#the cord is even detachable so if it breaks in the same way I can just replace the cord

[cactus-chowder]

some Gabimarus to test out a new art tablet!

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1553

Chapter 23:

With little time to spare, everyone rushed to find thick branches or tree roots they could somehow detach.

Then, they proceeded to wrap it with cords, leaves, or vines; each adding their little own touch to them. At the same time, Lilia was commenting on how she hated the brooms and flying due to how often media associated with witches.

The only one not participating was you, who simply kept guard; ready to blast magic at anything that moved.

When everyone had done the couple ritual, where two witches enchanted and exchanged brooms; only then did they notice you with no broom in hand.

"Wait, Y/N doesn't have a broom," Alice pointed out, earning the coven's attention.

"Can't we make her one?" Teen asked, surprised by the fact that you had remained quiet and broomless.

"Only if we were am even number. We can't give her one of our own brooms, " Jen explained.

You waved your hand dissimively to ease the worries of your coven. "I don't need it either way. I can use my magic to fly, " you explained, earning different expressions from them.

Teen smiled in excitement. "Wait, you can fly with magic?"

Jen scoffed. "Of course you can,"

Alice seemed interested. "If it is a spell that allows you, we should be fine,"

Surprisingly, neither Agatha nor Rio seemed to agree with the idea.

"Absolutely not," Agatha argued. "We need to stick together, and she can't match a broom's speed."

Rio nodded faintly. "Better her riding with someone. She can join me. "

"Safest option is with me." Agatha disagreed, arguing with Rio while you stood not so far away; having no saying even though the topic was about you.

Before anyone else could comment or extend the argument, one of the Salem Seven appeared almost out of thin air; close to Alice and Teen.

The protection witch, though, acted fast and used the broom to smack and attack the corrupted witch; sending them on the ground.

Just then, Lilia took notice of something by the end of her peripheral vision.

"Agatha!" She exclaimed as another Salem Seven witch had appeared and now too close to its original target.

This time, you were faster to react.

Sliding on the muddy ground, you managed to cover the distance between your lover and you. As you pushed your legs to stand up, you extended your left hand and wrapped it around Agatha's waist; pulling her closer to your body that was positioned sideways but also further away from the enemy.

At the same time, white magic had gathered in your right hand, and you extended it forward; placing it on the chest of the cursed witch.

Your magic worked like a powerhouse, causing pain to the mind hired witch while also sending them flying back; quite a distance.

The force and momentum of the attack had even caused a weak wind current that moved some of your strands back while you stood there, holding Agatha by the waist.

Agatha had not expected the blind attack from her sworn enemy, so to speak, and neither your interference. Yet here she was, both hands grasping your upper arm as the sudden pull had her losing her balance; resulting in her slightly leaning back.

She stared at your profile for a moment longer, surprised by your attack but also the position you two were in; momentarily forgetting the grave danger that was approaching.

"How did you do that?" Alice questioned, the first to break the odd silence and also ruin your little mood.

You helped Agatha stand properly and did not fail to glance at Rio first, taking notice of the face she pulled. It was her silent way of saying 'not bad' along with the lines 'I am impressed'.

"I find hurling and throwing your magic from afar rather risky and also makes it easier for the enemy to dodge or block" you explained as you turned to face her, your hand still wrapped around Agatha's waist and her hands still holding your upper arm for dear life. "Instead, unleashing your magic in close quarters has a higher chance of success, and the impact is more powerful."

Teen looked at you as if seeing their idol live on stage, his dark eyes glowing with interest. "Wow," he exclaimed, unable to find where to start his questions.

Jen cleared her throat, having enough of the unnecessary talk. Mind hived witches were after them, and she would love to get as far as possible from the danger.

"Think we can finish this later," she commented. "We need to go,"

"We still haven't decided who will fly with Y/N.

"She can fly with me," Teen said, lifting his hand halfway as he spoke. "I have never used a broom before... I mean an enchanted broom cause I have used normal brooms at home -"

"Enough, kid," Agatha said, lifting her hand to silence him. "Let us go. She flies with you. "

Rio looked at Agatha, clearly not fulling agreeing but said nothing. Instead, she watched you walk towards the teenager, the two of you exchanging a smile.

"Let's do this," you told him as you both held the broom in your hands.

Wasting no more time, you all started to run towards one direction. One by one, everyone jumped on the brooms and mounted them; quickly gaining height.

"Wait! How do I-"

You interrupted the Teen. "On my mark, mount the broom," you instructed, and as Lilia took flight, your chance arrived. "Now!"

Without hesitation, he jumped and mounted the broom. His hands held it for dear life just as you managed to mount the broom right behind him.

"Wow!" He exclaimed as the broom slowly started going up while also gaining more and more speed.

At the same time, you could hear Lilia laughing from joy and Alice having the time of her life, both exprtely navigating the broom.

The ones having he easiest time were Agatha and Rio, who have also taken the lead and had the most experience flying on brooms.

It was hard, at first, with the low branches, and the boy had stated to worry; feeling the loops and sudden moves would throw him off, even if your hands were around his waist.

"Oh, God!" Teen exclaimed.

Lilia was amused. "Try praying to the Divine Mother, kid," he advised the future witch.

Just then, an opening was presented, and one by one, the coven flew up; heading for the night sky.

Teen hesitated, seeing the claw like branches and the fact that he had to fly almost straight up; his mind reminding him of what gravity would do if he tried.

"Please, divine mother," he prayed and dared to closs his eyes as he tried to guide the broom up.

He felt a cold ethereal touch on top of his hands and then the sudden feeling of your stomach dropping while the pressure and change of air hit you all in once.

Thankfully for him, the up way was short and before he knew it; the broom was vertical again, and he could feel the cold night air against his cheek and curly hair.

Opening his eyes, he was left in awe at the beautiful sight of the Red full moon right next to everyone.

He looked down, noticing how small the trees looked, how normal the road seemed, and how fast you were going.

It was then he saw an extra pair of hands placed on top of his, remembering this ethereal feeling of magic he felt when he prayed to the Divine Mother for the first time. He turned to look above his shoulder, seeing you leaning against his back and having a smirk on your face.

"You're welcome, kiddo," you told him, making him smile faintly as a thank you. "Eyes forward and don't you dare close them again"

He nodded. "Yes ma'am"

As the coven flew in formation, Agatha took a moment to breathe the cold air and be reminded of the sense of freedom she had been denied for so long. Broom flying was always so freeing, offering a sensation few things could truly match.

But then she dared to look at her right and saw Rio, in all her supernatural glory, riding that broom; her face screaming confidence and raw power as the wind blew back her hair.

Conflicted and defeated, Agath tried to look at her left and take some comfort in the blood red moon when she noticed you and Teen gaining speed.

You giggled faintly as you were trying to instruct the boy how to hold the broom and how to command it.

At that moment, you seemed to be happy and relaxed, clearly enjoying teaching him. He was also chuckling faintly as he absorbed everything you told him, doing his best to make you proud and show you that he was paying attention.

Agatha could not help but imagine you, being the same to Nicholas had he ever the chance to grow. Spending time with him, teach him the brooms, the stars, and so many things.

Her heart felt heavy, and she did not dare to trail further down that path. Instead, she looked forward again and tried to focus on anything but you with the boy and Rio.

Chapter 24

[melodiousmonsters]

(Long ah post) Re-did my monster taxonomy again, now with more ranks and specificity. I shall now go into more detail about everything on there. Some taxons are grouped together for lack of anything differentiating them. Things in italics and parentheses are out of universe notes, everything else is information known to the monsters. Also yes this does mean the scientific names for the old monstiary pages are almost all inaccurate again.

Monsters are under the domain Monstra. To be put in the domain you need to be sapient and capable of breeding, some exceptions may be made for certain monsters that are clearly monsters but can’t breed. (The chart is nearly the same as the ones that are used in the modern day monster world, but the exact arrangements of species may be changed as some “monsters” aren’t even monsters but most don’t know that nor have a way to find out. Divina was added after the Wubbox were discovered, thus the addition of the last part of the previous in-world sentence as they can’t breed)

Kingdoms

(This was added after the original document was written) Divina is where the monster species made directly by gods go, a semi-waste bin taxa. The name “Divina” goes down to the genus allowing for unique species names. They seem to be immortal, and possess great power over their elements. The two monsters under the ranks are Divina mechana (Wubbox) and Divina simiservice (Enchantling). Organica contains the ordinary monsters made of living organic matter. They have living cells, can breed, and most of them need to eat, but that’s not a requirement. Inorganica contains the ordinary monsters that are made of primarily inorganic/non living matter while they are alive. They can breed, and none of them need to eat. They run entirely off of their lifeforce, but they eat sometimes for enjoyment.

Phylums

Beastia or beasts are critter-like monsters. Mondragora contains plant-like monsters (Mushrooms are plants in this universe, but there are true fungus like molds and yeasts, they just are barely researched). Reanimata or reanimated monsters are similar to the undead from ancient stories. These monsters are made of cells, but dead ones. Constructa are mainly made of non cellular materials.

Classes (not element classes those are different)

Segmenta or segmented monsters have an segmented exoskeleton composed of chitin, a nervous system primarily on their ventral side, hemolymph, a heart that is on the dorsal side, and molt to grow. Jellatina (through that to jellatidae) or jellatinous monsters are a very broad classification, a semi-wastebin taxon. Basically they don’t have a spinal cord, but aren’t segmented. Chordata or chordates have spines of some sort, even if they are very small and simple as in the inkfish(Atrapicidae). They have blood, and internal mineralized bones. Fungi (to Sporalis) or mushroom monsters have no leaves, are consumers, and aren’t like critters. They are actually a network of mycelium and what looks like their bodies are actually just puppets that are made for interacting with other monsters, and maybe aiding in breaking down food. They can shortly detach these and animate them for a bit while not connected to their mycelium, this behavior is most commonly seen in Sporalis sadisticus (Squot), but the others can do it too. Plantae (to Florales) or plant-like monsters are, well, plant-like monsters. They have chloroplasts and are autotrophs, and can absorb nutrients from soil through special membranes mostly on their feet, but some other monsters can do this too so it’s not a requirement. Instead of activating muscles with muscle fibers, they use hydraulics. They inject and retract water from special absorbent tissues that expand and shrink depending on how much water is in them. For transporting materials through their bodies they use xylem. Phantasma (to Phantidae) or phantoms are ghost-like monsters. They have no organs and instead use a special fluid called ectoplasm that does all their bodily functions like digestion, material transport, and movement. Speaking of movement ectoplasm can stay suspended mid air allowing them to float. Skelleosis (to Skelidae) or skeleton monsters are mostly made of calcified bones. They don’t need to eat, sleep, or do anything a living organism needs to do. Constructa(the class, to Mechina) are monsters that construct their bodies. They often start out by their egg morphing into their first form, and then as they gain more lifeforce as they grow they can support a larger body and add on to their forms. Incramentids (to Goleformes) are inorganic monsters that grow like an organic one rather than building themselves.

Orders

Arachnids ( to Vasucta) are segmented monsters that eat by liquifying their food with their digestive juices by injecting it into their food with fangs. Insectiformes are the segmented monsters that eat by chewing or sucking up already liquid food. Synapsids (to Mammalidae) have solid skulls with three holes in each side, differentiated teeth, warm blood, and are the only organic monsters that can have fur. Amphibians (to Amphibidae) are monsters with skin they can breathe through when wet, and solid skulls. Sauropids have solid skulls with five holes in them, and undifferentiated teeth. Piciformes or piscine monsters have skulls with multiple parts, undifferentiated teeth, and partial thermal regulation. Most have gills and lungs.

Families

Crustacean (to Crustata) monsters are Insectoid monsters that have filamentous gills that they use to breathe. Insect monsters are Insectoid monsters that breathe through spiracles. Reptilidae or reptilian monsters are cold blooded and are primarily covered in scales. Avidae or avian monsters are warm blooded sauropsids. Ossipicidae or ossipicids are piscine monsters with calcified bones. Cartelpicidae or cartelpicids are piscine monsters with cartilage bones. Atrapicidae (to Suctipedes) or inkfish are piscine monsters with beaks, very underdeveloped spines that are one or two bones. Herboceae or herbal monsters are plant-like monsters with no bark on them and instead have soft stems. Arboraceae or tree monsters are monsters with bark. Miniralidae (to Geologica) are monsters made of minerals, they typically eat the minerals that they are made of and they are then heated in a special organ called a kiln, the molten rock is then gradually pushed to the surface to cool and harden into the new surface plates of rock. How they move has been theorized to be magic based. Articinidae (to Artinzina)or artisan monsters are made of materials like wood, fabric, or other crafts materials. They grow and do everything in a magic based way.

Genuses

Insectidae - Dronsecta or dronesects are insect monsters that can open portals with their wings. Larvasa are neotonus insectoids that stay in their larval states for their entire lives. Colomu means colored wings and Colomu have colored wings instead of the clear ones other insectoids have. Insectidae is just a wastebin-taxon where the rest of the insect monsters go.

Jellatidae - Membrana have membranes around their fluid insides. Fluidum have part of their bodies as uncontained fluids, the only monster in this genus are Fluidum _____ (haven’t named the species yet) (Whimsies), wich boil the fluid to fill a sack they make to contain it, which allows them to float. Molluscus is a wastebin-taxon that contains the rest of the soft bodied monsters.

Mammalidae - Ferrae are carnivorous monsters that actively hunt things and have sharp teeth. Ruminanta are monsters that have more than 4 stomachs and eat grasses and other tough things that require a lot of digestion. Humammalia are bipedal omnivorous monsters with mostly flat teeth. Psudoreptillia are semi-cold blooded monsters with calcified skin that resemble scales. Thumpidae are monsters that share a morphological resemblance to or are Thumpidae thumpus (Thumpies), which means they have no ribs and primarily move with spring loaded bones retracted by muscles. Cabutoris exists to contain the species Cabutoris maw (Maws), which fit nowhere else.

Amphibidae - Anura have no tails, Squamosis have calcified lumps beneath their skin that make them look like they have scales.

Reptilidae - Lizardae have flat-tipped tongues. Dracoda have forked tongues. Dinodae have non-splayed-out limbs.

Avidae - Pluma have beaks and most are flighted. Humavia are bipedal and don’t have beaks, have bird-like feet, and no fur.

Ossipicedae - Squamifer have scales, Lenis don’t.

Cartelpicedae - Rayta have ray-like cartilage in their limbs, Serrata have serrated teeth which are mineralized.

Herboceae - Herbosa have proper leaves that are fairly thin, Suculata have thick leaves and store a lot of water.

Arboraceae - Ambularborae have no bark covered trunk, Trunka as the name implies, do

Phantidae - Banshee contains Banshee banshee (Whisps), and Banshee talona (Withurs). Felaspira contains Felaspira furrus (Ghatz) Felaspira serpenta (Xysters).

Skelidae - Carossis have some non-bone tissue, ossa are all bone.

[b-lessings]

why is it that so many men in the muslim community just don't know how to be great husbands. Why have so many mothers failed in their duty to raise good responsible men. They have a soft cushioned life in their mothers homes and then they seek out marriage and intentionally or unconsciously want the wife to mother them. Why is it so difficult to feel like an equal. I feel like women are so good at multi tasking and managing a huge deal of responsibilities and it's so tough when you aren't met halfway. It feels like a burden and a heavier one with kids in the picture.

Why are the muslim men of today so inadequate at leading their families. At being strong loving muslim husbands.

It's just so heartbreaking feeling like you married your person but you can't bask in your feminine energy.

Listennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn! I have talked about this a billion times with my girls!!! Aaaaaaaaaaaaah sis!!! Amen to everything you said!! Sadly, it is very very very true. But I'll break my answer into three points, and I'll start with the easiest one:

- The fact that women are so good with multitasking, yes we are, because we are the superior creation, the more developed one 😎. No but seriously, scientifically, our brains and their brains don't function the same way. I have read about this a lot before that unlike women, guys need to process things one step at a time, one thing at a time. Let's say for example you're asking your husband for a pair of socks. You'd get better results, more efficiency, if you tell him "go to my side of the closet, open the last drawer, you'll find my socks, grab me any pair" than saying "can you get me a pair of socks?", because in the second scenario he'll go into freeze mode and he will ask "where are they?" blah blah and they might as well be in front of his eyes but he won't "see" them. Whereas, as wives, we'd anticipate that he's gonna need a pair of socks and we'll get it ready before he even asks 🙃. Men's hearing skills are also not as sharp as ours tbh. Sometimes I feel like they exert selective hearing, only hearing the bare minimum, or like you need to really get their attention and make sure their eyes are alert and on you before you ask them something, smh. (Well, because most of their brain is used to figure out how to provide and how to protect blah blah blah .. oh well, that's IF THEY WERE PROVIDING AND PROTECTING tsk tsk).

Lmao, listen sis, I don't want to sound like I am frustrated with our fellow humans, there are really some decent men out there, doing their absolute best to provide for their families, may Allah swt bless them and reward them with Jannah, ameen. I just wanted to clear out the physiological or natural differences outta the way because that's just how Allah made them, and it has nothing to do with culture or upbringing. Which leads me to your first point.

- It's not about Muslim men, it's about some certain cultures rather than religion. If you are seeing this trait in Desi men or Arab men or North African men, Islam is only relevant in a way that they did not have good Islamic teaching or guidelines on how to treat their wives and how to detach from their moms, same thing for the moms who didn't raise these men per the true Islamic teachings that preach qawamah, responsibility, self-reliance, etc. Yes, these moms they failed as you said because they were over coddling their " princes ", sadly they never cut the umbilical cord. Hypothetically, they never stopped breastfeeding. Siiiigh. My ex boss once told us that a guy only becomes a man after his mom dies, but as long as she's alive he'll always be a child even if he's a grandfather. Which, back to the upbringing, is what leads to their inability and inadequacy to lead their families and to step into the role of qawamah that Allah swt entrusted them to. That is very unfortunate wallahi, and that's why the wife feels like she has to step in and fill in the gap, especially if she is too conscious, too anxious, too frustrated. This reminds me of a quote I have read somewhere " I have never known a relaxed woman, a successful woman yes, but never a relaxed woman" .. oh well, because she doesn't feel safe enough in her environment to relax, she doesn't feel safe enough to let go of control, she doesn't feel reassured enough, she has to stay on top of things and she has to always be on the move, to make sure things are getting done. This affects her mental AND physical health, and then scientists wonder why women are more prone to auto-immune diseases. Astaghfirullah.

See, Islam solved everything. Islam teaches the guys to be responsible for providing for the wife and kids, whereas the woman's job is to raise a new generation of good Muslims. But when we move further from our deen, when our values get stained by the western propaganda, when our women are forced to be slaves to capitalism, that's where the imbalance happens, and that's how the system glitches.

I really want to get @heruwrittencanvas s opinion on this, so I hope she also replies to this.

And finally, I just want to reinforce that I am not talking about all men out there, but unfortunately, it's the majority. Allahu al mustaan.

[trentaafcsblog]

Writing Challenge - Angst

“Please say something” - Leon Goretzka

Thank you to the beautiful @penguintransporter for this one 🤍

The corridor of the familiar Gründerzeit residential building seemed to be darker than it used to be; longer and wider, and yet, it was the same as when she had left it, thinking that it would be the last time that she was walking the black-and-white, tiled floor.

There was still the same dried out monstera plant in the corner, the same advertisements on the cork-board, same basket for the wet umbrellas that no one really used, and the same line-up of the vintage lamps mounted on the wall – illuminating the darkness which seemed to be present even in the middle of the sunniest days.

Emelie had to take a deep breath, exhaling softly.

To say that it didn’t feel strange to be there again, after seven months, would be a lie, and as she made her way towards the winding stairway that would take her to the fourth floor, she felt a wave of melancholy wash over her. Everything was the same, and yet it felt so different – walking down the corridor without stopping to check their mailbox, holding onto the railing, yet feeling detached from it as if she wasn’t really present; seeing only his name written on a silver plate on the doors.

She didn’t belong there any more.

Her hand was shaking as she knocked on the doors, and taking an insecure step back, she breathed out a slight and nervous breath she was holding in. She hadn’t seen nor spoken to Leon since she had moved out, wheeling the last bits of her belongings in a small suitcase while he was still at the training, proudly keeping her tears away – a flower pot with devil’s ivy pressed against her chest.

Seven months of denial, fake smiles, and crying when no one could see her.

Seven months of telling herself that she will be okay, that she needed to accept that he wasn’t part of her life any more, and that she had to move on and try to forget.

As if that was an easy thing to do.

Emelie’s heartbeat quickened when she heard the familiar sound of the locks being twisted, and when he finally opened the doors, she felt as if there was no air left in her lungs—just painful scratches while she tried to stay composed.

“Hi, Emelie,” he greeted her, giving her a small tight-lipped smile, and she waved shyly, as if they were just some random strangers, and not two people who have spent more than five years sharing the ups and downs, laughter and tears, sorrow and happiness.

“How have you been?” Emelie asked, trying to keep her voice steady, but under Leon’s gaze, she felt like she was about to crumble any second. “Sorry, I am a bit late, you know – the traffic…as usual,” she trailed off nervously as if she needed to explain herself for being late.

“Don’t worry,” Leon nodded before leaning against the door frame casually, sticking both of his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans. “I’ve been good. Yourself?”

“Same,” she smiled weakly, but his face expression didn’t change, as if he knew she was lying; as if he didn’t care. “I’ve been good, too.”

She wasn’t.

Emelie missed him, more than she dared to admit out loud, and no amount of overcrowded clubs every other weekend, new haircuts, and listening to her friends and family badmouth him—none of it helped. If anything it made her only feel miserable, lonely and reminiscent of what she once had with Leon.

They were each other’s worlds, centers of gravity – pulling one another, reading each other’s mind, and Emelie knew that what she had with him will stick to her for as long as she's breathing. Impossible to erase — a part of her body; a vital organ that kept her alive.

“Do you want to come in? We don’t have to talk at the doors,” Leon suddenly asked, pushing himself away from the door frame with ease, “it’s a bit weird, no?”

Emelie didn’t know what to say, so she only shrugged in response. She knew that it was a bad idea to follow him, and yet, when he stepped aside, her legs carried her inside as if she had no power over them, and before she knew it, Leon was closing the doors behind her, trapping her in the hallway of the place she once used to call home.

It still smelled the same - airy and clean. The walls were still white, and the side-table was still littered with envelopes, magazines, and random leaflets of his favourite take-away restaurants. His raincoat still hung where it used to, and his sports bag was on the ground, haphazardly discarded, as many times before.

The only thing that was missing was a framed photograph that used to hang on the wall – the two of them on their first hiking trip together all those years ago – all smiles and slightly sunburnt under the Pyrenees’ sun. Emelie felt her eyes brimming with tears as she stared at the discoloured spot on the wall – a simple square of shadow, silently narrating their story – a story of something that used to be, but it's not anymore.

“I am sorry,” she whispered, looking away from the wall – words rolling off of her tongue on their own accord—unstructured and unplanned. 

“For what?” he asked, picking up the box that was on the floor behind him. “For the package? It’s okay. I don’t blame your aunt for sending you a present to this address. It was probably a force of a habit. Stuff like this happens.”

Emelie forced herself to nod – her emotions boiling inside of her. 

She wasn’t sorry for the present that was delivered nto the wrong address – far from it. Emelie was sorry for everything she had done, had said, and how she acted in the past; all the times she was overprotective, jealous and overbearing. She was sorry for all the matches she had missed because she was selfishly needing time for herself, she was sorry for letting go of what they had; for not fighting harder.

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” she finally managed to say, taking the box out of his hands before holding it to her chest, and hooking her finger around the cord that held it together.

There was a brief moment of silence as Leon looked down at his watch before glancing at her. “Well…,” he started, running a hand through his hair, and Emelie could remember how his locks felt under her own fingertips—soft like a feather; comforting.

“Leon—,” she started before stopping to take a deep breath.

