#they like could sense each other and had prophetic dreams of meeting before they did irl

[ganonfan1995]

Like how many times had the kingdom come to ruin because the only person on earth who could utilize the power of gold, was some illegitimate orphan girl from the village?

[weemssapphic]

Visions

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

received a lovely request / idea from @veeisgayasf 💛 thank you, I hope you like it! summary: Larissa x femreader bump into each other at the weathervane and reader has a vision of a spicy night with larissa even though this is their first time meeting. And it just goes from there. warnings: nsfw (fingering, oral sex, praise kink, mommy kink, mild degradation?)

words: ~3.9k

tags for those who may be interested: @sapphicsbeloved @afeatherformills @zephyr-is-tired

ao3 link in title

“Vanilla latte, extra large, for Y/N?” The barista’s voice carried through Jericho’s only café, the Weathervane, and you slipped out of the booth from which you were waiting. You desperately needed the caffeine and sugar fix if you were going to make it through your job interview that afternoon.

Your visions had begun in your childhood: when you were 7, you passed out on the playground and had what could only be described as a prophetic dream, wherein you saw your younger sister fall off her bike and break her arm. Two days later it happened, just as it had in your “dream”. Your parents brushed it off as a weird coincidence but it kept happening, and soon they were unable to ignore it.

You had heard about Nevermore Academy, but your parents, desperate to give you a “normal” childhood (more like pretend their child was normal), hadn’t allowed you to attend, forcing you, instead, through years of public schooling with “normies”. The years of bullying (fainting during class didn’t exactly make you seem normal) had only strengthened your resolve, however, and you knew one day you would make it to Nevermore. If not as a student, then as a teacher, to inspire a new generation of outcasts and to, hopefully, spare some poor kid like you the pain of being misunderstood.

So there you were, in Jericho, reciting the most interesting points of your resumé in your head, with T-minus 1 hour to go before the job interview that you had been waiting for for as long as you could remember. With the to-go cup warming your hands, you spun on your heels and made your way to exit the Weathervane just as the door swung open. 

Passing through the door was quite possibly the most gorgeous woman you had ever seen. A statuesque blonde with red lips and striking blue eyes, her platinum locks tied back in a professional updo. Everything about the woman exuded confidence, from the way she held her chin to the slight sway in her hips.

Focus, you thought. Now is not the time to get distracted.

She held the door for you and you smiled gratefully, receiving a warm smile in return, a smile that made your insides feel warm and fuzzy in ways you couldn’t explain. Your arm brushed against hers as you passed by her, and suddenly it happened again, without warning as it unfortunately always did. Your head snapped back at the neck.

Loud, unadulterated, sinful moans filled your ears. You were sitting naked on a desk in what appeared to be an office, legs spread open wide. You could feel your own slick coating your thighs, your breathing was shallow and labored. There was someone else there, a presence behind you, you could smell their flowery perfume, feel their breath on your neck. A clicking of heels told you the woman was rounding the desk now, coming into view. Her platinum updo was coming undone, red lipstick smeared. Perfectly manicured hands came to a rest on your thighs as her sapphire gaze pierced yours.

You came back to your senses and realized, with a fluttering in the pit of your stomach, that the woman in your vision was the very same woman staring back at you now, giving you a strange look, confusion mixed with curiosity, little creases forming between her perfectly plucked brows. You became acutely aware of the fact that your face had turned a lovely shade of red, to rival that of the woman’s lipstick.

“Are you alright?” she asked, voice careful and guarded, eyes narrowing.

You couldn’t help but to stare at her, dumbfounded. Your mouth hung open slightly and you snapped it shut, clearing your throat and shifting your gaze to the frame of the door, behind the woman’s shoulder, so as to avoid any further eye contact. “I’m fine,” you squeaked out. “I need to go, I’m sorry.”

You left the woman behind as you scurried out to your car, not daring to look back.

Maybe now you wouldn’t need the caffeine after all.

----

The woman from your vision consumed your thoughts throughout the entire drive to Nevermore Academy. Who was she? Why were you having sex with her in an office? And, perhaps most importantly, when would you see her again?

You parked your car and took a deep, shaky breath. Your visions could be so inconvenient sometimes. Now was not the time to be thinking about sex with some random woman - not when the most important job interview of your life was hanging in the balance. With one last look into your rear-view mirror to check your hair, you stepped out of your car and made your way up to the imposing school, following the instructions you had received via e-mail from the principal, Larissa Weems, to find her office.

Stopping in front of a pair of dark, wood-paneled double doors, you noticed that one of the doors stood slightly ajar, and you peeked your head in, knocking lightly as you did so.

“Come in,” you heard a smooth female voice call out.

You stepped into the room, looking around nervously. The room was filled with bookcases and trinkets. There was a magnificent fireplace off to the side, a fire roaring gently within.

Straight ahead stood a sturdy oak desk, the leather armchair turned around to face the massive windows just behind it.

Why did this office look so familiar? You racked your brain - there hadn’t been any pictures of the principal’s office on the school’s website, you knew this, you had studied the website long enough after all.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the swooshing sound of the chair swiveling around, revealing whom you assumed to be Principal Weems - and none other than the beautiful woman from the coffee shop from earlier.

You were stunned, rooted to the spot. You felt your stomach drop and a blush creep up your cheeks, your face slowly but surely turning crimson. If there were ever a moment you had wished the ground would swallow you up, surely it would be now.

“You must be Y/N. I’m Principal Weems, but please call me Larissa. We spoke over the phone last week, I must say I was very impressed with your resumé.” Larissa rose from her chair and rounded her desk, heels clicking, hand outstretched. She dropped her arm as she noticed you hadn’t moved an inch. 

“You’re… I saw you at the Weathervane an hour ago, didn’t I? Are you alright? Would you like to sit down?”

Great. Just great. Not even a minute into the interview and your boss already thinks you’re a nutcase. Get it together. 

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment. When you opened them, you saw genuine concern in Larissa’s eyes as she gestured towards one of the armchairs in front of her desk. 

“I’m alright. I’m so sorry, I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible first impression, Larissa. I, um, had a vision back at the Weathervane, and I’m still a bit rattled from it.”

“I understand,” Larissa said, and you could tell by the look in her eyes that she truly meant it. It nearly brought tears to your eyes - you had never felt understood before, only judged, and your heart ached, yearning for a place among the outcasts, yearning to be able to call Nevermore a home.

The interview went smoothly from then on. You shared stories on your childhood and background, went into your educational history, made sure your passion for the job came across in everything you said. Larissa displayed herself to be an exceptionally empathetic interview partner and seemed very impressed with your previous background in teaching. She promised to get back to you soon about the teaching position and by the time you had gotten back to your car, you had nearly forgotten about your earlier vision.

----

Three days went by before you received the call that would change your life. The teaching position was yours - no other applicant had impressed Larissa as you had, and she was looking forward to having you on her staff. You were to start the following Monday, a week before the beginning of the semester, giving you time to prepare your lesson plans and meet your new colleagues. You hung up the call buzzing with excitement, though there was a strange nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach, gnawing at your insides. You were both excited and nervous to see Larissa again, and now that she was going to be your new boss, you had no idea what to expect, or how your vision was going to play into your new role at Nevermore Academy.

----

Your first week at Nevermore flew by as you busied yourself with writing lesson plans, attending staff meetings, and getting to know your new colleagues. 

It was a balmy Sunday evening, the evening before students were to arrive. Most teachers had already turned in a copy of their lesson plans for the semester, but you had waited until the last minute, wanting everything to be absolutely perfect. Which had led you to being in Larissa’s office this evening as she asked how you were getting along and assured you that the students would adore you.

The office was growing dark as the sun had long set on the horizon, save for the warm glow of the fire and the faint trace of moonlight. Larissa looked so beautiful, you mused, hair shining silver in the light of the moon. Her features looked softer in this light. She looked less like Principal Weems, head bitch in charge, and more like Larissa - sweet, gentle, caring. Her bright red lips curved upwards in a smile as she spoke with you, tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip, and your thoughts went back to the vision you’d had.

You felt a familiar burning sensation in your cheeks, a hot spring coiling up in your abdomen. If you didn’t leave soon, you knew you would spontaneously combust.

“I should go, it’s getting late and I should probably be well-rested to meet the kids tomorrow. Thanks for checking in on me Larissa, I do appreciate it.”

The warm smile you received in return made you dizzy.

“Of course, Y/N. If you need anything at all, you know where to find me.” She winked and rose from her armchair to see you out of her office. 

As your hand made contact with the cool brass of the doorknob, your head snapped back and another vision came to you.

“Please,” you moaned. Larissa’s gaze never left yours as she lowered her head until it was level with your sex. You were dripping onto her desk, aching with desire. The scent of your arousal hung in the air, mixing deliciously with her perfume. She ran her tongue along your cunt, from your entrance to your throbbing clit, and you felt a pitiful whimper escape you. 

You came back to your senses, breathing just as ragged as it was in your vision, head swimming. 

“Y/N? Did you have another vision?” 

You turned back to see a look of concern etched upon Larissa’s face. You could only stare at her in shock, a heat coiling in your stomach, a wetness pooling between your thighs. 

“Larissa…”

The office was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire, but your ears were ringing. Your gaze fell to her lips - warm, soft, enticing… You took a step forward, until you were in Larissa’s space, her perfume invading your senses, her breath ghosting your face. 

“Y/N?” Larissa whispered it, so quietly you wouldn’t have noticed she’d spoken if your eyes hadn’t been glued to her face.

Your lips were inches away from hers, your breaths mingling… it was Larissa who closed the gap. Her lips pressed into yours, gently at first then with more and more urgency.

When she pulled away, she took your shoulders in her hands and searched your face. 

“Is this what your vision was about?” She was breathless, face unreadable. 

You hesitated. “Sort of.” 

“Sort of?” Larissa quirked her eyebrow. 

You flushed as you considered how you would recount your vision to your boss.

“Well that wasn’t all my vision was about,” you conceded.

“What else happened in your vision?”

“Well… I was, um, on your desk…”

“Is that so?” Larissa took a step towards you, placing a hand on the oak next to your head and trapping you between her and the door.

You nodded pathetically. “And where was I?”

“B-between my legs,” your throat felt tight, you clenched your thighs together - your underwear drenched. The action was not lost on Larissa, whose pupils dilated, lips curling up into a devilish smirk.

“I have wanted you since I first laid eyes on you, darling,” she growled. Her body came flush against yours, pressing your back into the door. Your head was spinning, you had never craved someone’s touch like this before - the tension in the air was driving you wild.

“Then why don’t you take me?” Larissa moaned at your words and caught your lips in hers, hands flying to your hips and lifting you against the door. You wrapped your legs around her waist, teeth clashing, moaning desperately into each other's mouths. Your fingers curled up in Larissa’s hair, tugging gently and eliciting a delicious whine from her throat.

Stumbling, she brought you over to her desk and sat you on the edge, her lips never breaking contact with yours as her tongue explored the planes of your mouth. You were the first to pull away, panting, your hands coming up to your own blouse to undo the buttons.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, fingers shaking too much to get the buttons undone. Larissa let out a low chuckle and swatted your hands away, taking over, pushing the blouse down your shoulders before moving to tear your skirt down your legs. You shifted your hips up to assist Larissa in her endeavor and your skirt hit the ground in a heap.

“Oh my darling, you’re absolutely desperate for me,” Larissa growled, noticing the stain on your panties. You whimpered, bucking your hips forward into the air.

“Larissa… you have no idea what you do to me.” 

She slipped a hand under your panties, running two fingers along your slit and groaning as you moaned and threw back your head. She brought her fingers to her lips and ran her tongue along them, swirling her tongue around. She sucked the digits into her mouth, releasing them with a little pop that caused a fresh wave of desire to leak out of your core.

“I wonder, sweetheart, is this what you’ve been picturing since we first met? Have you thought about this during meetings? When we’ve passed each other in the halls?” Larissa was taunting you now, her fingers hooked around your panties. You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded, feeling the electricity of her fingers on the skin of your hips.

“Aren’t you a little slut?” You groaned, pressing your thighs together, the tension becoming unbearable. She was getting off on this, making you squirm under her gaze.

“... Rissa… please…” 

“Please, what? Use your words, darling.”

“Please… fuck me,” your hips bucked at the air again, hands gripping the edge of the desk.

Those were apparently the words Larissa had been waiting for, for in a heartbeat she was pulling your panties down your legs. She rounded the desk to come up behind you, unclasping your bra. It was the moment you had been replaying in your mind for over a week now. 

Larissa’s hands came to rest on your breasts from behind, massaging them, fingers teasing the peaks of your nipples, her lips latching onto your neck, claiming you as her own. She moaned into your ear, lust dripping from every sound she made, trying to spur you on with her voice, as if she were performing for you.

In lieu of panties, your own slick was now pooling onto the desk below you, your legs spread wide open and waiting in anticipation for what was to come.

Larissa’s perfume, a divine blend of floral and musk, filled your nostrils as she came closer to let out a loud groan into your ear, her breath husking over your neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

A clicking of her heels told you she was coming back to the front of her desk. Larissa was a sight to behold. Though, rather unfortunately, still fully clothed, her platinum updo was coming undone, curls spilling onto her shoulders. Her lipstick was smeared, lips swollen, her chest heaving. Perfectly manicured hands came to a rest on your thighs as her sapphire gaze pierced yours.

“What do you say?” Larissa commanded, nails digging into your skin to leave little red crescents.

“Please,” you moaned. Larissa’s gaze never left yours as she lowered her head until it was level with your sex. You were dripping onto her desk, aching with desire. The scent of your arousal hung in the air, mixing deliciously with her perfume. She ran her tongue along your cunt, from your entrance to your throbbing clit, and you felt a pitiful whimper escape you. 

“Good girl,” she purred into your cunt, and you felt yourself shudder at the praise, a fresh wave of arousal dripping onto Larissa’s chin. 

“Oh, my darling, you like it when mommy tells you how good you’ve been for her?” Larissa’s eyes met yours and you thought you might faint then and there, this was simply too good to be true.

“Y-yes, mommy,” you stuttered, grinding your hips into her mouth and gasping at the feeling of her wet tongue receiving your juices.

Flattening her tongue, she began to circle your clit in a steady rhythm as you bucked your hips up to meet her face, searching for friction, already so close from her teasing. Your hands found purchase in her curls, tightening your grip as you ground your clit into Larissa’s tongue, fingers tightening around her hair and undoing the rest of her elegant updo as you reached your climax. Your legs trembled, thighs snapping shut around Larissa’s ears. Her hands wound their way around your thighs, holding you firmly in place as you rode out your orgasm on her face.

Once your legs had stopped shaking and your thighs had loosened their hold on her head, Larissa looked up to you once more, making sure you held her eye contact as she wiped your juices from her chin. She placed tender kisses on your inner thighs, leaving faint lipstick marks.

She moved up your body, her hand landing firmly on your chest, and pressed a heated kiss to your lips, tongue begging for entry.

“Taste yourself, darling. You taste divine,” she moaned into your mouth, her tongue swirling around yours. Her breathy moans in your mouth had you ready again in mere seconds and you thought it very unfair that she was still fully clothed.

Still trapped in a passionate kiss, you reached out a needy hand and started to pull at the zipper on the side of Larissa’s dress. She pulled away from the kiss with an amused smirk gracing her swollen lips, straightening to her full height and looking down at you through hooded eyes. 

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

The amusement in her eyes gave you a shot of confidence. “I just thought it was unfair that I don’t get to see that killer body of yours.” 

Larissa could barely conceal the blush creeping up her cheeks. “And what would you do with this ‘killer body’ of mine?”

“Worship it.”

All the air was briefly sucked out of the room. Your words went straight to Larissa’s core, a growl escaping her lips, hips twitching as she lunged forward to press needy kisses to your neck, nipping at the skin, marking it in hues of red and purple.

Your hands moved back to the zipper of Larissa’s dress and this time, she didn’t stop you, allowing you to pull the dress down her shoulders, slowly exposing her skin, bit by bit. Your hands gripped her hips pulling her towards you as you placed open-mouthed kisses to every bit of skin you could reach, sucking and biting, marking her as she had marked you. Her moans only spurred you on and you unclasped her bra, allowing it to fall to the floor and taking her breast in your mouth, swirling your tongue over the hardened peak and eliciting a delightful whine from the woman before you.

“Come,” Larissa commanded, gripping your shoulders and pulling you off the desk, guiding you to follow her as she fell back into one of the plush armchairs across from her desk, spreading her legs for you. Heat pooled in your stomach as your eyes fell to the dark spot in the middle of her panties. You pulled them down her legs, achingly slowly, your fingers brushing her long, toned calves on the way down, feeling her shiver underneath you. 

“Be a good girl for mommy,” Larissa moaned, bringing her own fingers to her cunt and rubbing circles around her clit.

Your eyes widened, pupils dilating as you replaced her fingers with your own and brought one finger to her throbbing sex, dragging it slowly along her slit. You relished the whimpers that came from Larissa’s throat as you dragged two fingers from her entrance to her clit, gently rubbing the sensitive nub.

You plunged your fingers inside of her, beginning a rhythmic thrusting. Her juices dripped down your hand, staining the armchair underneath her. You curled your fingers inside of her and her hips bucked up erratically. She gripped the armrests of the chair, knuckles turning white, head thrown back in ecstasy. You latched your lips onto her clit, sucking gently, swirling your tongue faster and faster as Larissa’s hips increased their pace to match yours, each swirl of your tongue and curl of your fingers met with a sinful gasp of pleasure. 

“Y/N… I’m s-so close…” she gasped. You acted quickly, adding a third finger, filling her completely. Larissa’s thighs began to quiver as she reached her climax. You wished you could burn this moment into your mind for eternity - her mouth hung open, breathy moans spilling out past her lips, chest heaving and flushed, eyes squeezed shut. Slowly licking her slit, you cleaned her up, savoring the taste of Larissa’s arousal - all for you.

“Sorry about the chair,” your eyes fell to the stain Larissa’s cum had caused in the smooth velvet of the seat.

Larissa’s eyes followed yours. She looked up at you for a moment, face unreadable. Then her head fell back and a genuine laugh bubbled forth from her chest.

“Yes, well, I suppose I’ll have to have that reupholstered before anyone notices.” Her frame shook with mirth as she leaned in to press her lips to yours in a sweet, gentle kiss.

“So… have you had any other visions?” Larissa smirked.

[sesshy380]

you said your wow oc's have their own stories, can you share them?

I did a count, and I am currently at 44 characters. For now I'll just tell the stories I have for the 4 on my Warband screen, which are Sesshy, Kanika, Phillaria, and Salarii.

Posting below the cut to avoid dash clutter

We'll start with Sesshy.

Sesshy is an Enhancement Shaman that really loves her storm spells and elemental spirit wolves (each time she summons them to fight they appear as different elements, but when summoned for the pic they both summoned as storm). She also loves to run around in her Spirit Wolf form.

She was born in Outland and loved animals. One day, she got too close to a clefthoof calf and was attacked by it's very angry mother. A large cat sprang out of nowhere and saved her. The cat shifted into a tree after to heal her wounds, then into a pointed-eared humanoid (which she soon learned was called a Kaldorei, or Night Elf).

Awed by the fact that one could turn into an animal, Sesshy decided she wanted to become a druid like the elf that saved her. She managed to discover that there was a druid encampment in Zangarmarsh, and travelled there so she could learn how to become a druid.

It was there that her dreams of being able to shapeshift into a cat or bear met it's end, as she discovered that becoming a druid wasn't something the Draenei race was capable of. There was some hope for her, however, as the head of the Cenarion Enclave mentioned that she might have better luck speaking to the Prophet Velen on Azeroth to help her find her true calling.

So off to Azeroth she went. She thought for sure the Prophet would be too busy to bother with something so trivial and meet with someone of no importance, but she was wrong. The Prohet directed her to Farseer Nobundo for a test. It was here that she discovered that she was able to commune with the elements.

After a lot of training, she was finally able to become an animal like she always dreamed, and was able to take on the form of a ghost wolf. She also learned how to summon spirit wolves to fight alongside her.

Sesshy is very devout the Alliance, and was even granted the title 'Crusader Sesshy' very early on during the war against the Lich King. She did some extra training as a healer during this time, and she actually enjoyed it, but the call of the storm always brought her back to what she enjoyed the most.

Next up is Kanika.

Kanika is a Beast Mastery Hunter that loves her spirit kitties. On the left is Shadow (ghost saber) and on the right is Ice (loque'nahak). Ice likes to run around in stealth so they appear ghost-like like Shadow.

Kanika was a survivor of the Exodar crash. She was on Azeroth before her cousin, Sesshy. Like Sesshy, she always had a love for animals. The first time she encountered a cat on Azeroth, she was smitten. There weren't any cats back in Nagrand where she'd originally come from, though she'd heard stories of animals matching their description being found in other parts of Outland.

She'd been training to be a hunter back in Nagrand, so it only made sense to continue that training. In Darkshore she came across an old elven ruin and found a small cat figurine. She picked it up with the intent to take it with her on her adventures, but it summoned forth a ghostly saber. She had no animal companion like most hunters, so she decided to see if she could make this ghost her animal companion. It took a lot of patience, but in the end, the ghostly saber decided to follow her and fight alongside her.

