#and thus I am forcing it upon my peers a second time

[pigeonstab]

posting this seperately

[shimmerbeasts]

Despite her young age, the sorceress feared very few things. Her mother, a member of a Coven, had exposed her to various magical beings during visits for specific celebrations. So encountering a fox-lady didn't elicit much surprise. "Can I help you with anything, Miss…?" The ten-year-old girl had long, raven-black hair, ice-blue eyes, and healthy rose-colored cheeks. Slightly taller than her peers, she was likely beginning an early growth spurt. In her hand, she held a black rose crafted from black spinel, which she idly fiddled with between her fingers. "Mom is not home, and I am not allowed to let anybody in. If you are here for a potion or a ritual, you can tell me." Disclosing her mother's absence wasn't an issue, as Serena had created a barrier preventing anyone from entering without an invitation. Even demons required permission or trick them into get an invitation. From the doorway, Ahri glimpsed two more children, both boys. Younger than the girl by the door, one not by much, and the other a mere toddler. Seemed like she was standing on the door as a way to prevent the stranger to seeing much of the inside of the house - possible to not let strangers getting in contact with her brothers. @blackrosesmatron cont. from here.

Different locations required different hunting strategies. Even though Ahri's preferred target largely remained the same, every child was different and the fox Vastaya knew better than to assume she could repeat her strategies indefinitely. Thus Ahri had gotten used to observing the children, she interacted with, taking in as much information as possible, and adjusting her behaviour accordingly.

Even before the oldest of the girls - Ahri guessed she could not be much older than ten - started to speak, the Vastaya could sense the magical barrier, surrounding the house. The vixen had recognised that attempting to break through the barrier by force would be a waste of time and an unwise move as it would merely lay bare her malicious nature. No, if she wanted to get into the house, she had to do so by being invited in through the children.

As Ahri laid eyes on the little boys behind the girl - brothers no doubt -, the fox Vastaya realised she had potentially found her target. The younger ones would make a welcome little snack. Something sweet and easy. The type of light, easy meal, you used after you had already feasted properly and now wanted to get the strong flavour of beef out of your mouth. As for whom of the children would be the heavier, but more filling meal - that undeniably was the girl. The way, she seemed laced with maturity and youth, would no doubt create a fascinating juxtaposition.

"Irah", Ahri introduced herself and gave a benign smile for she had caught the girl staring at the hint of her tail underneath her traveller's cloak. The fox Vastaya gave a polite nod, hand placed upon her heart. "And it seems nothing can escape your watchful eyes, young one." Ahri dandily lifted up the hem of her cloak and allowed her voluminous, snow-white tail to idly sway from side to side. "You are correct. I am partly animal."

Dropping the cloak again, Ahri snickered idly. Her expression then turned sad. "I suppose you could say I have come here in need of aid", Ahri claimed, "You see, I am being plagued by a terrible aching tooth at the back of my mouth. It doesn't let me sleep or eat. Rumours said that your mother's a wise and competent woman. I was hoping she could make me something, which may soothe that painful ache."

Ahri clasped her hands together and gave a soft, sad sigh as she looked at the floor. "But it seems your mother is not even home right now, which is such a shame", Ahri said, "Though you look like a competent, little fellow. Your mother must trust you a lot if she puts you in charge. You look like a big girl. Do you think you could help me?" As Ahri looked at the girl again, for a few seconds her azure eyes flashed a dark glowing magenta.

[shimmerbeasts]

Mel Merdarda was a business partner to him now. That meant that Silco had to give her the time of the day once every while. He felt it was only right that she learned of what progress the Undercity made with her assistance and that her generous donations were actually being used. For Silco, it was a control of trust. While their work proved itself to be very beneficial for them both, there could always be the nagging fear that one party was not honouring the deal. Silco would certainly have that fear. Thus by visiting Mel, he was not only limiting her own fears and second thoughts, but he was also reforging the bond of trust.

Just like he had broken the ice between them upon first meeting with a meal, Mel Merdarda was now being his hostess. She had even prepared a dinner, which was more akin to his own palette. It would take them a while until they found a meal, which suited both their culinary interests. After all, nothing withstanding, they did come from different places. Still, Silco greatly appreciated Mel's effort, which he let her know during the dinner. Maybe, it had been this mutual appreciation and admiration for one another, which had led to their night of passion.

"You are more than welcome to", Silco said and lowered his cigar a touch. Peering over at Mel from the armchair, he remarked: "I am sure Babette will appreciate the extra coin, though, I would be hard-pressed if she didn't accidentally brag. For someone who claims they have such a strong moral compass, she sure does follow the money a lot."

The only comment, Silco made on the nature of soft beds and sleeping on the floor, was: "I learned to sleep in different and less-than-ideal locations out of necessity."

He didn't feel like going into details about it. His childhood had been hard, way before the mines. Being ostracised from your own community meant that Silco didn't have a proper home to return to, much less a bed. However, he understood the dislike of Piltover's overtly soft beds. For him, it was just another passive reminder of how Topside had everything and the Undercity had nothing. That invoked his ire based on the principle alone.

Even now that his status as the leader of the Lanes afforded him and Jinx a bed, he had purposefully chosen one, which was not nearly as large as anything, Mel Merdarda slept in. Furthermore, Jinx herself was growing accustomed to sleeping in her hammock. At first, she had needed to sleep beside him in his bed, snuggled close like a kit needing the warmth of its mother. However, now, she was starting to fall in love with the loose, freeing sway of her hammock and the knowledge that even now, Silco was never far away.

His gaze was hard to read, however, the way his heterochromatic eyes bore into Mel's dark brown showed that he was listening with his whole being. All that existed, were her words and the memory, she was painting with them. It was a brutal, harsh and unforgiving one, so similar to Zaun and yet so very different at the same time. In Zaun, children didn't become violent because their parents forced them into gladiator battles or brutal schools. They became violent because they mimicked the violence of the adults. Just as predator young learned in game how to prepare for the real deal, so did Zaunite children emulate gang wars, trespassing and everything in between.

"You have my condolences", Silco spoke softly once Mel was finished, "Noxus' violence is man-made. It abides by the rules of men and their wars. Because of this, they need soldiers. Not predator, not prey. Soldiers. People, who follow an order without a shred of hesitation or doubt. You cannot conquer something, if you do not have an army. In Zaun, a gang war only results in an attempt to take more land if the aggressor has squandered their own resources. Or they have more mouths to feed than prior. It could also be that the reigning Chem-Baron was so inefficient at his duty that he got replaced. There is a reason, we have no last names or houses in Zaun. The apex predators can easily change at the drop of a dime.

"I know what it is like to be ostracised by your own community." Silco tapped his cigar against his knee, briefly making some ash rain down on the floor. "It never goes well when you contort yourself into an unnatural shape to please your betters. Especially when you are someone who is just as strong as them if not more. Your mother was not interested in making you a leader. She wanted a soldier. What she failed to realise, was that she was training someone who was more naturally suited for leadership and negotiation. You are probably one of the only Noxians to make the jump to Piltover without a massive hiccup. If your mother cannot respect and foster the predator and monster within you, then she does not deserve you as her daughter."

@ferinehuntress

It had been a delightful evening, in all aspects. She was relatively surprised that Silco came to Piltover, she knew he did not care for the city and she could not fault him for such things (as an outsider, she had seen just how cruel Piltover had been from her lessons under the councilor she use to live with). But because of that, just as he had been a host to her in the undercity, she did the same for him at her mansion. She found the best fish for her chef to craft a meal, and a bottle of red wine, barely semi-sweet so it wasn't too dry, but not too sweet either so that he could handle the contents of the liquor. It pleased her to know that, despite the struggles of the sickly months combined with the polluted water, the provided meals and water had ensured the survival of the undercity til the pollution was cleaned up and the base problem resolved.

Just as the evening concluded and she escorted Silco to the front door, she decided to open a door. There was no need to speak of it, instead, it became a non-verbal response. A shift of her hazel green eyes glanced up toward the taller man, and her hand had brushed up against his fingers. If he decided to ignore it there would be no offense, but something within her had felt this pull, to allow herself to become even more vulnerable with the chem baron who ruled the lanes. He was her equal, and for the first time, she desired to allow herself to become vulnerable within a room. And just like that, he accepted and instead of leaving through the front door, the passion led to her room instead.

Leaning back against the headboard, she made herself comfortable and gave a little smirk. How true the words were. Many of them did not engage with her well, and most often kept their distance. Her panthers, if not for her prowess, often caused people to avoid her rather than face her. Very few could sedate her desires, though she was not a promiscuous woman. Yes, she had a sexual energy she used, a means to twist people around her finger to do what she needed to better Piltover, but she didn't just sleep around with everyone she saw. "Perhaps, if the need arises I might visit one of the brothels," with an invitation into the city. She kept her word when she said she would not enter Zaun without an invitation. Even something as casual as a brothel visit.

"In my earlier days when I first arrived, I often preferred to sleep on the floor rather than the bed. They were far too soft," Noxus had cots or beds of hay and felted blankets. Comfort was not required it was viewed as a necessity to learn to sleep in any place possible without need for comfort. It took a few years to get accustomed to it, but she never allowed it to change her ability to sleep anywhere needed. Adapted, but not changed. The tone of concern caused her head to flick in his direction and heard his words.

The tender information of having a daughter brought to light more about the man before her. His desire to ensure this pollution was fixed perhaps was not just professional in the need to protect his city but also personal for his daughter. That single bit of information brought admiration to her. A parent should always protect their child, she should know. She was abandoned, neglected, and outcasted by the very person who should have protected her. She was not looking for a handout from her mother, but only that she experienced the love of a parent to their child: she only experienced contempt and disgust from the authoritative figure in her life. Her eyes cast down, her mask had dropped, one she had learned to quickly adapt otherwise the Piltovan society would have eaten her alive. She had no reason to wear it here, and he provided an avenue of communication. The man knew her far better than anyone in Piltover did, the vulnerability of opening up to be honest was something she rarely did with anyone.

Save for now.

"Haunting memories," She said, as she turned her eyes back to Silco, after taking some time to process how to speak. The last thing she desired was to look weak in front of anyone. "As you are well aware, I am from Noxus, but… I did not fit into Noxus; it is a brutal lifestyle of survival. Despite every attempt to prove myself, it was never enough for my Noxian mother," the irony of the fact was that she excelled! She survived, each time proving herself but not in the Noxian way. Even her growls were an insult to her mother, the echoing voice in her head. 'Do not growl at me girl, you are a human, act as one,' Assimilate or die.

She did neither.

"The brutality of Noxus is senseless and meaningless, and I drowned in the blood of those my mother has killed in front of me, forced to sit in the blood and staining my hands," The death had long since not bothered her; what bothered her was the pointless slaughter because people were force to conform to Noxian decree then to be who they are. "So my mother continues to haunt my dreams; except they are memories that I cannot escape. Demanding I become Noxian or drown in the blood she soaked me in," Mel had never spoken such words, as she lifted her hand. Finely tipped gold nails, like the painted gold claws of a panther; but her palms, despite their refined care, had callous upon her fingertips and over her palms. Paw pads of war - one she slowly curled her fingers around. "Violence does not bother me, it's been my life since I remembered how to walk. It's being forced to become something I am not that haunts me," Her words echoed as she looked over to Silco to see his reaction to her nightmare. It's more than she had ever spoken, more than anyone knows.

She had placed herself in a vulnerable position, giving tools that could easily destroy her into the hands of the leopard seal. Mel knew this fact, yet she took a calculated risk to expose her belly to him.

[teakose]

Could you do headcanons of Draven slowly realising that something is off about his mind and that some sort of demon must be manipulating him but instead of eating his emotions or making him kill random people she drives him to read tons of books specifically warmason top secret stuff and make notes, when the demon takes her time out him he feels like he is losing his mind, as if he develops shizophrenia till she returns and stabilises his mind.

is this really late? yes, and I deeply apologize for the wait. I also apologize for not writing much about the second half of the request as I'm uncomfortable writing for mental disorders I have no experience dealing with

it is currently 1 am and i'm studying for a test i have in about 8 hours

i just finished watching my teacher for said class sing a rendition of baby shark that has me questioning my life choices for a study guide

anyway how have you guys been?

Draven and "Demon"!Reader

wc – 370 (good lord these are short)

reader – fem

cw – MENTIONS OF BLOOD, dependency on Draven's side, VERY ooc!Draven

[masterlist]

Draven can feel the disturbance ripple somewhere within the waters of his mind

As per usual, he ignores it in favor of twirling his blade whilst he slouches upon his throne

It starts off small

From listening in to the soldiers set to be executed

To finally cracking open the strategy book that had long been forgotten on his bookshelf

He finds himself…taking notes?

Something he used to actively avoid

Though, he truly knows something is off when he consults Darius about the archives hidden beneath layers and layers of top-notch Noxian security

His brother stares at him incredulously, blinking in confusion

Anger bubbles beneath his skin when he’s rejected, though he’s unsure why

It isn’t until Swain grants him permission does that odd second presence relent

Even then, he can always feel it as he combs through the archives, peering over his shoulder, whispering the names of chapters he finds himself turning to

When you reveal yourself, Draven feels as though a weight is yanked off his shoulders

You leave him with a kiss on the cheek and a blinding smile before disappearing into the mist that’s plagued his dreams

He tries to return to normal

Going to party after party

Busying himself with watching every execution that takes place

But its never enough

Paranoia swirls deeply in the depths of his very being

For the first time in a long time, he feels scared

Not something he, Draven the Glorious Executioner, should be feeling

But there’s a growing void in the back of his mind that begs to differ

Each night after each party, execution, or whatever social event he forces to entertain himself with, that void grows larger

Darius keeps a keen eye on his brother, knowing something is off long before his facade starts to crumble

When you finally return to Noxus for more information, you’re shocked to see the once seemingly untouchable Draven so shaken

His once meticulously styled hair is unkempt, and his room is littered with books and scrolls containing top-secret codes and passages

He turns to you, bloodshot eyes wide with awe and uncertainty

“It…It’s you.”

You stand stock still as his arms wrap around you, thus sealing your fate to Noxus

[hpalways]

Radiating || Albedo

SNOW was very pretty, light to the touch and made of a color so pure that it was almost unbelievable. However, it was a double edge sword, for its beauty came with a price. It was dangerous. As an aspect of nature, a touch of it could freeze a human to death if there was no heat source available, or the slip of ice beneath the fluffy matter could cause a steep fall. This came from experience and a trusted source: you. Because you were currently struggling with the exact problem.

"Shit!" you exclaimed, losing your balance from the black ice beneath your soles. Skidding through the surfaces, you clumsily held your hands out in case you were to bump into anything. Bumping into something, you did... but it was in the least expected way.

Your toe stubbed by a rock on the ground, the external force of it sent you flying into the cool, biting air. Letting out a silent scream, you tumbled through the hills. Continuously getting hit by your surroundings, your body burst with pain. It only ended when you reached a cliff, where you tried to latch onto something to prevent your fall. Despite your panicked attempts, you were tipped over and fell for a good few seconds. 

The impact was great, knocking the oxygen out of you. Gasping and coughing from it, you laid there in the snow for a while, exhausted. You wished you could just flutter your eyes shut and sleep the stress away, but the cold was beginning to make its way back to you after all that excitement. Fingers growing numb and a cold sweat breaking out on your forehead, it was about time you find a warm source.

Pushing yourself up, you groaned to yourself and brushed yourself off. It was painful at first, but it didn't take too long for it to fade. That was the advantage for having so much strength. Strength didn't mean you were invisible to the cold though, thus why you needed to hurry up and get out of here. 

Before you could start running with your impressive speed, a monster appeared from the shadows. Lumbering towards you, it was a frostarm lawachurl. It didn't look too happy to see you, considering you must've woken them up with your ruckus. The blue, huge creature let out a snarl, ready to kill. 

Compared to you, it was slow as a slug, so you could easily outrun it. Preparing the kickstart, you were about to run a mile when a voice stilled you. "[Y/N]? Where are you?" It was a calm, low voice, soothing and steady to the ears. Coming from the cliff you were on earlier, footsteps were approaching the edge. Craning your neck back, your [e/c] eyes met teal-blue ones. Ashy blond locks laying upon his shoulders, looking winded as if he ran into trouble coming here. It was none other than Albedo, the known Alchemist of Mondstadt. The man was gorgeous; you had to rub your hues the first time you saw him. 

"Down here!" you called out. In the momentary distraction, you were nearly slashed by the monster's claws in front of you.

"You were thinking of running away earlier, weren't you," he stated, his analytical gaze haunting you. "You need to fight them. How else am I supposed to study you?"

He knew you too well. At the start of his research, you were full-on board, since he was of use to you. But as time went on, the lazier you got. He promised that he would do the best of his abilities to find out the phenomenon of you coming from another world. That was right; you were from another world. You used to live in a place where there were powers of strength and speed, but no elemental powers. Sleeping and waking up to find yourself here at Dragonspine, you were at a lost of words when Albedo magically formed Geo crystals in front of you. 

Sighing in defeat, you approached the ferocious beast. Clenching your fists, you readied your stance and rushed towards it. Your knuckles jagged, you pounded them against the monster's hard chest. With a few hits, the monster was knocked into the air, before crashing to the ground with a flat thud. It was already dead.

”I will always be in awe of this,” he murmured in the distance. You whirled around to see him furiously scribbling something on his notepad. As he did that, you hugged your arms around yourself, shivering in place. It was only then when he was finished with his journaling did he notice your predicament. Slight worry tinged his expression and he quickly beckoned you with his hand. “Let’s head back to my workshop.”

Finally! After climbing up the cliff carefully, you followed the young man back to the safety of his cozy cave. Contrary to your previous beliefs, the space was much more disorganized than you expected it to be. Vials of potions were hung up, while scatters of papers decorated his desk. His creations were laid around the place and a bookshelf sat on one side. Strewn boxes filled of who knew what laid there and in the way. 

The most important part was the fire, of course. 

Pushing passed the blond male and crouching near the fire, a breath of relief left your lips. The red, fiery thing blazed like a living thing, allowing you to be able to feel your fingers once more. While you sat there, Albedo proceeded to business. At his desk, he put down additional notes, attentative to his task. It was silent for a good amount of time, but it felt right. 

You were getting quite comfortable with him. 

His hawk-like vision suddenly noticed something about you. He got out of his seat and made his way to you. Peering down at your legs, he was in deep thought. Confused by his actions, you looked down to see what he was staring at. It was a cut — one out of the many cuts you must’ve recieved during your fall. 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you brushed it off. “It was just a small fall I had.”

He ignored your words, rolling your sleeves and pants up to reveal multiple dark gashes made on your [s/c] skin. “Yes. A small fall,” he said sarcastically. “I’ll go fetch a concoction for your wounds and some bandages.”

“There’s no need for that. Nothing hurts at all,” you protested. He didn’t respond, marching forward to the shelf filled of clear bottles of bubbling substance. In dismay, you had no choice but to watch him find the materials. He was so stubborn, dammit.

He returned with the promised materials in hand and sat himself down. Carefully pulling his dark gloves out, tender, pale hands were shown afterwards. Your eyes widened. It was rare to see him without his gloves... they were as pretty as he was. Wait. This meant that he would apply it then. 

“H-Hold up! I can do this myself. You don’t need to waste time on me,” you argued. 

“Concoctions are different from regular ointment,” he explained. “Anyway, I don’t mind at all. My precious subject got hurt because of me. It is only right for me to do this.”

Subject? Ouch. That stung a lot more than you thought it would. Were the two of you not friends by now? Keeping quiet with disappointment, you eventually allowed him the opportunity to heal you up. Hard at work, he began to coat the liquid over your wounds. His soft skin gingerly spread it over your arms and legs, leaving tingles in its wake. Heart pounding against your chest, you averted your eyes away from him. What was this feeling you were having?

He ended it by wrapping the bandages professionally, securing the products in place. Looking proud of himself, he nodded. “That should do it.”

“Thank you for this,” you told him softly as you rolled your sleeves back down. “Hey, Albedo. Does your name have a meaning to it?”

He blinked at you for a few seconds, surprise painting his features. “It does. Why the sudden question?”

You fiddled with your hands in embarrassment. “Well, it’s just that you know so much about me through our researches, but when it comes to you, you remain a mystery to me. I want to get to know you a bit better.”

He looked shocked to hear this, as if this was the first time he heard someone say this to him. Despite having a popular reputation in Mondstadt, you knew his hidden side. He was a reserved person who didn’t form many relationships. Instead, he delved himself into the world of alchemy, seeking truth nonstop. It led you to think he was lonely... so you wanted to be by his side — there to always support him. Unfortunately, if you were to return to your world, your time with him was not going to be permanent. Nothing was permanent. 

“Well?” you said. “What’s the meaning of it?”

”Whiteness,” he replied, snapping out of his daze. “The measure of the diffuse reflector of solar radiation. Does it fit me?”

You could barely understand the jumble of words he uttered out. It sounded like he was speaking another language. Yet, the sentence sounded very bright, beautiful, strong, hard-working, intelligent, and amiable. It certainly sounded like him. Albedo was so radiating, you sometimes had to shut your eyes because it hurt. 

“Yes, it does.”

[carewyncromwell]

“Uptown girl --  You know I can't afford to buy her pearls, But maybe someday when my ship comes in, She'll understand what kind of guy I've been, And then I'll win!”

~“Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel

x~x~x~x

Bill Weasley had always had trouble relating to kids his age. As the oldest of seven kids, he’d pretty quickly slipped into the role of support for his mother Molly, parenting and looking after his younger siblings while his father Arthur was at work in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. Even when he was little, there wasn’t really anyone his age in his tiny hometown of Ottery St. Catchpole. All of the other magical families with kids in the area were much younger than Bill, and it was always a tricky proposition trying to play with the Muggle children who lived closest to the Burrow, with the Statute of Secrecy looming large. So when Bill got to Hogwarts, he found himself almost inevitably falling back on how he acted around his younger siblings, even with kids his own age...which, in turn, made Bill lose his footing, when those kids his age didn’t respond well to being coddled or “looked after.” And given Bill’s rather modest, people-pleasing personality, he wasn’t the type to force anyone to listen to him or do what he said...and so, almost inevitably, he found himself at a loss about how to interact with someone without looking after them in some way, on completely equal footing. And thus Bill Weasley, sweet and amiable as he was, actually found himself largely alone in those first two years he spent at Hogwarts -- and that solitude was something he found out pretty quickly he really didn’t like. 

Bill was relieved when his younger brother Charlie started his first year at Hogwarts. Although Bill had trouble admitting to his family just how unhappy he’d been those last two years, the eldest Weasley was secretly relieved that he’d now have some family at school too. He had always been closest to Charlie out of all of his siblings, given their closeness in age, so it was comforting to know he’d at least have one friend to spend time with, when he wasn’t in class. Charlie’s year, however, also included a ginger-haired Slytherin girl called Cromwell -- the same surname as the infamous “delinquent” Jacob Cromwell, who’d been expelled from Hogwarts and disappeared mysteriously a few years ago. 

Bill first heard about Jacob Cromwell’s sister Carewyn through Charlie, who’d heard that she’d stood up to another Slytherin in their year, Merula Snyde, for bullying Charlie’s timid dormmate Ben Copper and even defeated her in a duel with a Disarming Charm, a spell not taught until at least Bill’s year. Despite himself, Bill actually felt a bit relieved -- he hadn’t known Jacob Cromwell at all, but he figured it had to have been really difficult, for someone to lose their only sibling. Even if he didn’t know Carewyn Cromwell at all, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her...but at least if she was still confident enough to stand up for herself and others, then it probably meant she was doing okay, even with what had happened to her and her family. And his analysis seemed to be confirmed when Carewyn sought Bill out to get his help the following year with breaking the curse on the Ice Vault. From the moment they first met, Bill made up his mind -- Carewyn Cromwell needed someone to look after her, so he would, until she found her brother again. And so Bill and Carewyn became friends. 

In Bill’s fifth year, he was named Gryffindor Prefect. It was a rather obvious choice for Minerva McGonagall, considering Bill’s predisposition to “look after” and mentor younger students, but it still filled Arthur and Molly Weasley with immense pride. It was also the first year that Bill and Charlie invited Carewyn home for the holidays, upon hearing that her mother Lane had been commissioned by the Ministry of Magic for an international assignment and wouldn’t be able to be home in time for Christmas. When he heard Merula Snyde also wouldn’t have anyone to spend the holidays with, Bill made the remarkably kind move to invite her to the Burrow as well, even with Charlie and Carewyn’s misgivings -- but that holiday ended up being one of the best all four of them had ever had. Merula and Carewyn were even able to mend fences enough to sing Christmas carols together, the first’s clear Soprano voice hovering ethereally over the second’s warm, emotional Alto harmonies. That Christmas was also the year Carewyn gave Bill his very first record -- an album called An Innocent Man, by an Muggle artist named Billy Joel. Arthur Weasley was almost more thrilled by the gift than his son was, and he immediately brought out the Muggle record player he’d...”been allowed to take home” from work so Carewyn could show the Weasleys how to play the record on it. And for the rest of the winter break, it wasn’t uncommon for one of the Weasleys to put the record on in the background while doing dishes or playing a game of Wizard’s Chess in front of the fire. The song from the record Bill found himself humming the most, even after returning to Hogwarts, was the first song on side two of the record. He’d liked the tune immediately just because it was fun...but it also reminded him of a girl in his year he’d been trying to muster up the courage to talk to -- a very pretty and daring Gryffindor named Emily Tyler. 

“And when she's walking, she's looking so fine, And when she's talking, she'll say that she's mine... She'll say I'm not so tough, Just because I'm in love with an uptown girl!”

Emily Tyler was the most popular girl in Bill’s year, as well as one of the most popular in Gryffindor house overall. She’d made a name for herself at the Dueling Club, where she remained Gryffindor’s main champion -- it was likely only thanks to Hufflepuff’s own dueling prodigy, Diego Caplan, that Emily had any competition at all. She also was top of her class in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Bill’s favorite and best subject, even managing to Stun an entire flock of bats with one spell. And coupled with that talent was a lot of style, confidence, and ability to captivate and charm others. She never seemed uncomfortable in a crowd and never seemed to be at a loss for words around her peers -- something Bill himself still struggled with. She’d even expressed some interest in Cursebreaking post-Hogwarts, gushing about the acclaim and glamour of the profession. In short, in Bill’s eyes, Emily just seemed amazing -- a bit out of his league, sure...but maybe if he was brave and put himself out there, she might give him a chance!

So one day, right around spring break, Bill passed Emily a note in Defense Against the Dark Arts, asking her to meet him in the castle courtyard. The eldest Weasley was kind of an emotional wreck on the inside, absolutely beside himself with nerves, but he put on his bravest face anyway. He’d even brought a pink rose, which he tried to keep out of sight in his back pocket until Emily arrived. It was the flower that caught Carewyn’s eye, when she was passing through the castle courtyard. 

