#and i'm suddenly very mournful that i didn't actually prepare anything

[miodiodavinci]

a heem heem whimper

[skylarstark4826]

Shuri closed her eyes happily under her black sunglasses.

The weather in Haiti was beautiful, just as it was when she first came here - five months ago. That was when she first met her nephew. Her brother's son.

She thought she had nothing left of her family, but then suddenly there was this little boy, Toussaint. His real name, T'Challa, prince and son of King T'Challa, her brother. She had come here after the battle at sea, after she had managed to get Namor to yield, albeit with great difficulty.

After some things had been settled and she had given up the throne to M'Baku because she didn't see herself ready for it and needed time to mourn.

At the time, she had stayed in Haiti for a month, which she only realized when she was asked to go back to Wakanda because she was needed there. Some of Talokan's requests had not yet been fulfilled, as their god had asked for her presence. That was the first time after she had seen him. After the fight in the desert.

He actually looked the same as ever, with the same clothes on, only his upper body was covered by the thick cloak he had already worn around his shoulders in the cave after Namor showed Shuri his world. Everything was the same, except that there were tight bandages around his ankles. His wings seemed to heal slower than the rest of his body.

Namor had seen her look, but hadn't said anything or shown any reaction on his face that might indicate how he was feeling. They had exchanged greetings, but Shuri wanted to go back to Haiti. Back to her nephew. Back to the peace she found there. But the days dragged on and days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months.

Now she was on her way to visit her nephew again. She had finally been able to free herself and found time to return. The goodbye months ago had been quick and abrupt. Toussaint had tears in his eyes and probably would have preferred to go with hers. But he couldn't — not yet.

Shuri got down from the back of the car when they arrived at the house where Nakia and Toussaint were living. She thanked the driver and gave him some money. She shouldered her backpack for a moment and then started walking. She hadn't told Nakia she was coming. But she had first made sure that her sister would be there when she would arrive, so she wouldn't find herself in front of a locked door.

Shuri raised her hand and knocked twice, hard enough that it could probably be heard throughout the house. Only when Nakia was at the beach would she have to...

The door opened and she caught a glimpse of Nakia's stunned face, before being pulled into a bone-crushing hug. If Shuri didn't have the Black Panther's powers, she would probably have to stifle a groan.

"Shuri, why didn't you say you were coming?" Nakia led her inside, her hand wrapped around her wrist, letting the door fall shut behind them. "I would have cleaned up a bit and your room would already be prepared."

Now it didn't seem like such a good idea to just turn up here without sending a message first. The way Nakia acted, her attempt at surprise seemed more like a robbery.

"Sorry," Shuri said, taking Nakia's hands in hers to squeeze them lightly. "I just thought it might be nice if I just stopped by. Toussaint seemed so sad the last time I just had to leave from one day to the next."

"Oh no, no," Nakia said quickly, smiling lovingly at her. "I am very happy that you are here. And I'm sure Toussaint will be very happy when he sees you too."

That brought a smile back to Shuri's face and the shame evaporated. "Is he outside with some friends?"

Nakia shook her head with a grin and led Shuri through the living room to the porch, which had a wonderful view of the sea. She pointed her finger forward and Shuri, using her increased eye power, searched for a boy. It didn't take two seconds and she saw her nephew sitting on the beach. He seemed to have found something and got up and looked at the house. Then he went to show his mother what he had found, but stopped a few meters later. Briefly his brows were furrowed and his eyes narrowed, but when he saw who was standing next to his mother on the porch, his eyes widened and a squeal of joy escaped his lips. 

"Shuri!"

The two women laughed at his happiness and Shuri slipped her backpack off her shoulders to run towards her nephew. Before they could reach each other, Shuri fell to her knees and Toussaint jumped into her outstretched arms. "Umakazi, you are here, I missed you so much!"

Shuri giggled and hugged him. "I missed you too." Then she started tickling him and Toussaint immediately let go of her to get away from her fingers. His white teeth flashed as he looked at her with a laugh.

"I even brought you something, a small present," Shuri said, taking his hand to walk him back to the porch.

"Really?" Toussaint asked, wide-eyed, jumping up and down. "What is it? What is it?"

Shuri could laugh at his behavior and laughed. That's what her brother had been like when they were younger.

She grabbed her backpack, opened it and searched inside for the present she had taken from her lab. It was a necklace. A black ribbon with some claws attached. While they weren't made of Vibranium, it was still something she wanted to give him.

"Is that the necklace of Baba?" Toussaint asked excitedly, reverently taking the necklace in his hands to examine it better.

"No," Shuri said softly, "but the necklace is modeled after your father's."

She watched as her nephew slipped the chain over his head and around his neck. "It's a bit too big for me."

Shuri chuckled softly. "Don't worry, you'll grow into it."

Toussaint looked at her with glittering eyes. "Thanks Shuri." He gave her another big hug as Nakia stepped out of the house and told Shuri that she had her room ready.

In the room, Shuri put her backpack on the small desk that was just to the right of the door. The bed was on the left when she came in. Mosquito nets framed it to keep the pesky critters out. Next to it was a small bedside table with a lamp on it. To the right was a large window with the panes open and the gentle breeze blowing in the sea air. It was as peaceful and beautiful as Shuri remembered.

"Shuri?" She flinched involuntarily and turned to see Nakia standing in the door frame, eyeing her with worry. "Is everything okay?"

Shuri considered the question for a moment before answering. "Yes everything alright."

"And at home? How is it there? Is everyone okay?" Nakia came into the room and stood next to Shuri at the window.

"It's all good there too, apart from the fact that M'Baku is annoying the elders, because he doesn't see things the way they do."

Nakia grinned. "The elders must have nerves of steel."

Shuri chuckled. "Yes, they must."

Again she looked at the sea, whose waves repeatedly hit the shore and broke. "You know Nakia, I never thanked you." From the corner of her eye she could see the questioning look of her Usisi. "For being able to come here and call it home." Shuri turned to Nakia, tears stinging her eyes. "The month I was allowed to spend here helped me to heal."

Nakia hugged her and rubbed her back sympathetically. The moment didn't last long as Toussaint leaped into the room, dressed all in black, with the necklace around his neck that Shuri had given him a few minutes earlier.

"Look! I'm the Black Panther!” He jumped onto the bed. "I will protect you!"

Shuri and Nakia laughed heartily.

Late in the evening, after they had already eaten dinner and Shuri put her nephew to bed and after she had to promise him hundreds of times that she would stay here, he fell soundly asleep.

Now Shuri and Nakia sat in the kitchen, each with a mug in hand, lost in their thoughts. Shuri thought about Toussaint how he had laughed and called for help as she and his mother playfully lunged at him and tickled him, when he said to be the Black Panther.

But her thoughts were abruptly interrupted when she heard heavy footsteps from outside on the porch of the house. Her eyes flicked to Nakia, who was looking intently at her mug. For a moment Shuri thought it was just imagination, but then those footsteps were there again and shortly afterwards there was a dull impact. 

Nakia's head shot up. She had heard it too — no simple imagination. Both stood up as quietly as possible. Nakia grabbed one of the kitchen knives and Shuri let her panther suit materialize around her hands, claws out. The two tiptoed into the living room, which was only lit by the warm glow of a lamp next to the couch. Three large, quiet, steps further and the two warriors were pressed against the wall, just next to the door of the porch.

Suddenly Shuri, with her keen hearing, caught a whimper. Then a suppressed groan. But even if Shuri didn't want to admit it, she recognized the voice behind those sounds. She had heard it before. In the desert when Namor yielded. She had to pull him into the sea with some force to keep him from dying. As a result, his back scraped, and the associated severe burns on the red-hot surface of the ground. He had made the same sounds.

Shuri made her claws disappear, as well as the part of her suit. Nakia looked at her, a silent question in her eyes.

"It's okay," Shuri whispered, stepping through the door onto the porch.

She had prepared herself to see him lying in front of her. Just thought to be was emotionless, because he deserved nothing better after taking everything from her — almost everything. But when she saw him lying there. Vulnerable as a cub, she couldn't help the pity coursing through her body.

"Namor," she said his name and knelt down next to him. As she put her hands on him to turn him onto his back, she flinched. His body was burning hot. Panic swept through her. "Namor?!" She touched him uncomfortably and rolled him onto his back.

"Shuri? What is he doing here?!" Nakia had stepped out of the house, knife still in her hand, and was looking down at her.

"I don't know," Shuri replied, placing her Kimoyo Beads on his chest. Everything seemed fine except that he was burning. She had forgotten to put his DNA into her Beads the last time they saw each other. "Let's bring him in."

"What?!"

Shuri had already taken Namor's arm and used her panther power to bring him into an upright position. Another painful moan escaped him. "He can't stay out here," Shuri said, looking around, but couldn't see anyone.

"But Toussaint might wake up."

"Then let's take him to my room," Shuri suggested. Her room was on the other side of the house, away from Toussaint's room.

After some deliberation, Nakia finally nodded and helped Shuri lift the god to his feet, opening his eyes for a moment. His glassy eyes found Shuri's.

"Princess…"

Shuri swallowed the lump that was trying to form in her throat and brought Namor inside, his head resting on her shoulder. It was like standing next to the sun.

With some effort, they managed to get Namor to bed. Nakia quickly closed the door to avoid waking Toussaint. Shuri turned on the bedside lamp and looked at the man who had ruined her life a few months ago. His face glistened with sweat in the lamplight.

"Namor?" His eyelids twitched at the mention of his name, but he didn't open them. "Namor, I know you can hear me."

It seemed to cost him quite a bit of strength, because it took a while before he finally opened them. His eyes wandered around for a moment, aimless, until they settled on Shuri, who was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"What's going on?" she asked in a calm tone, although inside she wanted to yell at him for finding her here. "Who did this to you?"

"Princess..." He narrowed his eyes and stifled a scream, his hands gripping the sheets in spasms.

Shuri saw him in pain, but since her Kimoyo Beads weren't helping her, she had to try something different. She turned to Nakia. "Could you bring some cool water and a cloth?" It looked to her like he had a fever, but there seemed to be something else, and that was causing him pain.

She turned back to Namor when she heard his cough. His breathing was heavy and uneven. His hair was plastered to his forehead. His eyes were closed again and his face twisted into a painful grimace. 

"Namor, tell me what's going on."

He let out a grunt before turning his head and opening his eyes to look at her. "Wings..." He gasped and reared up. Shuri pushed him back onto the bed and held him there until he calmed down.

