#and you couldnt even see a semblance of chest

[bookwormcosplays]

Literally have to stay away from instagram because every time I see a flat chested or small titty woman, I start crying

[bridgyrose]

Greetings and Salutations, Bridgy. If it is not too much trouble, once more do I request the next part of either transfer student, penpals, blind!weiss or guardian!heiress, whichever one you wish to write. Please, have a nice day.

Weiss raced across the rooftops as she followed Blake, cursing to herself as she tried to find Ruby. What was supposed to be a day to relax had turned into a day of trying to babysit her team and trying to get a lunch date together. Though she did have to admit, her team did seem to be a bit more capable than expected. 

Keeping up with Blake was a challenge as she watched her use her semblance to hop across rooftops more effectively while also keeping watch on the road below. Though she wasnt sure how well Blake was able to see anything on the roads, it was hard to argue that it wasnt working. 

“Rose petals to our left,” Blake said as she stopped and put a hand up. “She shouldnt be too far ahead.” 

Weiss stopped next to Blake and sighed as she watched the petals flutter in the wind. “How can you tell if they’re hers?” 

“Unlike real rose petals, hers shine in the light before they disappear.” 

“And you can tell from up here?” 

“Of course. My eyesight is better than- you’re going to have to trust me on this. I’ve spent a year with Ruby, I know how things look for her.” 

“Fine,” Weiss said as she rolled her eyes. “I’ll trust you on this. So which way now?” 

Blake scanned the streets as she looked out over the city and started heading in the direction she saw more petals come from. “This way!” 

Weiss nodded and used her glyphs to keep up with Blake, still not quite sure how Blake was tracking Ruby. It was hard enough to see the rose petals even with them glittering in the sun, but being able to tell where they were coming from in a busy city like this? That would take more than just being able to see well. 

Still, she continued to follow Blake through the city until, finally, Ruby could be seen running through the street, using her semblance to weave through the crowds. Weiss stopped for a moment when she saw a flash of green along the streets as well. But when she looked for that flash of green, all she could see was Ruby rushing out of sight. 

“Are you coming?” Blake asked as she turned around. “I thought you werent going to slow me down.” 

“Y-yeah, I’m coming,” Weiss answered back as she started to run again. 

“Good. We dont want to lose her.” 

Weiss nodded and made her way down to the streets. “You keep following from the roof, I’m going to see if I can catch her on the streets.” 

“You really think you’ll be able to follow her?” 

“No, but I think I can cut her off.” 

“I’ll call you once I catch her.” 

Weiss started to race down the street and took a side alley to try to cut off Ruby. She used her semblance to push off the wall next to her and to round the corner as fast as she could. A smile crossed her lips as she saw more rose petals in front of her, following them forward. She raced through the crowds until the rose petals finally stopped and she saw Ruby standing near the docks. 

She quickly sent a message to Yang and Blake that Ruby had been found and slowly walked over to her. “Everything okay?” 

“I… I thought I saw her,” Ruby answered as she looked at her scroll. “I saw Penny. She’s here.” 

Weiss looked at her curiously. “Your missing teammate Penny?” 

“Yes!” 

“Are you sure you’re not seeing things?” 

Ruby glared. “Of course I’m not!” 

“I know what its like to see the people you miss.” Weiss looked away from Ruby and held her arm to her chest. Her voice cracked as she spoke and her hand started to shake. “I see the people that I care about, the ones that I couldnt save. Maybe… maybe I just want to see them smile once more or just hear them laugh again.” 

“I know I’m not seeing things. I saw her, I heard her… she was right there.” 

“Greif is powerful-” 

“Its not…” Ruby sighed and started to walk back the way she came. “Forget I said anything.” 

“Wait, Ruby.” Weiss put a hand on Ruby’s shoulder to stop her. Her fingers practically shook as she held her teammate’s shoulder and her voice started to go quiet as she spoke again. “I lost my team before I came to Beacon. I get what it means to miss the person you care about. And I… I want to help.” 

“Then help me find her.” 

“But she’s-” Weiss’s words stopped as Ruby pulled out her scroll and showed a picture of a girl with red hair running through a crowd. “Who’s that?” 

“Penny,” Ruby answered. “She was just here and I need to find her.”

[a-romantics-guide-to-life]

LIVE IN NANNY IS MY FAVORITE THING !!!! WHEN HE'S HOME YOU MAKE ENOUGH FOOD FOR HIM AS WELL WHICH IS A SHIT TON BECAUSE THAT MAN CAN EAT. HE ALWAYS THANKS YOU THEN TELLS YOU THAT YOU DON'T HAVE TO AND YOU HELP WITH HIS DAUGHTER'S HOMEWORK IF SHE'S IN SCHOOL AND ITS ALL SO DOMESTIC (him coming home from practice all sweaty...)

OUGHH AND IMAGINE YOU COULDNT SLEEP ONE NIGHT IN THE SUMMER SO YOU WERE JUST WEARING A LOOSE AND VERY FRILLY TANK TOP AND BOOTY SHORTS AND SO YOU WALKED INTO THE KITCHEN TO GET A DRINK WHEN A VERY SHIRTLESS AND SLEEPY BILLY FINDS YOU

“mr.bonney, hi, h-hello, good evening sir.” and your arm comes up to give yourself some semblance of decency as billy slides across the floor to the fridge where he takes out a beer and uses the freezer to cool his flushed face

“what’d I say bout calling me mr.bonney darlin’?” as he takes a LOOOOONG swig of his beer

“not to, sir”

“no need to call me sir, aint that much older than you”

“of course”

and that when you notice how flushed billy really is and maybe even as he drinks some beer it kinda leaks out his mouth and like your knees are just so weak already from seeing billy in all of his sleepy and toned chest glory

and then you notice his erection

[nestable]

BRING IT ON HOME NESSIAN ONESHOT

Bring it on Home to me by Sam Cooke is on of my favorite songs in the word and I highly recommend you go have a listen if you havent heard it, I promise you wont regret it. I was listening to it the other day and instantly thought of how these lyrics resonated with nessian, cassian more especially and couldn't resist writing this fic. Just a little soft, SFW, domestic Nessian. 🥺😭

"Nes." Cassian groaned as he rolled closer to her side of the bed. "Nesta?"

After being met with stark silence, Cassian outstretched his hand only for it to collapse onto cold sheets.

No Nesta, he realized with a start.

Though he and his Nesta have been mated for some months now, all of which have been without an incident, he can't help but worry.

Each night he reassures himself with the knowledge of their bond, the heat of her body pressed against his own, the words of love and loyalty she ensures he hears everyday, that she is safe and finally happy.

Not miserable and balancing on the cusp of oblivion where he found her last year. Juggling between drowning her sorrows and indulging in sub-par sex just to feel something, just to deny the connection they share because she felt that she wasnt worthy of him. No, that was all over now, but he can't help when the memories resurface.

The memory of Nesta writhing and arched in her bed as silver flames wreathed her body like a shroud. The screams of pain and anguish that left her lips only to be swallowed by starless night and Deaths flames. How the very mountain trembled beneath their feet, bracing itself for the potential explotion that Cassian could sense building up. Somehow he knew that Velaris would've been crumpled to dust that night and become a fond memory. He felt it in his gut. Just the same way he felt her night terrors take hold of her for her powers to bask in centre stage. And in the same breath, he also felt that he could stop it. Whether that was pure male arrogance or the suspicion of the bond that lay between them, that was yet to be found. And it was...the moment her powers seized in intensity when he said her name. Once, twice, just enough for Rhys to gain control and save them all.

No, he would never forget that and he'd be damned if it were to happen again and catch him in a helpless position as the first time he witnessed the extent of her power. A power that mostly returned back to the Cauldron, only to be replaced by 3 Dread troves and the Mothers favour. A different sort of threat perhaps. One sweeter, kinder, even benign from what he's witnessed.

Nesta barely speaks about the power the same way she did with her Cauldron gifts. She reassures him that these were different, these she understands and smiled every time he enquired about her connection with the Mother. He wishes to know more, his body yearns for it, but his mate has always loved surprises.

Cassian threw on a pair of his undershorts before leaving his and Nestas new room. Though the House of Wind has become their shared abode, its ill advised to walk around naked with the possibility of Azriel becoming an unwilling spectator with his prowling around the halls in the dead of night like he's been doing for the past year.

Cassian loves his brother, sometimes more than kin normally do, he believes sometimes, but he'll never forgive him for that night he ruined his birthday night when he walked in on Nesta modelling her new negligee in the library. He's never jumped from one intense emotion to another so quickly. Blinded by the red lace of her silk garments only to see red of a different kind when the blue of Azriels siphon opened the door.

The territorial male part of him nearly took over that night and he was inclined to let it ride him had Nesta not winnowed them to their room and pushed him onto the bed. The anger, the curiosity he had as to how Nesta was able to winnow around the House when no one else could were obscured then turned insignificant by the view of Nesta sitting astride on his thighs.

Cassian followed the music swimming through the hall which brought him to a new lounge area that didn't present itself in the centuries that he's been living here until Nesta inherited the place.

Many new things have made their presence known and sprung to life since Nestas made the House her home. Hidden rooms have materialized, troves have opened and a gorgeous garden has flourished on the top of the mountain. As if in preparation of someone, or little someone's who might need it.

Cassian isn't blind to the fact that the House makes things available according to Nestas hopes, dreams and wishes. All of which make Cassian excited for the future and a forever with his mate even more.

Nesta was leaning against the cream white wall that she and Cassian painted just last night, holding an A2 canvas painting in both hands. He couldn't decipher her facial expression or read some of the wild thoughts that were evidently bouncing around her head as Nesta was inclined to raising her mental walls to him when she was stressed. He'd once asked why and she told him that she didnt want to plague him with her problems. Didnt want to bother him. Little did she know that Cassian was built for her, problems and all. Nothing about Nesta could bother him. Not even the parts that bothered her.

"Hi." He whispered which startled Nesta before she composed herself. For her to be so drawn into her thoughts that she didnt notice him approaching, instantly put him on edge him.

"Hi." She said, plastering a lazy smile onto her face.

Cassian took that as an invitation to enter. His eyes swept across the room, taking in the organized clutter. From the closed boxes filling the lounge, the half hung snow white gossamer curtains blowing in from the open balcony, to the slightly dusty white marble tiles that were installed just last week.

Cassian was a bit skeptical when Nesta told him of her plans to decorate this room in all white. White cushions, white couches, white walls, white flower arrangements, white chandeliers and white fur carpets felt like a fever dream to Cassian, but now that it's all coming to life, he can see the vision of beauty that Nesta had in mind. A vision not only limited to this lounge but the entire House of Wind that Nesta will decorate herself with the input of the House itself to revitalize the place. All of which will be paid for by Rhys.

How the Cauldron matched him to such a female, not mere female but god, he'll never know. All he can do is be grateful and work to be worthy and deserve the gift to draw breath in her presence.

Now that Nestas accepted her Human emissary role and is the courts newly appointed courtier, she's recieving the same fat salary like the rest of the IC, but Cassian doubts that Rhysand will ever let Nesta access her funds because he insists on paying for everything for her. Which goes to show that Rhys' gratitude for Nesta runs very far. Or guilt, or both.

What Nesta did for Feyre, Nyx and Rhys was something that couldnt be described with words. She saved their lives and in doing so the entire court. Rhys failed to tell his family about him and Feyres decision and never left a plan of action to follow after his death. Had he died, the role of High Lord could've fallen to anyone. Probably Keir or one of Mors detestable brothers because they are Rhys closest male blood relatives. What they would've done to Velaris, done to the entire court....Cassian seldom contemplates that. Nestas sacrifice and mercy saved them all and in doing so, opened herself to a higher form of being that is yet to be seen.

"What are you doing up so late?"

"I had a lot on my mind. I couldn't sleep so I decided to come and get this room in order." She explained, flipping her golden brown hair over her shoulder.

"What's been on your mind?" Cassian asked casually, taking a step closer.

He'd have embraced her and held her against his chest if it weren't for the massive painting in her hands. A painting that he can feel is the source of all her trepidation.

Nesta bit her lip before turning the canvas toward him and placing it in his hands. "Feyre finally finished that and it was delivered yesterday afternoon. I was too afraid to open it then- but I figured that I wouldn't be able to sleep until I saw it."

At first glance, anyone would assume that the muse was Nesta. From the steel eyes to the clear skin and poise in the pose. But upon further inspection, the age of the woman, the beauty spot beneath her right eye and slight darker tresses reveals the truth.

"This is your mother..." Cassian said lowly. The weight of the image, not the canvas itself but the obvious memories, pain and loss the painting held settled on him.

"Was." She uttered a bit sharply. Her throat bobbing up and down.

Cassians eyes darted between Nesta and the painting. Surprise and admiration pouring into him in droves. Her sisters did mention more than once that Nesta is their mothers spitting image, but this...it was as though the same person had been born twice.

"You stole her whole face." He chuckled, bringing a sweet curve to Nestas lip.

"I know...I know." She shrugged.

Cassian lay the painting carefully against the wall then wrapped his arms around his mates shoulders. Her own found their home around his waist as she rested her chin atop his chest so that their eyes could meet.

If it were a few months ago, a year, she would've furiously blinked away the tears that have settled in her eyes, or rejected their proximity entirely. Only to retain a semblance of control that shes strived so hard to maintain. But now shes opened herself to him entirely. Made him a part of both her happiness and pain, loss and gain, victories and failure. Just as their mating vows ordered.

"Talk to me." He whispered, dragging his fingers through her hair.

