#Oh to fall into the clutches of a fandom out of complete nowhere (it’s been threatening to strike for months)

[gecko998]

He was never meant to be there

he was only ever meant to watch

[alicewritingstories]

Whumptober 2024 Fills Part 2: Meeting and Memory

AO3

Fandom: Linked Universe

Central Character(s): Legend, Wild, and Sidon

No.2: TRUST ISSUES | Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)

No.4: HALLUCINATIONS | Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

No.15 Alt21: Survivor's Guilt

No.17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO | Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."

No.22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES | Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."

No.25: SURGERY | Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."

No.28: DENIAL | CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed."

No.30: RECOVERY | Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"

Warnings: Blood, injury, near-death, survivor's guilt, brief mention of suicide (confirming a character is not suicidal), past canonical character death.

---

Legend cut down the last of the attacking lizalfos and hurried over to the wounded hylian he'd just rescued, dismissing the magical shield he'd thrown up in front of the young man - boy, really; he barely looked older than Hyrule.

"Easy," he said. "I'll get you down. What's your name?"

The boy looked up from where he was clutching at the spear pinning him to a tree. He opened his mouth to reply, but all that made it out was a nasty wet cough and a gout of blood. His tunic was more purple than blue and a mixture of black and red blood was matted in his long fair hair.

Legend knew that if someone was impaled it was dangerous to remove the thing impaling them, but he couldn't leave the kid like that. He was already clearly slipping into shock, the color gone from his face, his eyes drifting out of focus. If he passed out and sagged against the spear, it would get much worse.

Legend let out a huff of breath and snatched up one of the lizalfos' jagged blades.

"Hold it as steady as you can," he told the kid, then sawed through the shaft of the spear in a few quick strokes. That would make things a little easier, at least.

The boy whimpered softly, another mouthful of blood spilling from his lips.

"OK, I'm going to cut the shaft behind you." Legend caught the boy's chin and looked him in the eye. "This will hurt. Stay with me, OK? You're going to be fine."

"Get it… out?" the boy pleaded.

"I can't. It'll do more damage coming out than it did going in. One of my friends can heal you, but we need to get you to him first and I can't get the spear out completely until then."

The boy whimpered again, turquoise eyes falling closed, but he didn't protest.

Legend took a deep breath, then slipped a hand down the boy's back, giving himself a bit of space between him and the tree. He winced as the boy whimpered, but moved as quickly as he could to cut the spear shaft and catch him as he collapsed, lowering him carefully to the ground.

"Still with me, Kid?" he asked.

"Still… still here." It was little more than a groan, but audible.

Legend snatched some bandages from his bag and started padding around the remains of the spear shaft, wincing as blood started to seep through the bandages almost at once.

"Stay with me," he kept saying. "You're going to be OK. You did great against those monsters; just stay with me."

The boy nodded, coughing up more blood.

How am I going to get him back to camp? I can't carry him, not with that pole in his guts…

"What's your name?"

"Link."

Legend froze for a moment, wondering if he'd heard correctly, his eyes flying back to his companion's face.

His new brother's face.

"Well…" he said with a laugh that sounded a little hysterical in his own ears. "How about that? My friends and I have been looking all over for you."

Link's eyes had focussed and he was frowning, but then he forced a smile. "How come?" he asked, his voice a little high. "Looking for your bananas back?"

Legend went back to bandaging, his heart beating a little faster. If Link was already getting delirious, he must have lost even more blood than Legend had thought. Perhaps he was bleeding internally too.

Link squirmed slightly with a moan and Legend quickly moved to hold him down.

"Keep still!" he said, trying not to snap and not quite succeeding. "Moving around might cause more damage."

Link looked at him, eyes wide and dark with pain and fear.

"You're going to be OK," said Legend, starting to wonder which of them he was trying to reassure. Maybe a good, loud blast on an ocarina would serve as a signal whistle. "You're going to be OK. I'm going to get you to my friend and he'll heal you. Just stay with me."

Link laughed: a shrill, deranged sound. "No chance!" he said.

With another groan of pain, he snatched a small glowing block of carved stone from a holster on his belt, tapped it twice, and dissolved right under Legend's hands into tendrils of blue light.