Meanwhile Nakia had returned with a bowl and a cloth. With one last look at Namor, she left the room and quietly closed the door behind her.

Shuri got the chair from the small table and put it next to the bed. Then she took the cloth and dipped it in the cool water, wringed it out and dabbed the sweat from Namor's forehead. His breathing had changed. It was fast now, it was almost like Namor was hyperventilating.

Shuri looked at him.

Seven months ago she probably would have just stood there and watched him writhe in pain, but now… now he was her ally. And she couldn't just let him die like that. Especially not if she then had to tell Talokan that it wasn't her, but something else who took him from them. Because if Talokan declared war on them because of this, they would perish.

Her gaze traveled over his body, down to his feet and lingered on his ankles. She saw a gentle curve and the bandages, where his wings would be if she hadn't taken them from him.

"May I have a look at your ankles?" Shuri asked, waiting for an answer that didn't come. She took a deep breath, then got up from the chair and sat at the foot of it. The bed was a bit too small, but Namor just barely fit on it.

With all caution, Shuri grabbed his left leg and placed it on one of the pillows she had put aside. She untied the tight knot and began unwrapping his ankle. But with every little twitch or groan from him, she stopped and looked at him. His face was still contorted in pain and his hands were clenched into fists.

When Shuri finally removed the bandage from his ankle, she wished she hadn't. They were a devilish red. She could clearly see inflammation and some herbs, which she believed had been given to him by his healers. She looked at his right ankle. It was probably the same there when she untied the bandage.

Suddenly, a powerful recoil went through Namor and his entire body went still. Panic swept through Shuri. She let go of his ankle and was immediately at his head, bending over him.

"Griot?!"

"He's not showing any vital signs," came the voice of her AI.

"Shit!" Shuri cursed under her breath.

She tried cardiopulmonary massage, as well as mouth-to-mouth resuscitation — trying not to pay too much attention to how soft Namor's lips were.

But when that didn't work, she ran outside, into the kitchen and grabbing a large bowl. While she filled this with ice-cold water, she took out ice cubes and put them in. Then she ran back, ignoring that she was spilling some water on the floor. She kicked the door shut and when she stood by Namor, she dumped the entire contents of the bowl over his torso.

Shuri jumped when Namor's eyes widened and he gasped.

"Damn Fishman," Shuri cursed, setting the bowl on the floor before walking back to Namor. "Namor?"

He seemed to be more awake now. "Black Panther?" He wiped his face with one hand. "What… Where am I?" He looked around the small room before his eyes landed on her again.

"As if you wouldn't know that?" Shuri asked back, raising an eyebrow at him.

Namor narrowed his eyes and Shuri saw a tremor go through his body. When he opened his eyes again, they were looking straight ahead. "You uncovered my wings?"

Shuri bit her tongue to stifle a comment. "Yeah, after you showed up here, blazing hot as the sun, and you couldn't tell me what the hell was going on, I took the liberty of checking out your wings." She saw his fingers twitch, very briefly. "They're infected." Shuri raised her hand and brought it to Namor's forehead, but didn't touch him. "Besides, you're still glowing, so I'm pretty sure the cold water will only help you briefly."

Namor just nodded at her words. "Sea water isn't as pure as it used to be due to pollution from surface dwellers. That's why the shamans made me a bandage with the herbs to protect the new feathers.” He sighed briefly. "But I cannot always be in my hut when my people need me."

Namor looked at some invisible point. But Shuri continued to look at him. Noticed his body shaking again with a tremor. She saw fresh beads of sweat forming on his temples.

"Why did you come here and not go back to Talokan?" Shuri asked, reaching for the cloth to dip in the cold water and then gently wipe away the beads. Namor flinched at the touch and tensed, but relaxed once he realized the cloth posed no threat.

"I was exploring," he said, but Shuri knew it wasn't true. He wasn't telling her something.

"Exploring?"

He made a clicking noise before grinning halfheartedly and shaking his head. "No, I wasn't," he murmured. "I was looking for you." Shuri frowned in surprise, but didn't say anything as he opened his mouth to continue. But she saw how it cost him some strenght to say the next words. "I wanted to ask you… if you would like to… visit Talokan again. I could show you more things and places..."

Shuri didn't know exactly how to answer that. She would love to go back to Talokan. But she still associated too much pain with it. There, where everything began. At least that's how she saw it.

"Y-You don't have to decide right now..." He lifted his head to look at her. A small, hopeful smile graced his lips. "But know that if you choose to do so, I will welcome you with open arms."

Shuri swallowed, but then nodded. "I'd love to come back to Talokan." Joy glittered in his eyes as she said the words. "But not now. The pain is still too deep."

Namor sadly lowered his eyes, but accepted her wish. He had expected such an answer. But actually hearing her say these words hurt more than imagining it.

"I see," he murmured.

Silence fell between them.

At one point, Shuri noticed that her eyelids were getting heavy. "I think it would be better if we sleep now."

His gaze wandered around the room. "But there is only this one bed."

"Don't worry, I'll sleep in the living room."

Namor's eyes widened as he realized he was in her room. "No, please, I can sleep in the living room, then—"

"Namor," Shuri interrupted gently, "the bed is soaked and I think you'd sleep better on it than me."

Namor looked at the bed and saw the last pieces of ice cubes that hadn't melted yet. "I'm sorry."

Shuri nodded but said nothing. She turned off the light and got up. At the door, however, Shuri turned around again. Namor lay in bed with his eyes closed. The way he was laying there, she couldn't imagine that he was actually one of the most dangerous creatures on earth.

Shuri quietly closed the door and went into the living room to lie down on the couch. Nakia had long since gone to bed after cleaning up after Shuri when she got the ice cold water.

Yawning, Shuri lay down on the couch and covered her body with the thin blanket she had taken from her room. She fell asleep less than five minutes later.

But she was awakened by the shouting of Griot. It was still dark outside when she looked out through the living room windows onto the porch. A look at the digital clock that was on the table showed her that she had only slept a few hours.

"Griot? What's wrong?" Drowsy, she rubbed her eyes and sat up.

"I'm sorry, Black Panther, but I've been monitoring Namor's stats and he seems to be getting worse."

Immediately Shuri was on her feet and ran quietly but quickly to her room. She heard the rustling of cloths in the darkness and the rapid breathing of Namor. Shuri closed the door and took two big strides to the bedside table and switched on the lamp. 

Namor was breathing fast and tossing his head. His hands were clutching the bed sheets. A thin film of sweat had formed over his body. A painful moan escaped his mouth.

Shuri dipped the towel in the water, not bothering to wring it out first before placing it on his chest and wiping away the sweat. Then she dunked it back in the water and repeated it. She did the same to his face, only creasing it there a couple of times, before wiping the sweat from his skin.

Then she had an idea. Why hadn't she thought of that before?

Shuri put the cloth aside and slipped one of her Kimoyo Beads from her wrist. She went to his ankles and gently placed it against the reddened skin. At the touch, Namor's breathing hitched briefly before picking up speed again. Then she squeezed the bead and watched fine blue lines run through Namor's ankle. She quickly took another of her Kimoyo Beads and repeated the same on his right ankle. The reaction was almost immediate. Namor slowly calmed down. His breathing also returned to normal.

"Itzia..."

Shuri lifted her gaze from his ankles and looked at him. She went to the chair and sat down. "Namor?"

His head moved briefly to the right, then left again, towards her. "Itzia..."

"Griot, please translate."

"Itzia, it's Mayan and means 'princess'."

Shuri looked at Namor. Although he had calmed down, he still seemed to be fighting the fever. Then he opened his eyes and looked at her closely. Shuri froze briefly because his gaze was so piercing, but then she saw a haze over his eyes. Like he doesn't really saw her. Like she was not really here.

"Ka woksaj óotik wáaj u Shuri je'el yáakunaj teen?"

Shuri understood that he said her name, but didn't know what the sentence he said meant and waited for Griot's translation.

"Do you think Shuri could love me?"

[journeyofbell]

Something I wish was more normalised: mourning the loss of a friendship just like you would with a romantic relationship.

There isn't any social expectation to clearly break up the friendship when things have gone sour or begin to fade out. I honestly wish there was because it leaves a lot of scars on your soul to just see it disappear and be unable to do anything about it.

I used to be close with a person I practically considered to be a sister. I would've done anything for her and then she decided that I wasn't important to her anymore but without telling me. She just avoided me despite knowing how much being ignored hurt me. I reached out multiple times, she insisted it wasn't me yet somehow she could find time for other friends when she claimed to be too busy for meeting up. She also ignored our common friends when they eagerly wanted to see her despite them doing nothing that could warrant such cold behavior. When I had a major crisis and needed someplace to stay, I called her because she was closest to my home. She never answered and never got back, not even asking why I called because I usually messaged her. It hurt and it still hurts now, years after giving up on her.

Worst is the fact that I'm not owed an explanation. Not like a couple where one suddenly ghosts the other one. As if it hurts any less because it's "just" a friend. But I still want to know why, simply because her behaviour was shitty and I would expect her to be emotionally mature enough to own up to that.

Fact is that I'm stuck with all of these questions and unresolved feelings. I've cut her out of my life completely, removing her from every social media I have because I can't stand to see anything about her life. I was advised to do this by professionals though I'm not happy with that being the "best" solution. I still want those answers and to tell her that was she did wasn't okay. I'm wondering if current friends of hers will find out too, if they even know what kind of person she truly is.

I had this issue with a former best friend as well but her ex friends actually warned me about her habit of using people. I was prepared for the day she'd consider me disposable, at the very least. I can't say the same thing about this other ex friend.

And call me bitter but I don't think she deserves to move on as if nothing happened. I want people around her to know what she's like, just like you would warn other people about an ex partner with equally shitty behaviour. That she's willing to throw you into the trash when you're no longer entertaining enough for her and that she doesn't have the guts to be honest with you but just runs away instead of facing a possible confrontation. People deserve to know what they're signing up for if it's that obvious they'll get hurt.

I'm still angry, sad and bitter about this. I didn't want to see our friendship end like that. I feel like it's a little zombie that's still taunting me to this day. It should be dead but it still isn't, stuck somewhere in between. All I want to do is to snatch it and stab it until it stops moving, until it's dead for good. Actually put it to rest and be able to move on. But how can you properly end a friendship when the other one doesn't care about you anymore and already made a decision that you should've made together?

[boxofbadaddiction]

All I Wanna Do is Make Love to You

Song Inspired

Fred Weasley x Reader

George Weasley x Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Sexual References. Swearing. War. Angst with a happy ending.