"I- I just...I know that my mother was not the best of mothers, nor did she love us in the ways that a mother should but....but that doesn't make me love her any less. She might've trained me instead of raised me, saw me as a ticket to wealth and leisure or lived vicariously through me but she was still my mother." Her tears fell down her cheeks as if a damn had been broken. "There were good moments as well as bad and I'm not going to pretend that she was never loving or good to me. Elain and Feyre might've forgotten her, but I can't... I wont."

Cassian lowered his head to press soft kisses to her cheeks where her tears left stains. "I know." He murmured. "You dont share the same memories as Elain and Feyre, it's only natural that you saw her much differently and remember her in a better light than they do." He rubbed feather light circles on the back of her neck in an attempt to assuage her from her pain.

"It broke my heart when I walked through Feyres house that day and didn't see a piece of myself or her. It felt like I was being erased, forgotten. Now I've found my place in that hall but she hasn't. I couldn't allow that to happen. I couldn't let her be erased just like that."

"And she wont be, not if you will it. I'll remember her with you." Cassians lips found Nestas and before they knew it, the couple found themselves descending into a deep kiss that only a mating bond could conjure.

"You know that's one of the reasons I love you?" He stated, to which Nesta replied with a raised brow. "Your compassion, your massive heart, your loyalty... these are all qualities that you motivate me to pursue everyday. You've kept your soft side hidden for a long time and now we're starting to see it." She smiled. By far the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. "That sweet love. Just bring it on home to me."

A giggle was shared between them as soon as the words left his mouth. The lyrics of a song, their song, that came on the day of their mating ceremony that they had on repeat for 2 hours straight. Cassian had never heard a song that spoke to him and his experience with love the way that one did. One that Nesta knew would speak to his very marrow and chose not to warn him in advance, only to see his reaction.

"You're insufferable." She said, only to hug him tighter and lay her head on his chest.

"Well then you're going to have to get used to it, Nes. We only have forever left together."

Just when Cassian expected Nesta to respond, the soft melody of a piano begun in the corner of the room from Nesta symphoniam, followed by the ever true lyrics that might've been written for them, that might as well have been their wedding and mating vows.

If you ever change your mind

About leaving, leaving me behind

Baby, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Nesta begun the dance. Cassian followed with no hesitation. Though it was a far cry from the pulsating waltz they'd done in Hewn city or other court events thereafter. It was far more intimate, passionate. Just a sway of the hips and foot movements that reforged and strengthened the golden bond that surged through them on Winter Solstice and polished it to a shimmer. Their bond was not a mere tether, not a chain. It was a rainbow. Shimmering through storms and sunny days. It didnt only make its presence known or surge when they were in the throes of passion, it became more sentient when they were upset with each other. It was the musical and colourful road that led mate back to mate. Self back to self.

I know I laughed when you left

But now I know I only hurt myself

Baby, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

His heart cracked at the words and the truth they carry. The memories when they were so at odds with each other that they could barely be in the same room longer than necessary. The nights when he thought the immense sadness and grief at the prospect of losing her entirely would drown him and suffocate him. When he wished that he could rip his heart out of his chest only to get a reprieve from his anguish. Anguish he attempted to expunge with throwing himself into work and training only to realize that the further they moved from one another, the further they moved from themselves.

As if Nesta could hear and feel those memories, she held onto him tighter. This female, his tether to reality, his anchor, the tree that was able to weather a thunderstorm that left the land decimated only to come back and continue to grow with fruits and flowers on display for all to see.

I'll give you jewellery and money, too

That ain't all, that ain't all I'll do for you

Oh, if you bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Cassian knew that from the moment he met Nesta, there was nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for her. Nothing too out of reach that if she should request, he would give. He was already hers in mind, body and soul. Their bond might've snapped into being after she emerged from the cauldeon, but the draw he felt toward her was infinite. Like their souls were made from the same essence but placed on earth in different time periods so that they know life without the other, to appreciate being together more.

You know I'll always be your slave

'Til I'm buried, buried in my grave

Oh honey, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Cassian held up Nestas hand so that he may look upon the wedding and mating band. She requested that she have both and went to the best jeweler in Velaris to fuse both choices so that they sit as one on her finger. Both were made of rose gold, the slimmer wedding ring was imbued with three tanzanite diamonds and the larger mating band sports just one giant diamond that would need it's own security team. Cassian knew his mate loved nice things and made him pay a pretty penny to get it. He'd do again if only to see the stars that twinkled in her eyes when they chose the bands at the jeweler.

He looked at his own jeweled finger. A simple silver band that stood out more than he expected it to. He wanted to get black carbon fiber but Nesta threatened not to speak to him again if he had. Now he can't stop looking at it. He loves how it makes an appearance even though he's bedecked in full illyrian armour. He'll never forget the swell of pride he felt when his soldiers eyes zoned in on the piece of metal that could've easily been obscured by the red siphon that rests atop his hand, but chose to stand out and make its presence known. A symbol of his immature bachelorhood dead and gone, giving life to a new stage in his life. A stage he's waited for longer than he cares to admit.

He remembers using the word 'shackled' when describing his mating bond with Nesta when he was upset with her, but now that word seems appropriate. If the pieces of metal sitting on their matching fingers are the shackles of which he spoke, then he'd wear his shackles with pride.

One more thing

I tried to treat you right

But you stayed out, stayed out at night

But I forgive you, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Cassian rarely thinks about the time they spent apart. When resentment, self punishment and grief pulled them apart only because those memories are nothing in comparison to the centuries he spent without her.

Living life believing the words of the ignorant and seeing oneself as a inferior and undeserving of the love that he relishes in now. The love that has somehow wiped away centuries of self hate and lack of self awareness. He figures that the reason why he used to be the first to throw himself into deadly missions were all desperate plea to prove himself, to put it into stone that he isn't a mere worthless bastard but is someone worthy of respect. But now his outlook has completely shifted. He is no longer living only for himself, but for another. He remembers the blind terror he felt when he thought that Nesta was swallowed by the black water in the Bog, or how she screamed when she thought that she lost him on Mount Ramiel.

He doesnt want either of them to go through that again. To be without the other. To feel that their very heart was ripped out of their chest, when both had taken permanent residence in the other.

He saw how Feyre reacted when Rhys died, and heard when Rhys screamed when Feyre was on deaths doorstop. The mere thought of Nesta experiencing that pain or him has softened his daring heart.

He will live, he will love and he will do it with Nesta in his arms.

As the song drew to a close, Nesta shifted from her position on his chest, too look upon him again. She brought her slim fingers to his cheeks and smiled. "Forever."

He could offer nothing but the same. A truth that had been both a promise and a prayer from the moment they met, "Forever."

Tag: @bakingandbooks3 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @arinbelle @silvernesta @darklobe @haepaw @carlieg20 @illyrianshadowhunter

[gingerwritess]

Okay here me out tho. What if reader dies when the twins are given birth. Twins survive but mother’s gone

THIS IS AN AU. A FUCKING U. I JUST COULDNT HELP MYSELF.

ok this has birth, death, knives, mentions of suicide, overall angst

you’ve been warned

ps don’t let me write while i’m on my period oh my go s h was i craving pain or what

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

You’re good at giving birth, by this point.

You don’t scream so much anymore, and by the fourth kid, it’s over in a heartbeat with little more than a good punch in the stomach.

The twins don’t cry.

That should’ve been the first sign that something was wrong.

Loki’s a bit more concerned with the fact that they were born blue—he hadn’t even touched them yet.

It’s too quiet in the grand bedroom. A couple healers clean up, washing the silent newborns and choosing to keep quiet about the fact that they’re clearly not aesir, and you sink back into your pillows.

Loki’s staring at his two baby boys.

“You look so surprised,” you whisper, but he doesn’t move—maybe he didn’t hear you. “Every time this happens, you act like you didn’t expect this.”

Still doesn’t move.

You feel empty. Something’s missing; certainly the two children that spent the past nine months in your stomach, but something more.

“Just hoping.”

Loki reaches around the healer washing the last of the two and gently presses his thumb to the ridges on the baby’s forehead.

“I had hoped, with these two.”

It’s a disembodied sensation, and you decide not to answer. There’s no point in answering; he doesn’t get any better. Each child, every time you reassure him of his uniqueness, it only lasts for a couple days.

The hatred is beaten, cut into him. You don’t blame him.

“Why aren’t they crying?”

“They seem to be extremely at peace,” one of the healers quietly answers, wrapping each baby in a snug blanket. “As I’m sure you already felt, your majesty.”

Loki nods and takes the first little bundle, tucking him in the crook of one arm. “I don’t know why. This should be immense stress on them, being thrown into a new world.”

“I can’t tell exactly why either,” the healer smiles, handing Loki the other baby. “But they seem to have found immediate peace with their surroundings.”

“Maybe it’s just...just ‘cause they’re born here,” you yawn, struggling to lift a hand to wave around the room. Your limbs are suddenly impossibly heavy—must just be the exhaustion.

Yes, it’s only the Asgardian air. Maybe your body still adjusting to a new realm—even though it’s been almost three years—or even the waves of divinity starting to be put into place.

Your body hadn’t taken well to the fruit in the first place, trying to vomit immortality right back out of your stomach. Such unnatural gifts, trying to change the course of human nature, trying to alter the cycle of your human life, you can’t reach it without some tribulation.

It’s still wrong, to try and make you live an extra five thousand years.

“I think the apples are working,” you grit out, struggling to sit up and reaching for your newborns. “I don’t feel so connected to my body anymore.”

Loki turns to blink at you, head tilting ever-so-slightly. “That’s...good.”

The healer doesn’t say anything, just keeps her head bowed and slips out the door.

“Does this feel weird to you?” Head suddenly filling with fog, you lower yourself back onto the pillows with a wince. “Why aren’t we ecstatic?”

“I’m overjoyed,” Loki smiles. It looks pained.

He presses a kiss to each of their blue foreheads and hands the twins to you, tucking them securely by your sides before leaning down to meld his lips into yours, a hand cradling your cheek.

They’re beautiful, two beautiful, blue babies, undoubtedly red eyes closed in a peaceful sleep as they breathe softly.

“We got our twins,” you whisper with a smile, gazing down at them before glancing back up at Loki. “We’ve got four kids, my king.”

“And a kingdom to rule.” He shakes his head with a quiet laugh. “I doubt I’ll even manage to have any power within the palace.”

Your laugh morphs into a yawn, throat cracking as your eyes drift shut.

“Wake me up when it’s time to feed them,” you mumble, cradling them closer to your chest. “Can’t keep my eyes open.”

“Sleep, my love.” He presses his lips to yours once more, a truer smile tugging at the corners. “You deserve a lifetime of rest, after all you’ve done.”

Two hours later the twins start squirming, red eyes opening and soft gurgles rousing Loki from his own rest.

“Darling.” He leans over and kisses you, thumb slowly stroking over your cheek. “You’re being summoned.”

You don’t move, and Loki tries again, feeling horrible for having to wake you in the first place. You haven’t slept this well in months.

The heavy wooden door creaks open and two tired pairs of eyes peek in, glittering with excitement.

“Dad?”

“Come meet your brothers,” Loki calls out quietly, a finger to his lips before pointing at your still form and waving his two other kids into the room.

Stumbling over each other to get to the bed first, Frigg prevails and clambers over you with an excited squeal, grinning down at the two little babies between you and Loki.

“Hello, babies,” she whispers in awe, brushing a finger along each of their tiny blue noses. “I’m Frigg. What’re their names, daddy?”

“We haven’t fully decided yet.” Loki picks one of them up with a grin, planting a soft kiss on his cheek before handing him to Elliot. “We’ll choose the names for certain once your mother wakes.”

“They’re blue,” Elliot points out in a hushed voice. “Are they always blue?”

“Born that way and stayed that way, so far.”

“Adorable,” he grins, hugging the baby tight against his chest.

“Can’t mommy wake up already? I want to name them!”

Shushing Frigg with a laugh, Loki places a hand on your shoulder and gently calls out to you.

No response.

Distracted by the babies, Frigg doesn’t see Elliot’s excited expression fall like a stone through water.

“Dad.”

Something is wrong. Something just spilled over, upset the balance in Elliot’s uneasy soul.

Something is very, very wrong, and Loki’s only cradling your cheek and gazing down at your sleeping form in pure adoration.

“Dad,” he repeats, panic starting to tinge the edges of his voice. “Dad, I don’t think she’s okay.”

“She’s just given birth,” Loki reassures his son, but his hand slips to your neck, thumb moving to find your pulse point. “She’s well beyond tired, after what these two did to h—”

His voice dies in his throat.

After what these two did to you? What exactly...did they do to you?

The world goes silent, dull, the golden lights in the room appearing to pulsate.

Elliot’s blinking, a deafening thud of skin on skin and drops clinging to his eyelashes, and Frigg says something he can’t hear.

“Get out.”

His lips moved, sound came out, but Loki can’t hear himself speak.

“Get out, both of you.”

Judging from the way Frigg flinched, he figures he shouted that time.

Loki’s kids scramble to their feet, set the babies back on your bed, and run out the door before he’s realised he’s standing.

You’re cold.

For the first time in the entirety of your life together, you are cold.

“Say something,” he snaps, staring at your body.

A quiet gurgle bubbles from one of the twins’ throats.

“You.”

He knows there’s no point speaking to them. Alive for less than a day, and he’s talking like they understand.

“You killed my wife.”

The twins gaze up at him, red eyes having never shed a tear and blue skin free from any stain.

He just needed to hear it said aloud.

They’re at peace. They found immediate peace with their surroundings.

“You took everything.”