Legend stared at the bloody grass where he'd lain for a moment, then buried his face in his hands with a stream of curses. All he could hope was that Link had at least teleported to somewhere someone could help him.

~~~

The shrine jump deposited Link gently on his feet, but as soon as he had fully materialized he collapsed to his knees, clutching at the spear shaft still running through his body.

"Help!" he cried as loudly as he could. "Someone, help!"

Here in Zora's Domain, he knew he was as safe as he could be anywhere. They had the best healers and this was the home of one of his closest friends. He was just grateful he'd been able to get his Slate into his hand before the yiga had realized what he was doing; it would have been easy to restrain him. Holding him down had clearly taken no effort at all. It didn't make sense that someone who wanted him dead had defended him from the lizalfos and saved his life, but he didn't want to find out why the assassin might have wanted to bring him in alive.

Suddenly he was lying on the ground, unsure how he got there. Maybe he'd blacked out for a moment. "Help!" he cried again before breaking down into another coughing fit, trying not to panic at the thick, metallic taste of blood on his tongue.

Finally, he heard running footsteps, the splash of someone wading through the pool that surrounded the shrine.

"Link!" cried a familiar voice. "What happened? Someone go and get Prince Sidon!"

"Bazz…" Link reached out vaguely and one of the Zora guard's large hands closed around his.

"It's going to be OK. We'll have you healed in no time."

Link nodded with a sigh. At least here he was safe.

After that, things were a blur for a while. He was aware of being lifted and carried, a vague impression of Sidon frantically calling his name, the bitter taste of a hearty elixir being forced down his throat, the cool touch of healing magic.

"Mipha?" he called softly before he was even aware he was doing it, pulled back for a moment to those mercifully-few times during his quest when he once more died on the battlefield and Mipha's Grace had brought him back to life. "Mipha?"

He knew she was gone. He knew he didn't really remember her as anything but a gentle presence dragging him back from the edge. But the feeling of dying and her magic washing through him was so familiar he couldn't fully believe it. She was still here. Surely, she hadn't abandoned him entirely.

Another blur. Voices, hands turning him this way and that, bandages wound tight around his body.

Finally, it all settled. He was wrapped in blankets, lying on a soft waterbed, and when he opened his eyes he was surrounded by the soft glow of Zora's Domain.

"Link!" Sidon lunged into his field of vision. "Are you awake? What happened?"

"I'm awake." Link sighed and started trying to shove himself upright. Sidon slipped a large hand behind his back to support him.

"Be careful. You're healed, but only just and the healers said you were to rest at least another day. You lost a lot of blood."

Link nodded, settling back as Sidon arranged his pillows to support him. He examined the Zora's face as he sat back. Zora couldn't cry the way hylians did, but Sidon's usual huge grin was nowhere to be seen and the muscles around his eyes and mouth were tense. That was as much an indication of his feelings as tear tracks would have been.

"I'm sorry," said Link, not sure what else to say. "I didn't know where else to go."

Sidon shook his head. "Link, I told you you would always be welcome. I'm honored you came to us for help."

Link smiled, relaxing his head back against the pillows. "I knew I was safe here," he said with a sigh. After a moment, he explained, "I had another close call with the yiga clan."

Sidon let out a little huff of breath. "A close call? You had a spear shaft through your whole body," he said, his voice raw. "The healers said that with the force it must have taken to drive it through like that you must have been pinned to something. I'm… just glad you were able to get free. And I'm glad you managed to do some bandaging. You'd bled right through, but it bought you a little bit of time. Even so… I think they were worried you wouldn't survive the surgery to remove it… What… To impale you like that… I didn't think that's what they did."

Link shook his head a little. "It's even stranger than that. The spear was from a lizalfos. The yiga could have just left me to the monsters or taken my Slate so I couldn't escape and then stood and watched me bleed out. He killed them, then he got me down and he was the one who started bandaging the wounds." He shivered.

Sidon's expression hardened. "Why change now?" he asked. "They've never tried to take you alive before."

"I don't know. That's what worries me." Link sighed. "He never dropped his disguise, either. He took care of me and insisted that he could get me to a healer. I suppose he hoped that would mean I wouldn't put up a fight, but it was so strange… I might have been convinced if he hadn't slipped for a moment when he found out who I am." He didn't like the thought that the yiga clan's acting was improving and he couldn't shake the memory of the concern in his would-be kidnapper's eyes. It had all seemed so genuine. He had wanted to trust him and accept his help. "I… suppose Zelda and I will have to be even more careful." Much more careful and they wouldn't talk to anyone they didn't already know. He bit his lip, feeling trapped. He loved Zora's Domain, but he didn't want to live a life in which there really was nowhere else he could go to truly be safe and comfortable.

The defeat of Calamity Ganon had been supposed to bring him some peace.

"We'll get word to Zelda. In the meantime, don't worry too much," said Sidon, patting Link's shoulder. "You're safe here for as long as you need."

Link smiled. "Thank you," he said fervently.

Sidon squeezed his shoulder, then let go and sat back in his chair with a sigh, looking up at the ceiling. Link couldn't help noticing that he still looked tired and stressed.

"Is anything else wrong?" he asked. "Is there anything I can do?"

Sidon winced, rubbing his eyes. "It's just… You called for Mipha while we were healing you. It… made me think of her, that's all."

Link looked at his hands. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"No, no, you have nothing to be sorry for," said Sidon quickly, lunging forward to enfold both of Link's hands in one of his. "I… I'm sure she'd be happy to know… that you got some comfort from thinking of her."

Link sighed. From what he'd been told and the few scraps he had for himself, that was probably true.

"I barely remember her, Sidon," he said sadly. "I want to. And for a while, during my quest… she was there. Her spirit was with me. She saved me… so many times. But now she's at rest and… I'm still here." He looked down at the large red hand wrapped around his. "It… seems so unfair that I'm still here and she's not."

Sidon squeezed his hand. "Link?"

He looked up. His friend's expression was stricken.

"You don't… want to die, do you?"

Link shook his head. "No, no, not at all. No, I just… I'm not even sure what I mean. I just feel it sometimes: that she was there so many times to save me but when it mattered… I wasn't there for her. I lived and she died and even after she died she kept bringing me back to life. It… feels wrong."

Sidon looked down for a moment, then said quietly, "I barely remember her either. I was so young when she died. But I remember her patience and her kindness and… I think she'd have been happy at least one of the other Champions lived. And I think she'd want you to keep living. Really living."

Link sighed. "I know. I know it doesn't make sense. It's just… while she was here as a spirit… she was still alive in some way. Even if just in me. And now she's gone. It's just… that's why I was calling for her, I suppose. I miss her. Even though I hardly know her. And I wish… I wish I did. She seems like someone I… would like to know."

Maybe even someone I would fall in love with.

"Maybe there's some part of you that does remember," said Sidon with a small, sad smile. He squeezed Link's hands, as if to reassure them both.

Link smiled back. "Maybe." He relaxed back against his pillows, looking up at the ceiling. Maybe he did remember the woman he might have been planning to marry. Maybe that's where this feeling of longing and loss came from.

He wasn't sure about that, but the idea was something.

"Thank you, Sidon. For everything."

Sidon chuckled, not quite his usual laugh but close. "No, Link, thank you." He moved to pat Link's shoulder again.

"You want a hug, don't you?" asked Link, glancing at him.

Sidon didn't reply out loud, but the way his smile broadened slightly told Link what he needed to know and, with a smile of his own, he held out his arms. Sidon grabbed him and squeezed him hard enough to make him yelp out a laugh.

"When I heard the alarm and saw them carrying you up from the shrine, I feared the worst," said Sidon in his ear, his voice rough.

Link sighed. "I'm fine, thanks to you all."

"Good. And if I have any say in it, you'll stay that way. Don't worry about the yiga. You have plenty of friends to keep you and Zelda safe."

Link smiled, relaxing his head against his friend's shoulder. "Thank you."

[wylanvnneck]

This 2 part fic was written for the Secret Snusband Gift Giveaway hosted by @jurdannet​ and @jurdannetrevels​ for my lovely Knife Wife @lilacs-with-lavender​.

Rating: T for Tyrannosaurus

Summary: Inspired by an episode of my favourite Cop TV show, ‘Castle’, in which a bet takes place with pretty high stakes, although the plotline has been tweaked to fit this fandom. My Knife Wife said she loved the Enemies to Lovers trope so that’s what I’ve (tried to) write here and I hope you enjoy the story of Homicide Detectives Jude Duarte and Cardan Greenbriar and their mutual enmity.

Warnings: Not so graphic descriptions of murder and mention of drugs. (Really not sure what I need to tag, so please let me know if I’ve missed something.)

Posted as a Gift on AO3 | Part 2 | Masterlist

Part 1

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

“Victim’s name is Taryn Santorini, a metal sculptor by trade, she was found by her doorman fifteen minutes before we traced the address in Chloe’s hand back to her.” 

Detective Jude Duarte looks down at the motionless face of a scared looking brunette, a crimson splatter painting the tiled floor around her lifeless body. The room around her is a mess, clothes scattered everywhere, bed ruffled and unmade and metal figurines placed haphazardly throughout the little apartment.

“Lil, talk to me, what are we looking at?”

Before the white-blonde haired medical examiner crouched on the floor by the body can answer, a smooth dark voice that Jude so detests cuts through the air behind her.

“Why, Duarte, I’d say that the fact that Tara What’s-her-name was shot and killed is rather obvious.” The despicable excuse of a detective steps forward, a smug grin pasted to his face. Cardan Greenbriar, entitled little rich boy, over-confident bastard and sadly, her partner.

Patience, Jude reminds herself, patience was a virtue. 

“I meant, as I’m sure Lil knows, with what model was she killed and when?”

Liliver shoots her an amused sympathetic look before turning her gaze back to the victim.

“Looks to be a gun with a 45 caliber, same as the one used to kill Chloe Tatterfell. I’d say Taryn here has been dead for about 12 hours so pretty close to Chloe’s time of death, maybe just a half hour or so afterwards.”

“So chances are it’s the same killer.” Cardan interjects, the smug smile a little less vibrant now. 

“Yep. I’ll have to get her back to the morgue so  I can do a full inspection, see if I can find anything helpful.”

Jude steps back from the crime scene to give her some space, almost bumping in to the officer taking pictures of the area for later use. 

“Thanks, Lil.”

“Just doing my job, sweetie.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Jude clips a glossy picture of their latest victim onto the precinct’s murder board. “Garrett and Van questioned practically all known associates of both Chloe and Taryn and none of them could recognise the other victim. There’s no obvious connection between the two and yet, for some reason they were both killed on the same day, by the same person.”

“And with the same gun.” Cardan is leaning back in his chair, his posture insouciant and his curly black hair falling lazily over his forehead. Surely that was a violation of precinct dress codes? Not that he’d care either way, rule breaker that he was. God knew it was only because of his daddy’s clout that he’d even graduated from the academy in the first place, whilst people like Jude had to work hard and save every penny and fight to get anywhere in the field of Law Enforcement.

“Ok, I’m going to head to the morgue whilst Van and Gare check through the victim’s phones and financials, see if Lil has anything for us.”

“I suppose, being the dutiful partner that I am, I should come with you?” Cardan’s drawl is as irritating as usual and Jude can hardly wait to get out of the proximity of his stupid raven locks and smoldering eyes.

“Please, you’d be doing us both a favour if you didn’t.”

“Aw, come now Jude you know you’d miss me.” He lets out a dramatic sigh as he half heartedly stands from his chair to join her as she speeds by towards the exit and she just barely resists the urge to throttle him.

Lil bustles around her examining room as she adjusts the fluorescent lamps shining down on both the victim’s bodies’. 

“So, apart from the type of bullets that killed them, the only similarity that I could find between the two victims is the fact that they both have tattoos.”

Jude raises a brow. “Everyone has tattoos.”

From across the autopsy table Cardan’s eyes gleam as he smirks. 

“Oh really? You got some ink on you, Duarte?” 

His tone is disbelieving and Jude can’t resist messing with him a little.

She pastes an obviously fake flirtatious smile on her face and drawls in a sugar sweet voice, “Guess you’d have to find that out on your own, Greenbriar.” 

She bites at her lip for good measure and thinks once more of how bad she would be at flirting in earnest. Lil certainly couldn’t keep the laughter out of her gray eyes. Cardan, however, has a strange look on his face, one that Jude can’t quite decipher, but she’s pretty sure she’s just one-upped him and she can’t deny the slight sense of triumph that the thought gives her.

 She turns her attention back to the victims. “You were saying, Lil?” 

“I’m saying that these tattoos seem to have been done by the same artist. Look,” she pulls back the white cloth covering the body of Chloe Tatterfell, gently pushing a strand of brown hair off of her shoulder to reveal the cartoonish character of a rose, inked in with dark black ink.

She then turns to Taryn’s body to reveal a similarly styled tattoo of a mermaid on her wrist. Just as she’s pulling back the cover Jude’s back pocket vibrates and the sound of her plain ringtone travels through the air. Quickly she swipes upwards to answer the call and it’s Garrett.

“Yo, so we looked through the victims’ phone records and found a connection. Both Chloe and Taryn made a phone call on the day that they were killed to the same number, belonging to a Locke McCutchins, he’s got priors including robberies and domestic assault.”

By the time he’s finished speaking she’s already waved a quick goodbye to Lil and turned to walk out the door, not bothering to check if her partner was behind her.

“Alright, text me his address, let’s go pick him up.”

“Locke McCutchins, open up, it’s the NYPD!” Garrett bangs on the door and the force is so strong that the wood vibrates as Jude clutches her pistol in her hand, body flat against the wall of Locke’s apartment with Cardan right beside her.

There’s no answer and the door is broken down as she, Cardan, Garrett and Van file into the room in a practiced motion that’s as familiar to her as breathing.

Right in front of them, sprawled across his couch, lies the dead body of Locke McCutchin, his tawny eyes still open and gazing unseeingly up at his ceiling, a dried red patch visible on his shirt.

Garret drops to the floor beside the couch, his sandy hair falling over his face as he leans over to check Locke’s pulse whilst the rest of them look on after having taken note that the apartment was clear.

“Body’s cold, he’s been dead for hours, entry wound looks to be about the same size as the other victims.”

Jude scrunches her eyebrows as she stands in front of the murderboard for the second time that day.

“So, Chloe Tatterfell, Taryn Santorini and Locke McCuchins were all killed within the span of 24 hours, all with the same gun, presumably by the same killer and yet so far the only connections we’ve found are Taryn’s address that was found written on Chloe’s hand, the phone call from both women to Locke and the similar tattoos on both Chloe and Taryn, but not on Locke.”

“Hmm.” Cardan seems to materialise out of nowhere, carrying a paper cup of what smells like freshly brewed coffee. Jude was convinced that he took his coffee with added alcohol but she had yet to prove it.

“What’s with the glare?” he asks.

“It automatically deploys itself when you're around.”

He scoffs. Twirls his coffee around. Takes a long, slurping sip.

“Hey, Duarte? Don’t get me wrong, I mean, the feeling is mutual, but what exactly is it that makes you despise me so much? I’d like to know so I can make sure to keep doing it.” 

Jude barely deliberates over her answer before she responds. 

“Being an overly cocky, obnoxious jerk who has only managed to get this far thanks to his Daddy’s fat purse will definitely be the best way to make me hate you, trust me.”

He grins but there’s no humour in the curve of his sensual lips, his eyes are cold metal.

“You think that the only reason I’m a detective is because of my father?”

“Yup.” She makes sure to add plenty of emphasis to that one word.

Cardan opens his mouth as if to speak, stops, presses his lips together so hard that they turn pale before the colour returns to them when a slow smile spreads across his face, this time full of humour, but the decidedly darker kind.

“Let’s make a bet. If you can figure out what the connection between our three victims is before I do, I’ll go right up to Captain Madoc myself and request a change of partners so you can be rid of my ‘overly cocky, obnoxious’ self. Deal?” 

He was extending a challenge and Jude was never one to back down from those. Besides, the chance to be rid of him with no cost to herself or her reputation was too good to pass up on. Still, there had to be a catch, with Cardan, there was always a catch.

“And on the complete off-chance that you figure it out first? What happens then?”

“If I figure it out first...you have to come with me as my date to this party that my dad’s having in a couple days.”

Those last few words come out in a rush and Jude has to take a moment to decipher their meaning. Followed by another moment to wonder if she’d somehow completely misunderstood what he’d said.

“You want me to what?”

“Be my date to a party. Honestly Duarte, do you have any idea how many women would jump at this opportunity?” His tone is disgustingly nonchalant. 

“I-” she struggles to find the words. “Take one of them then! Don’t you have a girlfriend, Nicasia or something like that? Blue hair and eyes? High pitched voice? Talks a lot about how much she gets seasick?”

“You know, for someone who’s only met Nicasia once you do remember quite a bit about her.” His steady gaze on her is intense.

For some incorrigible reason Jude has to resist the urge to flush.

“I’m a detective. It’s my job to study people.”

“Right. Sadly, Nicasia and I are no longer together, if we ever were. I got bored. Hence, why I need a date.”

“I’m sure you could just take one of your scores of female admirers, you don’t need me.”

“Is that jealousy that I detect in your voice?”

“Cardan.” 

“Look, the point is, I can’t be bothered having to deal with yet another simpering female who thinks that one night on my arm means a promise to a life-long relationship complete with marriage, a fancy mansion and exactly 2.5 kids. All I want is a companion for one night so I don’t get hounded by my mother for not having a girlfriend by which she can procure some grandchildren.”

“Oh so now you want me to be your fake girlfriend?”

He rolls his eyes up at the ceiling and she fights the urge to slap him. 

“It’s just for one night! Besides, I thought me winning was barely even a possibility to you.”

She makes a noise at the back of her throat. “It is.”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is. Do we have a deal, or not?” He holds out his hand, sculpted eyebrows raised in confrontation.

She doesn’t really think he has much of a chance of figuring it out before her, but he had admittedly also proven adept at figuring certain things out in previous cases so there was definitely no certainty that he wouldn’t win, for all her bravado. Yet, her competitive nature couldn’t bear the thought of surrendering, so she pushes her unease aside and grips his hand in a firm shake. 

“Deal.” 

There’s an awkward moment when he takes a little too long to release her hand from his grip. Once he finally does, the rather pointy tips of his ears reddening, they both turn back to the murder board and the view of their murder time line and crime scene pictures, furiously trying to connect the dots in their heads.

A random thought intrudes in her brain.

"Wait, what if Garrett and Van figure it out before we do?”

As one, she and Cardan both turn towards the opposite side of the office where the two officers in question sat in front of their computers.

Van was typing in data on his computer, eyes glazing over and the tuft of black hair atop his head trembling whilst Garrett, or, The Ghost - as he was sometimes called thanks to his tendency to take months before answering non-work related messages - stood eating glazed donuts with one hand and speaking to someone on the phone held in the other. Jude loved the both of them but she had to admit that they didn’t exactly paint the most inspiring picture. 

Once again she and Cardan are in sync when they promptly turn back towards the murderboard and proclaim, “Nah.”

Van’s excitement is clearly written on his face when he walks straight up to Jude’s desk the moment she arrives at the precinct the next morning, slamming down a manila folder with the NYPD crest printed on it onto her neatly arranged table top.

Immediately she reaches out to open it, desperate for a break in the case that would not only put a three time killer behind bars but also ensure that she herelf wouldn’t commit murder if she lost the bet and had to pretend to be Cardan’s girlfriend for a night. The thought makes her want to shudder.

“So, I was looking into all of our victim’s financials and I noticed an anomaly. Two weeks ago on the 7th they each deposited 95 hundred dollars into their savings accounts, but we’ve got no way of tracing the money back because the amount is under the IRS’s investigative limit” Van takes a quick pause before continuing, “but that’s not all, both Taryn and Chloe have credit card charges for small amounts at a tattoo place called Fair Folk Inks down in Queens.”

“Great, that’d be the place where they both got tattoos, I’ll go down there and ask the owner a couple questions, thanks Van.” She puts the sheaf of financial accounts back into the folder and takes a quick swig of her usual morning coffee, black, no sugar before preparing to head out once more.  

“Going somewhere, partner?” 

She’d bumped straight into Cardan when stepping into the elevator and she lets out a small groan of frustration as she steps back from his sturdy form. He looks annoyingly chipper, usual cocky smile in place and laughter in his tone as he looks down at her slightly shorter self. His cologne is strong and emanates the scent of the woods and sunlight in the small elevator. The woods and sunlight? Clearly foregoing the rest of her morning coffee hadn’t been a good idea.

She’d thought she could make it out of the building before he finally arrived, necessitating in having to take him along as well, but clearly fate had other ideas. 

“Tattoo parlour. Queens,” she grits out.

“Let’s go then,” his tone is sickly sweet.

“Hi there, you guys lookin’ to get inked?” asks the pink haired girl behind the counter in fishnet tights and a tank top, looking up from where she is perched on a stool behind the counter when she hears them enter.

The parlour itself is shiny and white, the smooth metal counter and two spaced out black leather tattoo chairs complete with wheeled stools are the only pieces of furniture in the small space. Mounted on the walls are designs, each of them evoking a sense of fantasy. A pixie there, a selkie here, an ornate dragon, all staring right back at Jude as she takes in their surroundings. She takes note of the fact that the pictures staring back at her were very reminiscent of Chloe and Taryn’s tattoos, solidifying her suspicion that this was where they had got them done.

Before she has time to explain the reason for their visit, Cardan pipes up.

“You know, I’ve been thinking of getting one of a slithering snake, maybe across my back? I believe it would add to my already abundant sex appea-”

“Actually,” Jude cuts him off with her most scathing glare, to which he irritatingly responds with a grin. “We’re here on official business, NYPD, we need to speak with the owner of this establishment.” She holds up the badge that she’s just extracted from her plain black wallet as she speaks.

“That would be Vivi, hang tight a sec I’ll go get her.” With a sway of her hips Heather trounces off behind a curtained section at the back of the parlour. 

Unable to stand still for even a few moments, her partner has already wandered over to the corner of the room, pointing at a pinned up design, ““That goblin over there reminds me of Van.”

She ignores him. 

“Oh come on Duarte, you have to admit, there’s a definite resemblance.”

She spares the quickest of glances at the design and it’s true, there’s a striking similarity, but she isn’t about to give him the satisfaction of agreeing so she simply makes a non-committal grunt of recognition.

“Tell me, are you always this tightly wound or is it just for the majority of your day?”

“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows have inadvertently traveled upwards on her face and she can’t believe he has the audacity to say what he just did, although really, she shouldn’t be so surprised.

“Come on Duarte, we’ve been partners for quite a while now and I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you laugh.” He’s standing a few feet away from her, his expression serious, not backing down.

“It’s called being professional.” She can feel the muscles working in her face as she hisses out the words through gritted teeth, blood pounding furiously. 

“Ahem.” She whirls around to find a tall bronze haired woman with striking cat-like eyes that were currently meeting her gaze wearing a lazy look of amusement.  

“Heather said there were some policemen who wanted to ask me some questions?”

Jude cannot believe that she had just gotten so sidetracked by her insolent partner that she’d forgotten why she was currently standing in the middle of a Tattoo parlour in Queens, clutching a set of regular sized close ups of three now dead people. She tamps down the irritation at her own actions as she thrusts out the photos in front of the woman facing her, Vivi, the pink haired girl had said.