War was fast approaching. People were running scared, others disappearing at random. Everyone was on edge and looking for something, anything, to bring comfort. Something to distract themselves, even if only for a moment, from the horror of their reality.

For [Y/N] and Fred, that comfort was found in one another.

The night before the battle saw members of the Order organising, coming together to discuss possible strategies in the fight to come. Following a particularly gut wrenching speech from Lupin about "preparing for the inevitable", which everyone knew from the look of his eyes he meant the unavoidable deaths that will occur, the room fell silent.

Fred and [Y/N] turned their attention to one another as if in slow motion. Frightened and teary-eyed expressions mirrored by the other. It was the first time she had ever seen him so vulnerable. As members began to disperse Fred reached his hand out for her to take. Not a word was spoken as the two ascended the staircase of the home currently being used as Headquarters for the Order, finding refuge in a room Fred had occupied for the past three nights.

Releasing her grip on his hand [Y/N] entered the dimly lit space first as Fred closed the door gently behind him, leaning his weight back against it. He watched her as she turned back to meet his gaze.

[Y/N]s chest began to rise and fall as panicked breaths took over, shoulders shuddering as tears pooled in the corner of her eyes. Appearing as the embodiment of sorrow itself. Freds head fell to the side sadly as a defeated breath escaped his throat. Heart aching at the sight.

In an instant the two were closing the space between them, lips crashing in a frantic kiss. His hands came to the nape of her neck and hers bunched in the fabric of his shirts collar.

Tongues entwining hungrily as their hands began to roam the others body, discarding various articles of clothing in their wake.

Slowly stepping backwards [Y/N] began blindly leading them towards the bed, stopping momentarily to kick away their pants that'd slung around their ankles.

Fred seized the moment to take control, lifting [Y/N] with a firm grip to her ass from the ground. Her legs immediately wrapping around his waist and arms wrapping around his neck. Fred collapsed the pair onto the bed hovering mere millimetres above her as they proceeded to rid the other of their final items of clothing.

Freds mouth traced her entire body as if mapping her every detail with his lips.

Their bodies entwined and writhed together in perfect sync. Soft moans, gasping breaths and declarations of love filled the thick air. They cherished every movement, every taste and sound shared by the other as if they had an eternity to do so. Though it very well felt like nothing more than borrowed time.

That night suddenly seemed like a lifetime ago as [Y/N] stood pale and cold before the gathered Weasley family who mourned the loss of their son, brother and best friend. Whilst she denied the fate of her lover laid before her.

Soft gasps and declarations of her lost love were the only sounds to peirce the thick polluted air as she crumpled in front of his body. Tears pouring from her eyes at the sight.

The moment replayed in her mind every second of her days. His lifeless form plaguing more than just her dreams. It plagued her entire existence. It was too much to bare. Not knowing where to turn next [Y/N] responded in the only way she could think to.

She ran.

There was nothing left for her there. Nothing but heartache and pain and the tormenting memory of what had once been. She left for her home country, with no intention of ever returning.

But fate had other ideas.

11 years later found [Y/N] wandering the streets of Diagon Alley. It was just as it always had been, before the war. Shops bustling with the life of families searching for their various books and essentials for the beginning of a new school year. She were delighted to see so many of the original stores that were destroyed during the second war restored to their former grandeur. As she strolled through the crowed street gazing through the display windows, she was brought back to her old days. Back to all those school years when she'd come to collect her books and supplies. Mind running with itself through the many memories of her youth blissfully unaware of the busy bodies of people around.

Until...

"[Y/N]?!" a tall redheaded man barrelled through the street towards her.

"George?!" She found herself suddenly wrapped tight within his arms, it felt just like it always had. It felt warm and safe. Like being home. [Y/N] hadn't seen him since the war. She hadn't seen anyone. Right now she were struggling to see reason why, well more how, she'd stayed away. God, had she always missed him this badly?

"What are you doing here?" [Y/N] asked, finally breaking the hug though somewhat reluctantly.

"Well, the shop's back up and running so I'm living down the street again. It's my day off though so I'm out scoping for new ideas." He said smiling. "But what about you? I haven't seen you in years now suddenly you're here, what gives [Y/L/N]?" He playfully pushed her shoulder.

"I'm shopping. No better place to after all" the girl winked.

Laughing he kept looking at her like she'd come back from the dead. Though given the way she had disappeared after the Battle I guess to him it was like she had.

"Merlin, there's so many questions on my mind right now. Just...oh God, how have you been? Where Have you been!?" His eyes were searching her face. For what, she didn't know.

"Oh ah...well I mean, I've been okay. I moved back home after...everything." her expression was solem at the memory of the war. His, sympathetic and understanding.

"Ya know" he took a step closer to his old friend "last I checked that 'home' you always talked about was in a different bloody country! So you obviously aren't here just 'shopping'." She was unable to control the blush which spread across her features, brought on by the mischief he had painted over his face, trying to goad the truth from her. She bit her lip trying to hold back a smile. Damn that Weasley charm!

"So, come on, don't keep me hanging here. What have you been up to?"

"Well actually I ah..."

"MUM!"

Both turned in the direction of the call from a young boy, one with incredible [Y/E/C] eyes and firey red hair.

"MUM! did you see they have the new Windbreak on display in Quality Quidditch Supplies!?"

"No, I didn't sweety" she could feel Georges eyes on the both of them but was too scared to face him. Knowing the question that was going to be on his face when she did.

"Can I go to the Magical Menagerie now to pick my Owl?"

"Of course. I'll meet you there shortly, be safe."

The boy hurried off through the busy crowd once more. Disappearing from sight.

[Y/N] turned slowly back to see George staring after her son. Mouth agape, twitching slightly as he tries to find the words to say something. Anything. It can't be? He looked so much like...surely that's not...

"George?" She asked tentatively reaching slowly to touch his arm.

He shook his head trying to break free of his trance.

"So you're ah...you're a mother. Wow that's...how old is he?" He turned his gaze to hers.

Heart beating fast in her chest a tightness formed in her throat.

Offering a weak smile as her eyes start to turn red she replied, "He'll be 11 in a few short months. He just received his Hogwarts letter."

"Wow that's..." the pieces were falling into place behind his eyes as he looks back to where the young boy had ran off. "11?" He turns back to the mother, disbelief and a little anger evident all through his expression.

"George..." she took a step toward him but he moved away from the touch.

"[Y/N], tell me he's not..."

Tears were filling her eyes now as she noticed his had begun to turn just as red. Fighting back tears. He knows the answer, aside from the eyes, he was the spitting image of his father. Of himself. But he still needs to ask.

"He is, George." Tears finally spilling over and rolling down her cheek she watched him, chest aching at the confession.

"11 years and you never thought to tell us? You never thought I'd...that'd we'd...for Merlin's sake, [Y/N]! He's.." over come with emotion George's breathing had become rapid. He's angry and panicking he keeps looking between her and where the boy ran to. He's crying, running his hands frantically through his hair as he desperately tries to make some sense of this situation. 11 years. For 11 years he's had a nephew. For 11 years she hid the truth from his family. For 11 years she hid the last remaining part of Fred from them. From him. How can he begin to process this?

"George, please, I'm so sorry I didn't...I couldn't..." she were clinging to any excuse that rushed through her head. Fighting for a reason good enough to justify the decision not to tell anyone, but she couldn't. She knew she was wrong, and now could see just how badly, it was all over George. In his tears and the whites of his knuckles and the emotion fighting on his breath. She'd never even been able to convince herself after more than a decade of arguing between heart and mind. So how could she possibly convince him now?

"I'm sorry, I panicked! I thought it was the right thing at the time!" Not a lie, but definitely not a good enough defence.

"The war was over, Fred was gone and I found out I was pregnant only a week later. What was I supposed to do!?"

"You were supposed to trust us!" George was nothing but angry now. He was looking at her with such rage in his eyes it terrified her. He began shouting as he approached. [Y/N] was shaking and walking backwards.

"You were supposed to know that we're family! We always had been, even before you had his baby. We would have helped you. Cared for you. Cared for him! I mean for Gods sake [Y/N] he's the only piece of Fred left on this fucking planet and you hid him from us!"

"George please, I'm so sorry just...just please stop yelling." Her hands were out in defence as she gazed over to the group of passers by whom had stopped to view the scene currently unfolding before them. People were watching, silently asking if she needed help. He looked around, realising he needed to calm himself. She grabbed his hand as he looked away, trying to control his breathing. She'd never seen George so upset. He was usually the most understanding and level-headed of the pair. This side of him scared her, and she hated herself for bringing it out from him.

"Hey..." she spoke, barely in a whisper, reaching to stroke the arm of his hand which she were holding.

"What's his name" George interrupted, still not daring to look to her.

She smiled softly.

"His name's Marcos. From-"

"Your uncle." George nodded. "The one who raised you. I remember him." A strain was evident in his voice as he tried to move the conversation forward without losing his temper.

"He has a middle name." [Y/N] blurted out. "He ah...he has a middle name."

He finally looked down at her. His mouth clamped so tight it was a thin line. "Mmhmm. Yeah, alright. What is it?"

"It's George." She smiled at him. "It was Fred's idea. He used to joke about us getting married and growing old. Whenever he spoke about children there was one name that always came back to him. He said he wanted to name one after you..." he was crying again, head bowed while silent sad laughter shook through his shoulders. She moved to stand infront of him. One hand gently stroking the side of his cheek as his hands traced circles on her arms. "He said it'd drive your Mum mad, having two of you around the house, and thought that was exactly the way it should be." He laughed and they embraced each other, Georges head resting against the crook of her neck.

"I'm so sorry George. I should never have kept any of this from you. From your family."

"Our family" he corrected. "You're apart of us too. Just like he is." He finished standing straight once again but never letting go completely.

"I promise I'll tell everyone. I'll do it tomorrow. I should never have kept him from you. Nor you from him. I was stupid to think I was alone in this. I know you're all what's best for him. And I'm going to mend my mistake. I don't expect anyone to greet me with open arms. And I know this will take time to win you all back, but it's the right thing to do."

George was looking with nothing but cherish in his eyes. He was devastated yes, to say the least. But he had to look past that now. He had his best friend back, and what's more, he has a nephew! He is an Uncle! And he had 11 years worth of pranks and mischief to make up for, he wasn't about to waste a second.

"Can I meet him" he asked, trying not to sound as eager as he was feeling.

"Of course."

"The menagerie wasn't it? He was going to?" He said as they began walking.