The third-year Slytherin had been planning on meeting up with Ben and Rowan in the library so they could study up for an upcoming Charms test, but she put that on hold, seeing her friend Bill sitting alone in the courtyard, as if waiting for someone. Normally she would've gone over to say hello, but the pink rose in Bill’s pocket made her give pause -- a fortunate thing too, for not long later, Bill shot to his feet as Emily Tyler entered the courtyard. She was dressed head-to-toe in bright pink, with her dark hair tied up in a high ponytail and her makeup impeccably neat. She wasn’t alone -- several other boys and girls were with her, all talking to her animatedly. They reluctantly waited for her at the edge of the courtyard, their eyes locked on her as she approached Bill. The scrutiny from Emily’s cohorts clearly intimidated Bill, but he didn’t let it rattle him. He faced his crush with the best smile he could.  

“Hi, Emily,” he greeted. “Thanks for coming -- I know you’re pretty busy with the Dueling Club...”

“I am,” assented Emily. Her voice was matter-of-fact. 

Bill gave a weak, uncomfortable laugh. “Well, uh...I won’t take up too much of your time, then. I just wanted to...er...”

He took the pink rose out of his back pocket and offered it to her. Emily blinked down at it in surprise. 

“I wanted to...give this to you,” said Bill with a modest smile. “Pink is your favorite color, I’ve heard. Not that I’ve been eavesdropping on you or anything,” he said very quickly, “I just heard you tell one of your friends that once, last month, and...”

Carewyn felt very uncomfortable, listening to this. Deciding at once that the whole thing really wasn’t her business and that Bill deserved his privacy, she turned to go. She probably would’ve walked away, were it not for how disdainful Emily's voice sounded, when she spoke.

“Is this...some sort of confession?”

Carewyn immediately stopped and turned back around. Emily was looking from her friends on the sidelines to Bill, her face twisted in a very critical, flabbergasted sort of look. 

Bill, to his credit, somehow managed to keep a weak smile on, even as her brought up a hand to rub behind his neck uncomfortably. 

“Well, uh...yes! I guess so. I...was sort of hoping we might be able to hang out sometime...maybe get some butterbeers in Hogsmeade or something -- ”

Emily’s eyes had widened little by little with every word out of Bill’s mouth until, finally, she brought them to an abrupt halt when she started to laugh. 

“You -- you’re serious?” she said incredulously. She glanced over to her friends on the sidelines and then around the rest of the courtyard, as if expecting someone to jump out from behind a nearby pillar. “This is a joke, right? Tell me this is a joke.”

Her laugh and slightly louder voice had caught the attention of some other students close by. Her friends over by the entrance of the courtyard were exchanging disbelieving looks and whispers among themselves. 

Bill’s smile faded. 

“A joke?” he repeated blankly. “No -- it’s not a -- ”

Emily fixed Bill with a rather pitying, condescending look as she slipped the pink rose out of his hand. 

“Look, Bill,” she said very coolly, “you’re cute and all -- but you really think you’re my type? You’re a Weasley. Prefect or no, you’re still a blood traitor in messy, second-hand clothes with younger students always tagging along after you like ducklings and a father who chases after Muggle airplanes and scooters rather than work a job that can pay the bills.”

She carelessly dropped the pink rose in the fountain and turned her back on him. 

“Maybe actually make something of yourself, and then we can talk.”

Carewyn had been furious at the things Emily Tyler had said -- but it was the absolutely devastated, heartbroken look on Bill’s darkly flushing face that made her snap. In an instant, the third-year Slytherin had barreled right up to the pink-dressed Gryffindor as she rejoined her snickering friends at the side of the courtyard. 

“How dare you!”

Emily’s friends all stopped laughing to look down at Carewyn. 

“Excuse me?” said Emily, looking down at the much smaller girl with a very condescending eye.

“Bill bared his heart to you just now, and you don’t even care!” Carewyn said fiercely. “Talking about his family being poor and liking Muggle things as if it’s something to be ashamed of...clearly Bill couldn’t have liked you for your personality, because it’s disgusting!”

Emily’s nose wrinkled as she glanced around at her friends. “I don’t think anyone’s surprised you’d throw in your lot with a Weasley, Cursebreaker kid. Your family’s got even less reputation to be proud of -- not to mention your clothes are just as out-of-date as theirs are.”

The boys in the group all gave a low “ooh,” sniggering among themselves. 

“Well, fortunately, unlike you, I could care less about my reputation,” Carewyn spat. “And I’m frankly glad of it! Bill is a kind, hardworking person who always puts others first and puts his whole heart into everything he does! If his family’s reputation makes it so you can’t appreciate any of that, then I’d say you’re the one who needs to ‘make something of yourself’ -- ”

“Carey.”

Carewyn felt a hand coming down on her shoulder, almost holding her back. She looked up, to see Bill standing over her. His gaze was locked on Carewyn rather than Emily and his face was very scarlet, but his voice was low and forcibly level. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled. 

Carewyn looked at him with concern. “Bill...”

“It’s okay,” said Bill. He forced a thoroughly unconvincing smile. “Let’s just go.”

Carewyn stared at Bill for a long moment, feeling very reluctant to let the issue go. Her eyes then fell away, drifting away -- it seemed they’d acquired an audience, in the rest of the students scattered around the courtyard.

Bill would probably be even more embarrassed, if I escalated things further, she thought guiltily. 

Exhaling quietly, Carewyn shot one more very dirty look in Emily’s direction and walked off with Bill. As they walked off, some of Emily’s friends shouted taunts after them.

“‘Mother Duck’ Weasley strikes again!”

“Follow along after Mama, little duckling!”

Carewyn forced herself to keep walking and not turn around. She shot a furtive glance at Bill, and saw that he was doing the exact same thing, even with the ruby red flush in his cheeks and the slight shine to his eyes. 

Carewyn followed Bill out of the courtyard, down the hall, through the large double doors, and out onto the castle grounds. The eldest Weasley seemed to be walking with no destination in mind, his gaze endless and his steps aimless. Carewyn could practically feel the misery, shame, hurt, and embarrassment coming off of her friend, and it made her heart hurt. Her gaze fell to her feet as they walked side-by-side together. 

“...I guess...it was her, wasn’t it?”

Bill straightened up. He’d clearly forgotten for a moment that Carewyn was there. 

“Huh?” he said, before uncomfortably adding, “...W-who?”

“Who you were thinking about, whenever ‘Uptown Girl’ came on.”

Bill flushed a dark red. “What? No, I...what makes you...think there was anyone I was...?”

“Oh, come on, Bill,” said Carewyn with a pitying look. “Your eyes were always so bright, whenever side two started up. I thought...well, there had to be something special you were thinking about, when you heard that one. Even if it wasn’t a specific person...it just felt like that song was something that spoke to you, I guess...”

She offered him a weak, sad smile. 

“...It kind of reminded me of when I sing certain songs. Like even if the words are someone else’s, you can sing them like they’re all yours.”

Bill considered Carewyn for a minute. Then, his flush darkening further, he bowed his head. 

“...Yeah. I suppose that’s true.”

He gave a low sigh.

“...What did I do wrong, Carewyn?” he asked. “Did I come on too strong? Should I have sent her a note, or asked to meet her somewhere more private?”

Carewyn whirled on Bill with an incredulous look. “What? Bill, you didn’t do anything wrong!"

“Sure feels like it,” mumbled Bill. 

Carewyn stopped right in front of Bill, putting her hands on her hips and fixing him with a very reproachful look. 

“You listen to me, William Weasley,” she said fiercely. “I may not know anything about that snobbish twit -- ”

“Emily Tyler.”

“ -- I may not know much of anything about her, but I know you, and I know you deserve so much better than how she treated you. Even if she doesn’t feel the same way about you as you do about her, there’s no excuse for how cruel she was to you...all clearly just to save face around those awful friends of hers...”

Bill blinked in surprise. “You reckon?”

“Yeah,” said Carewyn. “She kept glancing at her friends, the whole time. She rejected you that soundly because she thought they wouldn’t approve of you.”

Seeing the look on Bill’s face, she added, “But that shouldn’t matter, Bill! If Emily thinks impressing her friends is more important than being a decent human being, that’s her problem. And if her so-called ‘friends’ are the sort of people who look down their noses at good people like your family...well, clearly Emily Tyler’s a rotten judge of character.”

Bill looked a bit comforted by Carewyn’s words. He tried to smile again, but it still looked halfhearted at best. 

“Thanks, Carey,” he said lowly. “It’s just...well, she’s just so amazing. Talented and pretty and perfectly brilliant -- you should see her in Defense Against the Dark Arts, I reckon she’s on the NEWT level already. She even said she might like being a Cursebreaker, when she graduates -- travel everywhere, and become world-famous...”

Carewyn brought a hand onto Bill’s shoulder and gave it a supportive squeeze. It felt a little odd: he hadn’t really talked to anyone about his feelings for Emily, and just talking his feelings out, rather than listening to someone else’s...it was something he could only really ever remember doing with his parents, and only occasionally. It was weird, but it felt...nice.

“I just...didn’t think she’d react like that,” Bill admitted. “Not that I expected I’d sweep her off her feet or anything, but...I’d sort of hoped that she’d give me a chance, and that when we went out, we’d get on, and maybe even hit it off...”

He sighed heavily. 

“Guess I really don’t know much about love at all, do I?”

Carewyn frowned deeply. “That’s not true at all! You know plenty about love. You love your brothers and Ginny, and your parents...and you love your friends too!”

“That’s really not the same thing,” said Bill. 

“It should be,” huffed Carewyn. “Love is love. If you love someone, you care about their happiness more than your own. Sure, maybe when you marry someone, there’s a lot more kissing and you want to have kids together and stuff like that...but well, the important part is that caring, right? Without that, what does the rest of that stuff matter?”

Bill’s face softened slightly. 

“...I guess you’re right. And I guess...when I am looking for that person...I should find somebody who’ll care about my happiness just as much as I do theirs.”

Carewyn nodded with a smile. “Definitely.”

She took Bill’s hand.

“And maybe someday when your ship comes in,” she sang brightly, “she’ll understand what kind of guy you’ve been...”

Bill’s face flushed again, but this time it wasn’t out of embarrassment -- this time, it was accompanied by a bright, touched look in his brown eyes. 

“And then I’ll win,” he finished, in a much less trained, gravelly singing voice than Carewyn’s. 

Carewyn beamed. She walked on ahead, pulling lightly at Bill’s hand so as to coax him to walk next to her. 

“And when she knows what she wants from her tiiiiime~...”

Bill gave a laugh, but followed Carewyn’s lead, recalling the words by heart. 

“And when she wakes up and makes up her miiiiind~...”

Soon Carewyn and Bill were back toward the castle, swinging their linked hands idly back and forth as they sang the rest of the song together, getting louder and louder with each line. 

“She'll see I'm not so tough, Just because I'm in love with an uptown girl! You know, I've seen her in her uptown world -- She's getting tired of her high-class toys And all her presents from her uptown boys.... She's got a choice! Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh! Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!”

Before long, all the two thought of while singing that song was hanging out together and being silly, while not caring what anyone else thought. Not a single word of the song brought Emily Tyler back to Bill’s mind -- and in the years to come, Bill would continue to enjoy the song with no negative connotations whatsoever, instead only remembering when Carewyn and he sang it at the top of their lungs to make him feel better. And that moment did indeed signal a shift in the dynamic between Carewyn and Bill. For Carewyn, it made her feel like she was walking home with Jacob again -- like she had an older brother who she could look after, the way she used to for Jacob. And for Bill, it made him feel like he’d acquired a second younger sister -- one who emotionally supported him the same way he did his real siblings. 

One thing was for sure, though -- it was this moment, among many others to come, that cemented Bill and Carewyn as the very best of friends. 

x~x~x~x

Tagging @the-al-chemist​ and @oneirataxia-girl​ for expressing interest in this prompt! 🤗

Carewyn’s dress is based on the design on the left 💗

[bailey-reaper]

Do you think stronghart would use s/o as means to manipulate Barok? And if so could I request that?

Leverage

Notes: Good question, anon. My impression of Stronghart is that he would use / manipulate his own mother if it would be of benefit to himself...

S/O is gender neutral (they/them pronouns). Barok refers to them using petnames.

Content Warnings: manipulation; emotional blackmail; coercion; evil unicorn

"Ah... I do apologise for keeping you, Lord van Zieks,” Lord Stronghart walked briskly into his office, producing his pocket watch from his waistcoat and flicking it open, “It would appear that I’m... two hours, twenty eight minutes and.. forty-five seconds late."

Barok often wondered how much time Mael would save if he stopped checking the clock and invested more time in his engagements. Still, he knew full-well that this was merely another of the Lord Chief Justice’s powerplays – perhaps not even one aimed at himself personally. It was the way Mael toyed with his underlings, his friends, his family and everyone in between.

The only person he had yet to mess around like this was the Attorney General.

“... That’s alright, Lord Stronghart,” Barok answered, arms folded and head tilted slightly; it had been quite a feat to remain awake as the clockwork overhead ticked and tocked the time away, but now he could rouse himself fully and focus, “You’d said there was something of importance you wished to discuss with me?”

“Yes...” Mael wound up his watch and tucked it away, “I’ve heard that you’re rather smitten with a certain someone.”

His eyes widened. How did Mael know that?

“Hm... that look tells me all I need to know,” Lord Stronghart sighed, “You truly do like to take risks, Lord van Zieks... can you be sure of your ability to protect them? Is it wise for you to get too close to anyone, what with your... ahem. Curse.”

“... While I appreciate your concern, my lord, I believe that is a matter that does not concern you,” something about the way Mael was looking at him put him on edge. There was more to this topic of conversation than he’d disclosed thus far, “... Is there some problem with my having a relationship?”

“No... no, of course not, I’m delighted to see that even after all you’ve been through it seems a heart beats in your chest,” the Lord Chief Justice smiled, but it was devoid of any warmth or sentiment, “I just hope you’re able to protect them from the dark forces that seem to permeate your life... it would be a shame if they were to suffer on account of associating with you.”

“... I have the distinct impression we’re not talking about the usual cutthroats who seem set upon my jugular...” Barok peered coldly at the other man, “... Perhaps I’m wide of the mark, but, are you threatening me Lord Stronghart?”

“Threatening? Of course not,” Mael chuckled, twirling his cane and slapping it against his palm, “I apologise if that’s the impression you’ve gotten.... I just want to be sure that you know where your loyalties lie and that you shan’t forget them...”

A frown drew Barok’s brows together, “... I... am indebted to you for the assistance you’ve provided me since...” he still struggled to say it, even now; ten years on, it caught in his throat every damned time, “Since Klint’s passing... You’ve no need to question my loyalties. I will continue to do my utmost for the sake of the Prosecutor’s Office.”

“Ha,” a sharp snap of laughter escaped Lord Stronghart, “For the Prosecutor’s Office? It truly seems I’ve been to lenient with you since Klint’s untimely death... No, Barok, I am not asking for you to continue to do your job. I am expecting you to do your utmost to show gratitude... I do hope your... affections toward that one do not present a problem for me.”

Despite the lack of an actual threat, the veiled hints that his beloved may well suffer a detriment of some form was not lost on Barok. He watched Mael carefully, but nodded, “... I understand, my lord.”

“Good, I’m glad we have an accord. Now,” once more he flicked out his pocket watch, “I’m late for a prior engagement. Do excuse me, Lord van Zieks.”

“... Very well,” he watched the Lord Chief Justice disappear down the stairs; the ticking clocks over head had suddenly acquired a sinister tone to them. Just what was Lord Stronghart getting at? Whatever it was, he would have to be vigilant.

[morganas-pendragons]

Willow | Din Djarin

life is a willow and it bent right to your wind.. 

long story short | no body, no crime | song #3: willow 

this got away from me, i am not sorry 

tags: @snippy-tano​ / @mackstrut​ / @majorshiraharu​ / @sacred-things​ / @wonderlandgabby​ / @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol​ / @roseofalderaan​ 

set during chapter 14

Din. 

His name still rolls around inside your head like the waves of a storm building over the ocean. It’s intoxicating. Overwhelming. He had bared himself, soul and all, for you to know the most intimate details of a life that no one else has had the privilege to know. 

But someone can only bend so far before they snap. 

Life is a willow and it bent right to your wind..

It should have been easy. You and Din had brought Grogu from Corvus to Tython so the baby could use the Force Conduit to call out to any of the remaining Jedi left in the galaxy. It was supposed to be a means that would further lead him to his people. 

And lead him further away from you and the man he called his father. 

  “What’s he doing on the magic rock?” Din questions skeptically.  

  “Entering a meditative state, you di’kut.” You reply, eyeing The Mandalorian who stands at your side as you both eye your child. Grogu was young in terms of his species. You knew that. Despite his limited experience with formal training during his time at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, his reach to the other remaining Jedi was remarkable. The field he’d created was impenetrable. You and Din couldn’t get through it. “It’s a conduit. A conduit that’s powerful, Din. We can’t get through it.” 

  “You can’t either?” Din asks. “You’re-You’re a Jedi too, you should be able to get through!” 

The desperation in his voice is palpable. Seeing Grogu in the midst of the act is forcing Din to realize just who his son is - how powerful he is, and how he is so far out of his depth right now - and that, eventually, he will lose him too. Just as he’s lost everyone else, and will inevitably lose you. 

  “Grogu.” 

It’s so hard not to fall in love with the man when he holds that beskar ball the baby loves to play with up between two fingers and gently calls out his name. Grogu has made it abundantly clear that he is a daddy’s boy and thus never fails to make his father laugh with the response he gives to his name. 

You’re too busy focusing on the fact that he made Din laugh to hear anything else. 

Din won’t lose you today. Not tomorrow, but someday. Men like Din Djarin don’t get happy endings, no matter how badly they want them. 

And as you sit there tucked into his side, head tilted upward towards a helmeted face that’s most likely beaming beneath the mask, you realize that this is where you’d like to spend the rest of your life. 

You and him. Him, when you had no one else. Sounds like the ideal happy ending. 

  “Until he’s done communicating to the other Jedi,” You reach down to the belt at your waist and remove one saber, then two, and ignite both blades as you peer over the side of the hill. “We have to protect the child.” 

The two of you take off down the hill. 

The more that you say, the less I know Wherever you stray, I follow

Over the treeline, Slave One lands in the clearing with Boba Fett and Fennec Shand on board. 

I’m begging for you to take my hand 

Wreck my plans 

That’s my man 

Din yanks you behind one of the largest boulders as a series of shots rings out. It’s most definitely the man who had landed the ship over the hill, and he seems interested in Din. “I’ve been tracking you, Mandalorian.” He calls out, unaware of your presence as Din clamps his hand down harder on your mouth. 

  “Are you Jedi?” 

  “Are you kidding me?” You seethe through your Bond -which is always fun because Din is never expecting it - eyes narrowing in annoyance as you tilt your head upward to see if you can glance a peek at the newcomer. “Does everyone look Jedi to you?” 

The minute Din lets go of you, the newcomer removes his hood and you are greeted with a face you’ve seen multiple times before in your dreams from when you were younger: The same face that over a million soldiers for the Grand Army of the Republic had shared. 

  “Boba Fett?” 

That definitely catches the newcomer off guard. You’d only seen him in passing - only each other’s faces, never names -  since the last time you’d been on Tatooine, well before you’d met Din, but you had failed to mention to the Mandalorian that you had been part of the reason that Boba Fett had lost his armor to begin with. 

  “You.” 

***

Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneakin' in

You’d give Boba Fett credit for his ingenuity. You had known upon meeting him that he was a talented bounty hunter, but he was lethal. You’d never in a million years anticipated him being so deadly in the face of storm troopers. 

Then again. He was a clone. 

As if you were a mythical thing Like you were a trophy or a champion ring But there was one prize I'd cheat to win

  “If you were given the option, what would you cheat to win? What would be your prize for falling in love with him?” Cara had asked you idly when the two of you had returned to Nevarro. 

  “The best one. The one I already have.” You had murmured in reply. “His heart.” 

  “Din!” You yelled. The Mandalorian’s head snapped into your direction, wild and alert, as you rolled in front of him and held your sabers in an X formation. “Sword and shield!”

Din removes the second blaster from the holster against his thigh, and together the two of you mirror one of the very movements you had perfected with your clone troopers during The Clone War. You had been young.. but you remembered. 

The more that you say, the less I know Wherever you stray, I follow I'm begging for you to take my hand

When it’s evident that Boba and Fennec have control of the valley in which the Stormtroopers are trying to overrun them on, the two of you sprint back up the hill hand in hand to try and retrieve your child. 

Grogu is still in contact. The sight of him so at ease as he reaches out to the ends of the galaxy in search of another Jedi - one that is not you, because the person acting as his other parent cannot be the one to warn him against attachments - makes your heart ache because that ease is what he should know. What he should’ve been able to live on a world where the Empire wouldn’t try to hunt him down and slaughter him for simply being alive. 

Wreck my plans, that's my man You know that my train could take you home Anywhere else is hollow I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans, that's my man

  “Sarad!” Din yells. “It has to be you! I-I can’t-” The tips of his boots dig into the ground as he pushes himself forward, lifting each foot as he does, because Din is simply desperate enough to fight a cosmic stone. “I can’t-hold onto-him!” 

Life is a willow and it bent right to your wind... 

They count me out time and time again

You trudge forward. It’s so difficult to fight this, but you do. You trudge forward despite the pain, despite the gnawing fear that you won't be strong enough to retrieve your son, and with a bloodcurdling scream you push your hands through the field. 

Your fingers touch his robes before you’re thrown backwards and land right on top of Din. 

Life was a willow, and it bent right to your wind

  “Sarad, please.” Din’s hands cradle your cheeks as your vision swims in and out, and your head is aching and you want to sleep but your child is in danger, the man you love is in danger, you cannot just- 

  “I’m here.” You murmur, pressing your aching forehead against that of his helmet as he slowly hoists you to his feet. “Life hasn’t broken me yet.” 

He’s so kriffing proud underneath the stupid beskar. Din only hopes you can feel it through the Force. 

Head dried with blood, you throw your hair over your shoulder and cast a look down into the valley. One saber ignites, and then two. 

Din watches your back as you both retreat back down the hill. What you both remain ignorant to is that the moment you turn around, Grogu disengages and the field dissipates. 

Your son lays his weary head to rest. 

*** 

Wait for the signal, and I'll meet you after dark Show me the places where the others gave you scars

Your heart aches for him. The minute that things seem like they’re starting to go right, a single shot rings clear from the sky and blows The Razor Crest to kingdom come. Your home. Grogu’s home. Din’s home. 

The Mandalorian doesn't say a word. He just stands there and breathes in the wake of the destruction. 

  “The kid!” 

You, Din and Fennec turn around and take off back up the hill to try and reach Grogu before whoever is coming above him. There are four of them - robotic in nature - and they are coming in fast. 

  “DIN!” 

Lungs heaving, blood pumping, heart pounding, your feet slam against the Earth as you use the Force to launch yourself in the direction of the baby-- only for him to be taken into the arms of the dark trooper as you make a less then graceful landing. 

Your knees give out beneath you as your face nearly collides with the rock beneath your hands. Gravel bites into your palms. You don’t care. 

They took your son.  

The more that you say, the less I know Wherever you stray, I follow I'm begging for you to take my hand

  “Grogu.” You whisper. Allowing your eyes to flutter shut, you wish away the overwhelming feeling of tears that pool in your eyes - you’ve gotten alot more used to heartbreak since the genocide of the Jedi - and focus on the thrumming Force signature of the baby. “Stay safe, ad’ika.” 

You don’t dare tell Din the emotions that radiate from his tiny form. It’s not fear. It’s anger. 

When all is said and done, the three of you find yourself back in the ashes of The Razor Crests remains. Din sifts through until he comes up with an object, tiny and silver in nature, and you swear your heart drops into your stomach when he pockets it. Grogu’s ball. 

  “They took your son, Jedi.” Fennec murmurs, almost as if she can feel the way you are trying so hard to keep yourself composed, and lays a hand on your shoulder. It’s not the comfort you’d take from the man you love but it is more then enough. “You are allowed to grieve.” 

Wreck my plans, that's my man You know that my train could take you home Anywhere else is hollow

As Din talks with Boba and Fennec, you disappear over the hill back in the direction of the rock and ignite your sabers. Jedi are not supposed to deal with their anger this way. You don't care. 

They took your son. 

The first one goes flying down the hill by control of your capable hand, arcing through a cluster of trees at its base until there is nothing left but smoldering limbs. 

You don’t care. 

They took your son. The son of you and Din. His son. 

I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans, that's my man

  “You abandoned me.” You whisper. When no one replies, you say it just a little bit louder and with alot more force- “YOU ABANDONED ME! After everything I did, after all I lost-” Images of your final days in the Jedi Temple flash before your eyes like the images of a holodrama played out frame by frame as you are forced to watch clones murder your teachers, your friends, your family..  

A hand comes up to clasp your own, stained in blood. 

A scream echoes down a empty hall. A gun fires. Clones shout orders at one another. 

A bloodied body collapses at your feet, lightsaber rolling from limp fingers. 

These images flood your mind until they dissipate like smoke and leave you in a shattered reality where you have again lost everything you care for. “You have the audacity to take him away from me?! Why?!” 

The Force hums in your ear. You see the clones who murdered your family, who killed your Master, all the clones you had been forced to kill because it was them or you. 

Just like right now, it was the child or you and din. They chose The Child. They chose the one who could barely defend himself. He was so innocent. So gentle. 

Why did the Empire have to ruin all the gentle things? 

You throw your arm as far as you are able and send the second saber in the same direction as the first one, using bloodied hands to guide the arc made between the two as they dissect the trees in half. “Have I not suffered enough?!”

I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans, that's my man

A small voice echoes in the wake of your anguish, “What about me?” Din asks through the vocoder and catches you so off guard that your sabers come soaring into the sky and disengage with a snap of your fingers before returning to your hands. The valley beneath you is nothing but ruin. How appropriate. “Have I not suffered enough, Sarad?” A pause before his trembling hands at his sides clench themselves into fists. Your eyes follow the defeat in his body language until your eyes are high enough that if the helmet were not on, you’d be looking directly into his own. “Have I not paid enough?” Din crosses the gap between you and lightly taps the beskar’gam. “Have I... have I not lost enough?!”  

It’s not like him to yell. Not at you. Not around you. 

Was the price not high enough? What else can they take from me?

Your lips quiver as you eye the man in front of you. Without uttering another word - and in spite of the tears that fall freely down your face - your gaze never tears away from his own as you remove his glove and link each finger, one by one, until your hands are linked. 

Then you lift them to your lips, unlike your fingers, and kiss each fingertip. 

  “You haven’t lost me.” Din wraps an arm around your waist to gently pull you into his hold, fingers curling around your hips as he peers at you through the visor. You can’t see his eyes, but you imagine there’s tears reflecting in them. 

  “I will. I lose everybody. That’s why I’m lone wolf, that’s why until I met you... I was always alone.” He laughs bitterly. “A Mandalorian and his ghosts. What a pair we make.” 

You wonder if Din’s ghosts are anything like your own, wearing the faces of the people who’d left you. Who'd sacrificed themselves for you. 

Life is a willow and it bent right to your wind... 