“Yes, ma’am, do you recognize these people?”

She watches intently as Vivi carefully peruses the pictures before answering, “I know the two girls, Taryn and Chloe, we’re friends, I’ve even tattooed the both of them. I’m not really sure who he is.”

“Are you sure you don’t know him? Look carefully.” Cardan is all business now, stepping up to Vivi.

“I’m sure.” Vivi’s tone is almost defiant, daring him to question her again.

“You said that you were friends with the girls, how close were you?” 

“They came into the tattoo parlour at the same time about a month ago and we started up a conversation, we exchanged numbers and would meet up for a drink from time to time.” 

“Did they ever meet up with just each other?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Can you think of any reason as to why they’d both be killed by the same person?”

“They’re...they’re dead?”

Jude had intentionally asked the question in a way that would require a reaction and she wasn’t sure that she was entirely convinced by the shocked undertone of Vivi’s voice.

 “I’m afraid so, ma’am.”

“She’s hiding something.” Once again Jude is back in front of the murderboard, furiously capping and uncapping a whiteboard marker as her mind whirls. She’s full of nervous energy, on the brink of a precipice and she wants nothing more than to be able to push herself off of it.

“Agreed.” Cardan is pacing the floor between her and the murder board and his posture indicates that he’s just as worked up as she is.

“But what I can’t understand is why she would kill two of her acquaintances plus a random vending machine operator, I mean, there’s no clear motive.” She’s barely conscious of the slight pain that tingles as she worries at her bottom lip.

Cardan halts in front of the board, takes a hard look at the scrawled timeline on it before once more resuming his brisk walk.

 “And what the hell is the connection between these three victims? They lived in opposite neighbourhoods, worked in completely different areas and fields, never seemed to have been in the same place at the same time and yet somehow they were killed by the same hand. Also, where did all that money come from?” 

His phone chooses precisely that moment to start ringing and the sound of ‘Horns’ by Bryce Fox cuts through the tension. 

“It’s Liliver,” he mouths as he swipes upwards to answer and puts the medical examiner on speaker phone.

“You got something for us Lil?’

“You bet I do. I had scraps from the victims’ clothings tested to try and find a common link. What I found were traces of bleach, acetone, sodium chloride and ammonia.”

“Drugs. They were making drugs. That would explain all the money.” Jude is burning and luminescent with victory, until Lili’s next words cut her down.

“It’s not drugs.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because of what isn’t there. If your vics were making drugs, there’d need to be a couple more ingredients. That being said, they were definitely up to something.”

She lets out a sigh of defeat. “Thanks, Lil.”

Cardan hangs up before bringing his fingers up to his temples, massaging the sides of his head as he burns a hole into the board in front of him.

Jude bites back a scream. “This is like the start of a bad joke, a teacher, a sculptor and a vending machine operator walk into a tattoo parlour…”

He scoffs, “Yeah, except we don’t really have a punchline.”

“Other than ‘they made a bunch of money and got themselves killed.’”

There’s a lull in the air and the frustration is palpable. There was so much more than just their bet at stake here, there was the need for justice for these three victims, who regardless of their crimes likely didn’t deserve what had befallen them. Besides, there was no way that they could let a ruthless killer roam the streets freely.

Suddenly, Cardan whirls around to face her, once again bringing his pacing to an abrupt stop, with a speed to rival that of the animal that was his tattoo inspiration.

“Made a bunch of money,” he repeats. 

He sounds like he’s just jumped off of the precipice. She, on the other hand, remained firmly mounted to the ground. 

“What?”

“A sculptor who works with metal, a chemist and a vending machine operator...I know what they were up to.”

Slowly, the light starts to dawn on her and her pulse speeds up. Yes, she thinks.

“Think about it, when counterfeiting money, what’s the biggest problem you face? Finding the paper,” he continues.

“And a vending machine operator would have an endless supply of one dollar billls!”

“Exactly, then the chemist would come in, using the chemicals that were found on the vic’s bodies to white wash those bills.”

“And then the sculptor would be able to fashion a set of metal plates with which to type in fake serial numbers’ so they can get larger denominations of money…”

“Right! So, plates, paper, there’s just one missing ingredient.”

Beaming smiles break out on both their faces when, in unison they reach the same conclusion. 

The 12th Precinct’s interrogation room had contained many suspects from the time it was built. Some were innocent and some were guilty, but there was no doubt in both Jude and Cardan’s minds that the feline woman currently seated across from them with her legs up on the table was one hundred percent guilty. 

“So you think you’ve figured it all out, huh?” Vivi’s drawl is deceptively flippant.

“I think so.” Jude answers calmly. “For instance, we’ve figured out that you were involved in and likely the mastermind behind a counterfeiting operation that raked in a substantial amount of money. You provided the last ingredient needed, the ink from your tattoo parlour stocks that was used to print on the bills.”

Cardan leans forward. “We’ve also surmised that you killed your partners in said operation; Taryn Santorini and Chloe Tatterfell, both of whom you met through your tattoo parlour, just like you said.”

“And our third victim, Locke McCutchins? Yeah, we know he was your cousin, once removed on your mother’s side wasn’t it? A distant enough relationship for you to not be flagged when checking his family, but close enough for you to enlist him in your scheme so you had access to vending machine bills.” Jude continues, she and Cardan having perfected the art of interrogating together ages ago, their tactics working smoothly together alongside each other. 

Vivienne sneers. “So what? You have no proof.”

“On the contrary, ma’am, we do. You neglected to hide the metal plates that you got Taryn to make for you in a place that wasn’t under a loose floorboard of your room, easily found with the aid of a search warrant.” Cardan smiles.

“You also tripped up when you stored your used gun with matching ballistics to the weapon that killed our victims in the same place as the plates.” Cardan’s smile is copied on Jude’s face.

Vivi’s skin pales and her cat’s eyes narrow into slits as she bangs the table, hard, before slouching back in the metal chair, the fight leaving her.

“Well, I suppose the jig is up, as they say,” she drawls.

Satisfied, Jude stands up and gathers the notepad and pen that she’d left on the desk and then bends over the interrogation table to meet Vivi’s gaze.

“What I can’t understand, though, is why? Why would you kill them if you’d already paid them?”

The Accused smirks. “It was all that idiot Lockes’s fault. He’d gotten himself into debt with some mob shark and needed more dough to bail his sorry self out. I wasn’t about to give it, he had his cut and that was all. But then, he threatened to go to the cops and tell them about what we did. Couldn’t let that happen, so I figured I’d kill ‘em all of. Just to be safe.”

The casual way in which she speaks of her deeds chills Jude to the bone. Wordlessly, she turns her back on yet another cold hearted murderer and exits the room with Cardan right behind her.

They come to a stop in front of the now empty murderboard, its surface shiny and white, devoid of words, but not for long. There was always a murder happening somewhere or the other, Jude had been a detective long enough to know that.

“So, now that Vivienne Insmire, tattoo artist, mastermind and ink supplier of counterfeiting operations and killer of ‘friends’ and distant male cousins is safely behind bars, I think you and I have a certain matter to settle, Duarte.”

She’d been trying hard to avoid this moment all day, pushing back thoughts of her close defeat and what its consequences would be. It seemed like now, she'd run out of time. She gulps.

“I suppose-” she almost can’t bring herself to say the words, “I suppose you won our bet, then.”

“Yup.” He’s not even trying to hide his gloating, “and you know what that means.”

The noise she emits is one that is resigned. She knows what’s coming.

“I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow.”

“Or I could just take a ca-”

“Don’t be late, Duarte,” he calls over his shoulder as he leisurely strolls towards the precinct exit, slinging his leather jacket over his shoulder.

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

If you’ve made it all the way down here, congrats! Here’s a link for part 2.

Tagging the lovely people on my short but treasured TFOTA taglist; @cupcakesandkittens​ (who helped immensely during the writing of this fic and who suggested adding in the interrogation scene❤) and my very own talented Secret Snusband, @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to or taken off of my taglist💕

[sherlollydramoine]

Buzzkill

Prompt 27: “give me that”

Fandom: The Pacific/HBO War - Modern AU

Pairing: Dad!Snafu 

Word Count: 1154

Warnings: Honestly, this is just pure comedy. 

For my loyal readers, please accept this as an apology for the super angsty piece that I posted yesterday that may have broken a few hearts.

Fun fact: This exact scenario actually happened to me when my son was about four. Oh the joys of parenting!

Special shout out to @edteche2 and @diasimar for the assistance and suggestions. I hope that this is as funny for y’all as it was for me.

Also I only chose this GIF because this is the exact face I imagine Snaf making when he realizes what is going on.

“Baby girl where are you?” he called out looking for his daughter. They had been playing a game of hide and seek which was interrupted by a phone call that he had to take. Now his daughter was nowhere to be found as she was an excellent hider just like he’d been as a child. He’d searched everywhere that she usually chose to hide. She wasn’t in the living room, her room, the kitchen, or the backyard and he was about to freak out thinking she’d been kidnapped by some creep when the sounds of giggling and an odd buzzing sound hit him which was vaguely in the direction of his bedroom.

As he approaches his room curious to know what could be bringing his daughter so much glee he tries to mentally prepare himself for anything. She was a wild child and the odd noise he was hearing could be from the hair clippers that he kept in the main bathroom; Lizzy was obsessed with them and had cut half of her hair off once with them. 

Upon his approach to the bedroom, the buzzing sound gets louder and is accompanied by the gleeful shouts of his daughter yelling “Take that!” and “Buzz off bad pirate guy!”

The second he crossed the threshold into his room, his jaw went slack as he caught sight of his four-year-old daughter jumping on his bed, her wild curls flying in all directions with her tiara firmly on her head, clutching her mother’s large bright purple vibrator in her tiny hand. There is nothing he could have done to prepare him for this as the shock rolls across his face. 

“What are you doing in here baby girl?” he asks, which startles his daughter out of her fantasy world causing her to yelp in surprise. She stumbles backward and nearly falls off the bed, as he rushes forward to catch her.

She narrows her eyes at her father in irritation as she hauls herself back up to resume her bed jumping while waving her mother’s sex toy around.

“I asked you a question little darling, what are you doing in here?” he asks again.

She glances back over at her father, still bouncing excitedly as she launches into her explanation.

“Arrrrrgh I’m a pirate daddy. I have a magic purple sword. See?” she stops bouncing for a moment and holds up the object that has quit buzzing momentarily so her father could get a closer look. Snafu was truly at a loss for words, not sure exactly how to respond to this. There was nothing in anything he’d ever read about parenting that tells people how to deal with this kind of situation. Sweat began beading on his brow and swipes at his face in embarrassment and frustration as she continues her explanation,” I’m fighting away the bad guys by stabbing them with my magical purple sword that shoots laser beams out of the end. I just have to push this magic button,” she says pointing at the power button on the toy,” and then it activates but you better watch out daddy or the laser beam is going to get you.”

He watches in horror as she pushes the power button on the toy making it resume its vibrations. Lizzy giggles at the sensation against her hand as she returns to bouncing on the bed swatting at the air as he can do nothing but watch in absolute anguish. His sweet innocent daughter, casually playing with a device meant for absolute sin completely clueless as to the intended use for the large purple object.

Running his fingers through his hair forcing himself to take a few deep calming breaths. She’s only four; she has no clue what the object in her hand really is. His mouth turns down into a deep frown until his daughter whirls around on him pressing the tip of the buzzing object into his nose. His mouth falling open into an ‘O’ as the sensations tickle his nose, in absolute shock that his daughter would brazenly press the object into his face. 

“Arrrggggg… I’m Lizzy the Fiercest Unicorn Princess Pirate on the High Seas, and you daddy are accused of high treason for stealing my cookies so you have to walk the plank or die by magic laser beam!”

Throwing his hands up in mock surrender he backs away from her resisting the urge to grab the whirring object out of her hands so that he can put it away somewhere more secure.

“I’m Daddy the Pirate, the Meanest Strongest Pirate on the High Seas, and I demand to know where you got your magic purple laser beam sword!” his eyes sparkling with amusement as he knows exactly where she retrieved it from and he mentally chides himself for not fixing the lock on the drawer when his wife asked him to a month ago. If he wants to get the object away from his daughter without causing a massive tantrum all he has to do is play her game until he can spin things in his favor.

“Arrrrgggghhh… I’ll never tell you that! I’ll die before I reveal my Unicorn Princess Pirate secrets but I will tell you there is a blue one in a drawer that looks similar to this one if you want to fight to the death but the blue one doesn’t have magic laser beam powers,” she informs him, pointing to the bedside table on his wife’s side of the bed, her blue-green eyes sparkling clearly enjoying her game. 

How long was she in that drawer for? Wait, what the hell else is in that drawer? Oh my God! My wife is gonna kill me! I’m fixing that damn lock tonight! 

When his jaw dropped and his hands fell down to his sides, he realized he had to think fast. Somehow his four year old had maintained the upper hand through this little game.

“Arrrgghhh... Hard bargain you be driving there Miss Lizzy the Fiercest Unicorn Pirate Princess on the High Seas, but how about we go to McDonald’s to sign a peace treaty? First, though, all you have to do is give me that pretty purple laser beam sword,” he offers.

Her bouncing stops, as she contemplates his offer before letting out a squeal of delight that nearly bursts his eardrums. His daughter never failing to surprise him tosses the still buzzing vibrator at his face as she jumps down off the bed and sprints out the door. He stumbles backward in pain, clutching at his face hoping that he wasn’t bleeding as the offending object thuds on the hardwood floor at his feet happily still buzzing as it slowly makes its way under the bed. 

Ascertaining that he wasn’t bleeding and his nose wasn’t broken he bends down to pick up the fallen vibrator switching the power off and then hiding it on the top shelf of the closet. His wife was either going to kill him or laugh her ass off at him when she hears about this misadventure. 

“Lizzy you better be getting your shoes on because we’re leaving!”

@xmxisxforxmaybe @ramimedley @stewielover95 @safinsscar @itswormtrain @r-ahh-mi @itslula1991 @w0lfglrl17​ @txmel​ @hazeleyedbeth​ @flipper-kisses​ @itsme690​ @the-real-ramimalekpeen​ @alottanothing​

[stellar-imagines]

SCENARIO REQUEST: ❝unseen.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Todoroki Shouto ]

「Todoroki falls in love with you who has a chaos quirk but what he doesn’t know is that you’re also in love with him.」

TODOROKI SHOUTO

"Doesn't that mean you like her?"

Todoroki had been a bit concerned over the feeling churning inside him whenever he was with you. His heart races when he sees you. He can't lie to himself anymore, there's always this rush of joy spreading all over his body that makes him feel more alive and adds color to his world. Deciding to confide to Midoriya, Uraraka and Iida was a good choice. They made him realize this feeling inside him. He recalled all the times he thought he was feeling odd around and it turned our that he was really just lonely, and want to involve himself with you.

After labeling these feelings of his, he was warned that he would experience other feelings as well. And they were completely right. At times he can and will be selfish. Sometimes he just wants you all to himself and will be envious of anyone that were overly friendly with you. His body gets electrified by your slightest touch and skin contact that it almost scares him. Even so, he craves for it. He's scared of his own feelings, of what if it knows no limit and of losing you one day and ruining the little something right now between you two. 

Todoroki always thought that your quirk was a really strong one, he had seen it in action countless of times and the destructive power it held was beyond what he imagined. So, he expected you to be very stuck up and confident with your powers. But you weren't like that. You were aware of your own weaknesses and you're never afraid to admit it out loud. He's fascinated by how you use your quirk every time. The colors that emit from your palms reminded him fire but it flowed more freely like mist.

He's not the best at making friends because he came off as a bit cold in the beginning so he believes that you think he's a bit scary unfriendly and aloof. Todoroki admits that he wasn't really friendly during his first few months in UA but he is certain that he had changed a lot, everyone says that to you.Just like everyone else in the class, you just warmed up to him without him having to do anything. You were friendly and thoughtful to everyone, always putting others before yourself. He doesn't admire you for your quirk but also for your kind nature.

At the very moment, Class 1-A was having a barbecue party just because. The summer air was cool and crisp in contrast to the heat coming from the grill. Todoroki was standing by the grill, munching on some meat while he kept his gaze on the ingredients sitting atop the grill. He was helping with starting the fire and now that he's done with his job, he was left standing there. The male's gaze traveled to you who's sitting all alone, poking marshmallows through sticks.

"[Last Name]-san."

"Oh, Todoroki-kun. Do you want some roasted marshmallows? I'm about to head over and make them." you waved some of the sticks in front of him. He just gave you a nod and watch as you head over to where the grill was. There were still people crowding the spot, cooking meat and whatnot. Out of kindness, you decided to back down and wait till they were done.

"I guess it can wait." you said out loud, mostly to yourself while making your way back. Todoroki motioned you over with his hand and you carefully slipped past your friends, stopping right in front of the boy who called you over.

"Sorry, Todoroki-kun, they're hogging the barbecue pit so I guess marshmallows would have to wait." you said. He shook his head, seeing how it was something that couldn't be helped.

"It's fine. We can just make it here." he spoke calmly, lifting his left hand. With curiosity evident in your [Eye Color] eyes, you had your gaze on his palm. Ever so slowly, flames began to form. It started small and gradually got into a size that was easy to work with. Your eyes lit up and a joyous gasp escaped your lips, clapping your hands in delight. Whenever it was outside of school, you rarely use your quirks and it actually feels that you're just normal students for once. 

Todoroki liked it. No, he loved seeing that smile on your face. The way your entire face radiated happiness made him smile a bit. You were sitting so close too, so close that he could smell your body wash so strongly.

"Oh! Amazing, Todoroki-kun." you smiled, moving the marshmallows over the fire that was dancing on top of his palm. 

The group standing by the grill were picking up the pieces of cooked meat and sharing them with those who were idly sitting and chatting with one another. Hands occupied by plates of meat, Kirishima set down the plates in front of the girls who thanked him for his hard work. He took a few moments to examine the current situation. The girls were talking about something that he doesn't really understand and that was when he realized that you weren't there. Kirishima then spotted you sitting together with Todoroki, eating roasted marshmallows together.

"I just knew that [Last Name] and Todoroki were that close." he said.

"What an unlikely pair." Asui commented after shifting her attention towards you.

"Well, Todoroki-san has become much friendlier than before and [Last Name] is just nice to anyone. So, I don't see anything odd from this." the one who speaks based on facts and her own observation, Yaoyorozu was able to say such things with ease. While they were talking about things, you and Todoroki approached them with hands full of roasted marshmallows.

"Hey guys! We made some roasted marshmallows, anyone want some?"

Everyone dismissed your closeness with Todoroki, thinking that it was a normal thing and ate the marshmallows you both made.

"Amazing, [First Name]! You can carry a person now!" Uraraka who was floating, clapped her hands excitedly. 

"Uhnn.....Don't talk to me right now, it's gonna ruin my concentration......" you narrowed your eyes at the brunette who was your text subject for today.

Hearing Uraraka calling you made Todoroki turn his attention towards you. There was Midoriya and Iida by your side, watching as you carried Ashido using your quirk. Your ability was an interesting one as you were able to produce reddish, glowing energy in mist-like shapes from your hands. It relies heavily on your concentration and mental strength. To put it simply, it was like telepathy. The bicolored haired male who had finished with his own training decided to join the small group of spectators. He turned to his green-haired friend first as he was the closest. Todoroki opened his mouth to speak but no words came out when he realized that his close friend was to immersed in taking notes.

"What is she trying to do?" Todoroki asked Iida instead.

"[Last Name]-kun is considering performing a feat she had never done before and that is levitating while carrying a few people!" the bespectacled male informed Todoroki. He watched in awe as you slowly lifted yourself up while Ashido was hovering in the air. Your feet left the ground gradually until you were at Ashido' and Uraraka's level.

"Uwah, you did it! If you can carry humans then heavy stuff will be a piece of cake for you!" Ashido said.

"It's a bit hard if you both keep flailing about though. Unlike dead objects, I need more concentration to lift up humans." you smiled tiredly, slowly descending and putting your friend back on their feet. You remained in the air, hovering a few feet above ground level, not too far away from the group. Todoroki examined your expression, you looked exhausted with sweat dripping down your forehead. He noted how your face was a bit pale and to be honest, he feared that you might've overworked yourself.

"You're not done?" Uraraka asked.

"I'm nowhere near done, I still have a lot of training to do.....I need to get stronger―"

"[First Name]-chan/[Last Name]-san!" cries of your name echoed in your ears when you lost hold on yourself and began to fall. They all moved simultaneously but only one of them reacted faster than they did. 

"Nice save, Todoroki!" Ashido sighed in relief, stopping right next to you. Todoroki caught you in his arms and let out a breath that he didn't realize he was holding in.

As soon as your friend rushed in to check your condition, Iida suggested that you rest in the infirmary until lunch. You tried convincing them that you were just fine but Todoroki had cut you off, carrying and whisking you away to the infirmary as your protests fell on deaf ears. He had an arm around your back and his other around the back of your knees. What was he supposed to do? He has carried you without thinking. Now he was walking in the hallway, carrying you like a princess. Not to mention, there were people staring at the two of you.

"Sorry." he apologized. He avoided your gaze, not wanting to see you staring at his red face. Your face was so close and he just wished that the blush on his cheeks would calm down.

"I-Its fine." you mumbled gently, clutching onto his shirt tightly. He took a moment to sneak a peek at you. You had your gaze fixated at anything but him with your cheeks bright red. Just when he thought you weren't looking, you decided to glance at him. And thus, the two of you established eye contact. It lasted a few seconds before the two of you looked away, completely embarrassed.

Seriously, why are you so cute?

Total: 1633 words Published: 11.09.2019

Thank you for requesting! *｡٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و*｡ Are we the odd ones for not being like huge fans of Marvel? I watch some of the movies and all that, I like the story and the characters but not up to the point I obsess over it like I do it with BNHA. ― author Hibiki/Lou

Thank you for requesting! This was a bit rushed and the plot is a bit messed up. It’s written mostly in Todoroki’s point of view[?]. More like from his side. Because we like to use you. We have an announcement to make by the end of the day around (00:00 GMT +8)?― author Natsuki

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

[untakenbeepun]

For the @badthingshappenbingo​ prompt: Sore Throat

Fandom: Kaleidotrope 

Pairing: Harridrew 

[AO3 LINK] 

Someone had forced several knives down Drew’s throat, along with a scouring brush, several lego bricks, and sandpaper, all while he slept. That’s the only explanation, Drew thinks to himself, when he wakes to find that swallowing has become torture, and eating is utterly impossible. After about thirty minutes of groping around the kitchen in an attempt to make some breakfast, and quickly realising that he’d been staring at an empty milk carton for the past ten minutes, brain full of sludge, he gives up. He drops a text to Harrison, apologising for missing their date and after making thinly veiled threats that ON NO ACCOUNT ARE YOU TO COME HERE AND TRY AND MAKE ME FEEL BETTER BECAUSE YOU’LL ONLY GET TERRIBLY SICK YOURSELF, ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME, HARRISON, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SOMEONE HAS TO DO OUR RADIO SHOW, he crawls back into bed. The solution, he decides, is to bury down into his covers and refuse to leave for the next century.