"Oh, yes but there's not a chance in the world that's where he's gone." She smiled knowingly. George furrowed his brows at the comment. [Y/N] led him on through the crowds in Diagon Alley. Past the Broom store, past Olivanders, past the Magical Menagerie. All the way down to the bright and lively store of number 93, Weasley Wizard Wheezes. George began to laugh.

"You're not serious?"

"It's safe to say he has inherited his Father, and Uncles talent for mischief." She winked opening the door.

The store was crowded, but she knew him better than anyone and knew exactly where he'd be.

"Your store is his favourite you know?"

George smiled trying to see over the crowd of people within the store to catch a glimpse of him.

"His favourite section..." she pointed over her shoulder with a grin. "...fireworks." grasping his hand and pulling George along behind her.

True to form, that's exactly where he was. Startled by his Mothers sudden appearance, and the stern smiling expression on her face the boy hid two boxes, of what no doubt were the biggest and most uncontanable fireworks the Twins had created, behind his back feigning innocence.

"Oh! Mum! I ahhhh...I'm glad you found me, you see I couldn't seem to find the menagerie and I got a bit lost amongst all the people so I ahhh...i just sort of ducked in here to ummm"

"Save it, Marcos." She raised her hand and chuckled. George was beaming, he was just like Fred, although hadn't quiet perfected his lying ability yet. At the moment it was about as strong as his mothers...aka patheticly weak.

[Y/N] crouched down in front of him and Marcos let his hands fall by his sides as he bowed his head in defeat "I'm done for aren't I?"

"Not this time", Marcos head rocketed up to stare awestruck into her eyes. Surely he hadn't heard that properly?

"Marc, I'd like to introduce you to someone...the man I was talking to earlier."

The boy looked up behind his mother and his eye's widened. "You're the owner of the store! I hadn't realised before not with...you know, you not being near that giant bust of yours out front..." George laughed. "But Mum...how ever do you know him!?" He was near shaking with excitement as he stared back at his mother.

"Well sweety, there's-" she was interrupted as a small group of people entered the firework section.

"Perhaps you'd like to do this upstairs [Y/N], away from interruptions that is" George whispered in her ear. "We can use the flat" he said standing back against the wall he'd leaned on when they'd entered.

"Yes that would be best I think. Come on Marc, just follow George alright." Marcos was becoming increasingly worrisome. This whole scene screamed seriousness. Something he didn't care for at all, he much preferred to stay joking and happy. Another trait he'd unknowingly inherited from his Father.

They climbed the winding stairs of the Twins store into the flat where George shut the door behind them.

"Make yourself comfortable" he ushered towards the couch. "Anything to drink?" "No thank you, George" "how bout for you little man?" "Can I have a fire whiskey?" George laughed as [Y/N] looked sternly at her son. "Nevermind. I'm all good." He slouched down into the couch cushions.

Resuming her position from earlier the Mother kneeled before her son, and grasped his hands in hers whilst George stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets behind them. Head hung slightly.

"As I was saying, there's something I've needed to tell you. Something I should never have kept from you in the first place and it's time you knew." She took a deep breath. "George here well...we went to school together. We were very close."

"Well, what happened?" Marcos asked confusedly. "You hardly ever mention your school days." "I know. And you see...you remember the story I told you when you asked about your Father, Marc?" George became suddenly more alert, he hadn't thought about what she had told him during all of this...he sat on a neighbouring armchair, listening intently.

"You told me he died in the War, as a hero. Saving people." George felt his eyes sting with fresh tears but fought to control himself.

"That's right, honey, and it's true. Your Daddy died a very brave, strong, man. He helped save so many people."

"So what's this got to do with me meeting George?" He asked.

"Well...George here was your Daddy's brother. His twin."

"Really!?" Marcos asked excitedly. "I have an uncle?" He smiled at George.

"Well, more than one." George smirked with a raised brow.

"There's more?" Marcos was on the edge of his seat now "how many more?"

"At least 5." "Woah!" "You also have 3 aunts" George added. "Why haven't I met them? Can we go now!?" Marcos stood enthusiastically looking between the two adults. He was truly a fearless young man. That which his Mother adored.

"Uh no, not right now Marc but I'm hoping" she glanced at George, "sometime this week." "Definitely." He smiled. "So you're what my dad looked like? Mum doesn't have any photos, they were all burned in a house fire." "Well, pretty much, minus an ear of course." He said pointing to his wound.

"Wicked!" He smiled "how'd it happen!?" Marcos was cross legged on Georges coffee table sitting eagerly infront of his newly discovered Uncle. "Marc, that's rude, you can't just ask -" "it's okay, [Y/N]. Really. And I'll be happy to tell you. Everything." George was leaning in nearly as excited as his nephew. "Can you tell me all about Dad?" He asked with a cautious expression. "Like I'd leave him out" he scowled jokingly. [Y/N] had tears in her eyes. Seeing them so happy she couldn't believe that after the War she ran. How could one keep George from him?

Distracted by her own thoughts she hadn't realised her son was patiently waiting an answer to a question he'd asked. "Sorry?" "I said, can I stay with Uncle George tonight?" "Oh..." she looked at George who had the same pleading expression on his face as her son. "Only if it's okay with-" "of course it is!" George stood with a clap of his hands. Marcos was beaming once more at his uncle. "Well then I guess it's okay." The boys high fived excitedly and began to celebrate "BUT!" "here it comes" Marcos rolled his eyes and dropped his head. George looked between the pair slightly confused but ultimately he could guess what was coming.

"I want you on your BEST! behaviour. No mischief!" She scolded "I promise" Marcos pleaded. "See he promises" George wrapped an arm around Marc's shoulders as they both smiled. "The both of you!" She added "...oh." Georges mouth formed a thin line as he looked at [Y/N]. There goes 80% of his plans for the night. Although what she doesn't know wont really hurt her he thought with a smile.

After a while more talking, exchanging stories with George from school and hearing him talk about his newest inventions, as well as answering all questions Marcos had, [Y/N] had decided it was time to let the boys have their night together. Saying goodbye at the door she began yet another warning, having knew these boys too well. "And I mean it you two! Absolutely no! Mischief!" George put a hand on his heart and the other rested on Marcos back. "I solemnly swear" he winked.

Laughing she gave the boys a final hug and began desending the stores stairs when her ears were met with the sound of her sons celebratory cheers and the slap of a high five. Smiling she kept walking till met with the emptiness of Diagon Alley where only few people remained as stores were closing. Casting a loving look to the top window of number 93 she smiled. Everything was going to be okay. She stood contemplating for a moment when the unmistakable flash of fireworks issued from the window and her expression deadpanned. Hadn't been gone 5 minutes. She rolled her eyes. "It's harmless fun" she told herself, going to turn and continue on her way home when the sudden sound of glass breaking and sparks flying pulled her attention back to the top floor window which was now shattered as a firework whizzed down the dark street.

"Awesome!" Came her sons voice in celebration. "MARCOS! GEORGE!" She bellowed. Their heads poked immediately out from the window. [Y/N] threw her arms out wide, brows raised, silently asking the question...

The boys responded in sync "sorrrry Muuumm" "Sorrrry [Y/N/N]" rolling her eyes as she walked off, the firework still in view she laughed to herself.

"We're doomed."

Part II>>

[amostimprobabledream]

And He Walks With Flames (Dabi x Reader) -Part Three

The old man is still talking, his voice flattening to a self-important drone, but Dabi isn’t listening.

He tends to pick and choose when he tuned into the miserable old fuck's ramblings, since he knew most of it would amount to nothing in the end. It would soon all be ashes. Since he'd been brought to this sterile shithole, he'd entertained himself with fantasies of exactly how he was going to kill the old man and those crawling little assistants of his - and oh, didn't Dabi have so many options to choose from? The thought makes his fingers twitch with excitement, like they are flexing of their own accord in anticipation of the event.

But that, too, has eventually gotten boring. That was something they didn't often mention about captivity – its fucking tedious whenever you don't have humans in white coats poking at you or running their little tests with their precious machines. If Dabi wasn’t keenly aware of how temporary this all was, and since he knows he’s too powerful for them to really be able to hurt him, he probably would have lost it a long time ago. He never did take too kindly to being…restrained.

So imagine his joy, his fucking glee, when the idiot humans had actually done as he demanded and brought you here to him, like a lamb to the slaughter. Oh, Dabi may be behind a barrier and have those magitech guns pointed at his head, just waiting for an excuse to open fire, but that doesn’t matter. Just as long as he can see you again, he was prepared to tolerate doing so with restrictions in place.

For now.

You stood there, gazing up at him with a dark scowl forming on your pretty little face at the pet name, just as he'd suspected you would. Yet it felt quite natural to him, wrapping around you in a veil of false intimacy he knew would make you squirm.

The very fact he wasn't supposed to have even laid eyes on someone like you made it all the more hilarious to Dabi that he'd been able to demand your presence here before him, all with the threat of sinking back into his unresponsive state if not properly indulged. Even behind this barrier and with all the little enchantments cast on the place, he held plenty of sway. Getting humans to dance to his tune was something he never tired of doing. Their false sense of superiority over him would be their undoing.

"Don't call me that." you snap at him in a bitchy tone, narrowing your eyes a fraction. He wonders if that’s supposed to be intimidating.

"Mm? You don't like that?" Dabi asks in a mock-apologetic tone, his smile nothing less than scornful as he tilts his head. "What should I call you? Angel? Baby? Honey? I'm all ears, princess."

You open your mouth to bite back at him and he wants to laugh - you're clearly not accustomed to being spoken to like that and it only makes him want to do it more. Such a spoiled little thing. Getting you all huffy and flustered, such a sharp contrast to your smart, academic clothing and attempts at maintaining a detached demeanour, is the best entertainment he's had in weeks. You’re so damn cute when you’re annoyed.

"We brought the girl as you asked, demon," interrupts Fuji, and Dabi feels a vein of irritation puncture his pleasure at teasing you. He's had enough of the Director's voice to last him a lifetime, which is unfortunate since the old fuck seems disinclined to shut his mouth any time soon - he does like to hear himself talk. "Now will you co-operate with us?"

"You really are interested in me, aren't you?" Dabi hums, tail swaying laconically behind him. "How flattering. Or...could it be you're hamstrung by your lack of options? Hmm? Seems like I'm the only demon you've got in here. How pitiful."

"That's awfully confident talk, considering you're the one currently being held captive." Director Fuji replies casually, and Dabi snorts softly but with derision. "And here I thought demons could sense one another - either this facility is better fortified than I had thought, or you're overestimating your powers."

