#the pupil turning against her mentor

[dolce-tenebra-toscana]

Drown in your sorrow and fears

Choke on your blood and your tears

Bleed 'til you've run out of years

We must do what it takes to survive

Give up your honor and faith

Live up your life as a wraith

Die in the blood where you bathe

We must do what it takes to survive

We are the same, you and I....

Pesca moments before unaliving Fucile

Finally i have inspiration again, the prequel of vento aureo with Pesca may finally have an ending after all~

[lowkeyerror]

Guidance pt2

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Notes: slight angst, abandonment issues, spoilers for Agatha All Along,, large time skip from part 1

Summary: Rio shows up at your home centuries after your last meeting, asking for your help to free Agatha from a spell. You're reluctant to help her as her presence reminds you of how she and Agatha abandoned you.

An: See... minutes later as promised. Hope you enjoy. Likes, comments, replies, and reblogs are much appreciated 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Part 1 | Masterlist

You sit up abruptly, your hands reaching to cradle your face. Your heart beats rambunctiously in your chest. The memory of Agatha and Rio haunts your dreams.

You can't stand how sweet it is. How fresh it feels even after centuries have passed. You swing your feet over the side of your bed deciding to abandon sleep completely.

Your feet pad against your wooden floor all the way to the kitchen. You turn the light on, and stop in your tracks as you notice a pizza on your counter.

You hadn’t ordered any pizza.

“Long time no see, sweetheart.”

You didn't hesitate to shoot a ball of fire in the direction of that voice. The voice that whispered in your ear, the voice that praised you, the voice of one of your mentors.

“Aw, didn't miss me?”

You turn to face her, but she’s crafty. Her dagger is already pressed against your neck. You can feel her breathing in your ear. Her presence just as warm as you remembered.

“What do you want?”

She puts a little pressure on the dagger, “Watch the tone, pumpkin.”

You grew frustrated with her games. You threw your head back, head-butting the woman causing her to drop the dagger. You took the opportunity to pick it up. With her back on the floor, you straddle her waist and hold the dagger against her throat now. Tiny flames sparked in your pupils.

“Why are you in my house, Rio?”

The woman can't help herself, “I just missed being under you like this.”

You glare at the woman, replacing the dagger with your hand around her neck, “I should put you out of your misery right now.”

“Kinky,” she squeezes out.

“This is the last time I'm asking, what do you want?”

“A-Agatha.”

You release your hand from her throat, “What about her?”

Rio rubs a hand over her throat soothingly, “She’s gotten herself trapped in a spell of the Scarlet Witch.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

Rio’s hands get comfortable resting on your hips. You think about shaking her hands off of you, but you don't.

“She doesn't remember who she is. She thinks she's some woman named Agnes. I need your help to free her,” this is the most serious she has been this encounter.

“You’re literally Death. You don't need my help, you never did,” you spoke pointedly.

Her hand begins to climb from your hips up and under your shirt. It wasn’t sexual, just intimate.

“That’s not true,” she whispers, eyes locking on yours.

You scoff, but are unable to look away from her, “It feels pretty accurate.”

“I never stopped needing you,” Rio admits.

Your gaze softens for a moment, “Don’t lie to me.”

You get off of her, opting to lean against your kitchen counter. You needed to put distance between the two of you.

“Y/n, Agatha needs us,” Rio pleads with you.

“Where were you when I needed you? Where was she?”

Rio closes her eyes briefly, “We took you in.”

You furrow your brow in anger, “Is that all? You took me in, made me fall in love, and then you left me.”

Rio shakes her head, “No, you left us.”

Your eyes burn at her words, “I would've never left you.”

Rio shoots back, “I’m pretty sure you did. You left us, Agatha and I got into a fight over who’s fault it was. It was the last time we spoke.”

You shake your head, “No, I went out to collect firewood. I got a little turned around on the way back, but eventually I made it . When I got home the two of you were gone. I waited and waited and you never came back.”