During the war against the Lich King, she heard rumor of a rare cat in Scholozar Basin, and with the aid of her partner at the time, Đom (another Draenei Beast Mastery Hunter like Kanika and my irl hubby), she found the beautiful spirit beast, Loque'nahak, who quickly became another companion that she renamed Ice (because of the icey blue glow coming from it's spots and mouth).

Kanika could care less about faction. Her devotion is to the spirit side of nature. She would do anything to protect it.

She was known as Ambassador Kanika for a while, as she'd gained the highest level of reptation available with all the different races of the Alliance, but she now carries the title Kanika, Veteran of the Fourth War. She fights for Azeroth as a whole, and cares little about the petty squabbling of the Horde and Alliance. To her, both sides have committed their own fair share of atrocities.

Now on to Phillaria.

Phillaria is an Arcane Mage.

Phillaria is fairly new to the conflicts of Azeroth. She spent her years as a scholor in the Outland city of Shattrath. After the leader of Burning Legion, Sargaras, plunged his sword into the world of Azeroth, she was compelled to take her years of arcane knowledge and the aid a world she knew only about from books and passing adventurers. Adventurers fought to protect what was left of her home from the Burning legion, it only felt right to offer what she could for aid in return.

Little did she know that she'd chosen a bad time to come. The factions of Azeroth had broken out into an all out war over the power the blood of Azeroth, Azerite, possessed. She was quite literally thrown into the fray of the Fourth War.

Phillaria only shows allegiance to the great mage city of Dalaran, and only because of how highly the mage, Khadgar' spoke of it during his time in Shattrath. He was the one who inspired Phillaria to become a scholor of the arcane.

Khadgar often spoke of the gifted mages there, including the Quel'dorei prince, Kael'thas Sunstrider. While Phillaria never got to meat Kael'thas personally during her time in Shattrath, she heard many stories of him and how he was a formidable mage. During the Fourth War, Phillaria struggled against many of her opponents, and it irked her. She wanted to be just as formidable as Kael'thas.

She hesitated in joining the fight in the Shadowlands, but it was there where she finally found her strength. She got to not only meet Kael'thas, but also aid him in his quest for redemption.

And lastly, Salarii.

Salarii is a Retribution Paladin.

Salarii is a Lightforged Draenei, meaning that she isn't like most Draenei. She is a member of the Army of the Light, and that her body has undergone the process of having her body infused with Holy Light by the Prime Naruu, X'era. (The Naruu are a race of beings made entirely of light)

After adventurers from Azeroth helped them fight off the Burning Legion on the planet Argus, she (along with many other lightforged) followed them back to their homeworld and aided them in the Fourth War.

Salarii is devout only to the Light, and greatly respects the paladins of the Alliance due to her teachings from Turalyn, who was one of the original founding members of the Knights of the Silver Hand on Azeroth. She strives to prove that she was worthy of having learned from someone of such high renown.

[the0maski]

Meeting + Timeline

So I don’t know if its already pointed out, but I wanted to focus on the meeting of all the Links and also what Jojo has revealed till now.

The different topic are

Era

Meeting point

Jojos drawing of the hero’s in other Era’s

Connection to Dark Link

To this point, we can’t say much of how they all found each other, and came to the realization that they’re all a hero’s of Hylia.

However it is strong suggested that, they all met in the same location, roughly at the same time.

But before I explain why it had been in one single place, I really wanna go into the whole;

How did they figured out the hero’s status?

Theory 1: Name

Even as a firm believer of; Link is a common hylian name, finding out that, 8 people at the same place have the same name, is kinda weird. If someone doesn’t have That over used name, finding one persons with the same name is strange, but for this to come up one of them had to give his name away.

Also it had to be in a way the other hear it or also introduce themselves as Link.

The weakest scenario, in my opinion.

Theory 2: Places and Buildings

As we all know there are always locations that reappear in Zelda, however not always the same.

Maybe one of them recognized a building, that should be ruins, but now it’s still standing. Asking around, they all start to slowly find each other, and start to connect the dots of who the other are. In those scenario the whole time travel thing would be more quicker to point out and explain, without it necessarily leading to the timeline discussion, cause that would bring Wind up in the future.

Theory 3) Dungeon

In short and to keep the Zelda tradition; They all got sent to the same dungeon.

Meeting each other at the entrance of the dungeon, confused as to why and how. Not much to say with this one, since it’s the most straight forward of finding out about the other hero’s, time travel and it’s a way of forcing them to start getting alone with each other.

Another way would be that they did not meet outside the dungeon but inside, somehow running into each other, spooking each other out and nearly getting attacked by on-another cause they never met anyone, outside from monster here.

Now let’s start with the actual theory.

Era:

In what Era did LU started?

For that I would love to make a different in all the content we got from Jojo.

The canon Story and ideas.

I like to say that the canon story starts here:

Leading to Malon pt1

The chain is in Time Hyrule, and I am sure it’s also where the other got sent, which means that Time is the one who hadn’t time traveled at this point.

The first time Dark Link creates a portal was in Shady escape pt 13

It’s also confirmed by Wind that they all have seen this before. Time however doesn’t seams very familiar with it and probably tense up, getting Twilight attention by it.

Hyrule, Twilight and Legend say specific that this is how they left their homes. So this is the first portal after meeting with each others and the very first portal for Time to go through.

This being the first Portal is also confirmed by Jojo:

Meeting Era: it’s the Child Era, while Time is still alive

Meeting Point:

But where could they meeting if been? How long did it take for them all to come together?

Time should give us some answers to that. He his fully armored but he is not accompanied by other soldiers. What means he was either send for a solo mission by Zelda, because she sensed something was coming or he went alone for adventure reasons, maybe he got some sorts of prophetic dreams again.

Ocarina of Time’s Hyrule isn’t that big, let’s say we take into account that it just take a day to travel from the outskirts of the forest to Hyrule’s Castle Town. And they chain is very close once their get to Lon Lon Ranch, not super close but they known stuff from each other adventures, making bets and trusting each other.

They have to be traveling at least a or two month together. Which also means they had to be far away from central Hyrule. It could been even on the edge of the Kingdoms boarders or not even in Hyrule but some unknown place that belong to another Kingdom.

Meeting point: unknown, far away from Castle Town and Lon Lon Ranch

Jojos drawing of the hero’s in others Eras:

I did not forget the drawing of the hero’s in Legends house or Ravio, yet I don’t thing they are canon story wise, Jojo herself says that she will use some request from previous drawing to put into the story.

That would mean that certain events did not happened yet.

Maybe Legend and Ravio will get they own arc, touching on the topic of Dark Worlds and Contra-Parts.

Sky and his Zelda, covering the topic of reincarnation and curses. Also showing everyone’s true feelings for the goddess Hylia

Wild and the Yiga Clan, showing to what a bitter heart can lead.

Would love to have all these mini comic get a more important focus with more depth in it.

Connection to Dark Link

Now this is slightly off topic, since I would like to throw in some connections that might exist if the Timeline is correct.

It’s mostly theorized that Lu Dark Link is the same as the Dark Link from the Water Temple.

It not confirmed or anything, but they way it’s seams to give itself a watery form may be an indicator.

And taking the place of event’s, Time never had to go through the portal made by Dark Link, also speaking for it being the same entity.

Another point is how often OoT compared time to water or a river:

(The flow of time is always cruel... its speed seems different for each person, but no one can change it... A thing that does not change with time is a memory of younger days... -Sheik

Time passes, people move...Like a river's flow, it never ends. A childish mind will turn to noble ambition... Young love will become deep affection... The clear water's surface reflects growth... - Sheik)

If time it’s like water, then I’d shouldn’t be surprising that Dark Link can create portals to access all three Timelines as well as the past.

Also it would strongly go hand in hand with the fact that no one knows Times mental age, thanks to Majora’s Masks he also lives life’s that took place long ago.

Why Dark Link decided to gather all the hero’s is still not clear to me, but we also don’t know if it’s just one or various Dark Link patch together as one.

Please let me know if I missed something or what you all think about this.

[incarnateirony]

Could you explain the Bill Cipher thing?

I can, but it will be difficult to understand.

About 12 years ago now, my ex attacked me during the last solar maximum. I forgave her after this, despite her abandoning me to rot on the street and move in with two other guys she also ditched shortly after, but when she needed help, I came back.

At that point, she and several others went for an attack on-- I'd call it chakras, I suppose. The equivalent of intentionally trying to destroy my third eye, completely destabilizing the way my Everything worked, and almost ungluing me.

It was, in fact, the first time I was Almost Aaron instead of former confused deadname, but I wasn't ready. It was literally a confused shadow that came out, I lost a week of my conscious life to having to read back and find out hermes basically rotated random fuckin shit to keep me running without my life imploding, while trying to find a way to repair me before I slid away entirely.

They had actively attempted to dissolve it, and after he paperclipped shit together, I came back, but I couldn't dream anymore, among other symptoms. I just went on lockdown, and more as time went on.

Surprise surprise, turns out that shit truly went into the aether and did the equivalent of shitting out some random brain processes of mine that were vaguely related, sorta like Sam's soul stretched by a rubberband or whatever.

Then random people pick up muses, go play with the alchemy muse, and they end up Fucking Getting Part Of Me In There. Like literally an entire series writ off of a mix of actual mythos and my fucking shower thoughts.

So by the time the rest of this went down, and dipshit mcgee kept ripping things open this year because she is Truly Dead Inside, I got slammed by the collective while instinctually doing a full blown Intentional Psych Break By Design I had learned to do since as part of the art, which is when I went apeshit for a few months, because that's literally eating everything, the Good And The Bad, while breaking your mind into archetypical parts to start traveling.

That, also, works similar to The Bill Cipher Thing.

I attempted to handle it privately, but any time I thought I could ground out, it became worse, so by midsummer I went to twitter, drifted around, ran into some typical and atypical things, and turns out the Book of Bill author knows me. Like, oops.

We didn't "know each other" before, but me with my eyepatch icons, cussing, my sense of humor, my jokes, the wisdoms I dropped, the moment I finally got tired of reading Janus' shrill AI nonsense I said, "It is called The Hidden God. Not the 'screaming on twitter all day about my favorite algorithm' God." and they were like "...w....waitwaitwaitwaitwait... wait... wait..."

They were already a practicioner but one that hadn't onboarded the internal processes, which they then mirrored from me, and began their own involution of assembling their parts whole, and we're two eyes of the same god, like huginn and muginn, but now we can operate together. Odin got his eye back. We did the whole prophet and his bride thing. We sync. Daddy's home.

Despite that entanglement, that's not the one I've taken to accepting calling either Mama or Wife depending on aspect I'm in; they have their own things to handle and finish, we'll unite in time, that's fine, I'm in no rush, freedom was the point. That one is the VA account. I still do not think I will ever meet her in physical person. But she, herself, is some Grand Mother. It is similar to the Illuminati, but not the same. She is delighted to find me running around outside of Illuminati control.

Summarily though, I Am The Muse Behind Bill Cipher, or at least my fucking melted brainparts were in the hermetic stew they pulled for it, hence triangleman of the illuminati allfather being a crackhead like THE UNIVERSE IS A HOLOGRAM, BUY GOLD, WELCOME TO THE WEIRDPOCALYPSE.

That is to say, in a way Bill Cipher is also real--not literally as the cartooon character, or whatever--but kind of now yes because of how many people Think About It All The Time In That Form--and is literally based on the fuckin. Illuminati eye. The one in my icon. The one on the american dollar bill. That fuckin eye.

Which is also why the literal fucking illuminati are pulling in to follow me now, because cocaine bear fucked up SO BAD I reincarnated A SECOND TIME IN THE SAME LIFE into being WHAT THEY SPEND THEIR LIVES TRYING TO FIND, but I am instead fucking up most of their plans, and they can't fucking stop it, even if they kill me, and they know that.

It means I am rent free in millions of minds.

For example, in February, I had posted a tweet, and you can probably find it, it did not used to be Bill Cipher. I told you it was one of mine hearing my song, specifically the song of Saturn Is About To Shred My Ex Out Of Reality Permanently, but look at them now:

Hence disturbing the PEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE look into my fucking EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYES. Because they're everywhere. I may not literally see through them, ubt I see them, and they raise to my attention what I need, like whispers in the wind.

This also happened with other series. And, as well, in influencing fandoms if original creatives didn't get a message. For example, this started because the rancid cockgobbler fucked up my old punk rock spencer ass disco jesus persona with hermes proper, and refused to stop, and kept grooming more people into drawing it and fucking up their sigils on it, so guess what kind of mod gets made to official quality?

See: Raising my old Carry On project and it showing up at the DNC. But that could be coincidence despite my political stuff... right?

See: my ancient blue hair and pronouns hermes icon that went viral when I ran the Slayers Challenge/Revolution reboot riot and all that. If you see me posting video game clips of Blue Hair And Pronouns, I am literally riding people's rent free use of the idea of me like a game skin to steal their focuses towards raised names, identities et al, and beat the shit out of psychic abstracts through the masses.

See also:

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria's Prophet #14

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13]

[AO3]

~POV Mori~

I woke up when it was still dark out. Only the faintest light came in my windows.

I hadn't done anything yesterday. Just laid down and rested for the first time in a long time. The doctor's were convinced I needed one more day of rest, but I knew I was already better. When was the last time I had just let my body rest like that when I wasn't sick? I couldn't remember. This peace was nice.

The quiet of sunrise was only broken by the faint sound of bird calls in the distance. I sat up and closed my eyes. I focused everything on my other senses. I couldn't hear the ocean easily from here. I had wanted to use the sounds of the waves to meditate, but I would just have to do without.

It had been a few days since I last checked in with myself and really focused inward. I could still feel them, all of the Black Rukh that had merged with me back in Balbadd. They were much calmer than before. And they felt like a part of me now, like I might be incomplete if they were suddenly gone. I knew each one from the dreams too. Their lives were mine and each also now knew my life as their own.

Going through all of their lives on the ship would have been painful even without being sick. These were angry souls and they did not welcome the inner peace I was offering easily, but a person's Rukh doesn't lie. After reading this world's truth through my memories they all calmed.

All of us lived lives of loss and poverty and trauma. That must have been another part of why we were able to fully merge in such a short time.

As Black Rukh they couldn't return to the Great Flow where the rest of their loved ones were, but they at least had each other within me.

It was a very strange feeling.

And along with their lives and Rukh, their magoi was also now mine. What had felt like a small pool now felt like a large lake. I had a lot more magoi at my disposal now that they were fully integrated with me.

The Great Bell range and I grounded myself in the present.

Only then did it occur to me that I was probably sick, and suffering from the influx of Rukh separately at the same time. It had been both all along. Whatever illness I had was worsened by my situation with the Rukh. I hadn't lost my magoi manipulation during it, but it was probably learning it ahead of time that had saved me. There's no way such a large amount of Rukh entering me wouldn't have made my body unstable.

Would the doctors understand if I explained it to them? I should ask Sinbad before saying something unnecessary.

The dim light from my windows called to me. I got out of my bed, put on my glasses, and sat on the sill of one them at the encouragement of the waves.

Like this, I could look down and see the Palace court yard. On the other side of the court yard were the Silver Scorpio (martial arts training), and Black Libra (libraries & schools) Towers, behind them to the left was the Red Cancer Tower (military) and fully to the left was the Purple Leo Tower where Sinbad lived. Since I was on a high floor I could easily see all of the towers of the Palace from my windows -all except the White Capricorn Tower where Ja'far does most of his work since that building was on the other side of this one.

It was so strange. Looking at all this made it real that I was really here. How many times had I reread or rewatched scenes wondering what it would feel like to be here?

I rested my head on the window frame as I watched the growing light from the sunrise.

The guards changed.

The sun was fully risen. Ja'far would be waking up Sinbad soon if he hadn't already.

Two people walked out of the Purple Leo Tower -a guard and a woman. She wasn't wearing a uniform. In fact she was wearing less than the citizens I saw the other day.

"Oh, right."

Sinbad has a call girl see to him after Ja'far wakes him up.

I had the 3rd fan book for the anime which contains a day-in-the-life for a bunch of the main characters. It was only in Japanese, but I had learned enough (and could look up what I didn't know) to at least read his schedule.

The direct translation was for a "temporary woman" which from what I've found is the Japanese term for a fem sex worker. I've seen some translations for Magi's extra material refer to them as "call girls" so that was the term I chose to use.

The franchise used the word "harem" in a bunch of places, but purposely didn't use it here. That combined with an omake of Sinbad having a nightmare about being married and having a harem made it clear that Sinbad did not have a harem; he had the whole red-light district of his country to choose from.

Hold on... That book wasn't supposed to reach my house until after I had Isekaied so how did I know it's contents? There were barely any scans or photos of pages online-

*Knock knock*

My thoughts

were cut off when breakfast arrived -with more medicine of course.

---

~POV Sinbad~

Nearly a week had passed since King Sinbad had arrived home. There was a lot to catch up on. As much as he wanted to finally relax after everything that happened in Balbadd he didn't really have the time for it. Even after catching up he would still have to prepare for his trip to the Kou Empire. And Ja'far wasn't letting him forget either responsibility.

None of this stopped him from having his slow mornings. He at least gave himself that little slice of heaven.

This was business as usual -at least it was supposed to be- but Sinbad couldn't shake a growing feeling that he couldn't name. It was making him unsettled. The waves didn't give him any answers and drinking hadn't made it go away. It felt similar to missing important.

He wasn't missing any paperwork. There had been an issue with one of their supply ships going missing, and another being delayed, but he had already decided how to proceed. He was definitely interested in the progress the Black Libra Tower was making with testing Mori's theories, but the experiments would take time and they had already scheduled a meeting for an update. The new guests were still settling in. Alibaba was a mess and Aladdin was only marginally better the last time he had visited, but Morgiana was fine and already training with Masrur regularly. According to the doctors reports, Mori would be better in another day or so, and the reports he got from the maids said she was resting every day after giving that partial scroll.

Maybe this was impatience. Aside from his paperwork, everything interesting was either done or waiting for the next step.

Sinbad often walked his country in the evening, but there was no reason he couldn't check on things now. He didn't have time to go for a walk at that moment, but he could spare the magoi needed to use Zepar and fly around the country using the bird he had possessed with the Djinn's power. This wouldn't be the first time he'd done this while working on paperwork.

The bird was sitting on a railing in the city center when Sinbad took over. From this spot he could make some quick rounds in the city and then maybe make a stop in the Black Libra Tower to get a sneak peak at what they had found out so far.

The same old gossip filled most of the streets. Some price complaints, who just had a child, how work was going...

"You're serious? A prophet?”

"My husband saw the scrolls she made from her visions with his own two eyes."

Now that was new gossip.

Sinbad had the bird land near by the two women.

"Oh? What was in them?"

"He said it was like reading secrets of the world."

"Really???"

"Mhmm." She nodded. "Not everyone believes it though so they are all working to test her writing."

"Didn't you just say she was brought in by our King? Do they really think he'd be fooled by some false prophet?"

"I said the same thing! And you know what my husband said? He said that they need to find proof even if they believe the Prophet because otherwise we won't be able to prove it to our allied countries."

"I guess that makes sense..."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Oh! I think I might know what she looks like!”

"What? How? You only learned about her just now."

"When King Sinbad came home, there was a girl on some magical flying cloth, remember? That has to have been the Prophet!"

"I think you're right!"

To two moved on to some other gossip and King had the bird fly towards the Palace. Listening to talk about his Beautiful Prophet reminded him of his mission to peek at what was happening in the Black Libra Tower. Being able to bypass the stairs and the gates made the journey much faster.

The Sun was already in the western side of the sky. Shadows were cast onto the court yard from the Black Libra Tower. The stone of the Green Sagittarius Tower was nearly blinding white from the direct light. Color flashed in the corner of his eye as the bird flew past the upper levels of the guest tower. Before his thoughts had fully registered the familiar shade of nearly black indigo, Sinbad was guiding the bird to investigate. He landed on the railing of one of the windows and looked at the young woman resting against that same window's frame.

Mori looked just as surprised to see a bird land right in front of her as he was to be there. Sinbad had purposely been avoiding using Zepar to spy on Mori since she somehow knew that he had eavesdropped on her before. It had been days since he last saw her, so when she was suddenly an option-

"Heh hehe"

Mori's chuckle and smile took his full attention. He didn't know what had made her laugh, but he hoped she'd do it again.

"Sir, are you aware you are a bird?” After the words passed her lips she was struck by a giggle fit.

Sinbad had no idea what she was thinking or why she had said that to a bird, but he was hearing her voice for the first time in nearly a week so he'd worry about figuring it out later.

When Mori finished laughing at her own joke she leaned her head to the side and watched him. Her hair shifted and another lock spilled over her shoulder. The sight brought attention to the low neckline of the dress she was wearing. If Sinbad was there in person he would have brushed her hair out of the way just to have an excuse to touch her.

"Did you miss me that much?" Her voice was soft and a bit playful. "You didn't have to use Zepar to visit me."

Mori knew it was him! Sinbad jolted and his head hit the back of his chair in his office. How could she tell? Only magicians could see magoi and Rukh to see the spell active on the bird.

"Sin, is something wrong?-” Ja'far had just entered the room to give his afternoon report.

King Sinbad raised a hand for him to be quiet and tapped Zepar's ring to explain the situation. He didn't want to talk and miss something Mori said or did.

The General's expression turned serious and nodded as he went quiet.