“Yeah?”

Now or never.

“I will probably regret this later, but I’m—I feel like I need to…” Emelie began, surprising herself with her own courage as she hugged the box tighter. It wasn’t particularly heavy, but in that moment, it weighed like a tonne. “I lied when I said that I am feeling good, because I am not,” she stopped for a second, sucking in a deep breath—her chest feeling like if it was on fire, “—I’m aware that the last year of our relationship wasn't something to be proud of, we misunderstood each other, and we said some really awful things we never should have said, but, Leon…” Emelie felt the tears prickling her eyes yet again as she glanced back at the square shadow on the wall, “Leon, I miss you. I miss what—“

“—Emelie,” he interrupted her, running a hand through his hair in frustration as he took a step back, but she couldn’t think straight. 

Her brain was racing, her heart was breaking all over again, and she needed to get rid of the heaviness that was pressing on her chest.

“Please…,” she whispered, glancing down at her shoes – the uneven wrinkles on the sides of her red Vans greeting her, “—do you think we can give it another try? We fought before and we always...”

Emelie bit down at her lip, not able to continue her thoughts. 

“Emmie,” he finally whispered, still avoiding to look at her, and her heart soared at the sound of the nickname he had for her. No one else called her Emmie. No one, but him. “Don’t ask me that…why are you doing this?”

“I think if we only sat down—talked the things through, no?” Her words were leaving her mouth quickly and desperately – running free after being trapped for too long. “I'm doing this because I still love you.”

There it goes. Four little words to break her all over again.

“Emelie,” Leon sighed quietly - both of his hands cradling his face.

They stood in silence, and below the surface of the pain she felt, Emelie was falling deeper and deeper into abyss of regret. Each second felt like an eternity; each intake of a breath unnerving and more painful than the previous one. She was watching him – his jaw clenching as he looked everywhere but her.

“Please, can you just say something?" Emelie asked in a small and timid voice, "Leon, it’s me, please—”

“—What do you want me to say, Emelie? I didn’t expect any of this—” His voice was louder than before, and it made her take a step back, and not because she was scared, but because she realised what she had done. “I miss us too sometimes, but I—,” he looked down at his own sock-clad feet. “I’ve been moving on Emelie. It's been seven months.”

“Oh—,”

“—I am seeing someone else.”

Emelie didn’t say anything, fighting back the tears as she took another small step backwards – her hands feeling sweaty as she brought the box closer to the chest. Leon was watching her – his face full of concern and a mixture of realisation, but she just smiled at him – brave as big girls do before turning around, putting her hand around the door handle; lingering for a second.

“I am happy for you,” she whispered, "I'm happy you're able to move on."

“I’m sorry, Emmie."

“Don’t be.”

Emelie felt nothing, and yet she felt thousands different emotions as she made her way downstairs. Like a ghost, she floated in the sea of the memories – tears trapped on the surface of her eyes. Pushing the heavy doors open, she exited in the sunny afternoon before looking up at the big window on the fourth floor, only to find him watching her – arms resting against the window sill.

With a small wave, she smiled up at him – one of the smiles that only a heartbroken people knew how to paint on their faces, and crossing the road, she turned her back to the past she once thought was her future.

“You wear your heartbreak like your body is a world at war; and every time a soldier dies within it he whispers one last word, and always, it is your name.” - N.G

This imagine is in collaboration with CoppaFeel! 💗 please feel free to follow the link if you would like to donate, but as always, there is no obligation 🦋 if you have the time, then please have a little look at their website and check out the amazing work that they do 🤍 they also have a free text reminder service where you can receive a monthly reminder to check your boobs, as this is something that is often forgotten about 🍒 a lot of celebrities are also ambassadors for CoppaFeel! - Perrie Edwards, Giovanna Fletcher, Frankie Bridge - so keep your eyes peeled on their social media accounts for any campaigns or fundraising events that may be coming up (they trekked through the Himalayas in 2019 and raised over £1 million!) x

[hutchhitched]

The Marrow of the Story

Written by: @hutchhitched​ 

Prompt 17: Everlark enemies to lovers, a long-standing grudge (could be anything, even simple) but somehow it is discovered that Katniss is a bone marrow match for Peeta. If she doesn’t donate he will die. [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone​]

Ratings/Warnings: E

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic and the world slowly ground to a halt. This is the eighth of the nine. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays. I wrote most of this a few months ago before getting stuck on some transitions. Since then, the teenage daughter of one of my closest friends has been diagnosed with B-Cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia and must undergo a bone marrow transplant this spring. As such, this story became much more personal than a prompt. I’m sure I’ve taken some liberties with the medical aspects and ethics of this story. They are intended for story-telling purposes only. K, I hope you enjoy my take on your prompt.

  “Ms. Everdeen, I need your signature,” my administrative assistant says briskly as she enters my office.

 “What’s this for?” I ask as I scribble my signature on the form.

 She takes the manila folder and hands me another, indicating that I need to sign it, too. “Maintenance orders. The library and those lockers in the freshman wing that don’t lock properly.”

 “Got it. Thanks.”

 “Oh, and you have a call waiting on line three. I told him you were busy, but…” She shrugs as she walks out of the room, and I sigh and drop down in my desk chair. It’s been a really long day.

 “Ms. Everdeen, Panem North. How can I help you?”

 A rumbly, entirely masculine voice reverberates through the line, and I wrap the phone cord around my left index finger. Even before he’s spoken three words, I’m already impatient for the call to end.

 “Ms. Everdeen. It’s Peeta Mellark. How are you today?”

 I narrow my eyes and resist the urge to slam the phone down in the receiver. Mr. Mellark is not my favorite person. He’s the principal at Panem South, my high school’s cross-town rival, and he and I have always clashed. It might be his smug arrogance when he explains his educational philosophy, or it could be the way he surveys me and then turns away in dismissal every time I see him. Whatever it is, I’ve never been able to stand him, and it’s obvious he feels the same if our interactions at every systemwide meeting and educational conference is any indication. My greatest fantasy consists of him being fired in disgrace. A close second is his forced transfer to another school—any school, so long as it’s out of state and I never have to see him again.

 “What do you want, Mellark?” I snap. I have so little patience today I’m afraid I might actually use profanity if he doesn’t hang up within ten seconds.

 “Doing that well, huh? Always good to hear a friendly voice when I have to contact you.”

 “I thought you were on medical leave,” I say with little compassion. It’s not my finest moment, I know that, but I really loathe this man.

 “I am,” he admits. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I really need your help. I know we’re not exactly friends, but—”

 “Friends?” I laugh. “Are you kidding me? I don’t even like you. There’s no way I’d be your friend. Not even if you were dying, and I had the cure.”

 Silence stretches across the line, and I cover my face at what I’ve said. The words are rather unforgivable, and I open my mouth to apologize when he says something I don’t expect to hear.

 “Well, I guess that answers my question. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

 “What question? You didn’t ask me anything,” I say, exasperated.

 He sighs heavily, and I almost throw the phone across the room. “Katniss—sorry, Ms. Everdeen—I don’t really know how to tell you this, so I’ll just ask you to check your email. I think you’ll find something there from me. It’s from my personal account, so you might have to look in your spam folder. It’ll explain everything. Have a good day.”

 And then he hangs up without even bothering to say goodbye. That complete and utter bastard hung up on me. I mean, I wanted him to leave me alone, but he could have at least had the courtesy to say goodbye before cutting off the conversation.

 I know I’m being unreasonable, but I don’t have time to deal with it at the moment. The last bell of the day is about to ring, and I hurry from my office to oversee students loading onto buses and wandering the parking lot as cars zip in and out of traffic. It’s one of the most nerve-wracking parts of my days, and I’ve almost forgotten Mr. Mellark’s phone call by the time I make it back to my office. If I’m lucky, I can finish within the hour and get home before dark. I hate it when the sunlight hours are so short the day quits before I do.

 I’m just about to shut down my computer when I remember the aggravating phone call. I consider forgetting about it and walking away, but something tells me to open my junk folder and see what that twit’s request is. And then I see it, and I want to throw up.

 Dear Ms. Everdeen,

I know we aren’t exactly friends, but I’ve always admired your ferocity and willingness to give everything you have for your students. Compassion in education isn’t hard to find, but the way you fight for your school, faculty, staff, and students has been inspiring to watch over the past few years.

I mean that. It’s not a ploy to win you over, even though I have a gigantic favor to ask of you.

You might remember that I’ve been on medical leave several times over the past few years. It’s difficult doing my job when I’m ill, so I’ve tried to hide the significance of my condition. The truth is I have a rare bone marrow disease that, without a transplant, is terminal.

Since this is not official business, I’m writing from my personal email, but the favor I’m asking does require your professional approval. With the upcoming blood drive in our district, health clinics have volunteered to be on hand to administer tests for the bone marrow registry. That would streamline the process and allow potentially myself and countless others in need of a transplant a match from someone who might not otherwise volunteer to be tested.

Please consider allowing your school to be part of this. It might save a life.

With admiration, Peeta Mellark

 ****

 Of course I end up giving approval. I’m not a monster, no matter what Mr. Mellark thinks. In good faith, I’m tested as well, and two weeks later, I get a phone call telling me I’m a match for someone in need. By a dramatic, ironic twist of fate, it’s Peeta Mellark who needs my marrow. Thankfully, I’m able to take some time to process, and it’s torture as I weigh the pros and cons.

 A few days pass before I work up the courage to call him. I haven’t heard from him since the phone call letting me know about the email. I’m sure his health takes up much of his energy, but I’m oddly saddened by his absence. I’m also angry with him, but that’s not fair. It’s not his fault that the favor he asked of me will result in me giving up a part of my body and DNA.

 “Hello?”

 “So, what is it you have exactly?” I ask and wince at how detached and unfeeling I sound. I’m anything but that. My squeezing heart is more than enough evidence to prove otherwise. Still, I’m barely holding it together. I can’t let go of the control or I might collapse, and then what?

 “Ms. Everdeen?”

 “Katniss. If you can ask me to consider donating bone marrow, then you can call me by my first name.”

 “Okay, Katniss.” There’s a long pause before he continues. He’s tentative when he finally says, “So, you decided to participate on top of allowing the clinic access to your school?”

 “I did, and I’ll repeat. What is it you have exactly?”

 The words sound just as cold the second time, and I hold my breath until he finally answers.

“I have something called aplastic anemia. I’ve had it since college. Been treating it with blood transfusions for the past decade or so,” he explains with no trace of self-pity or false bravado. His tone is pragmatic, which is almost heart-breaking considering what he’s facing. “There aren’t too many of us with AB- blood in the world, so, I don’t know. When I saw the option of getting more involvement, I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask for help. Directly, I mean. Instead of waiting for the system to work. The worst you could say was no, right?”

 “I’ve already said no to you several times,” I remind him, and he chuckles in response.

 “Yeah. You’ve fought me on every philosophical disagreement we’ve ever had.”

 “That’s because you have really stupid ideas about what works sometimes.”

 His chuckle morphs into a full-fledged laugh, and it makes my lips twitch. “You reject me with aplomb, too. Thanks for not holding back.”

 A grin quirks at the corner of my mouth. He’s funny, I realize. I guess I probably could have figured that out earlier if I’d ever bothered to listen to his words instead of merely hating him.

 “Well, you know. I’m not very good at making friends.”

 The words catch in my throat as I say them. It’s a true statement, but I hadn’t comprehended how much it bothered me until I heard them out loud. I don’t sound matter-of-fact like he does. Loneliness and sadness echo in my voice. I could take some lessons on self-pity from Peeta Mellark, apparently.

 “I’d like to be your friend,” he says softly.

 I blink away tears because my insides have melted into a very unprofessional puddle of goo. It’s a good thing we’re not interacting about anything regarding our jobs.

 “You just want my bone marrow,” I mumble, and my heart jumps at his soft chuckle.

 “Your bone marrow?”

 I inhale shakily and bite my lip. Finally, when I’ve regained a semblance of control, I answer in a quiet admission, “I’m a match.”

 “You’re my match?” His disbelief echoes across the line, and it breaks my heart to hear the trepidatious undercurrent in his tone.

 “I am.”

 “Oh…”

 “So, you want my bone marrow.”

 Silence stretches between us, and I hear rustling before he responds carefully. “I’ll start with that. We can talk about what else I’d like to have later.”

 His voice is warm and soothing, and I feel myself softening. I’ve known that I’m going to be his donor since I knew he needed me, but it feels more personal now. More like he’s my responsibility, my ally, and not my enemy.

 “Okay.”

 There’s a beat of silence, and then he asks tentatively, “Okay?”

 “Yeah. I’ll do it.”

 There’s almost no sound from his end of the line, just his breath in my ear. I can’t imagine what he’s thinking or feeling. It must be a massive amount of relief mixed with a hundred other emotions. Like me, I’m sure he hates asking for help, and to have to request it from me must have been terrible for him. I don’t want him to feel beholden. He doesn’t deserve to have to be grateful for the rest of his life just because he needs something I can willingly give.

 “Thank you,” he finally says, and the simplicity of it takes my breath away.

 I wonder exactly what it is he’s thanking me for—his life? For being willing to grant him a favor? For not being a complete bitch to him like I have been for the past three years? It’s the least I can do for someone who’s dying. I can’t be responsible for hitting him when he’s down.

 “Sure. Yeah, let me know the specifics. Or the hospital can or whatever. I’ll talk to you later.”

 I end the call before he can answer, or maybe he does and I just don’t hear it. I can’t bear to listen to his voice anymore. I don’t know how much I’m going to have to actually see him to complete this process, but I’m suddenly nervous. He’s melted me with just an email and a few phone conversations. If I’m in the same room with him, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep up the façade of hating him, and I need to. I can’t afford to care about him.

 The next few weeks pass in a flurry of meetings with medical professionals and preparing for the surgery. I don’t see Peeta, and he doesn’t contact me. Maybe he’s afraid I’ll change my mind, or maybe he doesn’t have any interest in actually being my friend, after all. I don’t allow myself to think about why that disappoints me. Instead, I tell myself that he’s likely dealing with his own illness and concentrating on getting as healthy as possible so he can recover quicker following the procedure. Maybe I’m just making excuses for him, but I remind myself that making a friend isn’t why I’m doing this. He doesn’t owe me anything.

 Suddenly, it’s the day of the surgery, and I’m terrified. I haven’t ever been on anesthesia before, barely been sick, and never had an IV. Now, I’m about to go under the knife for my mortal enemy. Okay, that’s overdramatic and hyperbolic, but I’m allowed that on the morning of a procedure that will result in me being cut open and part of my hip scraped away. I comfort myself by imagining the simple pleasures I’ll indulge in afterward—an overly sugared hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, some of those cheese buns I never allow myself to buy, highlights from a hairdresser instead of a box. Surely, I deserve those after opening myself up to…

 I shut down that mode of thinking and concentrate on getting to the hospital. As nervous as I am, I manage to stop thinking and let the medical professionals do their jobs. Before I can worry about anything else, I’m on a bed and being wheeled to surgery. When I count backwards, all I see are Peeta Mellark’s deep blue eyes shining at me.

 ****

 I blink awake to a concerned gaze. My sister’s next to my bed when I wake up and greets me with a smile.

 “Hello, sleepyhead. Welcome back to the world.”

 “Little Duck,” I slur with a lazy smile. “Hiiiii!”

 “How do you feel?”

 “Very fuzzy,” I admit after a sporadic inventory of myself. “And my ass hurts.”

 “I hear that happens when somebody cuts you open. I could be wrong.”

 My bubble of laughter is almost giddy, clearly an aftereffect of the anesthesia, but I still manage to ask the really important question. “When can I go home?”

 “A few hours, I think. Outpatient surgery, for the win!”

 “I’m already thinking about how long I have to sponge bathe instead of showering. An incision on my rear end is a new one for me.”

 “I bet the guy you’re giving your marrow to would be happy to help you. He must be pretty grateful,” Prim said slyly, and I roll my eyes.

 “I’m guessing he’s more concerned about not dying, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

 “I looked him up, you know. He’s very pretty.”

 “He’s also an arrogant ass.”

 “Speaking of arrogant asses…”

 “Hey! I thought I’d gotten past being maligned by the Everdeen girls.” Gale Hawthorne’s deep bass booms from the hospital room door. “Hey, Catnip.”

 “Gale! ’S so good to see you.”

 “Well, Prim called. I thought maybe I should cut my business trip short and pay you a visit.”

 I reach for him, and he crosses to me quickly. His hand wraps around mine, and the warmth grounds me. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen my childhood best friend, and his familiarity makes me feel like I might be able to handle anything. They both keep me occupied until I’m released and then help me get settled at home. Gale and I sit on the couch and catch up while Prim makes a run for takeout.

 “I couldn’t believe it when Prim called to tell me you were doing this,” he says. “Especially not for the guy you’ve been bitching to me about for the past few years.”

 “I haven’t been—”

 “I’m going to stop you right there. You have, and we both know nobody takes up that much space in your brain unless there’s something there.”

 “There’s nothing between us,” I insist and grunt when he nudges my shoulder.

 “Then maybe you should figure out if there could be. I mean, you have a vested interest in the man. You have a lot in common professionally. He’s going to live a long life because of you. Maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you were part of it.”

 “He’s in a bubble for a few months. Recovery. No germs. All that.” I’m making excuses, and he knows it. He looks at me with pity, and I want to smack him.

 “Katniss, give the guy a chance. From what you’ve told me, he’s into you. On top of the fact that he made arrangements for that massive bouquet of lilies and wildflowers over there.” He motions to the vase we brought home from the hospital. The note provides thanks for saving his life and an apology for flowers being inadequate as repayment.

 “He’s not—”

 “Give him a chance.”

 Gale’s words wash over me, and it’s like all the painful moments and deep bouts of loneliness resurface at once. No matter what’s happened between Peeta and me, I have a connection to him now that’s deeper than our usual snipping and snark. Being forced to think about him as someone with real hopes and dreams and challenges has softened me to him, but I barely know him. Why does everyone assume he wants anything more than he’s already received?

 Prim returns with food, and I’m grateful for the distraction. I promise Gale I’ll think about what he’s said as I recover, but that’s only to get him off my back. Yet, as the days pass, I can’t get Peeta Mellark out of my head. Now that I’ve saved his life, he’s got a hold on me.

 ****

 I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s not like I expect anything from him. I’m just stopping by to see how he is, and that’s it. No expectations, no nothing. Just an attempt to make sure he’s feeling better after the transplant. I shouldn’t even be able to see him, but I called the hospital, explained the situation, and found out I’ve been approved for visiting for the past couple of weeks. Peeta must have added me to his approved list, which makes me remarkably happy. It’s been a month since the bone marrow transplant, and Peeta’s body seems to be accepting it with no problem.

 Besides, no one can fault me for checking in on a sick colleague. It’s practically expected as part of my job. Except, that’s a lie. I’m not checking on anyone else who calls into work sick, but, then again, no one else called in because they had a disease that resulted in some of my own body inserted into them.

 Which sounds dirty and definitely not what I should be thinking as I knock on his hospital door and peer into the room.

 “Katniss!” he says as his beautiful blue eyes light up. “Please, come in.”

 “I, uh… I just thought I’d check on you. Make sure my bone marrow is behaving. Not giving you any trouble.”

 Oh, hell. I sound like an idiot.

 “Doing beautifully. It’s almost like it knows it’ll be in trouble if it acts up. Must be the principal coming out in us.”

 “Behavior issues are the least favorite part of my job.”

 “Same,” he chuckles and waves me to the chair. “Sit, if you have a minute. I’d like to thank you—”

 “No,” I insist. “No, you don’t have to do that.”

 “Katniss, you saved my life,” he sighs. “The least you can do is let me thank you properly. Let me take you dinner sometime or something. In fact, yes. I need to do that. No expectations, no nothing. Just dinner.”

 I feel an uncomfortable pang in my stomach as I hear my own thoughts repeated back to me. It’s almost like he can see inside my brain, and that’s terrifying.

 “Fine,” I concede. “Dinner, but not until you’re completely recovered. I don’t want to be cause for a setback.”

 “I can handle that,” he agrees and then gives me a soft, beautiful smile so incredibly shy that it feels like he’s only ever shown it to me.

 I don’t even want to think about why I’m floating as I leave the hospital.

 ****

 It’s another few months before Peeta finally insists he’s well enough and calls and invites me to the dinner I agreed to when he was in the hospital. His recovery has been rapid, and I hear through the grapevine he’s back at work and seemingly cured. I don’t know enough about his disease to know if he’s healing faster than normal or not, but I breathe easier when I hear the news. That is, until the phone rings.

 “Katniss Everdeen. My savior,” he says when I answer.

 “Oh, please don’t,” I gulp. “I’m no savior.”

 He chuckles at my discomfort but it’s clear it’s not with any sort of malice. “Sorry. That might have been hyperbole.”

 “You think?”

 “Maybe. Maybe not. I would like to see when you’re free for dinner. You’ve put me off long enough. I demand satisfaction. I mean, my belly does. In other words, I need food, and now that I feel well enough to consume copious amounts of it, I’d really love some company as I do that. Who better than the woman who made it happen?”

 He’s so charming it makes my toes curl, which is not at all what I want. Because how am I supposed to resist that adorable smirk I know is plastered across his face when he’s sitting across the table from me and plying me with delicious food? He’s supposed to be my nemesis, and I’m not strong enough to deny him when he’s not only good and kind but also a survivor of a rare disease. I mean, that’s not even playing fair.

 “You don’t have to buy me dinner,” I start, but he interrupts before I can get any farther.

 “If I remember correctly, you agreed to this back in the hospital, and I know you always keep your word. I wore you down, and you said you’d go with me. Don’t go backing out on me now,” he chides. His tone remains light-hearted as he speaks, but I detect a hint of hurt below the surface. My willingness to concur seems important to him. Why, I’m not sure, but the last thing I want to do is break the fragile truce that had somehow emerged between us.

 “I’ve got some back to school things coming up, so my nights are pretty full,” I protest feebly, but he just waits patiently until I relent. “Fine. Next Thursday. Does that work?”

 “Of course.”

 “Don’t you have meetings, too? You haven’t resigned, and I haven’t heard about it, have you?”

 “No, nothing like that,” he laughs. “I’ve just been given stringent orders from Superintendent Crane to take it easy. My assistant principal is covering anything at night until October.”

 “Lucky you.”

 “I have a good staff,” he deflects. “Next Thursday. I’ll pick you up.”

 “No! I can meet—”

 But he’s already disconnected the call. I don’t even bother to wonder how he’ll figure out my address. I don’t put anything past him anymore. Other than the life-threatening illness, he seems to have beaten, Peeta Mellark has the best luck of anyone I’ve ever known.

 ****

 “And then I lowered my hand and answered him in the most serious tone possible. I could hardly keep a straight face because I had fake buck teeth in. The poor kid looked at me like I was insane, but he didn’t ever wear the vampire teeth in class again.”

 I can’t help myself as I giggle at Peeta’s story. I never giggle. It isn’t like me at all, but Peeta’s so funny and disarming over dinner, regaling me with story after story of strange behavior modifications he’d tried when he was an assistant principal and mostly in charge of discipline issues.

 “I’ve gotta admit,” he says ruefully, “I don’t really miss that part of the job now that I’m head principal.”

 “No, I can imagine you wouldn’t,” I agree with a smile.

 Lifting my wine glass, I look at him over the rim and take a sip of the pinot. I dreaded this dinner all week, but it’s been the highlight of a pretty rough few days. I certainly wasn’t expecting to enjoy his company so much, not even after getting to know him a little bit better during his recovery. I thought his charm might wear off at some point, but he just gets more and more disarming the longer we talk. If I didn’t know better, I might think I actually like him, but that’s ridiculous. I’m just glad to have company over dinner. That’s all this is.

 My cheeks flush when Peeta grins at me and sits back in his chair. He’s kept up a steady stream of witty repartee throughout the evening, but now he merely surveys me as the soft sounds of the dining room echo around us. It’s almost intimate.