Red eyes blink, tiny blue mouths yawn.

“You took her life, so you could find peace,” he hisses, dropping to his knees. “You split her in two.”

Loki refuses to accept it, but it does make some semblance of sense.

They’re already split, divided in two since the day they were conceived, two different beings trying to fuse together into one.

A half-life thanks to him, further divided when one became two.

These twins needed you, they needed more than your body could provide—only one-fourth of their entire essence actually came from him.

That leaves you to give them every drop of living power your mortal existence could create. Every breath went to them.

Loki swallows thickly, tears freezing over on his skin and shattering with the movement of every muscle.

Every ounce of immortality you’d gained went to them.

He’d tried to extend your life and his children had taken it for themselves.

“You killed my wife,” he whispers again, dragging himself to heavy feet. “You killed my wife. You killed my wife.”

The door swings open and Thor rushes in, the tearstained faces of Elliot and Frigg not daring to peek past the doorway.

Thor stops in his tracks.

Standing over your dead body, his brother is practically chanting, a man possessed as he stares at the two newborn babies bundled on the bed beside you.

“You killed my wife. Y-you killed my wife. You killed my wife. You killed m—”

“Loki.”

His gaze snaps up to meet Thor’s, and a glint of metal in Loki’s hand makes the god lunge forward and tackle him to the ground.

“Let me—”

“NO,” Thor shouts, grabbing the knife from Loki’s hand and hurling it across the room. “You’re not in your right mind, DO NOT KILL THESE CHILDREN—”

“LET ME GO,” Loki nearly screams, thrashing under his grip, fingers scrabbling for his knife again. “LET ME GO, JUST—JUST—”

His voice cracks into incoherent sobs and Frigg runs away from the doorway, having seen and heard plenty.

“Just let me die,” Loki whispers hoarsely, giving one last attempt to throw Thor off of him before going limp on the ground. “I’ve tried so many times. That knife was for me. Just let me die.”

“No.” Thor’s breathing heavily, still pinning Loki’s arms to his sides.

“Please.”

“No,” he repeats, stronger this time. “You have four children who love you. Who need you. You have a kingdom that depends on you, that looks to you as their king.”

“I have no wife,” Loki rasps, starting to struggle again. “I have no love, no wife, no love left in my life—”

“Dad.”

It’s a small voice, timid but sure.

“Please stay.” Elliot crouches by his side, nodding at Thor to release his hold on him. “Now we...we don’t have a mother.”

Loki’s body falls slack, silence fills the room for a moment, then he dissolves into sobs.

Gut-wrenching, soul-crushing sobbing, messy and wet and Elliot grabs him, wrapping his arms around his neck and hugging him tighter than he’s ever been able to before.

“She gave me everything,” Loki chokes, clutching at his son’s shirt. “Everything I have, it’s her’s, I don’t—”

“It’s yours, dad, she gave it to you for a reason. Don’t throw us away. Please.”

“I won’t,” he promises, trying to convince himself, “I won’t.”

Several minutes pass locked in their embrace until Loki takes a shuddering breath and lets go, trying his best to compose himself.

“Don’t hide this,” Elliot whispers, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand. “That’s too much to keep inside.”

Loki nods, gulping in air and shakily letting Thor help him to his feet. “F-Frigg?”

“Ran away when she saw the knife.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers in horror. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t—not them, no, no, me...”

Elliot gives him a sad, ready smile and shrugs. “Might want to tell her that.”

He nods furiously, taking a few unstable steps towards the bed. Next to your body, the two newborn twins are blinking, skin still glowing that bright blue.

And even still, through all that just happened, not a single tear has fallen from those crimson eyes.

They have you.

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

hope you enjoyed, please reblog and feel free to send me ideas!

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[ayatosama]

the fueguchi files

chapter: one

pairing: ayahina

chapter word count: 1321

total word count: 1321

summary: Hinami Fueguchi is a celebrated detective working directly under Eto Yoshimura, one of the most prolific detectives of their generation. The only thing standing in her way from reaching her goal is her own human limitations. Enter Ayato Kirishima, a young cop looking to make detective. He’s placed under Hinami’s guidance in order to get his detective shield and ease Hinami’s work load. The two start off as polar opposites, sun and moon. But something begins to work between them, bringing Hinami closer to that one thing she can’t seem to reach. That one case that eludes her. 

based on this headcanon by @takatsukkis

Coffee. That’s what Hinami needed right now. Despite having solved a case just mere hours ago another one had landed on her desk.

“You’re the best Hina” her superior said as he dropped the very thin file onto her desk. The size of the file told her enough about the case.

Maybe she’d need some espresso in her coffee. The coffee machine was a very old model and the lines of coffee made in the past still clung to the glass pot. Like rings of tree telling you how long it’s been alive. Telling Hinami how many tired detectives had clung to this pot for some semblance of sanity. She was just another ring in this pot.

“Hina, what a great solve” Eto, her captain, pulls her in for a hug. Eto always smelled like cigarettes and lilacs. Hinami found it soothing.

“Thanks captain.”

“Listen, I know you’ve been working so hard —.”

Hinami cuts in not desiring to hear how she needs a break: “Captain, I’m totally fine.”

“I’m not taking you off the case” She says with a laugh. Eto laughed like she was the only one in the world in on a joke. Everything about Eto seemed secretive and out in the open at the same time.

“Well you sound like every other person in this office who thinks I need a break.” Hinami let out a breath. She had heard from other higher ranking detectives that she needed to slow down. But she couldnt...not just yet...not till —

“Oh I think you do, but that’s not what I was gonna tell you”

“Oh?”

“We’re transferring in a rookie to work under you, and mostly assist you.”

“Why?”

“Well he wants to be detective so think of it like training.”

“Isn’t that more work?”

“He’s mostly here to follow you around and do the monotonous stuff you don’t have time for.”

“Captain… I don’t —”

“Your hand is shaking from the copious amount of caffeine pumping through you.” She points out. Hinami hadn’t even realized her hand was trembling. So maybe she did need some help.

“I guess, we’ll will he be here in enough time for the case I just got?”

She nods, “he should be here in the hour.”

Hinami smiles as she watches Eto walk away into her office. But the smile falls flat. Her muscles too tired to even keep a smile on her face. Maybe...maybe a quick nap while she waits for the rookie to get here.

Yeah. Then a fresh start after with some much needed help.

—

Detective Hinami Fueguchi Cracks Triple Homicide

Ayato first thinks of crumpling the newspaper and tossing. Then he considers reading through to hear more about her.

Hinami Fueguchi, twenty year old detective star. Modern day Sherlock Holmes. Certificated golden child of Eto Yoshimura, the best detective this city has seen in years.

Ayato was a jealous man. Half of him angry at this girl for being higher ranked them him and younger. Half of him...proud? Enamored? Intrigued at the very least.

The cigarette in his hand was done so he tossed it on the sidewalk. He was supposed to be at the precinct in a half hour.  

Maybe I’ll pick her up a coffee, start off on the right foot.

—

Taking a nap on the break room couch was the worst idea Hinami had ever had. She woke up with a throbbing, deep kind of pain in her neck. And every time she turned her neck she felt that pain traversing down her whole body. She also could tell her hair was sticking up at an odd angle. She ties her hair up to avoid having to find that brush she hasn’t seen in months.

Exhaustion still weighs heavy on her. Though at least now she could keep her eyes open. As she’s heading out of the break room to her desk she collides with someone, as if gravity had pulled her that way for a reason.

Iced coffee splashes all over her blouse. Red splashes all over her cheeks. She steps back and grumbles at the feeling of the sticky syrup coating her skin and blouse. She’d have to go home and shower now. Before she glances up to see who ran into her a thought crosses her mind that it was Eto forcing her to leave the office by spilling the coffee.

She looks up to see a boy about her age, maybe a year or two older. Dark hair hangs in messy layers around his angular face. His eyes are the same dark color and she feels like she’s looking at the night sky when the stars are hidden. He’s beautiful. So beautiful she thinks of actually apologizing to him for spilling his coffee. But then she remembers who she is. She was a well respected detective and she wouldn’t cater to this man; no matter how beautiful he was.

“Oh fuck me.” He says looking at what the coffee had done to her shirt. He looked only mildly annoyed.

“Eloquent.” She responds and pushes past him to go see if she had some spare clothes in her locker. She did find a shirt. Not a very nice shirt to be frank. But her old anime t-shirt was better than going all the way home. She finds herself in the bathroom now, blouse unbuttoned and wiping off the stick of sugar and syrup from her chest.

Who was that guy? He wasn’t a uniform. He couldn’t be another detective. And there was no way a civilian’s response to spilling coffee on a detective would be ‘oh fuck me’. Her nerves had her rubbing the paper towel so rough a red patch was forming on chest.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Well. That’s as clean as she was going to get without showering. The bathroom door opens and Eto steps in. Her glance is quick but Hinami knows Eto has already come up with five different scenarios that would’ve landed Hinami to be washing her chest in the bathroom. Blush creeps into her cheeks at some of the reasons she might be thinking.

“I heard you met him.” Is all she says.

“Met who?” Hinami groans. Her head ache returning with a little dose of revenge pain. All she wanted was a hot bath and a cup of tea. But she couldn’t do that. Not yet. Not till she was good enough.

“Ayato.” Eto shrugs and leans forward checking her hair in the mirror.

“When did I…” realization hits Hinami. The beautiful boy, or rather Ayato, who had spilled coffee all over her landing her in this mess. “He spilled coffee on me.”

“Better than someone else.” Eto says with a sly grin. Blush once more coats Hinami’s features betraying her thoughts. Eto laughs. “Hina, you’re so sweet. Bloody murders? Sure! Sex? Oh no cover my ears.”

“Shut it.” Hinami says. “I need to go properly introduce myself to him.” She stands up straight and marches out of the bathroom. Her pulse was skyrocketing. How was she supposed to maintain an image of dignity after he had spilled coffee all over her and caused her to rush away?

Well she was about to find out. Either way she was going to regain the advantage. She was Hinami Fueguchi, celebrated detective, and she’d be damned if this rookie cop take control. She was after all his superior.

She finds him sitting by the break room. Right where she left him. Another cup was in his hands. Did he go get her another coffee? As she approaches he looks up, their eyes meet. She wants to look away but she holds his gaze. Daring him to think of her as a coward. I am in control, she breathes in, I am in charge, she breathes out.

“Nice Naruto t-shirt Detective Fueguchi.”

All her control, any semblance of power, ashes with that comment.

[bnhascribbles]

Walls

Kirishima x Reader

Hurt/Comfort, Dialogue Prompt (47, 66)

Words: 1.1K

***Warnings: Possible abuse triggers (mentions of past abuse)!

On nights that you stayed, Kirishima watched you for longer than he’d ever admit.  He knew it was probably weird; If you ever caught him, he was pretty sure he’d die of embarrassment.  Still, he couldn’t help it.  It was strange seeing you lying there–as guarded as you usually were–caught halfway between “asleep” and “awake.”  Vulnerable; The word echoes in his ears, even though he knows you absolutely hate it, hate having any semblance of control yanked from your possession.  But when you’re facing away from him like this–baring your back, as still as a statue–it seems too fitting to brush off.  How long had it taken?  How long had it been before you’d stopped sneaking away in the dark?  Before you’d stopped flinching with every creak of the bed, stopped jumping whenever he shifted beneath the sheets?

When had you begun to trust him enough to let him past that wall of yours?  It wasn’t made of concrete or metal.  No, the barrier you’d erected was more like a thick sheet of tempered glass–transparent.  Most other people went about their lives without even noticing it was there.  “They’re just a private person,” they’d say.  “Professional.”  Kirishima could see it though; He’d smashed into it face-first too many times to count.  Introducing himself?  Thud.  Asking you out to drinks?  Thud.  Trying to learn anything more about you?  Thud.  Over the course of a year, he’d left his imprint in the layer separating you from the rest of the world.  Now, through some miracle, he’d made it to the other side.  You’d let him cross over.  Little had he known there was another wall waiting behind the first.

Kirishima loved you.  He’d been sure of that much from the first smile you’d granted him, as wary and testing as it’d been.  He’d bided his time, coming in as close as you’d allow him to, day by day.  The aching in his chest grew with every millimeter you relinquished.  Eventually, he’d found he couldn’t stand it anymore.  He’d blurted out three words, the three words that he’d only ever thought before.  You never repeated them back.  And he was fine with that.  But he still had so many questions.

Questions about the nightmares that always seemed to shake you from your sleep.

Questions about the bouts of anxiety that left you catatonic.

Questions about the sunken pink spots scattered across your back.  

Even though it was dark, even though most of them were covered by the edge of your tank top, he knew they were there.  The first time he’d been with you–really been with you–his own nervousness had kept him from focusing on much of anything.  The second time, he’d glanced at the marks in passing, noting the way the clusters almost resembled freckles–but they were too perfect, too circular, too unnatural.  The third time, his curiosity almost got the better of him; Kirishima had almost asked about them.  Almost.  The truth was, he’d known better than to do that–he’d known that you would more than likely distance yourself from him if he gave any indication that he was trying to force his way in too quickly.  More than that, the truth was, he’d learned more than a few things from working with Bakugo.

Things like the way an old burn heals over.

“I can feel you staring at me, Eijiro.”  You mumble through a drowsy haze, jolting him from his moment of reflection.

Kirishima doesn’t respond, lying there and wondering.  After a moment passes, he shimmies in closer, leaving only an inch of empty air between the pair of you.

“Just thinking.”  He mumbles, never once lifting his eyes from the curve of your shoulder, the spot where a particularly angry bunch of dots gathers along your skin.

