you. You can tell by looking at the way he looks everywhere but you, by the way he laughs- hollow and false, so unlike his usual mellodic, spring filled chuckles- and you can tell by the way he says "friend", that he'll be spending his night alone in the hands of his statue, or at Windrise, or at Stormterrors lair. You know he'll be contemplating the centuries of his past.

He'll sit in his own hands, because they're not really his hands, but the hands of his first companion; and by doing so he can feel that maybe the memory of that unnamed bard who he held so dear is not truly forgotten by his people- after all, they built a statue of him, even if they did it unknowingly. He'll gaze at the bark and the leaves of the tree at Windrise, and recall how he let Mondstadt fall into the hands of couption and tyranny due to his negligance the first time around. He'll gaze upon the ruin's of Stormterro's lair- of Old Mondstadt- and replay the events from thousands of years ago, when he was just too weak, too slow, too powerless to save the first being to make him feel something.

You know you should leave him alone. Let him sort through his mind and his memories. But you also know that his mind plays the nastiest, cruelist of tricks on him- dragging him down with nightmares and jabs of "what if's" and "why's".

So when he turns to retreat into the neverending chasm of his mind, you reach out and grab his hand. You follow him into the chasm, and help brighten the darkness with the light of your presence.

Venti is reluctant to admit it- but he will.

'The monsters of my mind seem a little less scary with you here.'

Cyno

"Goodnight. Now, there's some criminal activity nearby that I'll go deal with."

You can't help but worry about Cyno when he says he's going out late to deal with something like this. You know as the General Mahamatra he has various responsibilities he must uphold. But when you're alone at night, your thoughts wander, and you ponder more on his situation.

You wonder, if his father hadn't suffered such a fate, would Cyno still be doing such dangerous jobs as a Matra? Or would he be a regular Spantamad scholar of the Akademiya? If he hadn't been pushed into this position, would he be lying with you now, drifting to a dreamless sleep with you, and not risking his life without recognition- or at least not the recognition he deserves.

You know it's not your place to think these things. Cyno is happy with his job, happy to follow after his Father, regardless of what things are said about him.

You quash your fears and your thoughts when you hear him return. He never left you for long. You knew he would always return to you. And he had every intention of doing so as long as the need remained.

Childe (182)

"Today was great. See you tomorrow, comrade!"

You always chuckled at his Ajax's tendancy to call everyone comrade. You teased him about it whenever it happened, and he always laughs with you and exclaims 'it's just habit!'

You know Ajax is busy, and he'd have less work during the day if he worked through the night. But he always insists on going to bed with you.

He created a bed-time-skin-care routine for you both- courtesy of him buying all the products. He puts is hair in a headband and follows the usual plan to a T.

When it's time to sleep, he smiles warmly at you. You pretend not to see the sadness in his eyes. He pretends it isn't there too.

So, for as long as the shadows of night will hide the pair of you, you'll bask in each others warmth, and soak up the laughter and the kisses you share.

And when the morning comes, as Ajax leaves to do jobs you never speak of, you will both eagerly await the fall of the sky's curtains, so you can forget the worries of reality once again.

Hope you enjoyed!

-Strawberry

Masterlist

Rules

[ballads-of-a-bluejay]

Elijah piece for a poem i wrote from his pov!!!

reblogs are appreciated <3

the full poem under the cut, it does contain spoilers

I watch him through the window

As he speaks into the microphone

I'd be breaking through the glass

But I know that he is not alone

That wretched man, that Architect

His sharp-edged glasses, stone-cold eyes

Winding back the clock of death,

He wiped away my love's demise

And next to him, an angel true

His holy light bathing the room

His ink-black hair and deathly skin

His face spells out my poor heart's doom

He runs from me, this perfect man

When I alone know *he is the sun*

I read the books, they burned my eyes

And now I know what must be done

He pushes through the trees and ferns

Aghast at what I've gathered here

I pour him tea, remove my mask

All of this to ease his fear

His eyelids flutter as I start to speak

He can't utter a single word

But still, I can tell he wants to leave

I sent him off, although it hurt

I've built this perfect pyre for two

For a pastor and his effigy

Crafted from tithes of our disciples

My work has kept me very busy

I watch the camp in silent patience

See them fall apart beneath my touch

The chaos of the everyday

Hides my plots beneath its rush

The day falls upon us all at last

The steady moon holds her head high

I preach to a captivated crowd

Tell them of salvation nigh

Cries of "our muse" fill stagnant air

I peel away back into the trees

Leave them to their madness

To worship on their hands and knees

I perch upon the pyre with him

The perfect picture of pristine peace

I preach to the people down below

Share the parables and the prophecies

They listen to me with eager ears

Eyes on the cherub by my side

The heat of flames lick at our feet

But Lord, I'm along for the ride

They've taken care of the Architect

He's pinned by their devoted weight

I read his words, the ones that sting

Laugh down upon his burning hate

He blasphemes me, my godly voice

Believes that he can stop the rapture

It's far too late to "save" his lover

With burning heels and broken stature

He curses me in desperate cries

The fire burns its way ever higher

I preach the vile and poisonous word

Of a filthy, sacrilegious liar

It slithers itself into my mind

Tears me apart from deep inside

Hear nothing but my pounding heart

Feel nothing but a shove to my spine

Bones crunch as I hit the ground

My broken heart hurts worse than them

As I look up, grieving, to the pyre

I see now he's corrupted by *him*

My perfect muse, engulfed in flames

Silhouetted by the crimson sky

He falls upon his hands and knees

"Don't call me that, I hope you die."

I bleed my anguish onto the soil

Weep for the traitor set ablaze

A penny loafer on my chest

I see the bastard through my haze

His sharp-edged glasses, stone-cold eyes

Blood and dirt crusted on his skin

He lifts a mirror to my face

I scream for aeons yet to begin

[snaililita]

🌼Halo of Flowers🌼

Lyney x Reader

Tooth-Rotting fluff!!

Reader's gender is unspecified!!

I've noticed a lot of Lyney angst fics... and a lot of Lyney fics haven't been radiating the same vibe that they were when Fontaine was first released.... So I wanted to make something happy and just... yknow... peaceful!! The twins and Freminet have been through a lot... I just wanna see them have a moment of tranquility:')

!!MILD SPOILERS: Snezhevichs' backstories and the ending of the Fontaine story! But it pretty much just goes "oh this isn't a threat anymore" doesn't really say how. But still, you have been warned.!!

You longed for moments like these. Peaceful, quiet moments where nothing but the wind singing harmonies from lands far away in your ears and the birds reciting poems about the sights they had seen on their travels from wherever they once were to where they are currently are present in the air. When it was just you and the people you love most enjoying life without worries of impending doom or where your next meal was to be had. These indeed were the best moments, the moments you lived for.

You, the magician twins, and their younger brother were all together in one place, safe and happy. Freminet was a little ways off in the distance, but not out of earshot, looking at sea shells. Lynette was off under a tree not too far off as well, preparing tea and a flip up table with snacks of hers. As for you? You sat out in the field with Lyney's head in your lap as you comb your fingers through his lovely blonde hair.

He looked so peaceful. There wasn't a single worry plaguing his mind right now. Everyone he loves is safe! And he hadn't any upcoming shows- Fontaine's flood crisis had been solved as well! You had to admit, the look of pure bliss is a wonderful fit for his handsome face. You couldn't help but smile as you felt your heart swell knowing just how truly happy he was right now. After everything he and his siblings have been through, he truly deserves this. They all do.

Intertwining your fingers with the blades of grass beneath your hand, you decide to look away from Lyney's hypnotic features for a moment. You're glad you did because you spotted a patch of sweet flowers and dandelions right within reach. Reaching out, you pick as many as one fist can hold before regretably retracting your other hand from your beloved's head for a moment.

This of course disturbs him, he opens his eyes briefly and catches the view of you weaving the stems of the flowers together as quickly as you can, clearly having not noticed him wake up. Working your nimble fingers dexterously, you quickly finished a flower crown. The yellow petals gave it the appearance of a halo, a halo befitting of the angel who's head you placed it upon.