“Impossible, we searched the whole forest looking for you before we started fighting,” Rio argues back at you.

“Bullshit,” you say through gritted teeth.

“You think we’d just abandon you after everything,” Rio sounds hurt by the accusation.

You want to comfort her, but you fight the urge, “I don’t think, I know because it happened.”

“Help me save Agatha, she will tell you the same,” Rio wagers.

“Fine,” you relent.

Rio takes your hand in hers and soon you are no longer in your house. You’re outside standing in front of a house you’ve never seen before. Rio is dressed in what seems to be a bad detective get up. You’re still in your pajamas.

“This is Agatha’s place,” Rio says going up and ringing the doorbell.

When the door opens you see one of the most powerful witches that you know in a baseball tee and jeans. Her hair is in a ponytail and her demeanor is nothing as you remembered it to be.

“Agnes, I thought we could talk about the case some more,” Rio says to the woman.

Agnes’s eyes cut over to you, “And who is this sad sack?”

“Y/n here, is special forces. She’s here to help us look beneath the surface. Isn’t that right, Y/n?”

You nod silently, observing Agatha’s state. She was always mischievous. Part of you hoped to see cracks of her shine through, but you couldn’t sense your Agatha underneath Agnes.

Agnes stepped aside to let you in.

You whisper to Rio, “What’s wrong with her? I can’t- I don’t feel her.”

“She’s trapped somewhere deep in her mind. I’ve tried to get her out, but I’m missing something,” Rio says.

You watch as Rio interacts with Agnes. The magic of the Scarlet Witch seems tedious to undo. You stare deeply into Agnes, traveling down into her psyche, trying to find any piece of Agatha.

“Does she just sit there and stare?”

“It’s part of her process,” Rio deflects.

Agnes leans forward to match your stare, “Look any harder and you might find yourself a carrot, bunny.”

You startle, at the old nickname.

“Excuse me?” You say and you see a far away look in the woman’s eyes. She shakes her head.

“Nothing, sorry about that. This case, it’s got my head all scrambled,” she says to herself.

You try to transport yourself back into your coven days. Head always buried in a spell book of some sort. You shift through the knowledge, hoping to find something that sticks.

Your eyes shut as words begin to fill your head. Latin words that you don't quite know anymore. They feel right so you begin to chant them under your breath.

“What is she saying?” You hear Agnes question.

“Nothing important, let's get back to the photos.”

Agnes shakes her head, “She's speaking gibberish, I think she's unstable. Mam, mam I'm going to need you to stop.”

Agnes gets in your face. Her hands shake your shoulders, but you just begin chanting louder. Your eyes begin to glow white as you look into her.

“She’s possessed, dear god,” Agnes tries to pull her hands off of you, but you keep them there.

“Agatha,” her name falls gently from your lips. “You’ve been lost, but I’ve found you.”

You can feel her. The witch underneath this costume. You reach for her in your mind. The layers begin to peel back and Rio watches as the character falls off of Agatha.

It’s like they’re traveling through the decades. The room seems to be shaking, as if there was an earthquake. Until finally there’s nothing left but Agatha.

Her eyes are wide open as she sits in front of you bare. Your hands still holding hers onto your shoulders.

“Y/n?” The disbelief in her tone lets you know that this is your Agatha.

Her eyes dart over to Rio, a scowl grows on her face.

“Hello, my love,” Rio winks at the naked woman.

Agatha lunges at Rio, but you pull her back into your grasp.

“I don’t care if you guys fight each other, but I need to know this first. Rio tells me that I left the two of you, but I remember you leaving me.”

Agatha looks at you with a crease in her brow, “We would've never left you, bunny.”

“Told you so,” Rio says.

You shake your head, “I don't understand.”

Agatha holds your face in her hands and you let her. Her thumb swipes across your cheek tenderly.