Harrison, of course, completely ignores all of Drew’s texts and appears an hour later. He shows up outside of Drew’s dorm room dressed in a sexy nurse’s costume that had been rejected choice from Halloween: a dress that barely covers Harrison’s ass, along with a fake stethoscope and heels.

“Does someone need a nurse?” he says, preening against the door frame and lifting his leg up so that the dress rides up his thighs and shows off his black tights.

“Harrison,” Drew says, his voice a sickly moan, face pressed into the pillow. “I feel like death.”

“Sounds to me like you need a thorough check-up,” Harrison says, resting a knee on Drew’s bed. “Don’t worry. Nurse Harrison’s gonna make you feel all better.”

“I told you not to come,” Drew moans, rolling over and pulling the blanket over his head.

“Nothing can stop Nurse Harrison when he has patients to cure!”

“You’ll get sick.”

“Nurse Harrison always puts his patients first.”

“Harrison,” says Drew, his voice rough. “I love you, but if you come anywhere near me I’m going to tell everybody on air about that time I caught you trying to kiss one of the campus squirrels to see if it’d turn into a handsome prince.”

There’s a pause and a shuffle. “…I didn’t think you knew what I was doing.”

“I knew exactly what you were doing. I just wanted to save you the embarrassment.”

“Aww,” Harrison says, perching on the side of Drew’s bed, his fingers running through Drew’s hair. “You’re really feeling bad, huh?”

In spite of himself, Drew leans into Harrison’s touch. Harrison’s hands in his hair are the only thing that feels good right now.

“You need to go home,” Drew mumbles, “I don’t want you to get sick too.”

“I’ve probably already caught all of your germs anyway,” Harrison says, cheerfully.

“Harrison…” Drew says, making one last attempt to get Harrison to leave, but he already knows it’s a fool’s errand. He’s never really been able to stop Harrison doing anything that he has his mind set on.

Harrison deftly dodges out of the way of Drew’s feeble grab, and Drew hears him bustling about in the kitchen, along with the sound of several pots and pans clanging onto the floor. Drew can’t quite summon the energy to ask him what happened, so instead he sniffs miserably and slinks back under the cover. The state of the kitchen can be a problem for future Drew.

Harrison appears a few moments later, baring a steaming cup of tea. He’s made it properly this time - Drew had somewhat questioned his choice of romantic partner when he discovered that Harrison thought that the microwave was the proper tool for making tea - and when Drew takes a sip, he finds it’s the first thing that he’s been able to swallow all day. More than that, it actually feels good going down, warming his stomach.

After he’s taken a good long drink, he finally lets his eyes drag over Harrison’s outfit.

“Tell me you didn’t walk across campus in that outfit.”

A grin flickers across Harrison’s face. “All the way.”

“Oh, God.”

“Oh,” Harrison says slyly, preening across Drew’s bed, “are you not enjoying the view?”

“I’d be enjoying it a lot more if it didn’t feel like my whole body was leaking.”

As if to prove his point, Drew erupts into a sneezing fit, miserably reaching for the stash of screwed up tissues on his bedside table.

“Oh, hey,” Harrison says, pulling a plastic bag out of nowhere and pulling out a box of kleenex. “I got you these.”

Drew blinks. “When did you have time to do that?”

“I went to the shop when you texted me. I thought you might need a few things. And I wanted to make sure you had company.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Drew says, curling over in the bed. “I would have been okay on my own.”

“I know,” Harrison says, gently drifting his thumb over Drew’s cheek, “but that doesn’t mean you have to be. And you’re always taking care of me. I wanted to come take care of you.”

That is almost too much to bear for Drew, and oh, God, something really embarrassing is about to happen like snotty tears streaming down his face because, Jesus, he really never has anyone who was that interested in taking care of him. He sinks under the covers and pulls the blanket over his head before he has to explain to Harrison why he’s crying like a baby.

But it’s Harrison, the one person who can read him like a book, so hiding his feelings is next to impossible. But also, it’s Harrison, the person who is almost suspiciously good at sniffing out what Drew needs, so instead of calling him out on his tears, he manoeuvres over Drew to rest his back against the wall, pulling Drew into his arms and holding him gently against his chest.

Drew sniffs, clutching onto Harrison’s knee and letting himself be held, unable to stop himself from letting out a low noise of satisfaction as Harrison’s fingers gently card through his hair.

Harrison holds onto him tight and doesn’t let go until Drew falls asleep, and he’s there every day until Drew is as right as rain.

When a few days later, Harrison wakes with a throat like fire and head full of rocks, Drew decides that he only has himself to blame, but that that doesn’t stop Drew from buying an entire store’s worth of cough syrup and cradling Harrison gently in his arms until the flame in his throat abates.

It’s just what the two of them do for each other.

[mxlokithetrickster]

The Weeping Angel

Fandom: Doctor Who

Warnings: None

Characters: The 10th Doctor, Donna Noble

Words: 1029

Summary: The Doctor finds an interesting gadget and he and Donna find out an interesting fact about the Weeping Angels.

Authors Note: This is based on an old tumblr post and is very crack.

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

The Doctor and Donna were running – again – through a spaceship, chased by angry Sontarans. They turned a corner, almost falling over as they did, and saw the TARDIS – their saving grace. Donna sped up, not wanting to be shot and killed in her frail human body (the Doctor’s words- not hers). She stopped as she got to the door, realizing the Doctor wasn’t beside her, she turned her head, she hair sent flying as she looked around, seeing the Doctor standing at the corner, looking at something on the ground.

“Oi Doc! The name Sontarans ringing any bells? We have to go!” Donna yelled, slightly annoyed and passive aggressive.

The Doctor stupidly continued to stare at the ground, oblivious to his increasingly annoyed companion and the sound of running feet coming closer with each passing second.

“DOCTOR! SONTARANS. TARDIS. NOW!” Donna shouted, changing into Pissed-off Redhead Mode.

The eternal idiot finally looked up, sensing Donna’s anger from across the hallway,

“Right! Yes! Hang on, just let me…” He bent down to grab the thing he had just spent five years looking at and ran into the TARDIS, Donna having already opened it with her key.

The Doctor bounded up the ramp, trusting Donna to shut the door, and slamming his hand down on the controls.

They were off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright, show me what was so important that you just had to nick it.” Donna said, exasperated and slightly amused, though she’d die before she admitted it.

“Well… It’s a thing, it does… something…” The Doctor trailed off, playing with the small obviously scientific instrument in his hands.

“Excuse me?”

“… Yes?”

“Do you mean to tell me that you just risked our lives for something that you don’t know how to use?” Venom slipped into her voice, lacing into the air and snaking towards the object of her well-controlled anger.

“I- well I-”

“What were you thinking!? There. Were. Sontarans. We needed to go! And you stopped to grab a THING? Doctor sometimes I swear I-” She cut off abruptly, standing frozen with her mouth half-open, mid-word.

“Donna?” The Doctor looked down at the device- he had been playing with it while she was yelling- his finger now hovering over the pressed button. He slowly pressed down on the button again, watching as it moved back into place.

“-could kill you sometimes! You absolute dumbo!” Donna completed, unknowing of the several seconds she just spent in a time-stop.

“Oh my god! It’s a Time-Stopper!” The Doctor shouted, cutting off his companion mid-yell.

“What?”

“The- the thing I picked up! It’s a Time-Stopper!”

“THAT’S its name?” Donna asked incredulously.

“Well, not its actual name but it tells you what it does anyway!”

“So, let me get this straight, you risked our lives for something that you didn’t know what it was, and now that you know what it does, you don’t know its name.” Donna deadpanned, unamused at the Doctor’s antics.

“Uhh… Yes?”

“Why do you do the things you do?”

“I don’t know.”

“I know Doctor, I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days had passed since The Incident #43 and things had calmed down again- as much as they could with the Doctor. He was currently taking them to a secluded beach on some planet a million miles away (Donna hadn’t bothered to listen to the name, she probably couldn’t pronounce it anyway) for a well-deserved break.

The TARDIS shook as the flew through time and space to their destination. Landing with a bump, the duo laughed as they fell to the floor, carefree joy flowing through the space, spreading to the TARDIS’s heart as she waited patiently for her Doctor and his companion to explore the newest place she had brought them to, knowing the adventures they would have here soon.

The Doctor and Donna got up and moved to open the door, The Doctor poking his head out to check they were in the right place.

“Allons-y!” He said, jumping out of the doorway, stopping to wait for his companion. “What would you like to do first?”

“Let’s just walk, we never get the chance to, with all our running.” Donna answered, taking her chance to make a joke.

“A walk it is!” He held out his arm for her to take and off they went.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had been walking for about 30 minutes when, out of nowhere, The Doctor stopped, staring off into the distance.

Donna sighed, “What did you see?”

“A Weeping Angel.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“We should probably be running right about now.”

“Yeah.”

They took off in a sprint, checking behind them every few seconds to check the Angel’s progress. The Doctor stopped abruptly, causing Donna to skid to a stop as well.

“Why did you stop?”

“We have a Time-Stopper.” He said, sounding as if he was annoyed he hadn’t thought of it earlier.

“Then use it!” Donna shouted, trying hard not to blink as The Doctor rummaged through his coat pockets.

“Aha! Gotcha!” Donna grabbed onto the device as he pressed the button quickly, stopping the Angel in its tracks.

They stared, turned to each other, blinked, and turned to stare again. They looked at each other again, grins starting to form on their faces. Suddenly, they burst into laughter, clutching their sides as they cackled.

“Is- is it-” Donna asked, trying to talk through her laughter.

“I think it is!” The Doctor wheezed.

“ITS DOING THE CHICKEN DANCE!” The yelled in unison, their eyes filling with tears and their sides starting to hurt.

“Oh my god!”

“I know!”

They continued to laugh for the better half of 20 minutes, unable to stop because every time they looked at each other they started up again.

“Ok, ok, we should probably go now.” The Doctor finally sobered up enough to regain whatever sense of reason he usually had.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

They walked off back towards the TARDIS, grinning at each other every now and then. As they stepped inside the wonderful machine, The Doctor turned around and pressed the Time-Stopper’s button again, un-pausing time and letting the Weeping Angel free.

He turned, shutting the door and bounding up the steps to start their next adventure.

[aki-draws-things]

Okay, me again 😂 Hope you're having a good day 💜 So, can I ask for another prompt, let's say, homesickness for Tymeo?

Hello again, my dear!! Worry not, you can ask all the prompts you wish, really… It’s much easier when people asks me prompt for a ship or another… on my own I get stuck most of the times trying to decide who should I write on.

Now, about this one prompt, it became a biot of an abstract concept, the homesickness. Especially because home is not the place but the person. also, the ending is open, because I couldn’t chose how to end it, actually. What Romeo will find in the end is up to you.

(Also, Catarina is the sweetest woman. she cares so much…)

***

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: Homesickness

Fandom: Romeo et Juliette

Ship: Tymeo

Venice wasn’t that bad, Tybalt had to agree; it was a bit wet, and humid, yes, but not entirely bad. Except for the part where he did not chose to spend the rest of his life there, alone. Not that he was truly alone, just –

“Are you ready?” He raised the head from the letter he had spent the last two hours writing and looked behind himself at the red haired woman on the door, looking smiling at him. He sighed.

“Yes. I just need to sign it and it will be done.” She nodded and laughed softly, hair bouncing slightly at the movement.

“Must truly be someone special if they receive a letter from you every week, my dear.” He nodded again and stood up, letter in hand and walked to her.

“My apologize for making you wait, again. - He took her hand and kissed her lightly. - We may go.”

Catarina took his arm and led the way, never stopping smiling, they left the letter to a courier and walked away.

“You don’t make me wait, you save me from all those small talks women will make during the party. Not even one that could understand politics or, for the matter, beauty. They’re so boring, so if your precious friend is worth all that time for a letter, then it’s perfectly fine for me.”

She was nice, and understanding, Tybalt liked her. But he couldn’t love her, that was beyond his abilities. First, she was ten years older than him. Normally it would have been the man being older, normally his uncle would have looked for a young lady, in her fourteens or something. But Catarina was, in his uncle’s opinion, the perfect match. - Yes. Perfect because she was still unmarried despite her beauty, and daughter to the Prince of Venice. That union would bring so much power to the Capulet’s family, more than anyone else except for the Escalus’  family. -

Second, he simply couldn’t give her his love since that was already taken by someone else, in Verona. His mysterious friend. His Romeo. - Same Romeo who, in the past letter, accused him of cheating on him. It took all of his calm to explain in the letter that he never chose that life and union and would return to Verona, and probably run away with him, any time, if only he could. -

Third, but that was mostly a secret Tybalt wasn’t completely sure of and preferred to keep for himself for the time being, his wife was quite in love with her personal maid.

Now he could only hope Romeo would understand.

Romeo sighed and clutched the letter at his chest, how stupid he had been, thinking Tybalt actually cheated on him, thinking he would go and marry that woman out of love. How stupid and childish. He knew better, deep down he knew, and yet he had let jealousy take over his hand during his last letter. Now he wanted to take that paper and replace every single word he had written with something better, words of love and kindness.

“I feel so stupid…” He sighed again, and Juliet laughed lightly.

“You were, yes. Just a bit. But I know my cousin, and I know for sure that once he loves someone he gives them everything.”

“I miss him.” He sighed again and she hummed.

“You could come with me next time I go visit him.” She proposed absentmindedly.

“Yeah… Like my family would let me go to Venice just because I want to… I appreciate the thought, Juliet, really, but –”

“If you were to be my husband then you would have every right to accompany me.”

It was sudden, incredibly sudden. Romeo turned to her with his eyes wide open.

“It – It wouldn’t – I wouldn’t … couldn’t – I…”

“I’m not asking you to love me, Romeo. - She said kindly. And a little amused too. - You’re cute, and with time I’m sure I would learn to love you, but I can’t ask you the same. It would be a way for you to come with me to Venice, be with my Tybalt for a little.”

“And we should simply say that… we will marry? That I asked you and you said yes… or something?”

“Or something. Yes.”

The plan was easy, so easy nothing could go wrong. - Except maybe for her father trying to change her mind first, threatening Romeo later and, lastly, trying to speak to the Prince about this absurd turning of things. The Prince gave them his blessing instead and threatened Lord Capulet of exile if he did anything against them. Maybe that would’ve been the thing that would finally bring peace, he though hopefully. -

“I thought you loved –” Romeo almost jumped at Mercutio when he opened his mouth.

“I did – I do. I still do. It’s complicated but like this I will have a chance to spend time with him, somehow. It’s… Complicated.” He repeated, and it was, indeed. It took him and Juliet hours to properly write their plan in a letter and send it.

There was just one small problem. Lord Capulet wrote him too.

Tybalt felt sick, he felt a pang in his heart, he felt tears forming in his eyes. He crumbled up the letter and threw it in the fireplace. In truth there was no anger nor rage in him, he trembled slightly and fell on his knees.

“I miss home.” He said to Catarina just the day before, both sitting in the library, almost distracted. “I miss the people, the air in Verona and its streets. And I miss him. Like air.”

“The one you always write to, my dear?” Tybalt nodded.

“He’s like home. Feels like home, tastes like home. I feel so lost. - He looked up suddenly worried. - Not that I’m not happy here. Everyone is kind, you are kind and I like you, very much. But –”

“But you’re homesick, I understand. He must be truly amazing, maybe next time you should invite him here.”

“No one knows about us. Or I would’ve been already dead.”

“They don’t need to know. - She casted a quick look at a maid collecting some cups from a nearby table, Tybalt saw the way she looked back. - You’ll just invite a friend in our house, so that this will be home for you too, for a little.”

The day he arrived to Venice to marry Lady Catarina he thought he wouldn’t even like her, in any way. He had been wrong. There was no love between them, not the kind of love one expected from husband and wife, they simply were friends. And it was enough, for both of them.

He should’ve known better, he thought sadly, he should’ve known better than trusting a Montague.

And yet he did trusted him, he loved him, he gave him his heart, and what for? To have it crushed like this?

After all of his words about betrayal and cheating he went and married Juliet. How hypocrite of him. How –

Tybalt felt sick. Actually sick, physically sick.

The fire burned every single word his uncle wrote him, slowly he felt his body getting more and more tired and heavy, tears falling down his cheeks silently. He slid on the floor on his side and the world darkened upon him.

- Oh, the fear Catarina felt when she walked in the room only to find her husband lying unconscious on the floor! -

She eyed Romeo doubtfully when he appeared before her next to Juliet. That was him, then. That was the boy.

“Welcome to Venice.” She force a smile standing from her armchair by the large window and leaving the open book on the table. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person.” She had to be kind, if not for him or herself than for her husband.

“Thank you Catarina.  But tell me, where is my dear cousin? I’m sure he’ll be so happy to have us here.” Romeo looked around, almost hoping Tybalt to suddenly appear. But he didn’t and Catarina’s eyes darkened just a little.

“My husband is very sick right now. - She confessed. - A strange sickness, something doctor’s can’t explain.” Romeo felt all color drain from his face. He couldn’t be sick… They were supposed to spend the whole week together, he –

She led them to the bedroom and Romeo followed almost automatically until she stopped in front of a closed door.

“He feels like his home had been destroyed leaving him with nowhere to go. Lost. - There was a light accusation in her voice but all Romeo could see was the door. He yearned to enter, to be with his Tybalt, to make things right. Whatever happened he must have not believed their letter. Or maybe he didn’t even receive it. He had to change that. He had to fix that. He had to explain. - Maybe you can cure him. I hope you can.”

She took Juliet’s arm and walked away as Romeo gently pushed the door, entered and closed it behind himself. He hoped he could do it too.

[fireladybuckley]

Moments in the Woods

Fandom: Supergirl Pairing: Lena x Reader Prompt: “Snowy woods” for @musikat18‘s birthday challenge Word Count: 2598 Warnings: Nothing, it’s pure fluff <3

           The mid-afternoon sun throws golden beams of light around you as you walk, the snow glinting like diamonds as more of it crunches under your boots.  You draw your jacket a little tighter around yourself as a cool breeze playfully ruffles your hair, and you pull your toque down a bit so it covers your ears completely.   You hum to yourself as you walk, anticipation at what is to come bubbling in your chest.  You haven’t seen Lena in almost two years, and now you are finally going to get to spend some time with her.  You’d flown to National City to visit family but mostly because you’ve been lost without her;  your heart aches to think just how long you’d been apart.

           You slow as your destination comes into view.  A tree, so familiar to you when full of leaves, looks very different with all of its branches bare.  Still, the shape of its large, sturdy trunk brings back memories, and you smile as you come to a stop about twelve feet in front of it, looking up into its branches.   You pull a folded note out of your pocket with a mittened hand, unfold it and read it through once more, even though you know what it says by heart.

“Meet me in the woods.  You know the place. By that enormous ancient oak tree, the one where we buried our time capsule.”

           Folding the note back up again, you glance around as you stick it back into the pocket of your wool coat.  You seem to have beaten Lena here, and you shiver slightly as the breeze ruffles your hair again.  You take one more look around before tilting your head up to gaze into the tree’s branches again, your hands jammed into your pockets, hoping they’ll keep you warmer than just your woolen mitts.

           Out of nowhere you hear a slight whooshing noise, and before you can react, something hits you square in the back of the head.  You let out a surprised shriek as the snowball explodes on impact, nearly knocking your hat off your head and sending cold snow down your neck.  You whirl around in indignation to see Lena, half concealed behind a tree ten feet away, grinning.

           “Is that how you greet me after almost two years?!” You yelp, and Lena laughs.  “Ohh you’re going to regret that, Luthor,” you grumble, but you’re mostly playing.  Honestly you’re somewhat delighted by the greeting, as it allows for immediate banter and play.  You scoop up some snow and quickly compact it into a snowball, then straighten up to throw it only to receive another explosion of cold power to the chest.

           “AUGH!” you yell, flailing momentarily before taking aim.  Lena lets out a cry of laughter and spins away, your snowball hitting the tree behind her instead.  Letting out a yell of playful frustration, you quickly crouch and scoop up more snow, making a few snowballs, then stand, ducking and successfully avoiding a third throw from Lena.  

           “Ha!” you shout triumphantly, as your first throw explodes over her shoulder, peppering her face and hair with snow.  You throw another and miss; your third gets Lena in the back of the head and you throw your arms up into the air in victory.

           “Okay, truce, truce!” she calls, laughing.  You grin and brush off your mitts, then hurry towards her as she rushes towards you.  You meet in the middle and throw your arms around her, hugging her close as she encloses you in a tight bear hug.  You can feel tears stinging your eyes as you bury your face into her long, thick hair and hear her sniffle a little as she holds you close.

           “I missed you so much,” you mumble into her hair, and feel her squeeze you in response.

           “I missed you too,” she replies, slowly breaking the hug and moving back only far enough to be able to look at you, her eyes shining with joy.  “You’ve been gone far too long.”

           “I know,” you say, taking her gloved hands in yours, curling your mitts a little clumsily around her fingers.  “But guess what... I might be able to get a transfer to National City in the New Year!  I might be able to come home!”  Lena lets out a squeal and you’re immediately engulfed in another hug, which you happily return.

           “That would be amazing!” she exclaims as she pulls away, squeezing your hand.  “You must tell me all about everything!”

           “I will,” you say, smiling.  “But first... why are we meeting out here?  In the middle of winter?”   Lena smiles at looks up at the tree, her eyes filled with warmth.

           “Well, I feel like it’s sort of our tree,” she says, and you nod in agreement.  “Digging up that time capsule a few years ago was wonderful.  We’ve been friends for so long now.”  She squeezes your hand again and you squeeze back, nodding again.

           “Since we were nine,” you agree, smiling at the memory of the two of you as kids, and in your early teens, gossiping and giggling together.  Your first stolen kiss, right under the branches of this tree.

           “Well, I have a surprise for you.  Come on, we need to walk a bit,” Lena says, and she tugs on your hand, trying to lead you on.  You follow her willingly, falling into step beside her until holding hands became a little too difficult in the snow and you let go reluctantly, trying to keep your balance.

           It starts to snow, and you stare up into the tree branches as fat flakes float down around you, settling on everything.  Lena leads you through the snow for a good twenty minutes before she slows to a stop, looking down at something.

           “Hm,” Lena makes a noise that sounds somewhere between contemplative and concerned, and you step up beside her to see what she’s looking at.  She is peering down at something clutched in her hands, and you fully intended on looking to see what she was holding, but your eyes catch on her face and stay there.  Her hair, liberally covered with fresh snowflakes, frames her face, her cheeks rosy, her eyes bright.  She is so beautiful it makes your breath catch in your throat and you nearly forget about anything else until she makes another noise, her brow creasing as she looks down at the thing in her hand.

           Shaking yourself, you manage to tear your gaze away from her face and look down to see a compass in her gloved hands.  Making an incredulous face, you raise an eyebrow at her, as she looks at you with a mixture of ruefulness and worry.

           “Um, I think we might be lost,” Lena admits, and your eyebrow raises further, as you peer at her suspiciously.  Lena had always been a prankster when you were kids, and this was just like her.