You set the lovingly crafted crown on Lyney's head as gently as you could as to not disturb him, only for a cheeky grin to spread across his face and one of his stunning, violet eyes to peak at you from between his lashes. You had been caught! Lyney snickered at your appalled expression as he sat up, careful not to loose the crown in the process.

He looked so radiant and beautiful, truly like an angel that the stories from your childhood described. He had been through so much, burned and bruised, betrayed and scorned.... and yet... he still gave his heart to you. Willingly. And now he sits before you, smiling- laughing so joyously as if you were some sort of goddess that had descended upon him.

He seemed to notice your silence and staring, he asked what was wrong and you simply smiled and shook your head. You told him that you were captivated by his sparkle, and how he looked like an angel with that flower crown on. Your angel. He gently smiled and pulled you in for a hug, resting his head in your shoulder and sighed. It was not a sigh of exhaustion, rather a sigh of contentment.

You couldn't help but wrap your arms around him, accepting his embrace to the fullest. He leaned back before giving you another one of his cheshire like grins, then attacking you with an myriad of light pecks all over your face and neck. One after another, he was absolutely ruthless. You were giggling like a little baby due to your ticklish nature and Lyney's well placed smooches before a familiar voice called out.

"Well, I had made tea but by the looks of it, it appears you two's lips are already preoccupied so I suppose I'll have an extra few cups."

Lynette chided you and her brother. You two of course quickly pleaded with her as you scrambled to your feet, running off to her direction much to her amusement. Ah yes... peaceful moments like these truly are the best of them all. It's so wonderful knowing that these moments are to become much more frequent in the future.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[theogonies]

hiiii umm someone has probably already pointed this out but. uraume is almost definitely a gojo? and very possibly the progenitor of the entire gojo clan. putting the detailed analysis under the cut because this is a long ass post and very slightly spoiler-y for anime onlys

not a very convincing point on its own, but worth pointing out the obvious visual similarities between them. there are lots of other characters with light hair OR eyes but i can't think of any with both. also they're the only ones with pure white hair, even inumaki's is more of an ashy blond color.

but! into the more substantial stuff

according to the official fanbook, uraume and sukuna met 1,000 years ago, around the end of the heian period. in real world history, this was a relatively peaceful time during which japan began developing its own literary/political/intellectual cultures, thus becoming less reliant on china. in jjk, it's referred to as the golden age of sorcerers.

the relevant bit here being that the threat posed by sukuna was enough to draw the world of sorcerers together and push them to their limits.

here's where it gets interesting:

this common ancestor, sugawara no-michizane, was a real historical figure, a poet and politician who earned the support of the current emperor of japan, emperor uda, after lending the emperor his support in a political conflict with another noble family, the fujiwaras.

i mention them by name because in the culling games arc, uro calls yuta a fujiwara, not a sugawara--here's some interesting analysis for the curious. the relevant bit here is that while we don't know of any fujiwaras in the contemporary period, apart from maybe yuta, they were at some point an influential family of sorcerers in the jjk-verse. put a pin in that.

sugawara fell from favor after uda abdicated. eventually the fujiwara clan accused him of supporting the wrong candidate as successor to the emperor's throne, and he and his entire family were banished. sugawara died in exile.

a series of natural disasters led to the belief that sugawara's spirit was attempting to avenge its wrongful death. this is probably why maki refers to sugawara as "one of the three greatest japanese vengeful spirits." the real sugawara is now recognized as a benign deity in the shinto religion but it appears that this conversion never happened in jjk's alternate history, or that it isn't something the sorcerers recognize as fact.

sugawara was very fond of plum trees, and just before his exile, wrote a poem as farewell to his favorite, in his garden in kyoto:

When the east wind blows, flourish in full bloom, you plum blossoms! Even though you lose your master don't be oblivious to spring.

in addition, the sugawara clan's crest is the backside of a plum blossom.

in japanese, ura means behind, or back/other side. ume is plum.

there's a good breakdown of the name here which suggests that ura may symbolize a reversal of the values represented by plums in japanese culture (nobility, loyalty) or a betrayal of the sugawaras--possibly referring to uraume's choice to take sukuna's side.

another possibility that i'd like to raise is that uraume is either sugawara no-michizane himself, or a descendant of him. in this case the backside of the plum could represent exile--ie, sugawara's beloved plum tree seen from "behind," as he left his home. interesting in this case that uraume has a pinkish, almost plum colored patch on the back of their head. again--a beloved family symbol as something that is behind them.

their family's betrayal by the fujiwaras could have been the motive for their loyalty to sukuna, and perhaps a hatred of sorcerers' society in general (an interesting parallel to gojo satoru, no?)

thus: rejecting sugawara (a recognized sorcerer name) in favor of uraume (both a way of honoring their own family--the plum--and rejecting the culture it belonged to--the reversal). the "betrayal of nobility" interpretation of their name takes on a double meaning if this is the case.

anyway this may all be a bit of a stretch but i do think it would mesh really well with the themes gege sensei's established re: traditionalism, bloodlines, etc. really curious to see what they do with uraume and sukuna going forward.

[strawberrywindow]

She-Hulk ep. 2 spoilers below the cut, Emil specific thoughts

EMIL IS BAAAAAACK 😍😭

And honestly - I don't know if I'm being naive or gullible or maybe just a combo of that and hopeful - but I don't know if he's faking his reform anymore. Like...I'm still INCREDIBLY suspicious but...he SEEMS much more sincere and much less like the completely snarky asshole with the veneer of 'enlightenment' I was expecting him to be.

His perspective on things is...biased to say the least lol. And he's definitely not as past ALL of his animosity towards Bruce despite what he'd have him and Jen believe based on how he isn't even able to begin hiding his distaste for the Hulk when he speaks about him. And Emil, darling, while true that you were pumped full of some half baked, experimental, super soldier serum that caused you to experience some unprecendented mental side effects - it is a BOLD. FACED. LIE. That your fight with Bruce was not personal. VERY convenient to leave out you holding Sterns at gunpoint to force him to irradiate you with Bruce's blood. Very convenient. Not to mention even after only ONE injection of the SSS this man was ignoring orders so that he could challenge the Hulk face to face. He wound up getting kicked into a tree and shattering all his bones for his efforts but - even BEFORE the obvious side effects of the serum he was already acting much more haughty and brash than he had before his injections - and I think only part of that was due to side effects. A lot of it was just Emil relishing his new speed and strength and agility and WOW he doesn't feel 39 anymore, he doesn't even feel like a younger him - he feels like a DEMIGOD or something! Above human! ENHANCED. 🤩

Emil has ALWAYS had delusions of how powerful he is and I suspect always an inclination to rewrite events in his favor. His comics self definitely does. Mans is NEVER, or very rarely at least, able to accept when he has done something wrong/when his actions are the reason for his suffering.

We'll see lol.

However, asides from my suspicions, I am LOVING the direction they have taken Emil. Even if this is a farce, I'd be hesitant to say the entire act is. Emil has an English degree in the comics (I believe?) so it's nice to see that called forward here with him using poetry/haikus to show his remorse and help express himself. I don't think it's too far out of left field that our favorite Ex-Captain in the Royal Marines, canonically called an 'odd duck' in the novelization, and if you've seen the 2008 film you KNOW he's a bit of a weirdo, has turned to spiritualism and talk of soulmates and going from a rather blank, quiet man who only sparked up when adrenaline was involved to a quirky, twitchy, frankly STRANGE man who spends his days in prison writing poems to EACH of his victims, (AND to Bruce 🥺). Just such a breath of fresh air with Emil and I am incredibly excited to see where they further take his character, even if the 'reformed' part of things winds up not being true, I think it would be fun if he retained some of the traits above still. Humanizes him a bit from the man who lived only to fight from 14 years ago.