 “I can’t tell you how much I’m enjoying this,” he finally says. “And how grateful I am for what you did for me. I know it wasn’t an easy choice, but you… You’re an amazing woman, Katniss Everdeen. I’m in your debt forever.”

 I don’t know how to answer him because I can tell he’s completely sincere. He’s not gushing or trying to butter me up. He’s genuine in his words and actions, and I’m stuck feeling guilty for treating him so poorly before his illness threw us together.

 “You really don’t have to thank me anymore,” I insist. “It’s not necessary at all. I mean, what kind of an asshole would I be if I hadn’t agreed to help you? Besides, you’re a fellow principal. Administrators unite and all that.”

 “Stop deflecting,” he said. “You did something really great, and it’s okay for you to take credit for it.”

 Flustered, I fiddle with my napkin because I don’t want to say something stupid. He has a way of making me tongue-tied that I haven’t felt since I was a teenager. “Thanks,” I manage to mumble.

 “Thank you.”

 I hesitate but finally manage to choke, “You’re welcome.”

 “I’d like to do this again. If you’re willing.”

 His voice feels like a caress, and I lift my eyes to look at him. He’s studying me, unsmiling but not frowning, and I’m struck by how handsome he is in the dimmed light. He reaches across the table and holds his hand out to me. I stare at it for several seconds before I’m willing to reach out and accept it. He gives it a squeeze.

 “How about next week? Is that too soon?”

 “I— I need to check my calendar.”

 “I already did. No school activities.”

 “Are you—”

 “I’m sure,” he insists. “Please.”

 I don’t have a good excuse for saying no, so I agree. I’m still in a daze when he pulls the car to a stop in front of my house and gets out to walk me to the door. He leans in to kiss my check, but I turn my head at just the wrong time. His lips hover millimeters from my skin, and I struggle to breathe. After what feels like an eternity, he tilts his head and brushes his mouth over mine.

 The earth skews off its axis. There’s no other way to describe what happens because my entire world rearranges itself in that brief moment. Much too soon, he’s backed down the sidewalk and waves goodbye to me from his car before pulling away.

 ****

 I’m a mess by the next Friday when Peeta picks me up again for our second dinner together. I don’t know whether to call it a date or not, but the kiss the previous week indicates it could be. The night passes much the same as the previous week. He’s charming and funny and wearing the most stunning shade of green that makes his eyes sparkle turquoise. They do things to my insides. He’s a perfect gentleman as he drives me home again, walks me to the door, and kisses me softly. The situation repeats on the third and fourth and fifth time until I’m so wound up, I’m about to lose my mind. I don’t mean to complain, but my body wants more than what he’s offering.

 I can’t tell if it’s deliberate or just really bad luck that our schedules don’t align for another few weeks. The days pass slowly without seeing him, although we do talk often. Some of his messages and emails make me smile when I read them, while others make me wonder if he’s flirting with me or simply being his usual friendly self.

 I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out what’s happening between us. The conversation I had with Gale after my surgery flits in and out of my conscious thoughts. I don’t want to open myself up. I’ve been hurt too many times in the past, but Peeta’s wonderful—smart, compassionate, funny, respectful, and supportive. He’s also got a backbone and knows how to advocate for himself and others around him. In short, he’s exactly what I’ve always desired in a partner. It scares me to death to acknowledge that I want him to be a bigger part of my life. It terrifies me to realize I can also picture him in my bed.

 Finally, we both have an evening without a work responsibility, and he asks if he can come over and make dinner when I tell him I’m simply too tired to dress up and go out to a restaurant. By the time he shows up on my doorstep with bags of groceries, my stomach’s in knots. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, it feels like we’re starting all over again.

 He looks insanely good after having filled out a little since the transplant. His broad shoulders are strong underneath the soft cotton of his salmon colored sweater, and the jeans he’s wearing hug his thighs and hips like a second skin. When he turns around so I can inadvertently check out his ass, I swoon at the sight. I want my hands on that peach so badly my fingertips tingle.

 He leans in to kiss me hello, and time stands still. He pauses once he’s broken the kiss, and we stare at each other for what feels like ages. Something’s changed. We’ve evolved. Our relationship’s grown while we’ve been apart. The air crackles with anticipation, and I’m beyond ready. Finally, he recovers and surveys me, taking in my black leggings, forest green tunic, and braid with a whistle. I flush scarlet at the flattery.

 “Good thing I have these bags to occupy my hands,” he teases, but I swallow down disappointment. He doesn’t seem that interested in touching me, and that makes me feel like howling my disapproval.

 “Maybe I should help. Give your hands a chance to…uh…stray.”

 He whips his head around to stare at me, uncertainty mixing with something I can’t quite decipher. When I don’t drop my gaze, he gulps before heading into the kitchen and tossing the food on the counter. He makes himself busy while I flit around him, unsure what to do. When he finally turns his megawatt smile on me and asks me if I’d be okay cutting vegetables, I nod eagerly. If it puts me closer to him, I’m completely game. He positions me in front of a stack of carrots, potatoes, and mushrooms and turns to his own work.

 We keep up a steady stream of chatter that grows increasingly flirtatious as the minutes pass. He brushes against me several times, and I can feel the electricity sparking between us. When he reaches over to take some of the diced potatoes, our hands brush, and we both jump.

 “Peeta,” I sigh a second before he’s pressed against me, his chest hard against mine as he cups my jaw and kisses me.

 I growl in the back of my throat at the feel of his tongue tangling with mine, and he hauls me tighter against him. He wraps my braid around his hand and tugs my head back so he can lick deeper into me. I’m shaking with desire, frantic for his hands on me. We’ve been circling each other for four years. The months since I agreed to donate my bone marrow have all been foreplay. I’m ready to give into the craving I’ve denied for far too long.

 I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer. My hands tangle in his hair, and I can’t stop the wanting whimpers that fall from me. He’s just as frantic, his hands caressing everything he can reach, until they both cup my behind and squeeze.

 I realize I want to climb him like a tree. There’s no shame in admitting it. His body’s hard under his clothing, and he’s rigid as iron against my hip. When he thrusts his right hand under the waistband of my leggings, I don’t even try to stop him. Instead, I moan when his fingers stroke the patch of hair between my legs.

 “Fuck,” he gasps. “Katniss, tell me to stop if this isn’t okay. This is— You’re… You have to stop me now if you’re going to.”

 I don’t stop him. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. My limbs aren’t working other than to cling to him. My eyes roll back into my head when he breaches me. His mouth works magic while his fingers plunder and stroke. I’m begging him, my voice hoarse and broken. It’s been so very long, and I don’t have the patience to wait anymore.

 I’m pressed against the counter, my back bent as he fingers me. I don’t care about dinner or anything else except the feel of his calloused palm cupping me while he dips in and out in an uneven rhythm designed to stop me from falling over the edge too soon. His breaths are ragged, and I wrap my left leg around him to pull him closer. It also gives him better access, which he uses to his advantage.

 I’m sopping wet, squelching as he thrusts in and out, his thumb circling my clit and forcing wrecked squeals I’ve never made until experiencing the glory of Peeta Mellark finger fucking me in my own kitchen. My whole body trembles as the tension builds. I just need a release. That’s all I care about in the moment. The entire world could be exploding outside, and I wouldn’t care. He’s driving me crazy, and I don’t want to be sane. I just need him.

 “I’ve wanted this for so long, sweetheart,” he groans in my ear. “Wanted to feel you on me, hot and wet and sweet. I’ve dreamed about making you come. Imagined it so many times. Wanted to feel you fall apart because of me. You’re almost there, aren’t you, honey? I can tell you’re trying so hard not to let go. I’ve got you. I won’t hurt you.”

 I’ve abandoned all sense of propriety. I’m moaning and rutting against him. I don’t know who I am anymore, but then everything makes sense in a rush of euphoria. I come with a scream that Peeta swallows with his kiss. He holds me close, rocking me through the spasms, grounding me, and cheering me on as I quake and shudder.

 I blink as I come back to myself, but he’s there. His face comes into focus, and I give him a dopey grin that makes him chuckle. He welcomes me back with a kiss as he frees his hand. My pants are moist, and I wiggle at how uncomfortable it is. Still, I think it’s worth the discomfort. I feel like walking liquid.

 “I think we burned dinner.”

 “Don’t care,” I tell him through a kiss. “We can order pizza. Not hungry anyway.”

 “Well, I am,” he jokes as he proceeds to devour me.

 We haven’t talked. I have no idea where we stand, but that doesn’t matter. Right now, Peeta’s here, alive and well, and with me. We make sure the burners are off and then I lead him to the bedroom. I don’t ever want to let go. If I could freeze this moment, I would, but I also want to see about all the others he has left simply because fate threw us together. We’ll get to the deep stuff. For now, I’ll settle for him deep inside me.

[pandemilkbread]

nine days // bakugo katsuki

author’s note: here is the sequel to paubaya! it can be read as a stand alone fic, but it’ll feel better once you read the first one. 

please enjoy ♡ please leave a like or comment if you enjoyed it,, it’ll mean alot aaaaa. also, beware. this is pretty long! 

ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏ ᴋᴀᴛsᴜᴋɪ

nine days. (angst!fic) part 1

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: It took eight, just eight days to fall in love with you; and as dense as Bakugo was, it’ll take him a lifetime (or two) to admit it.

i.

The idea of love has always been a difficult subject to comprehend. 

And to a young boy at the tender age of four, whose typical acts of love revolved on beating the crap out of anyone who dared to mess with him (or his friends, though he’d rather not call them that), the subject was more troublesome to speak out loud. 

Which was quite contrary to the Bakugo household persona that radiated pure noise throughout the whole course of the day, a feat their neighbor would love to refute if they were able to.

(how a detached and sound proof home such as theirs could release that much clamor, they hardly knew.)

However as loud as the Bakugos were, it’s a no-brainer to realize how quiet they became in regard to their own feelings. The eccentric family breathed the words “show don’t tell” like a mantra; the essence of touch being the utmost way of showing affection—something Bakugo Katsuki never truly understood until one Saturday afternoon. 

Bakugo loved his quirk. His favorite part? Not one single part, but a bunch load of favorites. 

Blasting shit into smithereens. 

Screams of wow! and cool! from his followers. 

(”the imaginary people in his head, who continually shower him with praise.” not that he’d admit it.)

The sizzle of sweat on his fingers. 

…And exactly everything else that buffed up his currently fragile ego.

The worst part? 

The smell of burnt cloth that followed his usual fits of excitement. 

The lukewarm water plummeting from the ceiling sprinklers.

…Most especially the whack that vibrated through his skull when his mother found out his only son almost managed to burn down the whole kitchen. 

He took it personally, very personally. What happened? An accident!  The All Might segment thrilled him to the point of attempting a somersault, one that he succeeded in doing! Was it his fault a measly floor couldn’t handle his greatness? Yet, how does his crappy mom reward him for this feat— a full throttle to the head. 

“Katsuki,” his father muttered, rousing him from his thoughts. The scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, forcing him to scrunch his nose in disgust. Was he so weak to need a dab of a stupid medical solution to—

“You could have gotten hurt. Don’t be stubborn.” He sighed. “Your mom was very worried.”

Bakugo grunted. ‘A pissy way of showing it!’ He’d retaliate, but the downcast glint in his father’s eyes stopped him. He was clearly worried for his son’s wellbeing. 

“...Could’ve said so.” He sputtered out. (unwillingly, of course.)

“Sometimes you have to look past words to truly understand how someone is feeling, Katsuki.” A small grin perched on Masaru’s face. “People love differently. You just need to spot how.”

ii.

“I like you! Can we please start seeing each other?”

“Hah? Who the fuck are you?”

One tear, two tears, three tears. With that, the girl ran, and down the middle school staircase she went. 

Bakugo hardly understood why he was invited to the rooftop in the first place. No. He knew a confession would take place, that was obvious. All thanks to his fellow female classmates who couldn’t stop gossiping about it. One more ‘oh God! she’s going to confess to Bakugo-san later!’ and he’d burst, literally.

No. He couldn’t grasp the whole idea of confessing your love to a stranger. Bakugo knew nothing of the teary-eyed student, except she was a crybaby. Besides, it irritated him to the point of seething. Why confess your love only to run out halfway when things go sour? 

It wasted his time. Time he could have spent training, studying, doing something important. 

Don’t misunderstand. Bakugo was not a cruel person, he never was. Just one with below par conversational skills. He wanted to know the reasons, not disregard her feelings. He wanted to understand the why’s and what’s of the equation; the basis of what directed her feelings onto him. 

But, he would never accept her proposition, even if she managed to spur out a million reasons. Bakugo never saw himself in a position to love someone, it was too troublesome. Hell, he never understood the whole idea of love itself. 

He scoffed. If he had found himself fancying a person, it would be one akin to himself. 

Someone strong. 

Someone who spoke their mind. 

Someone who could handle him. 

Someone who—

Whack! A shoe smacked him out of his dazed stupor. Apparently, the friends of so-called stranger who shuffled off the rooftop in a crying heap told what transpired. The whole girl squad fashioned themselves into a line meant to reprimand his actions. 

“You could have softened the blow, you know!” One of them hissed. “In a way that wouldn’t hurt her feelings!”

“Yeah. You’re pretty selfish, Bakugo-san. You could have at least tried to hang out before deciding!” Another chided.

The act ignited his anger, leaving him an irked mess. 

Soften the blow? What did they expect him to do? Listen to the confession wholeheartedly, seemingly interested in actually dating the other party? Hell no. Why would he do so? It would only make the rejection hurt more. No matter how you put it a rejection is still a rejection; and a rejection will hurt. 

Selfish? He had done the girl a huge favor. More or less she would finally move on and treat the event as a lesson; focus on someone who had the time for affection. 

Was it his fault for not feeling the same way? Fuck no. He owed them nothing. 

“Don’t wanna. Too much of a hassle.” Bakugo sneered. 

And, oh boy were women scary. Nothing was more terrifying than a group of women who managed to suppress Hell’s fury and rage into their whole being. Hypocrites. Speaking of softening blows when one hit from any single one of them could break bones. 

God. He hated their quirks. 

(scratch that. he hated the sound of his mother’s cackling the most. ‘now what did i tell you about pissing off girls!’ she scolded.)

iii. 

Bakugo was a lot of things: perceptive, intelligent, strong— Hell he could list down a thousand adjectives if he wanted to. But, he was never the observant one. 

Sheer power? He was fucking amazing. 

Keen leadership? Bakugo is your guy!

Socializing skills? …Working on it. But, God yeah!

As perceptive as he was, his ego took a bit of a hit the moment he crashed into her. And as much as he would like to boast it was her fault in the first place, with the stacks of books that perched on her forearms, he knew better than to daze off in the middle of a crowded hallway. 

The books shook in momentum, and in return one hand steadied the massive collection. The blonde Pikachu outwardly reached out preventing the crash, a feat Kaminari would evidently use as a bragging tool later on. 

“Ah, sorry about that! Spiky over here’s in a daze after the math quiz,” Kaminari snickered. 

“Says the cheater who got caught on question one.” Bakugo retorted with an eyeroll to match. 

The other person in question huffed out a breathy laugh, the books shook once again in reaction, forcing her to side step to balance them out. “That’s fine. Sorry for blocking the way too.” The stranger reassured. 

By then, Bakugo’s stomach growled. God was he hungry. He casually followed the flow of people toward the lunch area. A few steps later his blonde companion tapped him on the shoulder, almost frantically. 

“I-I’mma help carry the books to—” Kaminari whipped his head back and forth at him and the other person walking the opposite direction. “So... yeah! Go without me!”   

Bakugo grunted. A non-verbal consent which easily meant “go, I don’t care”, or more likely “bye. i’m fucking hungry”. He couldn’t understand why Kaminari would go that far for someone he barely knew, especially when their whole body was covered by the stacks of books. Suspicious if you asked him. 

The boy was simply unpredictable and troublesome. Nah. He had no time to think about the electrical cord, he wanted to eat. Once he arrived at the dining hall, the other three constituents of his group sat on their usual hangout place. Thankfully (he won’t admit it) the eccentric red head ordered his regular lunch for him, allowing Bakugo to immediately slide into the table. 

“Bahkuwgo! Whersh Kahmiyari?” Pinky blurted, her mouth filled with food. 

His eyebrows furrowed. Where was Pikachu? “Shithead’s busy.” 

Bakugo returned to the matter at hand, his aching stomach, and began chewing. Obviously, the angry porcupine had no time to gossip about the who, what, where, and when’s, hello? Stomach first. His ears on the other hand had no shut-off button, prompting him to listen in the conversation rather irately. 

“I told him to study! Three nights ago! And what happens? He decides to write down the whole syllabus into his hands!” 

Sero sighed. “Mina. He’s helpless and will never learn—”

“Didn’t you copy off him too?” Kirishima chortled. “I saw you look over his answers!”

The black haired boy feigned shock. “Are you assuming I cheated? I thought we were friends!” Seconds of thought later, his eyes widened in real shock. “If you saw me looking... it means you looked too!”

“Bro. I wouldn’t cheat. It’s against my honor—” 

“Oh my God! All three of you are idiots.” Mina gushed. 

“Says the girl who left the whole back page em-empty.” Sero snickered, his palm jabbing his chest to dislodge the food stuck in his throat. 

Kirishima gasped. “There’s a back page? The—”

“Hey! How do you know? You’re seated at the third row! So you’ve really been chea—”

The thwack of a lunch tray interrupted the conversation, an achievement only possible by the fourth idiot of the group. The lightning bolt returned from the alleged errand in a sputtering mess; like he would be when overloaded by his quirk, almost but not quite. 

“Denki! What took you so long? I bet Aizawa-sensei decided to talk some sense into you!” Mina teased, tilting her head in confusion when the blonde suddenly dazed off. 

Bakugo smacked the Kaminari on the forehead, rather lightly. “...Idiot’s broken.”

“No... I met an angel...” The chargebolt mumbled. 

“Here we go again.” Sero shook his head in response. “Who is it this time?”  

“Shush! She’s here!” He hissed. “Bakugo bumped into her earlier. She had these big books—”

“Bro! That’s no way to talk to a girl—” 

“No! Not that! Real books! So, they were heavy and... Yeah. I helped her carry them to Recovery Girl— and yeah!” 

“You’re not making any sense.” Sero advised. 

“Shut up! She might hear us!” Kaminari gawked. “...She’s so pretty...”

Four sets of eyes travelled towards the person the Pikachu was ogling at, a silent agreement among all five of them to be as unsuspecting as possible. Evidently, she was a simple normal high school girl whose smile seemed to radiate glee likely from her co-classmates who sat with her. 

Bakugo surveyed her face, and then onto her gestures and actions. A Goddess? Huh. The girl seemed pretty normal to him, no one special. Kaminari unmistakably gushed over another woman, like he usually did for no reason at all. 

“Where’s she from?” Bakugo asked, rather boredly.

“Ah, yeah! I don’t know.” The lover-boy continued ogling. “...She’s not from the Hero department for sure.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” 

iv. 

Bakugo hated many things; failing tests (he’s too smart to fail), winning without actual merit, God he despises losing even more, Deku (he doesn’t actually, too prideful to oppose it though), nagging— He hates Aizawa’s nagging the most. 

It must have something to do with the nonchalant tone, more like dead and spiritless if you asked him, the all knowing attitude, the deep timbre of ‘Bakugo. Fix that up. If I find out you’ve been bleeding all over the floor. Good luck.’, the threatening staring contest thereafter, and the resolution: him walking furiously to the nurses’ office. 

He groaned. It was a tiny scratch. Maybe a bruise, or two. The gash on his temple stung, not just physically. The reason why he was cut in the first place was all because of shitty Pikachu blabbing about his fucking angel. If he said “You’re just jeaaaalous” one more time, he would explode. 

Bakugo warned him. Multiple times. Kirishima could vouch it. But, no. Bolty decided to repeat the phrase manifold of times, leading him to screech a “shut the fuck up!”, causing Pinky to scream, in succession scared Shitty Hair forcing him to activate his quirk—

Fuck that. In short, it was all thanks to the living and breathing phone charger. 

Bakugo gripped the clinic door and slammed it open. The quicker he found Recovery Girl the quicker he returned to class and beat the shit out of Pikachu. Yeah. He’d do that, but instead he found her. 

For fucks sake. The indirect reason why he was in this state. 

He marched toward the desk, dragging his feet in a somewhat stomping manner. The way she blankly stared irritated him more. Was she just going to stare? Bakugo rolled his eyes. Did she think he was pathetic to come in for a slight scratch?

He had no choice. Not his fucking choice. 

“What the fuck are you looking at?” 

Finally. The girl roused from her state of daze and stood up. Now all he needed to do was ask— nah, he’d wait for the head nurse himself. 

The other person in the room darted her eyes to him and a clock on the wall almost quizzically, as if she was contemplating what to do. With that, she spun around and faced him. 

“She’s not here. Bear with it for a sec, let me get something to help.” She mumbled. 

Oh? The girl wasn’t a bystander after all. She reached for a small kit inside a cabinet in the wall. Her hands then beckoned to a chair and it was his cue to sit down. 

This gave him ample time to observe the woman who’s been driving him nuts. Through the oddball Kaminari of course. 

First of all, she was no goddess. Looked more like an enraged chipmunk on Christmas morning. Her cheeks puffed up in concentration, dabbing antiseptic on his temple. How Kaminari fell for her, he had no idea. Not surprising though, he’d fall for the whole female populace if he had the time for it. 

Second, why the fuck would he be jealous! What was there to be jealous about? Pikachu should be the envious one. The girl he fawned for happened to be the same woman in charge of cleaning his wounds. No. Not wounds. Scratches. Stupid scratches. Her eyes glazed in utter focus at the task of hand, this beat Kaminari’s “watching habits” any day. 

Hell, he was a tad excited. Using this incident as a tool to finally make the idiot shut up. The imminent power he’d have over the crappy blonde. He would bring it up on every occasion possible, well— not every one. Bakugo did have mercy for the goofball. So, maybe five times a week. Almost enough to make up for all the weeks of his bantering. 

Third, he thought, wouldn’t it be better if he introduced you to Kaminari instead? Yeah, he barely knew you. Even so, it was worth a shot. Maybe referring you to the Pikachu would be better in the long run. Maybe, the experience could humble him. Bakugo shook his head. No. Even if he managed to coerce you into meeting Bolty, there was no guarantee you’d actually like him. 

Then there was the impending heartbreak and sobbing and whining and complaining. Nevermind. He’d go through so much shit for a tiny bit of satisfaction. Scratch that. 

Anyway, what was so great about you? You weren’t from the hero course. Obviously. Bakugo knew most of the students from that department. Although he couldn’t remember names, faces seemed to pop up in his mind. You didn’t have an awesome quirk. Hell, if you did, he recalled no one who looked like you from the sports festival. Business department? He assumed people like them don’t intern for the clinic. General department then? 

Bakugo growled. Why was he trying to understand you? You were nothing to him. A simple stranger who crossed paths with first time, and highly for the last time once the whole ordeal was over. God. He’ll kill Kaminari for this. 

At that instant, Bakugo felt repetitive pressure on head. It took him a few seconds to realize she patted him. Like a kid!? Fuck no. His ego couldn’t take her treating him as a child. A small vein popped on his forehead and when he was about to berate her for her actions, apparently she spoke first. 

“Good boy, you can leave now.” With. A. Matching. Grin.

Fuck no. This was worse. You didn’t treat him as a child, he was a pet to you! A pet? Why a pet!? He wanted to wipe that dumb smile off your face. You were exactly more annoying than Pikachu ever was! 

Her cheeks flooded pink from the small laugh she released.  Bakugo’s eyes hovered over to yours and one though popped up: cute. 

What. The. Actual. Fuck. 