You try to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach as he exhales shakily and rests his forehead against your own. Fennec and Boba are waiting for the two of you in Slave One, but they’re not in a rush. You have work to do in order to rescue your son from Moff’s Cruiser. 

As much as you hate it, the rescue of your child can wait for a moment if it means you can comfort Din. If Din can get to be human and grieve. He needs this moment so you can reassure him that no matter what The Empire - or the remnants of it - tries to take from him, you refuse to be a victim of it. You refuse to break. 

You won’t give them that satisfaction. 

  “You won’t.” You promise. “I belong to you. I am imprinted on you, Din. Heart,” You take one hand and press it against your chest, spreading his fingers over the pounding of your heart as you take your other hand to curl your fingers around the bottom of his helmet. You won’t lift it though. Not until he gives you permission. “Body, soul.” 

Those words ring in his mind as he takes his helmet off and allows it to clatter against the ground. The seeing stone looms behind him as his focus shifts away from that which has been taken from him, and that which is in front of him. 

You. 

  “We’re going to get him back.” You murmur against the shell of his ear as, for that sole moment, he allows himself a luxury he is so often denied. “We are going to bring our son home.”

Din’s face falls to your shoulder and he hides himself away from the world there. For that sole moment, he allows himself to be... human. 

What a luxury that a galaxy this one cannot afford him. What a luxury. 

Life is a willow and it bent right to your wind... 

[amelialincoln]

Something Good Can Work

Amelia was notoriously a light sleeper. To her frustration, Link was not. Instead, he was usually restless, dreaming about who knows what. She’d ask him about the dreams every couple of weeks, trying to force something out of him that he was obviously set on burrowing deep inside. Thus, she was always unsuccessful which resulted in many sleepless nights, as her boyfriend tossed and turned beside her. Since Scout had been born she sometimes questioned if she even slept at all. Every little sound jerked her awake and she’d find herself standing in the doorway of Scout’s room, pleading that he was still sound asleep in his crib or, as he’d grown older, his new twin bed. And he always was, with his mouth slightly agape and his little brown curls jutted out in a halo around his head. She’d triple check that the baby monitor was on and working, press a gentle kiss upon her son’s head and finally make her way back to the shared bed, where Link was probably radiating like a furnace.

Her nightly checks on Scout became a bit more obvious as she grew with their second child. At around six months Amelia lost her ability to be light on her feet, to the point where even her heavy sleeper of a boyfriend would be able to sense her trying to sneak out of their bed. He’d pull her back towards him, wrapping her up in the warm, familiar embrace, that she had become reliant on, and tell her that everything was all right. After deciding that telling him about the slight creak that came from the hallway (which was most definitely an intruder coming to take their son) was a bit delusional, the nightly routine had come to cease and forced herself to stay put as the curtains swayed and the refrigerator hummed. She knew the increasing paranoia was centred around the masked man that had come into their family store when she was young but the whole thing seemed like a lot to put on Link, so she chose to keep it all inside. Much like her boyfriend, with his own silent nightmares.

Amelia was awoken from her light sleep that morning by the slight dip at the end of their bed. Their mattress was already so unbalanced by the contrast in weight between her and Link that any added pressure would cause the bed to creak and grind along the back wall. She shot up, trying to mask the look of shock on her face as she met Scout’s grinning expression.

“Happy Mama’s Day!” Scout cried, holding out the makeshift card that he must have worked on at preschool the day before.

“Thanks, baby,” Amelia tried to hide the shake in her voice as she awkwardly pulled him up beside her, allowing him to cuddle up to her swollen abdomen. Link stood in the doorway, holding a plate of their favourite pastries from the bakery down the street, watching the exchange with slight concern.

“You slept well,” he remarked. “Didn’t even stir when I got up.” He’d begun to notice the lack of sleep that she’d been getting over the course of her pregnancy, with him becoming more and more cautious of her health. Amelia nodded as she read over the jagged but carefully cut out flower petals, each containing a letter of her name that contained an endearing word that Scout associated with her. “Long, huh?” Link chuckled, peering over her shoulder. “That’s a good one, Scout.”

“L words are hard,” Scout pouted in response. “I couldn’t think of a good one.”

“It’s good, bud,” Link laughed. “I think that one might be better for my name though. I don’t know if you’d be here right now if your Mom wasn’t so obsessed with how long I am,” he smirked at Amelia.

“Link!”

“Yeah, you are pretty tall. A lot taller than Mom. I guess she isn’t that long.” Scout shrugged, staring at the card with a pondering expression on his face. “I think love for L is a better one now. Can I go change it?” He asked.

“Of course,” Amelia responded, glaring at Link who was still suppressing laughter. “But you did a perfect job, okay? Your Daddy is just being silly.” Scout nodded, gripping the card with his pudgy toddler hands and running out of their bedroom. “You’re unbelievable.” Amelia shook her head as Link placed down the platter of baked goods and carefully lowered himself down to sit at the edge of their bed.

“You say that after you asked for sex as your gift for Mother’s Day.” He chuckled, placing a couple of soft kisses on her forehead and lips.

“I’m hormonal,” Amelia whined, biting into the croissant that Link handed to her. “And you made him feel bad about his card, which was great.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Link shook his head, his eyes casting down to the muffin he was picking apart. “Amazing, magical, exciting, long, ice cream and awesome is exactly how I would describe you too.” The grin on his face was full of amusement. Amelia shook her head, suppressing a smile as Scout came bounding back into the room with his revised card. Amelia placed it on her bedside and allowed her son to crawl into her lap and nuzzle into her chest. Scout, tuckered out from the excitement of waiting patiently for Link to allow him to wake up his mother and presenting his card, fell asleep almost immediately, small snores radiating from his mouth.

“You okay, Mia?” Link asked, pushing a fallen strand of hair out of her face as he watched her stare absentmindedly at their sleeping boy. “You seem a little out of it.” Her ocean blue eyes raised up to meet his as she snapped out of the daze she was in.

“Just tired,” she gave him a small smile. “It’s weird to think that next Mother’s Day there will be two of them.”

“Maybe even for Father’s Day,” Link grinned. Amelia nodded, pressing a hand to her stomach as their little girl rolled lazily inside of her.

“You guys walked down to the bakery this morning? I didn’t know they were open this early.” She glanced at the bedside alarm clock which read 6:45. Mornings in the Lincoln apartment were almost always early.

“We went late last night while you were still at work. We were going to just get donuts for dessert but we ended up picking up some stuff for breakfast as well,” he explained, ruffling Scout’s shaggy brown hair as he stirred in his sleep.

“You walked? Our neighbourhood isn’t the best place to be just walking around late at night, especially since Scout tends to bolt off the minute you're not watching him and go chat up strangers. I was talking to Mrs. Hudgins on the third floor and she said that two men tried to mug her on Friday. She was lucky that that guy, Kevin, in the lobby saw it happening because he came out right away. I don’t think that--”

“We drove,” Link interrupted her, watching the worry start to melt off her face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Amelia shook her head for the second time before leaning back against the bed frame. “I’m just worried that once the new baby comes I won’t be as alert if he runs off because I’ll be pushing the stroller. Or if I’ll be too preoccupied with getting her out of the carseat and won’t notice if someone comes out of nowhere and grabs him…” she trailed off, glancing at Scout who was shifting uncomfortably as Amelia had stopped playing gently with his hair. His girlfriend sighed as she dropped her previously gesturing hand back atop their son’s head.

“Hey, if it’s worrying you this much we can start looking for other places,” he assured her, placing a warm and comforting hand on her knee and shifting closer to the pair of them.

“I’ve looked a bit,” she admitted. “You know how much I like going on those real-estate websites and looking at houses just for fun." She shrugged as her smile faded. "I just think that moving would be stressful right now and I can’t help carry boxes or be on my feet all day packing. Even if we were to move after the baby’s born I’ll still be in postpartum for awhile and if I tear or anything I’ll be in recovery for a bit.”

“Well, it seems like you’ve given this a lot of thought.” Link shifted on the bed, trying to read her expression.

“I have lots of time to think about it when I’m up all night,” she tried to joke and just received a more concerned look from him. “I’m kidding.”

“Yeah, I know,” he avoided her gaze by glancing down at Scout. “We’re running late so I can drive him today.” Link pulled the protesting toddler up and into his arms.

“But it’s Mother’s Day. I wanna be with mom!” Scout shrieked, causing Amelia to wince. “Mommy, please,” he cried, as he met his Mom’s teary, hormonal expression.

“It’s okay, honey. It’s time for school but I can pick you up and we can go to the park to play,” Amelia answered, trying to keep her voice level and ignoring Link’s sympathetic gaze as tears threatened to spill from her eyes at the sight of seeing him so upset.

“Promise?” Scout mumbled as Link lingered in the doorway.

“Promise,” Amelia confirmed.

She was always shocked by how little time it took Link to get Scout ready for practically any occasion. They were out the door in five, locking it quickly and Amelia watched out the window as Link pulled out of the narrow parking garage with ease. Scout grinning from ear to ear as she watched him connect his phone to the bluetooth of their car and undoubtedly play Scout’s favourite song, which funnily enough was Better When I'm Dancing by Meghan Trainer. Amelia and Link usually couldn't help but suppress their laughter when he continued to request it every time they were in the car.

She lingered in bed for a bit longer. Her third trimester had her energy levels at an all time low. She could barely make it through a shift at work now. When she was pregnant with Scout she worked until she basically went into labor but the second time around Link would often find her passed out in on call rooms or her office when she was at the hospital and would have to practically drag her home. Eventually, she made her way into the kitchen finding a colourful bouquet of tulips and hydrangeas with a small written note from Link and the rest of the bakery goods on the island. The note contained a long and neatly written paragraph about how amazing of a mother, and a wife, she was along with a quickly scribbled message at the bottom, probably written last minute this morning, saying he had to go check up on a patient at the hospital quickly after dropping Scout off but would be back to spend the rest of the day together in an hour. They’d talked about getting married a lot but, after four years of being together and the wedding talk beginning to fade, Link had just begun to call her his wife, despite them not getting around to actually getting a marriage license. She’d already had her big fancy wedding once so it wasn’t a big deal to her; however, she wanted Link to have the same and knew that someday they would get around to at least having one themselves. She also died at the idea of Scout being their ring bearer and maybe, if she was old enough, their little girl being the flower girl.

[][][]

Link checked his watch for the thousandth time in what seemed like a singular minute. He had promised Amelia they’d spend the day together and had even asked for the day off to be with his pregnant girlfriend, who had been spending more and more time away from work as her pregnancy progressed. Apparently Nico had screwed up and had accidentally made a false diagnosis on a trauma patient so Link was there to do damage control and try to talk a patient into not deciding to sue the entire hospital.

“There’s not much else I can say to them.” Link stepped out into the hallway where an angry Bailey and a sulking Nico were waiting. “The mistake was fair, I might’ve done the same as a fellow. It’s just shitty that it happened to a lawyer who knows a lot more about the law than I do. In that case, I don’t really know why you called me in…” he glanced at his boss, “respectfully.”

“Well, considering that--”

“Dr. Bailey,” he interrupted, itching to get back to Amelia. “There’s nothing more that I can do here. Nico made a mistake. It happens all the time. As doctors we aren’t perfect but it ended up being an easy fix. The guy is an ass, he’s looking for money but in the end this hospital saved his life so what happens from now on is out of our hands.” To Link’s surprise, Bailey nodded.

“Alright, thank you for trying, Dr. Lincoln. Tell Shepherd to have your baby, we need her back. Too many stupid mistakes are ruining my hospital. Shepherd doesn’t make mistakes.” She glared at Nico before leaving the pair, who shrugged. Link nodded to his fellow with a hint of annoyance by his attitude before making his way into the elevator and glancing at his phone which had lit up with his girlfriend’s name.

“Hey, babe. Sorry I’m just heading out now, what’s up?” He pushed the P1 button and waited for his girlfriend's response.

“Link,” the panic in her voice was evident.

“What’s going on? Is the baby okay? Are you okay?” He answered quickly, ever since the scare they’d had a couple months back about a possible placental abruption the pair had been on pretty high alert, he prayed to god that everything was alright.

“I-I think someone’s trying to break in,” she answered with ragged breaths. “Someone is fiddling with the locks. I can hear them and I don’t know what to do. I don't know w-what to do. I...I love you.” Link sprinted out of the elevator as the doors opened to the underground parkade.

“Did you call the front desk? They can get to you quickly and call the police. Where are you?” He practically launched himself into their SUV as his phone connected to the car’s speakers and sound of Amelia’s uncontrollable fast paced breathing filled his ears.

“I’m in our room. I don’t know where to go,” the noise of her escalating panic attack was cut off as he heard their apartment’s door open through the phone.

“Amelia?” There was talking from the other end for a moment before her voice returned on the line.

“H-Hey, I’m sorry, it’s the apartment maintenance guys coming to fix the ice maker. I didn’t hear them knock so they thought we weren’t home and let themselves in. I’m sorry, I thought…” she trailed off and Link’s head fell forward in relief, allowing the wave of nausea that was clouding over him, at the idea of someone harming her and their baby, to pass. “Link, I--”

“It’s okay," he exhaled, "I’ll be home in a sec, okay?” He willed the sound of his own distress to be hidden by the crackling of the phone from the lack of service in the underground parkade. “Just try to calm down, Amelia. We don’t want you going into preterm labor,” he tried to keep his voice light. “I’ll be home soon.” The phone call ended as he steered out of the parking lot and out onto the highway. When he’d bought the apartment he didn’t have any thought about whether it was "kid friendly" at the time. He hadn’t even thought about the idea of sharing it with anyone else. It was the perfect place for just himself. With nice enough neighbours and not too expensive for the amount of space. He’d definitely thought about moving after Amelia had moved in and again after they’d had Scout. But like everything else in their life, including the wedding they always used to talk about, work came first and they never seemed to have the time to search for a new place.

[][][]

Upon arriving home he found Amelia curled up on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, still visibly shaking. She burst into tears as he entered the apartment and burrowed her face in her hands.

“Babe, come here,” he sighed, pulling her into his chest and wiping tears off her face with his thumb.

“I’m sorry for overreacting,” she faltered, allowing herself to finally relax into his arms. “It’s just I didn’t hear them knock, I was napping on the couch and then I woke up to the door handle rattling and it sounded like someone was picking the lock and I got so scared I couldn’t--”

“Breathe,” he reminded her, rubbing protective circles on her back. “It’s okay, Mia. As long as you’re both okay.” He watched her face change as she was reminded of the condition she was in.

“She wasn’t moving f-for awhile.” She sputtered as she followed the breathing pattern he was setting for her. “But since you’ve been back I can feel her again.”

“She just missed her Daddy,” Link smiled softly, placing a hand on the underside of her stomach and trying to distract her. “Scout’s definitely a Momma’s boy so it’s only fair this one likes me better.”

“Scout does not like me better.” Link watched her breathing normalize as her mind was filled with the thought of their son. “You’re the one who takes him to get donuts after I say no.”

“And what does he say every time I bring him and you’re not there?” Link asked, watching his girlfriend grin. “I want to bring one back for Mommy.” He mimicked Scout’s adorable pleading voice. “Speaking of Scout, he probably needs to get picked up soon.” He glanced at the clock. “Do you want me to go grab him?”

“It’s okay I’ll go, I promised him. It’s raining so we can’t go to the park but I can tell him that we’ll make a fort when we get back.”

“Are you sure you’re good to drive? You still look a bit anxious. I can come with you?” He offered, taking her cold hand into his and bringing it to his lips. She shook her head, standing up slowly with the help of his hand guiding up her lower back.

“I’ll be fine, it’s only a couple of blocks,” she assured him. “Can you make him lunch for when he gets back? He didn’t have a very big breakfast.” She noted as she absentmindedly soothed a spot on her abdomen and reached for her coat.

“Of course,” he confirmed, stepping up to help her. “Call me if you need anything.” Even though today was a false alarm he couldn’t help but feel an added sense of worry that came with her being by herself but he didn’t want to scare her with his own unease. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[][][]

Scout was visibly upset by the lack of visit to the park as Amelia secured him into his car seat. He gripped tightly onto the bouquet of wildflowers he picked at recess to add to his father’s preexisting bouquet of flowers that sat in the kitchen before he handed them to his mother, as she finished clipping him into his car seat.

“Getting big,” a voice from behind her made her jump. She turned to find Scout’s teacher from last year getting into the parked car beside theirs. “When are you due?”

“Next month,” she answered lightly. “On the sixth.” She smiled at Scout before shutting the door and climbing into the front seat to avoid getting any wetter.

“We’ve seen a lot of Atticus around,” the teacher continued. “Scout mentioned that you were feeling sick a lot?”

“Mostly past that now,” she glanced back at Scout who was nodding and shook her head with amusement. “His father just usually picks him up on his way back from work now since I’m on maternity.” The man nodded, giving Scout a quick wave who returned it excitedly.

“Well, it's nice to see you around again, I definitely miss having Scout in my class. Have a great rest of your day,” he replied before pulling out of the parking lot.

“You miss your mom picking you up?” Amelia smirked into the rearview mirror at Scout who was still happily smiling to himself about receiving some appraisal from his teacher.

“Nooooooo,” Scout giggled. “You just talk to the other moms for so long it means I get more play time.”

“Right,” she laughed.

[][][]

Amelia pushed open the door to their apartment and watched Scout launch himself into his father’s arms, out of breath from climbing the stairs. The two stared back at them, with the same happy grin that was the one trait in which Scout had adopted from his father.

“My handsome boys,” She laughed, as they both wore an adorable blush. “What did Daddy make you for lunch?” She asked as Link set him down in his highchair which they still used considering that Scout was the squirmiest toddler and had adopted his mother’s ADHD.

“Grilled cheese!” Scout announced happily, doing his little food wiggle. Link chuckled, setting down the plastic plate on the highchair and receiving the high five that Scout was attempting to slap him with.

“Hey, I have something to show you,” he whispered, guiding Amelia over to the couch gently and pulling her into his lap. He quickly typed his password into his laptop and clicked on one of the open tabs.

“Link…”

“It's a five bedroom. Which I know is super big but Maggie always says that you wanted four kids.” He rested his chin on her shoulder as he watched her face flicker with surprise. “But if we don’t want that anymore one...or two can be guest rooms.” She shushed him, motioning for him to keep clicking through the photos. “It’s got a big backyard and look at the master bathroom. You always talk about wanting two sinks right? Cause I’m so messy. Isn’t it nice?” He teased, she nodded soundlessly. “And here’s the kitchen.” She let out a little gasp. “That’s big enough for a family of six, huh?” He let her look through the rest of the photos, biting the skin on the top of her thumb as she looked. “It’s like a ten minute drive from Mer’s.”

“Link, this is way out of our budget and look, it’s already sold,” she muttered, lingering on the photo of the bedroom that had been staged as a nursery. Link could practically feel her hormones raging.

“Do you like it?” He asked tentatively.

“I mean of course, it’s perfect.” He let out a sigh of relief.

“I was hoping you’d say that cause people were bidding and we were going to lose it. So I kind of bought it.”

“You, what?” She spun around to face him.

“Happy Mother’s Day?”

“You bought a freaking house for Mother’s Day?” Her eyes were wide and teary.

“Yeah, that might have been a bit of a stupid decision to make on my own. I’m realizing that now,” he bit his lip uncomfortably.

“Thank you,” she finally managed to say through tears, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in as close as her baby bump would allow. “I love it. Thank you.”

“I just was in a position where if we put an offer in it would’ve been sold and I got Jackson to facetime me and walk around in it because they were holding an open house and he lives nearby. I’m sorry if you’re freaking out a bit.”

“I mean a bit. When do we move in? I’m not going to be much help.”

“First of June,” he watched the wheels turn inside her head.

“We’re moving in a week before I’m due?” She exclaimed, glancing around at everything that was going to be needed to be packed away. “Link.”

“I know...but it’s going to be fine. Maggie offered to help and I’ll handle everything, okay? I talked to Bailey and she’s going to give me some time off to sort through everything.”

“Okay…” she replied hesitantly, staring at the photos of their place again. “Is this even real? Aw, Link, look at the swing set in the back. Maybe she’ll be a movement baby like Scout and I can swing with her outside while he plays.” Her eyes rested on Scout who was continuing to demolish his lunch.

“And the hammock in the back corner, did you see that?” He answered excitedly. “We can lie in there together when it gets warmer with the kids.”

“It’s perfect,” she said in awe. He leant back in relief, her words obliterating all his fear and looked over his shoulder at his son, who was licking his leftover smoothie off the high chair surface.

“Hey bud, what do you think of a swing set?”

“For me?” Scout exclaimed, his eyes widening with excitement and turning to his mother for confirmation. Amelia nodded, laughing at the reaction that their three year old was displaying to them.

“You did good, babe,” she squeezed his hand gently with a hint of pride. “You did good.”

[seventhstrife]

SubScorp Week 2021 Day 4: Lust 1/3

I AM SO MAD ABOUT THIS PROMPT!!! IT GOT RIDICULOUSLY LONG!!! LIKE, AN UNREASONABLE LENGTH OF FIC WAS ACHIEVED THROUGH THIS PROMPT THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE EASIEST ONE!!! WHY IS MY BRAIN LIKE THIS!!!

Special shoutout to all of the wonderful, lovely, ridiculously patient people on discord who weathered me complaining about my stupid hellbrain lolol

Only part 1 tonight since I literally spent all day writing nearly 10k words, and there’s no way I can edit it and also sleep before my shift LOL

Read it on AO3.

Part 2

It would have been kinder, perhaps, to simply announce his arrival, but Hanzo had grown so fond of being amused in recent years and he could not resist the urge to indulge.

Gathering a handful of small stones, Hanzo climbed the nearest building and darted across the sun-baked clay of the rooftops, careful to remain unseen as he trailed his target.

A smile curled his lips beneath his mask. He waited until he was sure he was completely concealed, then let loose one of the pebbles in his grasp—a direct hit to the back of Kuai Liang's head.

The sight of Kuai Liang's flinch, as well as the sharp snap of attention and his dark expression of annoyance and suspicion through the crowded, dusty streets of the road, stretched Hanzo's smile into a grin. He bled into the shadows, knowing he would have to be swift if he wanted to stay ahead of Kuai Liang's attention.

He only managed one more stone's throw before Kuai Liang wisened up and scaled the nearest building. He was no fool, and tracing the stone's trajectory was a simple thing. Hanzo was forced to duck behind any cover he could find to avoid the Lin Kuei Grandmaster's thorough, careful scrutiny of his surroundings.

His next throw would be his last, he knew. He would have to make it count if he did not wish to be caught.

Hanzo crouched low and waited for his moment. The instant Kuai Liang turned, still scanning his surroundings for any movement, he sent his last stone flying.

He saw the beginning motion of Kuai Liang's whip-fast reaction, hand darting up in a flash to catch the stone, but Hanzo was already gone, swallowed in hellfire, and before Kuai Liang's fist fully closed around the rock, Hanzo appeared directly behind him.

Hanzo didn't hesitate. He tackled Kuai Liang to the roof, perched atop his chest before he could react.

Blinking in the harsh sunlight, Kuai Liang's scowl of deadly promise melted away into shock.

"Hanzo?"

Hanzo smirked. "Is this the standard of Lin Kuei assassins?" Hanzo shook his head. "Perhaps I should reconsider allying myself with a clan that is so soft."

Kuai Liang's eyes narrowed in a glare, but it was lessened by the reluctant smile that tugged on his lips, as if against his better judgment.

"I think I am the one who should be reconsidering my allies, if they are so eager to attack me on the streets," Kuai Liang pointed out, and Hanzo chuckled, finally stood and offered his arm.

Kuai Liang took the offered hand and absently brushed himself as he stood. His dark eyes, pleased and curious in equal measure, peered at Hanzo with confusion.

"What brings you to Outworld, Hanzo? And to me, specifically?"

Hanzo crossed his arms, gazing across the sand-dusted streets and modest abodes of the city, half of it hollowed out from the bright red clay of a mountain.

"I had received word that you accepted a mission from the Thunder God." Hanzo's face darkened with a grimace. "I would be neglecting the conditions of our alliance if I did not aide you."

"My mission is one of reconnaissance, Hanzo," Kuai Liang said, brow furrowed. "My life is hardly in danger."

"No mission from Raiden is as simple as he makes it seem," Hanzo said darkly. The loss of his clan—again—still burned. "If my presence is an insult, I beg your forgiveness," Hanzo continued, and he bowed. When he rose, he met Kuai Liang's eyes dead-on, determined and stubborn. "Allow me to accompany you, if only to set my mind at ease."

Kuai Liang had appeared taken aback at first, but understanding quickly bled onto his expression, and no little guilt. His own memories of the Kamidogu, and the manipulation he'd suffered, did not appear to have been forgotten either.

"...I accept your offer, Hanzo. Thank you." Kuai Liang said, and he returned the bow. "Shall we?"

The Thunder God's power had sent Kuai Liang to an Outworld city, but Kuai Liang's true destination laid deeper in the forest. An ancient temple, Kuai Liang informed him, long abandoned, had been rumored to have worshippers once more. Raiden merely wanted confirmation of such a thing, to decide his next move. The worship once practiced there had been forbidden, one steeped in ritual sacrifice and practices so brutal and cruel that even Outlanders shunned it, and if some sort of revival was in the making, Raiden suspected it would only be a matter of time before the cult spilled into Earthrealm and claimed the inhabitants there for their depraved rituals.

A simple mission, but one that did nothing to abate the uneasy feeling that had overcome Hanzo from the moment he'd learned of Kuai Liang's undertaking. He had not lied to Kuai Liang for his reasons for being here, but he had neglected the full truth: that, more than anything, he worried for his friend and what might happen to him when caught up in another machination of a God.

Once Kuai Liang had debriefed him, they fell into silence, traveling the forest with their ears peeled for the slightest sound that stuck out: voices, a footstep, anything that would confirm Raiden's suspicions. But caution and vigilance would only help them so much if Raiden had sent them into some sort of trap.

Hanzo pushed the worry from his mind. Nothing will happen to him. I will ensure it, he vowed.

The temple emerged from the trees when they were nearly on top of it. If it had been recently re-occupied, it did not show on the outside. The forest had been allowed to encroach upon it, nearly to the doors, and lichen and vines covered the side of the crumbling stone building as nature reclaimed it.

Hanzo and Kuai Liang knelt side by side as they observed the building, but it truly seemed abandoned.

"Shall we take a closer look?" Kuai Liang asked once it was plain they were quite alone outside.

Hanzo repressed a grimace; telling Kuai Liang he had a 'bad feeling' was out of the question, unless he wanted to make Kuai Liang think he indulged silly superstition and thus, lose his respect forever.

Hanzo nodded. They took a closer look.

Their steps were slow and cautious as they climbed the sun-bleached steps. Cracks and fissures stretched across nearly every surface, and while the stains were very faint, Hanzo still recognized the dried blood dotted across the stone.

It only took a few minutes to carefully sweep the temple for signs of life, and they met in the dusty temple's center once they were done.