“About what?”  You yawn, none the wiser.  

He reaches out, tracing a gentle line down the slope of your neck.  “You really wanna know?”

“Mmhm.”  It’s a sleepy sound–breathy and drawn out.  At ease.  

He hesitates, frozen for fear of ruining everything.  If nothing changed, he reasoned, then nothing could go sour.  Before he can convince himself to back down though, he grazes his fingertips over one of the scars, breathing.

“Who did this to you?”

He can feel your body go rigid the second he finishes the question.  You inhale sharply, and for a moment, he truly believes the silence will be his only answer.

“Somebody you don’t need to worry about.”  You finally respond, hushed, but sounding much more awake.  “Somebody that died a long time ago.”

Quiet returns, and the regret seeps in.  He’d pushed you away again.  Dammit.  Kirishima goes to remove his hand, to give you the space you need.

“I’m sor–”

“Don’t.”  You hiss, catching his wrist as you flip over to face him.  “Don’t you dare say it.  You have nothing to be sorry for.”  The look you shoot him is resolute–not shaken or upset, like he’d thought it would be.  “You weren’t the one that decided to use my back as your own personal ashtray.”

You watch as a quiet, seething sort of rage passes over Kirishima.  It manifests itself as tension, spanning every inch of his body.  Furrowed eyebrows, stiff muscles, downturned lips–all the nonverbal language that you knew too well.  On him though, all of it looked wrong.

“Who–”  He stops himself.  Old names were useless–fixating on the past was useless.  The future was all that mattered now.

Kirishima breathes heavily, gritting his teeth.  “I would never.”

“I know.”  You hush him, intertwining your fingers with his.  

“I’ll keep you safe.”  He clarifies.  The sheer intensity of his gaze is enough to send a wave of warmth shooting down your spine.

It wasn’t the first time he’d made that sweet, impossible promise–the same pretty lie that others had used so many times before to try and soothe your fears, end your nightmares, purchase your trust.  The difference was, with Kirishima, you really believed that he believed those words.

Maybe in time, you’d begin to believe them too.

You burrow yourself into his chest.  While you’re breathing in his scent, relishing in his embrace, one phrase reverberates through your thoughts–persistent, like a gnat that refuses to be ignored.  One phrase, composed of three short words.  Words that you’d sworn off saying so many years ago.  Words that you’d so been sure you could never profess in good faith.  Now, they just seemed to fit.  

Another day, you muse, shutting your eyes.

And just like that, Kirishima wiggles his way past another one of your walls.

[mushroomminded]

Walkman (2)

Donna confiscated Jake's walkman.

Aaron should have been satisfied by it. He should have been so happy to see that symbol of everything be could never have plucked from the fingers of his brother, but he wasn't. Deep down, he was horrified.

Ever since he could walk, Aaron had tried to take that walkman from his older brother. It was forbidden and interesting and he wanted it. But Jake had always guarded it like his life depended on it. If it wasn't secure in his backpack, it was clutched firmly in his hands, his fingers lovingly tracing the grooves on the translucent blue plastic cover as the disc inside whirled in circles, creating silent sound that always took Jake somewhere else, somewhere far away that his little brother wasn't allowed to visit. It wasn't fair.

But it was Jake's. Dinged up and old and sometimes Jake needed to give the disc inside an encouraging spin to get it going, but it was Jake's. It was his old thing and even Aaron knew that it comforted him. That's why after Jake was flown away in a haze of sirens and red and blue lights that Aaron had bent down and gathered up Jake's backpack, turning the walkman over in his hands. It was dinged and scratched and the headphones were snapped in two, but it was whole. That's why he carried it with him to the hospital every day. That's why he put it in Jake's lap and slid a crisp new pair of headphones over Jake's ear. It was supposed to make him feel better, and the look of restfulness on Jake's face when he pressed play told Aaron that it did.

It wasn't Aaron's to touch. That's why it felt so dirty when his mother dropped the walkman into his hands, the disc still spinning and warm inside and told him he could have it until Jake learned to be nice to him.

Jake hadn't fought it. How could he, in his condition? It seemed like agony for him to move, only prying himself from the bed if he absolutely had to, staggering and crying, leaning up on the wall as he moved so slowly, clutching at himself. Aaron pretended not to hear. Pretended not to notice when Jake would crawl back into bed in the room neighbouring Aaron's, sobbing in pain, the bed creaking as he tried to find some semblance of comfort. Pretending not to see when Jake quieted down, the headphones over his ears, tears spilling from his squeezed-shut eyes, breathing to the rhythm of a tune Aaron couldn't hear.

Aaron passed the newly acquired walkman from hand to hand, turning it, finding the off switch, gathering up the headphones. So long ago he would have wanted to press the phones to his ears, to find out what Jake had been hiding from him for so long, but now the thought made him sick. He glanced into the bedroom. Jake's trembling hand lifted to his chest, wrist still captive in a cast. A soft whine came from the room, stuttering, breaking, as Jake's breathing picked up.

Aaron left to his room, walkman in hand.

___

The walkman stayed on Aaron's dresser. Aaron never once touched it as it sat there, useless, the green and silver disc inside catching light and begging to be spun, but Aaron refused. He listened instead to the room behind the wall.

Jake was whimpering, gasping quietly and letting it out as a high moan. Aaron sat beside the wall, knees pulled up to his chest and listened. Part of him told himself that if Jake called for help, he would help him, but the other part knew that Jake never would. He knew what Jake knew: help wouldnt come if he did.

---

Things got worse.

Jake got up less and less, and he cried more and more. It felt like anytime Aaron was home, Jake was there in the bed, door open as always, openly sobbing to the ceiling, a harsh wail of pure agony. One time Aaron heard his mother come down the hallway and he listened, eyes transfixed on the stubborn old walkman on the dresser. He listened as Donna rebuked Jake for the noise. He listened as she called him a burden to the family, how he was keeping everyone up at night, how he should really be so grateful for how good he had it. Jake didn't cry less after that, his voice was instead just so choked that it couldnt be heard from beyond the hallway.

---

Aaron visited Jake about a week later. He'd watched him from the doorway, listened to him through the walls, but never set foot in the room since the walkman made it's home on Aaron's dresser. Aaron stood awkwardly over the bed for a moment, seemingly unnoticed by Jake until he took a seat at the foot of the bed.

"Mom..." Jake choked out, a sob welling in his throat.

"Aaron," Aaron corrected quietly.

Jake swallowed, sniffling and steadying his breath as best he could.

"Aaron," Jake repeated. Then he burst into tears.

"Why are you crying so much?" Aaron asked, his voice sounding stiffer than he intended.

"It hurts, Aaron," Jake cried quietly so not to draw the attention of his mother. "It hurts so much and I can't move."

Aaron noticed a croak in his voice, thinking at first it was from Jake crying himself out, but quickly wondering when was the last time he heard Jake get up for water.

"You didn't cry so much when you had your walkman."

It was a cruel, horrible thing to say, but Aaron had to know why.

Jake's voice cracked. "It-it helps me Aaron!" He sobbed. "I can't c-calm down without it I can't- it helps me f-forget."

"Forget what?"

"How much it hurts!" Jake's sobs got louder. Footsteps came from down the hall. Donna's short figure appeared in the doorway. She saw Jake cracking and breaking in the bed and Aaron seated awkwardly at the end. She focused on Aaron.

"Let him cry it out," she told him. "He will learn to be grateful."

Aaron nooded quietly. He stood and left, leaving Jake crying behind him.

He joined Donna in the living room. She was watching the news on television, the stories long since passed the horrifying tragedy that befell his big brother.

"I forget he's here sometimes," Donna admitted nonchalantly. "He doesn't do an inch of good for us."

"He's in pain, Mom," Aaron said quietly.

"I should hope so! He was a fool to play in traffic. Hopefully he'll learn something for once."

"He wasn't playing in traffic!" Aaron heard his voice raise after it was too late. Donna turned and looked at him sharply.

"Sorry," Aaron muttered sheepishly. Donna turned back to her viewing, mouth firmly pressed shut. Aaron poured a glass of water and went silently back up the hallway.

---

Jake's friend asked Aaron about him in school. Aaron had never met Jake's friend before and was surprised when the tall, strongly-built boy asked very quietly about his brother.

"I haven't seen him in a long time and I can't get a hold of him. He won't respond to his e-mails," the friend explained, a deep concern written on his face that Aaron was unfamiliar with.

"He's at home," Aaron admitted, "and he hasn't been doing very well."

Jake's friend's face scrunched up in such an expression of worry that it turned Aaron's heart.

"Maybe I could visit him?" The friend asked, softly, gently.

"I'd have to ask our mom."

---

Aaron came home with a small, flat box wrapped in silver-blue paper in his backpack. He stood at the threshold of Jake's room, package in hand. On the top was a white sticker that read "Get Well Soon! I Miss You! -Dan". Aaron turned it in his hands before stepping into the room. An empty water glass stood on Jake's bedside table.

"You've got a present," Aaron said softly.

Jake gave a soft hum in response, not seeming to fully process what was happening.

"From a guy named Dan."

"Dan?" Jake said, trying to lift his head. Aaron held the gift so he could see.

"I'll open it for you," Aaron said, lowering the package and peeling back a layer of the shiny paper. Inside was a brand new CD still in its case. The cover had three men Aaron didn't recognize dressed in black and dusted with golden glitter. He showed Jake the cover. Jake began to cry immediately.

"Tell him thank you for me... please," Jake managed to say.

"I will," Aaron said quietly, slipping the CD case under Jake's fingers and leaving with the wrapping paper in hand.

---

The walkman on the dresser taunted Aaron more than usual. It had gathered some dust but the reflection of the sun off the plastic still hit the wall in such a way he could never forget it was there.

Aaron thought about the CD in Jake's room. Jake had managed to open the case at some point and had oh so gently spun the disc inside and pulled the front cover out to reveal a little booklet with pictures of the band and the words to all the songs. Jake read them quietly aloud to himself, sometimes humming a little tune to go with them. Sometimes when he cried, he'd sputter out the words, gently singing himself to sleep.

It felt like a crime that disc didn't have a chance to spin.

Aaron stood in Jake's doorway once again. Jake was quiet. The booklet was back home in its case and the case was wrapped carefully in his bandaged hand. Aaron wondered vaguely how long those casts and bandages were supposed to be there. The two of them were no stranger to broken bones and it felt like it had been forever since Jake had seen a doctor.

Aaron glanced down at his hands, the old walkman in one and the neatly wound headphones in the other. He took a breath and appreached the bed.

"Jake," he said quietly, crouching beside the bed. Jake turned tiredly to face him, his face more ragged than Aaron remembered. His eyes fell to the walkman. Aaron expected a glimmer of hope in Jake's eyes but found none, only seeing exhaustion and pain as Jake looked back up at his face. Aaron's gaze dropped to the walkman as he unwound the headphones.

"I want you to listen to it," he whispered, gently placing the band over Jake's head, the padded earpieces landing over his ears. He placed the walkman on Jake's bedside table, gently setting aside a half-filled glass of water. He opened the latch on the walkman and took out the shiny silver-green disc, setting it carefully on the table. He then slid Jake's gift from Dan from his hand and opened it, placing the new CD in the player. He gave it a spin like he saw Jake do so many times before closing it and pressing play.

He heard the music fade in. Jake's eyes closed. For a moment Aaron saw his old brother. As the sounds he couldn't fully hear played into Jake's ears, a calm settled over his face. Even as tears formed and fell from the corners of his eyes as he listened, there was some kind of happiness on Jake's face that Aaron hadn't really seen before. As the song ended and the music faded out, Jake's eyes opened again, he turned to Aaron and gave something like a smile. He slowly, carefully put a hand to his ear, turning the headphone out.

"Listen with me," he said.

Aaron's heart jumped. He felt his face turn hot but he leaned in slowly until his ear touched the headphone, until his head was pressed against Jake's. Jake's eyes fell closed once more and his breathing calmed to the tune of the song. Aaron let his eyes fall shut too and he listened, for the first time in his life, to the walkman.

[flightofaqrow]

cold without you here

qrow + Qrow ( @littleblackqrow​​ )

“so... still pretty pissed at Oz, aren’t you?”

“Aren't you?"

“don’t you think Oz had bigger things on his plate to consider than just trust? so when did yours for him become so fragile?”

“When did you become so forgiving?”

“heh. when i met him.”

“ ...I dont like this place.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

freezing cold air chills even deeper than bones. there’s hollow where marrow should be; holes in the soul; a heaviness in the very air where there used to be wings which could carry him through it. qrow wanders the grounds of brunswick farms alone with nothing to distract him. the wind howls and gates whine and wooden floorboards of an old barn creak, and the snow does not fall gently from the sky. no, it whips and bites, nips and stings not unlike the great black monster in his chest, consuming from the inside out.

“so,” even a soft grate of voice echoes loudly in the confines of his own head, “still pretty pissed at Oz, aren’t you?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Arent you?” Qrow asked himself. “All that time thinking that we were doing something worthwhile. Gave him our entire goddamn life, and he couldnt even be honest that anything was ever being accomplished. Raven was right, that insufferable bitch.” 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“harsh. but you’re not wrong. she was right. and maybe the work amounted to a whole lot of nothin’ so far, but tell me …what would have been the alternative?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“When I figure that out, I’ll let you know.” Qrow sighed heavily, and had the strong urge to hug himself. It just felt so cold to be this disconnected from everything he’d built his life on, and he couldn't help but wonder if it’d just be worth it to give up. “Oz just used us though. Didn't he? He spent all that time saying he trusted us but he really just was stringing us along.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“don’t… don’t do this. you always do this. don’t separate your logic and your heart.”

it wouldn’t feel so cold if there hadn’t been warmth there in the first place.