"Perhaps." Dabi replies lazily, as if this is of no concern to him.

You bite your lip as you watch this exchange.

You had expected Dabi to fly into a rage at that. Weren't demons supposed to be famously volatile? Either he's unusually composed for his species, or the ancient depictions of demons have a rather more extreme point of view than previously thought. Then again, no doubt Dabi knows that excessively aggressive behaviour on his part will result in some pretty painful magical retaliation and doesn't care to risk it, or he just doesn't think the Director is worthy of his rage. And no doubt the humans who used to fight demons in the history books would certainly see them far more monstrous than the detached viewpoint of a scholar who has likely never even seen one.

Yet even with all these safety measures, you cannot help but feel uneasy with Director Fuji casually divulging this information to Dabi. Knowing that he has potential allies somewhere in the building may well encourage him to act out, maybe even mount an escape attempt. From what Father has said, of all the demon specimens the facility has managed to acquire, Dabi is the anomaly. Is it because he's the strongest of all of them, or merely the most human-like? For all you know, there could be a horde of the terrifying, red-skinned beings depicted in your textbooks chained up in the basement. The thought makes a shiver crawl down your spine.

Dabi’s eyes turn back to yours and you stiffen.

“Why did you want me here?” you say, deciding to cut him off before something else obnoxious spills from his mouth, which seems to be an occupational hazard when it comes to this guy. “What’s the point?”

Dabi shrugs elegantly, tail flicking.

“Why not? You weren’t supposed to be in here at all, were you? Yet in you marched like you had every right. It made me curious. Plus, it’s nice to see a decent pair of tits around here.”

You know he expects you to squawk and flounce out in a huff, so you stays rooted to the spot, still scowling at him. The urge to cover your chest is strong, but you manage to overpower it, aware of how still the room has gone. It’s like only you and Dabi exist, and the thought is both frightening and oddly exhilarating – among all these scientists and supposed brilliant minds, you’re the only one he cares to speak to. He answered Dr. Fuji’s questions, yes, but he barely even looked at him. You’re the one he directly spoke to. That gives you some modicum of power, even if you’re not sure how best to use it just yet. “You don’t frighten me, demon.” You make sure to tell him calmly.

Dabi quirks an eyebrow at that.

“Oh?”

The word is loaded with tension, a little hiss on the syllable that makes you shiver, but you know he can’t do anything to you in his cage. So, you tilt your head back and offer him a bland, beatific smile.

“Sure, you might have some strong demon magic. That’s par the course for demons as humanoid-looking as you. I know quite a bit about demonology, you see. Not like these scientists with their tests and machines, but in other ways. It’s an interesting subject, and one you interrupted me from by making me come here with some pathetic attempts to get under my skin.”

You give a shrug.

“But you’ve overplayed your hand. Now everyone here knows you can speak and understand everything they say. No more treating you with kid gloves, so I guess that means there’s a lot more tests coming your way now. But really, how powerful can you be?”

Your smile widens into a smirk as you go in for the kill. He wanted you to come here? Then that was exactly what he’d get – you weren’t some trembling coward who would stand there like a deer in headlights just because a big bad demon spoke to you. You were your mother’s daughter, after all.

“After all, you’re the one behind bars.”

There’s silence. A silence that blankets the lab like snow, and Dabi’s smile remains in place, but his eyes are cold and piercing as they stare at you. You feel tingles erupting through your body, like you’ve narrowly avoided being bitten by a wolf and are only inches away from its jaw still. One of the assistant researchers is outright staring at you, open-mouthed, like you’ve suddenly sprouted a tail, or your skin has turned blue or something else miraculous and inexplicable.

"Director, we'll be taking our leave now." Father says beside you, making you jump.

To be honest, you had completely forgotten he was there. Evidently, he isn’t comfortable with the way the demon behind bars is looking at you either, even if you think it’s a little late for that. Still, he’s glaring at his boss with an unusually fierce look of disapproval on his face.

"Our part in this is over."

"Hmm? Oh, yes, yes, fine." Director Fuji says, not even glancing at the pair of you, far too excited that he’s gotten the response he wanted from Dabi to care. "You may leave."

Relief washes over you and you risk a grateful glance at Father. Perhaps he feels bad that his forgetfulness caused this in the first place, and it's spurred him to go against the Director's whims for once, but he's right, you hardly need to be here now that Dabi is apparently feeling conversational and you're only too happy to get back out into the afternoon air.

The rush of relief doesn't last long, though, and you mourn its absence because, as you turn to go, a voice calls out to you, lashing around you like a lasso. Despite yourself, perhaps because you don't want it to look like Dabi frightens you - don't want to admit he does - you look back.

Those eyes. Whenever you look at Dabi you can see he's powerful, but you don't spend a lot of time thinking about the various forms power can take, the nuances of it. But when your gaze meets his, you feel like you've been pulled under by a whirlpool. Everything around you, the lab, the director, your father, all of it disappears and only he remains. Only he is what matters. That look burns everything else away, whispering promises to you that you don't want to hear.

So why are you listening?

"I'll be seeing you again soon, sweetheart." Dabi says in a low voice, like it's meant exclusively for you. "Real soon."

Anger unfurls inside you like a flower. Who does this…specimen think he is? He certainly can talk big, but the reality isn't looking so good for him - poked and prodded at by plenty of magically gifted humans and a container built specifically to hold creatures like him. The only reason he got his way today is because the Director couldn't help but indulge his scientific curiosity. But he’s an arrogant bastard to assume he'll be indulged a second time.

That thought in your mind, you sneer and flick your hair back.

"Don't count on it, demon."

Is it your imagination, or did a flicker of something cross his face when he took note of your refusal to call him by name? Maybe you only saw what you wanted to see, but either way it makes you feel a little better, to know something you said bothered him.

You stride out of the lab, knowing he's watching you, that he has no choice but to stand there and watch you disappear from his sight, without knowing if you'll return or not now that the scientists have finally gotten him to speak. He can hardly pretend not to understand them now.

~

Mother was right.

Anybody who is anybody seems to have shown up to the fundraiser tonight.

You smooth down the skirt of your dress, vaguely aware of your palms being a bit on the damp side. It’s not just the amount of people in the room, either - the entire room feels stiflingly humid and you’re glad somebody thought to open the doors to the balcony.

Ribbons of gold are hanging from the ceiling, attached to dozens of balloons. The tables are also draped in gold-coloured tablecloths and everywhere seems to have been polished to within an inch of its life. The dinner won’t start for a while yet and you didn’t eat anything before hand, worried about spilling it or your stomach sticking out unflatteringly. So, you remind yourself to take it easy on the champagne as you snatch up a flute of it from a passing waiter. Still, the drink does taste good as it goes down, bubbles fizzing on your tongue. You press your fingers to your lips with a little smile.

You hear your name being called and glance over to see a figure manoeuvring through the crowd towards you and your smile morphs into a grin.

“Momo!”

She looks ravishing, of course. She always does, in a silver gown that sparkles like a diamond. Her jewellery is simple and understated, but you can tell from a glance that it’s expensive. It’s odd to see her without her trademark ponytail, but it looks great on her. You hate yourself for it, but you can’t help but instantly compare yourself, your clothes, your hair, your style, to hers and wonder how you measure up. You suspect you may be lacking.

You do your best to push those thoughts away – you’re Momo’s friend and you shouldn’t view her looking amazing as some kind of failing on your end. Anyway, it wouldn’t do to get all maudlin right now, not when you have so many people to talk to and things to see.

“You look amazing!” you tell her, giving her a hug. “Is that dress new?”

“Oh…sort of,” Momo shrugs, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, beaming shyly at you. Ah, so she used her magic to make it, then. Usually, Momo buys her clothing like everyone else – she’s certainly rich enough to afford it. But every once in a while, she’ll use her magic to create an outfit and it looks like that’s the case tonight. It’s good to know Momo sees this event as important to, that you and Mother aren’t just making a big deal out of nothing. “You look great too, I’ve always liked that necklace on you.”

You touch it, pleased, but you can’t help give her a playful nudge.

“And of course, I bet your parents are looking forward to the auction, right? They could probably afford to buy every lot here, if they wanted to.”

“Don’t be silly!” Momo replies, but she’s giggling. “Though mother did hear about some sort of rare lamp that might have belonged to a djinn that she was fascinated about. And I’m sure there are other things that would be so useful for our magical studies, I hope there are some representatives of the academy here who can participate in the bidding!”

You hadn’t even thought of that – trust the genius Momo to be thinking about the potential of the academy getting their hands on some magical oddities.

“That’s a good point. I’m sure we’ll run into a professor or two,” you say, risking another sip of your champagne. “They party hard, these intellectual types.”

Momo laughs again, and you do too, the mental image of Professor Nedzu getting drunk a pretty hilarious one. You don’t even know if he can drink, but maybe tonight you’ll find out for sure-

“Look!” Momo suddenly whispers.

You hear gasps near the entrance to the building and turn around, eyes widening when you realise who has just walked in. Your mouth falls open.

“It’s him.”

The rumours were true. You don’t know how Mother pulled it off, but when some of the crowd parts, you spot the unmistakable red-and-white head of Prince Shouto Todoroki.

Thought it’s strange for the youngest child to be the heir to the throne, you can admit that there’s an aura to him, a certain stoic regalness to his features. It’s common knowledge that of King Enji’s children, only Prince Shouto is able to use both fire and ice magic, the perfect combination of elements, and it is this reason that he is considered the ‘true heir’. What Princess Fuyumi and Prince Natsuo’s opinions are on being passed over for their supposedly weak magical ability has never been discussed publicly, and the less said of Queen Rei (or ‘the Mad Queen’, as some circles call her in whispers), the better. You did hear a rumour once about someone else. A firstborn Prince who disappeared under mysterious circumstances, but you’ve never put much thought into it. How can a Prince just go missing? Wouldn’t people be looking for him if that were the case? It just seems too farfetched to be true.

“Should we go talk to him?” you blurt out without thinking, yet the idea of inconveniencing the prince in any way fills you with dread.

“Well…” Momo says, also glancing Prince Shouto’s way, and you know it’s not a trick of the light that her cheeks hold the faintest hint of a blush. “Perhaps later, when he isn’t busy? We wouldn’t want to be rude and interrupt him when he’s speaking with important people…”

Right. You wouldn’t want to be rude.

Still, excitement fizzes through you veins as reality hits you full force. You’d been viewing this evening as having a chat with a bunch of stuffy old academics older than your father, but now you’re beginning to understand why Mother had been so insistent on you dressing up and brushing up on conversational topics. Not that you’re out to catch yourself a husband or anything – you’re way too interested in your academic career and honing your magic for that – but that doesn’t mean you’re not interested in doing other things. Especially with people who look like Prince Shouto.