“Bunny, we searched for you, for hours. We couldn’t find you, we couldn’t feel you. Even when I went to look for you after our fight, I couldn’t feel you. I could never trace your magic,” Agatha’s voice falters towards the end.

“How did you find me?” You question Rio.

“The old fashioned way, sweetheart. I looked you up.” Rio gets closer to you and Agatha. “I couldn’t feel your magic either."

“I still don’t understand. I went home that day, neither of you showed up. I wasn’t gone for that long. I just got a little turned around,” you mumble to yourself more than them.

“What do you remember?” Agatha’s finger trails up, tapping on your head.

“I went to get firewood, I was walking.”

Agatha responds, “Do you remember for how long?”

“It felt like less than an hour,” you try to pull the memory forward.

Rio hums, “When did you get turned around?”

“I don't know.”

“Yes, you do. Find it,” Agatha pushes you.

A sensation stirs in you, almost feeling like you’re being buried alive, “I can’t.”

Rio’s kneeling down beside the two of you. Her eyes focus on you, “You can, Y/n.”

That feeling starts to intensify. You can feel dirt falling over your body. It’s suffocating you. You try to push Agatha off of you, but she stays in place. Rio has her hand on your knee trying to provide you with comfort.

There’s an intense flash of white light. All of a sudden you’re in the forest again. The soil is cold underneath your feet, and the night breeze tries to get into your cloak. Rio's cloak, why were you wearing her cloak?

“Where are we?”

You didn't expect to see Agatha and Rio at your side. Agatha now fully clothed, but her clothes were outdated. You all were wearing wardrobes of centuries past.

“I don't know,” you say, casting a fire ball in your hand.

“Well wherever we are I still don't have any magic,” Agatha grumbles.

“Why is this so familiar?” Rio reaches out to touch the trees.

Your eyes land on a cabin, one that was very familiar to you, “It’s home.”

They look at the cabin for a long minute.

“It is not,” Agatha says eyes narrowing.

“What do you mean?”

Agatha gets closer to the wooden structure. She pushes the door and it opens. Inside is the place you remember waiting for them for. You’re sure of it, that this is the home.

“Agatha’s right, close but no,” Rio’s eyes wander around the room.

“This is it,” you say firmly.

They both look at you. Rio speaks first, “This plant, it’s the wrong color and in the wrong place.”

“The blanket on the chair, the stitching is wrong,” Agatha feels it in her hand.

The details are small, but incorrect all the same. Your confusion only multiplies at the realization.

“But, I waited here,” you repeat it a few times, feeling like your breath was stolen from your lungs.

They are by your side in an instant. Agatha has her arms wrapped securely around you.

“We’re going to figure it out, bunny,” Agatha speaks to you, but her eyes are on Rio’s hoping that she could explain this.

“I think, we might be in a different dimension ,” Rio says.

“How would we be in a different dimension?” Your frustration bleeds through your words.

“Your power,” Agatha says as though she has connected all the dots.

Rio nods along, “You’ve crossed a dimensional barrier.”

“How?” You still were in disbelief.

Rio shrugs, “I don’t know, but I’m certain this is not our Earth. There are souls here that I know I have reaped.”

Agatha looks at Rio for clarification, “ A green witch can travel planes?”

Rio tilts her head from side to side, “Sort of, but not exactly. Most of them can travel through the soil. It’s more state to state, or maybe even out of the country, but this is… unheard of.”

“You said most,” you stop her.

She smirks, “Well, I’m Death; The Green Witch, I am able to travel the planes of the multiverse.”

“This would explain why we couldn’t feel you."

The realization hits you like a bullet to the chest. They didn’t leave you, you weren’t abandoned. The only reason you aren’t together is because they physically couldn’t get to you.

“Take us back,” your voice was delicate.

Rio obliged, putting the 3 of you back at Agatha’s house.