Also - that property his seven soulmates bought they're all going to live on? DEFINITELY bought with his share of the prize money from his and Wong's fight in Shang-Chi. Calling it now. 😌

I may make another post about my other thoughts on this episode later but I knew this one would be long enough with just my thoughts on Emil lol.

[babbieblabs]

Sooo, because chapter 20 of Avarice is gonna be pretty late, I’m just gonna put a small snippet here!

There is most likely misspellings, and corrections I need to make; this is still a draft LOL

Just to help a little, [spoiler] is Zack <3 (You’ll see why I put it when the chapter is out)

Words: 433

TW’s: Blood and talks of death

—

“Zack!”

[Spoiler] whipped his head up, facing the voice. Upon seeing the map of the voice’s face, he froze—his slippery hands twisted around the railing, attempting to keep his rooted grip on it. The sanguineous painted the railing, trickling down, reaching for the brown, curly headed boy, whose face punched [Spoiler]’s spazzing heart, and injected him with something sentimental.

He found that he could paint the boy.

He could write poems written with a golden pen onto the smoothest page to ever be created. He could strum strings of a guitar, and the noise that would emit from it would create the outline of the boy’s face with its sound waves.

They stared at each other for a while, and for a moment, [Spoiler] didn't want to have to die—selfish, wasn't it? He knew—and he was well aware of the fact—that if he remained alive, everyone around him would be maimed. All would be choked by his hands that were like puppets on a string, punched with his fists that were curled by another, and his mouth pettifogging, his tongue clicking with the force of an imposing soul.

But he kept studying the boy before him.

His hair was wild like the twists and turns of waves. They curled in on themselves, like a person tendrillaring into a fetal position. It was like Van Gogh's “Starry Night” painting—the strokes of wind that the painter had illustrated reminded [Spoiler] of the boy’s hair. Maybe, Van Gogh himself painted the boy—created him. He wouldn’t be surprised if Van Gogh had helped the boy’s creator perfect him.

The boy’s lips were cherry. [Spoiler] wondered if they tasted like cherries too. They were torn at some spots, raw and glossy with a coated layer of something manifesting new skin—but it only seemed to make the boy more golden. More sparkly. More beautiful. More expensive.

His eyes were brown, almost like dirt that was damp and soft. Within the dirt, there were miles of seeds, ready to grow trees that stood tall and firm for centuries to come. His eyes provided life, and his eyes were calm like psithurism. The wind coursed through the trunks of the trees that the boy’s eyes grew, steadily making way for [Spoiler], reaching out to run their hands through his hair and caress his cheek.

Oh, how [Spoiler] wanted to be loved.

How he wanted to be craved and wanted.

[Spoiler]…

As he stared at the loamy eyes, his memory seemed to sprout something like a seed does a conifer.

He remembered the name that sprouted from the boy’s lips.

Zack.

[kimkymury]

🌍

Hey @relentlesslyexisting , I think you are referring to this game:

https://kimkymury.tumblr.com/post/679908572653617152/reader-asks

So here's my answer!

My dream AU is the "Happy Ending AU" , an alternative universe where everyone gets an happy ending (except Auguste).

In this AU, Serge and Gilbert lives in Serge's old house, and they both work on the Conservatory. Pascal became a science teacher and created his blue rose, while Carl works as a Superintendet.

Rosemarine became Lacombrade's principal, and Jules works with him (their relationship got better after they both come in terms about how they feel about each other).

Kurt and Neka became athletes, Sebastian is now a teenager and still studying at Lacombrade. Even Serge's cousin, Angeline, got an happy ending.

Her mother wanted her to marry Auguste, but she fell in love with one of Serge'd friends, Kurt.

Anyway, this is an AU that I made in my head after I read the manga, just because I needed everyone to be happy in the ending.

Thanks your ask :D

[nanaminokanojo]

[4:00 AM] Kita Shinsuke X You

LOG #1 OF MY HAIKYUU!! TIMESTAMP DRABBLES

CHARACTERS: Kita Shinsuke X You

WORD COUNT: 1,300+

GENRE: fluff | romance | young love in the countryside TT_TT

TRIGGER WARNING: none

SPOILERS: n/a

collection masterlist

The year's autumn blessed days with warm, balmy weather but evening and dawns came with biting coldness. You felt right at home, a peaceful feeling settling in your chest as you walked through the desolate streets of your neighborhood despite the howling wind that tousled your hair and made your fingers clutch tighter on the maroon jacket you threw over your pajamas. You inhaled deeply, facing the direction of the wind and letting yourself be engulfed in fragrant flashbacks that came off the garment that kept you warm.

Clean sheets, a hint of something akin to rubbing alcohol and summer air. They all constituted that particular scent that was truly unique to its owner, scents which you would more likely ignore if they didn't belong to Kita Shinsuke, the very person who owned the jacket you were wearing.

Your walk continued through the tree lane where you remembered him teaching you how to ride a bike when you were little, finally reaching the open planes where ripe stalks of rice, shone golden under the full moon, ready for harvest. And there, under the ancient oak that grew over the inclined grassy lawn before the fields, you saw him sitting, his eyes trained to the moon, the gray streaks of his hair shining silver under the dawn sky.

It was typical of him to be up and about at such ungodly hours in the morning. Such is the routine of his family since they owned the rice farms stretching for acres and acres before you. It was especially busy during that time of the year, but it was when the fields were at their most beautiful.

You plopped on the grass a foot away from him, following the direction of his gaze. "This better be good, Shin," you stated as a form of greeting, feigning annoyance that he managed to drag you out of bed on a day when you could be sleeping in.

You didn't mind, really. He never asks you for favors most of the time, and when he told you to come meet him, you couldn't say no. Part of you was curious as to what he had in mind when he suddenly pulled out the worn-out notebook where your collection of poems were written.

You snatched it away from him, clutching it against your chest, eyes wide in a mixture of relief, anger and embarrassment. You thought you had lost it, but the feeling of it being found by the last person you didn't want to know of its existence scared you more.

"Where did you find this?" you demanded.

"You left it in my room last week." He shifted slightly, his wide, brown eyes shining in the dark as he eyed you with that same look that always made you feel like drowning. "Your pieces are impressive. I didn't know you could write so beautifully."

Your jaw went slack, afraid he had read the contents. "You..."

"I did," he answered your unspoken question. He moved closer to you, his gaze unwavering as he leaned forward, invading your space. The scent that came off his jacket were but remnants, and you forgot to breathe as the real thing hit you. "Now tell me those aren't about me."

"No –"

"Rice fields, magpie robins," he chuckled, "Uramaki*..."

You felt your eyes growing hot at the mention of the nickname you gave him when you were kids. You've been careless. While there's a sort of unspoken understanding between the two of you, you knew you had to keep your feelings in check so it wouldn't get in the way of his endeavors. He was busy with the nationals coming in winter, and as captain of the volleyball team, he had a lot on his plate. The notebook served as an extension of your affections for him, a place where you kept things hidden until such time you can show him, but fate always has bad timing. Always.

"You weren't supposed to know about this," you finally spoke, looking him in the eye.

He pulled away slightly, hurt crossing his features. He's hardly ever taken aback by anything, always composed and calm, but he looked genuinely surprised that you would say something like that." Why not?"

"I didn't want you to know."

"But I already do!"

"The extent, I mean." You sighed. "I didn't want to get in the way, and honestly, I'm scared to know the answer."

"Get in the way of what? Volleyball?" You didn't have to say anything for him to know he was right. "When did I ever tell you you're in the way of anything? And how do you not already know the answer?"

You felt your insides do a flip. He has such a strange way about him being this brutally frank, no-nonsense person who thinks everything is obvious for everyone else to see. Everything is common sense for him and it looked like he expected everyone to know the things he does, unaware that he's an old soul and always has been.

"How should I know the answer?" you retorted, burying your face in your hands.

"We've been like this since we were kids. What are you talking about?"