"It appears abandoned," Kuai Liang observed, dark eyes lingering in a dark corner for one last check before he finally looked at Hanzo.

"I agree," Hanzo said, crossing his arms. "I hope the Thunder God has promised you something worthwhile for this waste of time."

A small smile tugged on Kuai Liang's lips; Hanzo pretended he did not find the sight incredibly gratifying.

"The terms of a contract are confidential, Hanzo."

"So, nothing," Hanzo surmised with a nod. "Unsurprising."

Kuai Liang's smile grew, amused. "Your time was wasted as well," he pointed out. "Will you demand compensation from Raiden?"

"Do not tempt me," Hanzo warned. He could do so without shame or remorse. After what the Thunder God had put them both through, it was the least he deserved.

Kuai Liang opened his mouth, eyes dancing with mirth—

But then his eyes shifted, just slightly, and he tensed, all over.

Hanzo barely had time to react before Kuai Liang was shoving him with a rough shout of, "Get down!"

His balance was upset but Hanzo recovered, quickly rolled to his feet in a crouch, one arm braced on the floor, the other already unsheathing his dagger.

"Jussst asss my hunger growsss, what ssshould I find but fresssh blood in the unlikeliessst of placesss?"

Skarlet ascended the last steps of the temple, an expression of satisfaction and interest on her features. She held a single hand aloft where an orb of thick, viscous blood twirled idly.

She came to a stop some distance away and widened her stance. Her fingers curled into claws and she stretched the blood like a scarf between her palms. Her eyes flashed between the two of them.

"My lucky day," she rasped slowly.

Hanzo frowned heavily, though it was almost a relief to finally face the inevitable complication he had been expecting this entire time. He darted a quick glance at Kuai Liang.

Kuai Liang was much in the same position and appeared unscathed as he leveled Skarlet with a heavy frown. A smear of blood shards streaked across the space they once stood.

"What are you doing here, Skarlet?" Pure, icy contempt dripped from his tone.

"I am the one who ssshould be asssking the questions, Sub-Zero." Skarlet arched a single thin eyebrow. "Asss the Outworlder, I am not the one who doesss not belong here..."

Hanzo rose and Skarlet's gaze cut to him, wary and deadly. He unsheathed his second dagger and gave them a spin.

"You are outmatched, Skarlet." He pointed at her with a blade. "You would be wise to leave."

Her mouth was hidden behind a crimson mask, but her smile was only too obvious in her tone.

"I am trembling with fear," Skarlet said mockingly, and barely before she'd finished drawing breath, she moved her hands in a quick sweeping motion that sent a wide arch of blood, suddenly crystallized, straight for them.

Kuai Liang had his ice to defend himself with, so Hanzo did not waste a moment summoning a ring of fire, nose wrinkling as the blood met his flames and burst on impact. A power based on draining the life from another—it was barbaric.

Hanzo's words had not been an idle boast—together, he and Kuai Liang were formidable, and years of fighting at one another's side had only fostered a deadly alliance, one of devastating power and precise, efficient strategy.

Barely minutes into the fight, Skarlet was showing signs of unease. She was smart to keep her back to a wall at all times, to better prevent them from flanking her, but the ceaseless assault of ice and fire was clearly wearing on her.

When Kuai Liang froze her leg, just long enough so that she caught a fireball to the chest, she staggered, fell to one knee as her harsh breaths echoed through the ancient temple.

Tales of her cunning and deadliness had not escaped them, however, and neither man allowed their guard down, approaching slowly, fists raised.

"Thisss," Skarlet panted, glaring at the two of them, "Isss hardly fair, isss it?"

"You chose this fight, Skarlet," Kuai Liang said pitilessly.

The way her eyes narrowed at Kuai Liang—that earlier feeling of unease rose within Hanzo once more.

"I did," she agreed. "And it isss time I evened the oddsss..."

Skarlet thrust the hand—that before had been clutching her side—at Kuai Liang, and a small disk of blood, no doubt razor-sharp, shot towards him at an incredible speed.

Too fast to deflect it properly, Kuai Liang raised his arm, and Hanzo only caught a glimpse of how it burst moments before impact, hovered in the air in dozens of pinpricks of needle-thin blades, before crashing again. As Kuai Liang dropped to a knee and ducked, shielding his face from the worst of it, Hanzo was already backing away as Skarlet flew at him in a sudden burst of deadly fury.

"I can already tassste your blood," Skarlet said with relish. The blade of her blood dagger locked with Hanzo's and their faces hovered close. Her eyes shined with wicked triumph. "I will enjoy gorging myssself in the daysss to come."

Hanzo only glared back, disgusted. Between them, a sudden light grew and Skarlet glanced down with wide eyes to see her dagger glowing-white hot to match where it met Hanzo's as his arms caught fire.

An instant later, the blade, warped, shifted, and burst. Skarlet cried out, backing away as the blood singed her and the hands she shook out were bright red from the blistering heat.

"You will only taste defeat," Hanzo swore, summoning his kunai.

The low thump of a body hitting the ground drew his attention away, however, and it was with dread that Hanzo clapped eyes on Kuai Liang—teeth gritted in a grimace of pain, hands clawed against the stone as if he might crumble the stone at their feet.

He raised glassy, straining eyes to meet his.

"H-Hanzo," Kuai Liang managed, and then he shuddered, hunched over, and a low grunt of pain escaped him.

The sight and sound of him chilled Hanzo to his very core. Kuai Liang had been trained, practically since infancy, to withstand incredible amounts of pain. Anything that made him cry out like that—

Hanzo looked to Skarlet and he had no problem recognizing the sheer relish and satisfaction of her expression.

The hellfire, always kept carefully maintained, overflowed into instant, black fury.

Faster than she could ever predict, Hanzo flew across the room, seized Skarlet by her neck and did not stop until he slammed her against the opposite wall. Her strangled choke—brutally cut off by his hands, pressing deep—only incensed him further because this one cry of pain was not enough.

"What have you done to him?"

Skarlet strained against his grip, but she could not touch him, not when he burned so hot. She quickly realized she could not escape, but she only laughed, a reedy, raspy thing that made Hanzo see red.

"It—It isss a new concoction," she hissed, throat working harshly beneath his fingers. He barely loosened his grip so that she could speak, despising every moment he was not killing her. "One I-I have been..." She swallowed. Her heels scraped against the stone wall for purchase. "Very eager to try out."

Hanzo tightened his grip once more and Skarlet's eyes grew larger, panicked and desperate.

"WHAT. HAVE. YOU. DONE."

With each word, flames licked Hanzo's tongue, eager to escape. The temptation to release the flames on Skarlet's wretched head, to burn away her smirk until only bone remained, was nearly overwhelming.

But Kuai Liang's life hung in the balance. He could not give in to anger.

He allowed Skarlet breath, and she finally spoke, "That blood wasss poisoned," Skarlet hissed and Hanzo tensed.

"Where is the antidote," he demanded, and Skarlet laughed again.

"It isss not that sort of poissson," she said. "Thisss one was made for...ssspecial occasssionsss..."

Hanzo narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?"

Skarlet looked into his eyes and victory shined in her dark, mad eyes.

"It isss a powerful aphrodisssiac," she purred, and Hanzo tensed. "If he is not sssatiated, his blood will boil."

Alarmed, Hanzo glanced at Kaui Liang. It looked as if he was already feeling the effects, if the way he clutched his abdomen meant anything. He ground his forehead against the filthy stone floor and even a short distance away, Hanzo could see the red welts rising from his skin, as if he were burning from the inside out.

"It would be bessst," Skarlet continued, able to speak more in Hanzo's moment of distraction, "If you left usss here." Her eyes darkened with desire and twisted eagerness. "I am more than up to the tasssk of helping him, and I am sssure he will find me very sssastisfying."

Kuai Liang would rather die, Hanzo knew.

Slowly, every line of his body a taut line of repressed violence, Hanzo allowed Skarlet to slide back down the wall so that her feet touched the floor.

Her eyes brightened with victory—and then Hanzo yanked her close, so that they instead widened with surprise and a quick flash of fear—for he had not released her yet.

"No," he simply said, and then he shoved Skarlet back.

Her skull cracked against the stone and she went limp.

Hanzo let her drop carelessly, turned his back on her, and quickly made his way to Kuai Liang's side. She would not die, he was sure of it, and though he dearly wanted to make her pay for poisoning Kuai Liang, there was still a chance she would be needed in the future, should her words prove false and some sort of antidote could only be procured through her repulsive blood magic.

Hanzo fell to his knees at Kuai Liang's head, hands hovering or unsure.

"Kuai Liang..."

Shakily, Kuai Liang raised his head. Hanzo didn't hesitate to clasp his hand when it was raised and his eyes widened to feel the heat of him, hot enough to rival his own skin.

"Hanzo..." Through his fierce grimace, Hanzo saw the flicker of uncertainty, the worry and anxiety brought on by this sudden vulnerability.

"I have you," Hanzo assured him and he squeezed his hand tightly. "We will fix this, I promise you."

Kuai Liang stared into his eyes for a moment, panting, face beginning to bead with sweat.

He sagged with a nod, weary and pained.

Hanzo swallowed them both in hellfire, and only the scorched stone and Skarlet's crumpled form marked their ever being in Outworld.

[oss-crime]

Chapter 2-Project “Ma” –Eve–; Scene 3

Original Sin Story: Crime, pages 23-37

Apparently the carriage’s speed was enough to outrace their pursuers.

After they arrived at Nemu village, they headed for Eve’s house, which was also the residence of the village chief.

This village had no clinics. As he had some medical knowledge, the village chief also acted as the village doctor.

“Welcome home…And who are these people, Eve?”

Chief Zvezda’s eyes went wide when he saw Eve carrying in two men, one of them injured.

“They were attacked on the plains by the white army. This one’s wounded.”

“It looks that way…Well then, you sit over here. I’ll examine you.”

Seth obeyed the chief’s words, taking a seat in a chair set deeper in the room.

After watching him silently, Eve spoke up to Adam “Are you alright? You didn’t get injured or anything?”

“No, luckily for me. More than that—”

Before Adam could continue his sentence, the village chief cut in as he wrapped a bandage around Seth’s head, “Judging by your outfits…you two are researchers from the royal capital.”

“Ho, you’re quite well-informed.”

“Director Horus of the Royal Research Institute is an old acquaintance of mine. Is he still working hard on research artifacts as usual?”

Adam hesitated for a moment, before telling the chief, “No…He’s passed on. Two years ago. Right now I’m working as director in his place.”

“How…I see, I hadn’t known. I’ve stopped going to the Twelve Royal Capitals lately. And so that would make you—”

“Horus’ adopted son, Adam.”

“I’ve heard your name from him, but I suppose that would make this our first time meeting like this.”

“Yes, and—"

This time Seth butt in. “Erm…I’d appreciate it if you could patch up my wound first.”

“Oops, sorry.”

The chief flusteredly resumed wrapping bandages.

“…Hm?”

He made a puzzled expression, peering at Seth’s face.

“Your left eye looks funny. Is that injured as well?”

“Ah…No, it’s always been like that. I haven’t been able to see out of this eye from birth.”

“A defective left eye…Horus was like that too, as I recall.”

“Ha ha, that’s right. Just a coincidence.”

.

After Seth’s treatment was finished, the researchers bowed their heads to Eve and the village chief and said their thanks.

The chief offered for them to rest at the village for a while.

“The white army wouldn’t go as far as attacking us here,” the chief revealed.

Adam replied, giving him a courteous smile, “Is that because this place is a village of sorcerers?”

“…My my, so the son of Horus is able to glean that much.” The village chief sat down in a nearby chair, a hand on his aching hip. “Let me ask you a question instead, Adam. For what purpose did you all come to this remote place? I’d think that scientists would have little interest in an excavation site, of all things.”

“That’s not so. After all is said and done we’re researchers of the old legacy. It wouldn’t be all that strange for us to want to see where it’s excavated.”

“But up until this point we have never once had a scientist go visit there. Your aim is not the excavation site.”

The village chief’s tone had hardened, but Adam wasn’t intimidated. “Chief Zvezda—No, esteemed sorcerer Raiou Zvezda. It seems you have something in mind already. As it happens, we also have several things we’d like to talk to you about.”

“So I’m the one you’ve been after.”

“Actually, to be more accurate—” Adam turned to Eve. “—We came here to meet her.”

The peaceful atmosphere that had been in the room just moments ago changed in an instant.

Eve could feel a sense of unease.

This wasn’t a light matter; especially considering they had come here with a retinue of soldiers.

Appearing to guess at Eve’s anxiety, the chief said to her, “Eve, please go outside for a minute.”

But Eve shook her head.

“If there’s a reason why these scientists are interested in a humble village girl like me, then I want to know what it is,” she said, somewhat challengingly.

It wasn’t like she’d never done anything of note. Depending on the situation…there was a chance that she would have to drive off the scientists that she’d rescued herself.

“Oh dear, let’s all calm down now, everyone.” Seth stood in the center of the group, remonstrating all present. “Sorry for being rude. …I’m sure you are as well, aren’t you Adam?”

“…”

“None of us wants to see this turn out like what happened with the ‘Witch of Merrigod’.”

Upon hearing that name, the village chief’s gaze turned even sharper. “So…you two are on a ‘witch hunt’ after all!”

“You’re quite knowledgeable. I suppose you…suspected us of that from the start. You not knowing about Dr. Horus’ death—was also a lie, I imagine.”

“I said this earlier, but I haven’t gone to the Twelve Royal Capitals in some time. I rarely even go outside the village. …But sorcerers have a network that allows them to share information.”

“The spell that uses green onions? Talking to people at long distances…Well, leaving that aside you have several misunderstandings here, so I shall explain.”

Adam looked at Seth with dissatisfaction. “No, I’m the one who—”

“Just leave this to your underling. Mister Director.” After cutting Adam off, Seth once more bowed to Eve and the village chief. “I have yet to introduce myself. My name is Seth Twiright. I work for the Royal Research Institute, and I am the late Dr. Horus’ top apprentice.”

“���Self-labeled top apprentice,” Eve heard Adam quietly mutter.

.

Levianta was called a “Kingdom”, but at present the position of ruler was not something gained by heredity.

In this country that was born to protect the temple and flourishing through the legacy bequeathed by the gods, the “gods” were absolute, and all people were little more than their servants.

The one who ruled the country had to be someone who could hear “the voice of the gods”. And the one they deemed most suitable for that was a virgin who commanded extraordinary magical power.

For that reason Levianta was ruled through the ages by a “queen”, but there were various institutions that existed for selecting that queen.

The special orphanage owned by the Loop Octopus family, the Lighwatch temple managed by the Asayev family, the Royal Research Institute run by the Vaju family, etc…

This also served as a source of political conflict in the senate. Because whichever establishment the queen was born into decided who was the next head of the senate. The current queen Alice Merry-Go-Round had once been a child raised in the special orphanage.

“Naturally, the other families don’t just passively sit and watch. There are a lot of senate members who get worked up over making the next queen show up from their own facility. As for the Vaju family, they’ve been seeking out results from a certain experiment…”

The village chief covered his face with his hand as he listened to Seth’s explanation. “Scheming to artificially birth a child with strong magical potential…How frightening.”

“Be that as it may, if we hadn’t then the institute wouldn’t get its funding for the legacy research. Dr. Horus couldn’t afford not to comply.”

“There have always been shady rumors about the Royal Research Institute. That to birth the ‘next queen’ they abduct potential mothers from all over. …Though Horus never told me anything himself.”

“That’s another misconception. It’s not like the research institute is forcibly making off with these women. It’s all out of their consent—if it means performing a service to the gods then everyone is quite happy to participate in our research.”

The village chief snorted, clearly not believing him. “It hasn’t been like that recently, at the very least. You’ve all been carrying out ‘witch hunts’, even using troops for it.”

“To be accurate, they’re a peace-keeping force. And, well, we’ve found ourselves in certain circumstances that require we hurry.”

“Why is that? As I recall the current queen is still in her forties. Her dynasty should last for another twenty years more at least.”

“…The institute is no longer searching for someone to be the ‘mother of the queen’.”

“--? What do you mean?”

“We are trying to find a woman who can become queen. And the new queen will also become the mother of the gods…The ‘Ma’.”

“You can’t mean…!? The ‘Ma’ is little more than a fairy-tale!”

Seeing the chief’s astonishment, Eve asked, “Father, what’s the ‘Ma’?”

“…It is said that when catastrophe is on the cusp of visiting this world, the dragon god LeviaBehemo with two heads and two wills will have a second coming in this world as human children. And the woman who births these ‘Twins of God’ is ‘Ma’…the divine mother, Mem Aleph…It’s an old myth passed down from long ago.”

“Erm…” Eve then said to Seth, guessing on her own what the conclusion to the story she just heard was then. “…So if the gods must be reborn in this world…Then does that mean that there really is a catastrophe coming?”

Seth briefly clapped for her. “That’s correct, Miss Eve.”

“But what’s your basis for that?”

“It was none other than the dragon god LeviaBehemo who prophesized thus. Through the queen. We’ve never had an oracle be wrong before. The senate needed to come up with a countermeasure post-haste.”

And the countermeasure drafted by the senate head Miroku Loop Octopus was project “Ma”.

They changed the role of the next queen selection measures to search for a woman who could become the mother of the gods.

Once she had safely birthed the children that would become receptacles for the gods, she would obtain the position of queen in place of Alice, as reward for her service. …That sort of thing.

“But if you do that then the current queen will have to step down. Can the senate really decide that on their own?”

“The current queen agrees with this project as well, you see. …I mean, I think that the members of the senate wouldn’t be able to move with this much forward momentum if she didn’t.”

The one who managed to produce the mother of the gods from their institution would achieve glory as the savior who protected the world from catastrophe.

And also the position of next head of the senate.

“…Anyhow, the Royal Research Institute must also search for ‘Ma’ candidates under orders of the Vaju family.

Upon hearing that the village chief gave a sideways glance to Eve with a sullen expression. “And so…you’ve selected my own daughter as an ‘Ma’ candidate.”

“The Royal Research Institute is seen as the most plausible source for completing this project. So the head of the senate has given the institute several authorizations. Such as to freely make use of security forces and their information.”

“But if the Royal Research Institute were to successfully carry out Project ‘Ma’, Miroku will lose his position as senate head. Is he alright with that?”

“Well, I don’t know that far…But I imagine it would be pretty difficult to find the ‘Ma’ in Senator Miroku’s special orphanage. And so…maybe his plan is to be able to continue to wield some influence in the senate even after stepping down by collaborating with the facility most likely to succeed.”

“What an awful power struggle.”

“I agree. Well, anyway, it’s thanks to our information that we were able to learn of some rumors around here…”

That was, the rumors of the “Witch of the Forest” that supposedly would appear in the sprawling “Forest of Held” to the south of the village.

There was a girl who would use magic to drive off the tribesmen that would appear every now and then…She had green hair, and would cast lightning with a blue spoon…Supposedly.

“According to what we’ve heard, she’s the bearer of significant magical power. Only, this region is currently being terrorized by that savage clan. That’s why we brought along minimal guards with us…Though conversely, that seems to have just spurred them on.”

Listening to all that, Eve was reminded of the soldiers that they’d left out on the plain. “I wonder if…those guys are alright.”

Adam had been quiet this whole time, but he replied, “The peacekeeping unit…especially Gammon, are all strong men. They can’t use magic, but they are proficient with swords and guns. They won’t be defeated by the likes of those tribesmen.”

“But—”

“In the worst-case scenario, they’ll seek out reinforcements from the royal capital…Right now it’s us I’m worried about.”

Eve felt her cheeks flush from being looked at by this man so close to her in age.

There weren’t any intrepid, intellectual guys like him in the village.

“Hmph…It sounds like you two are mistaken about something.” The village chief cut in between Eve and Adam. “This ‘Witch of the Forest’…I’ve certainly heard of that story, but that isn’t Eve.”

“B-but, she has the same green hair, and her magical ability—”

As Adam tried to argue, the village chief quietly shook his head. “Green hair is a trait shared by the people of the forest…And as for magical ability, everyone in the village has it in varying measures.”

“…Let me ask then, Chief. Are there any other green-haired girls in this village—”

“No. We’re immigrants who originally wandered here from elsewhere. But Eve is different. She was abandoned and set adrift in a nearby river when she was a baby. My late-wife scooped her out. We raised her as our own daughter.”

“So then—”

“Did the intel you gathered claim that the Witch of the Forest was someone in this village?”

“No, it…didn’t say that…”

“If you’re looking for a girl with green hair, I’d suggest going to the Forest of Held. You’re sure to run into the people of the forest immediately.”

“…Seth.”

Adam gave Seth a prompting glance.

“O.K. Now it’s time for this.”

What he brought out was a small iron rod that forked into two prongs.

“This is an artifact. It can measure someone’s latent magical potential by holding it out in front of them like this…Augh!” Appearing to have realized something, Seth looked up to the ceiling and held his head. “We don’t have the output device! I left it in the carriage.”

“What!?”

“No…It’s understandable. With the way things were there wasn’t any time to take out something so heavy…”

“…Nothing for it. We’ll have to go back there and get it.”

Adam asked if they could borrow Eve’s automated carriage.

Given that it would be dangerous to bring a woman over to where there might still be some tribesmen, he apparently intended to go get the equipment with Seth.

“But you need magical ability to run the carriage.”

“Don’t worry. I have enough myself.”

Thinking on it, he had been riding in a large automatic carriage. Adam must have been driving that one too.

“Don’t break it. It’s very important to us.”

Adam nodded at Eve’s words, and started to move to leave the house with Seth along.

--But that moment, they heard the shrieking sound of a car wheel from outside.

“Huh!? …Could it be?”

Adam leaned out the window.

And there he beckoned over someone who was outside.

After a beat, a long-haired man walked into the room.

He had a gun and a sword sheathed at his hip. He appeared to be a military man.

“So you’re alright, Gammon.”

This man named Gammon exchanged a handshake with Adam.

“It was no big deal. There were just quite a lot of them, so it took some time.”

“You only have the one carriage? And I can’t see the other soldiers outside of your driver.”

“I sent everyone back to the royal capital. They’ll need to appeal for information, and reinforcements, depending on the circumstances.”

“Reinforcements?...If you were able to repel the tribesmen then there’s no need for that, is there? Don’t do anything too dangerous. This is supposed to be a peaceful—”

“I won’t be turning my sword on any witch. This is incidental. I want to take the opportunity to make a decisive strike on the white army.”

Adam heaved a sigh.

“…I suppose that is the official job of a peacekeeping force. But don’t forget. Your responsibility is—”

“Guarding you, I know. Naturally I will accomplish that properly myself.”

“Alone?”

“Is that not enough?”

“…It’s enough. You’re dependable.”

“You could stand to be a bit cheerier. I did bring you back what you forgot.”

Packed in the luggage compartment of the automated carriage that the captain of the security forces, Gammon, had rode in on was the device that Adam and Seth had left behind on the plains.

Once more putting together the magic measuring device, Seth started to take note of Eve’s magical ability.

“Though this isn’t a standard instrument. Using it in itself is quite simple. Please just stand perfectly still right there.”

Seth turned the iron rod's prongs in Eve’s direction.

After a while the box that was attached by wire to the bundle of metal let out a “be-beep”. Seth set it down and started to examine the numbers displayed on the box’s screen.

When he did, his expression grew crestfallen.

“…Your M count is 72. And your other numbers are average. That means you’re only a little bit stronger in magic than the average person.

Adam stood next to Seth and peered at the data output device.

“You’re sure the device isn’t broken?”

“I could check…Hey, Gammon.” Seth did a reading of Gammon’s magical ability just as he had done with Eve. “…M count of 0. Alright! You are, without a doubt, ‘magically impotent’!”

“…”

While breaking out into something of a cold sweat as Gammon glared at him, Seth then measured the magic potential of Adam, and then the village chief.

“…Amazing. The village chief is 200, and Adam exceeds 300. If you two were women you’d most certainly be candidates for ‘Ma’—At any rate, I think the device is working correctly.”

Upon hearing that outcome, the village chief slowly stood before Adam.

“And now we’ve satisfied you that Eve is not this ‘Witch of the Forest’.”

“…At the very least we’ve established that she can’t be an ‘Ma’ candidate.”

“I see…That’s good then, Eve.”

Eve wondered if it really was.

Maybe she had just let a chance for her to become queen slip out from under her very nose.

Queen…huh.

It was an unbelievable honor for a citizen of Levianta to obtain that position.

But I doubt my father would let me become queen.

Eve knew quite well that he was a man who hated politics.

It was only because there was no one else who could fulfill the role of village chief that he had bitterly accepted the role.

I’ve had to work specifically because he rarely takes in any taxes.

She thought her father was a splendid man.

But that didn’t mean she had no complaints.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[inkandpen22]

Young Hearts Divided (10/?)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Female!Reader / James Potter x Female!Reader

Warnings: mild swearing 

Word Count: 1.6k

Part Summary: After Remus and Y/N have their heart-to-heart, something unexpected happens

Masterlist

"Y/N!" A third party shouts from the door below. 

Remus and I exchange glances of confusion at the sudden interruption. 

"Y/N!" The voice echoes again and this time I recognize it to be Sirius's. 

Swiftly, Remus and I rise from our positions to see what the fuss is about. Based on the urgent sound of Sirius's tone, I imagine this isn't him simply looking for me. 

Remus follows me down the spiral stairwell and I can hear the hurried pace of Sirius climbing them. We meet half-way and he wears a bewildered expression. He glances between Remus and me with confusion but doesn't make a remark as I excepted. Instead, he takes my hand starts to lead me down the stairs. 

"McGonagall came to the Common Room looking for you," he explains as we descend the tower to the door. "She wouldn't go into details other than that it has to do with your brother." 

Upon hearing Sirius's words, I don't hesitate to start sprinting out of the tower and down the hall. 

"Y/N!" Sirius and Remus call my name in unison. 

The boys struggle to keep up as I run full pace to McGongallas office as I'm sure that's where she's gone. My mind is racing with possibilities. Where is my brother? Is Danny okay? Who took him? Have they found him? 

Though it would be nearly impossible for me to not become tired after running from the Astronomy Tower to McGonagall's office on a normal day, currently I don't feel a thing. Remus and Sirius, however, are panting like dogs behind me when I enter her office. Sure enough, the professor is behind her desk with a fire going behind her. When she peers up and over her glasses from her grading, her face falters. 

"Miss Y/L/N, good. It appears Mr. Black was able to find you," she remarks satisfied as she rises from her chair. As she crosses the room, she raises her hand to gesture to the door. "You may wait outside gentlemen," McGonagall announces to Remus and Sirius. "Unless, of course, Miss Y/L/N prefers for you to stay?" 

All six eyes look to me for an answer and I become unintentionally short with them. "I don't really care who stays and who goes! All I want to know is the news about Danny!" 

Remus and Sirius flicker their wide-eyes to McGonagall, waiting for a response. Never in the history of Hogwarts has anyone ever spoken to McGonagall so rashly, maybe a Slytherin, but even then that's a long shot. 