The moment you’re back you’re apologizing to the women, “I’m sorry. I thought you left, and didn’t want me. I spent all this time, hating you for leaving me, but you never did. I shouldn’t have believed that you would. I’m sorry it broke you guys up. I’m sorry that-”

Rio doesn’t let you continue. Her lips smash against yours hungrily. There’s nothing careful or patient about the kiss. It's as if you are her sustenance in that moment. She was unwilling to part even as your lungs screamed for oxygen. You questioned if you really needed it as much as you needed her lips on yours.

Rio only relents when she realizes that you were running out of air. She pecks your lips once more before letting you catch your breath.

Agatha goes to make a snarky remark that dies on her lips as Rio grabs her face. Rio rests her forehead against Agatha’s just breathing in the woman’s air. She’s waiting for something, Agatha’s permission.

You watch as Agatha scans the other woman’s face, potentially trying to remember all of the details. She nods ever so slightly and Rio doesn’t waste another second.

Your pupils dilate at the image before you. The hunger, the longing, the love you can see it all as they mix into each other.

“Do not be sorry, it’s no one’s fault,” Rio speaks as her lips leave Agatha’s.

“But-”

“Come here bunny,” Agatha turns from Rio to give you her attention.

You follow her instructions and shuffle over to her. Your eyes can’t help to dart to her lips. You wonder if you could taste Rio’s lips by kissing her.

“It’s nobody’s fault,” Agatha takes a hand and runs it through your hair.

You sigh, “We’ve spent so much time apart because of me.”

“We’re together now and that’s all that matters,” Agatha counters.

“Your magic,” your fingers intertwine with hers.

“I’ll get it ba-”

This time it’s you that cuts her off. Her lips are softer than you remember, and there is a faint earthy presence in her kiss. You take the opportunity to shoot some of your magic into her hands.

Instinctively she begins to absorb the power. It hurts you a little, but you’re too focused on the feeling of her tongue against your bottom lip. You open for her like you always have.

She moans into your mouth. You push further into her, weak as your magic slipped through your fingers.

You don’t want to stop kissing her, but if she takes anymore of your power, you’ll die. You want to push the boundary, but Rio doesn’t let you. She pulls you out of Agatha’s grasp severing the line between her power and yours.

“That was so reckless,” Agatha scolds you. “You could’ve died.”

You shrug, “You wouldn’t have taken it from me if I offered.”

Agatha scoffs, “Because it’s dangerous “

“I’m fine, Rio interfered so everything is fine,” you brush her off.

“I would say stop fighting, but I kind of like when you two argue,” Rio smirks.

You smile at her, “I feel like that’s my line.”

“Put me back under the spell, now,” Agatha pretends to be annoyed.

“You love it,” Rio pulls Agatha into a hug.

Agatha tugs you into the both of them.

“I don’t, but I love you.”

For the first time in centuries, you felt yourself breathe a little easier. It was surprising how quickly you all picked up where you left off. The bad blood trickled down into playful teasing. It was as if the universe was just better when you were with Agatha and Rio.

[hunterxmilo]

Defense attorney Miles Edgeworth and his chief Manfred Von Karma are here to face off against prosecutor Phoenix Wright and his mentor Lady Mia Fey! Miles may not have as much experience in court as others but he's determined to save the phoenix trapped in Lady Fey's gilded cage!

(I had this idea a few days ago where what if Edgeworth and Wright had their stories switched, even their personalities cause I've seen many versions of defense lawyer Edgeworth still being quite serious and goofy prosecutor Wright, but also their mentors also swapped roles too! (Honestly I just wanted to draw a young and good version of Manfred Von Karma and suddenly everyone is getting role/personality swaps!) I might (already am) be doing swapped roles for Franziska and Maya as well so I will have fun figuring out how they will turn out! (I'll go more in detail about the two girls and their roles when I have them finished!)