           “Uh huh.  Compass not working?”  You ask, your tone expression much skepticism.

           “It’s fine, but I don’t recognize any of this,” Lena says, gesturing around.  She sounds genuinely worried now, and you feel your heart flicker with concern. “I think we went too far northwest.”

           “Oh,” you say, unsure.  You glance back the way you’d come, eyeing the trail you’d left behind.  “We could backtrack.  Where are we going, anyway?”

           “I don’t want to spoil the surprise.  Let’s just try it.” Lena says, and you follow her as she walks back down the way you’d just come.  Every once in a while Lena looks down at the compass and makes a concerned noise, and you dutifully follow her along for a good fifteen minutes before you start to get very concerned.  You’d taken a new path shortly after backtracking, and you’re starting to worry that Lena was truly lost.  You glance around nervously;  there’s maybe a half hour of sunlight left, and you feel a bit of fear creep into your chest.  The thought of being stuck in the woods at night, in the cold and snow, is terrifying.  You hurry to keep with Lena, about to ask her if maybe you should just go back for tonight, when she stops so abruptly that you walk into her from behind.   Her arm is immediately there to steady you, and you stare at her, wondering what was happening.

           “Look,” she says, pointing.  “There’s a cabin there.  We can ask them where we are.”

           “Er, Lena, I- I don’t think...” you trail off, unable to coherently explain why the thought of knocking on the door of a random cabin in the woods is freaking you out.

           “It’ll be fine, come on!” Lena reassures you, then grabs your hand and pulls you along.  Sighing, you follow, remembering just how strong willed Lena is as she drags you along behind her.

           As you approach, you see that the cabin is quite nice.  There’s a lovely porch out front with a bench and a small wood stove, and the windows, frosted from the cold, glowing in many colours from holiday lights within.  It didn’t seem like a murder cabin, at least, and you feel a little better about following Lena up the few steps towards the front door.

           Instead of knocking, as you expected, Lena instead fishes in the pocket of her jacket and brings out a small ring of keys.  You watch, your mouth falling slightly open, as she inserts a key into the lock and turns;  you hear a click as it unlocks, and make a noise of disbelief.  Lena turns to you, grinning, amusement glinting in her eyes.

           “Got you,” she says, before pushing the door open.  A rush of warm air, scented with cinnamon, cloves and other holiday smells washes over you, and you make a noise of indignation.

           “This is your cabin?” you ask, your voice higher in protest. “I thought you were lost!! Unbelievable,” you grumble, as she laughs and gestures for you to come inside.

           You step inside despite your indignation at being tricked, and feel yourself taking a deep breath.  The cabin smells incredible, the spicy scents you’d detected before mingling with the smell of burning wood from the crackling fireplace nearby.  The cottage is somewhat small but looks incredibly cozy, a couch and several chairs gathered around a coffee table by the fire, the furniture strewn with fluffy blankets.  Lena gestures to the boot rack, so you slip your boots off and follow her down a hallway, sliding a little on the smooth wood floor in your socks.

           “This place is adorable, Lena,” you say, indignation forgotten as you look around.  “It’s so...” you pause, at a loss for words to describe how welcoming and warm the cabin felt.  “so cozy.”

           “I couldn’t resist buying it when I saw the photos online and realized how close it was to our tree,” Lena says, showing you the bathroom, her bedroom, another bedroom.  You gape slightly as you realize your suitcase was sitting neatly in the corner of the room, and Lena chuckles as you look at her.

           “I had it brought over.  I thought we might want to stay here for a night or two,” she says, raising an eyebrow at you.  You grin and nod, then reach out for an impromptu hug.  Lena laughs and hugs you again, then leads you back to the porch area to store your jacket.

           “I have another surprise,” Lena says, and you follow her wordlessly, wondering how many wonderful things she was going to surprise you with today as you trailed after her through the kitchen and to the back porch.   You step outside as she gestures to do so, the cold from the wooden boards under your feet immediately sinking into your socks, but you gasp as you look around and spot what she’s pointing at.

           “Ah!  Hot tub!” you gasp, dancing on the spot, both from excitement and the cold under your feet.  “Can we go in now?”

           “Of course,” Lena agrees with a soft laugh.  She leads you back to your room and disappears into hers, and you meet a few minutes later in your bathing suits.  You admire her curves as she fishes a couple of pairs of flip-flops out of a nearby closet, watching her long black hair swishing around her shoulders as she moves.

           You spend several hours in and out of the hot tub, chatting and spending a long time just catching up, sitting yourself up on the side of the tub whenever you got too hot, letting the cold air attack your skin for as long as you could stand it and then sinking back into the water again.  The snow starts falling more heavily, and you move over to sit beside Lena, looking out into the trees as the snow falls  around you, melting as the flakes hit the steam rising from the hot tub.  You put your head on her shoulder after a while and she smiles, wordlessly moving her hand to gently stroke your thigh under the water.

           After a long time, the two of you were getting a little too wrinkly and sleepy after the excitement of the day, so you hurry inside, giggling and shrieking softly as the cold air prickles your hot, wet skin.  After getting changed, Lena makes you both steaming mugs of rich hot chocolate and you curl up by the fire with her, leaning against her side once more.  Lena puts on a holiday movie, but half an hour in you can barely keep your eyes open.

           “Here, lie on my lap,” Lena says, putting a soft cushion on her lap and patting it.  Happy to obey, you pull your feet up onto the couch and lower your head onto her lap, squirming a little until you’re comfortable.  Lena strokes your hair absently as she watches the movie and you spend the next hour fading in and out of blissful, light sleep, thrilled to not only be with Lena but be cuddling like this, lying in her lap.  It’s more than you could ever have wished for, and when the movie ends, you’re disappointed, despite having slept through most of it, because you know the evening is over.

           Ready for bed, you’re about to say goodnight to Lena and head to your room when she smiles at you and catches your hand.

           “Y’know, you don’t have to sleep in your bed,” Lena says softly, threading her fingers through yours.  You look up at her curiously, and she smiles again.

           “I have a king sized bed, and it’s pretty lonely by myself.  Care to join me?”  You smile slowly as you realize what she means and you nod, squeezing her hand back.  She leads you into her room and throws the covers back, and you get into bed, watching her as she changes into her pajamas (you’d already changed) and slides into the bed next to you.

           “Come here,” she says, after turning out the light and settling down onto her back.  She holds out an arm and you scoot closer, laying your head down on the crook of her shoulder, curling up along her side.  She loops the arm under you around your back and shuffles closer until you’re snuggled up close. Lena falls asleep almost as soon as she’s comfortable, and you listen to her soft, even breaths as you begin to drift off, hardly daring to believe you’re tucked in close at her side, your joy slowly fading into wonderful dreams as you fall into a deeper sleep than you’ve had in years.

Send me an ask or message if you want to be added to (or removed from) my tag list! <3 @outside-the-government @littlecarowrites @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @stormsnevercometostay @southernbellestatues  @mad-girl-without-a-box @reading-in-moonlight

[merryfortune]

Ruri In Wonderland

My Gift Fic for the YGO Shipfest Secret Easter Event

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Arc V

Ship: Ruri/Serena, minor or implied ships

Word Count: 8.7k

  Ruri inched closer to the edge. She felt the breeze in her hair, and she heard people behind her cooing, egging her on. But she didn’t care for the murmured shouts of those people; the friends whom she had made on this adventure but the friends whom she had to leave behind and the friends whom she would not take with her. The only person she cared for was Serena.

  And Serena stood by her side.

  Ruri shifted. The chiffon and lace and silk of all her lilac and blue petticoats and skirts bouncing with even the slightest movement. Her collar ate at her neck slightly. The clothes she had been gifted were fanciful and bizarre and were, ultimately, proof of the bonds that she had made along the way.

  “Are you ready?” Serena’s voice was gawky. Raspy. Yet, she was unbelievably excited. A whole new adventure awaited them, just a little bit over the cliff and then bam! They would be there.

  Ruri’s mouth quirked. She swallowed and she gazed into Serena’s eyes. They were so blithe and wide: a beautiful, slate blue eyes which were completely and utterly keen. Ruri smiled. Serena’s ears flicked, irritated by the wind so high up where they stood. They were so close and yet so far and the moment slowed. Ruri found herself reflecting on her – their – adventure which had brought them to this dazzlingly high cliffside anyway.

  The edge was so precarious. So high up and the cliff, crumbly with springy grass, yearned to kiss the sky. To jump down, to rise up, it wasn’t all that different to how Ruri had arrived. She beamed, though. To think, so much had changed in so little time. A few days, perhaps. Perhaps more, perhaps less, she would soon discover the round-about way in which time flowed – or more accurately did not flow – rather swiftly yet she held Serena’s hand and her breath.

  Thinking, thinking, thinking about the thump, thump, thump of the white rabbit which had caught her eye in that dire moment. That rabbit had helped her escape what could have been a disastrously boring life. A life which was not for the likes of Kurosaki Ruri. She didn’t want to settle down with a strained smile with a boy that she was falling out of love with. She wanted to grin and to be as free as a bird. She wanted to have an adventure and when the ring had dazzled her eyes in the morning sun in the garden party, Ruri quickly and embarrassedly fled the moment she saw that fat, white rabbit in her peripheries.

  And what a joyous thing that had been. She followed that white rabbit down into its hole and she tumbled into a room. A true and broad room of oak and with a talking door knob and with a bowl of biscuits which when she ate, she grew ginormous but when she ate others, she became tinier than a thimble. It had caused her a great deal of distress, growing and shrinking like that, but once she had puzzled her way out of that little room, she felt as proud as pink punch.

  Then, she was free to wander. She had a whole and beautiful world ahead of her. One the likes of which she had never seen. Nonce signs pointed her the way as she trod through a gigantic garden and where she encountered roses, and other predatory plants, who could talk. Such a beautiful troupe of colourful plants were all led by one by the name of Yuri and he was a snarky little darling whom Ruri did not initially trust but he had a captive stare. He wanted a guest out of her and a guest he got through Ruri’s inability to gracefully walk out of the proper garden party etiquette.

  Thus, they talked and talk they did. They had so many opinions on her how she dressed and how she kept her hair. But, despite their overbearing opinions and chatter, they endeared themselves to Ruri regardless and Ruri was endeared to them in return. Once they had run out of gossip to bestow upon her, Yuri gave her flowers to wear in her hair – and those strange things with ribbed leaves and toothed eyes and beautiful petals remained in her long, purple tresses even now. Though the wind, like a cat, threatened to playfully steal them away.

  Once freed of such chatty plants’ clutches, Ruri had the pleasure to continue walking through this strange new world wherein she soon met Mieru the Caterpillar. Mieru was a hedonistic creature with a braggart personality regarding supposed psychic talents. She languidly lounged upon a cluster of green and purple mushrooms which were nearly as big as most trees that Ruri had seen. But she was kind of soul and conversational too despite her wrapped up in ribbons-type of eccentricities. Mieru wanted to know who Ruri was and where Ruri had come from and where she was going. And when she had asked the little dove girl that final question, her emerald green eyes keened and narrowed curiously and peculiarly.

  In hindsight, the answer was obvious. Ruri was on a whimsical and fated journey. But, doused in the sunbeams coming through shaky, lilac foliage, shifting her weight beneath her creamy yellow sundress, she hadn’t known. Thus, Mieru offered Ruri some advice in that moment in front of the mushrooms. Whilst blowing hookah smoke which tasted of green apples and tobacco, Mieru produced a prediction.

  She shuffled through cards and coins and came to a cartomancy conclusion validated by her shiny additions. She grinned and she pointed at Ruri, startling and announcing that she would find her way so long as she kept going forward like the olive branch dove soul that she had and that she was, most assuredly, going to return home despite the odds of having fallen into Wonderland as she had. Ruri nodded fiercely upon hearing this and Mieru sent her on her way.

  Thus, Ruri continued into the forest and down the oddly misplaced yellow brick road. But the road grew thin and thinner until it was mere pebbles no longer coloured akin to sunshine. And the forest grew thicker and thicker until it blotted out all the sky and clouds. It grew colder too. Like a snowy and frigid storm was passing through but alas, no such flakes fell. It was simply cold and dark and kind of damp, as well.

  And, with no road to follow, Ruri found herself collapsing. She was lost. Completely and utterly lost – and not to mention disillusioned with what that pipsqueak fortune teller had had to say. There was no such home at the end of this path. There was no path. It had up and turned to dust, swept away by little dust bin birds.

  Yet, in her weeping and sobbing, Ruri found the eyes which turned upon her in her despair. Curious and unfeeling. A grey in colour. With a voice that followed: purring and callous.

  “Why so unhappy, little bird?” the cat had asked.

  The cat which went unseen and which went every which way. Ruri lifted her head and ceased her sobbing. For the third time, she spieled her woes and miseries. She poured out her heart to the creature which went all but unseen. Listening, but not necessarily caring. Ruri confessed of how she had fallen out of love with her childhood friend turned lover; she detested how he anchored her, snuffing out her impossible thoughts by telling her to simply smile for him and him alone. She hated it. She wanted to smile for all the world; not just some phantom knight her brother approved of.

  The cat smirked. “Then simply be free.” she told Ruri with her uppity hands on her hips.

  Ruri guffawed. “It can’t be that simple.”

  “Ah, but it can be. When you’re a cat. When you’re winged like you.”

  “Prove it.” Ruri piped up. “Prove to me that I can be free of this love I don’t want.”

  With a flick of her tail, the cat appeared before Ruri in all her moonlight-like glory. She bent down over Ruri and gave a sniff. Ruri stiffened. She did not like being sniffed by the feline-like human – or perhaps human-like feline – in front of her.

  “I can’t.” the cat said. “I can only tell you that left is right and right is left, and right is right, and you should leave to the left if you want to leave.”

  Ruri’s lower lip simpered. Quivered. She felt a quimble upon her mouth before she spoke: “Then come with me. I’ll prove it to you. That I can be free.”

  “That sounds wonderful, dovey.” The cat replied. “So, does the bird have a name?”

  “Does the cat?” Ruri retorted.

  And it was through such an exchange, that both the bird girl and the girl cat felt the tug of fate. That this was someone who would be very important to them one day. One day soon. Perhaps in five minutes’ time; perhaps in five years’ time.  Regardless, their hands slotted together, and they exchanged names.

  Her name was Serena and her name was Ruri and together they were going to have an adventure. And an adventure they had. They travelled through the forest, on paths which weren’t paths at all. Through the bandy-legged grass and through the curly-wurly, topsy-turvy trees until they found themselves where they needed to be.

  It was difficult to tell how much time had passed between then and now and then again. Especially since their feet did not grow weary, though their mouths did grow parched and their stomachs did idly groan for food. Even now, at the edge of the cliff, Ruri couldn’t discern how much time had passed between arriving in that oaky little room to meeting Yuri and then Mieru and then Serena and then the Mad Hatter known as Dennis.

  Though their feet did not tire, their minds wandered too as pulled along by the whimsy of their stomachs. Thus, it was Serena’s idea – when Ruri’s incessant mumbling about being hungry – that they find themselves at the edge of the forest and just before the Duchess’s meadow for a spot of tea. At the time, Ruri didn’t know how they would find tea in the middle of nowhere but fortunately, tea would find them in the middle of everywhere.

  A few steps this way and a few steps that way and before they knew it, they found a gate attached to a hedge maze. They didn’t even have to push on said gate, which was ornate and decadent yet quite rusted, to gain entry. In fact, someone on the other, obscured slightly by the grate, opened it for them and out came whizz-bang fireworks and more.

  Both girls were grabbed and suddenly found themselves whirled through a maze and at its very centre, they were sat down at a white table which was higher at one end than the other and constantly going up and down as a result with a rather strange party. The ginger-haired youth, a boy with white rabbit ears, a girl with mouse ears and a boy with cocoa-brown hare ears. And now that Ruri and Serena had arrived, planted on wobbly chairs and in front of a grand-looking feast of heavily iced cakes and overstuffed sandwiches, it seemed that the party could begin.

  The Hatter was the one to take the lead on introductions as Serena was too busy tearing into the various sandwiches. He introduced himself as Dennis, the dormouse as Rin, the march hare as Yugo, and before he could get another word in, the boy with white rabbit ears very cheerfully reintroduced himself to Ruri – her amazement as she had, erroneously, never seen the lad before but with a snap of candy between his teeth, he very happily corrected her.

  He was Sora and he was the one who was running late, late, late. And, more importantly, he had been the bunny-rabbit who had been in the right place at the right time by arriving at that garden party when Ruri needed an escape. Though, Sora did flippantly explain that he had only been searching for upper world candies since they were even weirder than Wonderland candies thereby going against the Red King’s orders as he had sent him in a direction completely different and now he was going to be late, late, late for the appointment later but he didn’t care. He had more important things, quite literally, on his plate such as lemon drops and lollipops.

  Thus, with a shrug of his shoulders, Sora then in turn prompted Dennis, “Hey, isn’t it about time we celebrate your Not Birthday?”

  “Not birthday?” Ruri blinked. “What’s your Not Birthday?”

  “The days in which it’s not my birthday, obviously.” Dennis replied as he filled his tea cup to its porcelain brim. “It’s a very important day, after all.”

  Ruri laughed. “How ironic, today is my birthday.”

  “No way!” howled Rin the Dormouse. “We simply have to celebrate it as well.”

  Yugo the March Hare eagerly elbowed Rin the Dormouse.

  “Indeed, indeed, indeed we do.” Dennis agreed. He then hummed. “However, shall we celebrate such a momentous day, after all it’s my Not Birthday and it’s Ruri’s Is Birthday…?”

  Serena sneered. “I think Ruri ought to perform a poem for us.” She said.

  “What, why?” Ruri replied, flustered.

  “A poem! How marvellous! I do love a good show! So, for me, dear Ruri, a poem, please. Anything at all. It is my Not Birthday after all.” Dennis squealed.

  “Do it, do it, do it!” chanted Rin and Yugo in devious glee.

  Ruri shivered but upon casting a glance at Serena, Serena who wanted to see her fail likely because it would be amusing, her conviction steeled. Her hand turned to a fist in front of her breast.

   “I’ll do it.” Ruri said and she got up abruptly.

  She hastily downed the last – the all – of her tea. She wiped her mouth and Dennis whistled. Ruri took a breath and she tried to recall some poetry that her mother used to recite her in lieu of lullabies. Poems that Ruri could no longer recall but poems which she took heart in. She spoke up and she spoke clearly, enunciating to the best of her abilities. She rambled, yes, but on bountiful topics. Switching quickly between tangents and trying to find a rhythm and rhyme.

  Her audience looked upon her with bright eyes. Dennis clapped her on, clearly enjoying the entertainment for his Not Birthday. [character] and [character] were quiet in their awe. Sora looked chuffed; taking pride in the fact that he was the one who had inadvertently drawn such an impossibly clever girl to their tea party at all. And, as for dear and mischievous Serena, she found herself a touch guilty for setting up Ruri for what had been perceived as failure but was actually a chance for growth. As it would turn out, she truly wasn’t some weepy human girl. She was quite strong and stronger still she would get on their adventures, likely, after all there was still miles to go between here and there.

  Ruri took a sweeping bow. “Finished.” She said, panting as her hair tumbled down over her.

  “Oh, look up,” Serena pouted, “you did good.”

  “Really?” Ruri perked up, smiling and blushing.

  “Yeah, you did.” Serena said.

  “Yes, yes, simply marvellous work!” Dennis crooned.

  “Hey, hey, isn’t someone late for something?” Yugo interrupted.

  Rin nodded and folded her arms. “Mm, mm, yeah, someone’s totally late for something even more important than Dennis’ Not Birthday.”

  “N-Not true.” Sora lied through jittering teeth. Yet, he got up abruptly with locked elbows regardless. He blushed. “I just have other things to attend to. I’m totally booked from here to Smarch and Decembruary.”

  “Sure, sure…” Rin mumbled, snarky.

  “Yeah, I do!” snapped Sora.

  “And your totally not afraid of the Red King, too.” Yugo added to Rin’s cackling amusement.

  “I am too afraid of the Red King!” Sora yelled.

  “Don’t you mean… not afraid of the, um, Red King?” Ruri asked.

  Sora stiffened, ears twitching. “Whatever. I’m leaving.” he announced, uppity, then bounced off.

  “Should we be leaving as well? After all, it’s only a party after the number of six. Anything before is five and therefore, a crowd.”

  “I thought three’s a crowd.” piped up Rin.

  “Serena’s right though… We should really get a hurry on.” Ruri worried.

  “Very well, very well… Off you go then, break my heart.” Dennis quibbled, nodding solemnly.

  “Aw, Dennis,” Ruri mumbled, “we’ll be back. One day. Hopefully.”

  “Unless the Red King cuts off our heads first.” Serena joked darkly.

  Ruri swallowed. “Is that, um, something we have to worry about?”

  “More likely than not, yes.” Yugo replied.

  “Oh yes, the Red King loves cutting off people’s heads.” Dennis quickly added.

  “We’re not going to meet the Red King, are we?” Ruri asked in a tiny voice.

  The party – or the group or crowd or whatever the five of them were now that Sora the White Rabbit had bounded off – fell quiet. Ruri glanced among them. All refused to meet her gaze. That was, until, Dennis found his voice.

  “Er, probably not. After all, he doesn’t cavort with us. He eats his honey sandwiches in private.” Dennis said. “But, that’s that. We’re here. I bid ye well on your journeys.”

  “Thanks Dennis.” Serena gruffly replied.

  Regardless, with that, the girls took their leave. Dennis, Rin, and Yugo jovially bade them goodbye. With their bellies full, the girls left the party and the maze and then, eventually, the forest. All whilst Ruri contemplated what she had learned of this Red King fellow. He seemed a vicious person.

  In hindsight, Ruri knew better. At the time, she had all sorts of imaginings about the Red King and his red-rum cruelty. She thought of heads which may roll, including her own and Serena’s too, should they encounter such a gruesome person. She was terrified of this regal spectre of a terrifying person screeching “Off with her head! Off with her head!” like Dennis and his party had alluded to.

  Yet, Ruri felt strangely calmed by Serena’s presence amid the reveries in her head. She got the feeling – and would later confirm such a feeling – that Serena was a grounded person, more or less. It was difficult to affirm that as she was as much a cat as a person and cats weren’t known for being grounded, but Serena was quite courageous-seeming, nonetheless.

  Upon leaving the forest, they happened upon blue skies and a meadow. The meadow was grand and wide with soft, pale-coloured grass to traipse through. There was something in the distance, something big and grand and it caught their attention. And curiosity always draws in a cat, so Serena decided, unceremoniously, that they ought to investigate and Ruri, thinking Serena was cute in her curiosity, was more than happy to abide.

  Thus, they happened upon the threshold of a rather charming house. It had a cream coloured exterior bedecked with planter box after planter box. Coming from somewhere inside of it, music box tones could be heard. It was a soft, drifting sound which entranced both girls.

  “Should we go in?” Ruri asked as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other on the porch of this grandiose yet endearing house.

  “Of course, we should.” Serena replied without aplomb.

  “But that’s breaking and entering!” Ruri cried out.

  “Only entering.” Serena retorted.

  “Indeed, only entering.” a third girl spoke.

  Ruri yelped when she realised that in her and Serena’s rapport, the door had opened on its own and now there was another person in their midst. She smiled brightly with an eerily familiar face framed by pink ponytails.

  “Are you two the babysitters that I requested?” she asked. She paused and hummed.

  “Babysitters…?” Ruri mumbled.

  “Well, maybe not you, Serena. I would have asked for you specifically, huh, my dear?” The girl reached out and scratched Serena behind her ear.

  Serena blushed and purred. Ruri felt a spark of jealousy.