“okay, yeah, he lied. and kept secrets. but did it feel like being used at the time? did he ever seem so motivated by selfishness to you?” he takes a moment to quite literally stroke his own ego, “…you and your undeniably sharp-even-when-dulled-by-the-liquor observations and instincts? it’s never been about that kind of petty shit with him, you know that. you knew you were signing up to be part of the major league players here. don’t you think Oz had bigger things on his plate to consider than just trust?

so when did yours for him become so fragile?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“When did you become so forgiving?” he asked with a bitter laugh. “Oz knew all of this was pointless. He set us up with a good life, and for what? To watch Salem inevitably hack away at it? Raven’s gone, Summer’s dead, the girls aren't even old enough to drink yet and they’re out here fighting for their lives and with their own battle wounds already. If we’d never been a part of this to begin with, maybe we’d be better off.” He didn't really believe that, but now that doubt had been planted.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“heh. when i met him. and Summer. they practically taught us how. don’t you remember? no, you conveniently forget because it hurts. but you want reasons, that’s fair. we can come back to that.”

his mind is spinning too fast again. spiraling. slow it down. it feels oddly slower already, even before the usual amount to drink… anyway.

“back to logic, then. like i asked before: what is the alternative? you have… whatever it is you want. you’re at the tribe with Raven. you’re in patch with Summer. your nieces are running around in a vast green meadow squawking like nevermores with too much energy and no direction because they’re not training for any fight. you all live in blissful ignorance. you don’t have to think about Salem, but guess what? she’s still out there, and she’s still closing in. think about it, man! that way you’re… doing what? you’re protecting what? sounds like you have just as much to lose either way, the landscape just looks different.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“What’s the point of all this anyways?” he asked himself, not quite knowing where it was coming from. Despite his semblance, and despite everything that he’d gone through, Qrow had never actually contemplated giving up before. But he couldnt quite shake the feeling of its not worth the struggle, join these other poor souls who’ve already let it all go.

He needed a drink. Maybe then those sorts of thoughts would stop plaguing him.

“She cant be stopped. The Relics arent the answer, and neither are the Maidens. What did we give up so much of our life for if there’s no end goal?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

qrow has to admit to himself, it rings of truth in even in the scenario he just painted. always everything to lose, but a thousand different ways. his heart hurts. his head hurts. he’s tired. no choice seems to make a difference. no choice matters. he doesn’t have much of an answer for that one, just more muddy thoughts.

he presents the biggest dilemma of all, one everyone must face sooner or later. but still coaxing, leading, as gentle as that voice (beaten to shreds from screaming and crying out and burning his throat his whole damn life) can phrase. it is not a statement, nor concession. it is still a question, in want of an answer. even if he is not yet ready to find it.

“Salem or no Salem, what was ever the point of life if it just ends in death?”

but saying it is so hard. thinking about it is so hard. trying is so hard. he is tired, cold, and it is getting dark. he has to share his headspace with too many memories, and the sight of so many people he found in these buildings who look so disgustingly peaceful having laid down and given up, and too many encroaching shadows.

“…especially one as pathetic as yours.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“… My life’s never been that important. Especially not since the girls were born. Pathetic doesn't even begin to cover the bullshit we’ve been through.” Another outbuilding another set of corpses. At least Qrow had taken this responsibility on himself. The kids didn't need to see this, the didn't need to see the futility of everything they were doing in high def.

Again, dark thoughts seemed to press in with the shadows from sunset. He shivered, wondering why it still seemed so cold despite his aura being active. “I don't like this place. Something is super fucking wrong, even without the fact there’s no real reason these people should have died.” You cant leave, you cant struggle out there in the snow, the kids would never make it. Stay here, alone… No one will think to look for the Relic in such an isolated spot…

“… I don't like feeling like something is waiting to ambush us.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“…and yet you’re still here. hm.”

cold, slow, dark, tired. just like these bodies. it would be so very easy to join them. everything fades away, it is all just a matter of time. …and how much energy gets wasted in the meantime. that still sounds like a pretty good way to kill time until morning, too.

“something’s always wrong. something’s always waiting. especially with that relic around. what are you going to do about it?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

For a moment, the desire for self-preservation flared up in Qrow. If something felt off to him now, then he had to check every nook and cranny just to make sure that’s all it remained. A feeling.

There had to be some sort of correspondence laying around. Some sort of hint as to what happened at this farm. What Qrow ended up finding was an advertisement for the Brunswick Wine Cellar.

“Suppose we could drink until the feeling goes away. Its probably nothing.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

of course a farm would have a wine cellar. probably stocked to the nines too. feelings and intuitions are different, though. intuitions don’t drown as easily. but eventually…

“that would make it feel warmer for sure, huh?”

this is the last building on the farm. a wild goose chase, as everything, so far. dead bodies everywhere, lives gone for no purpose at all. but is it meaningless? there must be something. is it ever quite worth finding?

“don’t forget the kids are waiting for a report.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Alcohol is probably in the main house anyways. Wouldn't want just anyone to have access to it.” Qrow mused, and before he turned away from the last corpse, he sighed. “Poor bastards. Wonder if anyone else will ever come by here.” He looked around once more, marveling at how pristine the farm was. Aside from the disuse, everything looked like it was waiting for the farmstead to wake up and get back to work.

“Surprised the Tribe or some other scavenger group hasn't come through here already. There’s lien even if they didn't take the equipment with them.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“hm.” as if anyone besides himself would care about the wine. they knew better.

the bitter conditions outside wouldn’t even allow for a proper burial. but maybe that was for the best. to simply let time stop and drift away, safe in bed, asleep, not being a burden to anyone in life, death, or beyond… never having to worry about carrying the pain or inflicting it on anyone else ever again.

everything feels tight and heavy and choking. qrow has to fight to even pay that much attention to his surroundings.

“yeah, that’s odd alright. but counterpoint - the picture’s all wrong to be inviting, no matter the loot. we don’t even want to be here.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“There’s still food in the cupboards, and all of these bodies just laying around.” Qrow insisted. the feeling of something wrong pressed on him, able to keep the thoughts of whats the point? at bay for just a little while longer. “You’d think that scavenger animals would have been through here, but there isnt even mouse droppings on anything.”

Nothing but layers of dust and some cobwebs. Qrow didnt think he’d ever been somewhere that had just turned into a vacuum before. “… If the storm lets up, we should leave at first light. The less time we’re here the better.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“not even dead animals along with the people. yeah, the answers have to be back at the house, if there are any.”

he definitely hadn’t seen anything like this. and usually new places were exciting. this, though, this is just exhausting. food, drink, people… anything was starting to sound better than being in the middle of all this by himself and fading.

“agreed. at some point, maybe we should scrounge some of those supplies you were talkin’ about. but… later.” ugh, even any points he could find hardly felt worth acting on.

[swampgallows]

i just woke up, it’s close to noon here, five hours is good enough i guess. i keep thinking about college and how fucking suicidally depressed i was then and how ive spent half of this year being unemployed and generally just struggling to take care of myself in the most banal and basic ways possible, and how depression really does just delete years from your life. you live through them in a daze,  you’re already a ghost, you’re already dead. questing in wrath of the lich king is honestly some of the last shit i remember concretely before going into a two year gray area of passing my classes and nothing else. i remember breaking up with my boyfriend because he chose raiding over me. i dont want to talk about it again. the memory is still painful. still, even still, ten years later. and in late 2008 i was attacked in my dorm room and i was screaming and my roommates thought i was being a big ol slut. they thought any guy that came over was someone i was fucking. when i went to blizzcon in 2008 and my brother stayed in my dorm they thought i was fucking him too until i told them he was my little brother. they tried so fucking hard to suppress my interests and make me “like them”. “there’s more to life than world of warcraft and pokemon” they said as if going to college basketball games and rewatching disney movies has any more enrichment or depth beyond what i was fucking doing. my life is so full of hatred, from myself, from other people, just being fostered in me in general, and it’s only within the last few years that i’ve gotten to heal from it at all, all the time being hurt more and more

i was talking to a friend yesterday who is just 19 and thinking about where i was when i was 19, which of course puts me in 2009 again, the year i dropped out of existence, and i was telling them about how i was essentially raised by the ilk of 4chan and the piece of shit community on wow that, like, since i’m around ~liberal genderqueer~ tumblr-type spaces all the time, genuinely shocks me to remember still exists, of those fucking hypermasculine overcompensating military dudes. and we were talking about how like, nerds in general tend to have shit social skills or anxiety or are Othered in ways that have them reinforce this piece of shit pecking order where the loudest and meanest proclaim themselves the Leader and everyone just follows them because theyre too meek to challenge them or they mistake arrogance for confidence and assume any asshole crowing that loud about how Right they are all the time Must Be Right. 

and i thought of my own life, my ex QP, my old friend groups, my abusive ex boyfriend, how i mistook so long their malice as strength, how i was duped by their self-aggrandizement. they had no skills, no talents, no girlfriend (except when i dated them), no women in their lives in general, no real friends they could count on (except, for my abuser, an older man with 3 children and a brand new divorce whose house he muscled and manipulated himself into—”i cant even bear to be in the old master bedroom anymore”—and my abuser promptly MOVED HIMSELF INTO IT) no hobbies, and the one or two hobbies that they had—fishing, video games—they were fucking less-than-passable at. my ex-qp wasn’t good at video games. he would use cheat codes or just play the strongest character and rely on everyone else to pick up his slack. warrior, carry, tank, what have you; all of us his underlings to support him to victory—”I’m doing all of the damage and getting none of the kills”—he would whine, oblivious to the concept of teamwork and seeking credit within the only realm he had a semblance of succeeding in. 

anyway so when i first joined tumblr i swung the pendulum in the other direction because i absolutely had to, it was for my survival to become a virulent feminazi as they put it, and i was obnoxious about it, and i reposted rape statistics all the time and challenged people all the time because i had to. i had to let it overtake me in order to purge all of the 10+ years of toxic social conditioning that places like 4chan and their little infestations in WoW and all of my abusive partners instilled in me. i had to be vocal about rape this and sexual assault that because i spent the better part of my adolescence trying to laugh away the fact that i was raped as a child, trying to make jokes about my “delicious flat chest” and pedobear and “surprise buttsecks/it’s not rape if you yell surprise” and “delicious loli”; some of the images i had willingly saved on my ancient hard drive are absolutely harrowing to go through now as an adult knowing my mushy impressionable 14 year old traumatized mind was trying to cope with and gloss over what had happened to me and with the future i was facing as a budding adolescent in this kind of environment. men didnt want to be responsible for what happened to me or with what would happen to me, it made them uncomfortable for me to talk about it, so i was told to laugh it away, that nobody cares that i was raped, that i was stronger if i could just laugh about it, that no topics were beyond reproach or off limits, and that if i wasnt desensitized to my own suffering then i was weak, i was a sheep, i was a burden, i was letting my emotions get the better of me.

obviously, tumblr as a whole DIRECTLY acts in opposition of this: everything is rooted in our traumas, which we are expected to lay bare for all to be taken seriously: 4chan demanded that we invalidate the trauma by making a joke of it and allowing the masses to pick it apart for their own entertainment, to become part of the anonymous “legion” by offering up our individuality to be consumed by the group (as a currency of “lulz”, basically); tumblr, reflexively, demands we validate the trauma by making it an open and public integral asset to our identity, to have easily digestible and categorized characteristics so as to fit into the tumblr hierarchy of needs, their own misinterpreted facsimile and microcosm of existing systematic oppression, and obtain a sort of fixed currency of privilege or “woke points” dependent on identity politics. so i definitely needed to purge my previous conditioning with this reclamation of my identity as a survivor, etc, and had about 7 years of misplaced anger and fury condensed into a good two or so years instead, and even now im still parsing details. 

it wasnt until i was 22 that i had even heard the term asexuality and it wasnt until i was 25 that i realized i was bi (or “could be” bi), even though i had already been in love with and sexually active with women years prior lmao. i had been told by every possible source that having a dick inside me would change my life and change my outlook and change me into a better person or whatever the fuck, that i would “understand” and “grow up” and “become a woman” or whatever and guess what it did fucking NOTHING, just like every teen drama romance or whatever tries to stress over and over, sex is not a magical lifechanging event that hands you a million dollars and a healthy brain. it changes your life in some ways and it’s definitely not something to be taken lightly but in no way is it a cure for anything.

i dont know where i’m going with this, im just fucking pissed off about my life, im pissed off that healing takes so long and that i had to do any of it in the first place. im so pissed about all of my time wasted with this fucking piece of shit body and fucking piece of shit brain and i wish i could just go back to work and be a functional human being but im like just a short leap away from doing any of that. i have to get in touch w my previous HMO once the new year starts now that im confirmed for medi-cal, and i should have done it months ago, but i have to just accept that this whole time ive been not USELESS but just utterly CONSUMED by self-preservation, that it is taking most of my effort to want to be alive and stay on this planet any longer. especially now with my teeth bugging me so bad because i cant fucking take care of myself so im grinding my teeth and clenching my jaw and i guess eating improperly or what have you idont fucking know. im going to buy a waterpik even though it’s fifty dollars and i have not made ANY MONEY in the last 6 months or done ANY of what i wanted to do and i still have a number of commissions needling at me that i genuinely like cant fucking even look at withotu fucking hitting myself and crying, and im seriously not trying to make fucking excuses, i am so fucking ashamed and consumed by self-hatred about this, this has been a problem for me SINCE COLLEGE where i was an ART MAJOR that i had to fucking beat the shit out of myself to try to draw anything “seriously”, and i do mean literally beating myself, bludgeoning myself with my morris sticks and smacking myself in the face/head and clawing at my skin, and i fucking hate it

i just know i need like SO MUCH recovery or healing or whatever the fuck, i feel so long overdue for very basic shit, and part of me feels like a withering plant, like pouring water over dry leaves thinking it’s just going to saturate itself and be instantly rejuvenated. im losing leaves in the process, as it were, and getting no “water” all this time. i feel like i’m in drought mode. these last six months are me basically conserving all i have, toeing away from the edge of the cliff because iw as so ready yall i was so fucking ready, i was ready to jump off, i spent whole lunch hours just ready to fucking leap, staring down the void, staring at the winding road that went up the mountain, staring at the deer who stared back at me, hiding my face from Adults who treated me like a wind-up doll, i just couldnt take it, ic ouldnt be somewhere that sterile, i couldnt be spending so much of my life getting so little back, i coudlnt see my friends ever, i couldnt breathe, but in general my brain is sick and i need to heal from all of these things, i need to figure out how i can cope with being alive because i am going to be alive at least a little longer and i need to not fear and crave death simultaneously. i do not want to die, I DO NOT want to die, but i cannot live in a constant state of recuperating. my life has just felt like the Shutting Down... screen for the last 2 years. 