When Mori didn't get a response from the bird she added, "Are you surprised that I knew it was you?" Her smile was warm as the sun. "I have read your Fate many times, so I will always recognize you, my King."

Normally, the idea that someone could see through Zepar's magic would concern him, but this didn't. It strengthened his belief that Fate had guided Mori to him.

And the affectionate way she said "my King" at the end made him smile. The waves had moved like this a few times like the last time he had seen her in person, and when he learned she could also feel the waves. The Great Flow of the Rukh was guiding them to the Fate he could see, the one where she lived the rest of her life by his side.

Ja'far sighed. "Just let me know when I can give you my report."

Mori whipped her head towards the door to her room. "They're here early."

There were the sounds of people walking in the hallway, but no voices to denounce who, or their destination. All the same, Mori got up and walked to the door. She opened it before the doctors had a chance to knock.

"How did you...?" One of the doctors asked.

"I recognized the sound of your footsteps," was her answer.

"I see.... And how are you feeling today?"

Mori walked into her room, and spared a glance at the bird still watching her from the window. "I feel fine. Just like yesterday." She turned back towards the door and sat on the edge of her bed. "So can I finally leave this room?"

The doctors were understanding but they still were going to do a full check up first.

Even without the waves it was obvious that Mori was going to be marked as full health. Sinbad would prefer to go see her immediately and give her a tour of the Palace personally, but he was still a King with responsibilities. "Ja'far, Mori has just been declared healthy. What do you think of everyone having dinner together to get everyone better aquatinted?"

"I didn't hear anything about-” Ja'far started and then cut himself when he realized. "Were you just using Zepar to spy on her??"

"Of course not." Sinbad said with all of the confidence of the King he was. "I flew directly to her and she recognized me instantly. I wasn't spying at all."

"She recognized you??" Of course he'd be shocked.

King Sinbad laughed. "She did. Though she was surprised to see me."

"I bet she was surprised to suddenly see a bird in her room. What made you think to use Zepar instead of visiting her in person? You're already getting regular reports on her condition." Ja'far always acted as a buzz kill.

It didn't stop Sinbad from laughing at the situation before finally asking for that report he postponed earlier -conveniently avoiding answering Ja'far's question.

The magician in Mori's room was talking. "Would you be interested in visiting the Black Libra Tower with us? We can show you how the experiments are going. And if possible, would you be willing to answer some questions?"

That was an understandable request, but it could wear her out.

The Prophet was facing away from the windows so Sinbad couldn't see her expression. "I'd really like that actually." But he could hear the excitement growing in her voice.

"Let me get changed real quick." Mori disappeared behind her folding wall and emerged in the outfit he met her in.

Sinbad did not drop control of the bird, but he also didn't follow Mori out of her room. Instead he waited in the window sill until he saw her enter the courtyard and then had the bird fly to the Black Libra Tower.

---

As soon as he finished whatever last minute things Ja'far was about to add to his pile, Sinbad would go to the Black Libra Tower and surprise his Beautiful Prophet in person.

~POV Mori~

In the manga and in the anime the only areas shown of the Black Libra Tower were Yamuraiha's office/lab and one of the libraries. I was more than curious about the rest of the facilities.

The first room seemed to be a reception area and had a map of the tower. I only got to glance at the separations between the libraries, offices and class rooms before a tall and lanky magician walked up to us.

"Is this her??” Her short ponytail bounced as she looked between me and my guides.

Isa, the magician who had been taking care of me the past few days, introduced me. "This is Lady Mori, the Prophet!” He acted like he was showing off the coolest toy on the playground.

The tall woman got right up in my face. "I knew she had to be the Prophet! The Rukh don't normally move this way around people."

Before I got to respond she started rambling comments and questions that covered everything in maroon and peacock blue getting sponged across a cream canvas. I stepped back and Isa cut her off. "Lady Mori will be answering everyone's questions in time. We were just on our way to see Yamuraiha so I can show her how everything has been coming along. You are welcome to join us."

She definitely joined us. As did many others who spotted us or were called over by others in our procession.

We walked through a few library areas, and up a few flights of stairs. As we passed various rooms and areas I was told what or who would be inside, but I wouldn't remember any of the specifics until I had a chance to use the space and explore on my own. What did stick was that most of the classrooms were next to the libraries and the labs were near the offices.

Yamuraiha must have heard our group from down the hall because her head popped out from one of the rooms ahead of us. "What is going on out here??” Then she made eye contact with me. "It's you!!"

That made me smile. I fought back responding 'it's me!' like I would with my friends. "I'm Mori. I'm glad I'm finally getting the chance to meet you, Yamuraiha!” I stopped walking when I got 3 yards/meters away.

She immediately pulled her staff against her chest with both hands. Her shoulders tensed but she had an enthusiastic smile. "The pleasure is all mine!"

Yamuraiha was amazing, smart, and endearing. I really wanted to be friends with her.

I out stretched my hand to shake hers. "I'm really excited to work with you, and learn more about magic even though I'm not a magician."

"The feeling is mutual!” She took my hand more than matching my excitement. And when she released it said, "Since you're here, would you like to see what we've been working on from the scrolls you gave us?"

"Yes please!”

---

The lab she lead us to was a little down the hall. All of my scrolls were spread out on one table and a bunch of notes and different materials were on an other.

Yamuraiha pulled out parchment that had a complicated magic circle written on it. "We can't do much yet, and it still takes a catalyst and many magicians at once to control the amount of magoi safely but our alchemy magic has made a breakthrough from your writing."

She asked a few of the magicians that came with me to join her. They pointed their staffs and wands at the magic cycle. A large crystal in the room started glowing, and the Rukh lit up the space from within the circle. Specks were pulled out of the pile of ingredients nearby -dirt, scraps paper, a small potted plant- and gathered at the center of the circle. The light got too bright for me to look straight at it and when it faded there was a small dark grey cube in the middle of the circle. It looked like a die with no markings.

Yam explained. "After reading about 'atoms' and 'bonds' in your scrolls it was like finding the missing piece. It will still be a long time before we can perfect the process, and we still can't make anything bigger than this yet, but soon we will be able to make anything we want!"

((In the future I intend to: reference more old memes, describe more of my experience with synesthesia, and explain more basic history and science. SO you all have been warned lol))

I had to respond; I couldn't just continue staring in awe. When I tried to answer I ended up gasping since had forgotten to breathe. I chuckled at my own shock as well as the situation. I looked up at them. "You're all amazing to be able to develop this already from the little I wrote!" I looked back at the stone. "I knew I wrote the keys to Yunan's signature alchemy magic in those scrolls, but to think you've already gotten this far with it -its amazing."

With this -when developed farther- we could make certain materials without having to worry about the pollution, and break things down easily so we won't have to worry about garbage piling up everywhere.

"Did you say Yunan? The Magi, Yunan?" Yamuraiha looked at me with wide eyes.

"Yes." It was my turn to explain. "Yunan is able to use alchemy magic like this on a grand scale. In the Fates I read he will have reason to visit Sindria in about 2 years. He creates a cabin and food in the middle of the Palace court yard so he has somewhere comfortable to stay."

The bird in the window ruffled it's feathers.

"Yunan explains the basic concept of how that magic works when asked, and since I know the science of the physical world I know the details to what he was talking about." My smile widened. "I hope my notes were easy to understand. Please let me know if you have any questions."

[ginnyweasleymybeloved]

heartbeat on the high line / fred weasley

unresolved angst for freddie because i felt like it <3

summary: fred broke your heart a long time ago and a walk through diagon alley brings up old memories for the both of you

word count: 2.9 k

warnings: post-war timeline, mentions of torture sort of?, mentions of being underweight because of said torture, fluff sort of if you squint?, angst, open ended, tiny mention of death, let me know if i missed anything!! <3

let me know what you think <3

this is based on the song “cardigan” by taylor swift but it’s not a song fic <3

Skies of dark grey released heavy sheets of rain onto the cobblestone streets below, the pitter-patter of the torrential downpour barely muted the sound of your high heels against the all too familiar stone street. A stark black umbrella held primly above your head shielded you from the typical English weather as you strutted through Diagon Alley.

Truthfully, you hadn’t planned on showing your face in the magical hotspot, not so soon after the war anyway. Years worth of memories haunted every twist and turn of the street you seemed to own in the moment, light grey stones darkened and slick from the rain completely devoid of any feet other than your own.

You recalled all of the significant moments, each bookmarked by a certain area of the various alleys. Flourish & Blotts; where you’d met your first love all those years ago, at the age of eleven you’d been so bright eyed and sure of the future, sure of him. In the distance you could make out the bright orange exterior of Weasleys’ Wizard wheezes; where you’d walked away from your first love, all those years later however not so long ago that the sight of his legacy, as vibrant and joy inducing as it always had been, didn’t elicit an uncomfortable pang to spring in your chest. As you progressed past Olivander’s, your lips quirked up ever so slightly as the aging paint of the shop expelled all misconceptions you had about the boy who still haunted all of your “What If?”s, the lightly rusting windows screaming at you as if to remind you that, actually, he hadn’t been your first love. Olivander’s Wand Shop had been the true site of your first love and you’d found that first taste of true, pure, untainted love in the form of your phoenix feather core, thirteen inch, English oak wand.

A wistful giggle left your lips, your feet unmoving, rain lashing down aggressively and sliding off the edges of your umbrella, creating streams of water that fell around you but never got close enough to you to so much as dampen your outfit. Losing yourself in the joy of recalling how happy you’d been upon being chosen by your fateful wand, you failed to notice the familiar frame who had made his way to the doorway of the shop. The creaking of the old door pulled you from your thoughts, a dazzlingly grin broke out on your face as Mr. Olivander himself leant against his propped open door, keeping himself dry inside the comfort of his warm shop.

A grin similar to yours adorned his lips as he called out rather loudly over the rain, “I do recall that smile getting you out of quite a bit of trouble, back in your Hogwarts days,” your smile only widened at his recollection.

“To this day it’s the secret to my success,” you beamed jokingly as Olivander shook his head and released a low chuckle. He had no doubt that you’d be going places, ever since the first moment he’d clapped eyes on you he knew you were destined for success, of course, it was also no wonder that bewitching smile of yours had helped you get there. Like your wand; you chose your company carefully, held nothing but passion for the things you craved, were fiercely determined and surprisingly flexible without breaking your morals.

“I also recall thinking you’d grow up to become one of the brightest witches this country had ever seen. It seems as though you proved me right, dear girl,” he spoke with such reverence that you almost wished to cower away from his gaze, however, you held your confident stance and let your smile melt into an adoring grin once more.

“Don’t act as though you had nothing to do with it, sir,” your voice carried through the wall of worsening rain between yourself and the older wizard, “If it hadn’t been for your encouragement during the war, I think I’d have simply given up in the cellar of Malfoy Manor,” it was a dark time, of course it was, it had been a war after all. You supposed, the love you held for your coveted wand extended to the man who had supplied it to you in the first place; Mr. Olivander, he was more than just the slightly daft wand shop owner, he had been- for longer than you cared to remember- your cellmate, the man who had slid you his rations from across the dungeon when you’d faded to nothing but skin on bones, the one who encouraged you to pursue your dreams of becoming a journalist with the hopes of shining light on issues far more important than the ones covered by that roach Rita Skeeter. He was a lot of things, but above all else, he was your friend.

“Now, now dear,” he chastised teasingly, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes as lively now as it had been on the day he was born, and, every day since, “You better be getting to Gringotts. Lots of galleons and sickles to collect I’m sure. Being the head of the Daily Prophet surely keeps those money bags heavy, eh?”

Your laugh echoed through the street one again, your lips which were painted black, supplied him with the very best smile you could possibly muster. “I suppose I should get going. Look after yourself.” Olivander shot you a wink before retreating back into his shop.

A familiar lamp caught your attention, the ghosts of your past passions rising as brutally as the rain fell. You could remember it, clear as day.

His laughter mingled with yours, the hearty belly laughs bellowing through the darkened street as the pair of you stumbled out of The Leaky Cauldron in the early hours of the morning, systems altered by the copious amounts of fire whiskey you’d managed to consume. His hand held yours in a tight grasp, he swung your interconnected arms childishly.

One second you’d been walking and the next he was twirling you around beneath the spotlight of the flickering post above you. Drunkenly, you’d spun your little heart out, spurred on by his slightly slurred, yet somehow sweet, singing. He admired you as you shimmied ahead of him, completely free, fresh out of school and not yet weighed down by the darkness that loomed in the distance. When your eyes caught his you shot him a smile, he knew it well, it was the smile, it shun like sequins when they caught light and he knew it was worth more than all of the gold in Gringotts. You beckoned him over to you with a finger, taking his hand when he got close enough you spun him around and laughed weightlessly.

The feeling of his hands gripping your waist would be imprinted on your skin for as long as you lived, you’d thought, charmed by the look in his brown eyes when you internally swore that you would’ve loved him for a lifetime.

What you didn’t know, as you shook off the phantom hands on your waist, was that he’d seen your eyes that night and despite his heavily intoxicated state, he noted your devotion and even now, when he’d lay awake and think of you; it was that look and that sequinned smile that haunted him. Just as the streets of Diagon Alley haunted you.

Thinking of the sequence of events that led you to walking away from the person you’d honestly believed to be your once in a lifetime, perhaps even your once in twenty lifetimes, or infinite lifetimes, did nothing but torment your already scarred heart. He was always hard to pin down, how could he not be? With a face like his and the world wrapped around his finger, he knew he didn’t have to settle for only one of each thing.

Chasing two girls excited him, at the time. All of the secret keeping, high stakes secret meet ups, illicit affairs and sensual politics had kept him energised. Until the novelty wore off and he was left with nothing but a side-piece whose favourite colour he hadn’t bothered to learn. But he’d known yours, he knew everything about you, he still did. He knew you, he remembered how you’d stared at him, eyes heavy with betrayal and filled to the brim with tears the day you’d confronted him, your bags already packed as you made it clear that; yes, you love him, but no, he couldn’t fix this. No matter how hard he’d fought to change the ending to your fairytale-esq love story, you’d slipped through his fingers like water.

Various knick knacks that had once been yours still lived in his flat, above the shop you’d encouraged him to open, back in school. For weeks, your scent lingered like a tattoo kiss on his skin, his clothes, his bedsheets, his everything as a constant reminder that he’d forced you away. He’d practically paid for your ticket for the last train out of London that day. He told himself that he was only seventeen; what on Earth did he truly know about love? And again he reasoned; he knew you.

Months before the war he swore time and time again that he’d seen your face amongst the busy, condensed crowds of Diagon Alley. On countless occasions he found himself chasing down strangers like a madman, hoping for nothing more than to catch even a glimpse of the woman who made his heart smile as beautifully as she herself did.

Chin tilted upwards as you passed his renowned joke shop, you walked with a sense of importance willing your feet not to stop, but you couldn’t deny the urge you had to check up on him.

The last time you’d seen him, the world around you had been in complete chaos. You’d only just been saved from the months of endless torture you were forced to endure. Nothing like now, you’d been frail and weak and hollow. But still, you’d saved his life. Without a word you’d saved him from being crushed, as if he had been just another person to save, as if he hadn’t shared the most intimate of moments with you, before rushing back off, back into the fray until the battle had been won. That was the last time he’d seen you in the flesh and he ached to see you again- so he could thank you, so he could tell you that he was grateful to be alive but his life wouldn’t be worth half as much if he never got to hold you in his arms again.

The rain smashed unyieldingly against the windows of the shop as he worked on the tills, the shop was unusually empty, nobody willing to do any sort of shopping on a day so miserable. With a bored sigh, he stared out the large window before him, only one woman walked the street, an umbrella struggling to fight off the rain. The raindrops that accumulated on the window blurred his view of the lady’s face but there was no amount of rain in the world that could hide your signature strut of defiance from him.

Quickly he scampered out from behind the counter, “George! Watch the counter!” He screeched, bombing it out the front door while George released a tired sigh, hoping his twin wasn’t regressing back to his chasing strangers phase.

As soon as he’d entered the open air, he was completely soaked to the bone. Your heels clacking like the countdown on a ticking time bomb as Fred stood frozen as few meters behind you. His hair sopping wet, his shirt sticking to his body and his face completely desperate as he called your name.

His heart was beating so aggressively that he was positive you could hear it from up the street. You’d stopped in your tracks upon hearing his voice, your stomach erupting with butterflies while simultaneously dropping in anticipation when you turned to face him.

“You’re here,” he stated dumbly, swallowing the lump in his throat as he took you in. As beautiful as you’d always been, he carefully inched towards you, you stayed rooted in your spot but let him advance on you. The phantom feeling of his strong hands on your waist clouded your judgment and made you long to have him come back to you.

You nodded your head, “I’m here.”

Fred nodded too, exhaling a deep breath now that he was sure he wasn’t imagining your presence as he had countless times before. Before either of you knew it, you were standing within arms length of each other, however, far too unsure to touch. The rain was roaring and Fred began to blink rapidly, the water hitting his eyes ruthlessly before you took a single step forward and saved him from the onslaught of droplets. You were close now, so close Fred could smell your perfume and see every detail of your face. The handle of your spacey umbrella rested in between the both of you, acting like a barrier so he wouldn’t tug you against his shaking form and hug the daylights out of you.

“You never let me say thank you,” he started, tears very quickly forming to mix with the raindrops that slid down his freckled face. “At the battle. If you hadn't been there, Y/n, I would’ve died.”

“Don’t say that,” you begged, you’d mulled the scenario of “what if I’d been too late?” over in your mind, more times than you were willing to admit, and the image of Fred cold and dead, despite how terribly he’d hurt you, made your gut wrench so violently that you thought you might be sick. “I was there. That’s all that matters.”

His brows furrowed and suddenly the hands on your waist weren’t that of a past ghost anymore, they were his; very real and in the moment. “Why didn’t you stay? After you saved me you just ran off, I couldn’t find you after it was over-“ his voice was so vulnerable, it cracked and hitched and you forced yourself to cut him off, your umbrella shaking in your hand.

“Because I didn’t want you to see me like that- the way I was after Harry got the others and I out of Malfoy’s,” you told him honestly, biting back tears as you offered him more elaboration while he shook his head in a frantic sort of disbelief, “I was weak and skeletal, I couldn’t face you. Not when I saw the way you looked at me.”

“I looked at you the same!” He exclaimed and you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Exactly, Fred! I was vulnerable and damaged beyond belief and even after everything- every screaming match, or slammed door or horrible words that we wish we could take back you still looked at me like I was your favourite thing!” You rambled, chest heaving painfully as you tried, uselessly, to keep your building tears at bay. Fred didn’t waste a second before he was pulling the umbrella from you and tossing the thing, that had become more of a hindrance than a help, away from you before he cupped your cheeks urgently.

Rain enveloped the both of you and Fred knew he shouldn’t have been thinking it, but merlin, you seemed to glow in the rain and he acknowledged the fact he’d been aware of all along; you were truly an angel.

“Because you were! You are,” his voice was dripping with honest desperation, “I might not have known anything else back then but I knew I missed you, I knew that hurting you would be the worst thing I ever did and when I saw you that day I knew I still loved you and my life wasn’t worth living if it wasn’t spent with you!” You were at a loss for words at his shouted, emotionally charged confession. His eyes searched yours for the look that haunted him, the promise to love him forever that was hidden beneath your irises and after the next words slipped from his lips, he thought that maybe he’d uncovered it.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make things up to you. You’re quite literally the only reason my heart is beating and I’d sooner actually die than let you go one more second thinking that you aren’t the greatest thing that has ever happened to me in my stupid, idiotic life.”

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

YEEHAW IT’S MIDNIGHT WHICH MEANS IT’S AUGUST 1ST WHICH MEANS INK DEMONTH SO I CAN FINALLY POST THIS NOW:

1. Pride

Diversity win! There is not a single cishet in the hivemind of ink creatures (To their knowledge) that you slaughter on a daily basis to make yourself beautiful! AKA: Possum has a fuck ton of LBGT+ headcanons regarding the BATIM cast and is happy to use this DeMonth prompt to indulge them. (Set before the loop starts, but after Buddy Boris meets/befriends the lost ones.)

Malice flicked through the channels of her cameras, trying to find more prey in her territory, and stopped when she saw a gathering of the lost and the searching (and exactly one Boris, the most perfect one she had ever seen.) in the Heavenly toy’s lobby, their prophet was brazenly sitting on the side of the waterfall as if he did not fear the ink when he should have.

Her ears steamed with anger as she saw that group, it was far too large for her to deal with on her own and too far away from the Projectionist’s grounds for her to manage to lure him to them. But on the bright side, she could learn some important information from them, after all, with how casually the prophet was sitting and gesturing and how the other freaks in the crowd were responding, this was clearly not one of his normal sermons.

(“I still find it rather funny that almost none of us are straight and that the few straight ones among us are trans, it’s like all this time we thought we were sheep hiding away in wolves’ clothing among wolves, unaware that the “wolves” were simply other sheep in hiding as well!”)

[Funnily enough, I’d rather be a sheep than a wolf, I think it makes more sense for me to be an animal that’s helpful to others but also easily scared.] The Boris wrote on a typewriter. [Or at least, I wish I had some kind of input on what I am, but I doubt I’d make myself an animal…]

(“Speaking of which...”) The lost one next to the wolf whispered in his ear as she looked over his typing. (“How are you holding up, Buddy?”)