Also yes Mia killed Phoenix's Mother who was a defense attorney and then took him under her wing. Growing up, I like to imagine he is treated like a phoenix in a gilded cage where Mia flaunts her perfect pupil in public letting him out to prosecute and get a guilty verdict every time but when he is back in the manor he mainly hides away in his room to study and Mia barely interacts with him only telling him when to eat or what case he is to take next. Even when he grows up and gets a place of his own his night terrors keep him from fully getting rested and unannounced check ins from Mia always keeps him on his toes.)

(I'm driving myself insane (in a good way) thinking how this swapped universe works with these versions of these lawyers!)

[maxdibert]

What are your headcanons on Severus and the Malfoys? Do you think he genuinely considered them friends, or was it part of his cover? Or were they ever really friends at some point?

I have so much to say about this! I actually have two different versions of the story, and I think both of them could be canon. I can never decide between them because both seem plausible, so I’ll share my opinion on each and let everyone decide which one fits best.

Despite being a poor, scruffy, half-blood kid from a working-class background, I think Lucius took Severus under his wing because, after all, Lucius was already a 15-year-old teenager who was likely quite involved in pure-blood extremist circles and had probably heard of Voldemort by then. He was probably trying to make a good impression by recruiting as many people as possible. And despite Severus’ background, treating him with respect was a pretty shrewd move to maintain unity within Slytherin and promote that “us against the world” mentality. This would ultimately foster the cult-like environment that developed during that era. I also think that, after seeing that Severus, beyond his background, had a strong interest and talent for the Dark Arts and was a good student, Lucius probably saw that Severus’ skills could be useful, which is why he kept him under his wing. Lucius Malfoy is often portrayed as a snobbish buffoon, but besides being a shrewd man, he’s part of high society, old money. And even the classist aristocrats know how to make use of the working class and recognize talent because, historically, they’ve maintained their position by exploiting such talent.

I think Lucius and Severus maintained that mentor-pupil relationship for many years, and once Lucius graduated, he intervened to help Severus be accepted and valued within his House while also using him as a sort of personal charity project. Like Cher in Clueless (who’s based on Emma Woodhouse from Jane Austen) taking on an awkward kid from the North without wealth or pedigree and turning him into someone fit for high magical society—a kind of social experiment, if you will. I think this made Severus feel indebted to him, at least before Voldemort killed Lily. I also believe that, during Severus’ school years, his gratitude stemmed not only from this “mentorship” but also from the fact that, for the first time, someone believed in him and motivated him to pursue his ambitions. Lucius was like a father/older brother figure whom he respected and appreciated for seeing him as more than just a poor kid with nothing.

That said, my interpretation of their relationship splits into two possibilities once Severus becomes a double agent.

On one hand, there’s the idea that, after Lily’s death, feeling guilty and determined to actively work for Voldemort’s downfall, Severus emotionally distanced himself from the Malfoys as much as possible. The relationship they developed over the next 18 years would then be solely a means to an end—to gain favor with someone influential within the Ministry and among the most important dark wizards. Deep down, it was all a façade because the Malfoys also represented everything he despised and regretted being a part of, so he decided to cut off any emotional attachment to them. Basically: it was all fake.

The other version, and the one I prefer because it feels more realistic, is that Severus, as the abused and abandoned child he was, would always experience cognitive dissonance toward people who treated him well during his most vulnerable years. It’s something evident in his view of Lily, even though he was joining a group that literally wanted to kill people like her, and I can see it applying to his view of the Malfoys as well. Though they were a family actively working to end people like Lily, and Severus would ultimately have to confront them if it came to it, he’d still struggle to sever his emotional ties with the Malfoys. Just as he couldn’t understand why his friendship with Lily was ending because of his choices, I don’t think he’d be able to emotionally cut off the Malfoys, even if he knew they were terrible or knew he might eventually have to face them in battle. Much like how Lily being the first person to treat him with kindness was enough to make him risk everything to atone for his indirect role in her death and his support of Voldemort, I think Lucius “taking him in” also carved out a streak of loyalty in Severus toward his family. Severus strikes me as someone fiercely loyal to anyone who’s shown him kindness or understanding, even if that loyalty is against his own interests. And despite everything, I think he genuinely cared about the Malfoys. While he no longer admired Lucius, I think he still respected him in a certain way, like a younger brother who knows his older brother is a jerk but still sees him as his older brother.