“Momo!” calls a voice, and you make a face. Ugh.

“Oh, it’s Iida and his family!” Momo says, glancing at you, knowing your distaste for your classmate very well. He’s just so pompous and annoying and he always makes lectures drag on far longer than they need to by asking unnecessary questions. “I’ll just go say hello, okay?”

You nod, knowing that a family as well-connected as Momo Yaoyozoru’s means she’s probably going to have to say hello to a lot of people tonight.

“No problem, I’ll catch up to you later.”

She nods at you, a grateful smile on her face, before she moves over to speak to what looks like Iida’s older brother, Tensei. You quickly slip away before the younger brother can spot you, which is easy enough with this many people here. You mill around the room, taking another sip from your champagne. You feel a bit like an actress playing a role, perhaps ‘girl at the party’. As you walk, you pass by a mirror and glance at it, making sure you haven’t smudged your make-up or something.

You have to admit, the dress you’re wearing looks good on you. You found it in the back of your wardrobe after seemingly throwing everything else you own onto your bed. But the searing shade of blue complements your skin tone well, and the style of the dress flatters your figure without being too revealing. You’ve seen a couple of people glance your way, and it feels nice when it’s in a place as wonderful as this. And it’s only for tonight, so there’s no pressure on you to look like this every evening.

Soon the auction for magical artefacts will start, though you’re not planning on buying anything – your parents might not be struggling to make ends meet, but you have student loans to think about. Plus, there’s no way you could afford any of them, especially not with the lords and ladies here when they want something.

As you move further into the hallway, you notice there seem to be stalls and tables, probably merchants flogging their wares. Curious, you move to inspect them. Strange objects lie on a bed of black velvet, some of it recognisable to you, others you’ve never even heard of. The intellectual in you is dying to know more. “Are you enjoying the party?”

You glance up at a voice.

A man, you’d guess he’s in his mid-thirties or so, is watching you from a stall right at the end of the hallway. It’s a bit bigger than the others and you suddenly realise he’s actually sitting in front of a tent of some sort.

“I am, yes,” you reply, moving a little closer to have a look at what he might be selling – just because you have no intention in participating in the auction doesn’t mean you won’t buy anything. “Are you?”

The man smiles and there’s something about him…it’s hard to explain, but you’re both curious and wary. Like every word you’re saying to him is being weighed and measured for every possible meaning, even ones you didn’t intend. Yet he doesn’t look like a merchant trying to sell his wares to rich patrons. There’s something else going on here, and you want to know more.

“I am,” you say, making your tone light and pleasant as you look over the items on the table in front of you. One of them is a crystal ball, and it seems to be the real deal, not one of those knockoffs you sometimes see. “What is it that you’re selling here?”

“I’m a fortune teller of sorts,” the man replies, still wearing that charming smile. “I tell people what may lie ahead. Though I should say for clarity purposes that it is not an exact science.”

“Oh, Tarot cards?” you say, delighted. “I’ve never had my cards read before. Are you still offering readings?”

It might seem a little bit of a strange thing to indulge in at a party, but until you can reunite with Momo, you’re on your own and the auction doesn’t start for a little while yet. Though you know you were invited here, it’s still a little intimidating to walk around among such giants in their respective fields. Especially in such an outfit as the one you’re wearing – usually you dress nicely but comfortably, since you spend most of your time either studying, attending lectures or occasionally going out with your friends. Nobody needs to wear high heels while they’re listening to the origin of magic, for example.

Anyway, you’ve always wanted to do this, why waste the opportunity?

“Certainly,” the fortune teller says, standing up and gesturing. “Please, come inside. I find atmosphere is rather important to properly do a reading and it’s far too noisy out here for appropriate mystique.”

You laugh slightly at that and follow him inside the tent. It’s much bigger inside than it is on the outside – you presume some sort of illusion spell is at work, or perhaps the tent itself is enchanted. It’s dark in here, candles sitting all around the perimeter of the tent. Normally you’d be wary of that being a fire hazard, but looking closer, the flames have an unnaturally white tint to them instead of the usual cheerful yellow, so you assume they’re enchanted to not burn in case of accidents. Anyway, you know enough magic to conjure water if there is one.

“Let’s do this at the table,” the fortune teller says, sitting down and gesturing to the chair opposite. “Would you care for some herbal tea?”

“Oh, no thank you,” you say, relieved to have a good excuse to refuse, holding up your champagne flute. “I don’t think herbal tea and champagne mix.”

He chuckles, bowing his head in acknowledgement.

“I suppose not.”

You sit down opposite the fortune teller, breathing in the fug of incense, a pleasant, slightly spicy smell lingering in the air. The table is covered with a purple cloth, and you notice there are various posters and tapestries covering the walls of the tent, though the lighting isn’t bright enough to make them out well.

You slide over some coins, uncertain of the amount, but your guess is either accurate or the fortune teller judges it fair, because he accepts them with a small smile and a nod but doesn’t comment any further. Instead, he reaches for a black pouch sitting on the table and begins to shuffle the cards in elegant hands, and you notice he’s wearing a ring, a dark pink gemstone winking at you in the candlelight as his hand moves.

He’s right about atmosphere, there’s an ambience here that would have been lost if you had sat down for the reading outside in the loud, crowded, white and gold decorated hallway. In here, in the dark, a secretive hush falls over you and the fortune teller that makes you wriggle in anticipation in your seat. This is the kind of place that goes beyond magical, like something truly mystical could happen here, even if you’re aware that this is just a bit of fun, nothing more. But you don’t want to offend him by not taking it seriously.

He smiles, and spreads the cards across the table, face down. The pattern on the back is pretty, black and silver and faintly gleaming in the dim. The flames atop the candles around the tent flicker, as if they want to lean in to listen to what’s about to unfold. The fortune teller looks at you and his eyes hold yours.

“Shall we begin?”

[inglourious-imagines]

The Story of Their Lives (Lt. Aldo Raine)

Requested by: @tealaquinn

Summary: The story of Lt. Aldo Raine and Sgt. Y/N Y/L/N.

Prompts: 9 - Don't you touch her. & 12 - No one would hurt you again, or I'd kill them. & 21 - I wanna see how you lose control. & 24 - He's a badass with a good heart. & 39 - Kiss me. & 93 - You make me feel... you make me feel.

Author's Note: This is damn long so I really hope you like it! Also there are some parts in Italian so I'd like you to know, I've never learnt this language so there might be some mistakes. Feel free to send request or let me know if you wanna be tagged in these ♡

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @radiantcade @meteora-fc @kyra3155 @real-fans @not-john-watsons-blog @im-in-love-with-queen

.

.

.

Y/N and Aldo never showed some kind of an affection towards each other. They respected, trusted, appreciated the other one but these traits were common among the Basterds.

It seemed so innocent at first, almost like a teasing and none of the Jewish American soldiers expected to become it something more.

•••

They met at the very beginning of the Basterd's missions. Y/N was a french spy, a very famous one so she obviously got their attention since they'd gotten to France.

The Basterds recruited her in a bar and she immediately became one of them. Y/N fit within the group perfectly, like she was always destined to be a Basterd.

•••

After the third successful mission, they decided to stay the night in a local resistance hotel to relax and prepare for another action. Everyone went to their beds as soon as they could but Donny persuaded Y/N and Aldo to gamble a little before the sleep. 

"C'mon, just one game!" Donny pleaded. It didn't take much and the trio was sitting around a table playing their fifth game.

"I thought you're better at poker, Lieutenant." Y/N laughed as she grabbed another money she won.

"Shut up, Sergeant. I just am a bit lenient with ya, that's all." Aldo fought back, trying to cover the fact he's worse with cards than Hugo trying to actually smile for once. 

"Show me what you got, Lieutenant. I wanna see how you lose control." she winked at him and dealt the cards.

•••

Something changed in Aldo this evening. At first, Y/N was just another soldier sticking up for her country trying to end the war. But now he saw her in a totally different light.

He noticed what colour her eyes have, how she always ties her hair in a braid. 

He noticed how her cheeks blushed when he praises her after a good work.

He noticed how she scrunches her nose when she disagrees with someone. 

All those little things were filling his head. Aldo was so full of it. It was during the other mission when he completely understood his feelings.

•••

One moment and his whole world flipped. 

Aldo was so angry with himself that he missed such an important thing.

Like a gun. 

The German soldier was just kneeling in front of Aldo when he reached in his pocket. It all happened so quickly then.

The German pulled out a gun and with one last defiance he pulled the trigger. But it wasn't Aldo who got hit. 

It was the woman behind him.

Aldo was like deprived of his senses. He threw away the piece of bread he was eating and jumped at the German. If Wicki didn't pulled him back, Aldo would probably beat the guy to death.

And that was Donny's speciality.

"Don't you fuckin' touch her! Or look at her!" Aldo shouted hitting his face with his fist one more time.

Y/N was so taken away by his behaviour, not really sure where the anger got from.

"What the hell, Lieutenant?" she frowned, "it's just a goddamn scratch on my arm. The bullet didn't even hit me properly." 

Aldo froze whereas Donny and Hugo looked at each other with knowing smiles. They finally realised what was going on.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he tried to brush it off, gesturing to the Basterds to continue with the scalping. "It's fuckin' bleedin' a lot!"

"It's fine. Nothing too serious, Lieutenant." Y/N replied.

Aldo just shook his head as he took off his scarf and tied it around the wound. "No one would hurt ya again, or I'd kill 'em."

•••

The Basterds got ordered to rest a bit because there was a big mission on its way. They didn't know what it was but they all welcomed a full night sleep.

But Y/N didn't feel like going to bed. Instead, she took her cigarettes and sat at the balcony of the apartment they got settled in.

It was a chilly night but she didn't mind. She actually liked cold more than heat.

"Aldo seems a bit off lately." Donny's voice broke the silence as he positioned himself next to her.

"What you mean?" she asked offering him a cigarette which he gladly accepted. 

"Remember how he beated up the German officer two weeks ago? I've never seen him like that."

"Oh Donny. He's just a badass with a good heart. I assure you, Aldo's just fine."

Donny shrugged but didn't say anything. This wasn't his secret to tell even though the change in Aldo's behaviour towards her was so damn obvious. 

Donowitz glanced at Y/N smiling a bit. He understood why Aldo fell for the female Basterd. 