I release a sigh and immediately feel apologetic. I didn't mean to snap at her, none of this is her fault. I'm just tired of the pointless dramatics and everyone looking to me for answers. Sometimes I simply want to answer 'I don't know!' 

"Very well," McGonagall replies calmly, despite my aggression. 

The woman presses her palm to my back and escorts me to sit in the chair across from her desk. She moves back to her seat and settles down. Remus and Sirius remain back by the door. Sirius leans against the wall with his arms crossed and Remus stands straight as though he's in a line-up. 

"Your brother, Miss Y/L/N, has been located," McGonagall reveals and a weight rises off my chest. 

My eyes fall shut as I lean back in my chair with a deep sigh of relief. At least we know where he is and thus we can do something now. Thank the universe he's alive. 

"But Miss Y/L/N, there's something else I must tell you," the woman speaks hesitantly. 

My eyes fly open and I stare at her sharply. Her tone worries me. The weight that disappeared has returned to me. She rubs her hands together in fists anxiously. I grip the handles of the chair to release some tension, but nothing seems to work. 

"What is it?" I press for her to continue. 

I hear footsteps behind me followed by a hand on my shoulder landing on my shoulder. I glance up and Sirius stands over me, his eyes locked on our professor. 

"What is it, Minnie?" Sirius repeats sternly, though I can see the worry hidden in his eyes. 

McGonagall frowns, clearly distraught, nearly sick to her stomach. When her eyes leave Sirius and land back on me, a chill shoots down my spine. This really isn't good. 

"He's dead, isn't he?" 

My tone comes out emotionless as though I'm asking a question in class and not something of this magnitude. I even surprise myself, along with everyone else in the room. I'm just so tired. I'm not sure I can take another blow. 

McGonagall shakes her head frantically. "No, no, I assure you Danny is alive and well. The concerning part is... Well... he wasn't taken." 

My brows scrunch together in confusion. "What do you mean?" 

"You see, your brother wasn't taken by the Death Eaters..." She drags out nervously. "He um... Well, we learned that he..." 

Comprehending what she's going to say, I start to shake my head repeatedly. "No, no, no," I stutter. 

Sirius moves forward to stand in front of me. "What?! What is it?" He glances between McGonagall and me. 

I rise from my seat and slowly start to the door as my eyes remain locked on the floor. She's lying! She has to be! Danny wouldn't, he could never be. Remus steps forward from the wall to help me toward the door. He presses his palm to my shoulder bland and lowers his head to my level to see my hidden face. Tears whelm up in my eyes and threaten to fall. It isn't true. It can't be true!

"Can someone please tell me what the bloody hell is going on?!" Sirius shouts. "Did I blackout and miss an entire minute of that conversation?!" 

"Shut up Sirius!" Remus huffs at his friend. "Come on Y/N, let's head back," he guides me gently. 

"Miss Y/L/N," McGonagall says my name pleadingly, completely ignoring Sirius. "You have to hear this, Dear! I have to make sure you understand the circumstances!" 

I whip my head around to face the woman I once considered as close to me as another motherly figure. Now... Now I don't know how to view her. The tears that threatened to fall do so freely down my cheeks. The expression on McGonagall's face is foreign to me. I've never seen her cry, but she may now. 

"My brother-" I hiss sharply through my teeth, "-is not a Death Eater. Anyone who calls him so is vile and I will gladly hex them to oblivion!" 

"Y/N!" Remus gasps quietly next to me. 

McGonagall stares me directly in the eye with parted lips of amazement. It's not every day a student threatens a professor. I would threaten Dumbledore himself if he were to cross my family. My parents raised me to care for all wizards and creatures. For someone to say that anyone in my family follows the Dark Lord is horrid. My brother could never do such a thing. He's my older brother, he loves me, wants what's best for me. He would never betray my family like that. 

"I think we should go," Sirius determines as he marches over to me. 

"Listen to reason, Y/N." McGonagall says my name calmly, dropping the formalities now considering the turn of events. 

"I assure you, I am," I bark disdainfully. "If you knew Danny as I do, you would know that this is nothing but wartime paranoia. He could never follow You-Know-Who!" 

"Let's go, Love," Sirius whispers to me, urging me out the door. 

Reluctantly, I follow their guidance down the stairs to the classroom. If I were alone, I would've blasted McGonagall to her fireplace mantel. 

"Keep walking," Sirius mutters in my ear. 

"He has the Dark Mark!" She shouts as the boys lead me away against my reluctance. 

Upon hearing her words, I turn over my shoulder and start back toward her office. Sirius's arms wrap around my waist and fling back into his chest. I fight him off and Remus moves to block my path. Well don’t these two have a nice little tag-team game going! 

"Y/N! Y/N, listen to me!"Remus repeats, cupping my face to force me to look at him. "Tune her out, okay! Everything will be okay! We’ll figure it out! You don't want to do anything rash!”

"You must know this, Y/N! For your own safety!" Our professor adds worriedly. 

"Remus if she keeps talking you're going to have to hold me back too," Sirius grunts as he struggles to drag me toward the corridor. 

"Believe me, I'm not too thrilled either and I usually side with the professors," Remus grumbles. "If you figured out what was going on sooner, maybe we could've gotten Y/N out of there!" 

"Oh yeah! Blame me for the chaos as per usual!" Sirius defends. 

"Usually it is you! 99% of the time," Remus scoffs. 

"Let me go!" I bark at Sirius, clawing at his forearms tight around my torso.

"Can't you do a spell to knock her out?!" Sirius speaks of me as if I'm not even here. "It's like trying to hold you back during a full moon!" 

I growl,"you pull out your wand Remus and I swear I’ll hex you!” 

Nervously, Remus switches his gaze between me and Sirius. I dig my nails into Sirius's arms to weaken his grip and the boy hisses. 

"Remus!" He barks. 

Remus sighs and looks to me apologetically. "I'm sorry, it's really for the best." 

"Remus I swear-" 

The boy removes his wand from his back pocket and makes a zig-zag formation with it. 

"Nighty-night, Love," Sirius mutters. 

In seconds, my vision goes black. 

_______________________________

Masterlist 

Tags:  @hannah220506 @agirlwholovescoffee @a-classic-eye @devilstradegy @blackbirddaredevil23 @tay-mariee @blackpinkdolan @findzela @emilianamason @missryerye @loonyslytherin

[lastluvbug]

Oh my god I read the one about Kalim’s suicide after waking up and got emotional all morning. The angst hurts but I can’t have enough of your writings. Can I have a continuation of it, with Kalim’s friends (the second years, the light music club, even Vil) after the whole thing? Like they try to go on with their life but it’s clear that nothing’s the same anymore and they miss the sunshine boy more than they thought they would? Thank you so much!

Toxins (Part 2)

Here we are, love! Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Language, referenced suicide

Crying wasn’t like Cater.

But after Kalim’s school-held funeral, that was all anyone could ever see him doing.

Oftentimes, it was silent sobbing into his hands, makeup streaked and runny, hiccups stifled. Comfort did little to provide solace, as he’d simply wipe away the water still leaking from his eyes, smile, and pretend like nothing ever happened. By the outside... it almost appeared as if nothing had ever happened. He was still as camera addicted as usual, still attended class and mingled with his fellow students.

The only difference was perhaps the breaks he had to take between every period, when he’d run to the bathroom to clear his eyes of the built up liquid they’d collected, or maybe it was the way his laughter felt dull, robotic even, or the way he began eating bigger and bigger portions at mealtimes. No one batted an eyelash at Cater when he had to be wrestled out of the mess hall by Trey, who already had himself busy with tending to a Riddle Rosehearts who’d become increasingly strict in upholding the Heartslabyul rules once again.

The serene noiselessness that enveloped the Music Room seemed all but soothing, a vacant memory filled with empty afterthoughts of what it used to be.

Sitting before Kalim’s abandoned drum set, Cater stared at his foggy reflection in the suspended cymbals, inept hands clutching drumsticks that should’ve been used to make a song. Eyes slitted, Cater cried once more, beads of translucent agony dripping onto the forgotten brass.

“...Cater? What are you doing here?”

The ginger looked up stiffly, the lights flicking into action as he made brief visual contact with the last remaining member of his club, Lilia Vanrouge. The shorter tilted his head slightly, standing at the foot of the door, as Cater exhaled a breathy laugh like he’d been so accustomed to doing. “Lilia... I just... needed some time alone, is all. Nothing to worry about.” He grinned, betraying the droplets that formed pretty trails over his visage.

“It’s... It’s about Kalim, isn’t it?” Lilia prodded, voice low as he stepped fully into the room. He didn’t require a reply, as Cater’s sagged shoulders and clutched drumsticks revealed everything he wanted to say. Solemnly hanging his head, Diasomnia’s vice lumbered over to his grieving peer, placing a gloved hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not fair...!” Cater wailed before Lilia had even touched him. “Kalim, he’s—he’s not here anymore, and it seems like I’m the only who cares! He was suffering, so much... and I didn’t... didn’t have the brain to see it!”

Lilia’s wide magenta orbs locked onto the weeping boy, whose blood red diamond had nearly been washed away thanks to the water pouring over it. Kneeling, he gripped his shoulders firmly, forcing Cater to meet his stare. “Cater, you can’t blame yourself for this. You couldn’t have known what he was feeling, none of us could. It’s a tragic thing, to have lost someone full of so much light, but you have to understand that—“

“...You don’t get it either... didn’t he mean anything to you people?!” Lilia froze midsentence, his hands pushed away harshly. “Why? Why am I the only one who cries over him?! I didn’t even know him that well... but I don’t want Kalim to be forgotten! I don’t want to wake up everyday, knowing he’ll never speak to me again! Never make music, with these stupid sticks!” He lamented, tossing said drumsticks away, the carved wood skidding across the hard flooring.

Draping his palms over his face, Cater sniffled, Lilia speechless on his knees. Huffing a petulant sigh, the ages-old student spoke quietly, as if afraid to shatter the glass he knew he treaded upon. “Cater, in all my years... I’ve seen my fair amount of demises.”

“H... Huh?” Cater stopped, makeup-blackened tears ceasing as well.

“I’ve had to watch friends, loved ones, even family, fall. Some by the hands of fate, and some by their very own. And thus, I’ve seen how humans react when it comes to such occurrences. You aren’t the only one who cries over the loss of Kalim, I guarantee it.”

“Th-That’s...” He trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut. “That’s not true! Riddle does nothing but hole himself away in his room and behead people anymore! You can’t call that coping!”

Lilia stared him in the eye, words frank and pithy. “Cater, tell me, what do you think he does behind those closed doors? Why do you think he’s become so sensitive to even the smallest of mistakes?”

“Because...! Because...” Cater caught himself, finding that he had no answer to retort with. “...I don’t... I don’t know.” He responded after a pause, holding his head in his hands.

“This is Riddle’s way of coping. Kalim was a dear classmate to him, and now, there’s no getting him back. He’s gone, we have to live with that truth.”

“Then what about you?! Why aren’t you reacting at all? Wasn’t he a dear clubmate to you?” Cater shot, voice thick with emotion as he felt the weight of Lilia’s authenticity asphyxiate him.

“Simply because I know that wherever Kalim is now, he’s happy,” he smiled softly, folding his hands in his lap, “I didn’t know that Kalim was suffering so, but now he’s cradled by the arms that come past death. He can finally rest easy, the way he was meant to in the first place.”

Cater looked down to Lilia, glassy eyes widening to see the glittery tears that pooled in the corners of the other’s, a soft smile at his lips. For a split moment, Cater could see no one but Kalim as Lilia opened his arms, amaranth streaked hair and magenta eyes shifting into pure white and candy red.

Hiccuping, Cater fell from the seat before the drums and onto his knees, being carefully pulled to Lilia’s smaller, yet wonderfully soft frame. Hit like a bag of bricks to the stomach, misery stole Cater’s oxygen as he sobbed, clinging to Lilia like a petrified animal.

“Don’t worry guys! We’ll do great at the performance tomorrow!”

“Keep it up, Cater! You sound amazing, just one more practice song!”

“Oh, a picture? I want in! Haha, cheese!”

Kalim’s childish voice echoed in the room, the ghost of a caress against his cheeks making the ginger bury himself under his peer’s chin. He felt as if he’d never forgive himself for overlooking Kalim’s pain, every heartfelt compliment or encouragement from him becoming bland and tasteless upon the realization that they were all empty words, meant to fill him up with false courage.

“Cater, he may be gone, but as long as he stays tucked in here,” Lilia tapped on his head, stroking his messy orange hair, “the magic will keep his memory alive. That’s perhaps the best gift we can give him; the guarantee that he won’t be forgotten. Not as long as you, and I, remember him, right?”

Cater inhaled a quivering breath, nodding as he parted from Lilia’s warm arms. “R-Right...” He nodded, using the back of his hands to clear away his streaked makeup, leaving a smudged mess instead.

“Let’s get you back to Heartslabyul. It sounds to me as if you could use a little conversation with your dorm leader.” Lilia prompted, standing and offering his hand, to which Cater accepted.

“If I must... oh! I need to get those first!” He cried, spinning on his heel and traipsing over to the discarded drumsticks. “I’ll keep them safe for him.” He grinned, earning a sly smirk from Lilia, who now stood outside of the club room.

Joining him, Cater sent a glance over the lone drum set, replaying the times from when Kalim would lean over them with a smile, waving as he entered, guitar strapped across his back. It didn’t hurt any less, but it reminded him that somewhere out there, Kalim was waiting for him, for that day when he’d return his drumsticks.

Switching the lights off, Cater shut the door cautiously, heart simultaneously lifted and sinking as he left, those invisible hands drifting away as he strode farther from the Music Room.

<————>

Treading down the busy hallway felt more like wading through swamp water to Silver, each student seeming to obstruct his path in any way they could.

Heading by the open walled courtyard, the grey haired Diasomnia boy’s gaze softened, looking to the vacant blue sky holding the warm sun as it’s only attraction. Running a finger over the rim of his grasped textbook, Silver sighed out of a brew containing both frustration and awe, feet instinctively guiding him about the corridors as his mind wandered elsewhere.

Every single waking day had been the shining example of a picture perfect storytelling, like something that had hopped from the pages of a fairytale since Kalim’s overcrowded funeral. No rain, no clouds, just the pure sky and the giggling sun.

Silver had half of a mind to call it unfair, for a tragedy to be celebrated and honored with such weather. Though, he had to admit he didn’t know Kalim as well as he wished. The boy had waltzed into and out of his life with alarming ease, both of them sharing the same class together and bonding over their blatantly oppositional personalities. If it weren’t for Kalim’s persistence, Silver probably wouldn’t have even remembered his name, let alone dig himself deep enough to call him a friend.

After his passing, Silver’s academic world just went... dull, following the same drearily tedious routine, and beginning to fall behind in even the most basic of lessons, simply because he found it impossible to keep himself awake for more than five minutes at a time.

Kalim had been the one to help him in class, had been the one to discover how to shake him to consciousness, both physically and mentally. Whenever Kalim was around, Silver wanted to skip his unhealthily long naps, painstakingly addicted to the boy’s light that practically radiated from him, filling any room he set foot in with warm magic.

Now that he laid still, taken by the hand of never ending slumber, Silver felt blank, like he was caged in the perpetual state of an emotional reset that declined progression.

So lost sorting through his muddled mind, Silver nearly fell backwards as he slammed headfirst into something firm, making his eyes water as he rubbed the liquid away, a yawn escaping his throat. “Hah? What’s this?” Growled a scratchy voice, making Silver snap to attention. He came face to face with a brawny Savanclaw lackey, a freakish two heads taller than Silver, the student nearly shrinking into a ball at the murderous glare sent down his direction. “Ah, it’s one of those Diasomnia pricks. What, beating us to a pulp in Magift and trampling over our test scores isn’t enough? Now you gotta own the whole damn hallway?”

“H-Hey, I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about... If I could just—“ Silver attempted to reason, trying to get past the wall of muscled students, all bigger and stronger than him.

“You wanna play dumb now?” The other rasped, grabbing Silver by the collar of his uniform and lifting him in the air as he stalked dangerously close. “Listen here, bastard, just because my dorm leader tucks his tail at the sight of you doesn’t mean I’ll do the same! I have no idea who you think you are, but to me, you’re no better than baby cats who yip—“

“Alrighty fellas, that’s quite enough!”

Twisting with what little leeway available to him, Silver found the source of the voice to be Ruggie Bucchi, another member of the beastly dorm. “Ruggie? The hell do you think you’re doing?” The bigger boy barked, tightening his grip on Silver.

Crossing his arms and smiling slyly, Ruggie marched over to him, not an ounce of fear on his baby-face. “Look at him, bud. The poor guy’s practically shaking in his shoes! I think you’ve done enough to scare him, so put him down, you’re tarnishing the Savanaclaw name.”

“Enough? He ran into me! If I don’t threaten him now, then who’s gonna put him in his place later?!”

Ruggie clucked his tongue, floppy ears twitching in annoyance. “Let’s get one thing straight here; you weren’t threatening him, you were aggressively complaining. First, comparing him to a baby cat, which by the way, would be called a kitten, is neither intimidating nor masculine. Second, dangling him in the air like a doll proves nothing more than what you lack in brain, you make up for in brawn, hence why you’re practically a brick wall of muscle. Third, if you’re going to threaten someone, do it properly, you brutish simpleton.” Ruggie smirked, standing on his tip toes as he narrowed his eyes.

“Now, I suggest you tuck tail and scram before you show everyone here that you’re as composed as a bitch in heat.” He threatened, hands on his hips as the animalistic boy’s ears drooped, heeding the maliciously ingenious hyena and dropping Silver, who was close to choking thanks to the constricting pressure on his throat. Legs too weak to stabilize his body, he collapsed in a heap on the ground, textbook flying a few feet away, hacking his lungs out while trying to drink the sweetly refreshing air.

After the roughly uncivilized students scampered off, whispering curses and profanity Ruggie scoffed at, he huffed, bouncing over to Silver and extending a single gloved hand. “Um... you okay? They didn’t hurt you, right?” He asked.

Spluttering into his elbow, Silver took the hand, brushing the dust off of his black school suit and suppressing the yawn that fought to rise in his newly released esophagus. “...I’m fine. Thanks for the save...” He bowed awkwardly, avoiding the shorter’s stare. Without anything left to say, he stood turning away. “See you.” He sluggishly bid, starting to leave.

Ruggie was inches away from letting him go, until he tossed his glance to the floor, noticing the thick book fallen face first a few steps from him. Scooping it up, he flipped through a few of the pages, hoping to find something interestingly personal before returning it to the original owner. What he found was... beyond what he’d imagined.

It was a history textbook, the very first page carrying Silver’s signature, a cursive so intricate, it bordered calligraphy with all of its whorls and intercepting lines. At a glance, it didn’t look anything worthwhile, a few scribbled notes here and there but nothing out of the ordinary. Secrets weren’t revealed until Ruggie flipped to the center of the book, his normally neutral face contorting out of shock and intrigue.

The writing on the edges of the paper, where the fine print of knowledge past left indents and gaps of white space lay, were little notes penned in two vastly different handwritings, one quite obviously belonging to Silver. The other was unrecognizable to Ruggie, but reading the script was what led to him the creator.

“Silver-kun, Silver-kuuuuun! Did you hear what Trein said? I was too busy doodling!!”

“Kalim, you’re going to fail the class if you keep nodding off, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know I know..... but at least I stay awake most of the time!”

“Pssh, so mean, using that against me! Sit with me at lunch today, and maybe I’ll share my notes.”

“Oh! Alright, Silver!”

Ruggie was blown away by the authored conversation he stumbled upon, reminded of the distance growing between owner and eavesdropper as he sent a startled look up from the book. “H-Hey! Silver!” He called, having learned the sleepy Diasomnia student’s name.

The other paused, looking over his shoulder to watch as Ruggie weaved through the river of people, holding out the textbook once he’d managed to stand beside the grey haired. “You dropped this back there... it is yours, isn’t it?” He asked, feigning an ignorance Silver doubted.

“Yes, thank you very much. But... how did you know my name?”

“Eh, you’re from Diasomnia. I bet the whole corridor of people here know your name.” Ruggie waved, almost sweat dropping.

“...If you say so. Thank you for returning my book... I’ll be out of your hair now.” The other sighed, tucking said book under his arm while wearing an expression that simply felt subdued.

“Ah—wait! I’m pretty sure you’re a second year, can I walk you to class? Wouldn’t want to run into someone again, right?” Ruggie wasn’t given a verbal response, only a hitch in Silver’s movements and a mild nod.

With his arms fanned out from his head, Ruggie walked alongside the enigmatic teen, who remained eerily silent, his hazy eyes and apathetic stare giving him the hint that he was lost deep in thought, a thought that must’ve been distasteful. All too altruistically eager to break the silence, Ruggie brought up thr only topic that seemed to occupy anyone’s mind. “So... you were friends with Kalim?”

Silver flinched, directly halting in his tracks, eyes hidden by his overgrown bangs. “W-What... What did you know about him?” He asked, the flow of students never once ceasing around them.

“I... well, other than the fact that he was rich... not much.” Ruggie admitted, fiddling with an ear.

“That’s it? That’s all you knew about him, even as a second year yourself?”

“Wait, how did you—?”

“He talked about you like you were some kind of idol. He talked about everyone that way.” Silver whispered, eyes still hidden. “He was what everyone wanted to be, the only real person here who didn’t carry any ill intentions for anyone. Even that Viper, who used him for what? Years?” He continued, hands clutching the fabric of his shirt.

Ruggie had nothing to say. What could he say? Kalim, to him at least, was a fun acquaintance, a buddy he’d occasionally fall back on for spare change or home cooked meals, of which were made by Jamil Viper, the Viper that Silver was quite obviously placing the entirety of the blame upon.

While drama wasn’t something Ruggie was aiming to stir up, the hyena had to admit... he didn’t find anything Jamil did to be wrong. Kalim had ideas, grand as they may be, but he hadn’t the skill or the focus to execute them, pushing the work onto Jamil and Jamil alone. Ruggie saw no problem with the vice using his talent the way he did.

“I wonder how he feels now... knowing that he’s the one who drove Kalim to such measures. But... I can’t say I’m any better. How could I have been so ignorant...? I may as well have damned him to death too, watching him deteriorate every day. Watching him... fake that cheery smile, and never doing a thing about it.” Silver seemed to be working himself into a craze, hands covering his ears as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Hey, don’t take this on yourself y’know...”

“Why not? Tell me Ruggie, why. Not? My ignorance is what killed him, and now, I have to sit through class after class after class of reminders. Reminders of how I failed my duty to—“

“Geez, you’re annoying,”

“H... Huh?” Silver froze, finally opening his eyes to meet Ruggie’s cheeky grin.

Ruggie offered no explanation as he grabbed a hand, dragging him off through the hallway. “I may not be the best at comforting, and I’m certainly no Kalim, but... I think it’ll be okay. That’s what he liked to say, right? Yeah, he’s not here anymore, but are you really going to let what he believed in die?”

Struck speechless similarly to his rockstar guardian, Silver gaped like a fish out of water, silently allowing Ruggie to pull him along. “He knew there was good in everyone,” Except himself, Ruggie thought, but had the brain to hold his tongue, “he’d want you to move on, to love in his place. This, what you’re feeling now, is the farthest thing from what he wanted. So... you should smile. You can live without Kalim, you’re stronger than that.”

Ruggie stopped, a few steps away from Silver’s designated classroom, holding his clutched hand up as he spoke, smiling gently, like he actually believed the speech he by chance strung together. Still, any excuse for a better hope was a good one to Silver, so, he ducked his head, forcing out giggles that after a minute, ended up too real. “U-Uh... did I say something funny?” Ruggie stammered, eyes wide in confusion.

“No, it’s just—“ Silver let go of Ruggie, lavender eyes shiny with the aftermath of laughter, “—you remind me of him.”

Ruggie flushed, turning red to his ears as he spun away, covering his mouth and pretending to cough. “Y-Yeah, sure, whatever. Come on, let’s get you to class!”

Chuckling, Silver sped up to close the rapidly growing space between them, running a clammy hand through his argent hair. In complete honesty, he meant what he’d said.

Albeit too assiduous and orderly to be a carbon copy, Ruggie held one same trait that so painfully reminded him of Kalim; his confidence. While Kalim was a leader, Ruggie preferred to follow. While Kalim was extravagantly grandiose, Ruggie was self-effacing and simple. While Kalim had dreams of far off lands and magic carpet rides, Ruggie stayed firmly planted on the ground.

But for certain, the one thing they both shared the same substantial confidence to just... be themselves.

And it was that confidence that made Silver wish to cling to Ruggie, protect the light that he failed to do before.

“Oi! Silver! You coming?” Ruggie called hands on his knees as he waved from further down the hall.

“Hm? Oh, yes, yes I’m coming!” Silver smile back, having realized he stood alone in the middle of the passage. Once again dashing to join the hyena, Silver made a vow, a vow that no one would hear other than himself.

“I promise Kalim, I’m not forgetting you. I’ll never forget you. But this time... this time I want to do things right.”

<————>

The rushing of water from the tap was the sole sound in the Mostro Lounge, accentuated only by the brisk chill that followed the lifeless restaurant-esque space.

It’d been that way since morning, the hollow flooring catching the footsteps that walked over it and tossing the sound against the walls, creating an echo Floyd Leech didn’t think was possible, what with the amount of furniture and decor lined about. Switching off the water, and the only audible commotion in the lounge, he tossed himself onto a stool before the polished bar, setting his hat aside as he laid his head within his large, white gloved hands. A sigh escaped him as he threaded his fingers through his deep teal hair, almost feeling as though he was glued to his seat.

Despite the deafening quiet that would blow any normal person’s eardrums out, Floyd closed his eyes, heavy from premature exhaustion, and heard not the empty silence, but instead voices. More specifically, he heard Kalim’s voice; his cheering, the laughs and giggles that seemed reserved for Floyd and Floyd exclusively, even his sobs after he was thrown across the desert by one of his trusted companions.

Swimming through the sea of his memories made his eyes burn with an indescribable solemnity, his hands tugging rather roughly at his hair as the memories grew into a thousand pictures behind his shut eyelids, each of them painting Kalim an angel in all of his bubbly optimism. And while Floyd was naturally agile in water, even he found himself drowning in the sorrow that replaced a past stemmed from charm and delight.

Broken like a hammer through glass, he was all but ripped from the isolation of his over imaginative brain by the doors of the Lounge being thrown open, the conversation of the two welcoming themselves in drifting over to his sensitive ears. He paid them no heed as he slumped on the bar counter, inexplicably cold while heartache whittled away at his chest.

“Ah, Floyd. Jade and I were just discussing, and there’s been an alarming drop in the amount of customers attending— Floyd?” Azul faltered, cutting his debriefing short as he noticed the state of the lithe eel.

Hunched over, head collected in his hands as he carded his fingers through his hair, Floyd looked the model of a kicked puppy, not a trace of his carefree smile on his lips. Beyond confused, Azul turned to Jade, who simply folded his hands and smiled politely, mincing over to his brother.