Imaginary steam evaporated from the top of his head. Cute? Cute! Gross. The woman in front of him wasn’t cute. She was fucking annoying. He bet his mind spelled u.g.l.y wrong. The scratch on his head fucked up his intellect. 

Bakugo immediately stood up, pointing an accusing finger at her. “What’dya call me, ugly!?”

v. 

Anyone who thought Bakugo was the type of person to run away from a fight would be met with the indignant monster himself, threatening the offender with fury akin to the devil.  

It’ll take a million years before Bakugo willingly scampered off the battlefield without dealing a punch (or two). 

However it would take longer for him to admit he was running away from you. No. He wasn’t ‘running’ per se, he was observing the situation. The whole clinic event left him irked and in a sense, intrigued. 

Now that he thought about it, anyone who met his “angry” side were prone to either a. running; b. crying; c. anger; and d. all of the above; and in rare cases: e. laughing. He assumed anyone who laughed at him after his usual feats of anger were the real creepy ones— or idiots reincarnate. 

The moment he knew of her existence, he found himself noticing her more and more. He remembered specs of her daily routine from mere perception, something he hated he did, yet couldn’t stop. 

She hated tomatoes, he gathered from a passing conversation on the way to the lunch room. 

She hated snakes even more. Something to do with a childhood fear that forced her to go to the hospital. 

She loved reading, he presumed with all the books she had on the top of the desk in the library. 

As much as it irritated him to realize she took up a part of his thoughts (a big part, really), it pisses him off further when she spotted him looking at her as well. That led her to offer him a smile, sometimes a nose scrunch, other days furrowed eyebrows in confusion, but most of the time you never noticed the blonde hero student glancing at your direction. 

Well, that’s fine with him. More time to speculate the shitty woman who managed to take up his time. 

She took the courage to approach him one day. Bakugo knew she headed to his table in the library. So what does he do the moment her eyes met his in an attempt to introduce herself? Run. He fucking runs. 

An accomplishment that only happened when the world split into two. 

Yet, here were are on Day Four: Bakugo Ignores Gen. Girl to Restore His Self-Esteem. Part one of the “he was caught looking multiple times and almost confronted” franchise. This happened for quite a while, pretty easy actually. Both of your schedules never met, the only times he caught a whip of your existence were in the library (your humble abode) and the clinic (your humble abode part two). 

Obviously, he avoided both places like the plague. 

His plan worked for a while. 

(for the first five days, honestly.)

Bakugo’s broke his streak one lunch afternoon. He caught her eye the exact moment she looked at his, inciting a silent battle of leering. She grinned set out to stir his anger and he glared right back. The fight lasted for minutes neither parties admitting defeat, earning the attention of his fellow lunchmates. 

“Bakugo? Could you teach me this later?” Mina pleaded. “If I fail one more quiz I’d be dumber than Denki!” 

“Hey! I studied this time. I bet I might get a higher score than Midoriya this time!” Kaminari disagreed, flicking the girl’s forehead. 

“Finish eating already. We might be late again...” Sero sighed. “God. Aizawa-sensei gives me the chills...”

The red head of the group noticed Bakugo’s full tray and focused glare first. Kirishima lightly tapped the blonde, earning a grunt in response. Kirishima’s eyes then followed his line of sight to see the girl Kaminari has been talking about nonstop, and stop he did weeks ago. 

“Ah. You know her, Bakugo?” Kirishima whispered. “You might... with that staring contest going on between you.”

“No. I don’t.” Bakugo scowled, in concentration. 

Sero, who was in close proximity, heard the short discussion and pulled the other blonde by the ear. “Yo, Denki. Isn’t that Goddess #18?” 

“Ah!” Denki immediately covered his ears. “Stop! Can’t handle it! Don’t even mention her anymore— Bakugo ruined the whole experience! Remember Goddess #20? Yes. I’mma stick with her.”

“Woah... Bakugo that’s one intense stare you have. Don’t tell me... you’re dating her!” Mina gushed. “Denki you never stood a chance!” She laughed. 

“Who would like that— ugly!” Bakugo chided. 

“No wonder you hated it. You were reaaaally jealous, huh?” The Pikachu sang. “It’s fine with me. You have my permission.” 

Bakugo fumed. “I don’t need your permission to do anything!” 

Kirishima blinked. “Oh, you were serious, bro? You do like her?” 

“You’re all fucking annoying! Shut the fuck up!” 

Sero grinned, a wide cheshire smile. “You know what this means? Time to meet the princess who stunned the angry dragon.” He stood up. 

Mina understood the signal and followed suit. “Watch Bakugo for us, Kiri! We’re going to— Denki. You’re coming too.” She pulled the latter by the arm, dragging him unwillingly. 

“I don’t wanna!” Kaminari cried. 

“Hurry up. She could have pretty friends—”

“Ah? Let’s go.” The blonde picked up his weight and dashed. 

The remaining two students sat in silence. Bakugo groaned in frustration. He’s going to kill all four of them. Maybe a slower death for Spiky Hair since he called their attention in the first place. Bakugo smacked his head on the table. 

For fucks sake. Out of all the times they had to notice, why now? God. He hated his friends. 

Kirishima patted his back, gently. He did not want to enrage the irritated Bakugo even further. “There’s no harm in meeting someone new, right? Think of it as a — fun experience.”

Fun, alright. Bakugo was going to have fun beating his friends up. 

(says the angry pomeranian who heeded, and plomped down on the seat next to the stranger— not so unfamiliar anymore, almost happily. well, in his own way.)

vi. 

You and Bakugo were polar opposites; the duo that clashed every second possible. 

Believe it or not, the slightest of jabs ignited an argument so intense that calling the fire department would be justifiable. 

(alright. this may sound over dramatic. but, hey. it came from kaminari himself. dramatics beget drama.)

One argument in particular stood out among the rest. It started little, truly. A small squabble, really. 

Bakugo preferred sweets, she hated them. 

He liked mathematics, she detested the subject.

He thrived with attention, she favored staying in the sidelines. 

He loved the winter, she wished for summer. 

And one phrase led to another, one plain phrase led to an even more painful prick, and in conclusion—

“You’re quirkless. Stop complaining.”

happened. 

Bakugo never meant for the remark to hurt your feelings. It was a smooth attempt to disguise his embarrassment; you begged to hold his hand. Utterances of ‘we’re friends!’ and ‘don’t be shy!’ irked him. How the fuck was it possible to stay calm when the simplest brush of your hand against his, sent him into a frenzy?

Safety. He rebutted. It was for your safety. As much as he’d like to hold your hand with his—

(he’d die before admitting it, though.)

that quirk of his, stopped him. Sweat triggered his quirk. The very instance of the substance forming in his hands could cause an explosion. He doubted you’d be thankful spending Christmas in a hospital, your parents resorting to call a lawsuit. 

Was warmth a suitable reason to lose an arm? Hell no. Bakugo knew you hated winter, and all sorts of cold weather. Yet, he’s not stupid enough to risk your safety for something so... immaterial. 

Her words of ‘you’re selfish, Bakugo!’ prickled his skin. It was an innocent jab, he knew it was a joke. Still, if you haven’t understood the way his quirk worked. He thought it would be better for you to learn the hard way. 

And bingo. Bakugo said it. 

“You’re quirkless. Stop complaining.” 

Little did he know those words impacted his companion harsher than he initially thought. 

A small forced laugh came from your lips, compelling you to step sideward. An attempt to move yourself farther from him. “We should hurry up. I don’t think they’d like cold pizza.” 

Bakugo nodded, unconsciously watching your every move. He understood the topic of your quirklessness was taboo. A sort of innermost disappointment, and the focus of childhood bullying. He should have phrased it in a better way... a small part of him thought maybe, you wouldn’t get hurt, a way to attest your friendship. 

He grunted. His mom would kill him if she found out it was his fault. And knowing the woman’s personality, he preferred not being chewed out in front of his schoolmates. With a sigh, Bakugo unshuffled his muffler and wrapped it around his female buddy. 

“Next time, wear something thicker. I won’t always be here to save your ass.”

Her eyes blinked in succession. Her eyebrows furrowed after. Roughly, comprehending his actions. 

She beamed. “Oh? Is little Bakugo apologizing?” Her fingers twisted the pizza box, forcing it onto his hands. “Then carry this ‘oh holy’ one. I might forgive you then.”

“Fine. Crappy woman.” Bakugo grumbled, tugging her forward by pulling his muffler. “Hurry. I’m hungry.”

By 5:30 P.M., the pizza deliverers (Bakugo and her, the idiots who lost at rock, paper, scissors) arrived at the Bakugo household with the food. The appearance of the two prompted cheers and yells from Mina, Kaminari, and Sero who huddled on the couch. 

“What took you so long? Imagine listening to Denki sing the karaoke for hours!” Mina whined. 

Sero jested. “Next time, we forget inviting him. This early Christmas celebration can carry itself without his presence.”

“Get the fucking pizza yourself then! Stupid crowds hogging the whole pizza place...” Bakugo threw the box at the group, instantaneously, marching towards Kirishima.  

“Bakugo! B-Becareful!” Kaminari worried. “If it’s destroyed... you... get a new one!”

Heh. Like the expensive meal couldn’t handle a bit of force. Bakugo stomped towards the redhead and took a soda from the table nearest to him. 

Kirishima rose his eyebrows. “So. Had fun?” He elicited an all-knowing grin. “I think you did.”

“Shut up!” Bakugo hissed, eyes wandering to the bundle of people on the couch. 

“You know, you’re too obvious.” He laughed. “Well, except for one of us. That one has no idea.”

“I don’t fucking know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t? Or you’re pretending not to?”

“Ugly’s a friend!” 

Kirishima hummed. “Alright, bro. I won’t pressure you into talking about it.”

A loud pop interrupted their conversation. Kaminari opened a fizzed up can of cola, the drink sprouted into Mina’s face. “I’m going to kill—”

“But, If you want something to happen though. You have to learn to speak up, Bakugo.”

vii.

“Come on, Bakugo! Just this once, please!” Mina begged. “It’ll be great for everyone! Don’t you feel sorry for Denki... He’s been cramming for days!”

“That’s what the gets for playing the whole weekend.”

“Please! I promise we’ll make it up to you!” 

“No. Too much of a hassle.”

“C’mon... Princess, help?” The pink haired student gestured to the other girl in the group. 

You sighed. “Mina, he doesn’t want to do it.”

“See, ugly agrees!”

“...Oh, wait. On the other hand, Bakugo’s too busy to teach. Mina, try asking Midoriya to help.” Her eyes met his in a stare off. “He’s got the time, especially when he’s so busy himself.”

She knew using his rival’s name as a bargaining chip kindled his anger. It was his fault for calling her such an offensive nickname in the first place. 

“Might let Pikachu teach you math too. You’re dumber at it than he is.”

“Oh? I should let him. He’s better at teaching than you are!”

Mina glanced back and forth between the two parties. A silent ‘oh boy, this will not end well.’ featured on her face. Pinky shook her head, and placed a hand on Bakugo’s shoulder. 

“It’s fine! Stop arguing, really.” Mina murmured. 

“No. She started it.”

“Don’t be a child, Bakugo! …Oh, you scared?” Ugly taunted. “I might beat your score in math.”

“Hah? You, the flunk? Fine. I’ll teach the shitty subject.” Bakugo grinned. “Any score lower than mine means you owe me one.”

And she gulped, anxiously. 

This became the humble beginnings of how Bakugo became the professor of the study group, ultimately leading to her doom. He was excited. Oh, what shit he’d make her do in retaliation. 

He agreed on the following terms: library after classes, subjects will be appointed beforehand, anyone skipping must be told in advance... and fifty other rules so on and so forth. 

And on the third week of the so-called cramming agenda, four of his classmates decided not to attend, leaving him and ugly as the remaining participants. The whole point of the activity was to teach the idiots, if they don’t show up why was he here?

Bakugo scanned through the math test he gave his companion. First, she was no idiot. There were hardly any errors, if there was, he presumed it was her faulty writing and adding. Solutions were well done, the logic was there. The problem? Yes. The idiot forgot her calculator. 

He clicked his tongue. The assumption was apparent, the whole back page had scribbles of numbers, divides, and all the shit. Why the hell did she not have a calculator? Forgetful one she was. 

And second, why the fuck was she dozing off? Sure, mathematics was a boring subject. Sure, he was a boring teacher. Sure, he was teaching them to pass the subject. They should all be grateful for his fucking effort. 

The hues of the sunset danced on her skin, the reds and oranges bounced on her hair radiating a wave of light. Her head perched on her crossed arms on the table, the head leaning slightly right. He saw the dark pigments below her eyes. 

Must have been studying hard, huh? Bakugo knew the girl was on a scholarship. It’s been discussed millions of times. He realized the pressure must have gotten to her, especially being one of the only quirkless students in the school. Seemingly, all she had to offer was her bright intellect. 

(not all. she was way better than most of the students in the whole department! bakugo punched anyone who thought otherwise.)

“...Do you like someone?” She muttered. 

What? In a split second, he focused his eyes on the girl in front of him. She stayed in the same sleepy position as earlier, convincing him she might have been talking in her sleep. Shaking his head, he returned back to the papers in his hands. 

Minutes later a sudden tap on the table prompted him to look at his companion. Her eyes gazed at him with such intensity, his stomach jumped. Somersaults, loops, rollercoasters. God. This only happened after a punch to the gut in battle. The woman was supposed to be asleep! What the fuck was she doing awake. 

Oh. So, she did ask the question. Was he supposed to answer? Silence is an answer. Knowing the girl, any answer he’d give sired more questions. God. He wanted to leave. What was the shittiest answer he could give her. Yeah.

“...Shut up, extra.” 

Perfect. Now back to the question at hand. What kind of fucked up person willingly confesses ‘You. Stupid. I like you.’ without proof the other party felt the same? It was simply a formula to fail. 

Hold. 

The. 

Fuck. 

Up. 

Did he really think he liked her? No. Brain thought wrong. Brain really thought fucking wrong. Just because he hated it when she focused on people who weren’t him doesn’t mean he likes her. Just because he’d break someone’s face for talking shit about her doesn’t mean he cares like that. Just because every retort she said in retribution turned him on doesn’t mean he wanted to kiss her. 

Fuck. He wanted to kiss her. 

Kiss her badly. 

He wanted to grab her by the collar and just kiss her. 

God. He hated it. 

The girl abruptly reached for his collar, pulling him towards her. “Who is it?” She whispered. 

Oh fuck. The cogs in his brain twisted and turned. Did he say it out loud? Did he fucking say that out loud? What the fuck was he doing? Who is it? What the fuck were you talking about? 

Who is it? Who was who? He hated cryptic messages. His eyes searched for meaning on your features. A person? Who?

Ah. You asked who he liked. 

Great. What was he supposed to say? It’s you, ugly! Wake up! He’d burn in hell before speaking up. 

One name popped up. Miruko’s agency. Rumi. The woman he was interning for. Like crap she’d find out about it. 

“Rumi, her name’s Rumi.”

viii.

12:00 P.M.

bakugo: i’m hungry

bakugo: bring ur snacks

12:50 P.M.

bakugo: u not gonna eat huh?

bakugo: suit urself brat

3:00 P.M. 

bakugo: think u gonna win the bet now aren’t ya

bakugo: keep ignoring me maggot

bakugo: fine

5:00 P.M. 

bakugo: spiky hair said to come 

bakugo: he has shitty fish crackers for food

bakugo: the fuck??????

bakugo: you ignore me and answer his calls?????

Bakugo was not an avid texter. Most of his messages consisted of ‘ok’, ‘nice’, ‘no’, curses, other single word messages, sometimes barely a reply at all. The sheer amount of effort he put into texting you proved otherwise. Yet...

Read. Read. Read. 

All of his messages sent to you were on read. What he fuck was going on? For five days, she’s been missing in action. He tried everything. 

Inviting the woman to lunch. Ignored.

Reminding her of the cram session. Bailed. 

Snacks! You loved snacks! Ignored again. 

Bakugo was this close to shoving you up against the wall and forcing the shit out of you. What did he do so wrong? Oh, was it the kiss thing? Did he say it out loud? Your face showed no clear answer at the time. Your deadpan expression irritated him. 

What if he wanted to kiss you? Was that shit so bad?

That had to be it. 

You weren’t ignoring Spiky hair, Pikachu, Duct Tape, and Pinky— then it had something to do with him. 

He grunted. Swiping the contacts on his phone, he hovered over the one named ‘Ugly’ and tapped it. Bakugo disabled the block function. 

If you weren’t talking to him, fine, he won’t fucking talk to you. 

(yes. he was that petty.)

Streams of notifications buzzed. All of them coming from you. 

Ugly: 6 P.M.

Ugly: Outside 3-A. 

Ugly: Don’t be late.

Ugly: stupid.

Fucking finally. The woman finally decided to text back. 

A meeting place? For what?

The exams were over. A celebration party then. No. Why was the location at 3A then? Oh. The bet. She wanted to compare answers for the shitty bet. 

Bakugo flicked his phone on. 6:25 P.M. 

Amazing. He was fucking late. 

The distance from the faculty room and the third year homerooms were near. It took him no time at all to stomp all the way to the designated meeting spot. Why you couldn’t have texted the shit down, he hadn’t understood. 

Bakugo sported a look of annoyance the moment he found you. Shitty woman. 

“You finally decide to text me back, shithead.” He cursed. 

The girl fashioned an amused expression. “Hm. You missed me?”

Of, course he did. How crappy of you to fill his thoughts of only you, annoy him ‘til worlds end, only for him to be forgotten and ignored. Like a thrown away puppy on the sidewalk. 

“Who would miss you, ugly.” He fumed. 

Yeah. That’s what you get for pretending he didn’t exist. You can’t leave him begging for your attention, that was something shitty fan girls did. And she stood there feigning ignorance of the whole ordeal. He bet she never even noticed he blocked her. 

She erupted in giggles, clutching her stomach as the stronghold. “I’m sorry. The exams were really difficult.”

You bet they were terrible. They had the same general education syllabus, except for major hero subjects and courses. The outright tears Pikachu shed after the math exam proved its difficulty. Bakugo bet she cried after the exam as well. 

Might figure out the task he would make her do. Something embarrassing? No. He wasn’t that cruel. A weird prank? What prank though—

“I missed you too, Katsuki.” She consoled. 

Of, course you did. Who wouldn’t miss him? The dweeb better be thankful he blessed the his friendship onto her. 

(though, he’d like a little bit more than that.)

Hah! Bakugo could force her to buy him a new muffler. The one he had disappeared (into her closet) and wanted a new one. 

Katsuki. 

Katsuki. Katsuki.

Fuck. She called him by his first name. And he only noticed it— now? Gears and cogs twirled within his consciousness. What did it mean? What did that mean? God. He hated it. Was that your way of showing your love? Did that love mean affection as relationship or love as friendship?

Fuck. He couldn’t tell. 

Yet, he knew one thing. 

He wanted to kiss you so bad. 

The snickers and giggles from the people outside the room stopped him though. His shithead friends managed to ruin it, yet again. 

Heh. Maybe next time. 

Love has always been a difficult subject to comprehend, and for Bakugo whose typical acts of love revolved around teasing, and riling you up, the subject was more troublesome to speak out loud. 

However, you were worth the trouble. 

Now, you just needed to spot how. 

[yandere-wishes]

Aquaphobia //Yandere Leviathen x reader//

Oh, have I never mentioned that I am MORTIFIED of water and literally any sea creatures...no? It must have slipped my mind.

For this story, I'm making a few assumptions. 1) Levi can turn into some sort of sea monster-like thing I'm assuming it looks like a cross between a Megladon/Giant squid/ Sea serpent. 2) He can communicate with sea creatures. 3) The giant horrifying aquarium that basically makes up his back wall is in reality linked to either an ocean or somewhere that houses a bunch of dangerous sea beings. 4) In addition to sea animal communication Levi posses Aquakinesis

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

For as long as you can remember water has always haunted you.

The large bodies of H2O particles have never failed to shake you to your very core. 

In every single nightmare you ever recall, you are drowning in one of those shallow blue celestial bodies. The colorless liquid invading your mouth, clawing its way to where your lungs rested, joyously filling and choking them. 

Sea roamers of all kinds flocked to your drowning corps, millions of eyes drinking in your defenseless form, from the beady black shark eyes to the yellow cyclops eye of a giant squid. A fraction of a second later and those beastes were sinking their fangs into your tender flesh, large tentacles wrapping themselves around an arm or leg and tugging it until it detached from the rest of your corps. 

But in the end, you always woke up, always resumed your day as if nothing had come to pass the night before, back then you knew that it was only a nightmare....however this time you weren't so sure. 

Out of all seven brothers you'd always dreaded Leviathan the most. You had nothing against his "otaku" like ways or his unkempt appearance. No, it was simply what he was that made you keep your distance. 

Yet the third born seemed to have other plans for you. Leviathan hates "normies", the average demons and humans that overpopulate the earth, mocking those like him who have hobbies and likings that are "abnormal" in their eyes, forcing them to live shameful lives of isolation. Due to the superiority of normies in all three realms Levi had never once come across someone as abnormal as himself...that was until the new exchange student had arrived. At first, they had seemed to be just like anyone else, a normal human with absolutely nothing extravagant about them. But as time progressed Levi became aware of just how similar the two of them were. She would spend hours talking to Mammon about the newest anime or the latest level of the video game she was playing. Her tone was always so excited and pure, eyes gleaming and radiating happiness. But Mammon never understood, he simply scuffed and made some degrading comment about her being a nerd or worst then Levi. 

Maybe it was then and there that Levi had decided you were the one. That if anybody angel, demon or human would ever understand him, ever be this alike to him, it would be you, it had to be.

You didn't want to go to his room. You'd avoided it like the plague after Mammon had described the bathtub bed and giant aquarium that drew its water from one of the Devildom's massive oceans. The avatar of greed had even vividly described how the ceiling tiles could pull away, reveling yet another large aquarium for a roof. 

It sounded worst than any haunted house, a place you would never dare venture into. But this time you didn't have a choice, try as you may you couldn't get out of this. 

Earlier that day you'd awaken to something cold and yet trailing down your visage. The mere texture of the substance had jolted you from your slumber, the fear of the colorless liquid had bounded itself deep into your body's habits and subconscious. Eyes dilate, body frozen, tears at the brink of falling. A moist want reached out and cupped your chin, turning your neck too briskly that you were sure you heard a few bones "pop". A squeal escaped your lips only to be met with an instantaneous "shh, be quiet".  Your (eye color) orbs landed on the third born, his eyes housed a sort of sick glee it matched the sadistic twisted smirk he dawned on his face. Maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through your veins, maybe it was the fact that you'd just awoken and your brain was still partly asleep. Either way, you could have sworn that Leviathan's teeth had somehow changed. They where long and jagged, bending at roots were they sprouted from his gums, to top off the horror thin lines of thick juicy crimson highlighted the tips and betweens of his shark life teeth. 

By now you had begun to sob, tears flowing non stop from your puffy red eyes. Your body was frozen you dared not move, vocal cords had given up and your tongue laid dead at the bottom of your mouth.

"Hello, princess sleep well?" Despite it seeming so innocent there was a sort of mocking laced into the question.

You noticed something in his other hand. A large familiar blue-colored plushy with a gasmask was suffocating in this grasp. That was a rare collectible you'd somehow managed to win from a Crain game back in the human world. You never slept a night without, feeling safe whenever you held it in your embrace. When you'd arrived in the Devildom you'd practically begged Lucifer to retrieve it for you. It had taken all so many tears and tantrums, in addition, to agree to take over his chores for the course of two months. The day the firstborn had carelessly tossed it to you, had probably been the second happiest day of your life. 

Levi let out a cruel giggle as he brought your prized possession closer to your face. His long nails dug into the fabric of its forehead as he dangled it before your eyes. "It's kinda cute, what show is it from?" This time round he sounded genuin, no inanity to be heard. Yet you didn't speak still petrified and stiff. 