NEED a new dentist NEED my teeth fixed PLEASE GOD open the stem cell dentin treatment to clinics worldwide GOD fix my TEETH PLEASE let me REGROW my TEETH NEED therapy NEED to fix my brain NEED to figure out how i can cope with being unable to support myself in this shit fucking economy NEED TO RECOVER NEED TO GET BETTER PLEASE IM FUCKING SUFFERING 

[softlystarstruck]

okay hi i couldnt leave this unhappy here is the sequel 💕

Today, Harry thinks as he steps out of the fireplace. Today I’ll tell him.

He convinces himself of this every week, and every week he loses his nerve before he even reaches Draco’s bedroom.

Today Draco is sitting on his crisp white sheets looking pale and drawn, though whether from the strain of the bond or just anxiety Harry can’t tell. The knot of heavy affection in Harry’s chest tightens with the desire to simply hold Draco until his shoulders aren’t slumped. Last week he cried when he came– Harry always pretends he doesn’t see, to leave Draco with some semblance of his pride.

“Hey.” Harry hovers in the doorway, unsure whether to move further into the room or not. Usually Draco is already shrugging off his shirt by now, but he just sits, looking at his hands. Harry moves to sit beside him, leaving a small bit of space in between their bodies that feels palpable. The itch underneath his skin settles to a low buzz.

“I would say we don’t have to,” Harry says with a sigh. “Except that we do. I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Draco’s voice is very small.

“Do you remember the first week of the bond?” Harry asks, pitching his voice a bit lower, trying to sooth Draco. “When we had to be together all the time, and even though we had already made our peace with each other before, it was going terribly. But then you snapped something like, ‘at this point only one of us is making it out of this week alive and it will be me’.” Draco huffs, somewhere between a breath and a laugh. “It startled me so much and I couldn’t stop laughing, you remember?”

Draco nods slightly. “I thought you had lost the plot.”

“That’s when I knew that we could make this weird situation work. I still wish it didn’t take away… full consent, I suppose. But I think we’re making it work.” Harry lets himself lean in towards Draco a bit, trying to swallow down the way his heart is pounding. He never talks this much before sex– Draco made it clear once they could be apart that he wanted to keep it rather impersonal, and Harry would give Draco anything at this point.

“Let’s just–” Draco stops, then starts to pull off his jumper. Harry takes his cue and undresses Draco the rest of the way, then sheds his own clothing quickly. By the time he gets back on the bed Draco is splayed out, pale and beautiful, his eyes already closed. Harry asks to touch, like he always does. Draco nods his consent, clearly trying to keep his expression blank but failing when Harry slides a finger in and brushes against his prostate.

“Oh.” Draco’s lips are pink, fallen open in an o. “That’s–”

“I’ve got you,” Harry murmurs, brushing that spot again and again until Draco squirms underneath him.

“Just– just go ahead and– please.”

Harry hums, murmuring a spell and slicking his hand over himself. “Are you sure–”

“Harry,” Draco whines, and Harry jolts, because Draco never says his name during sex. Not once. “Harry, please, I want– please–”

“Okay, okay, shh, it’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you, Draco. I’ve got you.”

When Harry pushes himself all the way in, Draco starts crying.

“Fuck,” Harry whispers, pressing a hand to Draco’s cheek, already starting to pull out. This doesn’t happen. This is different than Draco blinking away tears after coming, this is– sobbing. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, I’m so–”

“Don’t, don’t,” Draco says frantically, grabbing Harry’s hips and keeping him still. “Don’t, I’m– I’m okay.”

“I’m not having sex with you if you’re crying. If I’m hurting you. We can wait a little bit.”

“You didn’t– hurt me.” Draco presses his face into the crook of Harry’s neck. “I can turn over, if you don’t want to see.”

“Draco,” Harry snaps, shocked that Draco would even suggest it. “No. Tell me what’s wrong.” Draco shakes his head, dragging warm tears across Harry’s skin. “Please.”

“I– I can’t–”

“We’re not doing this right now. Not like this,” Harry says softly, trying yet again to draw himself away from Draco, to give him space. Draco whimpers softly, just once, tightening his arms around Harry, who stills. He’s terrified, watching Draco’s carefully upheld mask crack like this. “Draco, I need to know what’s wrong.”

“I want you,” Draco whispers, so quietly Harry almost doesn’t hear him. Harry sighs and presses his body back down over Draco’s, running a free hand down his upper arm, ignoring the confession that crowds up into his throat. Draco can’t mean it like Harry wants him to.

“I’m sorry the bond makes you feel things you don’t want to feel. It has to create that physical attraction to–“

“No,” Draco sobs, louder now. “No, I want you. I want you. Not just like– I can’t– I can’t do this, Harry, I can’t. I told myself it was the bond but I– I–”

Harry kisses him.

They never kiss, not on the mouth, not after the first time Harry tried and Draco pushed him away gently with something unreadable in his eyes. Now everything feels new, even the familiar sensation of Draco’s body wrapped around Harry, the pleasure sparking underneath Harry’s skin. For a moment Draco is stiff, unsure, but then he opens his mouth to Harry’s and kisses him back, and it’s so good. It’s so good.

“Next time, serious conversations are happening before my cock is inside you,” Harry pants when they break apart, because now that his worry is gone he might simply go up in flames from how aroused he is. “Fuck, Draco.”

“You want– you want?” Draco is breathless, staring wide-eyed up at Harry. “You feel– the same?”

“I want you,” Harry says simply. Draco trembles faintly. “Seeing you once a week, and just for this, isn’t enough, I want to be in your life, I want you to be in mine, I want–”

Draco rolls his hips, and Harry sees stars.

“You want to fuck me,” Draco says, his eyes half-lidded but glinting with happiness, and Harry can’t hold back a groan because Draco never curses, rarely says anything during sex, but now–

“You want me. You want me to be yours.” Draco rolls his hips again, laughing breathlessly as Harry slides his hips forward slightly. “Oh god, you want me, you– move, Harry, please–”

Harry does, pushing into Draco, kissing his cheeks and jaw and throat and finally his lips, lingering there, reveling in the way Draco touches him. Before, Draco touched him like an apology; now it’s a statement, fingers digging into Harry’s skin. Draco cries out Harry’s name when he comes.

They both shiver in the wake of it.

“You want me,” Draco whispers, as though he can’t quite believe it.

“Yes.” Harry doesn’t know what else to say; his feelings are too vast to be shoved into words.

“It’s not the bond?”

“There’s no emotional compulsion in this bond,” Harry says softly, finally sliding out of Draco and wincing slightly. He cleans them up with a quick spell, then settles down against Draco’s side. “What I feel is definitely emotional.”

“It could be…” Draco sniffs, and Harry realizes he’s crying again, silvery tears sliding down his cheek. “It could just be because we have to do this, and that makes you feel–”

“You’re funny,” Harry interrupts. “You’re so smart, I saw it that first week. You do your best to be kind to other people, even me, even when I drove you absolutely mad. You have such lovely hands,” Harry continues, brushing away Draco’s tears with his thumb. “I feel like I could watch you do anything and be absolutely content. I want to know what kind of movies you like. I want… I just want it all.”

“I thought you would never feel…” Draco trails off, then turns towards Harry, tucking his face into the crook of Harry’s neck. His breath is warm and damp, shuddering across Harry’s bare skin.

“I do. How long have you felt–”

“A while,” Draco says roughly. “Don’t ask me– just–”

“I’ve got you.” Harry curls his arms around Draco, pulling him even closer. “You’re alright. Shh, darling, darling.”

Draco trembles, but doesn’t pull away. “Stay the night? If you want, you don’t have to.”

“I’m staying,” Harry assures him, pressing a kiss into Draco’s soft hair. “I’m going to stay.”

cotton

written for the @drarrymicrofic prompt “fresh” | M, wc 631, warnings for bond-compulsion sex, not a happy ending on page | thank you to @phoebedelia for the beta 💕

With a snap of his wand, Draco presses the white sheets to his bed– fresh linen, crisp at the corners.

Downstairs, the Floo roars as Harry steps out of the fireplace, the way he does every Sunday night at eight sharp.

Six months, the Healer had said. Once a week for six months and then they could reevaluate, if they couldn’t break the curse first.

“Hello,” Harry says softly, and Draco doesn’t turn immediately, giving himself a moment of respite. He already knows what Harry will look like, anyways– standing in the doorway, his cheeks slightly flushed but his expression determined.

“Hi.” Draco’s hands tremble as he undoes the buttons on his shirt slowly. It never stops feeling like this, a fire burning low in his stomach, arousal and shame feeding the flames equally. Somewhere in there is loneliness, too, but Draco tries not to think about it.

“Here, let me,” Harry murmurs, right behind Draco now. Draco drops his hands and lets Harry spin him around, his dark fingers stark against the white of Draco’s shirt as he finishes undoing the buttons. He efficiently strips Draco of his trousers and pants, then does the same for himself. They could do this partially clothed, Draco knows; the bond doesn’t care how they have sex, as long as they do. But Harry has proven to be a gentleman, insisting they take their time, always tender with Draco yet blind to the way he makes Draco’s heart come undone.

For the first few weeks, Draco told himself the feelings were due to the bond, though the Healer said there was no emotional compulsion. Before they were cursed the two of them were barely acquaintances, civil at best. But it’s hard for Draco to lie to himself when the strongest ache for Harry’s presence isn’t the itch under his skin, but the vise around his heart.

“C’mon,” Harry says quietly, guiding Draco onto his back on the bed. At this point Draco lets his eyes fall shut, unable to keep looking at the radiance of Harry’s features: his beautiful mouth, his furrowed brow.

“May I touch you?” Harry asks, the way he does every time, and Draco nods jerkily. Fingertips trace over his ribs, his hip bones, his upper thigh, ghosting over his aching cock before traveling lower. Harry murmurs a spell and slides a slick finger lower, lower. He pauses, like he does every time. “Alright?”

“Yes,” Draco says, whining slightly as Harry slips his finger in. He tries to keep quiet, to make it easier for both of them, but– “Oh.”

“I know, I know.” Harry’s breath is hot across the side of Draco’s cheek. “Let me know when–”

“Go ahead,” Draco interrupts. Let it hurt, let it burn the way his skin does on Sunday afternoons.

Harry’s hands are so gentle on his hips.

“Oh,” Draco gasps softly when Harry bottoms out. “Oh.”

“You’re alright.” Harry holds himself still, waiting for Draco to adjust. This isn’t new either, the gentle murmurs, the soothing tone. Like Harry is apologizing with every word. “You’re alright.”

By the time Draco comes, he’s blinking away tears. This doesn’t happen every time, but often enough that he knows how to hide it. Harry murmurs at him lazily, his cheek tacky against Draco’s shoulder, talking about his plans for the week and the kitten he adopted two weeks ago, like he’s trying to pull Draco into his life during these hazy moments of flimsy intimacy.

After Harry leaves, Draco strips the bed immediately, not letting himself linger in the scent of sex and Harry and his own wistful dreams. He’ll wash the sheets, the way he always does, spreading them back out with a scent so clean he can almost forget what he will never truly have.

[bridgyrose]

“I…I did it, I finally did it,” Cinder said quietly to herself as she stood over Ruby’s body. Her blade slipped out of her fingers and disappeared as the fire in her eye faded. After months of training, months of learning to control her grimm arm and the maiden powers, all of it coming to fruition with Ruby dead at her feet. And yet, it didnt seem to satisfy the hunger she felt gnawing inside her. 

Her body stood almost frozen as she looked over body in front of her and her heart raced as she felt a shiver run down her spine. Ruby was supposed to be the one thing in her way of freedom, killing her was supposed to free her. Then why was the girl’s face stuck in her mind? Why couldnt she get that look of disappointment out of her out of her thoughts? Those last words of hers circling through her mind. 

“You’ll never be free.”

Cinder let out a growl of anger and kicked Ruby’s body. “Leave me alone!” Her breathing turned into heavy panting as she put her hand to her heart, finger tips digging into her skin. “I finally killed you, so why are you still in my head? I’m supposed to be free!” 