I also think Narcissa had a kind of “older sister” vibe for him—that when she and Lucius were dating and Severus was still a kid, she saw him as this scruffy little guy, like a cute but poor puppy. And that impression probably stuck with him too. I think he always felt more comfortable with her than with Lucius, since she was associated more with the maternal than with authority. While his favoritism toward Slytherins was partly to maintain appearances and partly due to resentment toward Gryffindors, I believe he genuinely liked Draco. This affection, though, was likely another form of cognitive dissonance because Draco was far more similar to James than Harry ever was (in terms of character, classism, and using his status, family name, and influence to torment others). But just as his hatred of Harry was a reflection of his resentment toward James, his affection for Draco was probably a reflection of his relationship with Lucius and Narcissa.

[amethystunarmed]

Too Late to Go Back to Sleep

Word Count: 1,018 AO3 Thank you to my beta, @snarky-wallflower! You are the best!

Glinda is panting, entirely out of breath. Whether that is from the run or from the panic clamping her lungs, she isn't sure. Behind her, Elphie barricades the door, like it will stop the entire flock of flying monkeys and legions of trained guardsmen chasing after them. She clutches her hand over her heart, desperate for air.

“Oh, this is bad,” she murmurs, mostly to herself, but she wouldn’t mind if Elphaba actually listened to her. “This is so, so bad.” They have to go back, they have to let the Wizard explain, surely they are missing something.

"Citizens of Oz!”

Glinda jumps at the sound of Madame Morrible’s voice, booming like thunder, too loud to ignore. Iceification runs through her veins, like frost creeping across a window pane. Glinda has been derided by Madame Morrible enough to know this is anything but good.

“There is an enemy that must be found and captured!” Their professor, Elphie’s mentor, proclaims. She had hugged Elphie, just a little while ago. Glinda had foolishly been a bit jealous. 

“Believe nothing she says. She's evil. Responsible for the mutilation of these poor, innocent monkeys! Her green skin is but an outward manifestation of her twisted nature! This distortion... this repulsion... this... Wicked Witch!"

The announcement cuts out and Glinda watches as Elphaba clenches her jaw, staring blankly at the floor. The words make Glinda's stomach churn. Weeks ago, Galinda would have cheered to hear Madame Morrible say such things about Elphie. She would have been elatified to hear her idol disparaging her star pupil. Now, Glinda watches Elphie’s heart break, and her own breaks in turn.

She reaches out and grabs Elphie’s hand in solidaritude. “Don’t be afraid,” she says. Madame Morrible told Glinda to go after her, surely if they go back they will be able to fix all of this. Glinda will help her make it right.

“I’m not afraid,” Elphie says, and knocks away Glinda’s hand. “It’s the wizard who should be afraid.” Glinda recognizes that face, recognizes the steelification in her voice. Elphie is not going to back down. She isn’t going to be convinced, no matter what Glinda says.

Despair wells in Glinda's chest. It is the same feeling she gets when Fiyero gazes drifts away, when she can tell he is looking right through her, but so much worse.  Because Fiyero is just a boy, in a long line of boys. A good one, sure, one she would be devastated to lose.

But this is Elphaba Thropp. Her one-of-a-kind Elphie. Glinda knows in her heart she will never find another person like her, even if she searched Oz for centuries. It was why she had been so excited when the Wizard said Glinda could join them. The very concept of getting everything she had always wanted and everything she didn’t know she needed. The idea of that glamtorius life at Elphie’s side… It had been intoxicational. And now, Glinda can only plead helplessly as Elphie drifts further and further out of her reach. That gorgeous fantasy crumbles into dust with every one of Elphaba’s declarations.

Until, of course, she asks Glinda to come with her.