•••

Bridget von Hammersmark was laying in front of them with a bullet in her leg while Hugo, Archie and Wicki were dead.

Y/N was standing in the corner of the room, lost in her thoughts, mourning for her lost friends. She knew something like that had to happen but she also believed in Basterds and part of her thought that they'll all come back home one day.

Y/N wasn't able to look at the actress anymore. She quickly left the room not looking at anyone while she lighted her cigarette. It'd been becoming too much to handle for her.

"Are you alright?" Aldo frowned as he walked towards her. "You still in?"

She laughed sarcastically at his question sheaking her head. "Yeah, of course, business. I'm in, Lieutenant."

"I didn't mean in like that and ya know it."

"Yeah, sorry. It's just-"

"I know, Sergeant. This whole event got me thinkin'. I gotta tell you something."

Y/N threw away her cigarette as she looked directly at him. She wasn't sure if it was the light or the sentiment, but Aldo's eyes never seemed so beautiful to her like they did in that moment. 

"The truth is," Raine began as he stepped closer, "you make me feel... you make me feel, Sergeant."

•••

When Y/N stepped into the room in a black plain tight dress, the conversation between the Basterds immediately stopped. They'd never seen her in anything but in uniform or the civilian clothes. Donny dropped the glass of whiskey he was drinking, Hugo's knife fell on the ground with a loud crash, Omar and Wicki stayed there with their mouths wide opened, Archie Hicox smirked and Aldo, Aldo was taken away and wasn't able to get out a word.

"Please, gentlemen! This is how you welcome a beautiful woman? She looks magnificent!" Bridget von Hammersmark exclaimed gesturing towards Y/N.

"It's so uncomfortable," Y/N frowned and tried to adjust the dress a little, "and so impractical." 

"I think it's perfect." Aldo breathed out and Bridget smiled in satisfaction.

Y/N truly looked like a completely new person. And Aldo's feelings mixed once again. She was so special to him, like water is special to desert. His life was dry without an excitment. She was the water that refreshed him after a long time of loneliness.

•••

Bridget, Aldo, Y/N, Donny and Omar stepped into the small local cinema, already so full of Nazi officers.

"It makes me sick." Y/N snorted as she looked around on the German uniforms. "I have two knives and a gun and I'm not afraid to use them right now."

Aldo laughed next to her and gallantly put his hand on her hip pulling her closely to him.

"Just relax, darlin'. We'll do that later." Aldo winked at her, not letting her go for a moment.

Bridget suddenly seemed like she'd seen a ghost. An older man approached their little group and Y/N immediately understood with whom they have the honor.

Bridget and Hans Landa shared a short conversation before they turned to them. Hammersmark formally introduced the Basterds and Y/N flinched a little under the German's look. Aldo noticed right away her change of attitude and stroked her hip gently.

"Sei assolutamente incredibile, signorina! Ho notato che molti ufficiali hanno voltato la testa dopo di te." (You look absolutely stunning, miss! I noticed that many officers turned their head after you.) Hans Landa grinned and Y/N thought it was the most disgusting thing ever.

"Grazie mille signore. Sono sicuro che stai esagerando." (Thank you very much, sir. I'm sure you're exaggerating.) Y/N faked a smile and clenched her hand in fist to remain calm.

All of the Basterds with Bridget jerked their heads towards her. Her fluent Italian took them away as well as Landa.

"Quanto amo la lingua italiana! E dalla bocca di una donna così bella, è una musica per le mie orecchie." (How I love the Italian language! And from the mouth of such a beautiful lady, it's a music for my ears.)

"Mi stai adulando, signor Landa. Non hai un brutto aspetto." (You're flattering me, Mr Landa. You don't look so bad yourself.) Y/N felt like vomitting any next second. 

Aldo had enough of Landa's fake attitude, especially how Y/N looked so stressed and angry. He decided he has to step in or she won't hold herself back. Aldo recalled the one sentence he learnt yesterday, just in case he'd need to interrupt a moment in a formal way. This was the time.

"Baciami, adesso." (Kiss me, right now.) he stated and pulled Y/N even closer than before. She didn't manage to prostest or ask a quick question and their lips touched. She returned the kiss immediately and ran her fingers through his hair.

Until someone coughed.

They pulled apart from each other, Aldo smiling widely like a winner and Y/N blushing harder than ever.

"Ci scusi signore. Il mio ragazzo qui è un tipo appassionato. Devi perdonarlo." (Excuse us, sir. My boyfriend here is the passionate kind. You must forgive him.) Y/N stuttered and but looked directly at Landa.

•••

Operation Kino was over and it was now only her, Aldo and Utivich. They lost everybody along the way. They stood together side by side through everything. They'd become something stronger than family, friends, lovers. They faced death together and nothing could break the bond they'd created over the years. It was time to go home.

Y/N stood on the ship that was taking the Basterds, or what was left of them, home. The wind was dancing on her hair whispering secrets in her ears.

"I never thought I'd make it back home." Aldo Raine appeared next to her with a cigarette between his lips.

"None of us thought so, Lieutenant." she nodded, "but the difference is, we were wrong. Not them."

"Smart as always." Aldo grinned as he turned to her. "You should stop calling me Lieutenant. The war's over."

Y/N giggled at his statement and he could swear he'd never heard something so melodic, something so right. 

"It kinda sticked with you, Lieutenant."

Aldo didn't answer, instead he threw away the cigarette and took some deep breaths. He needed whiskey, or anything else that would give him at least a bit of courage.

Aldo Raine fought in war, he saw his friends die, he was broken by everything he saw and still, asking Y/N a simple question seemed harder than surviving the bloodshed.

"Spill it out, Lieutenant." she laughed as she glanced at him. 

"I hate how ya always do that. But here it goes," Aldo replied, "I've never been good at this so I'll just keep it short."

He stopped for a moment and stared at the woman in front of him. As he stepped closer, his heart was already racing like it'd never before.

"Why don't ya come to the States with me? We can buy some little house in the Smoky Mountains and live there for the rest of our fuckin' lives." Aldo confessed in his Raine kind of way, looking at her with so much hope in his eyes. 

"Is this some kind of your proposal?" Y/N chuckled as she intertwined her fingers with his.

"Maybe."

"I thought you'd never ask! Of course I'll come with you! You're everything I have, Aldo." 

[losersiancebeepbleh]

BFDI Fairytale: Flowerlocks and the Three Finalists

Warning: This is a crackfic, so be prepared for characters acting OOC. I’m not trying to bash anyone, but crackfics just be like this, you know. Also, warning that there’s mentions of death and knives here, though there’s no actual gore. Also, there’s dead memes, so be warned.

Also here’s the Wattpad link to it if you prefer reading it on Wattpad for some reason:

Anyways, here’s the story:

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

Flowerlocks and the Three Finalists

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Flowerlocks, who was taking a stroll through the woods. Now, this story takes place during BFDI, back when Flower was still more of a thot than Pencil and Match.

"Wait, what was that?" Flowerlocks asked angrily, glaring at the narrator.

Nothing. Also, you shouldn't be able to hear me.

"Uh, fine, whatever..." Flower said, continuing on her way.

Anyways, Flowerlocks soon stumbled upon a cottage in the middle of the woods. Being the thot she was, she decided that her next course of action should be breaking and entering. (Don't try this at home, kids!) However, she didn't really need to break anything, since the door was unlocked, so it was more like... just entering. (Seriously, you need to lock all your doors when you leave the house, or else a Flower could end up invading your house! And you wouldn't want that to happen, now do you?)

The first thing that greeted Flowerlocks as soon as she opened the door were three bowls of food lying on a table. Flowerlocks, who had been disappointed that she didn't have to break anything to get in, decided that this was the perfect opportunity to make up for that. So she tried to eat their food.

The first bowl of food had spicy Despacito Doritos in them. Flower recognized them from a commercial where Firey Underwear sponsored them. She decided to try them.

"Ugh!" Flower yelled. "This is too spicy and flavorful! My taste buds can't handle all the memes!"

After her tongue had calmed down from the spiciness, she decided to move on to the next bowl. Inside it were leaves. (Yes, Leafy is a cannibal. How else do you think she stays eternally young?) Flower took a bite, despite the ominous aura radiating from the leaves.

If the Despacito Doritos were too flavorful, then the leaves were too flavorless. They tasted like emptiness, the void, and the destruction of the universe. (No, it's not because Leafy sucked all the life out of them. It's because that's what spinach actually tastes like irl.)

Anyways, after Flower finally stopped feeling empty because of the spinach, she moved on to the next bowl. It had Yoylecake on it. She tried a bite.

"This is delicious!" Flower said, "It's not too flavorful, nor is it too flavorless! It's just right!" And then she ate the whole Yoylecake because this takes place before Ruby taught her how to be not mean. She also turned metal because Yoylecake, but she didn't really care.

Now, the author doesn't like how both the chairs and the beds were too hard/soft in the original fairytale, so she decided to replace the chairs with something else. Instead of finding chairs, Flowerlocks found a closet with three outfits.

"Wait, hold on!" Flower protested. "Objects don't wear clothes! Well, with the exception of my Non Slip Shoes So Ha! (™), of course!"

Uh, well, this is a human AU.

"Oh ok," the now human Flower said, "But wait! Why would I try on their clothes if I'm already wearing clothes?"

Because, um, because you're a thot.

"Hey!" Flowerlocks shouted indignantly.

Just try the clothes on, please.

"Ugh, fine..." Flower said with a slight humph sound.

She tried on the first outfit. It was bright orange and yellow. When she saw herself wearing it in the mirror, she gagged.

"Why is this so bright? This is a fashion faux pas! This orange makes me look like a prison inmate!" She yelled, revolted. She hurriedly ran back into the closet to try on the second outfit.

She came back out wearing all black. She looked at the mirror in distaste.

"Ugh, I look like an emo teenager. This outfit is so dull and dark," Flower complained. "Why is this outfit so edgy? I'm going to change again." She went back into the closet for the third outfit.

This time, she emerged wearing a light blue dress. As she went to look in the mirror, she suddenly gasped and did a quick twirl in it.

"Not too bright, but not too dull," Flower said in satisfaction. "It's just right!"

Still wearing the borrowed outfit, she went upstairs. And as a testament to how much of a thot she was in BFDI, she decided to sleep in one of the homeowners' beds.

When she reached the second story, Flowerlocks saw three bedrooms. She went in the first one. It didn't really have a bed. It just had a fireproof metal box in the center. But Flower doesn't really have that much common sense, so she tried to sleep on it anyway.