Instead of typing, the wolf drew himself shrugging and put a bunch of question marks around him, then stuck the drawn-on paper in his typewriter and added to it.

[It’s hard to think most of the time, Boris always seems stronger when I’m alone, but I know the Ink demon will find us if I stay with you, this hunger is driving me crazy, and I just wanna go home. But on the bright side, I don’t have to deal with periods, chest pain from binding, or people condescendingly calling me ‘Miss Lewek’ anymore.]

She turned on the sound in that room, watching them like one would watch a Tv drama, but what she heard caught her off guard.

“So as long as we’re being honest about ourselves with each other…” The lost one stood up and pointed accusingly at Sammy. “Were you and Joey and a thing all along before the machine came into the picture!?”

If she was drinking water, she would’ve spat it right back out. Sammy, with Joey?! In the latter’s dreams, maybe! Even a few of the other lost ones looked shocked at the question, the Boris even gasped loud enough for it to be audible.

“Technically yes, but not by choice, mind you.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

What the fuck indeed random lost one. The angel wished that she didn’t hear that, but now that she couldn’t unsee it, at least it made a little bit of sense in hindsight. After all, in her eyes, they were awful enough to deserve each other.

“...Why?”

“It’s just, well... somebody had to keep his eyes from wandering to the lambs- err- younger, more naive, less experienced employees, not children (to my knowledge). And at the time, I really thought that he did at least care about me beyond our work relationships, at least a little bit…  But from what I’ve seen, I believe the only things he had ever truly loved were himself, and the idealized versions he had made of other people. His ‘dream versions’ of them, if you will.”

“And this whole time, I thought he was running off with Susie with all those lunch dates! Or where the three of you all… yaknow, *together* together?”

 “Not knowingly… However I wouldn’t put it past Joey to cheat on people. As for Susie... I did like her, maybe even love her in a way, but I doubt I could ever love her in the way she wanted me to love her, and-or love her carnally. I don’t even think I could fake it like I could for Joey, she was never signing my checks and wasn’t holding that over my head so I’d be too disgusted to even try.”

Malice was almost about to march down there herself and push him into the ink, but she knew this troupe all too well, and knew that sometimes this place worked on story logic, he’s now going to say something that alters the context of that statement enough to not justify her going over there and slam dunking him into the ink.

“Now that I think of it, I don’t think that I’ve ever loved… anyone in that sense. I can’t think of a single person or situation where the idea of doing that is anything other than gross at best. In fact, there was someone who was close to me a long time ago, someone who, while I have long forgotten now, would perhaps even be what one could consider a soulmate. Even then, the mere thought of doing that with them still makes me queasy…” The prophet sighed. “I suppose I am simply meant to remain alone in religious celibacy. A relationship of that kind would interfere too much with my worship anyway.”

"Ahh fahr foehck's sake... I can't believe dat it's dis foehckin stupid..." A more lucid, absolute giant of a searcher in the back of the crowd slapped his forehead.

“It?” Malice repeated curiously. “Huh… maybe it and I had more in common than we thought.”

“You're clearly a sex-repoehlsed asexual, you doehmbass! literally everyahne who's ever been in de dark poehddles at de same time as you figured dis ooeht befahre you ded!” He shouted through cupped hands. “celibate people are people who WANT sex, boeht dahn't poehrsue it fahr variooehs reasahns, dey ARE NAHT people who are desgoehsted wit sex to de point where dey legitimately throw oehp and feel 'ahrreble after doin de nahrmal vanella stoehff! Stahp foehckin foehckin people when you're clearly naht cahmfortable wit it, and you and future partner..s? 'll be 'appier wit yooehr rahmantic poehrsuits!”

The searcher, upon realizing that he had furiously sworn at the Prophet, their leader, the one who does not fear anything within the studio, not even the deepest depths of the dark puddles, and most terrifyingly of all; the former music director, he slinked into a puddle within the crowd in fear of being the target of reawakened ancient wrath. Everybody else looked back and forth to the prophet and back at the searcher who spoke out as they remained in stunned silence, even their eavesdropper was worried for his fate, even if in her case she feared how the show would end rather than his outcome. Surprisingly, and luckily for him, the Prophet broke the tense silence by laughing in that caught-off-guard tone of it.

“While you were rather… crude about it, what you’ve said does make a lot more sense then Joey being so bad at sex that he turned me away from men altogether, even if it is funny to assume that he was.”

“A-aye… and I can't believe dat you wrahte an entire foehckin sahng abooeht it! 'ow ded you naht get fired fahr dat?!”

“Good question, I wish I could remember the answer…”

[Maybe you had blackmail on Drew?] The Boris typed out and handed to Sammy.

“Yeah, maybe because you used to be so close to him, you saw skeletons that Joey would want to keep in the closet” His lost-one friend added.

“Like HIMSELF!” A voice from the back added, making the others in the room burst into laughter.

With the tension in the room gone, the group just went back to talking about either journeys they took to become comfortable with themselves, or the various past relationships that they had, or wished they had or in some peoples’ cases, all three.

Malice continued to watch them bitterly. It was as if they had either forgotten what the outside world was like to people like them or they simply didn’t care, and she wasn’t thinking about the ink that made up their bodies. Part of her envied how freely they had talked about themselves and each other, part of her felt like she had been smacked across the face, and a third part of her felt lonely. All of them seemed so happy telling their stories and building each other up, and here she was hiding away with her own story that she had wished to bury.

However, there was no iron clad law stating that she couldn’t tell them her own story. In fact, maybe if she came out of her own cage, made Sammy understand that big part of why voicing Alice was so important to her, made sure that it understood that as the very first explicitly female character she voiced, that Alice Angel was more than a beloved character to her, that she was a part of her, the biggest symbol of her own femininity, then maybe it would recognize the error of its ways. Maybe it would see how devastating it would be to be shunted aside without notice in favor of someone newer, prettier, ‘more feminine’...

She shut off the camera and thought it over, and she made up her mind. While she still didn’t want to share her story with everyone, Sammy needed to know it. Whether the Prophet liked it or not, she was going to pay it a visit.

[pastelsandpining]

Song: "The Panic In Me" by Elton John

Pairing: post-calamity zelink

Congrats on 200!! You deserve more you lovely goddess!!

here you go! a serving of angsty fluff

The Panic in Me

words: 2349

warnings: death mention, panic attacks, nightmares, survivor's guilt if you squint

Masterlist | Song Fics

------

In a perfect world, they could leave their past behind them. They could move on with their lives, never once interrupted by the ghosts of an era that played out so long ago, neither of them should be alive to remember it. But this was not a perfect world, and too often, memories of the past taunted and pulled them so taught, it was hard to believe they hadn’t broken yet. Link did not know if it was easier to have a full memory, or if he was the lucky one out of the pair. Most of the time, he just felt lost. Where something should be, there was a blurry and vague image that made no sense to him. Gaping holes in the memory of his past life lead to many sleepless nights, and this was just another one of them.

In that life that was lost to the hands of time, he’d been a knight in service of the princess. A hero, destined to bring about the Calamity. That’s the kind way to put it, he thought. Harbinger of doom was a more fitting term, even a century later when it was done and over. It was a cruel trick that, by the time he was able to sink the sacred blade into the grotesque body of the beast, he could not remember much about those he was fighting for.

There was a collection of memories, sure. A few flickers of a face here, a voice there, a group of skilled warriors that’d come together for the sake of Hyrule--and what good did skill do them in the end? Remembering meant nothing when they weren’t around to remind him of who they were. They felt too far away for him to have any sort of connection to them, and it hurt. He felt… traitorous.

“Link?”

The hero lifted his head, tearing his gaze from the water flowing quietly beneath the bridge, and turned to look at the fallen princess he’d rescued a handful of weeks ago. She was creeping towards him from the house, hugging her arms. It was too late in the night, or early in the morning, for her to be awake. He pulled his legs from over the water and stood up to meet her, the wood cold beneath his bare feet. It reminded him that the weather was growing colder, and she must be freezing. He removed the cloak from around his shoulders and draped it around hers instead, but she caught his hands before he could withdraw.

“Are you alright?” she asked. Three simple words and the answer was anything but. He didn’t think there was a set of words he could string together that would make sense of his thoughts.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he answered instead, giving her hands a gentle squeeze in assurance that he was fine. In moments like these, he wondered if time was a blessing. A century ago, he’d have never dared to touch her in such a casual, insignificant way.

“How long have you been out here?” she asked. It was unnatural, surely enough to be a crime, how her eyes could glow even in the darkest hours of night--even when she was tired beyond belief. He thought briefly of saying not long, but he didn’t want to lie to her.

“I don’t know,” he decided instead. It was an alarmingly honest answer. He couldn’t keep track of time when he was in his head, thinking too much about things he could do nothing about.

“Do you want to come back inside?” she offered--an implication that they shared the house on the cliffside. He supposed, in a way, they did.

“It’s cold,” he answered with a nod towards the building. She’d come out barefoot as well, and he didn’t want her getting sick when she was just starting to regain her health. “Come on.”

The house was not much warmer than the air outside, but at least there was no breeze to sink the chill further into them. Zelda discarded the cloak and Link shuddered as he fetched a spare blanket from storage. He offered it to her, then wasn't entirely sure how it came to be wrapped around both of them.

“Link,” she tried again, fishing for his hand as she started towards the stairs. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

He thought about nodding, assuring her he was fine and telling her to go back to sleep, but she was too smart for that. Maybe it was a gift she had, to know when he wasn’t okay, or maybe she just knew him that well even decades later.

“I was thinking,” he admitted at last, taking a seat on the bed when she pulled him down beside her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, holding his hand between both of hers, stroking it gently with her thumb. Link never realized how fleeting physical touch was, or how badly he craved it, until he wrapped her in a hug the very day she returned. Maybe it was selfish, how he didn’t want to let her go. Some small part of him still thought that if he did, she would dissolve right in front of him the same way everyone else from his past had.

“I died,” he said simply. “Didn’t I?”

It struck a chord with her too, because she tensed and averted her gaze. He was sure it wasn’t a pleasant memory for her. He’d gotten the best of it, after all--the only thing he could see or feel was her.

“Yes,” she replied quietly. It was no louder than a whisper, but it was deafening. There was no new knowledge to be learned, but hearing the confirmation from other people was so much worse than just knowing it himself.

It was panic that filled him, thinking back on it. Panic that it wasn’t actually over at all, and that he’d find himself waking up alone with no one to touch all over again. He couldn’t speak the words aloud, so he simply sat there, letting Zelda lay him in her lap. Her hands in his hair, her quiet humming, carried him through the staggered breathing and flashes of a burning world. By the time he came around again, dawn was breaking over the horizon and he didn’t have the energy to move. It was a miracle Zelda’s fingers hadn’t put him to sleep already.

“You’re here,” she whispered, far closer to his ear than he remembered her being. It made him shiver. “We’re here. I won’t let you be alone.”

No, she wouldn’t, because she was too good for that. She was too good to have suffered the way she did. Where he was responsible for bloodshed, she was devoted and loyal. Link still couldn’t understand why the Goddess and her powers ignored her for so long.

“Zelda,” he said in return, lifting his gaze to her at last. It was all that could be said.

He didn’t remember being moved to the pillows, but her head was next to his now and he was certain their legs were tangled together under the sheets. He was holding onto her nightshirt far too tightly, so he uncurled his fingers to take her hands instead.

“Link,” she replied, giving his hands a squeeze, and the ridiculousness of the idea that he couldn’t even form a thank you caused him to laugh. It started weak and hardly more than a chuckle, but Zelda giggled softly beside him, and it grew until he was gasping for breath.