She gasped as she felt her grimm arm start to burn at her flesh as it started to creep up onto her shoulder. Her eyes widened as she started to look for a way out of the Beacon Tower, wincing as she used her semblance to try to slow the growth of her grimm arm. Even her legs shook as she took a few steps away from Ruby, almost on the verge of collapse 

And yet, Cinder still couldnt help but look back at Ruby. She still didnt feel satisfied that her rival was dead, like a piece of her was missing. And as the grimm arm started to take over, panic set in. She ripped at the arm, tearing pieces off as her shoulder started to bleed, only to be replaced with grimm flesh once more. No matter how much of it she tried to tear off, it didnt seem to matter as it kept growing back. 

Finally, she dropped to the ground next to Ruby, her breathing still labored as she reached out for her dead rival. “Get up… you… you always get up. We’re not finished yet, now get up!” She pulled Ruby close and cauterized the wound on her chest as the flames of her powers started to ignite in her eyes once more. Electricity coursed through her fingertips as she pressed down on Ruby’s chest to pick herself up, straining to keep herself conscious as the pain from the grimm arm moved from her shoulder to her back. 

Crack

The sounds of ribs cracking as she pushed down filled the air, her body winced at the sound. Her eyes stayed on Ruby as her own body dropped back down to the ground, waiting for any sign of movement. When she didnt see any, she tried to pick herself up again to press down on Ruby’s check again. 

Crack

The sound of another rib breaking sent a shiver down Cinder’s back as her vision started to fade from the pain of her grimm arm making her more grimm-like. She growled as she dropped to the ground again, her voice strained as she yelled. “Get up, dammit!” She tried to pick herself up once more, groaning as her body started to give out from the pain. 

Another rib broke and a bright, silver light left Ruby’s eyes as she gasped for air. All Cinder could do was drop to the ground as her arm gave out from under her, pain shooting through her body as she felt her grimm arm burn. Then, just as quickly as the pain flooded through her, it was gone. 

Cinder rolled to her back and shakily lifted her arm as she let out a fireball above her, eyes closing as it exploded against what remained of the ceiling of Ozpin’s office. A smirk crossed her lips just before she lost consciousness, her voice trailing off as she tried to speak. “Your friends… will… find us..” 

Her body felt weightless as her arm fell back to the ground, almost serene as she lost all sense of what was around her, waiting for someone to find them.

[milki]

pt i

for nearly five years, i was in a relationship with a wonderful person who had been a longtime friend-turned-lover. late last year, we ended things and, as some relationships often flux, got back together several months later. earlier this year, in march, we were in an “off” period but still remained intimate. breakups. in the early spring one day, we met up for drinks. we had a lot of fun. when we first broke up, i was rather indifferent about the whole affair. we both had been pretty unhappy and exhausted toward what would be the first of many ends. but this day, as messy as we ended up getting, had me feeling like we had made a mistake. this was it; this was the person i was to be with. getting him to sleep with me that night took zero effort. the proposal left my lips and within seconds, we were right back to where was most comfortable: in the bed we shared for all these years. it was emotional. i cried (a good cry) the entire time and all we could both say was how much we loved each other, over and over again. as complicated as everything had become, it did somewhat feel like we were on the same page, if only for a moment. the next day, i learned that this person was seeing someone else. he assured me it was casual, but that he definitely didn’t think he and i should try and make things work. i was a mess, admittedly. i felt alone in the overwhelming everything of it all. confusion, hurt, anger, jealousy. but through all this, i did (perhaps it was delusional) think we could eventually make a friendship work. this person was so important to me and i was willing to make any type of connection work if he was. it was hard, and he was distant, but we tried it. sometime in mid-april, i found out i was pregnant. it was a force of emotions culminating in feeling aloft of reality. everything was scary, everything was confusing, nothing was right timing-wise. nothing was right at all. this is not anything close to a situation i wanted anything to do with. we sat and talked for three hours, utterly petrified. i didn’t know what i was going to do but i had to tell him; i couldn’t tell another soul. i had had abortions before and i was, quite frankly, ashamed at my situation. once i told him, everything became as messy as seemed possible. it was not until i revealed this information that this person in turn revealed to me that they were in a full-blown relationship with the person they assured me was just a “casual” dating situation. i should have known better; he has never been single for more than a few months since he was 14 years old. (side note: this always concerned me) somehow, in a matter of weeks, he had met a person and was already planning for them to move in with him. all while still talking to me, having me over for dinner, going to the movies. this of course displaced my headspace even deeper out of any semblance of sense. i felt played and by the one person i never thought was capable of playing me. i gave myself a week to figure out what i wanted to do. after much agony and little sleep, i decided going through with this pregnancy was the final decision. it was terrifying, i was in no way ready, i never wanted to have a child with someone who wasn’t deeply in love with me... but i knew i didn’t want (another) abortion. i had had one for this person before and i regret it to this day. i wasn’t going to do that to myself again. i couldnt. this was an inconvenient choice but i figured: “i have nothing but the greatest support system on this planet. it will be hard, but i’ve done hard; i can do this.” i also knew, somewhere in the turbulent haze, that the other party involved - this person i know better than anyone on this planet - would, in spite of everything, show up to be an incredible, present parent. it was not ideal, but it was settled. maybe “settled” is the wrong word choice. i made the decision quietly, alone, in my home one tuesday evening. i did not know where my skin ended and the air began. the days that followed are absent from memory to this day and i will (perhaps thankfully) likely never get the memory of those days back. the only constant was pain - physical and emotional - and so many tears. someone i was very much still in love with was officially no longer my partner - and here i was, having his child. when i finally told my ex of my decision, it did not go over the best; we were, after all, not together and he had, for all intents and purposes, cheated on someone with me. no part of this situation was anything either of us ever dreamed we’d find ourselves in. i was still in college at this point and had just been fired from a lucrative job. the future, as it was, looked bleak. the residual heartbreak of our uncoiling would be the hurdle before the next: “how the fuck am i going to do this?” it was a wednesday. i told him i was going to go through with the pregnancy as we sat on the couch we bought together - our first big purchase as a couple. i think he thought i would change my mind, or was just saying i would keep it to see how he would react. what he thought would be a five-minute moratorium on our connection turned into twenty and he left in a flurry of tense limbs and stern words. “if you keep it, we are NOT getting back together.” or my personal favorite, “go ahead and trap me and ruin my one chance at being on my own” - confusing, as i thought he was in a relationship and near cohabitation? after that, i couldn’t hear a word he said. i blinked slowly, sitting straight taking all my strength, alien in my own form. my chest deep underwater yet my head high up into space, where the air is so thin. i sat in my apartment staring at the wall, silent. less than an hour later, he called me. manic. “you really want to do this?” “of course not! but the alternative is unbearable! you know that! i won’t do it, stephen!” “okay, then.” what followed was a 13-minute rambling of how we needed to get back together and make things work - “for real this time” - and move back in together to start saving money and planning for this new future of ours. although i had long thought this was what i wanted, it absolutely felt a reckless decision. this was not the circumstance under which i wanted this person back in my life. i was, however, tired of fighting, of trying. tired of being faced with difficult decisions. i did almost none of the talking. he hung up and i let the phone slip into my lap. On his lunch break, we met up halfway between my house and his place of work so that I could give him a set of keys. When we met on the sidewalk, he grabbed my face and kiss me deeply. It felt cinematic, in a beautiful way. I was speechless. He had lots to say. Mostly how he missed me and just wanted to ravage me right then and there, on his break. i knew this was a terrible idea, as much as i also wanted it. besides: he would move back in that very night. i went to work that evening, going through the motions, barely able to speak to anybody, much less behave like a human being. what was happening couldn’t possibly be happening to me - this was cinematic, and not in a beautiful way. i watched the day unfurl for myself feeling powerless and exhausted. i returned home and he was there. in our house. one of three we shared together. it felt equal parts right and wrong. “i talked to that girl,” he said. “how did that go,” i asked. i didn’t care, but i asked. “she seemed very indifferent. detached. i told her i cheated and that this was the decision and she told me ‘good luck’ and hung up.” “sounds weird,” i replied. “yeah, well, whatever.” that was that on that. he had put in his 30 day notice on his apartment. he moved his cat in. he ended a relationship. he told his parents and friends everything. all within a matter of six hours. i had told no one. he made me dinner. i couldn’t taste anything. we made love and fell asleep holding each other so close, more tears, two scared children with nothing else to grasp hold of but the thing that made the most sense to us. because it was familiar.

[gulescamisade]

Virginia:  Day 23

ROXANNE: -There are aspects of the campus that really are quite spectacular and maybe if it wasnt the circumstances of this basically being a kind of revolution base Roxanne still would have wanted to visit it anyways. For instance this fountain she is looking at is quite lovely! Dont mistake her stern expression for not appreciating it, she is just fairly stressed the fuck out.-

RILEY: -too restless. she's always so restless lately, especially from last night. the walk she's taking leads her by the fountain, where roxanne is, and she doesn't look too happy.- hey.

RILEY: -alternatively HEY!!!!!-

ROXANNE: -The smaller hey will suffice in getting her attention away from the water.- Hm? oh hey.

RILEY: what are you doing out here this late? can't sleep either?

ROXANNE: Sure.

RILEY: -looks around before approaching closer, also looking at the fountain- that's. RILEY: sure an answer.

ROXANNE: Yeah. -Sighs and rubs her eyes with the back of her hand.- Sorry, Im just. Yeah cant sleep.

ROXANNE: Too much to think about ya'know?

RILEY: oh, yeah. too much shit. RILEY: hard to even feel rested when all of this is going on.

RILEY: also when i have this beautiful little fucker kicking my insides.

ROXANNE: Yeah I was about to ask if that was the reason you are still awake. th'kicking is the absolute worst sometimes. ROXANNE: I remember at one point i couldnt even sit comfortably let alone lay any which way without feeling my organs crushed.

RILEY: -she laughs- yeah, sounds about right. it's like...okay, yeah. i get you're bored, kid. can't you just like move those really tiny fingers you developed instead?

ROXANNE: Nope 'cus feet are hell of a lot more interesting. thats why babies love chewing on their own toes.

RILEY: fuck, i remember that. when i first saw dirk do that i was like...freaking out about it because i thought i had a monster baby, but i didn't.

ROXANNE: Nope your baby is just normal as every other toe eating baby.

RILEY: thank god. didn't want to return that one.

ROXANNE: -Turns and looks at her with a raised eyebrow.-

RILEY: joke. joking. not serious.

ROXANNE: Yeah got as much.

RILEY: ha. haha. yeah. RILEY: -clears her throat- anyway. you thinking about the whole...i don't know what the fuck to call it. mission?

ROXANNE: -Nods.- I might sound dramatic in sayin' it but to be honest its the only thing i really can think about right now. -Sighs, and glances back at the fountain again.- which is pretty damn annoying considerin' i didnt want us to go through with it in the first place. i still dont.

ROXANNE: But what can you do.

RILEY: no. it's all i can think about too. i get that.

ROXANNE: Yeah? What are your thoughts.

RILEY: i don't want to do this, honestly. but i understand why more now. RILEY: i just hate the risk.

ROXANNE: -Well at least one of them understands why. Like, yeah no the concert was great and amazing and inspiring but... This just wasnt something she could ever really support.- Same. ROXANNE: I was having a talk with that Eridan guy. he said it pretty spot on there is a real chance we all are gonna' die doing this.

RILEY: -she looks down when she says that- what does that guy know anyway? RILEY: it's obvious. isn't it. -her expression softens-

ROXANNE: ..... Hey do me a favor, Riley.

ROXANNE: If... or I dunno' when shit hits the fan. gets hot. goes crazy, whatever you want to call it. Keep yourself away from it and get the hell out of here and all the way to minnesota. -Says this all without looking at her.-

RILEY: -she nods- yeah. of course. RILEY: do me a favor?

ROXANNE: Name it.

RILEY: -sniffs a little- stay the fuck alive.

ROXANNE: -Riley dont sniff. She tenses a little when she hears it, Riley better not cry.- ROXANNE: ....Okay.

RILEY: -she's tearing up a little. she wipes at her eyes quickly cuz she doesn't WANT to cry right now- good.

RILEY: cool.

ROXANNE: -Yes please dont cry because if she starts crying then Roxanne is definitely just going to let it out too.- ROXANNE: -Contain the sads and stress for the win.- ROXANNE: Thanks by the way...for asking for that. I mean like not that I wasnt planing to but I'm pretty damn serious to my word so now its a for sure thing.

RILEY: yeah. of course. RILEY: i'm really shitty at it, but. RILEY: i still want you to be okay?

ROXANNE: I want you to be okay too. Fuck... I just want all of us to make it out of this alive, in any semblance of okay. but every day its starting to feel like thats asking too much. ROXANNE: Like i dont even want to check the message board anymore but I cant not look at it you know?

ROXANNE: Everything is going to hell for us. For everyone. how are we supposed to stay positive about this stupid suicide run when everyone else is struggling to just get to minnesota. -Her fists tighten at her sides and shes trying really hard to keep the anger out of her voice.- ROXANNE: I get it, its really important that we do this. Earth is my planet, I get it as well as anyone else but its impossible for me not to feel like it shouldnt be us doing it.

ROXANNE: -Her shoulders sink a little now.- Ugh. What the fuck do I know though, I never dealt with combat I'm a shitty scientist.

RILEY: -she listens to roxanne, her chest tightening. she laughs weakly- i think that's what makes you a great scientist.

RILEY: in my professional educated opinion.

RILEY: with my degree in scient....ology. RILEY: wait no.

ROXANNE: .................................................................... -snrks.-

RILEY: point is you're fucking smart and i am not.