Glinda can picture it so clearly. The fantasy shifts, no longer Elphaba and Glinda side-by-side with the Wizard, but against him. The two of them versus the world, hand in hand, triumphant. There are no celebrations, no parades, no ballgowns, or dashing suitors. 

Just her and Elphie, changing Oz for good. 

And… Glinda finds she doesn’t miss the luxuries, not if it means she gets to have Elphie’s smile, gets to keep waking up with her nearby every single day until they are old and gray. 

They would be unlimited.

“Well?” Elphie asks, hand extended to her. “Are you coming?”

Glinda wants to say yes, so very badly. 

But she knows where she belongs, where she has always belonged. She belongs in the spotlight, with a husband everyone wants and children everyone envies. She is meant to spectactulate in the sunlight, not hide in the shadows. She would never survive in the life Elphaba is proposing.

Tears well in her eyes. She smiles and takes a step back. “Oh Elphie, you’re trembling.” She turns to hide her face as the tears finally fall. She finds a cloak hanging on one of the abandoned costume racks, and wipes her eyes as she shakes the dust off.

She brings it back and drapes it over Elphie’s shoulders. It hangs around her in endless black waves, like it was clinging to her. Glinda ties the knot tight, hoping it can substitute the comfort she will soon be unable to give.

Though she hasn’t said it, Glinda can tell Elphie knows she will be going alone. Her own tears drip down her cheeks, even as Elphie tries to smile at her. It is so similar to their night at the Ozdust, Glinda feels that all she will need to do is turn and they will be back. They will be among the glitzerrific crowds, dancing together for the first time. All she needs to do is open her eyes, and everything will be okay again.

But no. Elphie is once again crying because of Glinda, and there is nothing she can do to fix it, not this time.

On impulse, she leans forward, and kisses the tear from Elphaba’s cheek. Elphie gasps, a quiet, honest noise that will haunt Glinda’s dreams in the years to come.

“I hope you're happy,” Glinda whispers to her. 

Maybe the Wizard can’t grant her heart’s desire, but she hopes something out there can.

She doesn’t think she’s ever wanted anything more than she has wanted Elphaba Thropp’s happiness. 

So when she sees Elphaba above them, terrifying and as beautiful as Glinda has ever seen her, she says it again, a prayer, a wish, and a blessing all wrapped into one.

I hope you’re happy.

She hopes Elphie, at least, finds what she is looking for out there.

Because as Madame Morrible guides her away, Glinda can’t imagine ever being happy again.

[just-jordie-things]

[part three] trouble - takuma ino

word count: 7k warnings: swearing, canon typical violence mentioned, shibuya arc mentions summary: just when she thinks she's got her feelings all sorted out, the shibuya incident has to go and fuck it all up. contents: friends to lovers, gojo!reader, your favorite sappy scene where a finds b injured and loses their mind <3 we skimmed over key points in the arc bc i just couldn't do it folks

part three: "god, don't let me lose my mind" ___

As it turns out, the deeper something is buried the scarier it is when it comes back up, and it was a terrifying sight to have every hidden ounce of her affections thrown back at her face- or more accurately, shoved up her throat.

The Shibuya Incident changed everything.

She’d assumed she’d follow Nanami and his small team that consisted of a first year, Fushiguro Megumi, and then of course Ino.  However, when she arrived on the scene, Ijichi had instructed that she was to find Zen’in Naobito and the students under his supervision, Kugisaki Nobara and Maki.

“I don’t understand,” She shook her head at the manager beckoned for him to show her the electronic paperwork with the order.  “Nanami’s mentoring me for Grade One, why would I be sent away?” 

Ijici anxiously glanced between her and the team of three who also seemed confused by the sudden change in development.