One heartbeat

two heartbeats

three heartbeats--

"Fine! What you won't talk to me cause you think you're better than me?!" You shook your head slowly, the gesture barely being noticeable. Yet he picked up on it. He let out another string of offensive giggles "You're scared, right? Afraid the big bad sea monster will eat you?". Oh, God how desperately you wished you could run. Find Mammon or Lucifer and cling to them. To find any means to get away from this monster. 

His fingers fell from your face, he turned without saying another word and made his way to the door. As he opened it, he called behind his shoulder. " If you want it back, come to my room at midnight and come alone" He then slammed the door abandoning you to your thoughts and terrors. 

In short, that was why you were standing in front of the door that would lead you to your personal hell. You had no desire to step foot into his room and yet it was the sole means to retrieving your stuffed monster. Hesitantly you lifter your hand to knock, your finger had not touched the wood when the door creaked open and something slithered around your arm and dragged you into Leviathan's room. 

"I-I'm h-here know p-please give it back--"

Your back collided with the cold tiled floor. You let out a scream of pain before Levi's hand was shoved over your mouth. 

"Be quiet would ya?" His orange and purple orbs gazed into your wide mortified eyes. He let out a sigh and his gaze softened. "(Y/N)...I-I've never felt this way about anyone before...well maybe Ruri-chan and Sugar Frenzy's lead singer for a short period of time, oh and this one...nevermind! Look I-I feel like your something different okay. I g-guess that I have a little crush on you. Noting big alright! But-but what do you say (Y/N) will yo be mine? We'd make a great couple! We like the exact samethings, share practically the same opinions. We are meant to be one!" Slowly he lifted his hand from your mouth, an excited smile playing at his lips, his eyes sparkled with joy and exhilaration. Maybe if you'd have time to think this trough you would have felt bad about what you next words where. 

The second his hand was removed from your mouth you shouted.

"NO! No no no no no! Never! I can't I just can't your a freaking sea monster you--"

No sooner had the words left your mouth that you felt your head accelerate forward and then get smashed on the wet hard floor. The notion repeated again and again. You where sure you were bleeding, some sort of concussion must have formed, your sight was blurry and spots were dancing everywhere. 

"You stupid normi! You tricked me! I thought you were like me! That would actually love someone like me! You made me freaking fall in love with you, you bitch!" 

He twisted your head to the side and pushed your face into the floor. "You're scared of water aren't you? Your sacred of what lives in the water too right? Is that why you don't love me (y/n)? Cause I'm some sort of water freak? Well? Damit answer me!"

"Yes" you choked out "y-yes L-Leviathan, I'm scared of you!" He let out a furious sigh, his tail wrapped around your neck and hosted you up pressing you into the glass of the aquarium. An odd noise filled to room, something alike to buzzing yet..somehow very different. "You know what's funny (y/n)? I may be some sort of freak, but I'm also the only thing keeping you safe from the horrors behind the class." 

Something was swimming closer and closer, it's figure getting bigger and bigger. The teeth and large snout and hulking dorsal fins soon became evident what was coming toward you. You screamed, the noise echoed and bounced from one wall to the next. Your throat started to bleed and go raw, your mind blank with the loud ringing of alarms or was that your heart trying to break your ribcage and runaway?

As the monstrous shark swam only a few centimeters away from the glass, you could feel the sensitivity and life drain from your corpse, blackness taking over. You tried to remain awake to grip on to conscious, darkness was not friendly for it only showed the monsters face, the image burned permanently into your brain. 

As you slipped away into a stygian dream world, Levi brought your limp body to his chest cradling you gently and sweetly kissing your forehead. He waved a hand dismissively at his "pet" and watched for a second as it swam away. He lifted you up and brought you over to his bed. Placing you carefully inside. He placed your stuffy next to you and stood up admiring the aesthetic of your sleeping form. You were so gorgeous when you weren't scared or defensive. 

"You're mine (y/n), finally! I'm never going to let anyone else come near.. you never!"

[skyemisc]

Azul Labcoat Translation

EP 1:

“I have a favor to ask”

Ramshackle Dorm

???: Please excuse me.

Grim: Hmm? It looks like someone’s here. Hey, Yuu, I’m gonna check it out!

Foyer

Azul: Yuu-san, Grim-san. Pardon the intrusion.

Grim: Gege—Azul! What’re you doing at Ramshackle dorm?

Azul: Oh, you don't need to make such an unpleasant expression there.

Azul: I’ve not come today to collect any debt. I’ve come to earnestly request your assistance.

Choice:

Request?  

This can only end up badly.

Azul: May I ask of you to assist me with Ortho-san’s maintenance?

Grim: Ortho’s maintenance?

Grim: Why would those guys at Ignihyde come to you from Octavinelle for that?

Azul: I am a member of the same club with Ortho-san’s elder brother, Idia-san. In the aforementioned club, a discussion arose.

Azul: He mentioned, “I’d like to swap out a part of his body to upgrade his performance, but I can’t do it alone.”

Grim: The idea of Idia asking you a favor seems pretty reckless…

Azul: It is because he is acquainted to few others. The thought of him bringing it up to me must have took a considerable amount of courage.

Azul: But he was determined to break out of his shell for his precious younger brother.

Azul: For Idia-san to work do his best to support that “younger brother” Ortho-san with a machine for a body…

Azul: It was a pleasant tale. The beautiful story of brotherly love had struck me to my very core.

Azul: Wouldn’t you two also consider offering you aid?

Grim:  Not at all.

Azul: Oh, straight to the point there.

Grim: This has nothing to do with me! Why do we have to help anyway?

Azul: Oh, I’ve misjudged you…or not. I expected you to express as such.

Azul: Incidentally, Grim-san. The other evening, what were you up to?

Grim: The other day? The other day you mean… Ah! Y-You…

Azul: I felt it would be rude to come empty-handed, so I’ve brought a gift. It’s a photo I took in the staff room the other day.

Azul: It displays the disorderly state Trein-sensei’s pet was found in following your quarrel in the staff room.

Grim: N-N-N-N-No you’re wrong. I-It wasn’t me.

Choice:

That’s a sorry excuse.

Photographed right on the act.

Grim: But… But it’s Lucius’ fault. He took my bread for dinner and just ran off!

Azul: Ahh, how troublesome. It seems Sensei is now seeking out the offender as well.

Azul: I’m just so shook up worrying about Ortho-san…

Azul: I might carelessly drop this photo in front of Sensei you know?

Azul: But if I could have help with Ortho-san’s situation, I’m sure I’d manage to keep this a secret.

Grim: Of course, we’d love to help you!! Right, Yuu!?

Choice:

I’ll be a poor supervisor.

If I can be of help, of course.

Azul: Ahh, wonderful! Then let’s leave for Ignihyde at once.

Ignihyde Dorm – Lounge

Idia: W-Wel-Wel…come.

Ortho: Everyone, thank you for coming here for me! Onii-san is very grateful as well.

Azul: Oh no, we must help each other out in times of need.

Idia: Azul… Is this really okay?

Azul: Fufufu. Did I not say to leave this to me?

Azul: Now, time is money. Let’s get started with the operations. Idia-san, have you finished the preparations?

Idia: Ready when you are.

Grim: What are we supposed to do?

Idia: Y-You two will be the operation force… You’ll be doing stuff like preparing, removing, and attaching Ortho’s part.

Grim: If that’s all, would you really need us to be here?

Idia: Ah, I-I-I will be doing the programming and motion control… Ortho’s framework is very complex and…um…

Azul: Ortho-san has a number of parts, doing the work alone would be impossible…is what I think he’s trying to say.

Idia: Y-Yeah…that.

Ortho: I’ve been really looking forward to this new update. I look forward to working with everyone!

Azul: Fufufu. I look forward to working with you as well.

Azul: Now then, would you please lie down. We won’t do anything excessive.

Azul: Changing out parts is similar to surgery, is it not? If anything happens, that would be dreadful.

Grim: That Azul is acting really nice towards Ortho.

Azul: I’m kind to everyone though?

Azul: To both Grim-san and Yuu-san.

Grim: Says the guy who blackmailed me with a secret photo he took!

-----

EP2

Ignihyde Dorm – Lounge

Azul: …I’ve entered the specified code. What should I do next?

Idia: Right now I’ll turn the system off and detach the external lock on his back… When I’m done, I’ll give the signal.

Grim: …Hey, Yuu. Do we really need to be here?

Grim: Azul’s taking care of the complicated parts for assembly, and he’s good with his hands so there’s no problems there.

Choice:

We’re probably more in the way

Maybe he didn’t want to do it alone

Idia: …The system’s turned off. It’s open.

Azul: Now Grim, I’ve kept you waiting! It’s your turn now.

Grim: Wha, me?

Azul: The exterior of his back has been opened. Please peek around inside.

Grim: sniff-sniff…. Ortho really is a machine. It’s all metal and cords inside.

Azul: Towards the very interior, there’s a blue glowing part right? That is the part we will be replacing.

Azul: I ask of you to remove this part and insert the new part within its place.

Grim: T-This seems like a really important role… Why don’t any of you guys do it?

Azul:  Idia-san is in taking care of the programming, and I need to insert the new password every 15 seconds.

Azul: Unfortunately, both of our hands are tied up.  …It’s a very strict security protocol.

Idia:  I-I didn’t want my dear Ortho’s contents to get stolen, so I thought to up the security… heh.

Idia: I upped it too much and can’t operate on him alone! It needs improving.

Grim: You look like you’re having fun… Weird guy.

Azul: As we work on our tasks concurrently, Grim-san, you just need to quickly swap out the parts… Simple, yes?

Grim: Well if it’s just that much it should be fine. ‘Kay, I’ll just…

Azul: Oh. Be sure to not touch any other parts that aren’t being replaced…at all costs.

Grim: That sounds kinda fishy… What happens if I do touch them? I won’t get shocked will I?

Azul: Ahaha! Why of course not. Hey, Idia-san.

Idia: Yeah. If you touch it, you wouldn’t get shocked. But…

Grim: But?

Idia: The protection software will register you as a ‘threat’ and you’ll be attacked by a high magical energy output is all.

Grim: That’s not okay at all!  That’s putting my own life on the line!

Grim: I absolutely want no part in this. I absolutely won’t do it!

Azul: Ah! I’m so shocked at your refusal I might just drop that “photo” in front of Trein-sensei…

Grim: Grr…. B-But getting attacked by that magical energy…

Azul: …I might just feel so grateful I may even pay you with a “high class canned tuna”.

Grim: Wha—That’s a great bargain! I’ll hold you to your word you know?!

Choice:

He’s so easily persuaded.

He’s powerless to canned tuna…

Grim: It’s important to put in great attention into detailed work. …Alright! Here I go!

Idia: The part came out  easily. Good. Next is…

Grim: Here!

Azul: Splendid. Now simply toss in the new part… Ah, no, it’s installed.

Ortho: …

Grim: …

Ortho: “…Confirming new media attachment.  Now loading.”

Idia: Alright we got it!!! Now we just gotta show what it’s got…! (1)

Grim: Haaaaah~~~! I was so nervous.

Idia: It gives a 10% increase in processing speed, so it should allow for heavy programs that were impossible before… Eheh.

Grim: That Idia is not listening to me at all… Show some appreciation here!

Choice:

Good work

You were cool.

Azul: Yes good work everyone. I will be taking the old removed part then.

Grim: Hey, you don’t need this dumb thing.

Grim: On top of that, Azul. We worked really hard here. You better get rid of that picture.

Grim: Also, that canned tuna! Don’t think I’ve forgotten about it.

Azul: Of course. I am a man of my word.

Azul: I will properly dispose of the photo and give you the canned tuna. I will absolutely not leave you with any resentment for today.

Azul: …I cannot allow this to cause trouble in the future,  so would you please sign this?

Grim: Yeah! I’ve fulfilled my role, so you best not forget either.

Azul: Yes. We have an agreement.

Grim: Nyahaha. He’s getting’ rid of the proof and I get my paws on canned tuna. It was a great deal.

Ortho: -------Reboot complete. Program updated with no errors.

Ortho: …Everyone, thank you so much for today!

Grim: Yeah. Be grateful.

Ortho: To be satisfied with just one tuna can… Grim desires so little, he’s so nice!

Ortho: If Azul Ashengrotto sold the old part he was given, you could eat as many tuna cans as you liked.

Grim: Huh…?

Azul: Certainly not. It would be foolish to simply sell the famous genius Idia-san’s handmade magical parts.

Azul: I plan to utilize it under best conditions to increase its value.

Grim: Huh? Huh? With Ortho’s parts… H-How many tuna cans would it be worth?

Ortho: Who knows? Perhaps enough to fill the entire gymnasium with tuna cans?

Grim: Wh-What!?

Azul: Don’t underestimate it. If it was me, I could bring forth at least twice that in value.

Grim: Azul! You put me to such dangerous work, and just took the biggest prize for yourself!?

Choice:

He really cheated you there…

Aren’t you happy about getting your canned tuna?

Azul: There’s no harm. We both signed that splendid deal right? Alright, here’s your one can of high class canned tuna.

Grim: G-Grr~~!

Azul: Ahh, I’m so please to see you accept it with such pleasure.

 ------

Note: Idia uses an expression 腕の見せ所 which is similar to “Time to show what you’ve got”. He’s mostly just expressing his skillset here.

[garagedoorinstallationil]

Self-Help Guide: Just How to Repair Your Garage Doors

Though typically lots of people open and close their garage doors three to 5 times a day, they have a tendency to take them for granted till something fails. Garage doors allow and also cumbersome, averaging 100 to 180lbs in weight, with plenty of mechanical parts to break down, and also at some point, they will. Nonetheless, with a little TLC, a garage door will have a life-span of in between 15 and also three decades.

Right Here at A1 Garage Door Service, we've seen as well as fixed practically everything that can go wrong with a garage door. While some jobs are entrusted to the specialists, there are many repairs that an owner with some functional DIY abilities can fix without having to call out an expert.

In this overview, we will check out some typical garage door repair service problems and also troubleshoot them. We have actually likewise supplied you with a handy infographic poster that you can print off and also await your garage.

Just how Does a Garage Door Work? The very best area to start is with just how a garage door works and to recognize the different parts that maintain it relocating. Essentially garage doors work by using a counterbalance system that contains either types of springtime.

The most usual of both counterbalance systems uses torsion springtimes. Torsion springtimes are horizontally affixed to a turning shaft that sits over the garage door opening. When the garage door is shutting, the springs wind up producing kept power, and when opened up, the springtimes unwind, enabling the saved energy to raise the door. Torsion springtimes are commonly more expensive than the 2nd alternative of extension springs. However, they are a lot more sturdy, much safer, and also longer-lasting, so they are taken into consideration the most effective option.

Expansion springtimes are attached to the garage door's base with a lift wire that runs a pulley system. When the garage door is shut, the springtimes stretch and also, when opened, pull back. Extension springs are much weaker and more susceptible to damage; they are also thought about much more harmful.

Another important component of your garage door system is the garage door opener. While the springs do all the heavy grunt work, the opener allows you to open as well as close your garage door at the push of a button. You have five alternatives to pick from chain drive, direct drive, belt drive, jackshaft, and also screw drive. They vary in rate, intricacy, and also tranquility, with the chain drive being the less costly however noisiest.

Added elements include; tracks on both sides of the door to keep it abreast when closing and opening up, Rollers to aid the garage door in moving along the track, and wires affixed to the springtimes to help raise the door.

Why Does My Garage Door Open by itself? If your garage door starts opening on its own, after that you could assume it's time to call Ghostbusters! Supernatural goings-on or more rational factors to consider, you'll wish to find the factor fast, leaving it open for prospective burglars or the components might place you in jeopardy of theft or damage.

One of the most common factors is likely to be a blunder made by you or the last member of the family to use the garage, specifically when they remain in a rush. If you press the remote button while driving away, can you make certain it enclosed the starting point? Possibly the first thing to inspect.

The following point to inspect is the safety sensing units designed to ensure the door reverses when closing if something is obstructing its way. Check for debris or even an accumulation of snow or ice. It is additionally feasible for one of the sensors to become misaligned or break down. If so, they will need to be replaced.

One more common factor is that the buttons on the wall opener or the remote have actually come to be stuck down; tidy the controls, and also check the wiring and also connections inside the housing.

A final check you can make is the control wiring; a wire ranges from the opener's motor system in the center of the ceiling tracks to the control switch placed on the wall surface. A short circuit or a bare area can well be the root cause of your garage door opening up on its own.

Why Won't my Garage Doors Close? Just like a garage door that keeps opening by itself accord, a garage door that will not shut might position a danger to the safety of your garage and leave it exposed to the elements.

We have actually currently reviewed the safety sensing units and also how they are designed to open if they detect an object in the garage door course. If either of the photosensors has dirt on them or one is not in accordance with the various other, they can avoid the garage door from closing. Additionally, a cord can have ended up being inapplicable or severed, so inspect the links. Provide the sensors a clean with a cells, and also ensure they are straightened as well as inspect the electrical wiring.

Busted torsion springs are important garage components that permit your garage door to open as well as shut. You'll likely understand the reason for your garage door not closing as the springtime splitting will certainly sound like a gunshot. Luckily, torsion springtimes tend constantly to damage when the door is closed. It's the same for snapped wires; you'll see these quickly; frequently, they will snap when a torsion springtime breaks. These are jobs for somebody with the right devices and also knowledge to embark on.

If the tracks are obstructed or damaged, it can prevent the garage door from closing. In the best-case situation, it will certainly be a clog that can be conveniently eliminated. If the tracks are curved or deformed, you will likely need a replacement track.

When a garage door opener is mounted, limit setups are established as default. These settings can conform time. The garage door will typically quit prior to it gets to the ground or hit the ground, and also believe it has hit an item, it will instantly go into reverse. You'll need to change the limit settings, inspect the garage door opener manual, and change them per the instructions.

Why Doesn't My Garage Door Open? The word annoying doesn't do justice to the feelings you have if you can't get your automobile out of the garage since the door won't open. Normally, all sorts of expletives will certainly surround 'irritating' possibly ideal not explored in this overview! Most of the concerns with a garage door closed additionally apply to it not closing, such as obstructed, distorted, or curved tracks.

If your torsion springtime breaks when the door is shut, you'll need to switch off your opener and manually lift the garage door to get it open. Garage doors can be troublesome, so you may need help to do this. Use a lever to somewhat raise the door and also slide a piece of timber underneath to save any damages to your fingers. Then depending upon your door's weight, you may be able to lift it yourself or need aid to do so. When raised, secure the door with vice holds to guarantee it does not fall back down and also injure someone. Fixing a damaged torsion springtime can be an unsafe job for the uninitiated, so unless you have a lot of Do It Yourself experience and understand the technicians of your door garage, this is a work ideal left for the specialists.

Garage door openers include a cord to draw to disconnect the electric opener so that you can open the door by hand. For instance, you may require to open the garage door throughout a power interruption. Check that the garage door motor hasn't been detached; this is an easy as well as common solution.

Another simple check is to guarantee that it's not an issue with your remote control; it could be that you locked the remote by mishap or the batteries require changing. It could additionally be the antenna; examine it to see if it is damaged or blocked somehow. Ultimately, attempt resetting the remote control.

Finally, tak a take a look at the source of power. Is the opener getting power? Has it come to be unplugged? Otherwise, inspect that the breaker hasn't tripped as well as needs resetting or that a fuse hasn't blown and also requires changing.

Exactly How Can I Make My Garage Door Less Loud? Even if you can live with a loud garage door, it will be most likely that relative or perhaps next-door neighbors can not. Usually, a loud garage door is an easy problem to settle.

The most uncomplicated area to start is with a little lubrication, nine times out of ten, a little oil will certainly be all that is required for quieter garage doors. Making use of silicone or lithium spray lubricant especially created for garage doors, lube all the metal parts such as the springs, tracks, hinges, as well as rollers. When used, use a fabric to remove any kind of extra.

If you have a chain drive opener, the chain should be lubricated a couple of times a year as well. You'll also locate that a chain drive garage door opener is the noisiest of the different kinds you can buy. When it pertains to time to change it, maybe worth buying a belt drive system, which is a great deal quieter.

Examine the garage door, and track supports for loosened or absent screws as well as screws. Replace as well as tighten them with an adjustable or socket wrench, but do not overtighten as this could make issues worse.

After lubricating the steel components and changing or tightening up loose nuts and screws, you still have a noisy garage door; you'll require to inspect the different components for wear. If the roller is grinding or otherwise spinning openly on the shaft after lubricating, it could need replacing; we would certainly recommend selecting nylon rollers over steel.

If the garage springs seem the cause of the sound, be very careful and also don't attempt to adjust or repair them. They will certainly require replacing by preferably a specialist or else a person with a great practical knowledge of garage door mechanics. Without trying to seem melodramatic, the job can lead to death or arm or leg if not executed correctly.

You need to additionally evaluate the joints for wear, search for a much more oblong-shaped opening than round and dirt or steel filings around the pin.

Can Garage Doors Job Without Electricity? Getting locked in or out of your garage, especially the former, can be a troubling experience. Yet there is no requirement to panic, also without power; for instance, in case of a power outage, there is a way to open your garage door manually.

Standard garage door openers have an emergency situation guidebook release cable. You'll see the cable with its red manage positioned on the trolley track in addition to the garage door. When you draw the take care of, you will listen to a click. You can now by hand raise the door by ordering it at the base and raising it all the means up. For security reasons, do not leave the door open and neglected, as there is little in the means of precaution to keep the mechanism in position; even in the result of a strong gust of wind, the door could fall with the possibility of harming someone, specifically if you have pets or children.

Once you have electrical power once again and want to reconnect the electric opener, totally close the door by hand and after that draw the hands-on release cable; once it clicks, the button is re-engaged. Reconnect the garage door with the cart track by elevating it one to two feet It must snap right into location. After that examine the automatic opener to see if it functions properly by opening as well as closing the garage door.

Exactly How are Garage Doors Installed? For an expert garage door specialist, a garage door installment usually can take in between 5 and seven hrs. An expert garage door solution will certainly give you with distribution and setup and also eliminating your old door. The necessary steps are to connect the hinges, mount vertical tracking, attach the panels to the hinges, mount straight tracks, set up the torsion springtime system, and evaluate the door to make certain that it runs properly. In addition, you are likely to call for an automated garage door opener that is straightforward to suitable for your average Do It Yourself fanatic.

Is it Possible to Mount a Garage Door by yourself? If you want to comprehend far better how a garage door's mechanisms work for future maintenance and repair as well as minimize expenses, a Do It Yourself garage door installment could be a superb project for the appropriate person. For most garage door mounts, 2 individuals will be needed as they are hefty and unwieldy, as well as having a person around to pass devices to you when you get on a step ladder, as an example, can cut pause the work. What ought to be understood is that garage door setup can be hazardous; you require to be confident in your ability, educated in Do It Yourself, and also extremely safety and security conscious to take on the job. Thousands of people are harmed installing garage doors each year, so it's not a task to take on lightly.

Last Ideas We hope our guide has provided some valuable ideas for repairing garage door problems. If you maintain your garage doors in good order with normal maintenance and routinely inspecting the elements for indications of wear, they need to last you years. If you are experiencing a concern with your doors, keep calm, and be systematic in your approach. The issue will often be as easy as altering some batteries or eliminating some particles from a sensing unit or track. If you have actually attempted everything you can and also the solution still hasn't occurred, after that it's time to reach out to the professionals at A1 Garage Door Service, that will make certain to have your garage door up and running in no time at all.

Read our blog about  Just how to Install a Garage Door

[moonbeambucky]

Ho, Ho, Oh No!

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 2312 Warnings: fluff, implied smut

Summary: Plenty of gifts will be exchanged as you and Lance celebrate Christmas but you’re not prepared for a certain surprise

A/N: Thank you as always to Sam @buckyofthemyscira​ for beta reading 💕 gif not mine (x)

It’s peaceful in the morning without the sound of an alarm going off, a rare occurrence left for Sunday’s only, when there are no obligations besides dreaming cozily under your comforter. That’s a half lie, there is a very important responsibility to tend to, the one whose paws are swatting at your face, forcing you awake.