"Shinsuke, in case you're forgetting, I went out with –"

"I don't wanna hear his name, sweetcakes. And so what? We broke up for a moment. Big deal." When you just appeared like fish out of water, he stood up, taking your hand in his with gentle utterances of, "Up, up," that you couldn't help but obey. "Let's settle this once and for all."

Kita looked at you with such an intensity that made you want to cave in on yourself but at the same time, compelled you to retain the connection he established with just those commanding gazes. He always had the ability to throw you off, make your constitution turn to jelly.

You bit your lower lip, bouncing your toe on the grass as you looked down, waiting for him to say something.

"I'll count to three, Y/N, and we both say how we feel. How about that?"

"Okay."

"One..."

You breathed in, your mind racing as you struggled to form the words you've always wanted him to hear.

"Two..."

Your eyes finally met his to find that he hasn't taken them away from you, unrelenting as always and always filled with earnestness that you could never begin to fathom.

"Three."

"I..."

"I love you," he said, the three words coming out with such distinct conviction that you found yourself unable to say anything else after your voice trailed off. He arched a brow at you then.

You just blinked at him like an oaf, his words the only thing you can think about. "Y-you do?"

"Uh-uh, you broke the rules. Again."

God, he wouldn’t even give you time to recover. "Sorry, I..."

"One," he began again. "Two."

You braced yourself for the final count.

"Three."

"I love you, too." You're the only one who spoke this time, your voice ringing clear above the sound of the roaring wind, and as if on cue, the sounds around you died down, your words echoing in your head.

Kita finally let up on the serious look on his face and smiled at you, his eyes turning into inverted crescents. "I know. I always have."

You were sniffling, not even realizing you were already crying, the sight of him before you becoming blurred as tears welled up in your eyes. You've waited to hear those words from him and for you to be able to say them back since that autumn day years ago when the rice fields swayed in the wind, golden and ready for the reaping, that lone magpie robin circling overhead, chirping its merry song. It was the first time Kita held your hand in his, and from then, you knew.

He chuckled, wiping at your tears with his thumb as he cupped your face. "I expected a better reaction."

"Shut up," you told him, standing on your toes and pulling him close until your lips were touching his, sealing your declaration of feelings for each other before the fields that shone golden under the moonlight, a promise of good harvest and the kiss you shared, a promise of forever.

-end-

TERMINOLOGIES:

*uramaki (裏巻き/うらまき) - makizushi with the rice outside instead of inside the seaweed wrapper, usually sprinkled with black sesame seeds

Haikyuu brainrot is real. Never underestimate it.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY FURUDATE HARUICHI’S “HAIKYUU!”. [20210727]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[kazetokinouta-a]

[hardboiledteacozy]

We Grow Accustomed to the Dark - BrRy drabble

I've been reading a gothic Victorian novel and I'm inspired to write a BaroRyuu thing. Have my brief notes until I have the time/energy to write a proper Thing (which will probably be about three chapters long? Maybe?? Who knows???). Ryuu is back in England for Reasons, IDK. The title comes from an Emily Dickinson poem.

Beware post-DGS2 spoilers.

<> <> <>

A Guilty verdict on a high-profile criminal leads to both Ryuu and Barok being targeted, as Ryuu ended up helping Barok during the trial when it became clear that his client was anything but innocent. After having gone through two separate attacks, Barok suggests they take refuge in his old family estate in the country while Scotland Yard deals with the mess for once. Ryuunosuke agrees, even if he feels rather out of place at first. He's concerned at first that he's come underdressed, or that he is being an inconvenience to Barok, until he realises that this is the first time he's gotten to see the fearsome Reaper of the Bailey at ease, outside the courtroom (or jail) and that Barok is actually a very chill dude. So they get talking and find out more about one another and Ryuu actually starts to feel more at ease, even if the manor where they're staying at is CREEPY AS FUCK and humid and old and with nothing around except the steel-grey sea and a dark, foggy, mossy moor, and they're basically alone because they had to leave in haste and Barok couldn't even send the servants out beforehand and now they've been delayed because of the weather. But. This means Barok ends up cooking for Ryuu, with the provisions they brought over with them, and Ryuu and Barok end up drinking wine in front of a fireplace, their chatter low and cozy even as the wind howls outside. At some point during the night, Ryuu hears something outside his room, somewhere in the house, and he goes to investigate because he's a coward and an idiot, but he's also curious to a fault, and he bumps into Barok, who's also trying to find out what the source of the noise was. Ryuu is shaken by his encounter with Barok (literally can't stop shaking) and his candle goes out and he drops his matches because of course he does. Barok, who knows his way in the dark because he is intimately familiar with the place, tells Ryuu to take his hand so he doesn't get lost, and they slowly make their way through the dark together, only to find out a tree has fallen outside. Tension bleeds out and Barok makes Ryuu a hot posset, something he used to drink when he was a child and got sick. Ryuu likens it to okayu, and they sort of maybe stay cuddled on a sofa for the rest of the night because neither of them is particularly tired after that fright.

The next morning, the servants come back and make a big breakfast for the two, and Ryuu gets to see the place being cleaned up (probably tries to help but ends up getting in the way). It's as if life has been breathed into the old estate again. Barok confesses that he hasn't been back since Klimt died, but that he is glad to be here with Ryuu. Ryuu urges him to come back more often, to put old phantoms to rest, and Barok agrees so long as Ryuunosuke comes with him, to keep said phantoms at bay. Ryuu laughs and nods, amused that Barok would trust him as his protector when he was the one who had led him through the dark. Barok nods and counters by saying that he only led him through the dark because Ryuu braved the dark with a small light in the first place. Metaphors! Pining!

Edit: There is now a fic in the works, if anyone is curious

[xiaomoxu]

Lucien - Mystical Date

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

A date from CN server which hasn’t been released on EN server yet. Might contains some spoiler.

🌙  Also from this date: Moment - 1st Call - 2nd Call

This date is from The Heat and Sounds of the Grand Banquet Collection.

Story under the cut--

Legend has it that in a remote and dense jungle, there was a mysterious young man.

Wherever he goes,

Stone can flow out gold,

The flame can ignite out of thin air,

The spring water can drip colorful colors.

The story starts from that hot season...

--

It hasn't had a single drop of rain for two full months, and the air is full of unbearable heat.

Now is the time for the cavalry to change guards, and logically speaking, it is also the time when the tribal defense is the weakest.

I hid behind the wall and glanced from a distance. As expected, there was only one person on duty at the tribe’s outpost.

I crawled into the stable, jumped and patted the horse, then ran off on top of it.

The dry and hot wind whizzed past my ears, and there was only one firm belief in my heart--

I must escape successfully!

Just as I was approaching the guard post, the cavalry on duty probably heard the sound of horse hooves and reacted vigilantly.

Guard: Who are you?!

MC: ...This is bad.

Before I could think about it, I picked up the rein and pulled the horse hard to speed up the escape.

As long as I cross the river outside the post and into the woods, I will be able to completely leave the border of the tribe.

Guard: Someone is running away, come on!

I galloped through the river, and got into the woods as soon as I jumped.

I don't know how long I ran, but my ears were left with the rustle of wind blowing over the leaves and the faint sound of water.

It's safe for now.

I breathed a sigh of relief, but did not slow down the speed, and my heart still restless.

A few hours ago, I overheard the conversation between the wizard and the chief, and was shocked to learn that the wizard wanted to sacrifice me in three days!

-Flashback-

Wizard: Chief, if you want to save the entire tribe, you must sacrifice her!

Chief: This...no, I can't agree with this matter!

Wizard: You have figured it out clearly, this is a problem for the entire tribe.

Wizard: She was originally an ominous orphan, and as she grew up, her thought became more and more curious.

Wizard: She was just looking through some useless books. When I was ordered by the gods to carry out my will, she dared to question it.

Wizard: Now, the god has been angered by her behavior, and the two-month drought is the punishment.

Wizard: Sacrificing her to pray for rain, that was the only way to calm the anger of the gods!

Chief: In any case, she is a member of the tribe, my people...I don't agree to sacrifice her!