He wasn’t entirely sure what was so funny. Maybe nothing was, and his laughter was simply a result of the unbridled joy she brought him. He would never truly know the answer to that question.

~~~

Zelda did not go without her fair share of torment. Nightmares were common, but her waking up with a blood curdling screaming in the middle of the day was not. She didn’t remember falling asleep. Her hands grasped at something, anything, but all she found was the now crumpled pages of her journal and the wooden desk that bestowed upon her hands a new splinter. She could feel her heart slamming against the inside of her ribs, trying to break free from the prison its sole job was to keep alive. She just barely registered the words coming from her mouth: “no, no, no.”

The door flew open. Footsteps pounded up the wooden stairs and she flinched when he entered her periferal.

“Zelda?” he asked as he knelt by her side. She slowly looked his way, her entire body trembling, and she wanted to cry.

“Link,” she whispered back, broken and watery. “Gods, I-”

“What happened?” he demanded, taking one of her hands. She winced. It was the hand with the splinter. He flipped it to her palm. She didn’t know how he could be so precise and smooth, but the intrusive piece of wood was gone before she could think of digging it out herself.

“I had a dream,” she explained, “the night before… before the Calamity. It made no sense but it felt… foreboding, like a promise—and I think I just had another.”

“Okay,” Link answered with a nod. She watched him shift, kneel in a more comfortable position--a sign he wasn’t going anywhere until she finished speaking. Zelda gripped his hands tighter. She recalled the whispered cries for help, the mangled corpse with glowing, familiar eyes, the feeling of falling down, down, down with him being the last thing she saw. She was shaking again, on the verge of tears, because she didn’t want to lose him again. They had only just started to learn how to love each other in a way that wasn’t dependent on who they were a century ago. She didn’t think she could do it again.

“It doesn’t feel like just a dream, does it?” he asked. Always so considerate, always so understanding.

“There’s been records of prophetic dreams,” she admitted quietly. She wished that if she didn’t speak it loud enough, then it wouldn’t be real.

“Do you think it’s prophetic?”

“I don’t know.”

She didn’t want it to be. The idea that this might not be over after all was terrifying. But Link gave her hands a gentle squeeze and pulled her forwards until she was on his lap, curled up into his arms where nothing could get to her. He was there, just as he always was. He was there when she visited the supposed grave of her father, and he was there when she took her first pilgrimage to Gerudo Town without the company of Urbosa, and he was there when the expectations of the past on her shoulders felt too heavy for her to keep afoot. What had she done to deserve his good graces?

“It’s okay,” he assured, even though she didn’t feel like it. His fingers came up to thread through her hair and she held onto him a little tighter. There were still the remnants of what it felt like to be falling, and the disgust and trepidation that came after seeing the dried out remains of someone who looked too familiar to be of any comfort.

“What if it’s real?” she asked in a whisper, trying to search his blue eyes for any indication that he was lying.

“There’s no way to know that for sure, but if it is, then I won’t let you face it alone.”

He looked so sincere. There wasn’t the slightest waver behind his eyes, or any uncertainty in his voice. He was so steady, so kind, and she almost believed him. She wanted more than anything to believe him. But she didn’t like the implications of her drop into the dark chasm, or the look on his face when she fell.

“I don’t want to do it again,” she said and lowered her head. “I’m tired. I’m so tired. Haven’t we done enough?”

He didn’t answer. He probably didn’t have anything to say, because the same questions must’ve been running through his mind. He had perished to the hands of the Calamity, and now at the slightest whisper of a return, what were they supposed to do?

“Zelda,” he said softly. She always liked how her name sounded in his voice, with no titles or such attached to it. “Look at me.”

She did. He took her chin in his hand, and she could melt at how gently he touched her. In this new age, outside of the eyes of Hyrule, she’d only seen him this serious on a few occasions.

“Yes?” she managed.

“I won’t let anything happen to you if I can help it.”

But he couldn’t always help it, and expecting it of him wasn’t fair. He was still learning how to deal with that knowledge--accepting that he couldn’t always stop what was to come. Even so, it made her feel better. It filled her with warmth to know he was still so determined to stay by her side.

Zelda managed a small smile, then assured them further with a feathersoft kiss. It wasn’t the first they’d shared, and it wouldn’t be the last, but it was a comfort she indulged in whenever she could. There was no reason to be ashamed of it or want to hide it anymore. All those who might’ve cared were dead, and that, while by no means preferable, was perhaps the best part to come out of a fallen kingdom.

“You calm the panic in me too well,” she commented with a weak chuckle.

“I’m just returning the favor,” he replied with a shrug.

It took a few minutes more for them to untangle themselves and stand from the hardwood floor, but by the time they did, the nightmare that interrupted her nap was nothing more than an uneasy feeling in the back of her mind. She trusted in Link, in the bond that they’d not only repaired but regrew and strengthened from almost nothing, and if something wanted to tear them apart again, well, it would have to go through her.

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH3

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

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

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Chapter 3: Resurrection Overture (III)

Qi Leren stood in front of the door that had once made him beyond salvation.

After the huge stone door, Maria’s sword was held high and the black dragon was crucified. Seven days ago, there was a former friend sitting on the throne that belonged to the Pope, smiling at him.

Now that I think about it, I still feel like I had a nightmare.

Worried that there was some unknown danger inside, Qi Leren removed "Devil Etiquette", changed it to the perception skill "Rain-Day Clothing", put his hand on the stone door, and pushed it gently. The stone door opened almost automatically before his eyes.

Maria and the black dragon were still there, but the metal sword in Maria’s hands had ceased to exist. Qi Leren's eyes fell to the blood on the ground, and the dragged blood seemed to bring back the scene before his death.

He took a step and wanted to go there, but the first step made this dead and broken church glow with incredible changes—

The statue of Maria exuded bright light, and countless cracks spread from its head. Qi Leren stared at this horrible scene and the cracks became more and more dense, spreading from Maria to the immortal body of the black dragon. The two statues with a height of more than ten meters were destroyed in an instant by time, turning into countless fragments and dust that poured down, rushing to the earth like waterfalls!

The entire site of the Vatican collapsed in a frantic tremor.

During this collapse, Qi Leren, who had been knocked down by the shock wave, looked towards the Maria.

Maria's phantom stood there, holding an object that seemed to be a scepter in both hands and coming towards him.

The ground shook so much that Qi Leren couldn't stand up at all, but Maria's phantom came to him as if on flat ground and handed the thing in her hand to him: "Please, bring this to the Prophet, you must give it to him personally."

"Who is the Prophet? Where is he?" Qi Leren asked, confused.

"He is in the judge’s seat of the Twilight Township. If you meet Ning Zhou, don't let Ning Zhou touch this thing and don't let him see it," Maria said.

Qi Leren looked down at what Maria gave him and held out his hand. The name of this item was [Scepter of Hell], which was made of metal, heavy and dangerous. There was a huge groove at the top of the scepter and the gem originally embedded in it had disappeared, leaving only this metal scepter with evil power. This was an extremely powerful and fearful demon item, which can even pollute the power of faith.

"I understand, I will give it to the Prophet." Qi Leren understood that the matter was important, so he put away this scepter and solemnly agreed.

"Thank you." Maria smiled, leaned over Qi Leren, and left a gentle kiss on his forehead.

The gentle kiss was like the blessing of God. Countless golden and silvery spots spread from Maria and she began to become blurred. However, these spots rushed into Qi Leren's body and he suddenly felt himself immersed as if in a hot spring. The warm energy soothed his stiff and tired body, injecting vitality and vigor into him again.

Indulged in this comfortable power, Qi Leren forgot where he was until an angry roar came from above: "How dare you! Maria! Again and again you have... I will not let you go!"

The Witch of Desperation, who found the body of the Devastator destroyed, roared. Storm clouds condensed with thunder and lightning and the terrible demon energy brewed the power of death. Countless bats came at them!

Maria nodded to Qi Leren languidly: "Good boy, go, remember my words."

Saying this, a bright white light rose from Qi Leren's feet, pierced through the dark clouds in the sky, and wrapped around Qi Leren to fly him towards the distant land of dusk.

In this dazzling silvery white light, Qi Leren felt his body float uncontrollably just like in the dream before, rising higher and higher, and the white world was full of magnificent and majestic vitality, solemn and quiet. Wrapped in the holy light, he flew in the sky like a gliding bird, moving forward in a pure white.

Suddenly an ethereal music sounded ahead. Qi Leren woke up from his dreamy state and looked in the direction of the music.

Countless little angels with flowers and musical instruments in their hands flew out of a magnificent gate, joyfully spreading petals and playing graceful music. That gate seemed to be the door to Eden. From the open gate, he could see a garden full of flowers. Angels holding musical instruments were playing the piano and singing songs by the fountain, singing praises to Father God.

A petite young female angel came out of the garden and her feet lightly landed on the clouds, smiling at Qi Leren.

Qi Leren tried to see her face clearly, but she seemed to be a light-year away from him.

"I am the Prophet," she said. "Give it to me."

Qi Leren's eyes were empty and that person's voice seemed to be God's will, which made him want to obey her orders involuntarily.

Give the Scepter of Hell to the Prophet, and she is the Prophet... This was firmly rooted in his mind.

Qi Leren took the Scepter of Hell in his hand without thinking.

[Rain-Day Laundry: At present, the remaining sensing times are 2/3.]

Qi Leren suddenly woke up. How could he believe that this unknown person was the Prophet?! This brainwashing power was simply terrible! He almost handed over this thing!

"Hmm?" The angel on the other side let out a confused hum as the projection of an archangel emerged behind Qi Leren, holding a rapier to cut the heavenly gate.

In a blaze of holy light, the world was silently torn apart and all the dreamy things in front of him disappeared in an instant.

Under the curious gaze of hundreds of millions of human beings and demons, this white holy light that shone in an arc across the sky paused for a moment in a cloud of black mist, then pierced the darkness and continued to fly towards the Village of Dusk on the eastern coast.

In the garden of Dawn.

"An unexpected miss. It’s not enough to use the avatar projection in front of him, I was too hasty," the petite woman sighed.

"You can't stop using the field’s power. After all, it’s the last of the Holy Nun’s power," the man taking a slow sip of wine said lightly.

"But to use ‘Utopia’, it will be weakened after being pierced by that holy light, it’ll do more harm than good. Forget it. Anyway, I already know that thing’s whereabouts, I’ll just ask others to keep it for the time being," the woman said and smiled again. "But that child you like is quite vigilant."

The red wine in the goblet was swirled gently, its thick red color like blood.

"People with secrets will always be more vigilant. I really wonder how many secrets he still hides."

The Village of Dusk on the east coast was shrouded in the afterglow of sunset all year round.

On the long coastline, Chen Baiqi was smoking on the seawall and her sister Sissi was catching crabs. Suddenly, she found a shiny stone. She screamed with surprise and took the stone to Chen Baiqi: "This is beautiful, I want to show it to Xiaozhi!"

Chen Baiqi glanced at the stone, but it was only a rare sea stone. She rubbed her sister's hair: "Okay."

"But I haven't seen Xiaozhi for a long time." Sissi was worried about her little friend. "Is it the Prophet who won't let him out?"

"Maybe," Chen Baiqi replied absently, full of melancholy. "We’ll go home in ten minutes and go to the Undead Island in the afternoon."

Sissi cocked her head and suddenly realized: "Is it Qi Leren’s seventh day?"

Chen Baiqi responded gently and let out a sigh.

The little girl who didn't know her sister's worries kicked the sand under her feet and muttered, "Why did he die?"

"People will always die," Chen Baiqi said lightly.

Sissi felt her sister's heavy heart and took her arm obediently. She was well protected by Chen Baiqi, but that didn't mean she didn't know anything. She had met many of Chen Baiqi's customers. Those young men and women came to her store to buy what they needed. Some of them came very often while others came rarely, but gradually these people disappeared.

Those who had disappeared had never returned again. There would always be new faces coming and disappearing like those people.

Sissi remembered that when she was a little girl, a beautiful little sister always brought her delicious candy which was wrapped in colorful cellophane, and each one was sweet. She loved the candy brought by that little sister. Every time, she had collected these beautiful candy wrappers and put them in a small tin box until she had saved a whole box.

Then one day, when she saw the tin box, she suddenly remembered that she had not seen the little sister for a long time. She asked Chen Baiqi several times, and Chen Baiqi was silent for a long time, saying that she would help her find out.

She happily went back to her room, folded a string of paper cranes with those cellophanes, and prepared to give it to the little sister.

But in the end, she could only give the folded paper cranes to her tombstone.

On the Undead Island, which was just outside the Village of Dusk, the warm sunlight had illuminated her tombstone with her name on it and the days she had lived. There were only two simple lines that summarized a person's short life.

She had felt that she wasn’t very sad, but at the thought that she would never eat that delicious candy again, she had burst into tears.

Later, she learned where to buy this delicious candy that tasted sweet, but it wasn't from that little sister, so she didn't like it anymore.

She thought that, in fact, she didn't like that kind of candy very much, she just missed the little sister.

It was a carefree little girl who taught her the meaning of death for the first time.

"Jiejie*, you seem to have liked him very much?" Sissi asked.

*{E/N: “older sister”}

Chen Baiqi smoked a cigarette and the smoke blew away in the sea breeze: "Because a friend of mine likes him very much."

"How much did you like him?" Siss smiled and asked, "Does jiejie like me so much?"

Chen Baiqi looked at her sister's innocent face, smiled, and kissed her face: "Maybe I liked him more than jiejie likes you."

Sissi gave a "wow": "You must’ve liked him very much."

However, Sissi was a little sad again: "How sad will your friend be now that he’s dead?"

Chen Baiqi could not speak and her hand holding the cigarette was shaking. There was a little bit of sweet pain in the sour despair; even if it was just a bystander like her, she was almost suffocating.

She wouldn't be able to forget for the rest of her life. On that rainy day, Ning Zhou, who had gone to the Holy City with Qi Leren, suddenly returned to the Village of Dusk and knocked on her door. She was puzzled, but was shocked by Ning Zhou's calm dead eyes. Ning Zhou had braved the heavy rain and told her what had happened. Then, despite her dissuasion, he resolutely went to Neverland. He didn't even know whether he could survive the torture of the spiritual enchanment, or if it would leave him sleeping in the cold tundra forever.

Fortunately, Ning Zhou's tombstone had yet to appear on the Undead Island. It seemed that he had successfully arrived at his soul’s former hometown, bid farewell to it, and went to a world full of thorns and sufferings.

Thinking this, she suddenly heard Sissi let out a loud scream. Chen Baiqi raised her head and looked at the sky in astonishment—in the far west, there was a bright light streaking across the sky, magnificent, holy, and unparalleled, and all the places it passed were the projections of heaven. It stopped over the Village of Dusk and turned into a vertical beam of light.

A huge projection of an archangel appeared in the void, behind which countless wings danced slowly in the setting sun, almost covering the sunset. The wings were dying, like a white rain, and the projection of the archangel was getting weaker and weaker. He put his hands on his chest, bowed toward the distance, and disappeared into the golden red sunset.

Sissi was stunned. After being shocked, Chen Baiqi’s mind suddenly raised countless thoughts: Which of the Holy See's field-level masters had come to Dusk? The place of arrival also happened to be in the spot where the Prophet had landed at dusk... No, it should be just residual energy. If it was really a field-level master, they would not reveal such a big movement at all. And the Court’s enchantment has not been alarmed... Who was it?

"Sissi, go home, I'll check it out and I'll be right back," Chen Baiqi said, and inserted a card into her card slot. A projected book turned to a certain page in her hand. A white unicorn appeared beside her and she turned around to mount the horse. The winged unicorn flew in the air to the place where the projection of the archangel had landed.

She arrived at her destination in less than half a minute due to the short distance. On the rolling sea waves of the beach, a confused figure was looking in all directions at a loss. Seeing Chen Baiqi approach, he waved at her in surprise and ran quickly to her.

Chen Baiqi's cigarette butt fell to the ground, and shock and joy were intertwined. She couldn't wait to express her incredible mood with 10,000 swear words: "Shit Qi Leren, aren't you fucking dead?!”

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[electronictimetravelmoose]

Chapter 2, The Dream

Series Masterlist: The Prophet and the Angel

Pairing: Michael x Prophet!Reader

Warnings: none

Wordcount: ~1.2k

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"Sam you can't just leave!" , a young man shouted. He seemed to be around 20 to 22 to you. The man had short dark blond hair and emerald green eyes, he was also quite tall but you couldn’t guess how tall. His face held an expression of anger, sadness and betrayal. He truly looked hurt. There were a few tears rolling down his cheek, but you couldn't tell if it was from the anger or the sadness he must be feeling. "Dean I can't stay any longer and I won't! I hate being a hunter! I want a normal life away from killing monsters and living on the road! I want to go to college and be normal like everybody else and maybe have a family someday!" , the younger man, Sam, shouted. His hair was a bit longer than the other ones and his blue-brownish eyes held, not the same anger as the other ones, but the same amount of hurt in them. They were standing  a few feet away from each other but you could still see that they were about the same height. "Sammy we are brothers, we are family. You can't just leave me and Dad alone! You know that he won't let you go that easy! The heck Sammy I can't lose you too!" Dean's voice slowly began to break just like your heart as you saw more tears on the unknown man.  Sam's gaze went from his bag where he was stuffing his clothes into, over to his brother. He was crying just like his older brother but something on his face told you right then and there that he was still set on leaving. The younger one made a few steps towards Dean and began to speak more softly than before. "Dean you know you will always be my brother and I love you and you won't lose me! I'm just going to college. Look, you can always come visit me there and we can always meet up somewhere and spend some time together, but I can't stay here and you know that. I'm sorry that I am hurting you with this Dean but I made my decision and I won't change it. Please respect that." There was silence between the two brothers and the older one took his gaze from his little brother for a few seconds, needing to think for a while. Dean truly tried to fight back all the tears and swallow the forming lump in his throat. "Dea-" "Okay Sammy. I won't try to hold you back but under a few conditions." , disrupted Dean, his little brother's sentence. The younger one nodded eager and he continued to speak. "You call me twice a week to tell me if you are alright and whenever you need help you call me or send me a text, alright? And you can bet your motherfucking ass that if you don't call I will drive up to your college and kick you in that ass!" The last sentence made Sam laugh up and even Dean smiled at his brother. "I promise, Dean." "Good, now let's start packing the rest of your stuff before Dad comes back. He will be a bigger pain than I am."

You startle from your sleep, breathing heavily as you tried to calm down from what you just witnessed. Who were those two brothers and why did I dream about them? The thoughts about Sam and Dean didn't leave your mind as you lied there, trying to make sense of what you just saw. When your mind slowly started to clear up a bit you finally realized that you weren't lying outside, where you originally passed out, but rather inside of a building on a soft mattress. Your body jolted up and panic rose inside you. Your head spun around the room and it took you a few seconds to recognize it which gave you the chills. It wasn't any room you were in... It was yours...  How am I able to be inside my room when I passed-out outside?! Fear and panic mixed together as you started to stand up from the bed. Someone took me inside! Sure it could have been one of your family members but your brother was spending the night at a friend's place and your mom worked until midnight. The first thing that came to your mind was I need a weapon. The person who took you in could have been nice, but also an insane serial killer who wanted to wait a bit before he kills you.  Suddenly you remembered that your brother kept your dad's old baseball bat in his room right next to his door. You sighed and thought about a way to calm down. In the end a few deep breaths and self-boosting words was all it took to make you calm down enough to leave the safety of your room and go to your brother's across the hall. A few steps through the hall and you stood in front of it, the door creaked as you tried to open it as quietly as possible. Damn it James! ,you thought. If there was a killer in this house who spared you until you woke up so he could torture you, he now knew you were awake and ready to be his next victim. You jinxed your brother for being to damn lazy to oil his fucking door, which he wanted to do for weeks now.  Your hand silently slipped through the small creak of the door and engulfed the handle of the baseball bat. As your hand curled around it your heartbeat increased again. But with the bat in hand you started to feel a little bit more confident in yourself. Now armed and ready you began to search the house. If you die today you die fighting, like the viking you are at heart.  In the end the search through your house revealed nothing. No murderer who wants to kill you, no burglar who had taken advantage of your unconscious state and no monsters. Nothing. You sighed, relieved and concerned. Still the thought of someone taking you from the streets and carrying you home never left. It sends a shiver down your spine. Sure the thought that this person tried to just be nice was there but what if they weren’t? What if they come back? A few weeks have passed now and even thought you wanted to tell your family about the incident you decided against it. You were going through enough as is so telling them some stranger brought you home while you were passed out wouldn't make the situation any better. After what happened you started to feel over time as if someone was watching you. Most of the time you hoped it was just your wild imagination or paranoia finally catching up on you but occasionally you truly thought you saw someone following you from the corner of your eyes and whenever you looked in the direction he was suddenly gone. Whenever that happened you tried to tell yourself that it was nothing. That nobody was following you and you were just slowly but surely going insane of all the stress and nightmares and those damn brothers you saw in your dreams, but was this really just your imagination? Your mind playing some weird and fucked up tricks on you, that weren't fun anymore or... something else?

-----------------------------

Tagging: @satans-bae-and-queen, @hippogreif-joana

[prose-for-hire]

The ghost of romance past

Part one // Part two

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: It was kinda requested but also I needed to write it. Don’t worry, the relationship isn’t in the past, it’s just written from your perspective looking back on the time you and Spike finally get together

Warning: Set in LA, not central to the story. Reader gets injured. Like one swear. Bit of fighting. 

A/N: Had a real blast writing these parts, hope you enjoy the final instalment !! The time jumps are very erratic throughout the three parts, but I’m pretty sure it makes sense (pls tell me if it doesn’t) 💜

The prophetic dream you had about your possible romance with spike was years ago and you were amazed at how different your life was now. You and Spike had found each other through a lot of what Sunnydale, and now LA, had thrown at you. Somehow, you always managed to find each other. You loved him with every fibre of your being and you knew he felt exactly the same. Not just because he told you this constantly.

You were now lying in bed beside Spike in your shared apartment. Spike was lying on his front, his arms hugging the pillow he was lying on. His head comfortably resting in the position. You had woken only moments before and had a hand on the cold skin of his back. You started to rub his back softly – tracing along his pale skin. Hoping he would feel it in his dreams.

His eyes were closed and he was completely still – he didn’t breathe when he was sleeping and it sometimes worried you for a split second before you reminded yourself that he never needed to breath. 

You started to remember the way you had pined longingly for this kind of relationship with Spike. You had been addicted to his love long before you had even received the full extent of it. You had wanted to have all of him. To hold him against you and tell him how much you loved him. You still remember the dull pang of want that coursed through you every time you saw him. In public. In private. In your dreams. You could never escape him, and you never wanted to. You wanted more.

You smiled at the feeling now, but you had ached for him at the time. You continued to watch him as you lay on your side, slowly tracing your hand back along the length of his back. Lost in your thoughts of him. It was always him. 

“You’re staring, love” his voice cutting through the misty nostalgia of how it had been before you had admitted your feelings to each other.

“I’m not! I was waking up and you were in my line of sight”

“Y’know it’s usually the dark and highly attractive monster doin’ the staring” He offered, his voice still slightly raspy from sleep. His eyes were still closed as he spoke, he was still trying to wake up properly. He took your silence as an invitation to continue his own conversation, “Alright, pet, whatever it is that makes you sleep at night”

“I don’t sleep at night. I sleep with you, in the day”

“Oh give over with your accusin’ and your eyebrow raisin’ – you love me” he smouldered. When he opened one eye to check your expression and smirked into the kiss that you landed on his lips. 