Jade didn’t need to do too much investigation to find the source of Floyd’s troubles, already knowing full well that the reverse of his brother’s attitude was a byproduct of Kalim Al-Asim’s death. The funeral was what sealed the transformation, Floyd’s laugh disappearing altogether as he turned away from the outside world, whether he was aware of it or not. Most days, he tucked himself away in the Mostro Lounge, polishing the same glass until in could be used as a mirror, or staring blankly into the distance, becoming especially clingy to both Jade and Azul. Any prodding was met with a lackluster response, any attempts to push him towards re-venturing back into the convoluted world of society with dejected refusals.

Sitting in the stool beside the mourning boy, Jade reached out, settling his hand on Floyd’s back as the other jumped at the touch. “Floyd?” He asked, earning his brother’s familiar glazed attention.

“Jade...? Oh, Azul, too... I’m sorry, did I do something wrong~? You guys look like you’ve seen a ghost...” He laughed unimpressively, placid smile not quite reaching his dual colored eyes.

“Floyd, please explain what is troubling you. I hate seeing my brother this way.” Jade pleaded, leaning on a fist as he expectantly stared at him.

“E-Eh? Where’d you guys get that idea from? Hehe, I’m alright, Azul, Jade.”

“No, Floyd, you’re not. As your colleague and friend, I ask that you indulge us on your turmoil.” Azul chimed in at Floyd’s nonchalant display, years of memorizing his roller coaster-like moods revealing the cracks in his façade.

Drooping defeatedly, his smile vanished as he fell onto the counter, tracing imaginary shapes into the smooth marble. “I... I miss him...” Floyd whispered, only audible because of the noiselessness.

Jade perked up, sharing a pitiful look with Azul before rubbing circles onto Floyd’s back. “You’re referring to Kalim, correct?”

The other nodded, sighing heavily as he hazed blankly at the positively reflective surface below him. “It’s—I just can’t... wrap my head around the fact that he’s gone... Sea Otter is gone, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.” He said quietly, the sting in his eyes returning as he swallowed thickly.

Azul tipped his hat as Jade’s circles ceased. The passing of Kalim hadn’t particularly affected Azul, as ashamed as he was to admit it. It, at the very least, was supposed to attract more customers, in need of a distraction in the form of fine food and drinks. But for Floyd to have lost his spark... the cogs in Azul’s brain couldn’t comprehend how the two had even managed to become close after Jamil’s overblot.

“I remember,” Floyd started, sliding a thin finger over the edge of the counter, “how he used to laugh at everything. Sea Otter was so energetic~! Always bouncing to and fro, like a hyper little siren. When did... when did that all stop? Why did it all stop? Is it a curse from land-dwellers to feel this way...?” Floyd asked his friends, seeking genuine answers to his inquiries.

“Floyd, what you are feeling is grief. You are mourning over the loss of a... a comrade.” Jade hesitated, speech for once unrehearsed.

“But he was more than a comrade to me, Jade! I didn’t feel so... out of place with Kalim. He embraced the world around him, in all of it’s cruelty, with open arms. I don’t get it! He—he... he...!” Floyd wavered, hand reaching up to prod at his gold eye, which now spilled thin water over the rim of his cheekbones.

He was... crying? Why was he crying? Wasn’t that something said to be impossible for merfolk to accomplish?

“Hey, Azul... what’s this?” He asked with a joyless laugh. “Am I melting...?” He smiled bitterly, the current dribbling down in an irritatingly slow pace.

Not half a second was given to Floyd before he was enveloped by two arms, in all of their lissome strength. Azul couldn’t think of another thing to do; he’d never seen him genuinely cry before. “No, you’re not melting, Floyd.” The hug was stiff, the tallest eel’s hands on the edge of his seat while water scattered about.

“I’m scared, Azul...” he whined, sniffling. Jade flinched, the downright hopelessness of Floyd’s tone striking a place in his heart that nearly brought him to tears as well. “I can’t—I can’t lose you two. I can’t. Please, promise you won’t leave me, like Sea Otter did?” The very thought of being alone was enough to bring Floyd to trembles, was enough for him to toss away his pride as he looked to his brother, his friend.

Moving as swiftly as the flowing waters of the sea, Jade lifted himself from his seat, twining his arms around both Azul and Floyd, most of the focus turned towards the latter. “Don’t be ridiculous. As your brother, it is my responsibility to always be by your side. Always. The death of a friend doesn’t change that, nor will anything else.” Jade soothed, pressing his forehead to Floyd’s.

“Ah, Jade is right. While I may not share familial ties, I believe it is my duty to stay with you two. After all, who else would have the impertinence to stand up to your spontaneity, Floyd? Certainly no one from around here, I’ll say that much.” Azul added, earning a chuckle from the comforted.

“So... it’s a promise then? You won’t leave me?”

“Never,” Jade and Azul replied confidently, successfully sealing off the last of Floyd’s tears as he used his gloves to soak up the excess.

Finally returning the hug with ten times the force, Floyd sighed out of relief. Though, he still felt the incomparable pang of gloom over the loss of one of his companions, the twang was cushioned by the soft words of his near-family, their eager reminder that even if their world was changing, they’d have one another to rely on.

Nothing could replace a life, Floyd knew that eerily too well, but that doesn’t mean that he couldn’t move on. It might take a week, it might take a year, but as long as he still had them to guide him, then maybe the pain would ebb away in a matter of months.

With their promise written across the slate of his heart, Floyd let his laughter splash across the lounge.

Some part of him felt that if Kalim could see him, hear him right now, he’d been laughing too.

<————>

“Roi de Poison, may I come in?”

“Door’s unlocked, Rook.”

Granted access by the curt invitation, Rook welcomed himself into Vil’s room, having returned from yet another rowdy wrangling session of dealing with Epel. The blonde was expecting to see his dorm leader fussing over his presentation, either in the form of reestablishing his blade sharp cosmetics, or redoing his naturally flawless locks. Instead, he was met with a scene that broke his fully enchanted heart, the magical symphony in his ears screeching to a halt.

Vil sat at his elegantly carved vanity, a thick book with yellowed pages flipped to somewhere close to the center spread before him, twisting an equally as golden bottle in his hand while the other tousled his loose hair, free of it’s usual braided crown. What perhaps made Rook double-take the most was the all natural look Vil wore, the tips of his nose and ears dyed an unhealthy red as not a smear of makeup hid the semi-wet trails reflected in the spotless mirror.

“Vil? Fairest, what ever is the matter?” Rook inquired hastily, skidding over to the beauty’s side and kneeling before him, feathered hat temporarily set on the floor while his head of canary hair still rose beyond the edge of the vanity table. “Vil...?”

“Do you know... what this is, Rook?” Vil asked out of the blue, holding the golden vial to the light.

“...If I had to guess, I’d say that would be an antidote.” Rook responded, having studied nearly as hard as Vil on the subject of poisons and cures.

“Correct. This... This is the antidote that could’ve saved him. I could’ve saved him.” Rook could taste the burn of Vil’s self doubt, the blame he took upon his shoulders as he desperately tried to look into Vil’s lavender irises.

“Non, Vil. It’s been said before, and I’ll not stutter when I say it again. You cannot control anyone but yourself. What Kalim did was of his own volition, you could not have done a thing to prevent it.”

“Do not lie to me, Rook Hunt!” Vil shrieked, rattling the table after he slammed his fist onto it. “If it weren’t for the poison I handcrafted, Kalim would be alive right now! If I would’ve chased after him the minute I realized the bottle was missing, then maybe—no, he would not have had the opportunity to use it! It’s my fault this happened, and now the blood’s on my hands!” Vil shrilled, delicate hands concealing his face.

Struggling to create a refute, Rook placed his hat back onto his head, standing to his full height. Circling behind Vil, he stared into the mirror, at the broken beauty who wallowed in the depths of his own despair before him. He loathed seeing Vil in such a state, poise and elegance replaced with a fiery fury aimed at no one but himself. He couldn’t bear to see him tear himself down.

Exhaling quietly, Rook laid his gloved hands over Vil’s, gently prying them away. Picking up a brush, he let it hover above his mauve-and-platinum hair, only setting it down on his scalp when Vil nodded ever so marginally. “Vil, my king, the fairest of us all, it pains me to no end to see you like this. Do you realize how dishonest it is to harbor this blame?” Rook rhetorically asked, noting the way his green orbs locked with purple for a split moment.

Brushing through the last section of Vil’s thin hair, he set the brush aside, peeling off his gloves to instead grab a comb, folding and looping the strands as he continued to speak. “What Kalim did was out of your jurisdiction. Yes, you may have made the poison, but he was the thief who stole it. Yes, you were too late to have realized it was missing, but had you sent me after him, he would’ve drank it before I could save him.” Rook assured, sealing off the crown and moving onto the next area in need of his expertise.

Lifting Vil’s chin with a curled finger, Rook brought a new besom to his eyes, painting on a deep violet shadow over the lashes, of which he diligently extended with top of the line mascara. Having someone else so casually apply his cosmetics made Vil’s shoulders sag as they released their tension, almost leaning into the affectionate sweeps were it not for his budding insecurity.

“How can you say that when it’s quite obviously my fault?” Vil murmured once his vice paused to reach for a shimmery lipgloss.

“Don’t you see? Kalim would’ve found a way to end his life with, or without your assistance. You were just naive enough to fall for his game, and thus, you now hold within you a guilt that doesn’t belong. Mon ange, let this grief go.” Rook finished, capping the gloss and smiling broadly, waving towards the mirror.

Turning to his reflection, Vil did nothing to hide the satisfied grin that formed, appreciative of the effort the blonde-haired hunter was investing to comfort him. “What if... deep down, I still blame myself, at the end of the day?” He asked, twirling a section of his hair around his painted nail.

“Fret not! I shall sing you lullabies until you can rest soundly at night. This tragedy will be a memory far faded after I’m done!” Rook sang, offering a hand as he bowed.

“Alright, Rook...” Vil chuckled, taking his hand and squaring his shoulders as he stood, balancing on his thin heels. “...I hope you will make use of that promise.”

“Anything for you, Vil. Now let us depart for supper, the dorm was ordered to keep their paws to themselves until you arrived.” Rook urged, spinning over to the door. Swinging it open, he gestured out to the hall, smiling. “Shall we?”

“Indeed. Let’s go.” Vil nodded, clicking out as Rook followed close behind.

Kalim still weighed on his mind, the boy’s peacefully shut eyes as he laid in that glass casket forever an image burned into his brain. He made a dire mistake that day, leaving the poison unguarded in his bathroom, even just creating it in the first place, but Rook helped Vil realize a truth that eased the sting, if only lightly.

He hadn’t known Kalim well, the first full conversation between them only occurring the day of his demise. Part of Vil found solace in the fact that Kalim’s death was quick, a brighter alternative to anything else Kalim would’ve attempted. The other part wept for what his knowledge of poison brought, the pain he’d inflicted on not only Kalim, but the rest of the school in tandem.

Still, holding his head high, Vil wasn’t going to let the suffering crumble him. Antidote clenched in a fist, Vil dropped it in his concealed pocket, the vision of elegance and poise.

Though he may have had a hand in Kalim’s downfall, he wasn’t going to let himself make a foolish mistake like that again.

<————>

Kalim Al-Asim’s death did not come in an ear piercing bang or an uproarious festival. It came not in sweet whispered nothings or love brimmed words. It came not as peaceful or soothing, but by preference spotlighted with nothing except a dark room, a clear night, and the whitest moon the sky had to offer.

Time had been at fowl play, some days passing within the sound snap of a finger, and some lasting for aeons painted in dull colors of anguish and shame. The people were mortified by the discovery, even more so to find that the act hadn’t been committed by the sinful nature of another, but instead the self destructive hatred of himself. Blame had been a projectile, shot into anyone who even held his name inside the confines of their brain, running amongst them like a smooth stone over a pond of ice until there was no one left to terrorize.

The wayward mechanism of coping bore down on everyone, weighing them with ten thousand pounds of a hopelessness they could neither hide nor run from. At their darkest hour, the entire venerated school of Night Raven College was brought to their knees by the passing of optimism personified, their trust a fractured knife used to stab skepticism and condemnation into the hearts of anyone who dared raise their bowed heads.

But even the dark of night must soon come to an end, the sun of a new day bringing a dusk painted in the hues of resumption over a horizon of black. It started with an idea, a finicky thought that grew until it could no longer be held within the sole mind of the creator, escaping from a pair of lips upturned in a rare smile that shortly spread to the listeners.

The idea spread like a contagion, from one to another, dorm to dorm, student to teacher, until every person shared the unison objective, some setting upon a laborious work to meet the desired outcome. Tirelessly, the students used the extents lf the gifts bestowed upon them, whether that be the farthest reaches of magic, or the unique skill to create banquets of delectable food.

It was far from a single day job, many returning to their rooms with sore muscles and blistered hands, the only thing driving them through their hard hours being the vision of the payoff come the conclusion. The prize of their exertion was a spectacle even a stranger would find extraordinarily echanted.

On a pedestal above the normal person’s head, crafted from the best brass up for the taking, stood a perfect recreation of Kalim Al-Asim, each detail scrutinized by the expecting eyes of none other than the mourning Jamil Viper.

Though he took it upon himself to mold the finer minutiae, he accepted every numerous offer of assistance with the bulky creation of the base, sending out handwritten thanks to each participant. Using too many sleepless nights, Jamil poured his strength, his breath, his heart into smoothing out the edges, refining the statue until it looked so real, he wouldn’t have been surprised if it up and moved.

The unveiling had been as palatial as Kalim would’ve wanted it to be; Jamil planning and throwing a celebration that welcomed nearly every resident of the campus, brandishing and explaining the statue in a way that made even Mozus Trein’s heart of steel melt.

Still... standing before it felt surreal, almost sorrowful. Dressed in his dorm garb and clutching his signature staff in his left arm, he waved out to the Scarabia he protected with his free one, a broad smile swelling his cheeks, eyes wide and curious. It had been the students’ choice to place him at the entrance of their dorm, believing Kalim’s face a fitting first sight upon entrance.

Drenched with gold in the early morning light, he smiled angelically as a lone figure knelt before the pedestal, hand tracing over the plaque carved into the stone base.

“I hope... I hope this did you justice. It was all I could give you for now; I know it’s not much, but this way, your legacy will carry on.” Jamil whispered, laying his forehead on the smooth metal.

Though he may not live to see it, Jamil wished with the very power of his soul that Kalim’s statue would last a lifetime, perhaps even longer as he stood and left, the words engraved finally visible:

He who breathed laughter,

He who stood proud,

He who was strong as the current of the ocean.

In fond memory of Kalim Al-Asim, the light in a world of shadow.

May we all discover the same strength he held.

Oki dokes! I didn’t originally plan for a continuation, so it took a little long bit to spark my ideas.

Regardless, I hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading! Special thanks to @lionheartanotheraccount for the request!!

Stay lovely!

[kafka-ish]

stanley’s sister has got it going on | r.t.

richie’s got a crush and he’s got it bad. the only thing that’s keeping him from the girl he’s been chasing is his best friend—her brother.

word count: 4,665

warnings/included: nsfw (not explicit), fluff, swearing, fem!reader

a/n: as i was rereading this i realized that this is the dirtiest thing i’ve ever written??? (so far). in comparison to other works it’s probably vv vanilla so pls bear with me

-

In the defense of Richie Tozier, it wasn’t his fault he ended up catching feelings for Stanley Uris’s little sister. There were a lot of things he couldn’t control. Like when his mouth opened and out came a poorly done impression of his chemistry teacher. (Which just so happened to have been done as Mr. Ford was standing behind the boy). 

Richie may as well just start a list of things he can’t help, marking y/n Uris down as number thirty-three. 

“Hey, Richie!” Well, well, well, if it wasn’t the person Richie had been most desperately trying to avoid. “Are you going to Stan’s tonight?” y/n asked. She was standing outside of his car door while he was in the driver’s seat, flicking through the radio stations, trying to find a good song for the ride home. 

Upon hearing the voice, Richie stopped fidgeting with the knob. It was honestly hopeless trying to find a good song at this point. None of the good stuff comes on until later. He turned his head to meet eyes with the accompanying voice from outside his car.

Bad idea. 

Of course, y/n chose to wear a tank top and the shortest skirt possible that day. Hell, any day he’d find his thoughts lost in her. Whether she was wearing a bikini at the quarry or in an oversized t-shirt and checkered pajama pants. 

“Earth to Richie?” y/n laughed. She waved her hand in front of his face, trying to capture his attention. Little did she know, that wasn’t necessary. 

“Actually, I was thinking about being a no-show today. I’ve been neglecting my training.” 

“Oh! You train? Which gym?” She was grinning wide and her gaze burned a hole through his heart. 

“The arcade. I gotta keep my skills fresh if I ever wanna keep that high score.” y/n rolled her eyes, but his comment still made her laugh. 

“Well, can you take me home? Once you drop me off I promise you can have all the time in the world to work on your skills.” Emphasis on ‘skills’. 

“Promise, eh?” Richie repeated, giving the girl a hard time. “Did Stan forget how to drive?” 

“No…” The ‘o’ part was drawn out. “He has his bird watching club today and I don’t feel like sitting in the sun for an hour while I wait for him.” 

Richie smiled to himself, thinking for a moment. On one hand, he shouldn’t be alone with the sister of one of his best friends’, as he had different intentions. On the other hand, he couldn’t just leave his best friend’s sister hanging like that. In hindsight, he had come to the conclusion that there was a possibility of Stan getting mad at him either way. 

Taking Stan’s sister home it was. 

“What are you waiting for, y/n/n, get in.” Richie finally made his decision. 

y/n cheered happily, thanking him, as she rounded his car and opened the door to the passenger’s seat. 

“You have no idea how happy this makes me!” y/n smiled, her expression reaching ear to ear. 

“Oh yeah. I bet you’re over the moon about getting a ride from your brother’s best friend in some beat up chevy.” Richie tried his best to distance himself. He really did. But he couldn’t help but notice y/n’s figure in the tight-fitting clothes, especially when she sat in such a close proximity to him. 

“I don’t think you get it, Tozier.” y/n hummed as she started turning the knob on the dash, finally settling on some rock station. She lowered the volume so they could still talk without yelling over the atmosphere. “We never hang out.” 

“We’re hangin’ out right now,” Richie argued, daring to look away from the road for one millisecond just so he could steal a glance at her. 

“Yeah, but… You hang out with Bill, Eddie, and Stan, and stuff.” She sounded disappointed. 

“I guess it’s different with them.” Richie shrugged. It was different with them. Bill, Eddie, Stan, Ben, and Beverly even, had their group together. They had the same classes together. They faced off a killer clown together. 

“I get that you guys have your own friend group and stuff.” y/n said quickly, not wanting to sound lonely or weird from her previous statement. “But we’re friends. Aren’t we?” She said this with an unsureness in her voice that Richie didn’t know how to reply to. 

I should’ve just left her at school. What’s so bad about waiting in the sun while Stan’s off watching some stupid birds? I guess it is kind of hot out. But a little heat won’t hurt anyone, right? Besides, she’s wearing a tank top. 

Richie peered over at y/n who was looking out the window as her head leaned against it. 

A white, lacy tank top that makes her skin look even more—

“Richie?” Concern washed over the girl’s eyes. Her attention turned to him instead of the scenery that passed by them. 

Richie whipped his head away from her body and stared blankly at the road. It was almost as if he were a ghost. Except he actually had color in his face. 

“What is it, y/n/n?” Richie’s eyes were still on the road. 

“I asked if we were friends.” The girl giggled, not being able to take anything seriously for longer than five minutes. “But that’s a stupid question.” She looked down and began to pick at her nails. 

“Of course we’re friends.” Richie insisted. The only problem is that I want more and your brother would kill me. 

Something inside of y/n calmed at the affirmation. “So we should hang out.”

“Already told ya, y/n/n. I got a date with destiny today.” 

“I don’t mind being the third wheel.” 

To be frank, that was the last thing Richie needed. It was bad enough that middle schoolers would wait lined up behind him, watching as he lost at some silly arcade game that he still had a passion for. He didn’t need some hot girl hanging over his shoulder while he did so, too. But Richie’s mouth had betrayed his thoughts. 

“Only if you want to, y/n/n.” He had avoided trying to call y/n anything other than her name or her nickname. He wouldn’t allow himself to call her any of the cutesy trademark pet names he’d call other girls that he would shamelessly flirt with for fun. He started implementing this tactic in sophomore year once he really started to notice her. 

At first, it was the way she greeted him every time the losers met up at Stan’s house. Maybe he was crazy, but he swore she gave him special attention: always running up towards him when she saw him, her lingering by his side before Stan yelled at her, asking if she had anything better to do. Her smile was seemingly wider and her eyes brighter whenever she held conversations with him compared to the other losers—or maybe that was just Richie looking into things too much. 

Due to drama and false rumors, y/n had started hanging out with the losers more this year. It was an attempt for her to take her mind off of the absence of friends on her part. None of the losers seemed to mind, even Stan. Thus, she became a regular when the group went on swimming trips to the quarry or slept over at each other’s houses. This didn’t really help Richie’s case. Now, he was basically forced to see her figure in a swimsuit and in every other setting imaginable. Not to mention, he couldn’t do anything about it either. 

The two had finally arrived at the arcade. Richie had managed to snag the closest parking spot to the entryway and y/n relentlessly made fun of how he never parked straight until they got in the door.

“Okay, kid. Once you get your license, you can criticize my ‘bad’ parking. But for now, since you’re hitching rides for free, I say you better just keep quiet for now.” 

“But you’re so over the lines! I can’t imagine your coloring if that’s how you park.” 

“I’ll have you know, y/n, I don’t color. For one, that shit’s for babies. And I am way past that preschool shit. And second of all, coloring’s way lame.” Richie had made his way over to the Street Fighter machine and inserted a quarter in the slot. 

y/n watched him thoughtfully for awhile as he fidgeted with the joystick and jammed the buttons. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” she asked, growing bored of watching the same repetitive visuals from over his shoulder. But she didn’t think she could ever grow tired of watching him. 

“Hold on.” His hand smashed against the buttons in rapid fire movements while he simultaneously maneuvered the joystick. A few seconds after, the game played a pitiful noise and the boy let out a groan. Richie had lost. 

“That’s a weird way of saying coke.” y/n hummed before skipping off to the lounge area. 

On her way back, she saw Richie’s face contort in frustration. Once again, he had lost to the game. 

“Cheer up, buttercup!” y/n passed handed him the glass bottle and Richie had finally stepped away from the Street Fighter machine. 

“Easy for you to say. You don’t got an inanimate object beating ya four to one.” Richie pretended to wipe the nonexistent sweat off his brow and looked down to y/n, offering her a smug look. 

“Would a kiss make you feel better?” The girl leaned closer to him and got up on her tippy toes, preparing to peck him on his cheek. 

This was the first of y/n showing any sign of real interest. And while Richie wanted to bask in the glory of his long time crush finally coming around, his thoughts also drew to Stan. What kind of friend would he be if he made a move on his friend’s little sister? Technically she’s the one making the moves- 

Cut it out, Rich!

His internal monologue argued for a while before he realized y/n’s lips were attached to his face. 

“W-what are you doing?” Richie belatedly snapped out of his thoughts and came to his senses. 

y/n pulled away. Her arms crossed tightly around her chest and her posture was now slightly hunched over. Oh. 

“I thought I could make you feel better.” She mumbled. When she eventually spoke, she let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding in. “Can you take me home?” She asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. 

“Of course.” The two started heading for the door and Richie tried to slow his pace so that his long legs would be in sync with hers. “To be honest, y/n/n, I was kinda getting tired of this ol’ dump anyways.” 

A small smile graced y/n’s lips as he talked. Even if she was still embarrassed from the previous events. 

“You’re not gonna be a professional video game player?” 

“Oh no. That dream’s been abandoned for a long time now.” Richie quipped back. He was turning the keys into the ignition and began to drive off. 

The car ride to Stan’s place was silent. Either because of the turn that had taken place earlier at the arcade, or because Richie didn’t wanna open his big mouth and accidentally slip up; ruining his relationship with both Stan the Man and Stan the Man’s hot sister. 

Richie’s old chevy slowly came to a stop at the front of Stan’s house. The sky was cloudless and an unnerving shade of blue today, highlighting how perfectly trim and green Uris’s lawn was. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” y/n finally spoke up. Her voice foreign to Richie’s ears after the fifteen minutes of dead air from the two of them. But it wasn’t that foreign. Her voice echoed through his brain practically everyday. Whenever classes got boring or nights seemed endless, Richie found himself either replaying past conversations between them. Or other scenarios… She was an unhealthy addiction he couldn’t quit. Like smoking, only hotter and way more deadly. 

“What’s there to talk about?” Richie faced y/n, putting on his best ‘I’m-not-interested-in-you’ face, when he really felt quite the opposite.

“Richie, I feel like you don’t like me.” Her accusation was dead wrong, but there was hurt in her eyes. Somehow, Richie had managed to convince the girl of his dreams he hates her when that couldn’t be less true. 

“I don’t.” He forced a chuckle to ease the tension but y/n wasn’t having it. 

“Can I tell you something?” y/n asked. Richie nodded, a quizzical look on his face. Before continuing, y/n swallowed. She didn’t usually get nervous, but Richie was someone to get nervous over. “I like you.” 

Her words felt like something out of a dream Richie once had before. 

“What can I say, kid. It’s impossible not to.” Of course, y/n didn’t really like him. At least, not like that. She was probably just saying this for shits and giggles. Pulling his leg. A classic Richie stunt. 

“I mean, I like you like how Ben likes Beverly.” 

Richie’s eyes then widened at the declaration and his body stiffened. 

“It’s okay if you don’t like me back,” she said with such ease that Richie admired. She shrugged and the thin strap of her tank top fell down her shoulder. Richie couldn’t help but notice, his eyes wandering where they shouldn’t. 

“Listen—” He gulped. His eyes kept trailing down no matter how hard he tried not to. “Listen,” he repeated, now meeting her big eyes, “I don’t not like you, y/n/n. In fact the funny thing is… is—” his words got caught in his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her. Not with Stan’s breathing always down his back (whether Stan was actually there or not).  

“What’s so funny, Rich?” Her soft, sweet voice filled his ears once again. It was like a spell, because suddenly (and conveniently), the thought of Stan was no longer in the back of Richie’s mind. 

“I like you too, kid.” His voice was low, but y/n still heard him.

“So what’s stopping this?” A sly smirk formed on y/n’s face. She climbed over the control panel and her already short skirt rode up to be even higher. 

y/n sat herself on Richie’s lap. The boy had to keep from pinching himself. What was happening was straight out of a wet dream of his he’d probably had last night. 

The girl on his lap was toying with a strand of his hair while looking into his eyes. Her shoulder was still bare from the strap that fell off it.

“I’m so glad you feel the same way.” Richie didn’t think he could help himself any longer with the sultry way she was speaking and the fact that she was on his lap. “Now I can do this.” 

y/n placed a tender kiss to the awestruck boy’s lips. It was slow and steady. She didn’t want to mess things up since they had just admitted their feelings to one another. 

But Richie was impatient. 