Originally, I was only quietly borrowing the street lamp outside the chief's palace to read the collection of theological poems, but I was shocked to hear it.

It is obvious that staying in the tribe is no longer safe. In a hurry, I only thought of a way to protect myself-escape!

-Flashback end-

In order to escape as far as possible, I drove all night in the woods.

The sky was already bright, and I looked at the forks in front of me and couldn't make up my mind. I planned to dismount and check it out first.

I turned into a path and didn't know how long I walked. The dense woods in front of me seemed almost the same as before, and I still couldn't tell the direction.

Thinking that I was lost, I was so nervous that I walked a few steps faster, but I missed my steps and I rolled down a steep slope.

MC: !

The feeling of turning around the world gradually faded. I struggled to get up, and was surprised to find that there was a valley in front of me, and there seemed to be a large lush garden not far away.

Ignoring the pain on my body, I walked in carefully, hoping that there would be a place for me to rest for a while.

But the more I walked in, I found that so many colorful flowers and trees, there are still many buildings and a clear breath of life in the garden.

I was wondering if there were people living here, a calm and cozy figure suddenly broke into my sight behind the flowers.

It was a strange young man.

He was wearing a luxurious light-colored satin gown, and his exposed arm rings had complicated and beautiful patterns.

At this moment, he picked up a chess piece and rubbed it lightly.

Hearing my footsteps, the man raised his head. At first glance, I hesitated for a moment.

??: Who are you and how did you come here?

MC: I was lost in the woods and passing by accidentally.

??: Oh?

The man curled his mouth slightly, and an imperceptible meaning passed through the end of his narrow eyes.

??: Not many people can find this place.

The man didn't seem to believe it, so I explained.

MC: After I rolled down the steep slope over there, I walked straight ahead... and I got here.

The man looked at me up and down, and whispered as if talking to himself.

??: It turned out to be like this...

Although there was a slight smile on the corner of the man's mouth, his tone was always indifferent.

I thought for a while, but I swallowed the idea that I wanted to rest here for a while, and saluted him.

MC: Sorry to disturb you, I will leave now.

??: You're hurt

The man spoke slowly and pointed at my arm.

??: If necessary, I can provide simple medical care.

I lowered my head, and saw many scars on my arm by branches and gravel, and the dull pain came up with it.

The man quickly fetched the medicine kit. After all, in a completely unfamiliar environment, I was a little uncomfortable, holding the potion and use it to heal my wounds.

After treating the wound, I saw the chessboard on the ground on my side, and my eyes lit up suddenly.

The familiar glass pawns and small twelve grids are exactly what I am best at playing chess.

The man is holding the glass chess piece in one hand, seeming to observe the chess surface.

MC: Are you playing chess?

??: Not long after I started learning, I was still studying according to the chess book.

I nodded thoughtfully and couldn't help but speak proudly.

MC: I like playing chess very much, and I used to learn from the wisest old man in the tribe for a long time.

MC: In our tribe, almost no one can beat me.

Hearing what I said, the man paused with his finger holding the chess piece.

He leaned over and raised his eyebrows slightly unexpectedly.

After pondering for a moment, he put the chessboard in front of me with a casual smile on his face.

??: So now this game...

??: In your opinion, what is the correct next step?

Following the man's gestures, I subconsciously observed it carefully and began to analyze the situation in front of me.

MC: Is the next step to take the pawn at my hand?

??: Hmm.

I quickly counted the pawns in the current chess hole, and my eyes brightened quickly.

I took out the first chess piece on the left hand side and "planted" one by one into the row of holes on the right.

MC: One, two, three, four, five, just right!

The man looked at the chess hole I was pointing, and turned slightly.

MC: Although this chess hole is very suitable for abandonment, the number of chess pieces at the moment is very good.

MC: The place where the last chess piece falls will happen to be the big hole on the right, then according to the rulesㅡ

??: According to the rules, the pawns in the hole of the other side should also belong to this side.

The man took my word almost at the same time.

MC: That's right!

??: This game really became more interesting.

The corners of the man's lips curled up slightly, an arc flashing in his eyes.

Lucien: If you are not in a hurry, are you willing to play a game with me?

I subconsciously wanted to agree, but when I thought about my current situation, I hesitated again.

MC: I....

I opened my mouth and didn't know how to explain it for a while. The man saw my hesitation, did not persuade me too much, just smiled faintly.

Lucien: I think it should be far better than reading a chess book by myself.

His tone was sincere, and my wagging mood tilted towards a certain choice.

I accidentally fell to the sides of the empty garden. An idea suddenly popped up in my head. I took a deep breath and saidㅡ

MC: I promised to play against you, but...

MC: I want to add some "weight" to this competition.

The man leaned forward slightly.

??: Tell me the detail?

MC: If you win, you can make a request to me, as long as I can do it. But if I win..

After a second pause, I said in a hurry.

MC: Can you let me stay for a few days?

Thinking that the wizard might still be arresting me, it is better to find a "backer" to hide first, instead of running around alone.

This hidden garden and this mysterious man may be a viable choice.

The sudden request really made him wide open his eyes in surprise.

I pursed my lips and said after a few seconds.

MC: Our tribe is suffering from a drought, and I really have nowhere to go, so I ran out to save my life.

Although the most real reason is hidden, what I said is not entirely a lie.

MC: So, do you agree to add this "weight"?

I watched him nervously.

The man looked at me deeply, and after a moment of indulgence, he chuckled softly.

??: It is indeed a heavy weight.

??: Okay, I promise.

??: However, let me test your chess skills first.

The man put the chess pieces back, I took a deep breath and smiled politely.

MC: Since it is a competition, how can one not know the name of the opponent.

MC: My name is MC, how about you?

The midday sun fell on him, and the man smiled slightly and looked at me sideways.

??: Lucien.

--

In a blink of an eye, I have been staying at Lucien's house for several days.

I borrowed a few chess books from Lucien. I haven't been anywhere these days. I stayed in the guest room and looked through.

In the match a few days ago, I only narrowly won by the difference two points.

Lucien learned so well not long after his self-study. His chess books must be very useful.

MC: Lucien, I have read these books, is there anything else?

Lucien: Yes, in the library.

MC: Library? Can I come with you to have a look?

Just when I thought I was going to be rejected, Lucien nodded lightly, a vague stream of light flashed across his eyes.

Unexpectedly, there are several library rooms in this garden palace, but the books in itㅡ

MC: "Elemental Crystal", "The Secret of Metal", "How to Make a Panacea".

MC: What are these all about, why have I never heard of it?

I looked at Lucien, who was standing quietly by the side, with some suspicions in my heart.

MC: Lucien, What the hell do you do?

MC: Wizard? Magician? Or...

Lucien looked at me without evasiveness, and spoke slowly after a while.

Lucien: To be precise, I am a hermit who knows a little about alchemy.

I was about to ask more clearly, but he suddenly raised his arm, his expression still faint.

Lucien: If you are interested, you can read these books at your will.

Lucien left after leaving saying that. I thought he was in trouble, I didn't care too much, and curiously took out two books.

After flipping through a few pages quickly, I found that the content in it was in a category that I had never heard of.

MC: After adding these powders, the flame can change various colors?

MC: It can be done with salt...?!

Holding these books that I have never heard before, the door to a new world seems to be slowly opening before my eyes.

I was fascinated by it, and I didn't feel the passage of time at all, until there was a slight sound of footsteps by the door.

Lucien: You... still here?

I looked up in a daze, only to realize that it was pitch black outside the window.

Thinking he was asking me why I stayed in the library, I smiled at him awkwardly.

MC: It seems that I have been staying for a long time...

Lucien approached calmly, his eyes swept over the pile of books beside me.

Lucien: It seems that you have already read a lot.

Lucien: Are there any gains?

MC: There are many gains, but there are more doubts.

I raised the horoscope book in my hand.

MC: I once saw a book that said that the destiny of human beings and the prosperity and decline of the country's luck are all determined by astrology.