  “So, are you, my dear,” the girl said addressing Ruri, oblivious to Ruri’s sudden jealous streak, “the babysitter or not?”

  “Of course, she’s the baby sitter, Yuzu.” Serena huffed and then winked.

  “Fabulous.” Yuzu said. “Now, I’ll leave you two in charge then. Please make pepper soup for the little ones whilst I go collect my father. My father and I have a very important croquet match to go to…. But, will I see you there, Serena?”

  Serena shrugged. “But who’ll look after the kids?”

  “Oh, I’ll be back soon, silly. I just need to make sure Dad wrangled up all the flamingos necessary for the croquet match. Once I’m back, you two should join us – and the kids – for the croquet match. It’s sure to be smashing.” Yuzu said.

  “That sounds like a lot of fun.” Ruri replied. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  “Thank you so much, um, uh… I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name, I’m Duchess Yuzu.” She said.

  “Kurosaki Ruri.”

  “What an unusual name! Well, anyways, I’m off.” Duchess Yuzu said and with a skip in her step, she hurried off, passing Serena and Ruri.

  There was a pause and Ruri screwed up her face. “…Did she imply that flamingos are necessary for a… croquet match?” Ruri asked.

  “Well, duh. Yeah.” Serena replied and before the conversation could progress, three screaming voices were heard inside the house.

  Thus, propelling both girls to race inside the house. The house was decorated sublimely with cosy furniture though there was little which matched. As they ran through the corridors, they happened up a kitchen where two boys and one girl screamed and screamed because they were hungry, and they were starving! They were all but neglected in the middle of this decadent house.

  Nonetheless, Ruri snapped into homemaking mode. She took the names of the children – Futoshi, Tasuya, and Ayu – and she started to make pepper soup for them like Duchess Yuzu had asked. In the meantime, Serena planted herself on the floor and let them tug and touch her ears and tail despite it hurting very much whenever the children’s grubby hands yanked on her. But she suffered and she suffered for Ruri as she understood that hot soup would not be very good if spilt on a child, particularly their head.

  Still, it was kind of nice. Ruri liked the domestic, she excelled when it came to hard work and things like cooking and cleaning. She enjoyed it. Serena was the reverse. She was a feline of the wilds, she wasn’t good at this sort of thing, except maybe keeping the kids occupied because she was mostly just a bigger, furrier child not all that different from these smaller, hairless childs.

  The kitchen began to smell of pepper as Ruri set everything to boil whilst humming a little tune under her breath. She wasn’t certain what pepper soup was supposed to be, but she supposed so long as it had carrots and chicken and a whole lot of pepper, it couldn’t be too bad. A thought proven correct when she had Futoshi, Tatsuya, and Ayu set the table for the five of them because lunch was ready to be served. Furthermore, in grand timing, Duchess Yuzu and her Father had returned from the latter’s adventures. So, a table setting of five quickly turned to seven and what a lovely number seven was.

  Despite having gorged themselves on cakes, sandwiches, and tea at the Mad Hatter’s Not Birthday Tea Party, Ruri and Serena found themselves happy to have a share in the soup regardless. The seven of them had their pepper soup with thick-crusted bread slathered with a salted butter. And it was very good. Yuzu’s Father, Duke Shuzo, simply crooned in adoration over his daughter’s similarly faced new friend upon finishing his bowl; to the embarrassment of both girls. The children meanwhile begged for seconds and thirds with extra helpings of buttered bread, too. And Serena watched on, warmed by the soup in her mouth and by the fact that Ruri had made it. She was a good cook.

  With the kids fed, the Duke and Duchess having returned from their flamingo-related ventures, it was time for them to make leave once more. Something Ruri was excited by. She had never played croquet but to her understanding, it was a civilised and fanciful game which she very much wanted to play so, she buzzed with enjoyment as they all made their way through the meadow and closer still to when this croquet tournament was being held.

  A notion which made present Ruri cringe. But only because she had the great knowledge of what happened next for, in the past, she did not have the foresight of asking whom they would be playing croquet with or where they would be playing croquet. Not once through all the chatter, did it occur to the previous Ruri to ask. At least not until they arrived before a grandiose castle with blocky parapets and unfurling, red, diamante flags.

  Ruri’s knees knocked as she, with the rest of the group, or party as there was more than six of them, waited outside the castle, on the fringe of the mossy moat, and waiting to gain entrance.

  Ruri swallowed. “Um, Duchess Yuzu, who are we – you? – playing croquet against?”

  “Why, the Red King of course.” Duchess Yuzu blithely replied.

  “The Red King? What one who tells people off with their head all the time?” Ruri cowered.

  “Well, yes, the very same. But he’s very perfectly wonderful once you get to know him.” Duchess Yuzu.

  Her father suppressed a sob at that mention. Serena noticed but didn’t raise brow as compared to Ruri who found it… hinky to say the least. Nonetheless, they continued to wait, despite Ruri’s hesitations, and soon enough, the drawbridge careened down with a resounding thwack against the ground. Trumpets played and playing card soldiers granted them access into the castle.

  They revered some of the party members, such as Duchess Yuzu and her father, but gave suspicious eye to the children and to Serena and especially Ruri as she markedly different even in this markedly different world. It made her feel small and nervous. Strangely, Serena noticed and purposefully bumped their elbows together. It was a gesture to take heart, Ruri realised and soon enough, they arrived.

  The courtyards which ringed with the intense-looking castle with more diamond motifs that you could poke six sticks at were various flower fields. Most were hedged and most were bedecked with white roses. However, the field that they had been taken too was flat and most plantless. Furthermore, it was ringed by little steely coils to help designate the space in which could be played upon. Throughout this designated space of finely cut grass were little hoops.

  Duchess Yuzu squealed. “Oh, this is going to be fun. I can’t wait for the other team to arrive.” She paused and then glanced at Ruri then hummed.

  “Look, there they come now.” Tatsuya said, wide-eyed and pointing.

  Ruri turned her head.  She watched a haphazard procession came through. Lounging on an ornate chair, the Red King proceeded through, carried by his playing card game soldiers. He teetered precariously one way and then another as he was carried through. Trailing behind him was a crew of four who seemed to be far more important than the soldiers but far less significant than the King himself. Two were dressed as body guards with sun and moon motifs, one was a child of indeterminate gender wearing the motif of clubs and clover, and the fourth was dressed garishly and in an Avant Garde way which seemed even bizarre among his Wonderland kin, beamed a starlit, self-important smile from behind caramel-coloured hair.

  Eventually the processing came to a shambling halt and the Red King was set down. Duke Shuzo stiffened and placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. The child cautiously edged through the crowd and the Red King noticed. Ruri blinked. She couldn’t believe her eyes, but the diamond hard face of the Red King seemed to visibly soften and then, he allowed the child to take his hand.

  Perhaps, Ruri realised – and would again change her mind a few times between here and now – that she had type cast the Red King too quickly based on rumour alone.

  “Greetings and salutations,” the Red King said, “I take it that we are all ready for the games to begin?”

  “Not quite.” Duchess Yuzu replied.

  The Red King raised a brow. “How so? We have the flamingos, we have the players, and most importantly we have our goal posts, so we really ought to begin. You know I don’t like to waste time.”

  “Yes, yes, I know.” Duchess Yuzu huffed. “It’s just one of our players,” she put her hands on her hips, “she isn’t suitably dressed for the event. One can’t play in such a short dress, after all.”

  Ruri stiffened. She suspected that Duchess Yuzu meant her, even though Ayu was wearing a bright pink skirt which was knee-length and therefore only slightly longer than her yellow sundress which went to her mid-thigh. She felt her palms sweat when the Red King’s calculating gaze drifted her to.

  “And who might be this player? I know all the scoundrels and good underlings in my kingdom, otherwise how else am I to know who’s head I want a platter and yet,” the Red King drawled in a playfully cruel way, “and yet, I do not you.”

  “That’s because she’s not from under, she’s from over.” Duchess Yuzu explained.

  “Fascinating. I’ve always wanted to have a rapport with those from up there.” Then, to Ruri, he said: “I look forward to defeating you at croquet, once Yuzu has suitably dressed you up.”

  “Thank you, darling.” Duchess Yuzu snickered and she went up on her tip-toes.

  With a long-suffering sigh, the Red King obliged the Duchess. He leaned down and she pecked his angular face chastely. The child by his side blushed and when Duchess Yuzu went down onto her pointed, black cherry heels, she flashed a smile at said child who grew even shyer.

  “It is court manner that no games begin until all players are ready. Now, hurry up. If you expend any time outside of thirty minutes, I will have both your heads cut off.” The red King said.

  “You say that very time, Reiji, dear.” Duchess Yuzu chuckled and she then grabbed Ruri’s hand. “But you heard the man, let’s hurry.”

  “Huh? Wha-?” Ruri squealed and she, in turn, grabbed Serena’s hand.

  Serena hissed at having been grabbed randomly and of course yanked along, but she was somewhat forgiving of Ruri who had done such atrocities against her because she was in the exact same position. Duchess Yuzu grandly pulled both girls along and into the castle where she quickly barged in against various soldiers and maids and others employed to the Red King.

  In the castle, Duchess Yuzu had her own home away from home. For all intents and purposes, her home – the charming country manor – had been lifted from where it stood in the meadow and inserted into the castle. That is how identical it was, or at least to Ruri, as she was pulled and yanked around and thrown into a luxurious-looking wardrobe bigger than her own room back home with about fifteen-minutes to spare and with Duchess Yuzu chasing after her thereafter.

  Serena, however, remained outside and made herself comfortable in the exact manner like a cat ought to, that is with one leg over the other and her face in her hands and her tail flicking around and her spine curling inwards unnaturally, on a velvety, chaise lounge. Still, she waited expectantly for Duchess Yuzu and Ruri to emerge nonetheless, despite what her languid and unexcited exterior may have implied.

  Inside that walk-in wardrobe, Ruri had great fun at the mercy of Duchess Yuzu and her tastes in fashion. She threw all sorts of cloaks and dresses and petticoats and more at her, expecting her to put at least half of them on her wiry little body. A task which Ruri laughed at but tried to take in good stride. After all, it was rather a good time even with time – and the Red King’s hypothetically empty – threat breathing down their necks.

  When Ruri emerged from the walk-in wardrobe, and appeared before Serena, Serena made an expression which Ruri would cherish forever. She perked up and her tail stiffened before whipping around quickly. Her eyes dilated and widened in rapid succession before darting away, embarrassed, from the general direction of where Ruri stood with Duchess Yuzu lurking beside her, proud as a peacock.

  “She looks good, doesn’t she?” Duchess Yuzu asked smirkfully as she grabbed Ruri’s shoulders before putting her in a forceful spin.

  Ruri giggled as she was forcibly spun. Her hair swished around, so did her petticoats. She had to admit, these Wonderland fashions, as seemingly impractical as they were and would not doubt prove to be, were a lot of fun. She felt good in these clothes; the bouncy, blue skirt and the white pinafore over it with black bird detailing and the jacket that she had been given too. It was all a lot of fun, especially in light of Serena’s reaction, but it all came crashing down when Duchess Yuzu dragged them both out of the castle and back out to the courtyard where destiny – which took the form of various flamingos and a supposed croquet match – waited.

  “We’re good now.” Duchess Yuzu said almost breathlessly to the Red King.

  “Excellent. Then, let the games begin.” he said.

  Upon his rather casual announcement, his sun-and-moon themed bodyguards pulled the strings attached to some party crackles. In a puff of pathetic smoke, limp confetti burst through in reaction. Both party-popper pullers looked rather underwhelmed, but it was difficult to judge as their faces were mostly obscured.

  “Fantastic. I love a thrilling display such as that.” The Red King continued. “Now, let us play.”

  Duke Shuzo then thrust a flamingo into Ruri’s hand. It squawked and flapped its neon pink wings, but she held on tightly until it simpered down, to her shock and astonishment. Meanwhile, more flamingos – help upside down by their skinny legs – were handed out and the first match up of the croquet game followed.

  Ruri then attempted to observe very closely how the game was played. That was impossible. This didn’t look anything like the nice, civil game that fictional pommy British people played in their upper crust backyards on her television. This was chaos. Not even organised chaos. This was little kids playing games and having a ball: yet games were treated most seriously by the older participants of the game.

  The first match up was Ayu against Futoshi and that lasted a few moments. Ayu somehow, miraculously in Ruri’s opinion, disqualified herself but Ruri suspects it had something to do with the fact that Ayu tried to smack Futoshi over the head, purposefully, with her flamingo. She seemed to have a rather blood-thirsty play style. So, Futoshi won, only to lose in his next match against Tatsuya.

  Tatsuya then in turn trumped Futoshi because Futoshi made the surprisingly illegal move of summoning badly drawn dinosaurs onto the field, which Ruri thought was strange. After all, they permitted those little purple parrots to be there, but she still had no clue what any of the rules were. But, at least from this match, she gleaned some understanding on how to earn points. Futoshi may have lost but at not before scoring at least eight points because he got the rolled-up hedgehog croquet balls through the hoops a couple of times.

  Proceeding Tatsuya against Futoshi was Tatsuya against the little child of indeterminate gender whose names was soon thereafter revealed as being Reira. The match which ensued between Tatsuya and Reira was, to Ruri’s surprise, the game which most resembled what she knew of croquet. Points were scored rather tamely and steadily. Both childs put up a good fight, but as time drew on – and compared to the previous matches which had spanned a top of seventeen minutes – the match grew fiercer and fiercer and in the direction of Reira’s eventual win. Reira had a rather meek play style, but it scored them more points, all in all, than Tatsuya.

  Still, as the little sibling of the Red King, Ruri was secretly gladdened that Reira’s win seemed to have been outside of the influence or domain of such an older brother who did proudly look on when Reira was crowned victorious. And with such a win under their belt, the next round followed with the other, slightly older age group followed.

  Duchess Yuzu played a match against one of King Reiji’s consorts who was a youth by the name of Shingo and claimed to have many more ‘newer’ and ‘neo’ names, all suitable to his status as a supernova. Personality-wise, Shingo – who was apparently a viscount or something – was a more regrettable choice on his decision of allowing such a boastful person in his inner sanctum. Though, Duchess Yuzu was quite thrilled at the match-up regardless.

  Their game spanned about forty-two minutes and it was rather rapturously enjoyable from the sidelines. Shingo may have been a braggart showman, but he was still a showman. His game was marvellously exciting and rife with slapstick comedy that Duchess Yuzu was more than happy to facilitate with the aide of her paper fan; a weapon of choice which Ruri was surprised to realise was permitted. And such a weapon did aide her finely when she used it to distract Shingo from earning the final point he needed and instead claiming it for herself, breaking what was the deuce between them and therefore ending the game in Duchess Yuzu’s favour.

  With the first win under her belt, King Reiji decided that his darling Duchess Yuzu would then go against his sun-themed body guard, Hikage the Tweedle-Sun. Hikage was promptly defeated by Duchess Yuzu in about eight minutes. It was difficult to discern, from Ruri’s perspective, if it was because Hikage had just stood there, uncaring or caring too much. Regardless, Duchess Yuzu won and therefore she could proceed to the next round, which was supposed to be versing against Serena, but someone late finally decided to show up.

  With hop, hop, hopping, Sora the White Rabbit finally returned from wherever he had gone and apparently where he had gone had had plenty of candy in return for getting lost, lost, lost. Regardless, with a long-suffering sigh, Red King Reiji made rearrangements to his schedule so that this mischievous rabbit could play too. Rather than have Duchess Yuzu against the Cheshire Cat, he decided that Sora would play Tsukikage the Tweedle-Moon since Tweedle-Sun had already lost to Duchess Yuzu.

  Compared to the match between Duchess Yuzu and Hikage which had been very quick and rather unexciting, Sora and Tsukikage’s match was wildly different. It was weird and rollicking, filled with pranks and not all that much point scoring. The two were more preoccupied on who could be stealthier, and both were proving to be rather finicky contestants in that department. After all, there was no shadow like that of the mysterious moon’s, but it seemed that bunny rabbits could be just as deceptive and feral. In the half an hour or so their game spanned, not a single point which Ruri could properly count was scored and when their game hit about thirty-nine minutes, the Red King decided that they would squander no further time. Thus, resulting in the first – and only – match without a winner. It wasn’t necessarily a draw, but both boys were decided, externally, to be losers.

  With Sora against Tsukikage settled, as petulantly as possible, the match up of Duchess Yuzu against Serena could go ahead. And what a match it was. Both girls seemed equally capable of winning, but Serena had the, surprisingly legal, advantage of invisibility and that gave her an edge over the Duchess and became key to her very well-wrought win. One which had taken Ruri’s breath away when Red King Reiji personally adjudicated the final point to go to Serena.

  Yet, despite this advantage, when Serena was deemed fit to proceed in the match-ups, it was not she who want in her next game. Even when the Red King decided, in his infinite wisdom, that her opponent was to be Ruri. Simple, avian Ruri from a different world entirely who didn’t even know a fraction of the game’s rules.

  Ruri found that her heart did not stop pounding from the moment she went onto the field clutching the flamingo’s legs like pearls to all the way to where she stood presently on the cliff’s edge. It had been all sorts of heart-pounding: terror, enjoyment, excitement, fear, and more. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump: her heart did pound as she played, and Serena gave her all throughout. There was not mercy from that kitty-cat. But Ruri persevered and in it, she had a grand time, thwacking and swacking at the hedgehog balls, getting them through the hoops nailed into the ground enough times to put her over the edge.

  The game likely lasted for about twenty-three minutes and what a twenty-three minutes they were. Ruri enjoyed every single second, even when she teetered and tottered because she had no idea what she was doing but she was doing it fabulously, even against Serena who could turn invisible and had the even more lawding advantage of knowing how to play this strange brand of croquet.

  And when the hoops were shot through for the final time, Ruri was ecstatic to be crowned the victor. Something that Serena made her feel even more amazing about when she praised Ruri for how she played. The little bird had gotten away from the cat this time.

  Having won in the seemingly unfairly chosen brackets, Ruri had, in hindsight rather vainly, assumed that she had won over everyone. But then, he who had not yet played coughed and then delicately was handed a flamingo. It was now Red King Reiji’s turn to play and he wanted to play with Ruri as Ruri had been the one to emerge from said brackets in victory.

  However, Ruri was not one to back away from a challenge. She may face up to said challenges with a quickening pace in her chest and a dribble from her eye, but she always found the courage somewhere so, she decided to face up to her fears and take the Red King on in this fantastical game of flamingo croquet.

   Despite the frivolity of Shingo’s showmanship and the manoeuvres of the match between Sora and Tsukikage, the match between Ruri and Red King Reiji was soon perceived as the uncontestably most violent. Their match was aggressively hard-headed, but it was surprisingly fun, Ruri found. It was difficult but she got there in the end and managed to do what no one thought was possible.

  Ruri toppled the Red King. She was the winner with fifty-seven points whereas Red King Reiji had only scored fifty-six in the time the match spanned which was about sixty-seven minutes long, making it the longest game as well. Not that Ruri felt such a thing. She had spent so much of it running for her life with a flamingo in her hands that it had hadn’t felt all that long at all.

  However, regardless, Ruri had won. The Red King had not and that had made him very, very, very mad.

  His whole court stood quiet. Even Duchess Yuzu who seemed to be on a very playful note had turned solemn when they all watched a cruel glower form across his grey brow.

  “I’ve never been defeated before.” he announced; his voice was threadbare. “Especially not by some interloper from another world.”

  “W-Well, um, good game, right?” Ruri had asked in humble futility.

  “Off… with… her… head!” the Red King announced tersely.

  “W-W-W-Wait! Surely, she’s entitled to her win. She won fair and square.” Serena said with flailing hand gestures.

  “Exactly,” Duchess Yuzu replied, derisive and with her hands on her hips, “and if she has not, then she deserves a trial at the very least to determine if she has won fair and square or not. I summon… the Mock Turtle and his assistant, the Gryphon.”

  “Um, Duchess Yuzu, not to impede on your brilliance or anything…” Sora piped up with a rather nervous demeanour. “But, isn’t the, uh, Mock Turtle… for mocking? He’s our jester! Well, our jester. Your and Reiji’s… plaything.”

  “Er, any defence is better than no defence.” Ruri decided to mumble.

  The Red King grinned widely and madly. “Fantastic. Let us summon the Mock Turtle right away. This ought to be good.”

  “Really he should have been here from the start,” Duchess Yuzu huffed, “after all, it’s very rude of him to miss such a game of croquet played between us both.”

  With a snap of his fingers, Red King Reiji’s playing card soldiers were falling over one another to summon the mysterious duo of the Mock Turtle and the Gryphon to the courtyard. In the meantime, for their amusement and to help officiate this mock trial, Tweedle-Sun and Tweedle-Moon constructed a podium for the trials to take place. Something that was then decorated with various flowers by Duchess Yuzu and Sora in protest of Ruri’s supposed crimes.

  Regardless, eventually, Ruri was introduced to the Mock Turtle and his assistant the Gryphon. And they were most certainly not the pair that she had been expecting. Especially not as her defence. They were a joke. Quite literally. A comedic routine between them; Yuya the Mock Turtle, a sheepish yet draconic-looking lad, and Noboru the Gryphon with white wings of justice.

  “I am persecuting Ruri of Not Wonderland with the crimes of cheating in a game of croquet against me, the sovereign ruler of Wonderland. How do you plead?” the Red King asked, pacing, in front of Ruri was placed behind.

  “Not guilty.” She said.

  “Don’t be insolent, your clearly guilty.” snapped Red King Reiji. “Defence, how do you stand?” He barked his question at the pair who jittered.

  “Um… uh… no, your right. She clearly cheated. No one’s ever beaten the King at croquet before. Not even me! Or Yuzu!” exclaimed Yuya.

  “Yuya…” Noboru groaned. “I may have only just met this lass, but I feel she is kind of heart and wing. I say… not guilty.”

  “Exactly! I played and I played to the best of my ability. We don’t play like that where I’m from; I didn’t even have any of the rules. How could I have cheated if I didn’t know how to win in the first place? You’re just a spoiled sore loser, Reiji.” Ruri caustically spat.

  “Off with her head! She must be guilty; no one else would back chat me like that!” screamed Red King Reiji.

  “She’s not from here…” Yuya mumbled, eyes widening.

  “Here she is not from.” Noboru sagely added.

  “Yes, I’m not from here?” Ruri affirmed.

  “Your honour, my King, but you have no right to accuse this girl of cheating because you are accusing her on the grounds of Wonderland, and she is not from here. Therefore, she can’t be tried and must be acquitted. She is not guilty. She won fair and square despite these advantages, sir.” Noboru said.

  “Yeah! Exactly!” Yuya piped up. “As her defence, that’s how we plead.”

  “Thank you so much!” Ruri tearfully exclaimed.

  “How can she not be tried on my laws if she is however currently standing on my land then?” Red King Reiji inquired.

  “Oh no…” Ruri mumbled.

  “Oh, that’s easy,” Yuya said, “she’s not standing on your land.”

  “What, huh?” Noboru said and Yuya grabbed his hand.

  He carted Noboru to behind the stand. He then whispered in both Ruri and Noboru’s ears and they were both delighted by this plan that Yuya had concocted. With a squeal and a kick, Ruri allowed herself to be picked up and placed on Yuya’s shoulders and he, in turn, was then placed on Noboru’s.

  “See? She’s not standing on your land therefore she cannot be tried by your land’s laws.” Yuya said, uppity.

  Ruri stuck out her tongue. She thought – and she still does think – that Yuya was very clever in his retort. She especially thought that he and Noboru were much, physically stronger than they looked; like circus people, she thought and still does think.

  However, regardless, Ruri had won. The Red King had not and that had made him very, very, very impressed.