As soon as she pulled away, he connected his lips to hers again. He was sloppy and fast paced with his movements, yet still full of passion. 

y/n giggled into his mouth which caused Richie’s heart to skip a beat. She’d been waiting for this moment since she first laid eyes on him. 

The first time Richie stepped foot into the Uris household, y/n had greeted him excitedly. 

“y/n could you get that!” Stan shouted to her from their den. He was busy setting up board games, making sure every last piece was in its designated place. 

“Why do I have to?” y/n grumbled, still walking out of her room so she could get to the door anyway. “You were closer.” 

“I’m preparing for game night. This is the first time my friends are coming over and I want everything to be suitable.” Stan was polishing the game pieces now. 

“I don’t think your friends will mind if one of your little thing-a-ma-bobs is out of place.” y/n jokingly tipped over one of the players to Stanley’s game that he had already put into place but she quickly put it back upon noticing the discontent that marked his face as she did so. 

“I’ll mind.” Her brother replied calmly. 

Another knock at the door. 

“Can you please get that?” 

y/n got up and walked over to the door. She was first met with a lanky boy whose legs were too long for his torso and eyes were too big for his face. 

She didn’t expect Stan’s friends to be hot. 

“Hi!” y/n exclaimed, hoping to give off a good impression on the group.

“I didn’t know Stan had an underaged maid. I guess the Uris’ will do anything for labor work.” No one laughed at Richies joke. 

“That’s Stan’s sister, dipwad,” Eddie said, disgusted at his friend. 

Richie made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth and the group shuffled in, meeting Stan in the den. 

“Stan you never told me you had a hottie for a sister.” y/n could hear Richie’s voice from across the hall. Her intestines turned into butterflies and she could pass for a canary with how red her face had gotten. 

But despite having the hugest crush on Richie, y/n never shared any classes with the boy. She was a year younger than Stan, but in the same grade as him because of the accelerated classes she took. So y/n had to admire from afar. 

Well, not anymore. 

Her lips were now attached to his neck, eliciting a moan from him. She smirked at that and started to roll her hips against his. Her name fell from his lips over and over and over again which evoked her to keep going. 

“Richie!?” An angered voice called from the outside of his car. 

It was the one and only. Stanley Uris. 

It was too late to act fast. Richie pulled y/n off him and looked guiltily out the window to see the face that matched the voice. 

But Richie already knew who it was. 

“Who me? I dink you ghat de wrahng goey.” Richie did his best Irish man accent but it was no use. 

“Okay, Richie, cut the crap.” Stan’s face was twisted up in an expression that almost scared Richie. His hands were folded against his chest and he was waiting for an answer. 

Richie simply couldn’t bring himself to answer the boy. He sat in shame with y/n next to him staring at her brother. Richie may as well have had ‘I’M SORRY’ written on his forehead with the way he was gaping at Stan.  

“y/n get out of the car.” Stan said, breaking eye contact with his friend. 

The girl complied, whispering about how sorry she was to the boy who drove her home before getting out. After that, she didn’t dare glance back at him in his car and Richie didn’t have the energy to even look anywhere besides the steering wheel. 

That was last week. Since then, Stan and Richie hadn’t said a word to each other. Richie hadn’t spoken to y/n since then either. The tension was too thick between Stan and Richie and Richie didn’t want to mess things up more than he already did. 

“I c-cuh-can’t believe yo-you liked y/n.” Bill chuckled. 

It was after school and the two were in the library. The details of what happened that day eventually got out. Both Stan and Richie had told their sides of the story and the losers were respectful enough to not take sides. They just hung out with Richie when Stan wasn’t around and hung out with Stan when Richie wasn’t there. 

“What’s so bad about that?” Richie looked skeptically at his friend, trying his best to defend himself. 

“I mean, yea-yeah sh-sh-she’s cute—”

“She’s beautiful.” Richie cut off but Bill rolled his eyes. 

“What-h-ever. I-it’s just funny tha-hat you wuh-would go after her.” 

“I already told you she kissed me first.” Richie proclaimed, a little too proudly. 

“Sh-he’s Stan’s sister!” That was true. 

“And a good kisser.” That was also true. 

“Gross, Richie.” Bill returned to the book in front of him, but Richie kept egging on the conversation. 

“I don’t see why someone has to be off limits just because they’re related to a friend.” His annoyed tone was evident and Bill gave him a sympathetic look. 

“It-t’s b-ba-basically written in th-the br-r-ro code.” Bill paused for a moment and Richie didn’t know if it was because he was embarrassed of his stuttering or if he was gathering his thoughts. “But i-i-if you li-li-like her… wh-who am I to s-suh-say any-th-thing.” 

If Bill was insinuating what Richie thought he was, then that made him cooler than he already was. 

And that’s how Richie found himself in y/n’s room Friday night. The losers were meeting up at the Aladdin to see the new Jim Carrey movie and somehow Richie had been able to get himself out of it, claiming he was overdue on chores and couldn’t make it. 

“Th-that’s t-too bad, R-Rich.” Bill said over the phone (but he knew better) while the other losers pressed their ear up against it, listening in. “The c-co-omedy should be ri-right up your alley.” 

“Dumb and underdeveloped?” Eddie asked Bill. “I don’t wanna see a movie just to hate it,” he complained. 

“Yowza, Eds. And I thought you appreciated my jokes.” Richie feigned hurt over the speaker. “Anywho, I gotta make like a tree and hang up. The ‘rents are asking for me.” They weren’t. 

“O-okay. Maybe nuh-nuh-next wee—” Beep. 

Richie had already hung up. 

y/n grabbed his hand, which was clamped over her mouth and took it off. She was bursting to the seams with laughter. 

“I can’t believe you’re a liar now,” she tsked, trying to fake an ‘I’m-not-mad-at-you-just-disappointed’ look that her English teacher had given her once. 

“Only under these circumstances.” He was fast to attach his lips to hers. They didn’t have much time and he wanted to make the most of what they had now. 

Richie was on top of her now, his lips still on hers. He kissed her everywhere from the crown of her head to the crook of her neck. If his kisses left a print, her skin would be buried under them. 

“Rich…” She sighed contentedly, eyes fluttering from the pleasure he inflicted on her when he had found a sweet spot behind her ear. y/n kissed him back hard with force and a sort of dominance Richie didn’t know she had in her. 

She flipped them, so that she was on top now. y/n took this liberty of having full control to take off her shirt and Richie’s as well. 

Richie smirked and began to kiss lower. His pace was slower than he originally started. Painstakingly slow. y/n wined at how delicate his lips felt tracing her skin but she needed more. 

“Touch me,” she urged. Richie obeyed, his hands were now on her chest, massaging and caressing her delicate skin. 

There weren’t enough words to describe the thrill and satisfaction Richie gave her. y/n could relish in this boy’s embrace forever with how good he made her feel. She began grinding against his jeans, just like the day they were caught by Stanley, so she could ease the ache for him between his legs. 

Richie chuckled, feeling her press against him. He knew precisely what she wanted but to give or not to give in was the question. 

“y/n/n, we don’t have that long,” He warned. 

“I don’t care.” She started peppering his face in kisses the same way he had done to her. At the same time, she began to unbutton his jeans. Who would Richie be to turn down sex anyway? 

She was fast at getting him inside her. Definitely not inexperienced. But Richie didn’t want fast. Not with y/n, at least. He wanted their first together to be slow, sensual, special—

“You’re amazing,” he grunted and she blushed in response. 

Her pace quickened at his praise. Their movements together felt electric and y/n herself was so hypnotic, Richie felt he could get lost in the thought—or the feeling —of her forever. 

A feeling that was indescribable washed over Richie once the two of them were finished. He had stayed inside of her, and y/n was now laying on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and tracing circles on his skin with her thumb. Their chests rose and fell together at the same time, a small action that Richie melted at the sight of. 

“For the record, I didn’t want it to happen like this,” Richie said. There was a sort of fear palpable in his tone. 

“For the record, you kissed me first.” y/n eyed him suspiciously before giving him a peck on the cheek. “And what does that mean? Did you…” She shyly decided on her words for a moment. “Did you not want to..?” 

“No, no, no, no.” Richie immediately counteracted the girl’s suggestion. “I so wanted to do this. I’ve dreamed about doing this—” Richie stopped himself before his talking could make things worse, but y/n found his rambling amusing. 

“So, what did you mean?” y/n tried again. She reached out to hold his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. 

“I mean.” He let out a sigh before continuing. “I wanted us to be, like, an official couple and shit before we do this shit.” He motioned between them and to where they were still joined. 

y/n flushed at the sight and covered her face. 

“Hey.” Richie was soft. Softer than y/n had ever seen him be. He took her wrists in his hands, uncovering her face so he could admire her. 

She was stunning even after sex. 

“I don’t want this to be a one time thing.” He was almost embarrassed to admit it, but with y/n he didn’t feel the need to be afraid. “I want us to go on dates and hold hands and tell each other about our day.” He was looking at the ceiling, daydreaming at the thought.

y/n’s eyes searched his face thoughtfully. “Of course, Rich. I want that, too!” She kissed his lips once more, elated at the boy in front of her. Her face fell shortly after she had a sudden understanding. “What’re you gonna do about Stan?” 

“Who’s Stan?” But Richie’s fake grin wasn’t fooling anyone. “Uh, well, we could tell him…” But when Richie saw a certain uneasiness consume y/n’s face, he ruled that option out. “How do you feel about dating in secret?” He offered. The situation wasn’t ideal, but at the time it seemed to be the lesser of the two evils at hand. 

“Okay,” y/n whispered. “So you should leave.” 

“Woah, babe, I just got here.” Richie sat up, looking for his shirt. 

“Yeah, but the movie should’ve ended by now.” y/n gestured towards the alarm clock on her nightstand causing Richie’s jaw to drop. 

He was heading towards the window now, knowing he had enough time to get out, but he wanted to be careful. 

“See you tomorrow then?” y/n giggled at how clingy he could be. 

“I’ll call you.” And Richie just couldn’t get enough of the smile she was wearing. 

“Sounds like a date!” He yelled from outside her house. 

During the drive home, Richie’s thoughts became lost in y/n once again. This was just the beginning.

[muwur]

hello can I request tendou, kogane, ushijima, and lev reacting to their s/o who really liked painting on their hands, like some kind of pattern or fruits 👉👈

painted hands

♡ drabbles ♡ for ushijima, tendou, koganegawa & lev

❧ gn reader

✎ 1.6k words

a/n: hello lov, ty for the request! sry it took so long to dish it out ;c i made them into short drabbles/scenarios rather than hc’s, ik u didnt specify but hope thats oki!

have a wonderful day! <3

requests: open

ushijima

Ushijima woke up to sunlight peeking through the crack of the blinds. He sat up and stretched his arms upwards, blinking away lingering remnants of sleep from his eyes. The side of your bed was empty; only crumpled sheets and a pillow still marked by the indent of your head remained. Curious, he got up, making his way downstairs and into the kitchen, where he found you sitting at the dining table, paintbrush in hand. His eyes softened as he approached you and placed a palm on your shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

The sound of his deep voice coupled with the warmth of his firm hand made you jump in your seat, jostling you from your thoughts. The brush in your hand painted a streak of red across your fist, overlapping another painted strawberry.

“Ushi, don’t sneak up on me!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

You turned to face him, a slight pout on your lips. Raising your hand, you showed him the many painted strawberries adorning your skin.

“I felt like painting something and eating strawberries, so here,” you explained as your lips curved upward into a small smile. “Luckily, a little water’s enough to get rid of this streak I made here...”

You snatched a table napkin and dipped a corner into your cup of paintwater. Carefully, you dabbed at the red mark, moving upwards to slowly rub it off your skin. Ushijima focused on the intense care and concentration in your gaze, admiring the way your brows furrowed slightly and eyelashes kissed the tops of your cheeks as you blinked.

“There! I’m done,” you grinned as you revealed your completed work. “What do you think?”

He stared at the painted hand you held before him for several seconds before he brought it closer with his own hand and placed a soft kiss to it.

“I like it. It looks nice, like you.”

Embarrassment started to settle in as he lowered your hand from his face, only to be replaced by amused huffs of laughter. Covering your mouth to stifle your giggles, you pointed at Ushijima’s mouth, now peppered with small, faint, red blobs of wet paint.

“Y-You got a little s-something on your face...!” you managed to blurt out despite your chuckles. You snapped a quick picture of his blotched, confused face then continued to type away on your phone before setting it back down on the table.

His brows furrowed in response. “Aren’t you going to show me?”

“Nah. But Tendou will!”

tendou

“You’re sure taking your sweet time.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at his comment, continuing to stroke the paintbrush along the back of his hand.

“Hey, I’m just making sure it looks nice. You’re the one who asked me to do this,” you reminded him.

He smirked through closed eyes, leaning back against the bed frame slowly. “I thought it’d look cute for the upcoming game and I can show it off to my team~ I didn’t realize how long it took, though.”

The bed creaked as he shifted. “Can I stretch my legs out, though? I’m losing circulation, babe.”

You paused your work to move over, allowing him to uncross his legs and spread them along the mattress. He took the opportunity to hook one over your lap. You had to refrain from rolling your eyes once more.

Dipping the tip of your brush in your palette, you positioned his hand on top of his thigh and resumed painting on his skin. You moved carefully, making sure to form the shapes you wanted. You took another brush, one with a smaller tip, and created several criss-crossing lines. Meawhile, Tendou hummed contentedly.

“You’ve been listening and singing to nothing but that song for the past two weeks,” you groaned. “It was catchy first, but now it’s just too much, bro.”

“How else am I gonna pass the time? I’m likewise getting a tad tired so why don’t you hurry up, hm?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m almost there. Be patient.”

Another 5 minutes of his increasingly loud (and annoying) humming passed by before you set down your brush on the nightstand.

“Done! You can open your eyes now.”

“Finally!” he exclaimed, eyelids fluttering open. His red eyes glittered with excitement when he brought his hand to his face, examining the brown circles and criss-crossed tan triangles that adorned his skin. A upward curl graced his lips as his eyes traveled from his hand to your expectant gaze.

“Chocolate ice cream cones?” he questioned with amusement.

“Your favorite treat!” you retorted.

He chuckled. “Actually,” he said as he leaned forward, using his other hand to guide your head in close for a peck to the forehead.

“You’re my favorite treat.”

koganegawa

“Y/n!” you heard your boyfriend call. He was bounding up the grassy hill towards your spot in the shade, a paper bag in his right hand. When he reached you, he set down the bag and leaned down to give you a quick kiss on your head, taking a seat next to you, cross legged. He leaned into your shoulder, peering down at your hands and the paintbrush in them.

“Ooh, what’re you painting?” he asked, unable to make out where you were going with the few splotches on the back of your hand. He held your hand up closer to his face, squinting. “Yellow circles?”

“Yes, but noo,” you answered, snatching your hand back and hiding it from view. Teasingly, you added, “You’ll see~ It’s a surprise. Don’t look until I’m done.”

“Whaat? Why can’t I know?” Koganegawa complained, leaning closer in an attempt to grab your hand back. In seconds, he managed to topple you both over the picnic blanket. Squirming underneath his weight, you retaliated by pushing his face back and stretching your arm out of reach.

“Because you can’t!” you shouted between laughs. Successfully shoving Koganegawa off, you staggered onto your feet and dashed behind the nearby tree for safety.

“Aw, c’mon, just tell me, pleeasseeee,” he pleaded as he got onto his knees.

“No.”

Silence followed for several seconds before he sighed in defeat. “Fine. But eat with me while the food’s still warm. I’m starving!”

Two rice bowls, a large lemonade, and several sneak attacks from Koganegawa later, you waved a hand over your boyfriend’s eyes. He was laying down on the blanket, arms behind his head as he stared at the sunlight-freckled green leaves overhead.

“Okay, dummy, you can see it now,” you joked.

He sat up and took your outstretched palm, turning it over. His eyes widened at the sight of yellow chicks with familiar, brown tufts on their heads. Unable to resist gawking at their cuteness, he gaped at your work.

“This is so cute, y/n! What are these brown little hair thingies, though?”

You rolled your eyes and raised your hand to play with a strand of his own brown little hair thingy. “I based these baby chicks off you!”

His mouth formed an “o” as realization sunk in. “Huh. Do I really look like this?” he asked, holding up your hand next to his face for you to compare.

“Hmmm,” you rubbed your chin in fake thought, looking back and forth between your painting and your boyfriend’s curious expression. “Yes. You’re a bit cuter, though.”

“N-No, you...”

lev

You couldn’t help but feel touched when you noticed the childish wonder in Lev’s eyes as he watched you paint small mangoes across your hand. Dipping your brush into the green paint, you finished off your final fruit with two leaves. You spent several seconds blowing on the paint, forcing your piece to dry faster, then offered your hand to your boyfriend.

Before you could ask him what he thought, however, he was already showering you with compliments.

“Woah, y/n, how are you so talented? This looks even better than those pineapples you did last time, and those were really good! I love this, uh, this gradient -- is that what they call it -- you put here with the orange and yellow! You should do avocados next!”

You huffed with amusement. “Thanks, Lev. I didn’t know you were so into fruit. Or art. Or fruit art.”

He shrugged, smiling. “I just like to see you do what you do best. Other than being the best partner, it’s painting these little fruits on your hand!”

A knock was heard on the door and a voice called out, “Lyovochka? I made some snacks and tea for you and y/n.”

The door cracked open to reveal Alisa’s bright eyes and radiant smile. Once her gaze fell upon the paint bottles at your side, it shifted over to your hand, blotched with an array of yellow, orange, and green.

“Oh, y/n, I didn’t know you liked painting! May I see?” she asked excitedly, opening the door slightly wider.

“Of course,” you answered, extending your hand out for her to look.

She stepped inside and gently took your hand to observe the painted fruits. “It’s adorable, I love it!” she swooned. “After snacks, could you paint some for us, too? Or teach us?”

“Having oranges on my hand as I spike the ball does sound kinda cool...” Lev thought aloud.

“Heh, only if you don’t miss,” you said jokingly, pinching one of his cheeks playfully. “But I’d be happy to!”

And thus you found yourselves huddled together in the living room, fruit sandos and paintbrushes in hand as you three attempted to feed and paint on each other. Though it ended up a bit messy in more ways than one, Lev was content with his misshapen, orange oblongs and Alisa in love with her pink-orange peaches. None of you hesitated to show off your matching fruit hands to anybody you came across for the next two days.

[bubblyani]

Bail Out : 02

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne Multi Chapter Series

Chapter 02: Unrequited

Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault. However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne, surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your choices in life, career, and in love.

Word Count: 7213

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Swearing, Hints of Mugging and Violence

Author’s Note: Very happy to see the response I received so far. Hope you will enjoy the progression of this story. Enjoy!

Songs Mentioned:

Ain’t no Stopping us Now- McFadden & Whitehead

Eyes off You- M-22, Arlissa and Kiana Ledé

Chapter 1 HERE

(Saturday 3 am)

Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Alfred Pennyworth rose up from his chair upon seeing Bruce Wayne enter the Penthouse with haste. The sudden need to spend one’s late hours on a riveting novel was certainly coincidental, for tonight the Butler had been awake for two valid reasons, as it seemed.

“I’m a little relieved you didn’t come back home with Ms.Natasha…” Alfred said hoarsely. Loosening his tie, Bruce flashed a soft smile in his direction.

“I take it that you don’t like her, Alfred?”

“Oh! Her talent is admirable” the elderly man replied, watching the younger man rush over to his bedroom, “But her arrogance is simply unforgivable” he continued, increasing the volume of his voice so that his master could still hear. Alfred’s eyes subtly squinted with curiosity when Bruce returned with his laptop.

Sitting on one of the dinning chairs, Wayne made himself comfortable ,before typing up some words in it. “Trouble, Master Wayne?” Alfred inquired. “I need to look up someone…” Bruce answered, whilst accessing the Wayne Enterprises Internal Server. “And who may that be exactly, Sir?” “My knight …” Bruce began, his index finger grazing over ENTER button,“….in shining armor…” Finally pressing it, he managed to open the Personnel File required, “…apparently” Both men spent the next few minutes, studying the profile in complete silence and fascination. The owner of the profile was female, appearing to an employee of Wayne Enterprises. Swiping through every page, Bruce made sure to pay close attention to every little detail. Until finally, he spoke up. “Alfred…” Bruce said, looking over to him, “We’re gonna need some bail money…” Mr.Pennyworth flashed him a small smile in turn. “Of course you do, Sir…” He replied, although there was indeed a hint of sarcasm.

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

(Monday)

The rhythmic clicks of your stilettos were interrupted by the ring of your cell phone. Monday morning, the beginning of a new week. Thus, more work awaited you, similar to everyone else in the world. Digging inside your oversized handbag, you rummaged through, forcing you to stop in your tracks on the pavement, only a few feet away from Wayne Tower.

Few seconds passed by, yet you still could not find your phone. Although those few seconds seemed adequate, for the chilly morning breeze to caress the back of your neck, and for the cup of mocha to keep your hand warm like an invisible glove, or even for the delicious sandwich inside your bag to tease your nostrils with it’s aroma. Bless the caller’s patience, you thought. When you finally grabbed it from the bottom of the handbag, you smiled, upon seeing the name that appeared on screen. “ ’Morning Ali! What’s up?” You answered, in a cheery tone. With your working schedules being different, Allison would relish the opportunity of sleeping in. Unlike you. “Hey Sweetie…” Allison spoke, her deep voice sounding even deeper in the morning, “Just FYI, they’re sending someone to fix the Wi-fi today…” “Oh Thank God!…” you exclaimed, “Finally I can do some catching up…” you said, backing unto the wall to allow the passerby’s to walk past. To both of your dismay, the Wi-fi connection seemed to have a breakdown during the weekend, causing what could be called as an ‘unexpected detox’ from all forms of social media and internet access. But now, relieved about the good news, you began to walk once again, your rhythmic clicks getting their groove back. “Um…Sweetie?” 


“Yeah, what’s up?” You asked. Allison grew quiet for a few seconds, which confused you. “You might wanna…” she paused, “…keep off the web today…” she added hesitantly, “Or… even for a few days…” You raised your eyebrows, as you approached the entrance of  Wayne Tower. 
“Why?” You asked, “What do you mean?-Hey Bill !”

Amidst your cheerful greeting, Bill the Doorman grew nothing but speechless as you passed him by. And it surprised you. ‘Babbling Bill’ was what you would tease him with, yet there he was, quiet as a mouse. And he was not the only one. “Hey! You there?” Allison asked, seemingly concerned by your own silence. Gripping on to your phone tightly, you felt discomfort. “Ali, I gotta go…” You said, hanging up whilst you walked through the lobby. A walk through the lobby of Wayne Tower was usually a busy walk. Your voice would get the warm up it needed with many a greetings, when at the same time, your upper limbs would get the stretching required from all the waving. Yet today, this morning, it was all too different.

All those who passed you smiled, yet no words were exchanged. Speechless would be most common word to describe it. The moment you would pass anyone by, it was quite noticeable how some quickly gathered into groups of two or three’s, followed up with hushed whispers. Uncomfortable was clearly the word you would use to describe your situation, thus you looked straight ahead and walked towards the elevator hall. The more eyes washed over you, the stronger you wished for the elevators to be closer in distance. You did not want to walk anymore. Oh how wonderful would have been to float anywhere in flash! What could possibly have happened for all to look at you this way? Your eyes widened. Could it be? The Friday night incident? Allison’s advice, could that be in relation to this, by any chance?

You finally caught the elevator, being the last one to get in. With a packed and quiet crowd standing behind, the doors closed and you watched the floor numbers of the panel, change with every second. But then, whispers began: “Is she the one who-”

“Yep…”

“Oh! Wow…”

It seemed that whispers were what you could not escape from. If it was another day, you would have gladly turned back to spot the culprit. But today was not your day.

So, there. Everyone knew. But what exactly?

8th Floor, HR Department of Wayne Enterprises. Stepping out of the elevator, you grew nervous. Being the Department that dared not attract attention of this sort, what could possibly be the reaction of your peers and colleagues? Taking a deep breath, you entered the office space, ready to face the music.

Except, you were greeted with actual music.

And the loudest of cheers.

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

Never have you been this confused. And never had you seen your Staff in HR worked so collectively in any activity other than this. All 20+ of your junior staff, up from their chairs, visible from their booths. Never have they clapped so zealously before. “Ain’t no Stopping us Now” by McFadden & Whitehead played in the background the moment you entered the large room. “Ain't No Stoppin Us Now! We're on the move!…..”

Instead of feeling relieved or euphoric, embarrassment washed over you.

“…Ain’t No Stoppin Us Now! We've got the groove!”

The disco chorus would normally tempt you to break into dance, but all you could do was to cover your face, to hide the redness that deemed visible. What could have possibly been showed to these innocent people for them to act this way around you? And most importantly, you did not know if these cheers were of genuine support, or sheer mockery.

“HR is cool again! Whoo!”
“Literal chills, Boss!…” “You…are…amazing!” “You showed them! Fight the power!”

Nodding with a shy smile, you acknowledged everyone’s comments as you walked towards the direction of your office, uncomfortable by cheers for the first time in all your years of existence.

“Well done, boss…Well done!” Greg Cohen, Assistant Manager cried out as he joined you. Given his track record, you were convinced this was all a prank. “Alright alright…” you muttered with a smirk, “…message received” yet prepared for an unexpected surprise in the end. Except Greg never looked this happy. “Are you kidding?” He said, “The way you stood up to that jerk? Pure bad-assery, Boss!” “Is your hand okay?” Paula Yang, one of the Senior Executives jumped in with concern, following you over to the office with Greg. “Yes, Paula.” You answered kindly, showing your hand, “And I was only ‘badass’ cause I was highly intoxicated, Greg!” You pointed out to him with exaggeration. To which he laughed. “Yeah! We can’t forget how crazy you get when you’re wasted…” he said with a wink, watching you finally sit down,“Oh! Remember that one time you willingly joined the junior staff to do a Taylor Swift Karaoke-off?” Eyes widened, that embarrassing memory played in your mind like a fast forward clip. “Oh my god-don’t!” You cried out with frustration, covering your face. All in the midst of Greg’s laughter. “I remember you sang 22 with such gusto, it was classic!” “Do you think HR is gonna be in trouble for this though?” Paula asked. You were struggling with an answer: “I-” “Nah!” Greg waved his hand frantically, “There worse things going on in Gotham right now” “That’s not the point-” you interjected, or tried to. “So many worse things-” “GUYS!…” Your interjection finally silenced the both of them, although the music was live and kicking outside. Taking a deep breath, you began: “As much as I appreciate all this…would you mind giving me some space for a little breather? I mean…” you paused, showing your coffee, “ I just got to office so…” you said, hinting their exit, “...Thank You” you added as they nodded frantically. “Sure! of course…” Greg said, “You’re the best, Boss!” Giving a thumbs up, he disappeared. “Yeah! Yeah!…” You said with raised eyebrows, “Paula…the door, please!” You added courtesy as you looked at her. The young executive obediently closed the door behind, leaving you alone at last. Never did you expect this. Especially when the title of Senior Manager was crowned over your head.