MC: The wizard of our tribe always said that he can predict misfortune and happiness through the position of the stars.

MC: But I always feel that if fate is destined, does that individual's efforts have any meaning?

MC: Everyone’s destiny should only belong to them.

MC: As for the other messy claims, they may be just excuses made by people.

After saying all these things, I realized that Lucien had walked to me at some point.

He glanced at me deeply, and a strange emotion flowed through his deep eyes.

Lucien: I think most people cannot accept this statement.

Just when I thought Lucien was going to refute me, his voice was warmer and softer than before.

Lucien: However, I agree.

MC: ....Realy?

All the time, wizards have always said that my ideas are "outlandish and outrageous."

Unexpectedly, I would meet someone who has such a similar thought to me, so I blurted out subconsciously.

MC: If it weren't for my thinking is not the same as most people, it wouldn't beー

Finding my carelessness, I hurriedly bit my tongue. But Lucien had obviously heard it, and he asked with interest.

Lucien: different ideas mean?

I hesitated for a moment.

MC: Actually, is nothing.

MC: I just feel that some things may have nothing to do with the gods at all, but they should be.

The soft light shone on Lucien's side face, watching him listen intently. I don't know why, I suddenly have a desire to talk.

MC: It's just... If it doesn't rain for a month, maybe it's just the natural phenomenon described in that book, not the anger of the gods.

Lucien: Anger of Gods?

MC: ...I once heard that a tribe did not rain for several months. The wizard said that it was because a young girl angered the gods.

MC: He even proposed the vicious idea of sacrificing the young girls to pray for rain...maybe it's selfishness at all!

I finished speaking in a low voice.

Lucien was stunned for two seconds, looking thoughtful.

But soon, he smiled slightly, with a little light and shadow in his eyes.

Lucien: In this world, there may really be gods.

Lucien: But in my opinion, it is better to put hope in your own hands than to believe in the ethereal gods.

Lucien: It's just that I'm surprised that you can think so too.

Lucien looked at me, his lips curled in a nice arc.

Lucien: Before I brought you to the library, I was worried that you would think these books offended the gods.

Lucien: Now it seems that my worries are nothings.

Through Lucien's dark pupils, I can clearly see my figure. There seemed to be ripples in his eyes, and a warm smile appeared.

My cheeks were slightly hot, and I subconsciously looked away from his eyes.

My eyes fell on the closed "Elemental Crystal", and I suddenly remembered something.

MC: Lucien, just said in the book that there are many beautiful crystals.

I tilted my head and asked curiously.

MC: What is crystal, and what does it look like?

Lucien thought for a moment, then stretched out his hand to me.

If you want to know, you might as well take a look at the real "little trick".

Lucien took me to the deepest part of the garden palace. This wide room was filled with various utensils that I didn't understand well, and I looked around curiously.

Lucien held out an iron box in the corner, and saw a row of small cardboard trees staggered in it.

Lucien: Coincidentally, I just finished some preparations.

Lucien: Now, the most critical step will need your help.

MC: What is this?

Lucien: To reveal the answer too quickly, you will lose a lot of fun, you might as well look forward to it.

Lucien deliberately said it, revealing a mysterious expression.

He adjusted it in the glass for a while, and soon a cup of slightly turbid water appeared in front of me.

Lucien: Are you interested in trying it yourself?

Although I still don't quite understand what this is, it doesn't affect my eagerness to try.

MC: Ok, what should I do?

MC: Pour this cup of "water" on the paper tree.

Lucien: When you wake up tomorrow, you will have a pleasant surprise.

--

The next day, as soon as the sun was up, I got up and couldn’t wait to push the door open.

On the bare paper tree last night, every branch is now full of crystal-clear "flowers", which are becoming more white and clear under the shining of the sun.

I sing happily to the garden holding the iron box, Lucien was reading at the stone table in the open air.

Put the blooming paper tree among the flowers, I tugged his sleeve gently.

MC: Lucien, let the paper tree blossom, is this the surprise you said?

MC: But how exactly is this done?

He smiled slightly.

Lucien: The answer lies in the glass of "water" you poured down yesterday.

Lucien: Because the matter in the "water" reacted with the substances on the paper tree, these flower-like crystals were precipitated.

Lucien: It's just such a simple "trick".

He explained concisely. I don't know if it's because this is what he likes. Lucien's expression in front of me is a bit vivid.

The bright sunshine fell on his hair, which looked exceptionally soft, and a circle of dark shadows fell in his eyes.

Looking at Lucien, whose smile in the sun was even better than the flowers in the garden, my breath suddenly suffocated inexplicably.

There seemed to be a feather that suddenly flicked from the tip of my heart.

Lucien noticed my pause.

Lucien: What's wrong?

I hurriedly looked away, but the sensation in my heart did not calm down for a long time.

MC: ....Nothing, I just think you know a lot.

MC: You can learn to play chess by reading a book by yourself, knowing a lot of knowledge that other people don't know, and this kind of magic trick.

Hearing my analogy, the arc of his smile became even wider.

Lucien: In your eyes, I must be really great.

In the fragrant garden, Lucien smiled gently, and his narrow eyes were filled with diamonds from the sunlight.

MC: Lucien, I really like the "gate to the new world" you opened for me. It feels novel and mysterious.

MC: Why don't you teach me too?

MC: Like you said, the masters are more intentional when they moving forward.

MC: Maybe I can catch up with you soon, and then we can learn and explore more things together.

--

Unconsciously, more than half a month passed so happily and comfortably.

In these days, I have hardly seen other people, and the cavalry of the tribe has never appeared. I gradually feel relieved.

Early this morning, I came to the river to fetch water briskly.

Suddenly, a chaotic sound of horseshoes came from behind unexpectedly!

I was caught off guard and quickly kicked to the ground by a horse's hoof: it was the cavalry sent by the wizard.

I was trying to run out of the enclosure when I was struggling, and suddenly there was a sharp pain in the back of my head.

It went dark, and I fainted.

What I didn't know was that when the cavalry took me away, behind the dense woods, a long robe was blown away by the wind.

When I woke up, I found that I had been taken to a crowded street.

I looked around but did not see the guards, only the dark and gloomy voice of the wizard.

Wizard: It is because of her, this young girl who angered the gods, that caused the drought in the last two months!

Wizard: I will hold a rain prayer ceremony soon and sacrifice her to the gods.

There was a noise in the crowd, and I stared at the wizard unwillingly and resentfully.

Just when I was about to refute him loudly, an old but powerful "stop" sounded first: It was the chief who came.

My eyes slid past the chief, and widened in disbelief - it was Lucien who came with the chief!

MC: ....!

How could it be Lucien?

After the huge shock passed, the faint expectation could not be restrained rising from my chest, and I stared at Lucien intently.

Aware of my surprise and expectation, Lucien slowly blinked his eyes twice.

Chief: You are so courageous that you plan to perform a sacrifice in private!

The wizard was about to argue, the chief had already spoken to the people involuntarily.

Chief: The hermit next to me has a lot of fate with our tribe.

Chief: I was fortunate enough to get acquainted with him many years ago. He gave us the "God Water" that made the crops grow more prosperous.

Chief: In addition, he has the ability to turn stones into gold, and he is an expert who rarely shows up.

Chief: Now, he rushed over overnight after hearing the drought, and he will definitely find a solution.

Looking at the unhurried figure in front of me, my heart was pounding violently.

Lucien: To pray for rain, there is no need for a girl's sacrifice.

Lucien: I have other ways.

Lucien's words caused an uproar in the surroundings.

The wizard asked sharply.

Wizard: What if your method doesn't work? Wouldn't it be useless?

Lucien took a step forward, staring straight at the wizard with a cold look in his eyes.

Lucien: Did Mr. Wizard has the guts to gamble with me?

Lucien: See whether my method is feasible or your hypothesis is valid.

Lucien: Before that, I ask you to wait for a while.

Lucien's voice was not loud, but with firmness that could not be rejected and rebutted.