“Okay, okay Kip. I’m up.” You rub the sleep out of your eyes, tempted to roll back over until you see the sweet face of your little tabby begging for food.

Not so reluctantly you sit up, stretching your arms above your head and yawning so loudly you scare the poor cat.

“Sorry buddy, mommy’s tired,” you apologized, whether he could understand you or not.

Staggered footsteps take you to the kitchen where you open up a can of cat food. Kip weaves through your legs in a delicate dance you’ve learned to be aware of as he eagerly awaits his breakfast.

It’s not like he was starving by any means, dry food still sits in his other bowl but he wants the good stuff. His face is in the bowl before you set it on the ground, and you ignore the way your own body cracks as you stand up again. You need a massage and honestly you can’t wait until your other half gets home so you could have one.

Lance was due back today after traveling with the gymnastics team he coached and you missed him like crazy. Facetiming was just not the same although he made a point to do it every day he was gone.

You had been dating for a year and a half, living together for just a few months now and life was practically perfect. You fell in love with him and his rescue cat, and when you found out Lance named him after a gymnastics move your heart filled with even more affection for the suave athlete that was really a secret dork.

The warmth of the shower relieved your aching muscles and smelling the container of Lance’s body wash eased your mind knowing he would be home soon. He had been gone for too long and you had a plan in mind to welcome him back.

A few hours later Lance walked through the door, bright blue eyes standing out against wind bitten cheeks, bundled up in a heavy coat littered with melting flurries.

“Y/N?” he called out, taking off his coat and hanging it in the front closet.

Kip greeted Lance with a hearty meow as he was bent over to take off his boots. He lifted the cat in his arms, scratching his ears as Kip purred under Lance’s touch.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked Kip who rubbed the top of his head against Lance’s face.

Lance placed Kip on the floor and he grabbed his suitcase, as he headed for the bedroom he wondered where you could be. Your car was in the driveway but there was a chance you had gone out, although after a long trip there was nothing more that Lance wanted than to cuddle up next to you.

As he entered the bedroom Lance froze in place, more than surprised to find you on your knees in the middle of the bed, wearing red baby doll lingerie with white marabou trim. The Santa hat you wore flopped to the side when you tilted your head to greet him. Feeling himself twitch in his pants he instantly thought of another thing he could possibly want to do with you.

“Welcome home baby,” you cooed, a coy smile pulling at your lips as you seductively licked the candy cane in your hand.

“Is it Christmas already?” he asked, his weight dipping the mattress as he crawled towards you, laying you back on the bed and nudging your legs apart with his own.

You traced the candy cane along his lips, watching as the blue of his eyes retreated to a thin line as he sucked on the minty treat, humming sinfully.

“Only for naughty boys like you.”

His lips were on yours in an instant, tingling with sweet peppermint kisses that lingered on every part of your skin. That night Kip waited just a little bit longer for his dinner.

It was hard to focus on the task at hand, with Lance on the floor shifting the base of the Christmas tree you just brought home. His ass looked amazing in those sweatpants, so beautifully plump you couldn’t help but stare.

“Stop, it’s perfect!” you beamed, shifting your gaze back to the tree once it was centered in front of the window.

Lance pushed himself up and you took his hand, pulling him into an embrace. Leaning your head against him, you inhaled his intoxicating scent that combined warm cinnamon and light citrus. Every cell in your body loved Lance Tucker more than the last. You couldn’t believe you had met this amazing man, who was so unlike all the rumors said about him.

Lance was a tough trainer but never mean. He pushed his students to work hard but he could easily see when they needed a break. He was preparing them not only physically but mentally to be able to handle all that comes with competition.

It was after the Olympics Lance’s own reputation became slightly tarnished but he recovered and was thankful above all that you gave him a chance.

You tilted your head towards him and Lance felt the simmer of your passionate gaze. Your lips found his, soft and sweet, and you felt him smile against you.

“Sweetheart, we can move this to the bedroom if you want…”

His tongue swept across his lips and he raised his brow looking for your answer. You smiled, pecking his lips with yours knowing that as much as you wanted to continue this right now was the only time you had to put up decorations. Work had become increasingly busy and it was rare if you found yourself home on time. It was now or never if you wanted to decorate with Christmas being only a few weeks away.

“How about we decorate this tree and then… hop in the shower together?”

He detached himself from your embrace with comic speed, rushing over to the boxes that held ornaments, garland and all of your other decorations, frantically pulling off the lids in a hurry to get them up.

“Lance!” you whined playfully, “Come on. I don’t want to rush this. This is the first Christmas we’ll be celebrating in our place together and I want everything to be perfect.”

He set down the tangled cord of string lights to lift your chin, “Are you worried about the decorations or that your parents are coming to meet me?”

You sighed, unable to help the smile on your face because Lance knew you too well. You were very nervous about your parents coming for the holidays. They were eager to meet the man that stole your heart and every second leading up to their arrival date has added to your anxiety.

There was nothing to worry about, you knew this. They would easily see how kind and charming Lance is, but still in the back of your mind was this nagging voice that persisted, convincing you that everything had to be perfect. A gorgeously decorated tree, stockings hung just right above the fireplace, tinsel, wreaths and Lance’s favorite, the mistletoe.

Lance could see your mind was running like a hamster on a wheel, and all that spinning was making you even more panicked. Your name fell softly from his lips and you snapped out of your thoughts, finding peace in his calming irises, an ocean blue gaze that lapped like waves against the sand, washing away your worries.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, I promise. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” His lips pressed a kiss softly to your forehead and Lance cupped your cheeks as you stared back at him.

You were trying desperately to believe him, forcing your fears aside. “I know they’ll love you because I love you.” Lance grinned, pressing his lips to yours again. It was a quick kiss because of course your worries couldn’t stay away for too long.

“But I am worried. They’re predicting a bad storm the week my parents are supposed to come, what if their flight gets cancelled?”

“How many times has the weather been wrong before, huh? Just last week they said we’d have a foot of snow and what did we get? Flurries.”

You nodded your head. “You’re right. I’ll try not to worry.”

Your lips pulled into an innocent smirk and Lance chuckled, shrugging his shoulders because you both knew you would still be worrying about this. Not that he minded, because any time you needed reassurance he would be right there to hold you close until all your worries dissipated.  

Lance smiled as his phone lit up with your text message. It had far better news than the previous one that said you’d be late again. He was used to it, every night in the past week you had come home late and exhausted.

Often he had to force you to eat a little something despite you wanting to go straight to bed. Your job was extra stressful in the week leading up to Christmas but soon you’d have time off and he couldn’t wait. Although he was pretty excited by what your message said just now.

You: Hey babe. Finally on my way, hopefully not too much traffic but I can’t wait to see you soon… I have a surprise 😘

It was the kissing emoji on the end that really made him smile. The last time you had a surprise for him he found you wearing very sexy holiday lingerie. He questioned for a moment if this surprise might be along the same lines.

All of these late nights were taking a toll on you; sitting too long at work, eyes straining from staring at a screen, your back aching from poor posture. Before bed Lance would rub your shoulders, knead his thumbs into your sore muscles, kissing the aches away as he worked on the knots that littered your back.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the kissing emoji. Maybe work wasn’t so bad today. Maybe you had extra coffee and were able to move around a lot. Maybe you missed him as much as he missed you, wanting those nightly massages to turn into something more.

A smirk pulls deeply across his face as Lance comes up with an idea. He sets the mood, lighting the fireplace, dimming the lights to a glow as the crackling wood begins to drench the room in warmth. The blinds are closed, the tree is lit and Lance rushes to the bedroom to find the perfect sexy outfit to surprise you when you walk through the door. It doesn’t take long before he picks out the perfect one.

Lance stands in the living room, fingers slipping under the Santa hat he’s wearing to scratch his head. He adjusts the hat again, blowing out a nervous breath as he waits in silence.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said to Kip who hopped up onto the nearest table, staring curiously at Lance.

Within a few minutes Lance perked up as he heard the key jingling in the lock. He stood up straighter, adjusting his stance; transforming his giddy smile into a seductive smirk, his eyes falling into a half-lidded, lustful gaze.

“Oh Laaance,” you sang from the door, accompanied by a lot of noise. Perhaps the pulling off of boots and removing your coat, he thought. “Guess who’s– oh my god!”

Your jaw fell open at Lance, standing stark naked in the living room, only wearing a Santa hat with his modesty covered by a stocking. No, worse, it was inside of the stocking. On any other day you this would be a welcome surprise, but not today not as your…

“Don’t look!” you screamed, remembering your parents that were right behind you but it was too late.

You watched as your father spun his head around so quickly he might have given himself whiplash. Your head was buried in your hands as you felt waves of embarrassment wash over you. This was a complete nightmare, one you wished you could wake up from. You regretted not telling Lance about your surprise, that your parents decided to fly in early because the storm that was predicted was definitely happening.

Lifting your head you saw your mother continue to gawk at Lance who had become nearly as red as the stocking he held. His mouth fell open but no words came out; he’s not sure what he would have said any way, not when he wished the floor would open and swallow him up.  

“Mom stop!” You raised your hand to block her view but she was determined to get a good look at the man you were dating. “Lance would you put some clothes on!”

He was snapped out of his frozen state, holding the stocking extra carefully as he shimmied backwards. Lance was too embarrassed and preoccupied to realize Kip had left his previous spot on the table and was trying to weave himself through Lance’s legs.

The unexpected fur against his ankles made Lance gasp and stumble wildly as he tried not to step on Kip, nearly dropping the stocking as he found his footing. Your mother watched the whole thing, getting a perfect view of Lance’s bare backside, his buns jiggling as he was finally able to run into the bedroom to put on clothes.

“Well, Merry Christmas to me,” she smirked, fanning herself with her hand as she moved towards your father, as you hoped for a true Christmas miracle, that their memories could be wiped.

[afoxysunny]

I've been thinking of so much more for my Lazybug AU but stress at work and my contused hand made it impossible to write anything down or try to draw any more

So, to give you at least a little content you didn't ask for while my hand only hurts a little:

I present to you

The different fighting styles of each Miraculous Holder

Lil explanation: though it's never directly stated in Miraculous Ladybug canon i see it ad heavily implied that, when a Kwami powers up a human, they somewhat fuse. Not like the fusion Ha dance. But a human will display not only physical but character traits from the Kwami of their Miraculous. They're still clearly the same person! Just with a few tweaks to their priorities most of the time. So yes, pointing this out so clearly brings this close to theory or headcanon territory but shhh it's my au, i make the rules

Trixie as Lucky Bug

Lucky Bug has a strong instinct to fight, there are only very few things that could stop her from heading into battle.

Trixie is always set for confrontation and Tikki has the unwavering urge to always do whatever is possible to help. The combination of these two working together as one gives Lucky Bug her strength to take on everything that stands in her way.

When in battle She will make sure to keep her opponents attention fully on herself. She holds the strong belief that while she bears the brunt of attacks she can make sure nobody else gets hurt and that's how she fights. Thanks to the weapon her Miraculous grants her she can exceed in close combat as well as having quite ranged attacks. The lather she will mostly use to pull someone's attention away from others if necessary. Closer ranged combat is definitely her preference though. Here she can use her magical yo-yo like a morningstar and really hammer down in fight. A yo-yo with endlessly extendable cord is incredibly versatile and Lucky Bug is smart enough to always find new ways to mobilize this weapon but good old brute force shouldn't be underrated.

Stephanie as Pitch Serval

Pitch Serval always has an urge to move and that definitely includes battle. Once she gets going there is nothing that'll get her standing still again.

Stephanie will literally jump at any opportunity to start moving and help others, Plagg has deep confidence in his abilities and will let everyone know. In combination that makes Pitch Serval a little bit of a show off. While well able to quietly observe a situation, once she gets into action she will not stop until the job is done.

Watching Pitch Serval fight looks more like watching a professional dancer who just so happens to beat people up while performing. The extendable pole she got as a weapon seems almost to become part of her body. In fluid motions she is capable of a variety of attacks that are both unpredictable without the music only she must hear and so natural that it becomes mesmerizing to watch. Whether she actually fights with the pole for proper hits or uses it to propel herself around, it will be effective and beautiful.

Sportacus as Álfurildi

Álfurildi is not a fan of fighting in a confrontational sense, however, practiced as a sport he finds great enjoyment in it. To him the only reason to actually fight is to protect others.

Sportacus was already a locally famous hero before receiving a Miraculous and brings all the best qualities this encompasses to the table. Nooroo however is a hurt soul, as a surviver of horrible abuse by a past master it took him a long time to extend enough trust to willingly give his powers to someone else again. The combination of these two makes Álfurildi appear a lot more calm or even reserved compared to the Sportacus we all know and love. It makes him worry more and more careful but he's still very energetic, confident and capable in basically anything he tries.

This of cause reflects in his style of battle. Until he's made sure his opponent cannot be swayed without it he won't go in for an attack so most of his battles he spends dodging his opponents attacks while making sure to stay close enough to keep tge encounter from breaking off. He encompasses the phrase "float like a butterfly, sting like a bee" as watching him avoid the incoming attacks looks almost supernatural at times, like gravity just doesn't apply to him the same way it does to others. His in depth mastery of most sports in existence surely help with that. Once he switches lanes to actually attacking himself he will use the cane that is his assigned weapon almost exclusively like a bat or racket or other similar sport equipment. You surely can image the punch that packs.

Robbie as Bullock

Bullock is not one to start a fight but he sure is great at ending them, by winning obviously.

Robbie has efficiency, wit and persistence on his side. Stompp, caring and deterninted, speaks his mind without hesitation. These two together give Bullock a reserved and stubborn appearance but when fending for what is right those are strong attributes to have.

Bullock operates best when following a plan so he will mostly be seen as a detached observer which can be accurately described as the calm before the storm. The phrase "mess with the bull, you get the horns" might as well have been coined just to describe him. Once he starts fighting he is quite literally going to bulldoze his opponent. With the ease from a Kwami's powers elaborate movements require no effort anymore do the usually so lazy man can now go all out, but old habits die hard so he aims to be done fighting as quickly as possible. This results in his attacks coming in rapid fire blasts of assaults. Using his armored fists and legs for precise hits, the chain of his tail like a whip and even his horns make him an overwhelming opponent in close combat. At distance, any distance, his miraculous granted weapon, his darts, never miss a target he locked on to and can only be removed by him so no fight will stay at distance for long.

Pixel as Spectra

Spectra needs a good overview of the ongoing battle to unleash the modt effective Amok but that surely doesn't stop him from getting physically involved once the chance arises.

Pixel follows his strong intuition and always has a quick and effective solution to help others out, Duusu is straight forward about everything and easily get enthusiastic. With this passionate combination Spectra often jumps into battle with his friends despite that not being the most logical step. His powers and costume lend themselves a lot easier to defensive fighting, more blocking, enduring, studying and only then striking. Thanks to his extensive theoretical knowledge from video games he knows an expansive array of moves only someone fighting with a fan as their weapon can use so once he gets his chance to actually fight he is far more effective than he would expect from himself.

Jives as Grinder Turtle

Grinder Turtle is really not much of a fighter. But there will never be anything in his way when he has someone to protect.

Jives is a very calm guy, the human embodiment of the gentle giant trope. Wayzz has persistence, patience and a deep respect for everybody. This combination makes Grinder Turtle incredibly passive in battle. He will use his shield only to push people away, which works great because as someone who is much taller than almost everyone he always has the high ground; but for the most part he finds his spot in the back of the team to set up his Shell-ter for them and be content holding up a safe space for everyone.

This style of fighting unfortunately takes a lot of energy out of him, leading to him quickly losing the turtle miraculous to Stingy.

Jives as High Duke

High Duke finds his flow in fighting. Here he can let lose and push himself to his limits.

Again, Jives is calm and unshakable, always too passive to not get along eith everybody. Now, Xuppu playful and mischievous, holding enjoyment to high value. Their combination makes High Duke a force to be reckoned with. They fuse in perfect addition to each other, making him a well confident, experimental fighter who does exactly what feels right in the moment. His wish to protect everyone around him, now fueled with confidence from a new perspective, allows him to move swiftly during battles like he never did anything else.

Thanks to the flexibility this transformation gifts him with he doesn't just stand back and wait anymore, he jumps head first into the fight. His favorite ways of attack is to duck down all the way to the ground and use his weapon, his staff, or the rope he has as a tail to trip his opponents, and to use the dtaff as leverage to jumo high in the air and strike from up above with great force.

Stingy as Vault

Vault is a presence that demands attention, with powerful attacks to back it up he is a heavy hitter even though he isn't so prone to charge to front line.

Stingy's determination and confidence elevate his sharp focus even more while Wayzz is anchored, calm and has a great sense of duty. The combination they create gives Vault a presence of security everyone can feel. He is strong and unwavering in what he does and knows it full well.

There is a weight in his stance like nothing can make him falter, even when not creating a Shell-ter around himself he is undeniable at the center of something powerful. With this mass of confidence he doesn't just hold on to his shield to push intruders back but it also becomes a projectile weapon to knock opponents out from afar. Though he isn't as animated as others on the team each move he makes carries weight and purpose everyone can see.

Ziggy as Mouse the Mighty

Mouse the Mighty looks harmless compared to what he is capable of. He will fight with all he has for what he believes in.

Ziggy is a simple guy, excited by the best qualities of a hero and deterninted to work as hard as possible to achieve whatever goal he has. Mullo has an optimistic approach to everything and shies away from no challenge. Together they make Mouse the Mighty eager to show everyone the qualities of a true superhero

Fueled with so much excitement he could overflow he sonetines bites off more than he can chew. When he rushes into battle, blinded by the chance to prove himself his flight response is a little too strong and he uses his Miraculous power to split into many tiny versions of himself to run away, halfway through running he remembers who he id though, how powerful he now is and that his friends need him and he comes back with even more confidence and determination than he started with.

He has all it takes to be an outstanding hero and once he gets going he shows all he got. Armed with the knowledge of pop culture and the brain of a suorrhero obsessed boy he can quickly switch styles drastically mid movement. This unpredictability together with his size varying from one bear to many mice makes him practically unstoppable. Not only does he have brute force at his disposal but also he uses his weapon, a jumprope, like nunchucks or to trip people or any other way he once saw and thought looked cool.

[Redacted]

[Redacted]

[Redacted]

[Redacted]

[Redacted]

I hope you enjoyed this. I was just hoping i could breath a little more life into the characters I've been playing around with for a while now but you so far only got one still image of each (also hoping to change that soon, I'm really working on that story)

For some of the Kwami's there's just barely any info about them, i hope it doesn't show too much where i was just winging it

[purplesurveys]

1159

survey by -egocentricity-

Describe the last time you...

Went swimming: It was in Nasugbu with Angela, Sofie, and Gab nearly a couple of years ago. We wanted to go to a nearby beach before the semester started, so we planned the trip at the last minute and literally just right after we enrolled for our classes.

Went on a date: It was at BGC at this nice, romantic French restaurant. Then as we headed back to the car we spotted a jazz bar that had a live band performing, so we took a detour there to have drinks and nachos.

Were hurt by someone you love: My mom says a lot of hurtful things all the time I’ve stopped keeping track of them and letting them affect me too much, but I’m sure she’s done it recently.

Did something nice for yourself: I got myself a night lamp to improve the ambience in my room and make it feel even more homey. The lamp I had before it was just something I borrowed from my parents and it had white light, so it didn’t feel the most calming. The one I have right now emits this soft yellow shade that makes me feel infinitely more relaxed.

Did something nice for someone else: I ordered KFC at like 1 AM last Wednesday because I was feeling hungry and there was nothing at home that could meet my cravings, and aside from getting orders for my parents I also got a Zinger for my delivery driver as a way to thank him and lift his spirits for working that late into the night.

Were injured: I always sport some sort of scratch or gash somewhere on my body these days from playing with Cooper. This morning I got a new wound on one of my knuckles since he was pulling on his leash way too hard when I was walking him.

Went to the hospital: I had to take blood and urine tests last May to figure out what was wrong with me since I had been sick for a week by that point. That was also during the peak of the pandemic, so there was a lot of anxiety about me catching Covid. It turned out to be a UTI, and even though that technically sucks the whole family was relieved it wasn’t Covid.

Understood something that previously confused you: I had my dad explain to me how buying and bidding for houses works. Hahaha I am sooooo not equipped to be a fully-functioning adult.

Faked sick to get out of going to class: I don’t think I ever did this. If I had wanted to skip class, I just skipped it.

Hung out with your friends: I went to Perfy’s with 7 friends shortly before it shut down for good as a result of the pandemic. We had some beer and bar chow, and to be completely frank it felt quite nice to have that one night where things felt normal again, as ignorant as it was. We vaped until we were dizzy and some of them smoked too much that the smell ended up clinging to me and my clothes, but luckily I got home when my whole family was already in their rooms so no one was able to smell me.

Met someone new: There’s this girl who recently got onboarded to one of our client brands and we started working with her about a week or two ago. She’s honestly been a bit over the place, but I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt because she’s fairly new at a particularly hectic time in her workplace. My first impression of her was that she gave such a strong UP vibe so I looked her up on Facebook, and it turns out we went to the same college and the same high school.

Did something that you were afraid to do: A couple of months ago I had a one-on-one video call organized by the CEO of my employer so that she could get to know me better. She was super nice and listened attentively to my answers to all her questions, but it was easy to tell she wanted to see what I could bring to the table and how well I could mesh with the team especially since I’ve never met her and everyone else in person, so I made sure my social game was maxed out for those 15 minutes haha.

Did something you promised you would never do: I vaped literally half an hour ago. I never expected to form a habit out of it especially after being vehemently against any form of smoking for most of my life. Not particularly proud of it but then again I’m here for a good time and not a long time lmao.

Regretted something: Lazada had this huge app-wide sale last week and their Hydro Flasks were like ₱600 cheaper, but I didn’t buy it because I was feeling stingy that day haha. Now the products are back to their normal price and they’ll probably never get to be that cheap again :( There’s another sale happening tomorrow but the discounts aren’t as big, but I’ll probably place an order this time.

Went shopping: I went to H&M last January to get Andi a late Christmas present. I asked Leigh what they would appreciate as a gift, and she told me they’d wanted to start experimenting with feminine clothes so I got them a nice black skirt and this really elegant dress (that I honestly wanted for myself). I heard they cried once they opened the paper bag, and making people cry with the gifts you get them will always be one of the best feelings ever haha.

Asked someone out/were asked out: Idk, it was 5 years ago and nothing I want to remember anymore.

Broke up with someone: I’ve never broken up with someone.

Had someone break up with you: It was terrible and the stuff of all my nightmares combined, and it happened in the middle of an already-shitty month to boot so I had little hope for myself to come out of it alive. I had everything planned and ironed out and all that was left was for me to leave. 

It’s been 7 months and I’ve never felt emotionally and mentally better and healthier.

Were heartbroken: I follow this animal rescue NGO on Facebook and they regularly post about dogs who’ve lived through awful situations and need urgent care and forever homes to live in. Fortunately the page has a wide reach and regularly gets support, and I try to donate to their bank account as often as I can.

You were angry with someone: Haven’t directed my anger towards anyone in a while.

You felt "in love" with someone: It was during the time I was still reeling over the breakup and was caught in an endless loop of still being in love with them and forcing myself to finally detach.

You wanted something unrealistic: I was at the rooftop this morning and I could feel the temperature getting warmer every hour, and when I finally couldn’t tolerate the heat and was forced to go back indoors I felt super annoyed because all I want is to live somewhere with a chilly climate all-year round hahaha UGH

You made someone angry: It was when I spilled a tiny drop of soup onto the dining table and my mom had a complete meltdown about it. After 89457843957 years of her getting mad at First World Problems I wasn’t intimidated by her anymore, but it still irked me at how something so little can piss her off so I just decided not to speak a word for the rest of the night.