“Yeah. I really do” You confirmed when your lips left his. 

After a few more kisses of encouragement, he managed to wake himself up a little. His stomach gurgled and he decided he should get up properly. “Usual, love?” he offered and you grinned and nodded. Spike treated you very well. You never questioned his intent or the way that he cared for you. It was the little things sometimes, like making your favourite hot drink while he warmed his blood and bringing it to you so you could share your warm drinks and talk before you had to think about getting ready and going to help Angel with whatever it was that was going on now.

Your mind cast back once more to the way things had been for you both in Sunnydale, the way you had used to trade insults and occasionally threats. You would never change how things were now. Spike had improved your life in a way that you could only have dreamed.

Spike pulled the sheet before sliding off the bed and started to move towards the door. He didn’t bother to put any clothes on, much to your continued delight since he had become corporeal again and you had moved in together. You had found a cosy apartment with glass that allowed him to feel the sun now you lived in LA. You were staring at his body, one you had enjoyed being able to hold to you. Touch so intimately. Your mind kept casting back to the days and long nights you spent longing for him to be sharing a bed with you. Kissing your lips or just laying beside you. You now woke up to the image you had hung on to so hopelessly.

Spike turned back once he got to the doorway, squinted at you as he couldn’t quite read your look. He just smirked and winked, expecting that you were enjoying the view. Which of course, you were. But before you could focus on enjoying your relationship, your mind was on the past once more.

You blinked and you were back. You knew it as soon as you looked around your old bedroom in Sunnydale. One that had long since gone. Crumbled into nothing with the rest of the town you had once called home. 

You took your jacket, pulled it on and walked straight to the Bronze. You remember this time of your life. You and Spike had still been skirting around your feelings and relied on ‘meeting by chance’ at the Bronze or in cemeteries. You were friends, of sorts, until the next time he upset one of your friends - which you were still half-expecting during this time in your life.

You were now staring into your cup, you had been here for hours. It had been a task shrugging the many unwanted advances throughout the night. Because they weren’t him. None of them could ever be him. He ignited something inside of you. He drew you in and captivated your every thought. Your every emotion. You missed him when you didn’t dream of him and not seeing him here made it worse.

You had desperately hoped to see him there but he never showed. You eventually left, walking yourself home alone. It was dark, but this didn’t phase you. You were used to patrolling with Buffy - making sure she wasn’t out by herself so often. You did worry about her. A chill started to run through your entire body, the hairs starting to raise on your neck. You weren’t alone here. You wrapped your jacket around you tighter, took your stake out and carried on walking. Suddenly you were grabbed from behind, your heartrate sped up. Your adrenaline pumping. Someone was hauling you backwards towards an alleyway. Someone was pressing their hand over your mouth to try and stop your scream. But you didn’t scream. You bit down. Hard.

“Ow! Bloody hell! That’s a damned cheek – biting the vamp that can’t bite. Bloody inconsiderate b-” he started, trying to lower his voice as he remembered why he had done it in the first place. He gestured for you to move into the alley a little more, concealing both of you from any onlookers. 

“You grabbed me like some kind of serial killer!” You hissed back, “What was I supposed to do just wait for you to kill me?!” raising your voice at the end. He moved in to cover your mouth again but you raised your eyebrows and pointed a warning that he better not step towards you and do that again. He surrendered, rolled his eyes before launching into an explanation.

“Just – there’s something down there and I wanted to make sure you weren’t walkin’ in unawares”

“And you wanted someone to hide behind while I investigate?” You teased. He rolled his eyes and looked as if he wanted to say something but instead just gestured for you to follow him towards the fight. You both stopped abruptly as you arrived on the scene of the chaos.

“See?” He asked, glancing to you and then having to do a double take when he realised you hadn’t even noticed the threat yet. You had only been looking at him. You managed to pry your eyes away for a moment to see that it was some kind of giant (not the big, friendly kind either). At least double your height and width. Maybe triple. His skin was grey and almost translucent. You could smell his terrible breath from where you were stood and he was now hollering at the top of his lungs. He had a large club that he was already swinging around in anticipation of a fight.

You and Spike both looked at each other and nodded. You would have to handle this before he started to rampage towards the Bronze - which appeared to be where he was heading. You fought hard, half hoping that Buffy might swing by and finish it off. But alas, she was dealing with her own vampire problem on the other side of Sunnydale. You hated it when there was more than one monster of the week, your group got stretched a little thin.

You were trying to help in your limited-to-human-strength way. You got some punches in and even a hard stare that you swore made the giant shiver. Or maybe quiver with range. He wasn’t much of a talker, so you weren’t sure which.

Spike immediately and continuously not only defended himself but you as well. He tried to keep the Giant’s attention on him by hurling insults as well as punches. He had put himself in harms way for you.

“Spike!” You screamed, “Behind you! Duck!” you pointed as Spike had been distracted by the giant lunging towards you but swinging his club at Spike from behind. He heard you, acting on your words. Trusting you on instinct.

Spike then swung at the beast but it threw him into you. Knocking you both down like skittles. Spike had been thrown so forcefully into you that you hadn’t had time to react. You had been sent crashing to the ground with your arm twisting wrong and connecting to the hard tarmac with an audible cracking sound. You hissed in pain, twisting out of the uncomfortable position but not being able to continue the fight. 

This fuelled Spike’s anger, sending him into a frenzy. You sat on the floor, watching as Spike managed to hit the giant in the soft part of his skull on the back of his head - leaving him crashing to the ground. Rather than checking he had won - he turned straight back to you and ran towards you. he crouched beside you, his worry painted across his face.

 “Shit, love. I’m so sorry – I didn’t- are you-?” Everything was running through his head at lightning speed. If he had just punched here or ducked there before spinning into that kick – maybe this wouldn’t have happened. He was already blaming himself and replaying the sickening crunch over in his mind until it almost knocked him sick. You hissed as you tried to move your hand and his eyes widened, “Is it broken? Is there a-anything that I can do?”

“Can you take me to the hospital?” He nodded and moved to support you. He then started to pick you up without making a sound. You opened your mouth – starting to say that you had hurt your wrist and that you could still walk. But you decided to keep your mouth shut. He hoisted you up so that you were sideways. One arm wrapped around your back and the other supporting your thighs. He had to balance you himself as you were cradling your arm rather than holding onto him.

You closed your eyes, trying to block out the pain and only focus on this moment. His strong hold was so comforting. You felt so safe in his presence. You inhaled, your nose filled with that familiar scent. It caressed you, comforted you. It reminded you of the dream. The safety and love you ached for. You wanted him close like this all of the time. You nestled into his chest, closing your eyes. You didn’t know if you would get a chance to feel this without being asleep again. 

He closed his eyes briefly, savouring having you so close. Every so often he looked down at you as if he were enamoured by your very presence, this mingling with his growing concern for your arm. It physically hurt that he couldn’t offer you more comfort that he was currently giving you. He knew he didn’t need to carry you - he just wanted the excuse to hold you against him.

You had a fractured wrist and he was surprisingly sympathetic - even threatened a few doctors to ensure you had the best care. He walked you back home after the emergency room, shoving as many blood bags into his inside pocket as would fit. You didn’t once acknowledge how much either of you appreciated the others help. You were both concerned if you said it aloud that the other would insist it wasn’t even intentional. That they didn’t care. So you clung to the hope that it was out of concern.

You both kept glancing at the other Spike was the first to speak. He couldn’t stand it – the silence. The constant not knowing where he stood. He had to say something, a thought he had been having the entire walk.

“You… glow” He said, ever so softly. You weren’t sure your ears had heard correctly so you stopped walking, staring at him in confusion, “Uh, under the moonlight. You glow” He elaborated as your expression softened. You didn’t know what to say. Didn’t want to comment in case you had dreamt it. Wished too hard and started to hear things. You smiled softly instead and that was all he needed. He was adamant that he was going to prove to you he could be boyfriend material. Little did he know you already selected the fabric in his exact make and size. Willing the material to fit. And it would, like a glove.

He walked up to your apartment block with you, starting to light up. He would watch until he saw your light on and feel satisfied that you were safe. No zombie janitors or killer neighbours waiting on the stairwell. You turned, still cradling your arm as you opened your mouth to start to thank him, but he spoke first, “You gonna be okay?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah. But I’d probably feel better with a bit of company…” You hinted as his face lit up. He had been longing for something like this, something to tell him that his feelings weren’t one-sided. That these constant dreams weren’t filling his head with a reality that would never be there. He had craved for you in all hours of the day and night. Losing sleep over how good you felt. How love could be and how much he needed it to be with you. Just you. “Would you like to come in?”

He nodded. Looking around to check it wasn’t some kind of trap with your younger friends waiting to point at laugh at him for agreeing. there appeared to be no Scoobies in sight so he shrugged, throwing his cigarette and following you up into your apartment block. He kept you company until it was time for him to leave before the sun rose. He looked as if he didn’t want to go, but he had to. He opened his mouth to say something, anything but the words wouldn’t come.

That night your dreams had been so vivid. Kissing and whispering sweet nothings to each other. The gentle caress expressing feelings you longed to say out loud. In your waking moments. But you were scared. Both of you were terrified that if anything was said it would ruin the strange friendship you had created. To have the other in your life even fleetingly was better than not having them there at all through the heart breaking rejection that neither of you would ever recover from.

Unbeknownst to you both, you had shared this dream. Shared the bittersweet embrace as if it were the closest you would ever come to expressing your love for the other. Shared the affirmations of love. The crumbling disappointment once you both woke up and realised that once again, you were faced with a much harsher reality.

Your mind then forwarded to the moment everything was cemented in your mind. A moment so imprinted into your mind you needn’t relive it this way. You could retell it by heart.

You were in your kitchen, with Spike standing opposite you by counter. He smiled at you and you smiled back over your shoulder as you grabbed some things from your fridge. You hadn’t stopped thinking about the look he had given you when you invited him in. The way he had been so unassuming, so amazed that you would invite him in. Hadn’t expected it. His face brightened, although not changing any of the concern he had.

He had been visiting to check on you almost every evening after dark – never asking to come in, but always smirking and sauntering in as if he had used some vampire hustle to get himself an invite. When all he had done was be kind (and be the man of your dreams. Literally).

You spent a lot of time alone together. Catching his long, penetrating gaze. The ache never dulling now, not even when you were in each other’s company. You wanted to press your lips against his like in your dream. You wanted to feel his arms wrap around you they way they had that night. You wanted to say something, but the words had never surfaced. 

He had insisted on doing things for you. Opening doors for you. Making you warm drinks. Finding you the best shows to watch together on tv. He was slowly proving to you in his eyes that he could be trusted. That he could even play nice with the Scoobies if you wanted him to.

You were still in your kitchen, your wrist had finally healed but Spike was still coming around and spending almost every evening with you regularly. You had been eagerly awaiting his arrival tonight. he no longer asked, just came in - he had a key now so why should he have to knock? You had taken two bottles of water out of your fridge and set them on the counter. You were going to take them with you on patrol. He didn’t necessarily need one, but that’s another thing he liked about you - you always had the courtesy to offer. So he always said yes.

Both reached for the same bottle of water at the same time. Your fingers brushed against each other. A spark. A sizzling thrum of electricity surging through you both. And you became overcome with it. You were his fully and unconditionally. And something in his eye told you he was thinking the same thing.

Time stopped. Both in the dream and waking world, that minute leading up to your first kiss would be owned by you forever. It was yours and Spike’s to claim. You had leaned in, your eyes confirming that this was all you wanted. All you ever wanted. Your intentions reflecting in his own eyes. He had never been so sure of anything in all of the decades he had been around. All he had ever wanted to surrender to was you. 

Your lips met and everything connected into place. The kiss was the same you had experienced in the dream but magnified by a hundred. It wasn’t tentative or timid. It was an explosion. It had been building up for so long. A rollercoaster finally reaching its peak. The passion that had been threatening to spill during every interaction now igniting the room. 

“I love you, y/n. I love you so much” He couldn’t help himself. He was drunk on you. He You pulled him closer, your lips replying with every movement. Neither of you had ever been more sure of anything and this was expressed as he pressed you against your kitchen counter. You were tongues and teeth. Desperate clinging to skin and hair. Removing clothes and hushed whispers. You began to explore each other’s bodies in what was now a well-travelled but ultimately exciting adventure every time.

You shook yourself out of your memories as Spike handed you the steaming mug. It was made exactly the way you liked it. You hugged your hands around it, clinging to the warmth as he stared at you a little to long. He sensed there was something on your mind. He waited, knowing you would talk about it eventually as he sat back, resting against the headboard and taking a large gulp of his blood. He pulled a face after he swallowed, he had gone overboard on the burbaweed again and it tasted a little too spicy. He then shrugged and took another gulp. No use wasting good blood. You moved up, bringing the covers up over you with one hand and balancing your mug as you moved to lean into Spike’s side.

“Do you remember the first time we kissed?”

“’Course. Like a dream” he smiled, not revealing how true this really was. Neither of you had spoke about the intense and very real feeling dreams you had both experienced long since you had professed your feelings.

“It was a dream. I felt it before it happened” You said, frowning a little in thought. He had always found this expression cute on you, but this revelation meant it passed without comment.

“You- did you have the dreams too?” He asked, setting his cup down and turning to you. You nodded and he moved to wrap his arms around you further as you both thought over what this could mean. He kissed the top of your head from the position you were now curled into his side. You had both been in deep thought for a while until he spoke again.

“Suppose we should thank the Powers? Do a bit of saving the world?”

“Maybe later” You smiled, setting your cup down and reaching for his face. You landed an open-mouthed kiss, the softest you could muster. The meaning wasn’t lost on him, he wanted to savour every moment with you. Like it was your last.

He rolled over, so that he was now above you. He had started to kiss you so gently, feather-light brushes of his lips down your jaw and along your collarbone. he held you so tenderly, whispering his love repeatedly and punctuating it every time with a kiss. You slid your hands up his chest, one resting on his shoulder warmly as he continued to fill you up with his love. You had plans of ensuring the other felt everything they had longed for in those bleak, solitary periods after you both woke up. The lonely moments were no more. It may take at least the rest of the night at least. Saving the world would have to wait another 24 hours. this time was reserved for the two of you.

The world could wait, as could the Powers. This was a love for all of the ages.

[loruleanheart]

Desired Fate, Chapter 7

Read on ff.net

Read on AO3

The ceremony to inaugurate the Champions was the first formal event of its size that had been held in some time. The only other event of this magnitude was the Queen’s funeral when Princess Zelda was six years of age. An event that had mostly faded from her memory.

Everyone gathered in the sanctum with a few soldiers from each race to accompany their respective champion.

The Champions and Link were all dressed in a blue article of clothing Zelda had made for them. A skirt for Urbosa, a scarf for Revali, a sash for Mipha and Daruk, and a blue tunic for Link. 

King Rhoam gave a rousing speech. Even Zelda felt a renewed sense of duty. Everything felt normal and right.

The ceremony was to be concluded with the princess’s blessing to the hero and the sword that seals the darkness, and that’s when Zelda’s enthusiasm was curbed quite a bit.

Link knelt before her with the sacred blade at his back. Zelda could feel the eyes of the Champions, Impa, and her father bearing down on her as she gave a rehearsed, half-hearted speech. She wasn’t feeling worthy of giving such a blessing, but she got through it without incident.

Zelda concluded the blessing and gave a soft sigh of relief. She couldn’t help but glance at the back of her gloved hand. Her hand, where the power was said to manifest in females born to the goddess’s bloodline. If it would only awaken within her. 

Later, when everyone was winding down after the ceremony, Zelda sat alone on a concrete bench, watching the Champions enjoy a moment of rest.

What did they think of her? On the surface, they all seemed reasonably supportive of her struggle to unlock her power, but what did they really think of her?

How many times had she trained at the springs of power and courage? And soon she’d do it all over again. Again, most likely without success.  The failure and disappointment were taking their toll. She felt like she was a million years old, despite her physical age of a mere sixteen.

She was vaguely aware of the conversations of the Champions, but the Zora Princess caught her attention. Mipha was not so subtly gushing about Link, wanting to become stronger to fight alongside him. It seemed the poor Zora Princess was unaware that she’d been speaking loudly enough to gain Link’s attention and Mipha became flustered when he turned to acknowledge her.

Something inside Zelda twinged.

If only it were that simple...

Zelda lowered her gaze and pushed her mind elsewhere, fidgeting with the gold ring that secured her gloves.

oOo

Astor looked down at the back of his gloved hand. He tapped his fingers lightly on the edge of the table, the gold ring on his finger creating a gentle clinking sound. It appeared the Harbinger was still displeased with him.

Kohga knelt to offer the black Guardian a banana, the Harbinger slapping it away.

“You’ve really done it this time, little lord malice! It’s been three days and your Harbinger is still pouting like a spoiled child.”

Astor felt a headache coming on, not bothering to chastise Kohga for being so disrespectful to Lord Ganon. He closed his eyes and rubbed his brow, trying to clear his mind.

… twins...

The thought landed like a Guardian crashing through Astor’s mental wall. His heart rate quickened and he shakily pushed the thought away, not wanting to confront it, simply passing it off as an intrusive thought planted by Kohga’s earlier comments.

The prophet redirected his thoughts. It wasn’t lost on him that there was a huge celebration underway at Hyrule Castle. All of Hyrule was united against him and his destiny. Not even the Yiga seemed particularly invested, and why would they? They seemed satisfied with their current way of life.

And then there was her… The Princess whose power to seal Calamity Ganon away was dormant, yet she had spared him. She should hate him, fear him.

She was a fixture in his prophetic dreams as of late, and he wouldn’t dare speak a word of them to the Yiga Leaders for a multitude of reasons. They were already losing faith in him as it was. More distressing, he sensed these prophetic dreams were not of Calamity Ganon. No, these prophetic dreams were a stark contrast from the Great Calamity’s. 

He felt a most unwelcome feeling creeping in.

Could it be that she’s not fated to die? That’s why I failed… I... can accept that... She’s fated to unlock her power… No, no… Preventing her from unlocking that power is the least I can do…

“Hey prophesy man, you alright? You seem like you’re losing your bananas…”

“He never had any to begin with….” Sooga commented.

Astor barely heard them, his thoughts fixed on this new vision he’d been having night after night since he’d crossed her path.

The scene is a familiar one - Fort Hateno. In this vision, not only has she unlocked her power, but she’s taking down blights and Guardians with horrifying ease. She wielded her newfound power with confidence and glowed with a radiant, otherworldly light. Her movements were like a graceful dance. It was like watching a beautiful and powerful goddess destroying his entire world and leaving him in ruin. And he hated the thoughts and feelings this girl conjured up whenever he saw her or so much as thought about her. So this was the future? Did the Calamity even stand a chance? And what did this mean for him and the destiny he thought he had?

“Wretched girl….”

oOo

As the other Champions departed Urbosa came to sit next to a forlorn Zelda. The princess looked up, acknowledging Urbosa with a small smile.

“It’s been quite a whirlwind these past few days.” Urbosa smiled back.

“Yes, it has...” Zelda agreed.

Urbosa’s features changed becoming serious. “Zelda… You’re doing everything right. Feeling sorry for yourself certainly isn’t going to unlock any sort of divine power… But you know what? You never know what might trigger it to at last manifest. You just have to find that thing…  It may be something you could never have envisioned. Don’t give up.”

Zelda breathed in deeply. “Yes, that is my hope…”

Impa approached them along with Purah by her side.

Zelda nearly jumped when she saw Purah, waiting with bated breath for what the Sheikah researcher had to say.

“Princess. I think you’ll be pleased to hear that we did manage to uncover one new bit of information on your mystery man.”

Zelda lit up with a beautiful smile she couldn’t seem to hide, which didn’t go unnoticed by those around her, especially Purah. Even Link took notice and came over to join them.

The Sheikah woman handed Zelda the Slate. “Take a look!” She said a little too enthusiastically, either proud of her accomplishment or eager to see Zelda’s reaction. Impa shot her sister a withering look.

The Sheikah genius walked away, oblivious to what was about to unfold due to her bad timing.

Sure enough, there was a new true to life image. This one showed Astor with two Yiga foot soldiers taking a knee to him. 

Zelda’s smile faded a bit.

Astor… He truly is the center of all things Calamity Ganon…

“Well, well, well. Why am I not surprised?” Urbosa remarked.

Zelda’s chest tightened, waiting for what Urbosa would say next.

“I must admit, I feel responsible given that Gerudo Desert has been home to the Yiga for a long time now. I’ve been far too lenient with them.” 

Zelda relaxed a little. Urbosa still none the wiser. Urbosa was right, however. She shouldn’t be surprised by this development.

“No more…I think Vah Naboris will be indispensable in taking them by surprise at their hideout. It would be a long time coming. Link… Impa… Will you join me in this mission?” Urbosa asked.

The two nodded their approval.

Zelda was stunned, feeling left out of the discussion on what should be done. “Then... I will go as well,” Zelda interjected, prompted by the knowledge that Astor might be at that hideout.

“But, you’d be in danger as you’re their primary target. They’ve tried to kill you, little bird, so now I will crush them beneath Vah Naboris’ hoof.”

What could she say to convince her? Zelda put on a brave face. “Look Urbosa, as princess of Hyrule this is my fight.”

Urbosa gave Zelda a warm smile. “I can see you possess unmatched courage and determination. You remind me of a certain Hylian Vai I used to know.”

“My mother?”

Urbosa nodded. “This still does not sit right with me. I wouldn't feel right putting you in harm's way. This will be an extremely dangerous mission. Not to mention, you’d be a liability for everyone, especially Link who is charged with guarding you.”

“But, I…” Zelda began, realizing this was not an argument she could win. Urbosa’s words stung, but it was true, she’d already wandered off from the group once before and nearly paid with her life. So there really was nothing more she could say without raising Urbosa’s suspicions. Already she was feeling guilty for suggesting she go.

Urbosa’s expression softened. “Sorry… I know that was a sore subject for you, but my stance on this is firm. Don’t worry, little bird, with the might of Vah Naboris, I will raze the Yiga Hideout and anyone left will meet a swift end by my blade.”

Zelda held back the growing dread in the pit of her stomach. She gripped the slate a little too hard, her knuckles going white.

Goddesses, why couldn’t Purah be more discrete… I know this is the right course of action for Hyrule, but…

Zelda shuddered in defeat. Link and Impa caught the princess’s glance. Link held the same imperceptible expression. Impa was watching Zelda, her brow furrowed. The Sheikah advisor gave an audible exhale and dropped her gaze.

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria’s Prophet Ch1

I shut my laundry alarm, slipped on my flip-flops and headed to the basement to get the clothes from the drier.

My frustration lead my hands to my eyes while taking the steps down. I had been hyper-fixating on Sinbad's character arc again. Constantly vacillating between love and hate for this fictional character was driving me, and everyone who had to live with me, up a wall. I needed to get my Sinbad feelings under control before I ranted my best friend/sibling/roommate's ear off again. They would just remind me that you don't get to choose your hyper fixations. Or your comfort characters. Or who you're attracted to. As they've said before, "people are attracted to appearances and personalities. That's why it hurts so much when we find out someone is a bad person."

"Ah!" Vertigo pulled me out of my thoughts as I tried to take another step down after already hitting the bottom of the stairs. I groaned at my own lack of awareness.

The lighting was different. 'Did the power go out?'

The space around me was pitch black. I felt like I was being pulled. It was like feeling the current in a stream. I got walking.