ROXANNE: Yeah but youre good in other ways. ROXANNE: Th'singing was pretty top notch.

RILEY: -she snorts- hey, thanks. RILEY: means a lot coming from a scientist.

ROXANNE: Are ya' going to keep pointing out how im a scientist now?

RILEY: i mean it makes everything i say sound true, so...yeah.

ROXANNE: Hah, alright have fun using my credentials to validate your arguments.... hmmm. -Folds her arms as she thinks.- Ya know come to think of it thats probably the best use of them. ROXANNE: Cant say the whole scientist title has been too useful since we all got labeled criminals.

ROXANNE: I mean sure I still have the skills and all, but i dont actively talk about my old work anymore.

RILEY: oh, i will. -watches her with a grin- there has to be some benefits that come with being friends with a musician, too. like...you can get away with a lot of shit.

ROXANNE: Oh yeah?

RILEY: sadly not treason, but everything else, sure. i guess i'd just have to be present for whatever it was. then it goes hush hush.

ROXANNE: -Snaps.- Damn asking ya' to get us off the hook for presidential murder was going to be my next question.

ROXANNE: I'll keep it in mind though next time i think about doing something crazy.

RILEY: i'm already down.

ROXANNE: Pft, okay.

RILEY: put me on that pre-registration shit.

ROXANNE: After you give birth maybe, I dont wanna' see you do anything risky with me until after.

ROXANNE: Im sure derek would lose it if you ended up in the slammer because of me.

RILEY: ah, it's fun to watch him lose it sometimes. rile him up.

ROXANNE: Wouldnt say I really know i guess, haha.

RILEY: -whoops. she laughs it off- need me to sing you a lullaby so you can sleep?

[bridgyrose]

Fear was a strange emotion. Heart racing, blood almost freezing, the way Penny’s body could barely move as she stared face to face with an ursa, unable to get her body to obey any order she wanted to give it. Not that she remembered how she got here beyond a pain in her chest and then wishing she had one more chance to live her life. And now, here she was, feeling her heart race, her muscles tense, and the desire to do nothing more than survive.

“Leave her alone!” Yang yelled out. 

Penny turned out of the way just in time for Yang to slam her fist into the ursa, her body almost relaxing when she saw the familiar sight. As the grimm disintegrated in front of her, her knees finally gave out and she dropped to the ground, struggling to keep her breath. 

Yang knelt down next to her and placed a careful hand on her shoulder. “Everything okay sis? Its unlike you to freeze up like that.” 

“I-I am… fine,” Penny finally spoke once she was able to catch her breath. She gave a quick smile to Yang and stood up. “I do not know what came over me.” 

“You should be more careful. I thought dad told you not to leave the house without your weapon.” 

“I did not plan to go far, but I guess I ended up getting a bit farther than I wanted to while trying to figure out my semblance.” 

“Its okay if you dont know what your semblance is.” 

“But dad said you knew when you were younger.” 

“It was an accident that I found out that early.” Yang rubbed Penny’s back. “Even if you dont know your semblance now, that doesnt mean you cant be a huntress. All it means is that it’ll take time to figure it out. Who knows, maybe yours is a passive semblance.” 

“Yeah but… I…” Penny let out a soft sigh and turned around to hug Yang tightly. A few tears ran down her cheek that she wiped away as she started to feel overwhelmed by the memories and emotions that started to come to her. Her grip tightened around Yang before she relaxed and pulled away. “Do not have too much fun at Beacon without me, okay?” 

“You know I wont. But we should start getting home. Dad wants to take us out to Vale so I can grab a few more things before I head off in a month.” 

“I bet I can get back there faster than you.” 

Yang smirked. “Are you sure about that?” 

Penny nodded and started to race home. She remembered that Ruby had told her something important had happened this night, but couldnt remember what exactly it was. There was a dust shop and a present for Yang… enough she remembered that she could try to follow those footsteps. And then maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to find out where Ruby was. If she was here, that was. 

As she made it back to the house, she felt another rush of memories flood into her, almost stopping her in her tracks. She could remember the first day Taiyang picked up Zwei, going to Signal and being taught how to fight by Qrow, even getting help with making sure her weapon pack would work the way she wanted it. But even those memories felt like they were a world away from the one she remembered. 

Penny nearly fell into the door as she opened it, panting for breath, and fell to her knees just as Yang came in behind her. “S-see?” she said with a smile. “I-I told… you that I could beat you.” 

“Yeah… you still… can…” Yang said as she dropped onto the couch to catch her breath. “I thought I had you this time.” 

“Alright girls, go get changed before we go out,” Taiyang said as he placed his own work pack on the table. “We’ll go out for dinner first, and then we can go shopping for a few more things Yang will need before classes start-” 

“I was hoping I could go off on my own after dinner,” Penny interrupted once she caught her breath. “My order of dust came in and I need to pick up.” *And get a gift for Yang,* she thought as she stood up. “The dust shop is out of the way so I can go on my own and meet back with you both once you are finished with Yang.” 

“I dont know if you should go off on your own-” 

“You’re always telling her she needs to start doing things on her own, a trip to the dust shop shouldnt be too bad for her,” Yang pointed out. “Besides, its not like she’ll be completely alone either. We’ll still be close by.” 

“A-and I will keep my scroll on me!” Penny said as she gave Yang a thankful look for having her back. “That way if anything happens, I can call.” 

Taiyang sighed and nodded. “Alright, but call me if anything happens.” 

Penny smiled and rushed over to give him a hug. “Do not worry dad, I will be fine.” 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Penny adjusted the pack she wore on her back as she walked down the streets of Vale, still not sure what she was thinking about getting Yang. Getting her a plush to keep in her dorm sounded like a great idea, but the longer she thought about it, the less she knew what Yang would actually want for a plush. She wasnt into grimm as much as Penny was, and a lot of the plushes that Penny came across seemed to be more cutesy than she wanted to give as a gift. An action figure or two didnt sound like a bad plan, but then came the issue of space or where to place them. She let out a sigh and walked into the dust shop to take her mind off trying to find something for Yang. 

“Welcome to From Dust till Dawn,” the shopkeep said in almost a low grunt. 

Penny nodded and started to look around the shop until she made her way to the magazines. She paused as she picked one up that was placed backwards, staring at the Schnee icon as she felt a few tears roll down her cheeks. Weiss. Another name she remembered but was slowly losing why she knew it. Had to be someone important, someone close to Ruby. If she could find one of them-

“Hey kid” a man growled out as he pulled on her shoulder. “I said give me your money.” 

“Are you… robbing me?” Penny half said as she took a quick glance at the dust shop behind her. She hadnt realized she’d been that engrossed in the magazine to not notice anyone coming into the shop, much less with how noisy these men were with grabbing dust and breaking glass. 

“Yes!” the man said. 

Penny smirked and, in one swift motion, pulled two swords out of her pack, slamming the blunt ends into the man behind her. She winced as she heard the glass of the window break followed by another voice outside yell out. 

“What is taking so long?” a man with red hair said as climbed in through the window. “All you had to do was take the dust and-” he paused as he looked at Penny. “Oh great, a huntress.” 

The world almost seemed to slow down for Penny as her green eyes started to glow almost like they were L.E.Ds. She took a step back as images of everyone around her moved in various ways, almost as if she could see what actions everyone could take. Then, as if on instinct, she moved to block a few strikes with the blades in her hands. A few more blades came out of her pack when she pressed a button on the hilt of her left sword, moving each blade as if it was an extension of her own body to keep from getting hit. As the last of goons dropped, she pointed her sword at the man with red hair. “Stop before I-” 

“I dont think so,” he said as he aimed the end of his cane at Penny. “Now be a good little huntress and die.” 

Penny’s eyes widened as she watched a rocket come out of the cane. Without another thought, she lunged forward and swung her swords at it, sending it out the dust shop, taking cover from the explosion. As the dust settled, she picked herself up. “W-will you be okay if I go after them?” she asked the shopkeep. 

The shopkeep nodded. “I-I’ll be fine.” 

Penny smiled and put her swords back into her pack and ran down the street to chase after the dust thief. Her eyes caught him climbing up the side of a building and she ran after, trying to keep up. As she made it to the top of the building, she froze in her tracks as an airship pulled up to the side of the building. A woman with glowing amber eyes held the palm of her hand out to her as a fireball started to build up. She put her arms up in front of her to brace for the impact, looking away as the fireball was launched to her. As the heat of the flames around her died down, she opened her eyes to see a glyph protecting her and a huntress standing next to her. 

She put up a nervous smile as she spoke. “Thank you.” 

“You’re in a lot of trouble,” the huntress said with a glare. 

[bridgyrose]

“We should get going before it gets dark.” 

Ruby opened her eyes to see Ashe staring down at her. She got up and stretched, her back a little stiff as she moved around. “Didnt realize it was that late already.” 

“I would’ve gotten you up earlier, but you seemed more relaxed than I’ve seen you,” Ashe said with a smile. Her smile faded as she watched the sun set. “Though if we dont hurry, we’ll be stuck here til morning when the ferry leaves.” 

“Would that be a bad thing?” 

“No, but I’d rather not stay the night here.” Ashe sighed and looked back at the gravestones. “It may be my duty to keep this place safe, but I still have a life to live.” 

Ruby nodded and continued to follow, looking up at the sky as she saw the first few stars start to peek out. A smile crossed her lips as she remembered how she and Yang used to stay up until they could see all the stars and look for each of the constellations dad used to tell stories about. But as she watched the night sky, she paused as she caught a glimpse of a green streak. As the streak came closer, she felt her heart race and she took a step back. 

She watched as Penny came into view and landed in front of her. Her breath hitched as she watched Penny pull the hood of her own cloak down. She had wanted to reach out to her, to hold her, but kept her distance as she remembered the words of their last meeting. “P-Penny…” 

Penny took a deep breath as her own eyes glowed with green fire, moving the blades she carried on her hips. “I am sorry, Ruby.” 

The small smile that was trying to show on Ruby’s lips faded as she watched Penny swing her blades at her. She moved her arms in front of her to block the strike as she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the hit. The sound of emerald striking obsidian permeated the air as she slowly opened her eyes 

“Get to the ferry!” Ashe yelled out. “I’ll keep her busy.” 

Ruby tried to run to the ferry, certain Ashe could handle Penny on her own, though her body didnt seem to obey her. She stood frozen as she watched Penny and Ashe fight, eyes glued to them as her heart pounded in her chest and her breathing became shallow. As she closed her eyes and reopened them, all she could see was Penny and Cinder fighting again, but this time she was an onlooker that couldnt do anything to help. Even as her hand moved to where her scythe normally sat, she couldnt do much more.

Ashe pulled back and tossed a blade to Ruby. “Ruby, go!” 

Ruby snapped out of it as she heard Ashe’s voice and caught the blade that was tossed to her. The obsidian hilt felt foreign to her fingers as she gripped with a shaky hand, unable to calm herself as she watched the two continue to fight. Her heart had desperately wanted to help out Penny, but Ashe was the one who had helped her. And all she could do was watch as Ashe was pushed back and took a few hits from the blades, her aura starting to shimmer as it came closer to breaking. 

“I thought you were supposed to be a great warrior!” Ashe called out between breaths, struggling to keep up. “Or was that all just a story?” 

“I-I… I cant…” Ruby slowly lowered her blade. “All I did was lead people to their deaths. I shouldnt be here.” 

“That is enough!” Penny yelled as she pushed Ashe back. Her focus went back to Ruby as she took a few breaths with each step. Her eyes burned with murderous intent as she rushed towards Ruby, blades at the ready. Then, as she readied her blades to strike, she dropped to her knees and a hand went to her forehead. “N-no… not… not now…” 

Ruby dropped her own blade  as her legs shook. She took a step closer to Penny to try to help until she heard a familiar *screech* in the air from behind her. She quickly used her semblance to move herself and Ashe out of the way of giant feathers that struck the ground, her heart starting to calm once she saw the grimm. 

“They… they were supposed to be gone… sealed…” Ashe said quietly as her gaze stayed focused on the grimm. “Why are they here now?!” 

“I can handle them!” Ruby called out as she quickly picked up her blade again and started to rush towards the nearest of the nervermores. “I can keep them from getting to the ferry-”

“We dont have time!” 

Ruby felt Ashe grab her arm again and start to pull her away as the ground started to rumble under them, the land shifting until a pool of grimm started to unearth. Her calmed heart started to pound in her chest once more as she watched various grimm start to climb out, her body freezing again as she watched the grimm start to circle around Penny. 

But that didnt matter. What mattered was that Penny needed to be protected. Her eyes started to shine with silver light as she focused on protecting Penny… until a green bolt came at her and Ashe had to move in the air. The light in her eyes died down as she blinked a few times until her vision could focus again. And there she saw Penny, one hand clutching her head while the other was pointed in the air, a green fire still in her eyes while her fingertips seemed to spark with magic. All while the grimm circled around Penny, ready to protect her and obey any order she’d give. Ruby finally sighed and looked away. “Penny,” she said quietly, the name almost tasting bitter on her tongue. 

“We can deal with her later,” Ashe said as she struggled to keep the two in the air as they neared the ferry. “But Vale needs… to know…” 

Ruby used her semblance to get herself and Ashe on the ground as they started to fall out of the sky, grunting as she pulled out of her semblance and landed with Ashe on top of her just before the dock the ferry was waiting at. She picked herself up and looked out towards the forest of the island, her heart breaking as she thought about Penny. She slowly picked Ashe up and started to head to the ferry, not ready to tell her team what had happened.