  “Congratulations, Ruri of Not Wonderland,” he told her to officiate the ending of the trial, “as winner, of both this trial and your croquet match against me, you may request a prize of me.” He pushed up his glasses.

  “A prize?” Ruri echoed from up on high.

  “You can ask for anything in all the worlds.” the Red King replied.

  “I can? Amazing…” Ruri mumbled and she glanced at Serena. “Anything at all?”

  “Yes. Was that not clear?” he asked.

  “Can I ask to return home? A-And can I bring someone with me? I want to take her on an adventure like the one that she has taken me.” Ruri said with yet another glance cast backwards towards Serena who folded her arms embarrassedly but by the flicks that her ears and tail were giving, she seemed rather willing in her obstinance.

  “I don’t see why not. I mean, I let that rodent Sora venture out and I’m quite sure that feline will be more well-behaved than him.” The Red King sighed with a shrug.

  “Hey…” Sora groaned with an accusatory glare.

  “Very well, you have my blessing.” the Red King said with a flippant hand gesture.

  “Yippee! Fantastic! Oh this is going to be most wonderful!” Ruri squealed.

  Her excitement slowly caused the people pyramid she was on top of topple. Noboru stumbled one way whilst Yuya swung another on top of his shoulders. Ruri swung both ways and then some. All made terrified and surprised wobbling noises with their mouths.

  Serena, not frozen despite her fear for how things could go wrong, sprung into action. She followed them this way and that way until they all came tumbling down like Humpty Dumpty. Noboru landed on his behind and Yuya landed on his head. Both groaned and heaved but were ultimately okay. Ruri was far more fortunate for she had the proactive Serena who pounced at her in the right moment and swaddled her safely. Embracing her not unlike a bride and carrying her away from where she could have hurt either Yuya or Noboru, or where they could have hurt her.

  “Thank you muchly, my pussy cat.” Ruri murmured into Serena’s ear whilst Serena set her down.

  “No, thank you, my birdie-boo.” Serena replied.

  “Are you ready?” Ruri asked as she stumbled slightly, getting her land legs once more whilst the blood cooled from all the adrenaline that it had been producing.

  “Of course, I;m ready.” Serena replied with an ardent gaze in her eyes.

  With those words still ringing through her head, Ruri awoke from her reverie. She enjoyed the whistle of the wind on her face and on her ears. She had one hand locked against Serena’s; her palms were kind of squishy, it was cute.

  “Are you ready?” Ruri asked.

  “Born ready.” Serena replied.

  One, two, three…

  Both girls took the jump. They squealed on the way down as they plunged through the air which felt like shuffled cards flicking against their skin. Their friends cheered as they careened downwards through the air and it was the most keenly aware fugue state that Ruri had ever enjoyed with Serena’s hand squeezing tightly onto hers. It was real. It was about to begin. Their new story; their new adventure; and neither girl could hardly wait as they waited to hit the ground and jump back up through the rabbit hole and into another wonderful world for them to adventure through together.

[broomballkraken]

Title: Forevermore

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Pairing: Sylvain/Lorenz

Word count: 1296

Warnings: Graphic violence, character death, blood and gore, eye trauma

Summary: Life is a fragile thing, especially in times of war. Each battle could be the last, and unfortunately for Sylvain and Lorenz, that battle is upon them.

Fighting a war was always a risky endeavor. Every battle provided ample risk of being killed in a variety of awful ways, but Sylvain had always been pretty lucky to avoid getting too seriously injured. Until now, that is.

“F-Fuck…” Sylvain choked out, blood leaking out of the corner of his mouth as he clutched his wounded hip. A large chunk of his flesh had been ripped off by a well-timed gauntlet attack, and it was bleeding at a concerning rate. However, that wound was the least of his worries at the moment, for his free hand was clutching the shaft of an arrow, the point of which was lodged firmly into Sylvain’s right eye socket.

Clenching his teeth tightly and taking a deep breath, Sylvain’s grip tightened on the arrow and he swiftly pulled it out, taking his eye with it. He screamed as a pain he had never felt before flooded through his head, and he dropped the arrow and fell to his knees. His hand flew to his now empty eye socket, blood gushing from the horrific wound and falling down Sylvain’s face like a waterfall.

Breathing heavily, Sylvain forced himself to his feet, and resumed his search for his lover. He had heard Lorenz let out a scream, and it was when Sylvain had turned his head towards the sound that the arrow had pierced his eye. His remaining eye scanned the bodies on the battlefield, until he spotted a familiar shade of purple, and he stumbled towards it as fast as he could.

“Lorenz, you-” Sylvain started, but the rest of his words caught in his throat when he saw the horrific state that his lover was in, and the color drained from Sylvain’s face. Lorenz was lying face down, still clutching his lance, his breathing ragged. Sylvain’s gaze immediately went to his legs, or rather, where his legs should have been. His left leg was severed at the knee, and the severed portion was lying a few feet away. His right leg was cut off straight up to his upper thigh, and the missing portion was nowhere to be seen. A massive amount of blood was pooling beneath him, and Sylvain was too shocked to react right away.

“S-Sylvain…” Lorenz wheezed, coughing up blood as he struggled to look up, and his tear-filled eyes meeting Sylvain’s, “Y-your eye...oh my...my dear…”

“S-Shut up, idiot, you’ll choke to death.” Sylvain said, wiping the blood from his face before reaching down to grab Lorenz’s arm with shaking hands. Sylvain struggled a bit, but managed to pull Lorenz’s arm over his shoulder and start dragging him to a large pile of rubble that they could take cover behind. Lorenz groaned in pain as his stubbed legs scraped along the ground, and Sylvain began to see stars in his good eye. His mind was clouded in a pain-filled haze, and it took all of his remaining willpower to keep his churning stomach from causing him to vomit violently.

As they approached the pile of rubble, Sylvain’s vision suddenly became cloudy, before cutting to complete blackness. He panicked as he struggled to carry Lorenz, but his legs were shaking too badly and he fell to the ground, dropping Lorenz to one side.

“L-Lorenz? I-I can’t see!” Sylvain cried out. He could feel tears falling from his remaining eye as he felt around desperately. One hand hit something solid, like stone, and Sylvain pushed himself up against it as he continued to wave his arms about.

“I-I am here, Sylvain.” he heard Lorenz say, and a hand gripped his arm. Sylvain took hold of Lorenz’s arm, pulling on it until he felt his lover’s head fall to rest on his shoulder.

“You…you good?” Sylvain asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“No.” Lorenz said, letting out a string of wet coughs as he grasped Sylvian’s hand, squeezing it hard. “I...I think I am...dying…” Sylvain gulped as he choked out a sob, wincing as the pain in his hip and eye socket grew exponentially.

“I think it’s...the same for me.” Sylvain managed to choke out, and he lifted his free hand, weak and shaky, wagging his fingers in Lorenz’s direction as he tried to find his face. He felt Lorenz’s hand grab his fingers and he pulled them, helping Sylvain to cup his cheek, so soft, but so deathly cold and moist with a probable combination of blood and tears.

“My...my poor rose...you...you are hurt so badly...I am s-sorry that I could not save you…” Lorenz said, sniffing as he took in a shaky breath.

“I couldn’t save you either...I guess we both really...sucked it up this time, yeah?” Sylvain said, a humorless chuckle escaping him, along with some blood. Lorenz’s hand started shaking in his own, his grip tightening even more.

“Sylvain…” Lorenz breathed. Sylvain stroked his cheek with his thumb, wishing that he could be looking upon the face of the one he loved, “I...I really was looking forward to...growing old with you.” Sylvain barked out a laugh, trying to hide his anguished sobs with little success. He only succeeded in coughing up even more blood, and the coppery taste filled his senses.

“S-same here, babe.” Sylvain said, feeling Lorenz’s head shift a bit on his shoulder as he wretched, and the acidic smell of vomit hit his nose, almost making him follow suit. “B-But look on the b-bright side...At...At least neither of us will have...to l-live without the other…” Sylvain heard Lorenz chuckle weakly, his grip on Sylvain’s hand loosening slightly.

“I suppose...you are correct…” Lorenz said, his shaky voice dropping to a whisper. His breathing was short and shallow, and Sylvain’s heart clenched as he gripped Lorenz’s hand even tighter. “I...It hurts so much, my love…”

“It...It’ll be over soon, babe...I...fuck, I love you so much…” Sylvain said, a wave of pain coursing through him as he sobbed hard, and he felt something soft press against his damp cheek.

“I love you too, Sylvain...My b-beautiful rose...I-I will be waiting for you a-at the side of the Goddess...D-Don’t keep me waiting too long…” Lorenz said as he gasped for breath, “Sylvain...Sylvain, I love...you...I...I love…” Lorenz’s hand suddenly stiffened in Sylvain’s grip before going limp, and despair filled his heart as Sylvain heard Lorenz take a shaky breath and let it out, a deafening silence left in its wake.

“L-Lorenz?” Sylvain barely managed to squeak out though the lump in his throat. He began shaking violently as he felt his way up Lorenz’s body to his neck. Pressing his fingers to his cold, clammy skin, he felt nothing, no pulse. Sylvain clenched his jaw before letting out an anguished wail, and he barely noticed the excruciating pain of his wounds as he screamed, as the pain of his broken heart drowned out all else.

“I-I’ll be with you soon, babe...Wait for...me...Lorenz...my love…” Sylvain choked out, suddenly exhausted from his sudden outburst. He cringed as a horrid pain shot through his chest, and he struggled to breath. He managed to force a small smile to cross his face as he rest his head on Lorenz’s, his cheek rubbing against that beautiful purple hair that he loved so much, but unfortunately could not look upon one last time. “Lorenz…”

Sylvain took in the deepest breath he could and, with a final bloody cough, the air left his lungs for the final time. Sylvain’s one last hope was that he would undoubtedly end up with the goddess and reunite with Lorenz, the love of his life, and spend whatever afterlife there was with him, forevermore.

[amethystpath-writes]

🙊 Current Prompt

💫 Requested

X Completed

☆☆☆

Prompt: Dying In Their Arms

Fandom: Original

@badthingshappenbingo

**********************************************

Rowan felt every bit of dread as he dragged the bag behind him. He could smell the metal in the air swirling around him. He felt so sick. His head was stuck in a bubble, sound was muffled, the world was blurry. Why did his father make him come out here? Why was this so important to him? Rowan felt this was a thousand times worse than shooting a deer.

“Come on, son! You’re slower than your mother getting ready for a night out!” Rowan genuinely couldn’t understand how he was able to joke around like it was any other day. To his father, maybe it was, but Rowan felt sick to his stomach carrying out this deed.

“How long have you been going about this?” Rowan stopped and looked back at the trash bag he was dragging. Their ‘prize’ was so big that his father had to cut out the bottom of the bag so that the feathers didn’t get crushed. The feathers were more valuable individually than they were still on the wings. But if that was the case, why hadn’t they just plucked the feathers and stuck them in the bag? It would have been lighter, too.

Rowan gagged. How could he be thinking like that? He was just as bad as his dad. Who cares if it’s lighter! They killed something- someone. Rowan couldn’t forget the fact; they were just as much as a human as he was. God, she wasn’t even prepared for the attack. He tried to imagine himself in her situation. She wasn’t any older than Rowan was, probably a few years younger, actually. He thought about it, he was only sixteen. She had to have been fifteen. Fifteen.

They were killing a fifteen year old. She wasn’t dead when they left, he could still hear her wails if he listened hard enough. But she was certainly bleeding out. She had to have been. There were two gaping holes in her back! Of course she was dying. And maybe he couldn’t stop it from happening, but he could at least try, right? He could try and if his efforts failed, then he could comfort her.

Rowan dropped the bag. “I won’t do this again,” he yelled to his father, who hadn’t stopped even when his son did. As his father turned back to ask what Rowan meant, Rowan fell into a dead sprint as he raced back to the winged girl they had shot down.

“You get back here!” His father yelled. “You hear me! You come back-”

Rowan ignored him, pushing against the ground as quickly as he could. If only he had his own wings to carry him to the dying girl.

When he finally found her, he let his knees scrape across the pine needles on the ground. He regretted it almost immediately. He was just so desperate to get to her that he went slack when he was finally close enough.

He brought his hand to her cheek,continuously mumbling, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He was crying now as his knees became soaked in the angel’s blood. It was his fault. It was all his fault. How could he have done this? No, he didn’t carve the wings off of her body, but he was the one to hold her down, to flip her on her stomach and pin her beneath his knees. “Oh my God...”

She was shaking and her breathing was becoming quicker. “No, no. Don’t do that.“ Now Rowan was panicking. If she was breathing faster, that meant her heart was beating faster, which also meant her blood was rushing faster. Rowan let his hand fall from her cheek. “I’m here to help. I-I promise. Here-” he pulled off his t-shirt. It was big on him, and it would be even more so on her, which would mean it could easily be tied around her. “It could...stop the bleeding.”

She shook her head quickly. Her breathing was slowing down once again, but she was still scared. Being held down was just as bad, if not worse, than her wings being cut off. Sure, the pain was agonizing, but nothing was worse than being restrained. She could have prevented it all if only she knew what was coming. The boy practically tackled her, and he came from out of nowhere. She had no chance.

“Please,” he begged, clutching the shirt tightly. “I want to help. What I did earlier...It wasn’t me, okay? I don’t do this stuff. I mean, I know I did today, but that was my first and last time!” He looked away. The girl was trying so hard to hide her pain. Every once in a while, a whimper would slip passed her lips. “What’s your name, hmm?”

The girl reached for the shirt with a trembling hand. “Will you- Will you tie it around the wound?” She hated asking for his help, especially after refusing it already. If he ever meant well then why did he do something like this to begin with? However, she didn’t want to die, she had more to fulfill in life. Even if this boy did kill her in the end, at least there was a chance for survival with a rag to stop the blood.

Rowan nodded quickly, moving to help the angel sit up. She was still hesitant, shaking as his hands crawled on her skin. She was terrified, genuinely terrified, but she needed this. She needed to live. She was so young, only seventy-three years old. She couldn’t be done already. She hadn’t even learned how to glide with her wings yet.

As Rowan tied the shirt, he did his best not to gag. He wasn’t the greatest fan of blood, and there was a lot of it. Her sobs of pain weren’t helping. But, when she spit out her name to him, his urges of illness faded away. She actually did it, she told him her name. Melody. It was such a beautiful name.

To Rowan’s surprise, the angel nestled her head into his lap. “If I weren’t already dying, my family would kill me.” Melody sighed before beginning to cough. “I’m not supposed to be here without my brother. He’s much older than I am, he knows how this world works, the horrors of it all.”

“How old is your brother?”

The angel smiled before answering, already knowing the human boy’s reaction. “Three hundred and twenty-one years old.”

Rowan’s eyes went wider than the moon. “Excuse me, what?”

“How old do you think I am, hunter?” she mused.

“Well, uh, like fifteen...I thought.” He thought it impossible for her to be serious about her brother’s age, but then again, this was an angel he was talking to.

Her laugh was a melody in itself. “Oh, no. I wouldn’t have even been walking at that age! I’m seventy-three.” Aging was very slow for her kind. They didn’t walk until twenty and speak until twenty-two. From there, their mentality aged quickly, but their bodies were slow to catch up. Her laughing came to a halt as she began coughing again. She was becoming closer to death with every passing second.

“Is there anything else I can do to help?” he asked sadly. He hated this, he hated it more than anything. He was the cause of her dying.

“Tell me your name, hunter.” Her voice was soft now, but not quite a whisper yet.

“Rowan,” he smiled down at her. Her eyes were squinted as she stared at the light, but even with half-closed eyes, Rowan saw their beautiful honey color shimmering in the sunlight. It was a shame to see them dying. “Anything else, Melody?”

“No. Just let me look at the trees one more time and promise that you’ll admire the way sun shines through the leaves with me. And promise you’ll admire it when I’m gone, too. Don’t let me die without making that promise.”

“I promise.” And with that, the angel, Melody, went slack on Rowan’s lap.

“You ever do anything like that again,” Rowan heard his father’s voice say just ahead of him. He stroked Melody’s hair once, and then a second time before softly lying her head on the ground and closing her eyes. “And I will send you to the angels in two different pieces. You understand?”

[flyswhumpcenter]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me I give myself self-indulgent requests according to this marvelous card!

RIP dividing lines, you were a gift I didn’t realize I deeply needed until this hellsite got rid of you. You’ll forever be missed.

I don’t really know why my brain decided that tonight I’d write Arc-V fanfiction in 2019 of all things, but it’s here, it’s weird, it’s shabby and it was fun. I’ve been obsessed with that one part of the first season so it was bound to happen lmao.  I hope you enjoy my take on local edge boi Shun.

-----

Dyspnea

Summary: It hurts to breathe, it hurts to move; but the lone soldier can only move on and sustain the pain, because nobody is here to support him through the hardships of war.

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Arc-V

Wordcount: 1.3K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

-----

Fucking hell did it hurt to even move.

 Once upon a time, what felt like forever ago, he’d have been able to endure that without pushing on his resources this badly. He’d have probably gotten an x-ray, would have been told to stay still for a while, and it’d have been just fine. Perhaps he’d have even gotten a small surgery to complete the process.

But this was then and now was now: he was alone, a stranger in a strange world, only able to rely on himself despite the dire situation he had found himself in.

 That Fusion bastard’s twisted face hadn’t been enough, apparently. Watching his fellow Raid Raptors, his only real companions when Ruri was gone and Yuto was nowhere to be found, get beheaded right in front of his then-trembling body, hearing their cries for help and Shiunin’s mad laughter resonate through the stone building, had only been a part of what seemed to be his punishment for what they called “extreme, excessive, desperate measures”. He didn’t know how to judge that himself: that was just how he did things, as effectively as possible without losing never-enough time to any bullshit like “trying to reason the enemy”. There was no reasoning to be had on the battlefield.

 It wasn’t just about public humiliation. He didn’t care for that: other people’s judgements were only a potential loss of time and thoughts. It also wasn’t simply a matter of honour: his had already gone into ashes when the invasion had begun, when he had let his own sister disappear from his sight never to be seen again. He had everything to plead forgiveness for aside from his ways and goals. But forgiveness was absent from the battlefield, so he was supposed to continue on without giving others much thought. Revenge was all that mattered. Revenge, revenge, revenge.

 No, instead, Shun had a much bigger issue to deal with right at this moment that wasn’t about judgement, the others, or his pride. The shockwave from his crushing defeat had made him exit the building in the least gracious way he could have gone through with that: flying out of there, then hurling down a flight of stairs, a bolt of pain hitting each and every time his chest hit the stone until there were no more steps to break his bones against.

 He didn’t escape the fall unscathed.

 He was used to getting a beating and getting up back from it. Bruises didn’t mean anything anymore as he didn’t let them hurt him for more than the moment he’d discover them. Cuts weren’t deeper than you wanted them to be. Injuries didn’t mean much if they didn’t carry any weight, any message to them, like scars whose story had been forgotten.

Yet, getting up from that had been arduous, if not unbearable. The shame wasn’t the only thing weighting on his shoulder and keeping his knees under a lock: there was the pain, the blinding, torturous, horrid pain shooting through his chest as soon as he attempted to get up and continue on. It was unlike anything he had suffered from before, even with all things considered and all mishaps that had happened taken in account.

 It hurt to do anything. It hurt to move, it hurt to think, it hurt to get up, it hurt to even breathe.

 And yet, all he could do was rise on his feet and flee. Run away and fight against other people for his sister’s freedom, his friend’s safety and his dimension’s honour. Like a soldier, he had to act without thinking of himself much, just execute the orders he knew were right. If he stopped moving to think, he’d feel his pain, he’d let his knees buckle under its force, he’d let himself be vulnerable; and he couldn’t let that happen in any circumstance. There was no hope, no salvation for the lone soldier that succumbed to his wounds.

So Shun kept pressing; or, at least, attempted to.

 It took him ages, painfully long seconds to even get up from his fall. The beating had been this harsh: he was unable to speak, unable to really breathe in or out, clutching his ribs in an attempt to control the dolour pulsing through them. There was this girl – maybe her name was Serena, or Hiiragi, he forgot to follow and his memories were stained by the pain – and she was trying to help him. He didn’t know why, he didn’t think twice: he took the hand and forgot he had done so right afterwards, preferring to see it as an act of survival rather than a doing of need for assistance.

He was alone, all alone, and he just had trusted someone because he couldn’t do otherwise. Pathetic.

 Running was difficult, more than he’d have ever anticipated. He was now certain he had broken his ribs, not just fractured them: they seemed to slightly move as he ran from that Fusion freak, pulses of pain ringing through his chest every time he took a step, walked or run, threatening to pierce his lung and make him lose all breathing altogether. He couldn’t let that happen to him, but did he have a solution aside from running away from imminent danger despite his injuries? No.

So he’d keep running until he ran out of air, until something would go horribly wrong; because things had already gone sour for him and all he had left was the slim hope that he’d get out of there, exhausted and suffering, but alive and able to still do something. He’d go to the end, he’d press on until he’d be dead; and if his demise was now, then so be it, because it seemed like things wouldn’t get any better from there.

 And yet, despite being a lone soldier with a heart of stone and lacking any polish, people had come to his aid.

 It had started with Serena (her name was Serena; he was surer of that now). For some reason outside of his mind, she had decided he’d be worth helping despite them being on opposite sides of the war (she was from Fusion, right? That freak had been surprised to see her bust out a Fusion Duel Disk). Was he grateful for her helping hand? He wished he could have said no, but he knew he was at least somewhat glad to have had that to get him out of there. Maybe “glad” wasn’t the right word.

Then there were this pair of ninja brothers, stopping Shiunin in his tracks and allowing Serena and him to continue fleeing from danger. They seemed to have mostly wanted to help her out, and he just happened to slow her down considerably (damn fractures…), even if he was starting to doubt this judgement. Maybe. When he’d have time to breathe, he’d consider revising it for more than a single afterthought, a little thing that had popped in his mind along the lines of “maybe they did pay attention to the other guy with her”. He didn’t have time of the day to do more than that.

 His ribs still hurt tremendously, if not more and more as time went on, when three masked soldiers corned the three of them in the Volcano Area. Yet, because it was only fair to do so, he swore he’d protect the one who had helped him out, putting a hand before Serena, fully intending to fight at full volume despite the difficulty to breathe and think entirely clear. He wouldn’t be able to call himself a last man standing for this battle, nor a lone soldier. Other casualties weren’t needed, so he’d make it quick, sharp and to-the-point. He’d defeat them all and avoid more victims to fall in their claws.

 It hurt to breathe; but perhaps it hurt less than watching people lose themselves to a war they didn’t comprehend.

[ladyleoart]

First Time For Everything

Fandom: Marvel - Avengers {MCU} AU:  Domestic Avengers - Let’s pretend they’re in a time bubble, I just want them to be HAPPY okay! Pairing: Steve/Tony {Stony} Rating: This is a solid fucking G, basically? Sex implied Warning(s): None <3 Prompt: "Stony goes through a haunted house, Steve does bobbing for apples for the first time, Tony takes Steve trick or treating" 

For: Eric @fiction-is-my-diction also viewable on ao3!

(Note: Bucky’s halloween costume is actually inspired by this post from @dorkcoffee !! Amazing artist <3)

--

Captain America is a symbol of hope. He’s an American icon, but his reach extends beyond its shores and touches the heart of every dreamer, the fiery soul of every broken and beaten outcast, the spot buried deep in anyone who looks into the face of inequality and inhumane treatment and yearns to kick and scratch bloody stripes into their skin. He’s a hero, a role model, a mythical figure in his own right.

And he’s terrified of robot babies.