"Ow!" Flowerlocks said, "this bed is too hard!"

That's because it's not really a bed...

"Oh shut up, narrator!" Flower yelled rather rudely.

Ok geez, fine! Anyway, Flower went into the next room. The room looked very emo, to which Flower scoffed. However, she just wanted to sleep, so she lay down on the coffin shaped bed in the middle of the room. However, as soon as she did, the mattress seemed to collapse under her, causing her to sink into it.

"Oh no!" Flowerlocks yelled, struggling to get out of the mattress before it threatened to pull her into the depths of the underworld. When she finally broke free, she looked at the bed in horror. "Now I know why it's shaped like a coffin," she muttered, "It's too soft, and not in the good way."

Flowerlocks went over to the third room. To her relief, it actually had a real bed and didn't look emo. She went over to the bed and lay in it.

"Nice," Flower sighed, "Not too hard, not too soft, just right..." And with that, she fell asleep.

Meanwhile, little did she know that the owners of the house had just arrived.

"Oh noio!" Bubble exclaimed, looking at the open front door. "Soimeone broike ointo our hoiuse!" (Translation: Oh no! Someone broke into our house!)

"Well, not really, since we didn't even lock the door," Leafy interjected.

"That doesn't matter, Leafy!" Firey said, annoyed, " Someone's in our house." He cautiously stepped inside, with the two other finalists following behind him. Suddenly, he gasped in horror.

"Somebody ate one of my Despacito Doritos!" Firey cried out in anguish. He ran towards his bowl of Doritos, holding it close to his chest. "How could someone do this to my baby!"

Suddenly, there was another gasp. A dark aura started coming from Leafy as she held her bowl of leaves. "Someone's been eating my leaves too."

"Woit, hoild oin! Whoiy are you oiting yoir oiwn koind?" Bubble asked, suddenly. (Translation: Wait, hold on! Why are you eating your own kind?)

Before Leafy could answer, Firey said, "Because she's weird."

"Oh no, Senpai thinks I'm weird," Leafy, who just so happened to be a yandere for Firey, muttered sadly.

Suddenly there was another gasp. "Oh noio! Soimeoine's boin oiting my Yoylecake and they oit it all up!" Bubble said, very sadly. (Translation: Oh no! Someone's been eating my Yoylecake and they ate it all up!)

After the three of them finished mourning their food, they went over to the closet. Also, the author was tired of having to write Bubble's accent, so she used her storytelling powers to make Bubble have a normal accent.

"Someone's been wearing my outfit!" Firey gasped.

One again, a dark aura surrounded Leafy as she said, "Someone's been wearing my outfit too."

"Leafy, why are you so emo? I thought this story took place during BFDI, not BFDIA/IDFB!" Firey asked curiously.

"Because I'm the author's knifu waifu," Leafy replies.

Suddenly, there was a wail and the two turned around to see Bubble. "Someone's been wearing my outfit and they're still wearing it!" Bubble cried.

Firey sighed. "Look, we've all had a rough day. Let's just go to bed." With that, the trio headed upstairs, where, unbeknownst to them, Flowerlocks was still sleeping.

"Wait," Firey said, feeling very annoyed. "Someone's been sleeping in my bed!"

"Um, Firey...?" Bubble asked, looking over at his "bed". "Are you sure that's a bed?"

Firey sighed. "It's the only fireproof bed I can find. Beggars can't be choosers, after all. Besides, I've gotten used to it..."

"Firey! Bubble! Come here!" Leafy suddenly yelled from the next room. The two of them arrived just in time to see Leafy clenching one of her knives.

"Someone's been sleeping in my bed," Leafy growled, as a shadow covered her eyes.

Terrified, Bubble made a little squeak and ran out of the room, leaving Firey to deal with Leafy. He nervously put his hands up defensively and said, "Leafy, please, put that knife down."

Leafy paused, looking from the knife in her hands, then to Firey, and then back to the knife. Finally, she put the knife back in her knife rack. "Okay," she said solemnly.

"Leafy! Firey!" Bubble's voice called out. Firey and Leafy both ran to Bubble's room.

"Someone's been sleeping in my bed and they're still in it!"

As Bubble cried, both Firey and Leafy set their gazed upon Flowerlocks, the intruder. Firey was planning on burning her and Leafy was planning on stabbing her. Just then, Flowerlocks started to wake up.

"Wha- Huh?" As Flowerlocks lazily blinked her eyes open, she took in the site of Bubble crying, along with the sight of Firey and Leafy glaring at her, their eyes twitching. "Oh crap," was all she could say before she bounced up and jumped out the window. She was still metal from the Yoylecake, so she didn't die. And she started running far far away from the cottage, having learned her lesson about being an unwanted guest.

She also still had Bubble's dress but don't worry, Leafy bought Bubble a new dress with all the money she made as an assassin- I mean what?

And they all lived happily ever after.

The End.

[hugee0715]

2018

January

2 weeks into the year I cut my hair, probably like 80% of it. Which I quickly regretted. It just seems like every year starts with me doing something to myself, except this one. This January there'll be no surprise, promise.

I also had to decide what schools and courses I wanted to apply to until the 15th. So being the person that I am, at 23:20 on the 14th I submitted all the forms. Earth science, civil engineering or software engineering? I had another 6 month to find out which path my life would take.

February

This photo was taken at around 6 in the morning when I was on my way to a nearby city to take a language certification exam. I was so nervous because I was going into the C1 level right away, basically blindly with no exam experience whatsoever. I remember arriving and meeting 3 other girls who were there for the exam too. We started chatting and they all said that they took the B1 level previously because their teacher advised them. One has already failed, this was her second time. One was there with a whole book of exercises. They all looked so prepared and for a moment I panicked. If I were to fail that day, I'd have had 40 less points for my university application. And a lost bet with my girlfriend. But I didn't fail neither of those.

I also got my girl into MBTI that month, which quickly became the new astrology of our relationship. ENFP-INTP pairing. Cute, huh?

March

This was the month where I kind of chilled down for a moment. It was totally unjustifiable but I still did, thinking I've got plenty of time still till exams would start. I was going to school, doing some small preparations but nothing major.

April

Now this was the month where I regretted all the laziness back in March. My days were counted and I know that makes it sound like I was about to be executed but that's exactly how I felt.

On top of that, in the middle of the month my mum got hospitalized suddenly. It was supposed to be just a check but they didn't let her leave after it. My days were spent with visiting her instead of going to school. She scared us shitless but slowly she started getting better with each day and by the second week she was already coming home.

May

Oh May. I had graduation right at the beginning of the month and 2 days later my week of exams started. A peaceful image of my table right before maths exam. 20 minutes later it wasn't as peaceful anymore.

School ended for good and we had a monthish time before the second part of it all, which are the oral exams.

June

So many papers, hundreds of pages littered everywhere. Stress, overthinking, contemplating why I even applied for software engineering when I was so sure I'd fail the comsci exam, procrastinating, some self pity and over all panic.

One of the exceptions was this day, my mum's work did a little event. They work with old people, helping handicapped elders. A school building full of people who long left the classrooms, doing all kinds of crafts, little games and even some shooting outside. We sat around painting on glass, doing things we probably haven't done together in like a decade.

29 out of 50 so be careful, sharp shooter right here.

July

The 25th came around and at 20:00 sharp the point limits went live. The website instantly crashed by the tens of thousands of people and my blood was loudly rushing inside my head. Once it finally let me in I was scanning through the names of the different universities, then different faculties and lastly the different courses. Earth science. 290. Less than the previous years. A lot less actually. I got into the place I wanted to so badly. I got in by a ridiculous amount of points.

August

An accidental snapshot of my feet while I am having a mediocre melt down in the middle of a bridge over the Danube. The morning started horrendously, I left my student ID at home but I only realized it on the train. Which meant I couldn't buy discounted tickets but I didn't have enough money for the full price ones. So I called mum who called a friend who has a car that they have to come to the city with my ID within 20 minutes because if I miss the train I'll be late and won't be able to enroll to uni. That got solved last minute when they arrived 4 minutes before the train left, which then arrived to Budapest an hour late, the tram was out of service so I took one of the replacement busses but they only went till the Pest end of Petőfi bridge. Which meant I had to walk over when I was already running late so we could very well say that I was done at this point with life and everything.

September

With this picture we can confirm that I wasn't late for enrollment. This is the place most of my days are spent at. The days leading up to me having to move were filled with a weird type of anxiety. It wasn't the kind I was familiar with, it wasn't as scary. As consuming, as toxic. It was kind of exciting, like the feeling you get before getting on a roller coaster. My girl made it feel like that, the security of having her. If there's one good thing about LDR then it's the fact that I can literally have her anywhere with me and it feels like not much has changed. The calmness that this gave me was beyond understandable. I still had her, so there was no need to panic.

Of course it was still a little challenging, the whole change in our schedules and although it sometimes got a little frustrating, she was understanding and I need to thank her for being my safe spot, for making me so brave when I used to be so scared. Without her I would have never been able to do this and she knows that.

October

This is my view everyday when I go to work and back home. A city of so much magic and beauty and also a city that I can't wait to share with my love.

We had our first anniversary. A whole year of being together. I got off of work just in time before it turned midnight in the Philippines. I had a bag of cookies I made the previous day to show, cute, heart shaped ones. Maybe it wasn't the most ideal way or how I imagined it but the meaning behind it is still the same. A year of loving eachother, slowly changing, slowly realizing who we truly are as a team.

November

I made that! My job's description would most likely be miscellaneous. I stand at the counter, make coffee, help customers, sometimes clean or go to the post office, I'm responsible for the paper bags and cups, but on the weekends, I bake. I spend all my Sundays there quietly doing my job. Cookies, pies and as it was getting closer to Christmas gingerbread as well. I had the most tiring days, one time I spent 12 hours there building 6 of these trees and around another 400 of normal figures. My hands got inflamed by the end of the night because of all the icing I had to squeeze out. But nonetheless this is a good first job. I get to learn around really nice and helpful people. Not even mentioning all the free food I get.

December

A happy girl living a more challenging life than ever but still enjoying it like it's nothing.

Decembers are nice. I think back to all the things that happened this year and how different they were compared to last year. I was whining for 66.66666% of the 2017 post. And for the 2018 one all I can think about are the good good things that happened. None of the bad matters. I had one of the worst and one of the best years of my life after one another. No doubt about that.

So yeah,

2018 was a year that will truly be missed. I loved it. But no need to mourn anything because 2019 will give me even more things to write about at the beggining of 2020. Not to even mention 2021. This is far from the end.