The wizard was obviously stunned, his eyes widened in a daze and no longer spoke.

Chief: When do you plan to start the ceremony?

Lucien: I need one night to prepare. In addition, I need a helper.

In the next second, Lucien raised his arm and pointed at me lightly.

Lucien: She is the most suitable.

On the dry and sultry night, Lucien sat on the ground under an empty starry sky.

He was holding a few precision instruments in his hand, as well as something that looked like a slender stick.

With the help of these instruments, he carefully observed the astrology and recorded what he was calculating.

I also sat down on the ground next to him, quietly not disturbing him.

It didn't take long for Lucien to stack up the calculation paper in his hand with confidence, smiled and opened his mouth first.

Lucien: Suddenly so quiet, what are you thinking about?

MC: Thinking about what you just wrote.

I pointed to the calculation paper in his hand.

MC: It feels like you have been observing the stars. Could it be that there is a connection between astrology and rain?

Lucien looked up at the dark sky and smiled approvingly.

Lucien: You guessed it right.

Lucien: Remember the astrology we talked about before?

Lucien: The astronomical phenomenon has its own laws. Perhaps it cannot determine the fate of people, but at least it can survey the sunny and cloudy weather.

Lucien: As long as you follow and make good use of these natural laws, it is not a different kind of "pray for rain."

MC: So, have you surveyed the rainy day?

Lucien: If the calculation is not wrong, it will rain tomorrow.

MC: Really?

MC: Do you need my help, such as letting you calculate more carefully?

Seeing me with a slight excitement, Lucien gave a low smile, his eyes seemed to be brighter than the moonlight under the vast starry sky.

Lucien: Stop thinking about it.

Lucien: The reason why I need you to be a helper is just a stopgap measure.

Lucien: The matter of surveying astrology, just leave it to me with confidence.

He stared at me steadily, and the trace of worry and anxiety that I had left was finally completely healed under such a gentle gaze.

Suddenly thinking of something, I stared awkwardly at my toes.

MC: Speaking of which, I actually owe you an apology.

MC: In fact, I would stray into your home, not to come out to ask for a living, but to avoid being arrested by the wizard.

MC: I didn't tell you the truth back then, sorry.

The air was silent for a few seconds, and a faint chuckle fell into my ears.

I raised my head to meet Lucien's deep eyes. From the corner of his mouth that was smiling, I realized something in hindsight.

MC: ...You know it long ago, don't you?

Lucien: It's not very early either.

Lucien exchanged his cross-legged posture, and faded away.

Lucien: In fact, at the beginning, I just guessed that things were not as simple as you said.

Lucien: But after seeing the cavalry yesterday, I realized that it turned out to be a little more complicated than I thought.

Lucien: So, I followed here.

MC: That’s... you came to help me specifically?

Lucien smiled and said nothing.

There was a sudden flow of heat in my chest. I quietly kept my eyes closed, not wanting him to see my hot cheeks.

The next evening. 

In order to reassure the chief and all the villagers, Lucien sat with his eyes closed in the middle of the crowd, still doing a "ritual" appearance.

As expected by Lucien, it didn't take long for the dark sky to suddenly roll up a lot of dark clouds.

Dense dark clouds enveloped the entire sky, and with the black gloom, the big raindrops suddenly fell.

The long-lost rain has moistened every corner of the dry land.

Crowd: It's raining! It's really raining!

Crowd: Thanks to the gods, this year's crops are finally saved!

A burst of excitement and ecstasy erupted from the crowd, and heartfelt joy also poured into my heart: Lucien completed the promise he made before, and I was finally safe.

The chief entertained Lucien with the highest standard dinner party of the tribe.

Not only that, the chief told me that the wizard had left the tribe in a desperate manner, and he promised that nothing similar would happen in the future.

After the dinner was over, the night was getting thicker, and the rain was still ticking.

Lucien walked beside me, his pace was not hurried, which made me feel more at ease.

I took a deep breath and looked at him with bright eyes.

MC: Lucien, I want to solemnly thank you.

MC: Thank you for taking me in at the time, and now you have saved my life from the wizard.

In the crowd, Lucien stared at me carefully, his narrow eyes filled with a gentle smile like a moon.

In the damp air, the faint sandalwood on his body lingered in my nose.

Suddenly, he leaned closer to me.

Lucien: If you really want to express gratitude, then come back with me.

MC: ...!

In this distance, his smile came into my eyes very clearly.

The feathers that once brushed my heart seemed to be blown back, making my heart pounding involuntarily.

An inexplicable emotion slowly filled my heart, and I couldn't help but raise my face to confirm to him.

MC: Why?

Lucien tilted his head, as if teasing me deliberately, with a hint of teasing in his soft tone.

Lucien: I thought we were already friends.

Lucien: Is there any problem in inviting a friend to be a guest at home?

MC: ....To show you gratitude, I went to your house as a guest? What a strange idea.

I couldn't help but muttered.

Notice Lucien's intent gaze and gentle smile, I suddenly thought of something and blinked slyly.

MC: Lucien, in fact, you can't let me go, right?

Lucien: Maybe it is.

Unexpectedly, he didn't evade at all, and nodded to me calmly.

Lucien: I used to think that living alone without being disturbed is the most comfortable way of life.

Lucien: Until I met you.

Lucien: It turns out that the world you explore with me is the most interesting.

Lucien: So now...

In the silent night, he leaned slightly, his eyes lingering on my face intently.

Lucien: Would you like to go back with me?

In the damp night breeze, I nodded gently.

---

Notes from me: I VERY VERY LOVE THIS DATE! THANK YOU PG FOR WRITING THIS BEAUTIFULLY >< IT’S A ‘HAPPY ENDING’ FOR US!!

[fanartfunart]

A fic where Ocarina of Time is a big time loop, instead of splitting the timeline. (post MM) Link meets Sheik in the Lost Woods. (some big OoT Spoilers)

A sequel to Time & Time Again (It isn’t 100% required to read it to understand this tho)

Ao3

--

The woods were unusually quiet. He heard no laughter or song of the Korkiri. It made it harder to travel through the Lost Woods than usual. But he knew his forest. Link traced his fingers along the rough bark of some of the trees. "This way" the forest whispered. It was difficult to understand, like catching the fog. But the forest knew him. The forest was kind to it's children.

He kept his eyes trained on the canopy, hoping for some fresh food to bring back to the village. As long as it wasn't magic, he imagined the forest wouldn't mind. It hadn't actively tried to stop him. It clearly understood his intentions.

He heard a soft rustle in a nearby bush. He pulled out his sword, inching closer. The stranger to the forest heard him in return. Sheik lept out of the bushes, blocking his sword arm and sending him flying backwards with a kick. Link barely managed to shift into a tumble and regain his footing.

He took in a breath, analyzing his opponent. (No, his old friend.) Blood rushed in his ears. A drum of battle he was all too familiar with. He felt like a tightly coiled spring, either about to snap or leap away. He smothered the realization he had started automatically looking for weak points. (It was Sheik, not an enemy. Not a demon or monster.)

The Sheikah meanwhile, had shifted into a ready stance, eyes widening as he actually looked at Link. They stared at each other. Tense. Sheik was looking at him as if just waiting for him to strike.

A familiar feeling crinkled against his chest and into his throat. Uncomfortable and raw. Sheik was scared of him. Sheik was created to fight and hide. Of course he expected Link, a stranger by all accounts, to attack. Link sheathed his sword with a sigh, forcing himself to loosen his posture. The grass swayed against his feet, soothing, reassuring.

It was quiet for a moment too long.

“Lost?” he asked.

Sheik tilted his chin up, as if affronted by the implication, “...No, of course not.”

"Ah, of course not.... I will have to see you in town later sometime then." Link said, beginning to walk away. Careful to be slow enough for Sheik to have plenty of time to make his choice.

"Wait!" Sheik, raced after him, eyes flickering around the trees, “What are you doing out here? These woods aren’t the safest place to be wandering.”