You made someone's day: I hope I made my delivery driver’s night when I got him his burger as a surprise. I hold so much respect and appreciation for them considering they’ve been working very hard to get people’s goods to their doorsteps in the midst of a global pandemic.

Tried something new: When I bought my lamp it was the first time I got something to decorate my room. I usually spend all my money on food, so that was a nice change to try out.

Tried your best: I always try my best at work and to make each day more improved than the last.

Didn't try at all: A couple of nights ago I asked my dad to light up my scented candle and he challenged me to try lighting up a matchstick by myself for once. I was all primed and ready to go, but backed out at the last second :(( I told him there was a big chance I could freak out, drop the lit matchstick. and set something in the dining room (where we were) on fire, and that’s when he gave up and just lit it up himself hahaha

Got nothing for your efforts: I’d gladly refer you to my big waste of a 6-year relationship.

Had a serious talk with someone: I always have deep conversations with Andi and they’ve been about various topics over the last few months.

Told someone how you really feel: It was when Bea scheduled a quick one-on-one catch-up call with me to check up on how I was doing with work and if I was doing okay with the everyday craziness of it all. But I didn’t say anything grave; I just told her I honestly like the work we do and that it’s nice that it keeps me excited everyday, so there’s little to complain about.

Hid what you felt from someone: One of my co-workers, Denise, is honestly a little challenging to work with. I always have to pick up after her and remind her of stuff we need to do together, and even Bea has let a few comments slide between us about how difficult she can be. But considering I’m a lot newer than her and we’ve never met each other I’ve stayed quiet for now.

Took something that didn't belong to you: I got the matchbox from my parents’ room to ask one of them to light up the aforementioned scented candle I have.

Borrowed something from someone: I borrowed one of my sister’s cords the other evening to charge my vape pen.

Lost a game: This was when my orgmates and I played a couple Jeopardy games over Zoom about a month ago and I lost to Robin.

Won a game: Not sure, I don’t really play a lot of games.

Told someone you love him/her: Jo, after she shared that she tested positive for Covid.

Went on vacation: It’s been a year and a half and the world has changed a lot since then, but my family and I went to Tagaytay and Cavite for a quick weekend getaway; it was Tagaytay on Saturday then we drove to another hotel in Cavite the next day. We played Heads Up, ate Jelly Belly jellybeans, had a lot of nice food, took some walks, but then I also had to work on a Powerpoint in between because I had a presentation that was due that Monday lol.

Went on a roadtrip: Last January we drove to Tagaytay (again) for my dad’s 50th birthday. Before heading to our accommodation we had brunch at La Creperie where we happened to be seated beside Larry Gadon – bleck – and his wife. Then we headed to the condo unit where we stayed the night at, ordered a samgyupsal set, and I watched GMM’s Let’s Talk About That into the night until I fell asleep.

Flew on a plane: That would be over two years ago and it was during our vacation to Bicol. That also marks the last time I ever spoke a word to my brother, because on our way home my family got into a heated argument and he ended up slapping me in the face. I don’t tolerate physical acts of violence, and especially not from someone younger than me, so I was more than glad to cut ties with him moving forward.

Were annoyed with a family member: My mom is politically incorrect 24/7, and it grinds my gears 24/7.

Took something too far: Idk, maybe cutting off ties with Gab. A part of me wanted to reconnect at some point, once I’ve healed; but I’ve reached a point in my life where that doesn’t seem so necessary anymore. Life just works funnily sometimes, I guess. I haven’t completely cut her off; we’re still mutuals on Twitter (though she also never uses it so it barely counts), and also still Facebook friends (though I’ve unfollowed her and I’ve also blacklisted her from seeing my posts – thank god for that feature), so now it’s really just a matter of pressing some buttons and finally disconnecting for good.

Gave up too soon: I wanted to learn riding a bike during the early days of the pandemic last year, but I gave up after like two days of being unsuccessful.

Listened to a band you had not heard before: I started exploring some of BTS’ music earlier this week after weeks of just knowing Dynamite.

Judged someone: Some of the bloggers that I regularly correspond with for work, and who’ve recently added me on Facebook, have opinions I don’t necessarily agree with.

Asked a "stupid question": I ask a lot of newbie questions at work that maybe some people would consider dumb, but I’d rather get answers to do my work correctly than take guesses and end up doing the wrong thing.

Got "a stupid answer": Not sure.

Took a picture of something/someone: I recently took a photo of my work desk setup so I could show off my new pretty lamp, hahaha.

Told a lie: I told my mom my Hydro Flask is still with Angela and that I should be getting it soon, but I really lost it a few years ago and would have to buy a new one.

Told the truth: Idk I tell the truth all the time.

[scripttorture]

So, I've got a character who I need to keep from walking. The torturer has a decent knowledge of anatomy and surgical procedures, but no actual surgical tools. I was thinking something like hamstringing. Which muscles or tendons would need to be severed? What are the odds of recovery? Would that fully cripple someone or just severely inhibit their ability to walk?

I’d strongly suggest that you don’t give the torturer uncommon knowledge of surgery or anatomy. Torture is not skilled and it is not clever. Torturers will often claim that it is and that they have extra special abilities, but that’s not borne out by studies of their behaviour.

 I don’t think we should feed into their delusions.

 That said generally this seems like a pretty solid scenario and the kinds of things you want the torturer to do don’t require special knowledge. Look at this way: you (presumably not a qualified surgeon but my apologies if you are) instantly jumped to hamstringing as a possible solution, no extra knowledge required.

 There are a few options open to you. Most of them would allow the victim character to walk again with modern medical treatments. There’s also… a bit of a range in terms of how much they inhibit walking.

 A few years ago I would have said that hamstringing would completely inhibit anyone’s ability to walk. Then a dear friend of mine managed to essentially hamstring himself. He had a muscle/ligament tear which (through a combination of not getting time off work and bad medical care and going along to take part in pro-wrestling anyway) grew into a grade three tear.

 That essentially means that the muscles and ligaments in one leg detached.

 He was still walking. However this problem grew worse over a period of months-years, he was in chronic pain and he essentially deformed his legs/back as other muscles compensated for his bad leg.

 He had surgery to reattach his muscles recently. With several months recovery (I think it was about a month and a half of virtually no walking) and strengthening exercises he is walking again. His stamina is not what it was and (his words) he’ll never be an athlete.

 But he’s mobile and no longer in constant pain.

 I suspect that a lot of people in my friend’s position would not have been able to walk with those injuries. He apparently has a very high pain threshold for this sort of pain. It’s also significant that the injury was only in one leg; the body can adjust and compensate for quite a lot.

 So for muscular and ligament damage I’d suggest the kind of physical recovery my friend went through: surgery with at least a month of no walking, followed by several months of strength exercises and gradually building up ability again.

 To completely prevent walking the injuries would probably have to be in both legs.

 Severing the achilles tendon (the one that runs down the back of the calf to the ankle) would probably be the most obvious and common way to do this. It’s hamstringing.

 I think a similar effect could be achieved by attacking the tendons and muscles at the back of the knees. It should still be possible to do this without damaging the major veins and arteries in the legs. It would be more difficult. There’s also a chance of severing one of the major nerves in the leg and that would cause damage that couldn’t be repaired.

 There’s- basically a lot more stuff around the knee then around the achilles tendon. And in order to produce the same kind of injury at the knee more tendons and muscles would need to be severed or damaged. I think (remember I am not a medic) that the muscles and tendons targetted in that area would be the biceps femoris, semitendinosus and semimembranosus.

 This would be a much more protracted attack and more complicated to… do in a way that produces the results the torturer wants.

 The reason I’m suggesting it is that I think recovery would be longer and more complex. And I get the impression that’s something you might want for your story.

 With more muscles and tendons damaged (possibly to different degrees) and the chance of nerve damage, surgery would probably be more complicated. It might involve several procedures (again, not a medic). Strengthening exercises would also be more complicated because they’d need to account for damage in more areas.

 I think this would lead to a longer recovery time, years rather then months and a higher chance of needing mobility aids like canes or walkers.

 Because there’s a chance of nerve damage there’s also an opening for you to decide the character doesn’t recover some of that mobility at all.

 Both of these muscle-and-ligament based attacks would effect how far the character could walk without pain, even when they’ve made a full physical recovery.

 The other major thing I can think of is complex breaks. A brute force attack on the ankles or knees, causing multiple breaks and fractures. Especially if we’re talking about a character who is held for long enough that bones healing badly could be a factor.

 Historically these sorts of injuries led to lifelong problems walking or being unable to walk.

 I can’t tell you as much about the recovery process here because I don’t know. I’m not a medic and this isn’t how torture is typically conducted now. My guess would be orthopaedic surgery, followed by a lot of physio and strengthening exercises. Double check that by looking for information on complex breaks in the joints.

 You can probably find it by looking up injuries from extreme sports and motor accidents.

 In terms of the torturer doing it- it’s basically hitting the knees and/or ankle repeatedly with something heavy. The aim is to cause several breaks and fractures at the joint itself resulting in something that physically can not support the victim’s weight.

 If you want the character to be unable to walk permanently that’s trickier. Modern medical procedures are pretty good at restoring function. Most of the time it would be a case of walking shorter distances and walking with mobility aids, rather then being unable to walk at all.

 Damage to the spinal cord could result in complete paralysis of the legs. I don’t think it would be easy for your character to deliberately do that and if they tried I think they’d be likely to kill the victim. But it would be possible as an unintended injury from a prolonged beating or even a bad fall.

 You could also have injuries from torture becoming infected and eventually leading to amputation. But again, this would not necessarily prevent the character from walking; plenty of amputees, even double amputees, walk with prosthetics. I also think this approach wouldn’t be the best fit with what you’ve laid out. It’s a possible option though and I’d rather you had more choice.

 All of these are scarring tortures, which means that they’re not common practice any more. There’s a post here that gives some context on ‘clean’ (ie non-scarring) and scarring tortures if you’re interested. If you haven’t checked it out already there’s a post on long term psychological symptoms here and one on memory problems specifically here.

 I hope that helps. :)

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

[lantur]

if you were mine - part three

summary: Riza has been working on the unit for close to a year when she starts to wonder whether Colonel Mustang’s interest in her is more than professional.

rated: t | words: 5852

part three of four

read on ao3

Thursday feels like it drags on at work. Riza’s eyes feel unusually heavy, her shoulders ache, and there’s a familiar, dull pain in her temples and behind her eyes.

One look at her desk calendar tells her why that is, and she breathes a small sigh. She’ll be in for an unpleasant weekend.

Riza stops by the corner store after work to buy her usual supplies. Chamomile tea, chocolate, cocoa powder and milk for making hot chocolate, stew meat, and lentils. For some reason, she always craves stew at this time of the month. At the last minute, she remembers that she needs some shampoo and conditioner as well, and tosses a bottle of each into her basket. She goes through it so much faster now that her hair is so long. She still hasn’t gotten used to that.

Roy comes over a few hours after she gets home, bearing a paper grocery bag with almost identical contents to hers. There’s no shampoo and conditioner, but there is a copy of The Best Shot at Success, the recently released autobiography of Ella Schultz, the first female officer in the Amestris military. Riza hugs him tight, and they spend a relaxing night curled up on her sofa, talking quietly.

She falls asleep in his arms, but wakes up alone in her bed, neatly tucked in. Hayate lies near her feet, loyally keeping watch over her.

That morning dawns without event - a surprise. The work day is busy, with more than enough to occupy her mind. Still, as the day wears on, she grows more uneasy.

“Is everything okay, Lieutenant?” Colonel Mustang asks her, at one point. “You seem a little preoccupied today.”

“I’m just concerned about the Abitz murder, sir,” Riza replies. That is part of the truth, after all. “About the possibility you raised that it might be connected to the Bangert incident in January.”

Everyone else is in the office with them, and Breda jumps in with a theory, which thankfully distracts the Colonel.

That evening, Riza walks Hayate in the park, lost in thought. She tries to relax for the rest of the night with the book Roy had bought her, but the attempt isn’t very successful. Half an hour from midnight, she’s pacing her apartment.

“Why hasn’t it started yet?” she asks Hayate. Her faithful friend tilts his head, whining softly in the back of his throat. It’s always started on Thursday afternoon or Thursday evening. Always.  

She wants to call Roy or Rebecca, the two people on this earth she can go to with anything, but she can’t. Not yet. Saying all of this to another person will make her fears real, and she isn’t ready for that yet.

“Maybe it’s just stress,” Riza says, but she doesn’t believe it, even as she says it. Even during the year she had spent in Ishval, when she had been a hollow, traumatized shell of a human being, her cycle had been as regular as clockwork.

Riza sits on the sofa, trying to think through the situation with the calm logic that is second nature to her. She is twenty-seven; far too young for her cycle to stop or change. Rebecca once mentioned that her mother had gone through menopause early, in her late thirties, but that’s a decade away yet.

She’s heard that women can miss their periods if they’ve lost weight, or are very active. She’s no more or less active than she has always been, and her clothes fit the same as they always have - not any looser. But they’re not any tighter, either, which should rule out the fear she can’t even verbalize in the privacy of her own mind.

Still, it takes her hours to fall asleep.

Riza spends Saturday with Rebecca, and manages to act normally enough that Rebecca doesn’t seem suspicious of anything amiss.

She wakes up late on Sunday morning, a leaden feeling in her stomach. Even without having to go to the bathroom, she knows that her period hasn’t started yet.

“Fuck,” Riza says softly, staring at the ceiling.

She can’t bring herself to eat breakfast. Her stomach rebels at the thought - god, her stomach actually rebels at the thought. Riza sobs once, standing in front of the stove, and immediately presses her hand to her mouth, as if she could stuff the sound back inside her. Now isn’t the time for panic or for her emotions to take over. Now is the time for calm detachment and action.

She tilts her head back and breathes deeply, in and out, until her composure returns and she’s able to take Hayate for a walk.

After coming home to drop Hayate off, Riza sits on the sofa for several minutes, resting her palms against her knees, trying to ground herself. Then, she rises and walks to the pay phone on the far east side of Trettach Park. This particular pay phone and the area around it are almost always deserted.

She enters the booth, drops the coins in, picks up the phone, and dials a number with a Central area code.

The line is picked up after the fifth ring. “Hello?”

The gruff voice is immediately recognizable. “Hello, Madame Christmas,” Riza says. “It’s Elizabeth. How are you?”

“Ah, Elizabeth.” She can hear the smile in Chris Mustang’s voice. “How many times do I have to tell you that you should call me Chris?”

“At least one more, Madame.”

“Stubborn girl. Well, that’s why you suit Rhys so well. Birds of a feather.” Chris sighs. “How’s he doing? Staying out of trouble, I hope?”

The mention of Roy makes Riza swallow over her suddenly dry throat. “Yes, for now.”

“And you?”

Riza winds the cord of the phone around her finger. “Actually, that’s why I called,” she says. “I haven’t been feeling well lately.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end, and Riza knows that Chris has understood her meaning.

“I see,” Chris says carefully. “What’s wrong?”

“Headaches, back pain, fatigue. And I’m late, which never happens.” Riza looks down at the floor. “I had a little nausea this morning. Though that could have been from nerves.”

There’s another, longer pause. “Those are all early signs,” Chris says. Her voice is softer, sympathetic.

Her stomach plummets, and Riza rests her hand against the wall to steady herself. “But how?” she asks. “How could this have happened? I’ve been as reliable with my tea as I always have. I’ve never missed a day.”

Chris sighs. “There can be inconsistencies, from batch to batch,” she says. “Issues with quality control. Some of the people who source it will mix in powdered aster to add bulk. It’s indistinguishable from Queen Anne’s Lace in color, odor, and taste. And even pure Queen Anne’s grows stale, over time, and loses effectiveness. Some apothecaries aren’t reliable at taking older batches off the shelves when they should.”

Riza closes her eyes, fighting the wave of dizziness that washes over her, and the panic. “Chris,” she says hoarsely. She wants to sink to the ground. “What am I going to do? I can’t - we can’t--”

“Breathe, Elizabeth,” Chris instructs. “Take four deep breaths. Stay with me.”

Riza breathes in, out, in, out, shakily. Her hands are trembling so hard she can barely hold onto the phone. “Okay,” she says. She trusts Chris. Chris has guided probably a hundred other women through what she is going through now. “I’m here.”

“The one good thing about this is that you caught it early,” Chris says. “And that is a very good thing. There’s no need for any back alley operations that will put you in danger.”

Riza presses a hand to her mouth. “Really?”

“Yes. It’s a matter of two herbal tinctures, one of crocus sativus and one of mesua ferrea.”

“Hold on,” Riza says faintly, bending down and searching for the notebook that she always keeps in her shoulder bag. “I need to…”

“Don’t worry about writing these down,” Chris says at once. “After what happened with the Queen Anne’s, I’m not trusting any apothecary in East City to handle this. I’ll brew some myself and I’ll send one of my couriers over. She’ll bring my written instructions on how to take them, as well as detailed notes of exactly what you can expect after you do. She’ll arrive tomorrow morning by eight.”

“Thank you,” Riza whispers, her eyes stinging. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me. You’re family, and I look out for family.” Chris heaves a long sigh. “I’m sorry,” she says. “That it has to be this way.”

Riza thinks back to their last visit to Central, to Chris’s teasing Roy about when they would get married and give her a grandchild to spoil, because she wasn’t getting any younger, you know. She nods mutely, and then remembers Chris can’t see her. “I am, too,” she says, and her voice cracks.  

“Have you told Rhys?”

“Not yet,” Riza says. The thought brings back the feeling of wanting to throw up.

“Tell him,” Chris advises. “I know how strong you are, but this is too much of a burden for even you to shoulder alone.”

“I will.” Riza wipes her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Stay strong, Elizabeth. Take care. I’ll call you to check in after a few days.”

Riza walks home, feeling dazed. Hayate greets her at the door, and she sinks to her knees and wraps her arms around his neck, burying her face in his fur.

She isn’t sure how long she stays like that. She doesn’t want it to - she wants to keep it at a safe distance, removed - but it sinks in, slowly, inexorably.

She is pregnant, and tomorrow, she won’t be.

-

The strain of the morning exhausts her. Riza sleeps on the sofa for an hour, wakes, forces herself to choke down some buttered toast. She makes the second of the three phone calls she has to make today, and manages to avoid breaking down into tears on the phone.

Then she makes the third call. She reaches Roy on his office line, because Sundays are his designated day to finish as much work as he needs to, while having the privacy of East City Command entirely to himself. On Sundays, there’s no need to maintain any of the farce of incompetence and lazy, lackadaisical attitude that has been his mainstay for so many years.

“Hello, Colonel,” Riza says, when he picks up. To her relief, her voice is calm and even. “I’m sorry to bother you at work.”

She hears the rustle of paperwork being set down. “It’s never a bother to hear from you, Lieutenant,” Roy says. “What’s going on?”

“I have an idea about the recent murders of former State Alchemists that I’d prefer not to share over the phone. Would you mind stopping by after you’re finished?”

“I’ll be there in an hour,” Roy says at once. “Would you like me to bring any of the evidence files?”

“That won’t be necessary, sir. Thank you. I’ll see you soon.”

-

Cleaning her guns has always been a calming ritual. Gathering the supplies - cleaning solvent, gun oil, bore brush, patch holder and patches, cleaning rod, flashlight, cleaning brush, soft cloths for polishing. Unloading, disassembling, scrubbing and lubricating the barrel and the action, putting it all back together again, polishing the metal until it gleams lovely, subtle gray and burnished silver.

Riza cleans three of her guns and she’s just finished with putting her supplies away when she hears the key turn in the lock. Roy steps inside, and his smile at seeing her almost instantly fades into an expression of concern. “Riza,” he says, crossing over to the sofa and taking her into his arms. “What’s wrong?”

She bites back the instinctive response, to deny that anything is wrong; to claim that everything is fine. It is her job to protect Roy, and for an instant, Riza debates lying, telling him that there’s nothing amiss or just that she’s sick, and sending him away. She can bear this burden on her own, and protect him from it. Why should both of them suffer?

But something inside her warns her that she’ll regret that if she does, and Riza takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She glances at him for a second, and her gaze slides away. She can’t look at him. She can’t. She stares at the potted plant on the coffee table instead. “I’m pregnant,” she says.

The words fall, heavy, between them.

Roy blinks, looking stunned, like she had just struck him. Riza sees the panic begin to dawn in his eyes, then, the horror, the realization of what this means for them. It makes her stomach turn. Nobody ever wants to see panic and horror in the person they love’s eyes, and know they are the cause of it.

“I’m not keeping it, of course,” she continues. Her voice is remote, calm, unrecognizable even to herself. “I called your aunt from a pay phone this morning. She’s sending a couple of tinctures for me to take, and they should get here by tomorrow morning. It’s early enough that there’s no need for a surgical procedure.”

The expression of relief that flits across his face is gone in an instant, replaced by genuine concern, but it’s enough to gut her.

“Riza,” Roy says, reaching out to her, taking her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She doesn’t reply. She has no strength to speak.

Roy draws her into his arms, holds her close and so tightly it almost hurts, strokes her hair. Riza can feel his ragged breaths against her body, and she screws her eyes shut. She hasn’t wanted to break down so badly in years.

“It has to be done,” she says, her voice muffled by his shoulder, and she is proud that her voice remains steady. “Our careers - your ambition… We have to do this.”

Roy strokes her cheek. He is silent for a long while. It is a wild, ridiculous thought, but Riza imagines him saying Don’t, and her heart breaks.

“Thank you,” he whispers, at last. His voice cracks.

Riza bites the inside of her cheek and nods.

“If you wait to take the tinctures until tomorrow evening, I can be here with you,” Roy says, pulling back and looking into her eyes. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I won’t be.” Riza wraps her arms around herself. “I called Rebecca earlier. She’s taking the next train over from her parents’ place. And don’t worry - she doesn’t know anything except for the fact that my friend Elizabeth has fallen ill, but will make a full recovery after a course of some antibiotics.”

She hadn’t meant the words to sound bitter, genuinely wanting to assuage the question on his mind, but Roy slumps, rubbing the back of his neck. He takes it for a rebuke, and takes it without a word of denial. “Thank you,” he says again, quietly. “And I’m sorry.”

“It’s the right decision,” Riza repeats. “I know that.” And if she says it out loud enough, maybe that will lessen the knot in her chest, relieve the pit in her stomach and the weight pressing down on her shoulders.

Roy looks at her, concerned, and he opens his mouth to speak, but at that moment there’s nothing Riza wants more than to be alone. Far away from here. No, just far away from him. She’s never felt that way before.

“You should go,” she says, standing up.

He stays put. “I don’t want you to be by yourself,” he repeats.

There’s so much guilt written on him. She hasn’t seen him like this since Ishval. Even now, Riza worries for him, and makes herself smile a small smile. “I’m not alone,” she says, gesturing to Hayate, who rises from his spot near the window and trots to her side. “Besides, the last thing you want is for Rebecca to walk in on you here.”

“Oh. Right.” Roy finally stands, a little unsteady on his feet. “I’ll come over tomorrow after work, to check in.”

She doesn’t particularly want that; can’t imagine how she will face him, but Riza inclines her head anyway.

Roy steps close and cups her face in his hands, kisses her brow with such tenderness. Riza’s hand closes in the fabric of his shirt, holding on for a moment. There’s so much she wants to say, but she can’t.

She lets go, like she will tomorrow.

Roy leaves, looking back over his shoulder worriedly the whole time, as if he’s afraid she will combust.

Riza sinks back into her sofa and holds her arms out to Hayate. He bounds up beside her immediately, curling in her lap, and she strokes his soft, warm fur, numb.

She must have drifted off again, weary from this hellish day. When she wakes, she immediately realizes that she and Hayate aren’t alone on the sofa anymore. Rebecca is sitting beside her, a book open on her lap, two cups of tea on the coffee table in front of them. She smiles softly. “Hey, Ri.”