A very dim light grew around me. All of the shelves of my basement were gone. Was I dreaming? I've been a lucid dreamer since I was 5 so it was possible -sure as hell felt similar. Given my mental state, it made sense that I couldn't control the dream like normal and only had awareness.

Hopefully, having to do laundry was part of the dream.

Worried voices came from a turn up ahead.

As soon as I made the turn I saw a bunch of people panicking around a child on the ground. More people came from behind them to see what was going on.

"He isn't breathing!"

I had first aid training back when I was a student and had experience using it into my time as a teacher. I was by the child's side in a flash, having squeezed past the useless people swarming around them.

Long blue hair in a braid, open blue vest, turban, and a golden flute. This was Aladdin from Magi, and I knew what was wrong with him.

I ripped the flute from his hands as Alibaba and Morgiana rushed over. Alibaba pulled Aladdin into his arms and pleaded for his friend to hold on before I could check his condition. At least I had removed the flute so he wouldn't die.

Maybe I *was* a little too obsessed with Magi to be reliving it in a dream, but this gave me an opportunity to do a thing I always want to in scenes like this -hell, I've had to do it with real people.

"Put him down! And stop shaking him!"

The two just stared at me.

I gestured to the ground. " He's weak so holding him like that could hurt him. Put him down."

The desperation on Alibaba's face was one I've seen before in series and on real people. I knew Aladdin would live and I had training, so I could face this calmly, but he didn't.

My words finally register and he put his friend back on the ground. I passed Ugo's flute to them adding, "Keep this away from Aladdin." Holding the flute would hopefully give him something to focus on. "He was pouring all of his magoi into that empty vessel -basically killing himself."

Luckily Aladdin's breathing had returned immediately. I pushed up the sleeves of my oversized hoodie, and adjusted his posture to help his breathing and checked his pulse.

The crowd watched while I checked Aladdin's condition. His pulse and breathing were both uneven, and I felt a weird sensation like I could tell he was drained of energy -like a nearly empty well. I knew the future though so I wasn't too worried.

"He's unstable but holding together," I said. Alibaba and Morgiana were still in shock at seeing their friend like this. "He will live, and wake up when he's ready in a few days. I promise."

"Thank you." Both teens said with shaky voices.

Then I looked up at the crowd, "Can someone get a stretcher or something so he can be moved safely?"

Gold eyes were watching me with an unreadable expression.

How could I forget that Sinbad and Ja'far were in this scene?? Sinbad was the one who originally yelled to remove the flute from Aladdin's hand. There was a look of recognition in Sinbad's eyes as our eyes met, and I felt that strange current again. My stomach went cold. He might be my favorite character, but I also knew all of the horrible things he has done and will some day out do. And I knew I'd probably struggle to keep composure around him.

All the same I felt a pull towards him that I couldn't deny. I tried to play it off, and turned back to focusing on Aladdin.

A guy left and returned with the stretcher, so Aladdin was moved safely.

I hung back as the main cast followed the stretcher to wherever Aladdin was going to be staying until he obtained Solomon's Wisdom. The more space between Sinbad and me, the better.

I needed to decide where I was going next. I tried to change the dream. I didn't want to live through the revolt in Balbadd nor have to deal with Sinbad or my feelings. Still nothing. I could still feel that current strongly, so I couldn't be awake. And yet it seemed the only thing I had an affect on was myself.

A few people were watching me. I was wearing an over sized zipper down hoodie that was just long enough to hide my short-shorts -not to mention my flip-flops and glasses. I didn't exactly fit in. Even I thought it was weird though; in dreams I'm normally in a t-shirt and jeans or at least have my legs covered.

Thin fingers pulled my sleeve to get my attention. "Please come with us." Morgiana stared at me. I could tell she wasn't just asking me to come, she wanted me to help look after Aladdin since I knew what was wrong with him.

She was only slightly shorter than me. She'd get taller in a few years.

I sighed. I couldn't bring myself to say no -especially not when the others also seemed to be waiting for me.

---

After securing Aladdin a private room, Ja'far confirmed his condition.

"How did this happen?" Alibaba panicked over his friend. "This is so much worse than in the dungeon!"

"He used too much magoi." Sinbad and I said in unison. We glanced at each other, and I gestured for him to do the honors, inwardly cursing my tongue. I knew he was going to explain but I couldn't stop myself from answering anyway when I saw Alibaba's worry in person. I identify with aspects of Sinabd for a reason.

The violet haired king explained how even though Aladdin was a Magi, he was too weak to call upon the unlimited magoi of the surrounding Rukh so could only call upon his own.  Even a Magi can die if he loses too much magoi.

During his explanation, Sinbad had watched me out of the corner of his eye. No doubt he was looking for my reaction to the boy being a Magi. I couldn't find it in me to act surprised given the circumstances even though the last thing I needed was for him to pay attention to me.

I took note of his unnecessary lingering on my chest and bare legs though. Sinbad will always be Sinbad after all.

I decided to add information. "The Djinn isn't even in the metal vessel anymore., so his efforts were wasted."

"How can you tell?" Sinbad asked. I couldn't tell if it was genuine curiosity or a test.

I pointed to Ugo's flute in his hands, "The most obvious sign is that the star isn't on the metal vessel anymore." It was something Sinbad was going to take notice of anyway. "Besides, it wasn't Aladdin's magoi fueling Ugo, so when the magoi ran out during the fight there was nothing left keeping Ugo here."

Alibaba and Morgiana were too worried about their friend to notice the name drops, but the King and his aid caught them.

"Regardless, Aladdin needs rest."

We all left the room. Alibaba and Morgiana went to tend to more of the injured. Sinbad and Jafar were supposed to meet up with Masuru and help manage the situation, but instead pulled me aside to a different private room. It was the one with the small table they used after joining the fog troop. Sinbad sat on one side and gestured for me to sit across from him. Ja'far stood behind him.

"Now then, who are you? You're clearly not from around here." Sinbad's nonthreatening smile didn't actually put me at ease. "I could have assumed that you heard Alibaba call Aladdin's and Ugo's names earlier, but you didn't blink at hearing Aladdin's a Magi and now you even know why his attempt to save his friend didn't work. You don't seem to be a magician or a dungeon capturer." He smiled, but he was gauging how much of a threat I was. "Hmm?"

I couldn't blame him for being suspicious of me; I appeared out of nowhere, dressed like no one in this world had ever seen, and knew way more than average. He may have even thought I was a member of Al Thamen. I had to swallow my nerves if I was going to get through this. I tried to think of it like a business meeting, so at least I'd be half put together.

I shrugged, "I doubt you'd believe me even if I told you, King Sinbad." No way he'd believe I was dreaming. I purposefully said his name and title to make it clear that I knew who he was even though he hadn't introduced himself yet. I tried not to, but the longer I looked at him the more nervous I got, and even though he was the Sinbad that I had fixated on and found so comforting he still gave off a slightly dangerous air. I felt a light blush coming on.

"You'd be surprised how much we know. Why don't you try anyway?" Of course Sinbad wouldn't be deterred.

I sighed. "Then would you believe that I actually read this world's fate many times. And I mean more than feeling it's waves. I know exactly what's going to happen next."

"What?” the room seemed to gasp with them. They had been through many adventures and seen many unbelievable things, but never had they met someone who could read fate. The way Sinbad tensed when I mentioned the waves gave me a good feeling -almost like I actually had some level of control.

Part of me regretted saying it of course. However, I thought it would be safer to tell the truth than to lie and reveal it later. Besides, there was no believable answer I could give.

"What type of fools do you take us for?!" Ja'far yelled at me.

Sinbad put a hand between us, quieting Ja'far. "Can you prove that?"

I thought for a moment and looked between them. "If I can 'predict' events that will happen during the next 24 hours, would that be proof enough?"

Sinbad's gaze was piercing, but I knew I wasn't lying and returned it. His eyes were like molten gold with all of his focus. It was the longest I had looked at him directly since I arrived in the world. He was much prettier in person -too beautiful. If he didn't say something soon, I was going to start studying him and get distracted. He had glanced at my legs and chest a few times already, and I was ready to return the favor -even if I'd appear weak to him in the process. Seeing him without his metal vessels was a rare sight after all. He was a good art reference when fully gilded, but it was much easier to see his form when there was just clothes covering it. He almost looked soft; he definitely look about 10,000% more touchable when not covered in a thick layer of gold, silver, and jewels.

"Fine." Sinbad's words shook me from my thoughts. "What is going to happen next?" His smile widened. His sudden charming act must have meant he noticed me ogling him a bit, but I wasn't about to drop my guard for a gorgeous face even if I was blushing.

I answered, "Tonight, the person who has been leaking information to the fog troop will reveal himself -no, I won't say who 'cause it's more fun that way, but let's just say he normally stands behind the king of this country- and he will let everyone know that said king plans to sell his citizens as slaves to pay off his debt to the Kou Empire in order to keep his luxurious life style."

This garnered an even louder, "WHAT???"

I ignored them and carried on with my recounting of the story. "Alibaba will struggle with the stress from being asked to fix things by Morgiana and the informant due to his inexperience. You will step up again, and in turn become more disappointed in Alibaba's abilities than you've done already. Then while drunk tomorrow morning you will voice your disappointment only to be over heard by Morgiana, who will tell you of a past accomplishment of Alibaba's that will make you realize you judged him too quickly. Jafar will call you out as being a drunk idiot-"

"HOLD on a second! You seriously think he would sell his own citizens?" Sinbad's had to be remembering King Rashid and not wanting to believe his son would destroy his legacy that badly. Things were worse than he thought, but it explained many of the problems he was seeing in Balbadd.

I figured he probably only had such an animated response unlike in the original because of how I said it -like the outsider I am, without emotion.

I put my hands in my hoodie pockets. "Soon enough, you will be able to ask the leak yourself."

"Hmm." Sinbad seemed to think he'd find answers somewhere on my form if he looked at the right spot or he was just checking me out openly. His eyes were piercing as he said, "That's still a very serious accusation. What will you do if it turns out you're wrong?"

I sighed and looked away. "Probably the same thing I'll do if it turns out I'm right: try to use what I know to help people and survive another day." If I was going to be dreaming this seriously about any series, I was going to do my best to help, even if I end up changing the plot in the end. I've never been the type to stay still.

"It will be interesting to see what happens." Sinbad seemed to accept my words. "I do have another question."

"Oh?"

"What's your name?"

Ah that. I had been hoping he wouldn't ask. "Call me whatever you want." I really didn't want to hear him say my name.

"Then," the smoldering look he turned on me was too much, "how does 'Beautiful' sounds?"

My face became red as the setting sun as it crashed into my hands. I couldn't tell if I was more embarrassed to be called such a thing or if it was second hand embarrassment for Ja'far having to put up with such a man.

"Whatever! Fine! I don't know why I was expecting anything different from the womanizer of the seven seas, but here we are!"

Ja'far looked at me with pity as Sinbad chuckled at my reaction.

I continued spewing embarrassed nonsense, and left before he could try to to get anything more from me.

I can only assume that the two would go to do whatever they originally would have during this part of the story.

---

This was becoming the most realistic dream I'd ever had. I'd had dreams before with smell, touch, pain, etc, but this one had no time skips, and I felt hunger. In some of my past dreams when I got tired it was actually a sign that I was about to wake up, but it felt different here. It felt more real.

I couldn't take it. I either needed food or sleep or both, and I had no money to get either.

It was a bit sneaky, but I went back to the room Aladdin was resting in. Alibaba would spend some time there later that night after getting asked to save the country. He wasn't there when I arrived, so I was pretty sure Sahmad hadn't revealed himself as the informant yet.

Aladdin was doing as expected. I was a bit disappointed that I wouldn't get to actually meet him before I woke up. He was a good boy -a perv, but still good.

One of the corners of the room had a gap in the supplies so I sat down in it. Some poles would block view of me from the door and most of the rest of the room. I pulled my hood up, my hoodie over my knees, and laid my head on my knees. Hopefully, when I'd wake up I wouldn't have to do laundry.

---

Honestly, I didn't want to wake up. The air was dry so my throat hurt, my back hurt from sleeping in a bad position, and I was really hungry. It would be easier to just sleep a little longer until my hunger subsided so I could move to actually get food.

My stomach growled at me for not taking better care of myself, and I groaned back in frustration. 'I really should get up and feed the cats at least...'

"H-how- How long has that thing been there??"

I blinked my eyes open and looked up at the source of the voice. With my hood no longer protecting me, the sunlight from the window assaulted my eyes. I jerked my head back down with a squeak, "Too bright."

The voice was Alibaba. There were others with him, but I didn't get a good look. How was I still dreaming?

I think I heard someone say, "so this is where she was hiding," under their breath but I could have been hearing things.

Gentle steps made their way towards me and stopped about a yard away. "You're the one who helped Aladdin before, right?"

I lifted my head up slowly that time. I tried to look Morgiana in the eye while adjusting my crooked glasses. "Yeah. That was me," I mumbled.

She was crouched in front of me. "Can you look at him again please?" Her eyes pleaded with me.

"You said he'd wake up in a few days. How long will he need??" Alibaba joined her on the floor making me jolt.

This was not my idea of a good wake up call.

"Calm~ down~" I said through a yawn as I stretched my legs out then stood up.

I walked past them both and up to the sleeping Magi. My too long sleeves covered my hands and I couldn't be bothered to fix them as I yawned into the fabric again.

The two got up and watched me. There was definitely someone else in the room but I couldn't see them past my hood, and I was still too sleepy to care.

Aladdin was sleeping like he would be for a while. What was I supposed to see? "I don't remember exactly how long. He won't wake up until after his Rukh goes and visits Ugo."

A cluster of voices shouted "What?" and "How?" with varying levels of detail.

"Oh right.. That was a secret, wasn't it? Forget I said that." I really should have waited until I was more awake to say anything.

Not looking at any of them, I closed my eyes and moaned. "I just woke up. And now I'm achy from being in that position for so long." I flapped my sleeves in frustration and in an attempt to wake up more. I opened my eyes again, still looking down at Aladdin. "As long as you take care of his body, he'll be fine."

And then my stomach growled again spoiling the moment. My left hand pressed into my stomach. I really felt that one. "Can I impose on you guys for food? I don't have any." I was glad my hood was up. I could feel my eyes getting watery. When I was young I got hangry, but as I got older I started becoming sadgry instead.

There was a light clapping sound and a jovial voice answered me, "Food is not a problem, Ms. Prophet! Just come with me and we'll get you fed."

I turned to the source and saw Ja'far giving me his best professional smile.

[casmoments]

Marriage of Convenience; part 4

Prompt: “Arranged Marriage” -  Certain factions of heaven are on your tail, the consequence of your death a trigger to greater destruction.  In order to protect your life and others, you agree to an old custom that prevents any heavenly agent from harming you.   The basic ritual?  You have to marry an angel.  Fourth part in a series.  

Reader Gender: female Word Count: 4800 Warnings: not very rough sex, but if you’re sensitive to it, then warning.  also some forward action in an empty but public place  

part one ; part two ; part three

-

You awoke to Castiel kissing your temple.  He was dressed and seemingly rushing.   You blinked your eyes open, looked at him confusedly.

“Cas?” you murmured.  “What’s—”  Your question was interrupted by a yawn but he seemed to understand, brushing some of your hair back.

“You should sleep,” he said, inclining his head.  “One of my allies is summoning my presence to heaven.   I should see what’s disturbing them.”   You groaned, shifting beneath the covers.   You realized you wore a large t-shirt though you had not fallen asleep in that—you had not fallen asleep in anything.  You looked down at yourself and he followed your gaze, smiling gently.   “It was difficult to pry myself from your side,” he said, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“’s fine,” you grumbled, lifting a hand to touch the side of his face.   “Will you be back soon?”  He turned his head and kissed your palm, looking down at you with sincere affection.

“I will try,” he said.

He was gone shortly after that, kissing you again before he departed.   You rolled over and fell into sleep, hoping he would return by dawn.    It did not happen.    You awoke to an empty bed and sighed to yourself, nonetheless rising and dressing for the day.    You met the Winchesters in the kitchen.   They appeared to be packing some provisions for the road.  

“Got another case?” you asked, making for the fridge.   Sam looked at you a bit funny and Dean had a moment of amusement, but you were still a bit groggy and didn’t heed it.  

“Yup,” Dean eventually answered, tossing Sam an apple.   Sam caught it, his eyes on a newspaper.   He bit down while determinedly skimming an article.   “Sounds like there might be a vamp nest couple states over.   We’ll be gone a few days.   You gonna be okay?”    Dean asked that every time, though his question held gravity because this was their first expedition after your marriage.   You could venture outside now and they all knew you would.   Though you admitted that despite knowing you were now protected, it was a daunting idea, especially with everyone so far away from you.

“I’ll be fine,” you said.   You decided to do some research before committing to any journey.   For now you just smiled, grabbing some food out of the fridge and returning to the table.   “You guys be safe, though, you hear?”   You always replied with such a comment and that eased Dean.   He ruffled your hair.

Not long after that, the Winchesters were gone and you sat alone in the library.   Sam had provided you with a text outlining your marriage.   You skimmed through it and verified your thoughts.  You mostly wondered what force actually prevented heavenly agents from harming you because it surely wasn’t an honour system.   But it seemed to involve the celestial consummation on your wedding night.   You had some of his grace inside of you, all but melded into your soul, and it served as some kind of shield.   It protected you as well as him.   If something happened to him, his grace somehow taken, angels attempting to break the accord by rendering him human, it would still be partially locked inside you.   Your contract would always stand; he would always be an angel and you would always be part of him.

Bound for eternity, you thought.   Once the prophet and angel had joined, it was everlasting.  Not even heaven could undo it.   Some of Castiel’s stronger abilities had waned but he was irrefutably angelic.   Thanks to this, he would perpetually remain so, regardless of his enemy’s attempts to dismantle him.

You waited in the bunker for a while, uncertain of when to expect Castiel’s return.   His visits were once rare but you supposed that would change.   Your stomach knotted in anticipation.  

Otherwise idle, you daydreamed for a moment, one of your oldest fantasies playing in your mind.   The first time it occurred, you could not meet his eye for weeks.   You were always careful to never utter his name aloud lest you be heard by someone.   Even when you were alone, you kept it all inside your head.   He could suddenly materialize and hear you and that would have horrified poor, infatuated you.  

But you had no such worry anymore, wanting nothing more than for him to appear while you murmured his name.    You slouched in your seat and closed your eyes.   His name fell from your lips with a gentle sigh, reflective, wistful, gentle.   Your daydream floated absently though your mind, dream-Castiel sitting across from you, his eyes wandering your form.   You innocently skipped around him, dressed in a skirt which lifted suggestively when you stretched or bent over.   He would admire each swivel of your hips and dip of your body, watching and watching until it was too much.   He would stand and approach you, eyes blazing with predatory intent.  A wildly confused question would fall from your lips—“Castiel, what are you doing?”—but he would just press you against the table, his front aligned to your backside, hard ridge of his cock straining through his pants.   His arms would cage you, his hands beside yours on the table.  

“You know what I’m doing,” is all the reply he would offer, and your oh-so scandalized self would gasp as he hoisted your skirt, flipping it above your waist.

“Oh, Castiel,” dream-you always murmured, an utterance in actuality this time.  But you were still alone, even as your thoughts played themselves out.   Castiel would yank your underwear down, desperate and impatient, and he would part your legs, grip your hips, undo his pants and fill you with one solid thrust.   He would be unrelenting and you would gasp, groan, writhe in pleasure.   And when he had finished, he would lower your skirt, pocket your panties, and straighten you.   He would hold you tight against him, your back to his front, and his hand would curve around your throat and hold just tight enough to lock you in place.   He would turn your head and kiss you, nip at your bottom lip.  

“You know whose you are,” he would say, and his mouth would find that spot between neck and shoulder to brand.

You touched that mark now, recalling it still existed.   You blushed when you remembered the looks Sam and Dean had thrown you that morning.   They made a little more sense now.   Still, you didn’t have it in you to be embarrassed, not while thoughts of your husband danced around your head, his mark on display, his touch like a phantom presence across your skin and—

—and waiting for him was going to drive you mad, you realized.  You had only been married a couple days but you supposed heavenly wars did not care about interrupting your honeymoon period.   At any rate, you couldn’t just sit around in the bunker waiting for him.  Making use of your newfound freedom, you pulled on shoes and a coat and took a walk.   You were a bit jumpy but your greatest adversary proved to be a squirrel.   After your walk, you decided to eat out.   By the time you finally returned to the bunker, it was getting late, and still no sign of Castiel.   You couldn’t hold it against him; the things he did were important.   You idled around the bunker for a bit, watched some television, then fell asleep listening to music.  

You hoped to wake the following morning to Castiel in your bed, but no such luck.  You spent another day out, chatting on the phone with Sam for a bit.  The day was not very exciting but you enjoyed yourself, hopping a bus into the city and spending some time just experiencing the things you had missed for the past several months.   You returned home with some dinner, ate while listening to the radio, then turned in shortly after that.

This regime continued for three more days.   You wondered how you could ever go weeks without seeing Castiel, then supposed the answer was obvious; there was never a promise of intimacy until now.    All the same, you had your independence, but damnit if you weren’t already going through withdrawal.  

Though you tried to wait, you couldn’t help but fall onto your bed with your hand between your legs, attempting to recreate every glorious sensation he had shared with you.   It was a pale comparison but satisfied some tension.  

“Castiel,” you murmured, picturing his return.   He would be absolutely mad with desire, taking you right up against the door.   He would utter stories of the past few days, how he had thought of you, wanted you, needed you like you needed him.   You gasped, moaned, whimpered, throwing your head back and bucking your hips as you came.   Then you just lay there, panting, staring up at the ceiling and bracing yourself for another day.   You dressed then stood in front of your sparse closet, frowning.

Because you had been in the bunker for so long, and because your move had been quite spontaneous, you didn’t actually own many clothes.   You would lounge in the same grungy ensembles for days at a time, your few appropriate outfits saved for when the boys accompanied you somewhere.   Now that you could come and go as you pleased, you realized you would need a bit more clothing. Grabbing the emergency credit card Dean had given you, you left the bunker and made for the city, hitting up a department store.

You hummed to yourself, content, ever anticipating Castiel’s return.   You refused to call the knots in your stomach anything but anticipation.   Nerves implied he was in danger.   You knew he could be but you tried not to think of it, attempted to be optimistic.  

A kind employee helped you with your shopping, taking some outfits to the dressing room for you to try on.   You browsed for a few more ensembles when something caught the corner of your eye.   Hmm.

You wandered over to the lingerie section.   You owned a few nice articles, purchased for yourself and your own sense of sexiness.   But lingerie was expensive and you never really went out of your way to obtain it.   But you looked over a few pieces now, pictured yourself wearing them, pictured Castiel if he returned to find you lazing in some of the more provocative numbers.

“Can I try some of these on?” you asked the employee, not wanting to purchase something that turned out to be unflattering.

“Some of them, yes,” the lady said.  “Some you can’t.  Hygiene reasons, of course.”

“Of course,” you said, fiddling with the silky material of a push-up bra.   “Could you, um, show me which are okay to… I’d like to try…”   Apparently marriage had not totally cured your blushes.   The lady took pity, smiled kindly.

“Of course,” she said.  “I’ll help you.  This way.”

You picked a few pieces and she took them to the dressing room, adding them to your other articles.   You returned to the clothing section, browsing one last time before your dressing room retreat.   The store was quite empty.  It was a decent establishment but you supposed this wasn’t a popular hour for shopping.   You were halfway to the dressing room, mind wandering absently when a hand landed on your arm.   You thought it was the lady and politely turned around.

“Castiel!”  You all but launched yourself at him, arms thrown around his shoulders and face plastered to his chest.   He chuckled, smoothing a hand down your hair, the other wrapping around you.   “Ugh, you’ve been gone for days…”   You pouted, tipping your head back to look at him.