Link glanced backwards at him, shrugging, “Gathering things for the villagers in Kakarikio.” He hitched up his backpack higher on his shoulder. He could feel the blond’s eyes watching him, analyzing him.

“Who are you?”

“A traveler,” Link said.

“Oh, how specific,” he muttered sarcastically. Sheik was suddenly in front of him, walking backwards. Red eyes flickered across his face. “I thought you looked like that to get me to lower my guard but... you-” Sheik poked his nose. Link leaned back, ears flicking involuntarily.

“What was that for?” Link huffed, ignoring the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “My face is my actual face, yes.”

Sheik grabbed his hand, looking at the glow of the triforce. Link frowned at his hand. That hadn't happened in a long time. He barely registered they had halted. Just the ominous thump in his chest as he stared at the glowing force. Sheik looked up at him, “Link?”

He jolted his head up to look at Sheik. His red eyes were wide, expextant...hopeful. He nodded, “Nice to see you again, Sheik.”

“Are you- ....From the future?” Sheik whispered, eyes tracing the scars on his face with a light frown.

“Er...” Link hummed, “Yes and no? This is my second time around in this particular part of time. Grew up the normal way this time though.”

Sheik gasped, “So you did it? You won?”

Link just smiled and started foraging again. Sheik followed him.

“How? Are you here to help? You know what happens, right?”

“I don’t think learning too much about your future is particularly wise, oh carrier of the Triforce of Wisdom.”

“But if you help can’t we get this over with so much faster?” Sheik grabbed his arm, pulling him to yet another halt. He stared into his eyes, searching, “You can’t tell me you’re just here to gather things.”

“I tried to stop it from happening before, when I was a child. It didn’t do anything. If anything it made things worse...” Link sighed, “Your people need outside aid, your Highness. I can’t...won't help defeat Ganon this time, but I can gather supplies.”

Sheik let go of his arm, and to his surprise, tugged down the face mask. “You know who I am.”

“Yes, Sheik, don’t worry about it. I won’t tell.”

Sheik looked down at the ground. “Thank you,” he whispered.

He shrugged. "Besides. I think I prefer your hair like this. Very adventure-chic. Or should I say adventure-Sheik?”

The blond gasped, blushing. He punched his shoulder. (It bruised a little, admittedly.) “That’s horrible.”

“You’re one to talk. Don’t you have some poetry to recite for Mini Me?”

“Mini?” Sheik giggled, “You both look basically the same.”

“I gotta call him something.” Link shrugged, “The phrase ‘my younger self’ is a bit long.”

“Try harder.” He hummed, “Besides, my poems are brilliant.”

“Never said they weren’t.”

Sheik shook his head with some sense of amusement. That amusement faded as he glanced up at his face again. “...Are those...”

“From Ganon? No.” Link said, “I had a very interesting little adventure all on my own in Termina.” He glanced in the direction of the other country, wind fluttering through the leaves. “Most of the scars from Ganon disappeared when I was sent back in time.”

It was Zelda’s voice, not Sheik’s, that spoke next. “I... I’m sorry. That I roped you into- all of this. You deserved a... kinder childhood.”

Link stared at the ground. He took a moment to find his voice, “...So did you.”

Zelda stared at him, eyes round and wide. Her hands fidgeted, clasped in front of her. Lost for what to do or say, she tugged up the face mask. Sheik bowed gently, “I thank you for everything, Link of the Future."

“Grasshopper.”

“Huh?” Sheik blinked.

“If you needed a name to differentiate me and the kid. That’s the name he knows me by.”

Sheik snorted, “I’m not calling you that."

Link shrugged. His ears flicked as he picked up the light bell like ting of a fairy. The specific tone he'd know anywhere. "...Did you need to find the Forest Temple?"

Sheik glanced around, quiet for a moment, "I can always use magic to get there.... If I was lost. Which I'm not."

"But you want to do that cool entrance, right?"

Sheik shuffled his feet, "You think- thought it was cool?"

Link just chuckled, "Follow me," Link said, walking ahead.

"Seriously did you think it was cool? What did I do?"

"You already have it planned why would I tell you what you're going to do?"

"What if it's different and what I actually did was cooler than what I think I should do?"

"That makes no sense."

"Just tell me and I'll tell you if that's what I originally had in mind. Do you still remember my poem?"

"It was 7 years ago from my perspective. You expect me to remember exactly what you said and did?"

"....But you remember it was cool."

"Never said that."

"You implied it strongly."

Link laughed, and the Forest giggled with him. A chorus of rustling leaves. It remembered him as well as he remembered it, it seemed. He traced a finger along bark as he watched the forest unfold itself for him. "Sorry," he hoped to say through the gentle touch, "Sorry I took so long to come home."

[asphodeline-lutea]

【HTTYD books fanfic / Furious & Hiccup II】Monody

Got the inspiration for this when listening to the song Monody, and scribbled it. I couldn't think of a very good title, so it was directly named after the song to express thanks?? Very short, really short, only about 300 words, and kindergarten-skill writing (face palm) (Actually, this is the first fanfic I have written in my life XDD) I originally wrote this in Chinese, so I had to translate it into English, and there might be some grammar errors or something (?) Besides Monody, the last paragraph is inspired by the poem "Do not stand at my grave and weep" AU where Furious survives, may be minor spoilers for Book 12(?)

Here we stand, open arms This is home where we are Ever strong in the world that we made I still hear you in the breeze See your shadows in the trees Holding on, memories never change Monody-TheFatRat

-- They stood on the edge of the cliff, the cool wind with sea water vapor blew on their faces and bodies. The golden-haired boy stretched out his arms and opened his hands as if he were a dragon with wings. Beside him, the blue sea dragon also opened his wings, and his wing membranes stirred in the wind like flags. Hicup turned to Furious, his messy golden hair flying in the wind, his blue eyes reflecting the mountains, sea and sky around them. “This is home where we are.”

- The huge sea dragon slowly climbed up the cliff. His body had grown large, almost as high as the cliff under his talons. Facing the wind, and the blue sky and sea, he slowly spread his wings. The wind, the humid sea breeze, gently brushing his tattered wings and the scar on his chest. A hundred-year-old scar. Those memories, those memories of a hundred years ago, came rolling to him like a river. But now he closed his eyes, welcoming them back. The wind blew past his ears, and the trees near his claws no taller than than his arms. His ears moved as if he was catching the whispers of the wind.

Furious. I am still here. I am the breeze blowing over the islands. I am the shade of trees under the bright sunlight. I have never left.

[lyrierria]

Hey People out there... I have a poem for Angela He's Game... It might be spoiler in there, so if you didn't play A New Life and don't want to take spoilers, don't read it... Thank you! :3 And sorry for my Grammar mistakes if i had.

After World is a poem which is inspired by Angela He's Game, written by Lyrierria

There is a person you never reach,

You spend your days in the edge of the cliff,

When someone finally come to your side,

But you never realise the one who was always your right...

You hear a song from the other side,

You feel there something when you sigh,

Wind blowings and the whispering of the woods,

When you couldn't find the damn clues,

You turn around your room all the time,

Still whispers is there,

But you see nothing in the hip pocket of the tree,

And you will never know what is there...

Starting again and again,

In the middle of the circle of nothingness,

You will regret that you have done,

But it will be never changed again, the gone,

You will lose over and over again,

When you hear that song feels like dead-end,

You get the song that comes from at the very end,

But the future will not be changed any again.

After World

Someone comes to your side,

With shiny opened eyes,

You lose your heart in there,

But you will regret when you breathe...

You thought you will be the one ,

Who never be happier heretofore,

But you will regret when you dream the one,

That would never be embraced, and the gone...

You will try the piece together,

Not to lose what you have earlier,

Putting to the touch again and again,

But you will never find the lain,

You will lose time and again,

When you save her at the very end...

Even you would lose again,

You will the one who grows old together in the end,

She is the one who not regret making the real of her dreams never again...

She will love you someway...

"There is more than one thing to love you" anyway...