Riza leans into her, wrapping her arms around her friend in a rare moment of expressiveness. “Thanks for coming,” she murmurs. “I owe you.”

Rebecca strokes her hair, and then offers her the cup of tea. “You don’t. This is what friends are for.”

They pull back and look each other in the eye. “He’s not forcing you to do this, is he?” Rebecca asks at last, breaking the silence.

The bluntness of the question startles Riza, and she almost drops her tea. “What?”

“Come on, Riza,” Rebecca says softly. “He’s your commanding officer. Is he--”

She wants to deny it, she should, but she respects her friend too much to lie to her face. Rebecca deserves better than that. Riza shakes her head. “No,” she says. “I… I made the call before I even told him.”

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“It’s what I have to do,” Riza repeats, for what feels like the hundredth time, out loud and in her mind, that day. “For both of us.”

Rebecca sighs. “You don’t think there’s a way to keep it, without revealing who the father is?”

“No.” Riza stares into her teacup. “People would talk, and they would assume it’s him. It would end my career, and jeopardize his as well. And I can’t do that.”

“Fuck his career," Rebecca mutters under her breath. "Adoption?” she suggests, though she sounds unconvinced.

“I admire women who can make that choice, but carrying this pregnancy and holding our…” - Riza chokes - “Our child in my arms, and giving it to someone else to love? I know I can get through this, but I don’t think I could survive that.”

Riza turns away, unable to face the sympathy on Rebecca’s face. “It’s for the best,” she repeats. “The pain will be temporary.” And she remembers her father tattooing the Flame Alchemy array onto her back, and the agony of Roy burning away parts of it.

The physical pain will be temporary. She has heard about the cramps, the bleeding, that can occur with abortifacients. But the rest of it, the grief, the emotional pain - she will carry that with her, just like Ishval.

Rebecca takes her hand. “I’ll be here for you,” she says bracingly, reading her mind. “You’ll get through this, just like you did the rest. Now, I’m going to go make us something to eat.”

Riza’s stomach rebels at the thought. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry right now.”

Rebecca holds a hand up. “Not up for discussion. Dinner, then sleep. You need to keep your strength up.”

Riza can’t argue with that.

-

Riza had thought that sleep would be difficult in coming, but she is so weary emotionally that she succumbs just after dinner with Rebecca. She dreams of Ishval, and wakes up with tears in her eyes. She wonders if this is penance.

The morning has a surreal, dreamlike quality to it. Rebecca receives Madame Christmas’s courier at eight, and the two of them open the paper bag and look over the tinctures inside, and the enclosed letter. Riza reads the letter twice, taking in the instructions and the warnings. The tinctures have to be drunk consecutively. There will be cramping, and the bleeding will start one to four hours after taking the second of the two tinctures. There might be blood clots that could be “up to the size of a lemon.”

Rebecca takes Riza’s arm, and she holds on to it, grateful for the stability and gravity of Rebecca on one side of her and Hayate sitting next to her.

“Come on,” Riza says, finally. Her throat aches. “Let’s do this.”

They sit on the bathroom floor together. Rebecca holds a glass of water, and Riza holds the two tinctures of amber liquid. They look so innocuous.

“It’s not too late,” Rebecca says. “If you change your mind, know that I will do anything to support you. I have family connections in the civilian sector that can help you find another job.”

Riza takes her hand and squeezes it. “I know. Thank you.”

She is scared. It hurts to admit it, and it’s stupid, because this is the natural consequence of their actions, but she is scared. And as much as she had wanted him far away last night, right now, she wishes Roy were by her side.

Both tinctures taste bitter on their way down.

-

Roy goes straight to the liquor store after leaving Riza’s apartment.

He pastes a bright smile on his face the moment before he steps inside, and greets the employees cheerfully. He chats with them as he grabs a bottle of vodka, then whiskey, and then rum. He is stocking up for a party tonight, a gathering of old friends from his academy days. He can’t wait. It’s been more than a year since they last got together.

The smile falls off Roy’s face as soon as he leaves the store. He wants nothing more than to break open one of the bottles on the walk to his house, but he stops himself. Public intoxication is conduct unbecoming of an officer. Just like carrying on a secret affair with one’s subordinate and forcing her to face the consequences on her own.

Roy opens the bottle of vodka as soon as he’s back in his dark, small apartment. He has three gulps down, burning his chest like fire, by the time he collapses on the sofa, head in his hands.

-

The next day is hell.

Drunk for most of the night, raging hangover and trying to hide it, three hours of sleep, painfully hot shower to attempt to wash the smell of liquor off of him before coming into work, hell.

“Where’s Hawkeye?” Havoc asks, as soon as they’re all (not all) in the office. Riza’s absence is conspicuous; Roy feels it like one of his senses had suddenly vanished.

Falman scratches his head. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen her miss a day before.”

Roy stares down at his paperwork and tries not to flinch.

“Out sick,” Fuery replies, looking up from his radio. “She left a message. Said she should be back by mid-week.”

“Must be a hell of a cold,” Breda says. “Let’s order a soup delivery from Harmann’s to her place over lunch.”

Roy spends the day staring at his paperwork and getting nothing significant done. His head pounds. Every other moment he finds himself thinking about how Riza is doing.

He knows more about medical abortions than the average person, from listening to his aunt and the ladies at the bar. He knows more than he wants to. The painful cramps, clots, nausea, dizziness. And he remembers hearing about the infection that had sent Vanessa to the hospital in the middle of the night and nearly killed her.

He was supposed to protect Riza. She is the most important person in his world. He was supposed to protect her, not put her in one of the worst positions of her life, to the point of putting her health in danger. He hasn’t failed so colosally since Ishval. The shame makes Roy’s throat close up and his face burn.

He let her down. Riza has shown him nothing but loyalty, devotion, compassion, empathy, and love, for all these years, and he has repaid it like this. With a secret abortion alone at home. He can’t even be by her side today, because then they’d be out of work at the same time. Then people would talk, rumors would spread, and that would sabotage their careers and his ambition.

Roy rubs his eyes and curses himself for selfish garbage. He asks himself, for the tenth time since the last evening, if his ambition is worth it.

At least Riza isn’t completely alone, he remembers belatedly. Rebecca is with her. That is a small comfort. And he can go see her as soon as he leaves work (but after night falls and the city streets begin to empty out, because nobody needs to see him visiting his adjutant’s apartment alone, because then people would talk, rumors would spread…)

The thought of seeing Riza makes Roy’s chest tighten with anxiety. He wants to see her, he needs to see her - your selfish wants and needs are what got Riza into this situation in the first place, he reminds himself brutally - and at the same time, something in him shrinks back from the thought. He remembers the way she had looked at him last night, removed and distant. Riza has never looked at him like that before.

What if she hates him now? What if she’ll never be able to look at him again without remembering the pain he has put her through?

His palms are sweating. Roy wipes them against his chair, trying to still the slight tremble to them.

He can’t remember the last time he felt so sickeningly, viscerally anxious. The rest of the hours drag by. One by one, the rest of the team leaves for the evening.

Roy locks up the office once they have all gone. Stops in the locker room, changes out of his uniform, washes his face, dry heaves over the sink a few times.

He goes to Bosque’s after leaving and picks up food for Riza. It’s blissfully dark by then. A blessing, considering how badly the lights and sunshine have made his head pound all day. He’s walking up the stairs, lost in thought, and almost runs into someone coming down.

She is short, dark-haired, and looks just as preoccupied as he had been. They recognize one another the instant they lock eyes.

“Catalina,” Roy manages, inclining his head, suppressing the immediate, instinctive reaction of fuck, this is bad.

Rebecca’s eyes narrow. “Scumbag,” she says, and shoulders past him, continuing down the stairs.

Roy stares, taken aback. Before she can get too far, he reaches out, grabbing her by the arm. “Wait,” he says, too loudly. “How is she?”

Rebecca shakes him off. “Like you ca--”

“Please,” Roy interrupts. In any other time, he would have been incensed, but now, all he feels is weariness and worry.

“She’s okay,” Rebecca says at last, refusing to make eye contact with him. “It went as well as can be expected. No sign of fever or complications.”

Roy closes his eyes, and all the breath leaves his body in a long sigh. “Thank you,” he says. “For being there when I couldn’t.”

Rebecca glares at him and then whirls around, leaving without another word.

Roy proceeds upstairs, unlocking the door with some trepidation. “Riza?” he calls, stepping inside.  

Hayate yips, but doesn’t rise from his spot on the sofa, next to Riza. She sits there, wrapped in a blanket, the book he had given her on her lap, cup of tea in her hand. She looks at him, and her grasp on the teacup seems to tighten. “Hey,” she says quietly.

Her face is pale, and there are dark circles under her eyes. She looks drawn, exhausted.

Roy drops the bag of food on the floor and walks over to her, enfolding her in his arms without a word. There is so much he wants to say, so much that he had planned to say during those hours of work, and now, he can’t bring himself to speak.

“How are you feeling?” he manages, at last.

“I’m okay,” Riza says, drawing away from him, resting her hands on Hayate again. His fur warms her hands so well. She’s felt cold most of the day. “Still a bit...sore. But the worst of it has been over for hours.”

“I’m glad,” Roy says, pulling in a ragged breath, and Riza looks at him out of the corner of her eye, through her bangs. Even now, the sight makes her aching shoulders tighten a little further out of worry. He looks as awful as she’s ever seen him, and he smells faintly of alcohol. He had made the effort to shave, but there’s a fresh cut on his cheek.

It’s clear that he hasn’t taken this well. Or in stride. She never likes to see him agitated, let alone deeply disturbed like this, but it gives Riza a sense of perverse reassurance. That at least she isn’t the only one suffering. The thought makes her feel guilty a heartbeat after she has it.

“I’m so sorry,” Roy whispers. He takes her hand, holds it tightly, stares at the coffee table.

“Don’t be,” Riza makes herself say, because that is the right response. “This wasn’t your fault. It was both of us.”

Roy turns and looks at her with that intense, penetrating stare she knows so well, the one that can root anyone to the floor and cause any thought of untruths to wither and die. “Are you all right?” he asks, and that look on his face prevents her from her first, instinctive response. “I’ve always counted on you to be honest with me. Please don’t stop now. Don’t feel that you have to hold back in order to spare me anything.”

That sincerity, the plea, cuts deep. Riza meets his gaze. “I know this is what I had to do,” she says carefully, willing herself to keep her voice steady. “What we had to do. I kept - keep - telling myself that. And you. And Rebecca. I kept thinking that, but…”

She trails off, suddenly unable to say another word.

“Oh, Riza,” Roy whispers, sounding anguished, and he puts his hand on her shoulder.

Riza folds into herself, wrapping her arms around her stomach, and breaks down sobbing. Roy pulls her into him, holding her tightly as she weeps, curling against him, painful, gasping for air, gut-wrenching sobs, like she hasn’t since her mother died and then Ishval. As hard as she tries, she can’t stop. “I wanted it,” she cries. “I know it’s stupid, but I wanted it, so badly, and...and--”

“It’s not stupid,” Roy says hoarsely. She can feel the moisture in her hair and knows that he is crying too.

She hadn’t cried when the cramps had wracked her body, and hadn’t cried when the bleeding had started. She had put herself into a stoic daze, like she had so many times before. Now, it’s like a dam has broken. Riza cries for what feels like hours, until her ribs and eyes ache and she can barely breathe.

Roy holds her the entire time, stroking her hair, wiping her face with the corners of her blanket. When her tears finally subside, he tilts her face up to his with a gentle pressure of fingers on his chin, and Riza looks up into his reddened eyes.

“Next time, it will be different,” Roy says quietly. “I promise you that.”

His voice is deadly serious, the way it had been when he had vowed to become Fuhrer. The words take a moment to sink in, and they make her eyes burn all over again. Riza nods wordlessly.

Roy reaches out and tucks a lock of stray hair behind her ear. Then he looks at her, a searching, tentative gaze. He leans forward, slowly, like he’s never done before, clearly telegraphing the movement, and kisses her softly on the lips.

Riza kisses him back, like she has a thousand times before. But this time, instead of feeling like coming home, like comfort, it hurts. As viscerally as it had when he had burned the skin on her back so long ago.

She jerks away instinctively, automatically. Roy blinks at her, startled, and then turns red. “I’m sorry,” he says hastily. He reaches toward her, and then hesitates, pulling his hands back, as if remembering himself. “I shouldn’t have just--”

Riza touches his knee, feeling his leg twitch beneath her hand. “It’s not you,” she says, with feeling. “It just feels too...raw...right now.” She pauses, struggling with the words. “It might be a while until everything feels...right. I just need time.”

“Of course,” Roy says, running a hand through his hair, making it stand on end.

He looks like he is going to say something, and Riza forestalls him. “You don’t have to wait for me,” she says. “If all of this has become too much of a complication in your life, a distraction from your goal. Or if you’d rather be with a woman you can actually take out in public. Someone without all of this--” she tries not to choke on the word, and gestures between them. “Baggage.”

Roy grabs her hand, giving her another one of those intense looks. “Riza,” he says. “There is nobody else I would rather be with. I don’t care how long I have to wait for you. Whether it’s weeks, or months, or years. I’ll wait, without question.”

“Roy--”

“I’m a patient man,” he says, squeezing her hand. “And I won’t be deterred from my goals. You should know that.”

“I do,” Riza whispers, relenting at last. “I do. And thank you, for understanding.”

“Always.”

Roy stays over that night, though, just to make sure that she is all right. They eat dinner together and Roy takes Hayate out for a short walk. Afterward, he tucks her into bed and settles into the reading chair in the corner of her room, near the window. Riza falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.

She wakes up briefly at sunrise, to Roy moving around the room, getting ready to leave for work. The other side of her bed is still tucked neatly, and it looks like he had slept in the armchair.

“Try to get some paperwork done today, Colonel,” she says, turning toward him, half-getting up in bed. “I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on.”

His back is to her, and she sees him stiffen at the formality of the words. He turns to face her, and Riza smiles.

Roy visibly relaxes at the look on her face, and salutes her. “I’ll do my best, Lieutenant.”

He leaves, and Riza settles back into bed, feeling simultaneously melancholy and more at ease than she has in days.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Sniffing out impostors

In a dimly lit section of the capital city on the planet Karkoga, a hooded figure ushered themselves quickly through the streets. Their features were largely hidden by their attire but it was obvious to see that they clearly did not wish to be recognized. 

Walking past several blocks the hooded figure stopped and turned around to confirm they were not being followed before entering in a nearby door to an underground bar. 

The interior was a sharp contrast to the dim outside. The establishment was brightly lit and filled with bright lights and vibrant colors. The center of the room was a large stage surrounded by tables filled with patrons as they cheered the attractive dancers on. The dancing wasn’t the only source of entertainment the hooded figure noted as they attempted to make their way through the packed room. They saw numerous tables adorned with various boards, cards, dice, and large sums of currency all being wagered. 

Finally, the hooded figure found their way the back of the room in a secluded booth with another patron already sitting there. “Was this choice of venue really the best choice for our discussions?” the hooded figure remarked as they took their seat opposite mysterious patron. “When planning something illegal, it’s best to plan it in the hive of criminals.” 

The hooded figure observed the mysterious patron. Like themselves they were also wearing a hooded cloak, but whatever was underneath seemed to move and readjust itself at random. One moment they appeared massive with a spiky back, the next they appeared to be composed of numerous tentacles. 

The mysterious figure held out a strange appendage and motioned to the surrounding patrons. “This place is run by a new criminal group carving out a large chunk of territory in the capital. Even the magistrates are afraid to come this far in and steer clear. We’ll be fine. Now let’s talk business.” 

The hooded figure held out a small file. “I need this target eliminated.” The mysterious figure reached out with a different appendage then what it was before and took gold of the file, opening it slightly and flicking through the contents. They paused for a moment and looked at the hooded figure. “A human?” The hooded figure nodded. “Can it be done?” The mysterious figure chuckled and tucked the file somewhere inside their cloak. “I’d say you offered so much for such a simple job but there is no renegotiation. Meet back here in two solar cycles and I’ll have proof the job is completed.” 

Before the hooded figure could ask another question the mysterious figure began convulsing under their clothes. No, that wasn’t right, the hooded figure thought, the clothes are merging somehow. The color suddenly drained from the dark black cloak the mysterious figure was wearing and was replaced with a bright slime green. Were it not for the fact that the hooded figure was watching it with his very own eyes he would not have believed it, but where once had been a mysterious figure now lay a large clump of green slime. 

The hooded figure could see the fly he hand previously handed them floating inside the goop like nuts in jello. Without another word the slime slithered across the ground and without a single patron noticing before exiting out the front door. 

The hooded figure let out a deep sigh and waved down a waitress to order a drink. Dealing with Plasmoids was always a dangerous gambit as one was deprived of any ability to read their body language, facial expressions, or any of the other dozen tells a trained professional could read to predict someones actions. They were masters of disguise and were infamous throughout the galaxy as expert assassins which was exactly what he had paid them for. 

When his drink finally arrived he grinned imagining the fate of the human that had wronged him.

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

Aboard the battleship Tempest of the Cape, the crew went about their daily routine of maintenance when suddenly loud bells began chiming through the corridors. Every crew member knew what that meant and awaited it eagerly every day. Every crew member, with the exception of one. 

Conductor James Lee appeared somewhat lifeless and a bit dead on the inside which was hardly surprising considering his neck was snapped in several places and his body had been shoved into a locker far off the beaten path. The real James Lee had long moved on from this plane of existence, but his doppelganger was still alive and well and moving with a purpose. 

The plasmoid assassin had snuck aboard the battleship when it last docked for resupply and smuggled itself on board. Once the ship had taken off again it slithered out from the cargo crate it had been contained in and right into the path of one unsuspecting James Lee who was making his rounds in the cargo hold. 

James had spotted the lump of green slime on the floor and at first had considered if there had been a leak in one of the containers. He approached it to inspect it when it lunged up and before James could even shout out a final cry of disbelief his entire head was encased in a perfect sphere of slime. 

James had desperately clawed at the sphere with his hands to get free but within a heart beat he felt the slime encasing his head shift left and right rapidly like someone opening a doorknob. His neck near damn detached itself from his spine and the lifeless body of James Lee crumpled to the floor. 

The plasmoid wrapped itself around the entire body of the now deceased like a second layer of skin and manipulated it into a nearby locker, closing the door from the inside. The plasmoid then slithered off the body and out back into the hold were it began morphing it’s body to match the appearance of James Lee. Humans were rather easy to copy. Two limbs, same skin tone across the majority of their body, limited hair patches, etc. Compared to other species the plasmoid has had to copy in other contracts this level of detail was child’s play.

It had just finished its copy and was about to proceed with its contract when the bells began ringing. Several humans entered the cargo room and waved to the plasmoid who had no choice but to wave back. 

“James! Get over here already, it’s lunch time!” 

This was what the plasmoid dreaded the most on the job. He had planned to use the new form and bypass what security he could to reach his target, then take another form. Now he was forced to maintain his cover and play along. The new James Lee nodded and quickly hurried over to the group.  The group began making their way through the corridors to the mess hall. One of the group, a tall human male of darkened skin, turned to James. “Anything look out of the ordinary in the holds?”   The Plasmoid shook their head. “Same old, same old.” The voice copy was nearly perfect and they were sure the humans wouldn’t notice a difference. While the plasmoid have been snapping the neck of the real James Lee it had also filled his throat with slime and copied the vocal cords perfectly. He’d also performed research on human speech patterns and sayings to have an understanding of their linguistics. Another human, a female, turned her head to look at the plasmoid. “Is something wrong with your voice? You sound different today.”  The Plasmoid was momentarily shocked but corrected themselves. “Must be the humidity in the hold. I have been feeling a bit light headed since walking in there.” Blaming the heat was something the plasmoid noticed humans do when something is out of place. The human female looked at him inquisitively but then shrugged and looked away.   A fluke, the plasmoid thought, they couldn’t have really noticed.  The group entered the mess hall. They grabbed food and sat down at one of the tables as the. The Plasmoid was waiting for their chance to extricate themselves and continue on their contract when another woman of the group noticing something odd.  “You’re eating meat?” The Plasmoid looked down at their tray for the first time. They had just grabbed anything that was in front of them, lost in though about finding their target. “Yes, so?” “Well, you’re allergic to meat. Doesn’t it make you break out in hives?” “Ah, yes, you’re right. Must’ve been out of my mind.” They used a fork and pushed the meat to the side of their tray.  “You seem a bit off today James. Maybe you should see the medic.” The plasmoid smiled and shook their head. “I’m fine really, just was the heat. It got to me and made me feel a bit light headed.” I should’ve killed someone with less friends, he thought.   The group was now looking at him with concern and the plasmoid was getting anxious. He needed to get away right now. “Hey James,” the previous male human was speaking to him now, “have you ever seen the movie “The Thing”?” “Can’t say I have, but we should watch it sometime.” The male human smiled and nodded to the others at the table as he stood up to leave.  “We really should sometime. Guess I’ll see you later.” They turned to leave before stopping. “Oh yeah James, had one last question.” The plasmoid turned to face them, smiling. “What’s my name?”  The plasmoid opened their mouth but stopped thinking of a response, but without waiting a moment longer the male human swung their tray as hard as they could and smashed it into the side of the plasmoid’s head. The tray was swung like a baseball bat and the copy’s head was sent flying on to a nearby table, leaving a green slime where blood and bone should have been. One of the crewmen on the other table started screaming as they looked at the decapitated face of James Lee looking back at them.  “INTRUDER!” From other side of the room someone pulled a lever in the wall and sirens began wailing, red hazard lights flashing rapidly as the mess hall erupted into sheer panic as everyone began scrambling for the exits.  The man who had swung the plate made to take another swing but the decapitated body suddenly grew tentacles and grabbed both of his wrists. With a painful cracking sound the plasmoid broke both wrists and sent the human sprawling to the ground screaming, their hands hanging limply in their cradled arms.  The detached head reverted to its slime form and quickly slithered across the floor and rejoined the main mass. "Well frak this!” the woman on the other side of the table shouted. They grabbed the underside of the table and with one motion filled it over on to the plasmoid who had been reverting to their green slime like appearance.  With a loud squish sound the table crushed the plasmoid and the woman stood on top of it and looked to her injured friend. Before she could ask how they were the slime slithered out from under the table and wrapped itself along her legs up to her arms. It brought it to her knees and forced her to strangle herself with her own arms.  The plasmoid was so focused on strangling the human that had squished him that he failed to notice to other female approaching from behind with a large red cylinder.  A sudden gush of pain flashed across the plasmoid and they instantly retreated from the human. The gust from the fire extinguisher was seething pain and it’s chemical composition was making the plasmoid’s usually slime body to begin hardening. The female continued spraying it until the cylinder fully ran out at which point she chucked the empty container into the plasmoid shattering it.  The trio of them waiting in silence to see if it would start moving again. When it didn’t they breathed a collective sigh of relief. The fire extinguisher woman held out a hand to the man on the floor to help him up. “Love the notion, but only one problem with this” they said and held up their limp hands with still broken wrists. “Oh , right.” She bent over and lifted him up.  “How did you know he was fake?” she asked him as he cradled wrists. “Aside from the fact he didn’t know my name? We watched “The Thing” last night.” She helped the woman who flipped the table up and the trio just stood looking at the grey chunks of the thing that had nearly killed them.  “Either of you notice anything?”  “It was the meat for me, James never had meat and once even through a steak at me when I offered him one.”  The woman who had been choked coughed before answering. “His eyes. They were a different color when we met him by the cargo hold.”  Just then a squad of military provosts stormed into the mess hall all training their weapons on the three of them. The three of them held up their hands and didn’t move.  “Who wants to try explaining this one?” “I do!” “Without any pop-culture references?” “I less want to now.”  ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This story is from a personal request by @thatonephlogpyro . I hope you enjoy it :D