“I apologize,” he said, blue eyes swimming with promise and sincerity.  Your heart beat faster but you swore something rippled deeper, right in the core of your being, and you wondered if it was the reunion of his grace inside you.   The culmination of everything just increased your heart rate, your smile bright, his glance affectionate.   He leaned down and kissed you, not half so desperately as you would have liked but you supposed this was a public place.   He pulled back and looked around, squinting a bit.   “Why are you here?” he asked.

“I wanted to do some shopping,” you said.  “I needed some new clothes.”

“I see.”  He looked down at you again, a certain look flashing in his gaze.  “Are you finished?”

You bit your bottom lip, unable to refuse the action, smiling a little bit.   His eyes dropped to your mouth and you freed your lip, locking your hands behind his neck.

“Why?” you asked, boldly teasing.   He looked at you dryly, humouring your feigned innocence.

“I have been securing some levels of heaven for days,” he said, hands on your hips, drawing you close, “though I seemed to endure weeks because of distracting prayers.”    You looked at him with legitimate confusion, tipping your head.   He leaned down towards you, chastely kissing your cheek.   It looked like an innocent action, and no one else knew that he leaned towards your ear to whisper lowly, “When you utter my name with such yearning, wife, you open your thoughts to a channel of communication.”

Your fantasies from the past few days all flittered through your head.   You couldn’t help but blush, thinking of the images you had unwittingly sent Castiel.   You had heaped your own sexual frustration on top of his, not to mention accidentally sharing ideas you could not openly admit.  He lifted a hand to your face, thumb stroking your pink cheek.   You were two seconds away from forgetting about the clothes, allowing him to zap you back to the bunker and just have his damn way with you… when you remembered a couple of the pieces hanging up in that cubicle.  

“I’m almost done here,” you said, sliding your hands down his chest, fidgeting with the lapels of his coat.  “I just want to try a few things on.  Will you stay while I do that or do you have somewhere to be?”   He placed a hand over yours, held it to his chest and looked at you fondly.

“I’d like to keep your company,” he said, then seemed to surrender a thought.  “Will this take very long?”  

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head.   He smiled.

“No,” you said, “I don’t think so.   Come on.”   You pulled out of his embrace, took his hand in yours.   You smiled up at him while weaving through racks of clothes, eventually turning your gaze ahead.   Your cheeks were still warm, alight with a faint blush, and you doubted it would recede—not with what you were planning.    The employee was leaving the dressing room area just as you entered.   She offered her assistance should it be necessary and then retreated.  

“She was very kind,” Castiel said absently, looking around.   The dressing rooms were tucked inside a nook, a row of cubicles with floor-lengths doors, white and wooden and slatted closed.  There was a rack of clothes to be returned outside and three full-length mirrors, framed around each other to pose and admire your own form.   There were two armchairs and a bench, though the room was empty of all people.  

“Just sit there,” you said, gesturing to an armchair in front of your cubicle.   “I just have a couple things I want to try on.”    He nodded, seating himself in a chair, sitting rather stiff before awkwardly leaning back, not succeeding in finding much comfort.   You just giggled, stepping into the cubicle and closing the door.   You looked at yourself in the mirror inside, pulled a face before shaking your head.   Right, you said.  Gotta do this properly.

You changed into pants and a shirt first, stepped out to look at yourself in the mirrors.   You had a decent idea of the ensemble with the one cubicle mirror, but there was a science to your presentation and you would not screw it up.  

“Nice, huh?” you asked, looking at Castiel.   He nodded.   He seemed to have found a comfortable position, leaning slightly to one side.   He propped his head against his fist, his other arm draped over the back of the chair.   You swallowed, looking away from him.   You still weren’t too sure why that position was so attractive but damn, was it ever.   Get it together, you told yourself, returning to the cubicle.   This is your sexy parade, not his, damnit.

You changed into a summer dress, loose and flowy, cutting off just above the knee.   You had picked it up in recollection of your library fantasy, and now that he knew about it you wondered if it would affect him.   You stepped out of the cubicle, smoothing the material over your hips, and you felt his eyes follow you as you approached the mirror.

“This is pretty, I think,” you said, turning a bit, giving him a decent view of your backside, the dip of the dress.   You looked at him over your shoulder.   “What do you think?”

His eyes were a bit low, sweeping up your legs before meeting your gaze.  Despite the inherent flirtation, his words were spoken kindly.

“You look… very beautiful,” he said, head lifting off his fist for a moment.   You smiled, looked at yourself in the mirrors before retreating.   “Are there many more?” he asked.   You looked back at him, slowly closing your cubicle door.

“Almost there,” you said, watching as he pressed his temple to his fist again.  How he could be adorable and sexy at once, you weren’t sure.    You closed the cubicle door and locked it, turning to look at your next piece.   You carefully undressed, taking your time to don each article.   You kept an ear on the space outside make sure no one else wandered into the dressing room.   It sounded pretty empty out there, though.

You looked at yourself in the mirror once dressed.   It wasn’t too brazen, lacy black panties that slung low at your hips, a black bra which pushed up your breasts, full cups but lacy like the underwear.    You snapped one of the straps against your skin, smiling as you looked at yourself.   You weren’t going to lie, the lingerie thing really worked wonders.  

You opened and the door stepped out, fighting a blush as you went over to the mirror.   You did not look at him directly but you saw Castiel was immediately affected.   His arm dropped from its perch, his head following you very deliberately.   You looked at him, expression innocent as ever.  

“What do you think?” you asked.   He didn’t seem to know where to look, gaze flicking over your body before he looked up at you.   He said nothing but tipped his head, looking at you with a sort of scrutiny—he totally knew what you were doing and that heated glance set a fire in your core.   “Not this one, then?” you asked, snapping the waistband of the underwear against your hip.   His eyes fell to the motion before he met your gaze again.   His pupils had dilated noticeably, blue pierced with black.   “Right.  Better try again then,” you said, returning to your cubicle without further ado.

The really skimpy bits couldn’t be tried on in-store, only purchased, so you couldn’t torment him beyond any brink.   But your second ensemble pushed a decent boundary.   The underwear was thin, almost see-through, the bra strapless and cups small, just covering you enough to stay on.  A sheer material draped over your middle, leaving little to the imagination.  You turned in front of the mirror, smiled to yourself, and stepped out again.

He was sitting straight this time, arms on the armrests, staring at your door.   He watched as you passed him, stepping up to the mirrors once more.

“So?” you asked, looking at him.   You gathered your hair and lifted it onto your head, arms stretching, exposing a little more skin.   You turned your hips this way and that, faced him with your eyebrows lifted.   He was breathing very evenly, like it required effort to keep that rhythm, and his gaze was fixated low on your body.  You watched him wet his lips as his eyes moved up.  Then he looked at you as one solitary word tumbled from his lips, gravelly and hot and dark.

“Fuck.”

That sound hit you right between the legs, fires melting to wet heat and you figured you would have to buy this underwear pretty soon if you didn’t get them off…

He stood when you reached the cubicle, though, and suddenly you were rushed inside.   You stumbled backward, hitting the mirror, and he closed the door behind himself.   Your heart raced, breath catching, the look in his eyes hungry and determined.  You lowered your gaze, not missing that hard bulge in his trousers.   Looking up again, you pressed yourself against the mirror and gasped as he approached.

“We can’t do this here,” you said quickly, swallowing.   He stopped inches from your face, leaning over you, his wild eyes not straying anywhere else.   “And I can’t bring this with me.  I haven’t paid for it.”

“Then you should take it off,” he said.   His hands were on you before you could blink, unhooking the clasp at the front of the bra.   It gave way, floating to the floor around you.   His hands were rough and quick, exactly how you fantasized, and you were pretty sure prayer was not intended for such usage but blessed be accidental prayers.   He shoved at the material on your hips, crouching as he pulled it down your thighs and past your knees.   You stepped out of it and he stood again, leaving you completely naked under his roving stare.

“Castiel…” you murmured, his gaze lifting to meet yours.   A hand lifted towards your face, thumb running over your lips.

“You do enjoy my name, don’t you, wife?” he asked.

“And you enjoy calling me wife, don’t you, husband?” you returned, lips moving over his thumb as you spoke.   His other hand slid over your shoulder, moving into your hair and gripping the back of your head.  You made a low noise as he tugged lightly, tipping your head back, exposing the line of your throat.   Your chest thrust forward as your back curved.   You breathed hard, murmuring nonsensical sounds as he dragged his thumb over your lips, down your chin, fingers splaying over your collarbone and freezing there while his gaze wandered lower.  

“You are irresistibly beautiful,” he said.  “This might be why heaven first outlawed our engagement to your kind.”   You shuddered as his fingers wandered lower, slipping between your breasts, down your stomach, his grip on your hair tightening.   “You’re a welcome distraction,” he said, hand moving aside, down your thigh.  “Though lesser beings would struggle to let you leave their beds.”   You made a wanting noise, his hand sliding to your inner thigh, running upwards but pulling away at the last second.  

“So I haven’t beaten down your resolve yet?” you asked.    His wandering gaze lifted again, dark, focussed.   You licked your lips, fingers curling against the mirror behind you.

“We’ll see,” he said.   “For now, I want my wife.”  

You yelped as he flipped you around, the moment whirling to dizzying heights as the scene shifted around you.   A wooden door was suddenly in front of you.   It took a moment to realize, but you were back in your bedroom at the bunker.   Your hands were flattened to the door, one of his hands on your hip and the other undoing his pants.   You moaned, a helpless, shaking, desperate sound, realizing this was a combination of two fantasies you sent him.  

You were bent over, hands braced on the door, hair falling over your bare shoulders.   His hand moved between your legs, one of his feet nudging yours.   You groaned, head dropping forward as you spread your legs as per his silent request.   You bit your lip as his hand teased at your wet heat, fingers deftly pressing upward.  

“Take me, please,” you murmured, pressing back against his hand.    A week ago, you could never imagine yourself in such a position, so open and unabashed, but you were completely undone and wanting of one thing.   You tried to press back against him again but he removed his hand, both of them sliding over your backside, moving onto your hips.

“Take you,” he repeated.   “That is very different from making love, isn’t it?”

Your response was a vague grunting noise, then you felt the head of his cock between your thighs.  You thrust back, only pausing when his hand moved between you, guiding him to your entrance.  

“You’ll have what you want,” he said, easing inside of you.  You moaned, the feel of him inside you again perfect.   “If I had ever known you were so eager,” he said with a grunt, pulling back a bit to thrust forward again, “I would have taken you much sooner… thrown you against the nearest space and fucked you until you trembled to think of me.”   You moaned, thudding your hands against the door as he started guiding your hips, sliding them over his cock with each intense thrust.   “But I would not rewrite our story.”  After a few more thrusts, he pulled out and straightened you, hand lightly circling your throat as in your fantasy.   He held you against him and you realized he had zapped his clothes away at some point—some very recent point, because you could feel the brush of material before this.   You all but melted against him, head landing on his shoulder, his fingers soft on your neck.   He kissed the side of your face, slow, warm.   “I take far too much pleasure in being your husband.”

“I love being your wife,” you said, words scarcely spoken before he sat on the bed.   He kept your back pressed to his chest but helped you onto him, your legs spread over him, straddling his thighs as he entered you.   You sunk onto his cock, tipping your head back so his temple pressed to yours.

“Then I would say I have succeeding in taking you,” he said, all but bouncing you in his lap.   You panted, reaching back to touch a hand to his face.   His breath hit your neck in short, hot bursts, his hands sliding down to your thighs, moving you over him.   His thrusts only slowed when his hand moved towards you, fingers prying, circling your clit as he moved inside you.  Your sounds turned frantic, delving to one moan as you came apart, clenching around him.   He pounded up into you, low noises rolling past his lips as you squeezed his cock inside you.  Your faint convulsions finally ceased, just as he finished.  You slumped against him, a small, weak noise still threaded into every pant.  

“Y/N,” he said, kissing your cheek, brushing your hair back.   “Are you all right?”

“All right,” you repeated, “I’m more than all right.”   He laughed at that, a short but pleased sound, his arms wrapping around your waist.   You reached back for him, groaning as he lifted you up and onto your feet.   You stumbled for a second, then found yourself back in his arms.   He laid back on the bed, not high enough to reach the pillows, but centred quite surely.   He held you against him, your head tucked under his chin, fingers on his shoulders.   “I missed you,” you said after a moment.   He kissed the top of your head.

“I did as well,” he said.  “I find it very difficult to be apart from you, even more than before.”   He looked down at you then and you looked up, curious.   He smiled gently.   “Have you enjoyed your freedom?” he asked.   You smiled back.

“Yeah,” you said.  “But it’s nice when I get to share it with you.”

“I look forward to sharing days with you,” he said, brushing his fingers over your cheek, leaning down and kissing you.    You remained there for a while, languidly kissing, unwinding from the passion before.  After a while you leaned back, arching your back a bit as you stretched.  

“Come on,” you said, slowly sitting up.   He followed, looking at you curiously.   “I do want to buy some more clothes eventually,” you said, “though I think you shouldn’t accompany me.”  He sort of grinned at that, his fingers idly stroking over your thigh.   “But that’s not where I’m headed.  After all this, I think,” you smiled to yourself, batting your eyelashes, “that I need a shower.”  

He looked like he had a comment but then paused, considering it.   He looked at you again and you lifted your eyebrows, tipping your head.

“Are you coming?” you asked, offering your hand.   He looked at it and then met your gaze, smiling.  

He placed his hand in yours.  

part five

castiel x reader masterpost

[crystalstar8]

Knights of the Night (ch. 5)

Chapter 5

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 1,942

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j  @daechwitad-2​

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing...

               “Come downstairs and meet our new friends!” said Hoseok.

               Catalina’s eyes widened when she saw the person coming around the corner upstairs. He was bookmarking the book in his hands and closing it. As he walked down the stairs, Catalina took in his sharp, intelligent eyes, his full lips and otherwise soft features. His hair was styled delicately over his forehead, his shoulders were broad, his chest was big, even under his sweater and…

               Catalina knew those thighs.

               Jungkook choked beside Catalina and nudged her.

               “Thighs,” he whispered. Catalina nodded.

               “We saw you in the souvenir shop the other day,” said Catalina. “I’m sorry, uh, my name is Catalina.”

               “It’s nice to meet you,” Namjoon said with a smile, his dimples appearing. Catalina blushed. He was way too gorgeous. “Yeah, Hoseok and I stopped there on our way into town the other day. I think I remember seeing you two there.”

               “Oh! You guys work at the souvenir store!” said Hoseok. “I knew you looked kinda familiar.”

               “Yeah, we’re only there on the weekends,” said Jungkook. “We’re only gonna be working for the season.”

               “It seems like an interesting job,” said Hoseok. “You’ll get to see all the tourists.”

               “You guys are all students?” asked Namjoon. Catalina, Jungkook and Jimin all nodded. He asked them about their majors and what kinds of classes they were taking, which they happily answered until Catalina caught a glimpse of the time.

               “Guys, it’s three am,” she said. “We should probably head home.”

               “Oh jeez, we have that stupid French class at eight tomorrow,” said Jungkook.

               “We won’t keep you then,” said Taehyung. “Classes are important.”

               Taehyung walked them all out, through the front door this time, and the three friends began making their way back to the car.

               “Well, that was interesting,” said Catalina. “We didn’t die, so that was cool.”

               “I thought they were all pretty cool!” said Jungkook. “I mean, still a bit weird, but cool.”

               “Taehyungie wants me to teach him how to play video games,” said Jimin.

               “He wants you to teach him?” Jungkook asked with a laugh. Jimin smacked his arm.

               “We’ll be learning together,” said Jimin.

               “That’s so cute,” said Catalina. “You already have a nickname for him. Anyway, I have a question: why the hell were they all so attractive?”

               “I was thinking the same thing!” said Jimin. “It didn’t make any sense! Like, normal people don’t look like that. They were way too beautiful.”

               “We’re normal people though,” said Jungkook. Catalina and Jimin looked at him in confusion. “I mean, we’re hot too. Sometimes people are just hot.”

               “We’re like, normal people hot though,” said Jimin. “Those guys were like…gods or something.”

               “Yeah, way too pretty. Perfect skin, perfect hair, all charming,” said Catalina.

               “Red eyes,” Jimin mumbled.

               “Okay fine, they were unusually pretty,” said Jungkook. “I’m just glad we got some awesome footage today. I can’t wait to dump this.”

               “Okay, well don’t do it tonight, because we do have class tomorrow morning,” said Catalina.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

               Catalina was running again. Always running. Her feet were bare and her lungs burned. The concrete beneath her feet gave way to metal grating. Her footsteps clanged and echoed here as she made her way through the tunnels. She glanced behind her. It was dark, but she could see a set of red eyes approaching her, almost glowing. These eyes weren’t the ones she was used to. These were mean. These eyes looked at her like she was prey. The man who the eyes belonged to walked, as if it didn’t take much effort to chase after her. He had a sickening smile on his face.

               Catalina needed to get out of these tunnels. If she could get back to her friends, they’d protect her.

               “Here, kitty, kitty,” the man said, his voice mirthful. “Don’t you know trespassers get eaten, little kitty?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

               “I don’t remember what he looked like, but I remember what he said,” Catalina said to Jungkook as they made their way to the library. “He said, ‘Don’t you know trespassers get eaten, little kitty?’ Just like in your story.”

               “That’s creepy,” said Jungkook. “He had red eyes though? Was he one of those guys from the house?”

               “No, definitely not,” said Catalina. “I remember thinking about them, and you and Jimin, and thinking that I needed to reach you guys because you’d keep me safe. This is the first time I could remember so much.”

               “I wonder what these dreams mean,” Jungkook said as he opened the library door for her.

               “Thanks. Yeah, I have no idea,” said Catalina.

               “Maybe they’re prophetic,” said Jungkook.

               “God, I hope not,” Catalina said as they approached the table. Jin and Jimmy K were both sitting there, textbooks open.

               “Well, well, well,” said Jin. “Look who decided to finally show up today.”

               “You don’t have to greet us like that every time,” said Jungkook as Catalina laughed.

               “How are you guys today?” asked Catalina.

               “Now that you’re here? Fantastic,” said Jimmy K with a wink.

               Catalina blushed and said, “Okay, that’s enough, captain.”

               Catalina and Jungkook sat down as Jin began their tutoring session and Jimmy K studied silently beside them.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

               “So, game night,” said Jimin. “Do either of you know what to expect tonight?”

               “Nope! I’m just excited to sit around and eat,” said Catalina. “Take a right up ahead.”

               “Where? There’s no driveway, oh wait,” Jungkook turned into a somewhat overgrown driveway, hidden by the woods. “Also, we have a premier to watch!”

               “They’re gonna love it,” said Catalina. “Jimin, did you have fun yesterday?”

               “I did! Hoseok is a really good dancer,” he said. It’s been a week since they broke into the house and met Taehyung, Hoseok, and Namjoon. Yesterday, Catalina and Jimin had invited Hoseok to a freestyle session in the campus studio. He was happy to join them and show off his moves. They all ended up teaching each other different styles, but it was mostly Catalina and Jimin asking Hoseok to teach them the pop and lock style he was so good at.

               Jungkook’s car pushed through the heavily overgrown driveway until they reached cobblestone, which led right up to the mansion. Catalina closed her phone map and said, “Well, it’s good to know there’s an easier way up here.”

               “Yeah, I thought we’d have to keep hiking up those rocks every time,” said Jungkook as he put the car into park. The three friends piled out of the car, arms full of snacks, wearing their comfiest pajamas. The porch lights of the mansion were on, illuminating Taehyung as he opened the front door.

               “Welcome!” he shouted. “Did you find it okay?”

               “Yeah, Hoseok texted us a route,” said Catalina.

               “You guys and your fancy telephones,” said Taehyung. He let them in and they all took off their shoes. “So, we were thinking some board games tonight. Or card games. Or a game Hoseok described to us called Pictionary. Or we can just chat. Or-“

               “Tae, that all sounds great,” said Catalina.

               “Right, sorry,” he chuckled. “Here, follow me.”

               They followed Taehyung through a few halls before entering a cozy lounge. Big plush couches lined three walls, a flat screen tv was mounted against one wall and a low coffee table sat in the center of the room. Hoseok and Namjoon stood up from the couch as they entered. The smile fell from Taehyung’s face.

               “Where’s Yoongi?” he asked.

               “He said he wasn’t in the mood for game night,” said Namjoon.

               “Who’s Yoongi?” asked Jimin.

               “He’s our other roommate,” said Namjoon. “He’s been tired these days.”

               “He promised!” Taehyung pouted. “He told me he’d come to game night.”

               “Let’s go find him then,” said Hoseok.

               “I’ll go with you!” said Catalina. “I really want to see the house.”

               “Me too!” said Jimin.

               “Me three,” said Jungkook.

               “Okay, Tae tae, Namjoon, you two stay here and set up a game. I’ll give these three a tour,” said Hoseok. They dumped the snacks onto the coffee table and followed Hoseok out of the room.

               He led them through the massive house, through rooms so grand, Catalina wondered how big this house actually was.

               “This is the library,” said Hoseok. The room they were in was enormous. The ceiling was cavernous and domed and the bookshelves towered high.

               “This is an impressive collection,” said Catalina.

               “I know, these guys do love their books,” said Hoseok. “They’ve been collecting for years I guess.”

               “I’m sure,” said Catalina.

               Hoseok then led them through several hallways then showed off his bedroom. His room was so unlike the rest of the house, it felt like stepping into another world. Everything was bright and colorful, there were brand posters all over the walls and an impressive shoe collection beside the closet, which was open and showing off an array of colorful clothes. Hoseok then took them on a walk through the conservatory. There wasn’t much growing right now. It was mostly cracked marble and empty pots.

               “Maybe we can fill this room with plants next summer,” said Hoseok.

               “I garden with my mom every year,” said Jimin. “I’d love to help.”

               “That would be very nice,” said Hoseok. “This house deserves to be put back together again. It’s just so pretty.”

               He then led them back through the house. As they walked the halls, chatting about their classes and classmates, Catalina could hear the faint sound of a pipe organ.

               “Ah, he must be in the auditorium,” said Hoseok. Catalina’s eyes widened.

               “The auditorium?” asked Jimin. “You guys have an auditorium in here?”

               “With a pipe organ?” asked Catalina. Hoseok chuckled and rolled his eyes.

               “I know, right?” he said. “These guys are so dramatic. I guess they’re used to a certain lifestyle and they’re all rich for some reason…I mean, back in collage, I was happy when I could afford a cup of ramen in my one room dorm.”

               They followed the sound of the pipe organ until they came to the auditorium. The three friends gasped as they entered. The auditorium wasn’t huge, but it was incredibly elaborate. When Catalina was about twelve, her mother had taken her to a show at the Detroit Masonic Temple. This auditorium reminded her of the Masonic Temple auditorium, all carved wood and velvet seats. Up on the stage was a huge, ornate organ. The pipes lined the walls near the ceiling, emitting long, haunting notes. A man sat at the organ, hunched over the keys.

               “Yoonie-boonie honey-baby!” Hoseok shouted in his loudest, cutsey-est voice. The man at the organ stopped playing. Hoseok skipped down the aisle and hopped up onto the stage. “We have visitors, come meet them!”

               The man turned around slowly to look at them. He was just as beautiful as the other residents of the house. His eyes were dark red, just like the others, catlike and tired. His round face was pale, his lips in a slight pout.

               “I thought we weren’t having humans at the house,” Yoongi said. Hoseok laughed loudly, slapping his knee.

               “We’re all human here, so I’m not sure what that means!” said Hoseok. Catalina and Jungkook laughed along with him as Jimin just looked at them with wide eyes. Yoongi seemed like an interesting character. “Come to game night with us. I miss my honey-boy Yoonie bear.”

               Yoongi stood up and looked down at Catalina, Jungkook and Jimin from the stage.

               “It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “Will there be food at game night?”

               “I brought salt and vinegar chips,” said Jimin.

               “I brought chocolate,” said Catalina. Yoongi pointed at her.

               “A woman after my own heart,” said Yoongi. “I’ll come.”