Pressing the space button of your computer, you watched the screen come alive, welcoming you with Google Search on your Browser Window. Staring at blinking cursor, you were tempted. Highly tempted to do the unthinkable. Should you act on it? Or would it crash and burn your day altogether? Yet, how unfair was it that everyone else knew but you.

Exhaling deeply, the last thread of patience left you. No more. Taking a deep breath, you proceeded to let your fingers press the keys.

Brring!

The ring of your office phone made you flinch in a flash. Holding your chest with shock, you looked over to the phone screen, forcing you to hold yourself tighter.

878. Boss!

You gulped with fear, fingers almost shaking as you answered the phone: “Y-yes?” Your stutter was called for. “My office…now!” A voice spoke from the other side. It was stern, it was expected. Sighing with silence, you nodded whilst replying low and with obedience : “Yes…”

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

Sitting with your hands over your mouth, you watched it all. You watched the entire Friday night incident caught on video.And it was more vivid than you could remember.

“Don’t you DARE say things like that!”

“Why? What are you gonna do? Threaten m-OW!”

“You take that back! I mean it”

“Wha-? OWW!! ARGH! MY NOSE!”

“SECURITY!” 


Your eyes squinted with discomfort. The manner in which you spewed your words in rage, and surprise him with your amateur yet deadly punches; this was a side of yourself you had never glanced upon before. As the video stopped playing in the laptop, you looked back at the title above it:

“Sucker Punch! : Woman engages in assault at Famous Hotel”

With your eyes glued to the title, you let it sink in to your system. No wonder everyone downstairs appeared speechless. You dreaded to look away from the screen at the two people watching you from the other side of the table. And you chose not to. “So…” You attempted a casual tone, “…has this…gone viral?” Ted Hawthorne, one of the Legal representatives of Wayne Enterprises, cleared his throat: “Truthfully, I’m inclined to give a sarcastic remark right now” he said, in his bass tone. “Please…” you sighed, “…by all means” you said, eyes still on the screen. Taking a deep breath, Ted began: “If only this was viral, kid” he said, proceeding to point at the screen, “This…is mega viral. Spreading faster than wild fire” he continued, “Media is already calling you ‘The Bruiser’” Your boss however, still kept silent. Sighing even heavily, you looked at Ted. “Okay, be straight with me” you said, “What am I in for? How much did I anger this Henderson guy?” Ted scoffed, “You seriously don’t know who you’re up against? Erik Henderson of Henderson Incorporated?” Your jaw dropped as low as it could. Henderson Incorporated had always been one of the Rival Companies of Wayne Enterprises. How could you not possibly put those two together? “Wait! No…” you exclaimed, “But what about Magnus Henderson?” “That’s his father.” Ted said, taking the laptop, “He retired….” He added whilst typing, “ …and passed the company over to Erik.” Flipping the laptop back to you. It now showed an article, “It all happened so fast last week. So I guess I don’t blame you for not knowing” he said, sitting on the chair right next to you. Your Head remained silent, still. “Anyways, back to the point…” Ted said, as you scrolled through the article,  “The usual legal practice from his side, would be pressing charges for assault…” A certain someone warned you about this a few days before. Someone who unknowingly caused warmth in your poor heart. As you looked down at your right hand, at the tightly wrapped bandage, that warmth seemed more evident to you. Ignoring that, you grew worried. “Yeah but…” you began,  “What if something like this happened between two drunk friends at a bar or something? Does that mean someone will be pressed charges?” “Well, are you two…friends?” Ted questioned with a raised eyebrow. Silence came over you, along with a heap of embarrassment. “….no…” you muttered low. Closing your eyes, you sighed. Your disgraceful behavior had caused shame, it was obvious. Shaking his head, Ted crossed his legs, his deep, brown skin shining from the fluorescent light as he ran his hand over his bald head. “…as I was saying, before getting interrupted…” he looked at you sternly, to which you mouthed an apology, “… pressing charges would be the usual practice, but it seems that Mr. Henderson was more than generous and decided to not do either of that…” your eyes widened instantly by his words, “…except he demands some things in return…” “Which are?…” “A public statement of apology” “Oh…” “And immediate termination of your job at Wayne Enterprises…” “WHAT????” You yelled. Gripping on to both arms of the chair, you involuntarily looked at both Ted and your Boss. Could this really be your worse nightmare come to life? Did you really punch yourself into your own undoing? “Calm down, kid!” Ted raised both his hands, “Damn! let me finish…” he muttered under his breath worriedly, to which you nodded. Whilst taking deep breaths, you watched him continue: “Yes, his latter request seems a bit exaggerated, the Board completely agreed on that. However, your performance will be considered for a special evaluation during the upcoming few months. And then the board will come to confirmation whether to keep you in the company or not. It’s just a special precaution. I’m sure it’s not a big deal” There really was no apt response for any of this. All you could do was to let the silence take over. All the sudden, you felt nothing but emotionally exhausted. Sensing this, Ted offered a sympathetic glance. “Just keep your head down and read the statement, kid” he said, getting up “The press will be arriving at around 11:30…Good Luck!” Giving a nod to your boss, Ted headed out, leaving the two of you alone. At last. Lillian Foster, Head of the HR Department at Wayne Enterprises, was no doubt, an exceptionally brilliant woman. Rising through the ranks in the department with ease, she holds the position of Head at the age of 40, and possibly one of the youngest black women of power in this company. And this was possibly the longest period she had ever been silent with you.

And it frightened you.

With the density of silence increasing in the atmosphere, you kept looking down. You simply did not have the heart to look back at her. Along with the silence, the tension was equally thick, enough to be sliced into several stacks. Which begged the question: who will speak up first? Being the perpetrator, it seemed only fair you speak up. Except, she finally did before you could. “I had to watch this…” She began calmly, “…for more than ten times…just to even understand and accept that it was you doing it”. Though she was calm, the disappointment in her was evident, “How did you think I feel?” Your heart grew heavy. Nothing felt worse than disappointing Lillian. Not only was she your boss, she was also your mentor. She was the woman who took you in like family from your very first day in the company. In the company with a majority of men, she was a maternal figure, a sibling and teacher. You owed her to the stars. Clearly her question was a rhetorical one, for she continued: “You should be really grateful that Mr. Wayne was kind enough to bail you out himself. That’s as kind as you can get” she said, getting up from her chair to walk over to you, “The man must have woken up from the right side of his bed that morning…praise that man!” The shape of her heavily pregnant belly was quite visible in her navy blue dress. Yet she managed to handle everything with the boss persona that she owned so well. Taking the seat next to you, it was only fair to match her eye-line with yours. “Last week, I was so sure and ready to leave the responsibilities to you, and take my maternity leave with liberty…”she continued with a sigh,“But now…I’m beginning to get worried…” “Don’t say things like that, Lillian…” You shook your head frantically, “Just think of the baby…” you said, pointing at her belly. You still remember the number of times you spoke to that belly with adoration, hoping the little one inside would hear you. “I don’t understand…” Lillian said with frustration, “I’ve never seen you like this…”she said with concern, “Sure, you had a hard time with your temper with some people on the first few years here..” “Cause the people were jerks-” You added through gritted teeth, instantly recalling the horrible staff mistreating you back then. “Yes they were…” She nodded, “But then you realized, being in HR means we have to put up with all that, but still be the ones people turn to…” she spoke with such eloquence, “…handle everything with a smile and composure…” she added, making you nod, “And I’ve seen you grow… and do many great things…”, you smiled upon hearing that. “But punching someone?”Her informal tone just broke free, “What the hell?” “I really don’t know why, Lillian…” You replied with honesty and equal frustration, “I wish you were there…you didn’t hear the things that man said about Mr.Wayne…about the company” your jaw tightened, “…that man maybe the new CEO of Henderson Incorporated, but he had no class!” “But still-” “-violence is never the answer…I know” With a sigh, You finished her sentence. Silence followed suit for a few seconds. Until Lillian’s lips finally curved upright. “I kept hearing the others say how badass you were…” she said, with a chuckle. You turned to her, suppressing a smile, “A part of me wants to agree…but… how can I?” She said, tilting her head. Chuckling back, you shook your head once again. “And I don’t want you to either…” you replied, “It was just a massive screw up…” Taking a deep breath, you groaned as you covered your face: “And now…I have to fix it” you said, looking up. “Do you have those pearl earrings with you?” Lillian asked. You nodded: “It’s in my bag, always…” “Good…” She said, getting up, “You’re gonna need them! ”

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

(Evening)

The Mikimoto pearl earrings, possibly were the most expensive, most precious pieces of jewelry you ever possessed. The mere glance of it always reminded you of the hard work and effort put into saving enough money to purchase a worthy pair of the famous brand of pearl earrings, for pearls were your favorite. And you were glad of your purchase, for it always brought class to any occasion.

Including making a public apology before the entire press of Gotham City.

Leaning forward against the back of the couch, you folded your arms, watching your own zoomed image on the television screen. It was the Late Night News, and the Apology was broadcasted once again on the News Rerun. Allison did not miss this. Sitting on the couch, her eyes were glued to the screen with concern. You both watched. The flashing lights of the cameras attacking you selfishly, symbol of greedy journalists on the mission to get the perfect shot of your remorse. In your formal office attire of skirt and jacket, the earrings highlighted your face, as you stood behind the podium alongside many representatives of Wayne Enterprises, including Ted Hawthorne. When you watched yourself read the speech, you remembered the words echoing in your head:

“….I would like to extend my sincerest apologies to Mr. Erik Henderson. It was not…” you watched yourself pause,

“…my intention to cause him such harm and pain. I am aware that my actions were tainted with irresponsibility and unprofessional-ism. I would also like to apologize to all staff in the hotel, and to all the other customers present that evening. My actions, as I mentioned earlier, were simply irresponsible and certainly not to be ignored so easily. I will make sure to adhere to the necessary measures that will be taken by Wayne Enterprises to compensate the loss and shame I have brought upon them. Thank you! That’ll be all”

“You did good, Sweetie…” Allison murmured gently, as the both of you watched the version of you on the screen slowly exit the podium. The screen transitioned over to the News Anchor in the studio:

“…However, several eyewitnesses have anonymously claimed the attack could indeed be provoked by Henderson himself, by making comments of defamation against billionaire socialite Bruce Wayne, of Wayne Enterprises…”

Your stomach formed a knot the second a video of Bruce Wayne was played. Possibly from that night. But the knot tightened with pain as you saw the woman who stood next to him. “Quick question…” Allison asked, pointing at the screen, “Was that Natasha person really pretty as she looks on camera?” “Nah…not really…” You flatly replied, folding your arms. Except a few seconds later, you realized you merely said that out of spite. Because you felt sour. And it was not true, “What am I saying? Of course she was pretty …” you chuckled, “She is pretty, just like you”. Shifting towards your direction, Allison sensed your emotion. After all, she was a woman too. With her blonde tresses illuminated by the lights of the television in the midst of the dark room, Allison’s expression changed. It was difficult to decipher, but it changed. “Sweetie…” She uttered with sympathy. A vacuum began to form within you, and you found it hard to breathe. Unable to take that in, you merely shrugged your shoulders. “Well that’s it…you saw the speech…” you said, pointing at the screen nonchalantly, “Goodnight, Ali…” your greeting was short, walking away before she could even respond. The door closed quietly behind you. Staring at the comfortable bed, all you longed was to get in it. Feeling the bouncy mattress brushing against your knees, you slowly crawled across the bed until you reached the window in the corner. The pavement was clearly visible as you opened it. Observing the hubbub outside, your mind began to wonder, it began to ponder. You did it. You gave the speech. And being in your good behavior was never going to be an issue, since you were never a troublemaker.

Therefore, why must you be filled with such emptiness?

“Never underestimate the power of probability…”

“You’ll have to be more specific”

“We will see each other again…”

“I think…I like Bruce Wayne...”

Looking at your bandaged right hand, you sighed heavily. Of course, you knew why.

Ever since that fateful day, ever since you were brave enough to admit to yourself how you had accidentally fallen for Bruce Wayne, he was all you could think of. Every waking moment, every thought flavored with leisure, it seemed as if he had secretly kept you company in your heart. You kept recalling that conversation in his Lamborghini, which seemed far from superficial. The manner in which he treated your wounds and healed you, the manner in which he bailed you out of jail himself, they were certainly many a kind and intimate acts rolled up into a singular moment. No wonder you were blissful in the corners of your imagination during the Wi-fi breakdown that weekend. Like a woman glancing upon her hand with a new engagement ring, you took the pleasure of glancing at your right hand every single time with a smile and giggles that soon followed. After ages, you were stirred by someone. He excited you, he made you look forward to the days ahead. For it would open the door to so many possibilities. One being the possibility of bumping into him again. You had fallen for him so hard and so fast, you chose to still keep the thin bandages on, even it was no longer necessary.

For the bandage was merely the physical remnant of his concern, his kindness to you.

But, when the sun rose on Monday, and the cold, hard reality hit you in the face in so many forms, you were forced to face the bitterness as well. Bruce Wayne was wrong. You could estimate the power of probability, for the probability of meeting someone like him again was certainly low. With you being a mere Senior Manager in his company, and him the sole owner of his family inherited business, it seemed literally impossible to win his heart. Always photographed and seen with women of beauty, power, class and high society, he was indeed a man of regality. Meanwhile, you were just a middle-class Gotham native, currently sharing an average apartment with her friend, hoping for an upgrade in life. You closed the window, yet permitting the city lights to rest on your bed as you crawled under the sheets. You chuckled to yourself. Funny how you desired for someone of the least attainability, yet searching for a thread of hope. His kindness that day was certainly a product of sheer pity. In truth, it could be a possibility that you were merely fooling yourself. Besides, in technicality, he was indirectly your boss, your employer. Thus, causing these feelings to be unprofessional to the fullest, something you never stood up for.

Silly crush, it was just a silly crush. Just a silly crush, you thought to yourself. Why must you fall for people this fast? A trait that you clearly despised. A weakness indeed. Running your fingers through your hair, you held out your right hand in front of you. The tightly wrapped bandage stared at you with innocence. That symbol. It was his reminder. But also the reminder of your foolishness, and the reminder of your pain. It had to go. That was the only way. Through gritted teeth, you slowly peeled it off from your skin. Sincerely hoping your feelings would be peeled off from your poor heart as well. For they were an inconvenience.

Especially when they seemed so hopeless.

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

(One Week Later)

The Annual Charity Dinner of the Wayne Foundation, had always targeted to raise massive funds for the most essential of charities that needed financial assistant. It was also an event that never failed to cause stress on you. Whether it was the overseeing, planning, and of course, tending to the guests.

But this year, it was the polar opposite for you.

“I’ll gladly be checking everything on the night…” you assured to Lillian few days before, “But I am not attending the dinner…” you insisted with much exaggeration. Truthfully, you pleaded, “It’s bad enough I caused enough embarrassment already…” you added, rubbing your temples with frustration.

And with very little chance of Bruce Wayne attending, there was no reason to attend at all. Wait! your brows furrowed at that thought. Why would that even matter?

Two hours before commencement, the HR organizing staff  had gathered in the Hotel Banquet Hall. Whilst the waiters continued to set up the tables and decorations, you held responsibility in briefing the group. With your juniors and colleagues all dressed to the formal nine’s, you chose to punish yourself with all black semi-formal attire instead, in the form of black pants and a sequin embellished top with spaghetti straps. Regardless, you managed to fit in with the help of your rouge lipstick, which made an astounding difference.

“I believe all you are familiar with the schedule already…” your voice was rife with clarity, “….so to sum it all up: Make sure the guests arrive after proper check up…” you continued, as the others took notes nodding, “….make sure the drinks are served on time, make sure the entertainment will be ready when the starters are being served, and make sure-”

“-not to punch anyone?”

The sudden inquiry from Greg, caused unintentional laughter amongst the whole group. Nodding along to the silliness that was yet to be forgotten, you smiled tightly.

“Yes! Exactly, Greg!” You said, looking at everyone, “Don’t get too drunk and punch anyone like I did…” inciting more laughter, “Okay? Well...Good Luck! And Enjoy!”

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

An hour had passed. You listened to the speeches and the formalities made. You coordinated the needful with the convenience of a walkie talkie. You ticked away every task on your notepad. All the while you were willingly caged in the VIP sitting room right next to the Hall. Finally, with the toasts were in completion, Dinner was served, Live entertainment was ready, the real fun had begun. And you were finally free. Yet, with you choosing to remain in the room, you figured you deserved all the similar luxuries at your own privacy.

Which also included alcohol.

A young waiter entered the room with a bubbly persona. "Good Evening, Ma'am. You ordered Whiskeys for two, am I correct?" he inquired, subtly looking around as you approached him. “You certainly are…" you replied with an equal bubbly tone, "You see…One for this guy…" you said, as you left hand picked up one glass, "...and One for this bad boy right here” you added when your right hand took the other. "Cheers!" you sniggered, watching the unimpressed waiter walk away shaking his head. You did not blame him. Your jokes were only so-so.

This unexpected pressure to be on your best behavior certainly did not help you with your patience, forcing you to drink even without a scrap on food in your stomach. A sense of freedom was always offered to you the moment the whiskey touched your lips. Suddenly all the stress that littered in your brain were gone, and it felt nothing but sparkly fresh. The moment the alcohol began to wind your body up like a toy, you knew music was the one missing element.

A cool spray of dance synth reached your ears in a progressive manner. Hearing the first few seconds of the song, you were intoxicatingly elated to find out what the song was. Freeing your tresses from the constraints of the half ponytail, you stood up from your armchair, swaying to the introductory verse of “Eyes on You” by M-22, Arlissa and Kiana Ledé :

“When I feel your tempo and I hear you echo Don't let go, don't let go You set the rhythm, I take my position Position, position...”

Your chest began to pop in double time as the song progressed to a faster pace. Infused with the side swaying, your drink however remained intact. Taking another sip whilst you danced, your right hand forced you to glance at it. There may have not been a bandage anymore, but the thin healing scars were visible enough to bring the reminder: Bruce Wayne.

“Can't take my eyes off you, my eyes off you No matter what you do, no, no way...”

Throwing your head back, the body slowly rolled in rhythm. During which that mind of yours, truly began to wonder about the craziest things. Would he, the great Bruce Wayne, enjoy this? Would you be better at this than the other girls he had been with combined? With eyes closed, the confidence in your dancing swelled. He was indeed quite desirable, that Bruce Wayne. Your drunken self was clearly unfiltered with opinions. Ah! Bruce Wayne.

“Ahem!" Someone cleared their throat, forcing you to quickly open your eyes.

Only to find the actual Bruce Wayne, standing a few feet before you. And just right then, the heart did not hesitate to signal its beat to increase in deathly speed.

Like fuckin’ beetle juice, you thought to yourself.

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

Sharply dressed as always, never did Bruce Wayne fail to look attractive, ever. Truthfully, it seemed possibly impossible for him to do so. Though your body reacted to the sight of him with devotion, your intoxicated heart had other plans.

“Ah! Mr. Wayne! ” You cried out louder than you should. Lifting your glass, the intoxication was evident in your tone, “Welcome …to my Private party…”, followed by a giggle, “…You here to tinkle?” Your inquiry was full of mischief.

“Actually…Yes, I am…” the Billionaire replied. How exactly he said it, you had difficulty remembering, “Are you alright?” He asked with concern. A concerned voice laced with his signature softness. You scoffed with disbelief. “Me? I’m FINNNE!” You answered, your last word seemingly elongated and possibly dragged, “But …wait a minute…” squinting one’s eyes, you pointed at him bravely, “W-Why do you keep…seeing me drunk??”, You slurred, “WAIT! You know what?…” you cried out, before he could even answer, “Don’t care…” you said proudly, as you turned away. “Gonna quit this job anyways…” you muttered to yourself, rolling your eyes. Yet you danced, in hopes he would stand there and watch you. You danced, in hopes he would have a spark of interest somehow. With your intoxication unlocking the doors to the inner desires of your heart, you now had access to them all. And that was what you actually desired for. His attraction, his approval, his validation, his love. Taking in more sips to burn your tongue, you felt braver and energized. You felt cheeky too, in fact.

You wanted to turn back, facing him with such confidence that he could not resist you. But you only managed to sink your heart instead.

For he was gone.

Landing on the armchair once again, you wondered if what you just saw, was just an illusion. Regardless, you knew one thing for sure: You never felt so foolish. Gulping down the last of your drink, you collapsed to the armchair once again. Clarity had finally dawned on you:  You were never really over him. You were just that stupid, foolish girl, hopeless about someone who will never care back.

Curse these emotions! This heaviness that lingered in your chest burdened you. Unrequited emotions could never be as torturous as this. For it would be the constant sadness that will remain. Desire leads to impatience, impatience leads to disappointment. The disappointing fact that Bruce Wayne will never look your way, even though you hope to.

You have never felt sorry for yourself. But being drunk, it was easier to do so. And with your inhibitions lowered in a rush, it did not take long for that pitiful heart to sink in further deep. And it certainly did not take long for the tears to slowly form around your eyes as well.

The truth was to be faced, you were worthless, you were never good enough for him. Blind and hopeless, this was just a ridiculous idea in the first place. Bowing your head down, you allowed your self to cry softly, reaching out for the other glass. Tonight, it seemed the only company you had were the echoing music, the burning alcohol and your salty, never ending tears. Truthfully, they may possibly be obliged to keep you company forever.

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

Two glasses of whiskey got you incredibly intoxicated, especially with no food in your system. As it should. Yet, you were conscious enough to make an exit before causing any more trouble to anyone ever again. Sneaking out into the lobby from the secret exit of the room, you managed to head out in peace. With your handbag slung over your shoulder, you were on a dire attempt to wipe off the smudged mascara, sniffing softly as you exited the hotel.

Only to sigh in frustration when there were no taxis at this hour.

With the possession of two working legs on you, it was decided to walk further down the city to hail one. Unexpectedly, you found yourself walking down a smaller street, dark and lonely.

“Can't take my eyes off you, my eyes off you No matter what you do, no, no way…”

You sang to yourself quite lazily, as you made your way. Clang! The sound of a garbage bin falling down made you halt. Quickly turning back, you felt a slight dizziness in your head. Holding your head to stop the spinning, you took a few deep breaths. But when you looked back, there seemed to be nothing. Rats maybe, you thought, turning forward to resume your walk.

Only to scream as you found three men standing before you. Dressed in ragged, dull clothing, two of the men held out guns, while the other stood empty handed. Muggers, possibly?

“Gimme your wallet, Lady!”

The man wearing a beanie yelled out threateningly, brandishing his gun at you. Confirmed, they were indeed muggers. Though intoxication was in your system, sobriety took over for a few minutes to save your life.

“Okay…” you slurred, “…take it easy” you added calmly. The man furrowed his eyebrows. “You bossing me, bitch?” He yelled angrily. 

“No! No! I was… talking to myself…” You answered quickly. Putting both hands up, you took a deep breath, “Let me just slowly…reach into my bag…” you said, while your right hand dug into the bag with certainty, “….and-ah shit!” Your heart sank immediately. “WHAT IS IT??” “I left my wallet…” you answered in all honesty, “ I-” “PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS IN THE AIR!!” The man bellowed. “Okay okay okay…” You responded. Maintaining your composure to much surprise, you tried not to stumble, “Listen…gentlemen…” you added, “This is not worth the trouble, okay?” You took a deep breath,  “I’m drunk… and from the looks of it…” you showed your two hands, “…incredibly destitute! I have nothing to offer you-” You paused. The empty handed man was surprisingly quiet compared to the other two. Your eyes widened the moment he decided to finally weaponize himself, with a knife instead.

Seeing the sharp, shiny object, sent immediate signals of fear throughout your system. This man, he seemed to be more in control of his actions. His features were ambiguous, yet he seemed certain.

Very certain of the fact he will kill you tonight.

Before you could even flee, the other two had you surrounded from both sides. With your heart beating fast, your breath began to quicken. If money was out of your reach, then why would they still bother?

“What? Why are you doing that? Did I offend you in some way?” You pattered, watching the knife wielding man, “Did you think I was underestimating my self worth or something-ah crap! You’re coming closer” you said meekly, seeing the man confidently walk towards you. Leaving no choice, you put your bare fists up in defense. Yet you groaned with fear, “Oh!...Why the hell am I talking so much when I’m nervous-”   The moment you almost felt the side of the knife graze your arm, the moment you almost had your life taken, your eyes caught the sight of a giant black figure jumping on top of him. “ARGH!!” Falling on your back from the indirect push, you looked on to see the knife wielder cry out loudly. You sat up, gasping as you watched the him being incapacitated, and instantly tied to the nearest pipe. All by that Dark Figure. The figure whose cloak blew to the side by the sudden gust of wind.

It was Batman. In the flesh.

Distressed, the other two muggers began to fire shots,  only to have those pitiful bullets be deflected weakly, leaving them powerless even with their weapons. Batman charged towards them in the form of a walk, whilst they kept shooting, all until their bullets finally ran out. Skillfully avoiding their amateur punches and kicks, Batman’s responsive blows were godlike by nature, leaving them down on the ground faster than expected. With added aching pains. Getting up on your feet, you watched the caped crusader tie them up.

“You alright?” He asked, in a gruff voice. You nodded frantically, awestruck by his power and presence. “Yeah…” you replied, clasping both hands together, “My god…That was-” “Hey Ma’am! Do you want me to call 911?” An older, good samaritan cried out from the other side of the street. It was possible he may have heard gunshots from a mere few seconds ago. Looking over to him, you smiled. “Yeah, that would great, Thanks” you yelled back politely. Sighing with relief, you knew your gratitude was deserved by someone else, “And thank-” You quickly towards Batman, “….you” Only to find him gone. Poof! Disappeared into thin air.

The culprits appeared far from powerful as they rolled around and groaned in pain, hands tied to various stationary objects on the ground. You could not fathom what just happened. But most importantly, you could not believe you were still alive. All thanks to him. The Dark Knight.

Your heartbeat increased once again. To make matters worse, a strange feeling formed in your stomach, a feeling that traveled all over your body. It made you uneasy and sweaty. Not to mention the quickened breathing. Before you could even dare to decipher these sudden effects, life decided to answer that riddle for you. The moment you collapsed to the ground to hurl up a thin stream of vomit. As you went through the horrid process, your tongue certainly was stained with the taste of whiskey and bile. “Er…Ma’am?”   You heard the kind man from afar once again, “Are you okay?” “Yeah, I’m good…” you said hoarsely, waving your hand with assurance,  “I’m good…I-Argh!-”

Assurance had very little battery life when you continued to vomit even more. An apt punishment for drinking two whiskeys on an empty stomach. You earned this for sure.

——————————————————

Chapter 3 HERE!

Tagged: @tealaquinn​​​ @ladyerina​​​​ @kittenlittle24 @wholesumm​​ @everyday-imfangirling​ @depressed-comrad​ @works-of-fanfiction​ @bale-is-a-babe​ @thats-aight​ @badsext​

Lemme know if you wanna get tagged.

Check My MASTERLIST for More :)