Tony can’t believe it, but it’s true - Captain America has fears, and not something so grand and vague as fascism, war, or another metaphoric big bad. His fear is the goddamn animatronic baby in the haunted house crib.

“Steve, it’s not real.”

“I know that!” He groans, fingers digging into Tony’s arm so hard it hurts.

“We can’t leave until we walk past it.”

“I know that too!” His feet seem to be glued to the spot, and the baby’s scripted routine of jerking upright and wailing resets, causing Steve to jerk and yank Tony’s arm nearly out of the socket.

“Steve,” he hisses involuntarily, and the star-spangled crybaby relents slightly, allowing Tony to roll his sore shoulder and grab his wrist instead. “Alright, come on, I’ve got you.”

A soft whimper and at first Steve’s dragging his feet through the small “nursery”, but once the baby lays back down Tony is able to pull him out the draped doorway and into a hall of mirrors.

As they wander through, Steve seems to calm down; he’s almost back to normal by the time they make it to the exit - but Tony can still feel him flinch when a short little vampire pops out for one last jumpscare. The kid must be about sixteen, but Steve glares him down like he’s Red Skull all over again; Tony can’t help but slide him a twenty to make up for what are most likely stained pants as he drags his surly boyfriend across the lawn of the haunted house.

Steve is dead silent - pun intended - and Tony shoulder checks him gently. “They do say it’s the scariest haunted house on the east coast.”

“I am never doing this ever again,” Steve snaps, but the pout says he’s more embarrassed than angry.

“Hey, at least that kid has a story to tell about the time he almost made Captain America cry.”

“Oh shut up.”

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

They show up to the Halloween party fashionably late - a quick pit stop to change into their costumes turned into Tony’s suggestive “Trick or Treat” implications which turned into a quick tumble in the sheets. Eventually, Steve manages to get into his cowboy costume without Tony prying pieces of it back off, even if it means he has to yank Tony’s grim reaper hood down over his entire face.

There’s music playing and lights pulsing when they finally make it into the party, which is conveniently located three floors under their penthouse apartment in Stark Tower.

“The party’s at your house and you show up late?” Rhodey greets them with a grin, an arched brow, and two glasses of scotch, one of which he hands off to Tony while initiating their routine banter. He’s making the most of his robotic leg braces and has committed to being a cyborg for the party, complete with glowing red eye-piece.

“Oh, you know traffic always sucks.”

“You know,” Natasha interrupts, appearing from seemingly nowhere to stand directly beside them. “This is the boring business equivalent of a Dad Joke.”

Tony looks horrified. “You take that back, I am funny.”

“Maybe the first time, if I’m being generous.”

“Hey, Nat,” Steve interjects, casually sliding between them to steer her away from a sputtering Tony and laughing Rhodey. “Where are Sam and Bucky?”

“Just arrived to the party and you’re already heading to the time out corner?”

“The what?”

She grins. “That’s what I call the corner where they’re inevitably snarling and glaring at each other.”

He snorts. “Guess I better go make sure they don’t start another brawl.”

“Nice costume by the way,” she gives him a once-over. Natasha herself is wearing what can only be called a combat ballerina costume. Grey tights and steel-toed black boots, a fluffy pink tutu and bedazzled bodice, hair in a tight bun and war paint streaked on her cheeks.

He can’t help but laugh. “You too.”

She salutes him with her glass of vodka and a dangerous smirk.

He finds his two best friends right where Nat suggested - staring each other down in a little corner lounge space. The armchairs are plush and they’re sprawled in relaxed poses, but the tension in the air does nothing to suggest comfort - in fact, the chairs seem to have been yanked out of place so they can stare unblinking over their bottles of beer. Sam is decked out in what he calls “modern warlock regalia” which is really just a fancy, fitted charcoal gray suit and a velvet magenta duster, both dripping with chains and jewels. Bucky, true to form, has gone the lazy route with his costume. He’s wearing a blousey black shirt with loose sleeves that has a laced front undone to mid-torso, tucked into tight black pants and tall boots with several belts and a red sash.

“Are you a prince, or a pirate?” Steve interrupts their staredown brightly.

“Pirate,” Bucky spits, wiggling his many-ringed fingers and taking a long swig of Sam Adams’ Octoberfest without breaking eye contact.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Steve frowns sternly. “This is a party and we are here to have fun. No more pissing contest, ya hear me!”

“Aw, fine.” Sam is the first to break and cave to societal convention. “I know what to do!”

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

Bucky is scowling and Sam is grinning and Steve is wary, but Thor enthusiastically grabs them all in a big bear hug as they approach the bucket of water.

“Bobbing for apples?” Bucky’s brow is arched sharply as he squirms away from the embrace, but his relaxed stance betrays his interest.

“On Asgard we call it epli grípa,” Thor explains. “And it is a great game of sport.”

“I saw Thor carrying in the bucket,” Sam explains excitedly. “My cousins and I used to love bobbing for apples as kids.”

“Y’know,” Steve muses aloud, “I don’t think I ever did bob for apples.”

“Wait what?” Bucky frowns. “I did.”

Steve smiles wryly. “I think too many dunks in the school toilet turned me off the concept.”

Sam spins to look at him, incredulous. “You got swirlies?”

“There’s a name for those?”

“Oh yeah,” Tony grins, sliding up behind them and wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist. “I had my fair share, being the misunderstood rich genius that I was.”

Rhodey snorts. “You were a smart-ass punk and everyone could see it.”

“Same thing,” he waves a hand dismissively. “All geniuses are inherently misunderstood.”

“Now!” Thor grins. “Will the Captain be the first to…bob?”

He pauses, and Tony nudges him. “Go on then, Cowboy. Reclaim your honor.”

“Reclaim his honor?” Bucky frowns.

“Don’t you dare!” Steve snaps.

Tony smirks. “If you can catch the apple within three tries, I take the secret……to the grave.”

Natasha, passing by with Pepper and Darcy and a plate of snacks, groans. “Oh, reaper puns? Now it’s getting worse.”

“You shut up, you,” Tony points at her sternly, shaking his scythe, and she sticks out her tongue.

“Fine,” Steve declares, pulling attention back to himself. “I’ll accept your challenge.”

“When have you not accepted a challenge?” Bucky mutters.

Thor claps firmly, grinning broadly. “Yes!”

“I kinda wanna hear the story,” Sam wonders aloud, and Tony winks.

Steve is focused on the tub of water like it hold the secrets of the universe, eyebrows furrowed with concentration.

It’s like watching a blind dog try to find its water dish in the dark. He’s flailing and pecking at the water like a chicken, and Tony Is trying so hard not to pee himself laughing. In the end he goes past three attempts with no success, a fact which seems to drive him further out of spite. Steve is nearly submerging his entire head at this point, and eventually Bucky and Tony have to pull him back by the arms - with an apple clutched firmly in his teeth.

“Good job babe,” Tony smiles, pulling the apple free and taking a bite. “I’m still telling the story though.”

Steve groans, proud grin falling into a resigned expression. “I knoooow….”

So Tony gets the treat in the end.

[mrslittletall]

Title: Keeping it together (Chapter 18) Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Silver Knights Word Count: 1.986 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16328084/chapters/42276842 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/182847826289/title-keeping-it-together-chapter-17

Summary: In which Ornstein starts to take care of stuff.

Ornstein was sitting next to the privy, rubbing his upset stomach. He had visted the privy to relief himself before he would set off to the Burg, but as soon as he had entered the small room, his nausea had acted up and he managed to force a majority of his breakfast back out. He sat on the ground a while longer, waiting for the nausea to subdue, trying to calm his stomach down with deep breathes. Once his stomach had calmed down, he remembered that he still needed to relief himself, but he found it kinda gross to use the same privy he had just puked in and ventured to another one for it. On his way to wash his hands and get a jar of water for the sour taste in his mouth, he ran into Terrick.

“Ah, captain, perfect that I run into you, I have written down the location of the demon sighting.”, he said and gave Ornstein a piece of paper.

“Thank you, Terrick.”, Ornstein said, trying to not give up an impression that he just had puked. As soon as the dragon slayer had washed his hands at the cathedral well, gargling his mouth with the fresh water, he took a look at the paper. The demon in question seemed to have made one of the towers of the Burg its home and from Terrick's informations some of the infantry soldiers there had fallen victim to it. He spat out the mouthful of water in a nearby bucket and folded the piece of paper to put it into his armour, grabbing his spear, making his way to the Burg.

Arrived at the Burg, Ornstein could feel the gazes of the infantry soldiers on him. He wasn't surprised, he rarely was seen in the human settlements, most of the threats their soldiers could fend off themselves and for demon sightings the black knights usually would come around. He made sure to look as tall and proud as possible, his long ponytail resembling a plume hovering in the air behind him, dragon slayer spear in right hand. Even though the spear had been imbued with lightning powers due for being used to fight dragons, it was a blessing that it still had them, cause a lot of demon's were know for having a weakness against lightning. So a satisfied grin washed over Ornstein's face when he arrived at the tower and saw the Taurus Demon standing on it.

Ornstein took a run-up, leaping up the tower and landed flawlessly with both feet on the ground, which made a clanking sound, prompting the demon to turn around, grunting, raising its giant axe. Ornstein effortlessly evaded the strike, which hit the ground with an earth shuddering thud. Strong, but slow, there was some kind of primal intelligence in the creature, but nowhere as much as the fierce and smart dragons. The moment the demon needed to raise its weapon from the ground, Ornstein had already struck and thrusted his spear deep into the flesh of the Taurus, which made the creature growl in pain, trashing around with its weapon. Ornstein easily avoided it by leaping into the air, aerial battle was one of his strengths, landing on one of the tower crenels. The creature stopped when it noticed that its attacker had escaped, growling and raising the axe for a massive strike once it had spotted Ornstein. Ornstein however didn't leave the creature any room to attack and drove the spear right into the creature's chest, which screamed in agony and then quickly went limb, falling onto the ground. Ornstein waited around a minute, his hand still clutching the shaft of his spear, but the demon didn't move anymore and Ornstein could feel how its soul power got added to his own. He yanked his spear out of the creature, nose wrinkled when he saw the bloody mess on the blade.

“Well, this has been taken care off. It took me longer to get here then actually killing that thing.”, he said to himself and hopped off the tower, landing smoothly at the tower's base, like a cat on its feet. Some of the stationed infantry soldiers stared at him in awe.

“Sir Ornstein, this was magnificent.”, one of them said. “It took several of us to even hurt it and even then, two died and three were severely injured.”

“....Better don't try to fight them yourself then anymore.”, Ornstein said. “Still, the demons have become bold, wandering that far from Lost Izalith...” He murmured more to himself.

“Sir Ornstein, there is something that we noticed and we think you should now...”, the same infantry soldier said.

“What is it?”, Ornstein asked.

“It is about the black knights. There has been one wandering into the burg and we thought they would take care of the demon threat, but instead they have been hostile to anyone in their way, even killing a few soldiers. But... Black Knights are divines, right? It is not like they could go hollow...”

“What? Are you sure it has been a black knight? And not someone just wearing their armour?”, Ornstein asked. It was impossible for black knights to go hollow, cause there were no humans among them.

The soldier shook his head: “First, I know no human that would be strong enough to kill a black knight and second, they were far too big and far too experienced with that weapon.”

“Where is this black knight now?”, Ornstein almost shouted, laying both hands on the shoulders of the tiny soldier, making him flinch.

“They are gone now. They just seemed to wander through.”, the soldier whimpered.

Ornstein realized what he was doing and let go of the soldier, the man quickly stepping a few paces away. “If you encounter this black knight again.”, Ornstein started. “Tell Anor Londo at once. They clearly have gone rogue. Don't try to fight, just trace their steps and get reinforcements as quickly as possible.”

The soldier nodded: “Will do, captain, sir.”

Back at the cathedral, after having some lunch, Ornstein decided to take a look at the paperwork. Just as he was about to go to his room, a timid voice sounded behind him: “Captain Ornstein?”

He turned around to see a rather small silver knight approaching him, shrinking into themselves, looking like they would be rather be somewhere completely else right now. Ornstein remembered this posture from himself, when he had been a young silver knight himself needing to talk to the current generals. Ornstein decided to approach to them with as much as a calm voice as possible: “Is something the matter?” Normally Ornstein knew the names of his silver knights, but he couldn't recall this one, must have been fairly new.

“M.. my name is Sira.”, they said, judging from the voice and the name probably a female, “I got send here by Sir Terrick, b... because you n.. need some help with h.. handwriting?”

Oh right, he had ordered to get the silver knight with the best handwriting, that apparently was this girl. “Yes, that is correct.”, he said. “I just wanted to take a look at the paperwork. You can come into my... the conference room.”, Ornstein quickly corrected himself, it had been completely normal for Artorias to hand around in his room, but he feared if he would invite this shy girl into his room, she would faint.

“How about you get some ink and quills and meet me there?”, he proposed.

“O.. Of course, captain.”, Sira said and stormed off, probably more than relieved to have this over with. Ornstein finished the distance to his room, opened the door and internally groaned when he saw the mountains of paperwork.

“How could it be this much in a week?”, he murmured. Then he remembered that he pretty much hadn't done the paperwork the two weeks prior cause Artorias hadn't been there. “Artorias always would scold me about procrastinating.”, he murmured to himself and snatched the paperwork, delivering it to the conference room, where Sira already had prepared ink, quills and some candles. She seemed to assume that they would be here sometime and she probably was right. Ornstein put the paperwork down and took a seat, removing his helmet and gauntlets.

“So, I look over the paperwork and tell you what you have to fill out. I would do it myself but nobody seems to be able to read my handwriting.”, he explained. He wasn't even sure if he needed to explain, his poor handwriting skills had been an inside joke among the silver knights for centuries now. Sira just nodded to him, staring at the table.

Ornstein grabbed for the first document and scanned it, then handing it to Sira, telling what she had to write before signing it himself. This procedure continue a few times, until Ornstein noticed something. He looked up and said: “Sira, you can feel free to take off your helmet.” So far the girl had only taken off her gauntlets. She briefly made eye contact with him and then just shook her head. It wasn't like Ornstein couldn't understand it, most of the time he felt incredibly more comfortable wearing his armour too. He just didn't like that apparently he made this young silver knight so uncomfortable, that she didn't even wanted to show her face to him.

“It's your choice. Just be assured that I don't bite, even though I am a lion.”, he said in a jokingly matter. Sira didn't answer to it and the both of them worked together with an increasing feeling of discomfort from Ornstein's side. They only words they changed was the stuff he told Sira to fill out and after a while he could give her a bunch of papers that all were filled out the same and hearing nothing but the scraping of the quills on the document nearly made him crazy. So Ornstein decided to break the silence.

“Artorias would normally bring cookies to this sessions.”, he told. “I didn't even knew he could bake at first, until I saw everyone in the whole cathedral with cookies, even our late Lord Gwyn, and then ran into Artorias who handed them out.”

No reaction from Sira. Ornstein asked himself if he overstepped boundaries. “Oh, but that doesn't mean that I expect you to bring cookies.”, he quickly said. “Just wanted to share an anecdote...”, he trailed off, talking about Artorias made him feel sick, and it was back to only the sounds of the scraping quills.

When evening hit and the room started to get dark, Sira attempted to light the candles, but Ornstein stopped her. “It is enough for now. You can go having dinner. I'll stay and finish what I can do without your help.”

Sira bowed to him and said: “Th... thank you, captain.”, the first word she had said in hours and Ornstein watched her storm out of the room. He sighed and took a look at the unworked papers. He didn't feel like getting dinner himself, his stomach still feeling tight, so he got to work, lighting the candles himself.

It must have been around midnight, when Ornstein realized that he still hadn't worked on a new plan for the silver knights. Cursing under his breath, he put the paperwork aside and got a new scroll to write down their new plan. As he was finished with it, he got up, groaning because his muscles felt cramped from sitting so long, feeling extraordinarily tired. He stared at the paperwork, decided that it would annoy nobody if he just left it like that and made his way out of the conference room to prepare for bed, hoping to get a bit of sleep before he had to get up again. Next chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/183338536279/title-keeping-it-together-chapter-19

[impalaimagining]

Ma Petite

Pairing: Misha Collins x Reader

Word Count: 1,165

Warnings: nervous reader, brief implications of depression/suicidal thoughts (seriously, it’s very minor but it’s there so I want to warn for it)

A/N: Commission for @holyfuckloueh <3 you’re such a kind soul and I apologize profusely for how long this took me. Happy early birthday, love! <3

Masterlist - Commission Information

It’d been a long time in the making. You didn’t know how long you’d saved up your money to make it to the convention, but there you were, standing in line at registration, waiting for your gold package lanyard and wristband. The gold admission package put you there for every event of the weekend, but you were most excited for Saturday. 

Misha’s panel flew by, and from the second he came out on stage, you were completely taken with him. Sitting at the end of the second row, you were basically front and center, and Misha’s eyes kept falling on you.

He’d give you a smile every now and then - no, those beaming grins couldn’t be for you. You raised your hand to ask a question; it’d been up the entirety of the panel, and you swore he was out of time after the question he’d just been asked, but he chanced a look around the stage, trying to spot his handler, but she was nowhere to be found.

“You.” Misha pointed at you as he looked into your eyes from his spot on stage. “What’s your question?”

You gulped as your eyes went wide and your breath caught in your throat. The closest volunteer brought a microphone to you and pushed it into your palm gently. “Hi.” You choked out.

“Hi.” Misha laughed, giving you a warm smile. 

“I’m - sorry, I’m really nervous.” You confessed with a breathy laugh.

“That’s okay.” Misha’s eyes found yours again and he gave you a quick wink.

You cleared your throat after a brief squeal bubbled up from your chest. “My question is-” you were cut off by Misha’s handler standing at the side of the stage with her arms crossed over her chest and her foot tapping.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have taken your question because now I’m being booted off the stage.” Misha looked at you apologetically. “Do you have a photo op with me later?” He rushed out the question and you nodded. “Ask me then!” He stuck his tongue out at his handler teasingly and dropped the microphone dramatically before running backstage like a child running from punishment.

You sat in your seat, looking around for anyone you thought you might recognize. No one. You chalked it up to being new to the fandom, but even still, you thought you’d made some friends.

Your photo op number was 151, so you had to wait until the fourth group was called to see Misha again. They ran through the first three groups relatively quickly, and then it was your turn. Standing in line outside the photo op room, you heard Misha laughing and instantly your heart pounded.

The line seemed to move at lightning speed after that, and you were not ready for what came next. Misha looked after the girl in line in front of you as she was walking away from him, but quickly turned his attention to you.

“Hey!” He beamed. “I am so sorry about your question earlier.” Misha’s eyes found yours and you knew hew as being sincere.

“It - it’s okay.” You stammered, in completed disbelief that he even remembered the situation, let alone the fact that it was you.

“Are we huggin’?” Misha’s grin grew as you nodded. “Sweet.” He pulled you in and held you against him gently. After the flash went off, you turned to look at Misha again, and he was giggling.

“Wh- what?” You blushed, thinking you’d surely done something embarrassing.

“You’re so tiny.” He chuckled, looking at you up and down. Your blush deepened. “Oh, no, I don’t - I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” His eyes became apologetic. “You’re cute!”

Your eyes went wide and you swore your face was on fire. “Th- that’s not helping with the blushing.” You laughed nervously.

Misha laughed, his eyes crinkling and his nose scrunching as he looked into your eyes and nodded. “I’m sorry. Okay, quick before we get interrupted again - what was your question?” You opened your mouth to speak and the woman to Misha’s left shooed you out of the line, stopping you from asking your question once again. “Shit! Little one!” Misha called after you, and you turned around, smiling at the nickname he’d already given you. “I’ll see you at autographs?” You nodded and gave him your best smile, despite your feeling of defeat. 

Three hours after your photo op, your row was being called to get in line for Misha’s autograph. Clutching your photo op carefully against your chest, you stepped slowly toward the table.

“Ma petite!” Misha beamed, opening his arms. He glanced at his handler, who gave him a bit of a side eye as he stood and hugged you quickly. “Ask me your question! Go, go, go!”

You giggled and nodded, sliding your picture onto the table for Misha to sign while he listened to you. “I was just curious, um, since we hear it a lot from Jared, and even Jensen, but I want your advice. Is there anything, um, you would tell someone who feels like they, um, they want to give up?” Your eyes watered and you cleared your throat. “I - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - I don’t want to cry. I’m sorry for asking such a heavy question. You - you don’t have to ans-”

Misha cut you off when he reached up and grabbed your hand. He looked up into your eyes and squeezed your hand in his. “Don’t apologize.” Misha shook his head. “This is the only thing I can tell you, love.” He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes before staring into yours and holding your hand tightly. “You’re worth it. You are worth your fight, and you are worth every single day you’re given.” His thumb ran gently across your knuckles. “Look around.” He nodded toward the room full of people. “They’re your family. I am your family. We’re here for you. You’re not alone in this, okay?”

You used your freehand to hastily wipe at your tears, then nodded. “Thank you.” You choked out. “Thank you so much.”

Misha smiled kindly at you and gave your hand one last squeeze, then scribbled something onto your photo and passed it back to you. “Enjoy the rest of your weekend, little one.” He winked and sent you on your way.

You didn’t look at your photo op again until you returned to your hotel room ten minutes later. You were too busy buzzing from your interaction with Misha, clinging to his every word and knowing you’d always have that memory to hold onto when your days were tough.

After your door had closed and you sank down onto your bed, you finally chanced a look at the autograph Misha had left you. Your eyes filled with tears again as you read them and covered your mouth with your hand, muffling your sobs.

Ma Petite - 

Fight your fight, you are worth it. And remember - “Though she be but little, she is fierce.”

gif: x

Have something to say? Questions? Comments?

Like what you see? Want to make a request? Support my writing!

Forever Tags: @angelofwinchester17 @assassin-inthe-scoutregiment @atc74 @bambi95-blog @be-amaziing @becominglionhearted @beththedemonhunter @blacktithe7 @brooke-supernatural16 @camelotandastronauts @danamarie2123-blog @dustycelt @emoryhemsworth @esoltis280 @essie1876 @evansrogerskitten @fall-out-harto @fanfics-2 @feelmyroarrrr @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @hair-dresses @heyitscam99 @holyfuckloueh @hunterpuff @i-am-enough-always @iammeeio @icequeen6666 @iliketowrite02 @iwantthedean @jadalecki-jackles @just-another-busy-fangirl @keelzy2 @ladylachesis @lenaabs @linki-locks11 @lynnebla @maddieburcham1 @mizzzpink @mogaruke @mottergirl99 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @multifanworld @myplaceofthingsilove @mystrie @nyghtshadow @panicatttckiss @percussiongirl2017 @pjofangirl18 @plaid-lover-bay25 @poukothenerd @ptxforlife0 @queernovak @raelady1184 @riversong-sam @saira-chan @sammysbeanie @sandlee44 @scottish-kid @sea040561 @serpentbaby @shydinosaurcandy @sleepylunarwolf @smoothdogsgirl @speakinvain @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spn-fan-girl-173 @spnwoman @starry-chaos @super100012 @supernaturaltakeover @sweetpeamoose @the-crime-fighting-spider @thegrungequeer @theoriginalpossemagnet @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @tmccarney @vacam79 @wayward-and-worn @wordstothewisereaders @writingthingsisdifficult @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou

Misha Tags: @ellen-reincarnated1976 @melbelle45 @metallihca @newtospnfandom