“I- I’m so sorry, Gojo-san,” He stammered.  He never did like making people upset with the orders handed to him, most days he was merely a messenger, however when it came to the Gojos specifically, this was his worst nightmare.  “Here, it’s all here, I- I don’t know why they’d separate you, perhaps more foot traffic? Uh, the station is quite overpopulated and there’s, um, only a few people scouting the perimeter” 

As he holds out his device she swipes it up gingerly, eyes scanning through the order from the higher ups with great speed.  Ijichi gulped down the lump in his throat, praying she wouldn’t break the phone with her iron group.

“It’s alright, (y/n),” Nanami came to the manager’s rescue.  “We’ll be fine, the three of us.  You should go with them” 

She passed the phone back to Ijichi with a small nod of gratitude for his help, and he was quick to disappear, likely off to report back to Nitta.

“They’ve still got me,” Ino grinned from ear to ear, before throwing his arm up against Megumi’s shoulder.  The boy gave him a bored look before shrugging him off.

(y/n) gives him a look that tells him her concern didn’t lie in their ability to handle the situation in the slightest.  The greatest concern right now was that everyone’s cell phones were out of service due to the veil over the area, which effectively cut off all communication between the divided teams.  The idea of splitting off from the two of them- and Megumi- unsettled her.  

Since she’d arrived on the scene shortly after her brother, there had been a twist of unease in her gut.  Like something was terribly wrong.  Or something terrible was bound to happen.

“Unless you’re saying you can’t handle it!” Ino tries to lighten the tension currently laying itself on thick the longer she stands before them, waiting for something that wouldn’t come.

If Nanami told her to go with them, she would.

Ino steps forward as Nanami turns to go over their orders with Megumi again, giving his pupils some semblance of privacy in the hopes of convincing (y/n) to follow the order handed to her.  If she went against what was asked of her, he wouldn’t be able to cover for her if any casualties- property damage or lives- occurred.

If either one of them asked her to stay with them, she would.

She doesn’t react to Ino’s statement, which sends up warning flags in his head, knowing that usually she’d quip back something snarky about how she could handle this entire assignment by herself and blindfolded.

“This isn’t normal,” She tells him quietly once he’s close enough and she thinks Megumi won’t be able to eavesdrop.  She doesn’t want to alarm him, but this gut feeling of hers was starting to eat her up.  “They’ve never split us like this before.  Something isn’t right” 

Ino believes her, already having his suspicions that something was off when he’d arrived with Nanami, but even if he didn’t trust her judgment, he could see the apprehension clearly in her eyes, and that was reason enough for him to understand.

“I know,” He agrees quietly, glancing over his shoulder quickly to make sure Megumi and Nanami were still occupied.  “But it’ll be fine, right?” He tells her hopefully, but the expression on her face doesn’t budge.  She stares at him expectantly, silently begging him to say what she needed him to in order for her to stay.  “We can handle it.  It’ll probably only be a few hours anyways” Instead, he continues to try and talk her down from her worried ledge, unknowingly only pushing her further onto it.

Her jaw clenches as she bites down on her own teeth in order to keep herself from blowing up and saying something reckless.

She lets out a sigh to calm herself down before speaking.

“A lot can happen in a few hours” 

Her eyes shift between his in a rapid movement, trying to convey everything in silence that she couldn’t say out loud.  She’s not sure if it works, but for a brief moment, a flash of disturbance flickers over Ino’s face, like maybe in that second he was able to understand what she wasn’t saying.  Just as quickly as she’d caught it, it was disappearing, and he was smiling again.

“Like two Grade One promotions, yeah?” He asks, holding his hand out to her.

That cracks the smallest of smiles out of her, easing her nerves for just a minute as she realized tonight could be the last thing she needed before finally getting her promotion.  So she takes his hand and shakes it roughly with her enthusiasm.  Ino chuckles to himself, about to pull away with his parting words of wishing her luck, but her fingers tighten around the curve of his hand and she doesn’t let him part from her just yet.

He’s confused when she stares up at him with a grave realness in her eyes, mixing with some other emotion he’s not sure he’s ever seen in them before.  His features soften with his surprise, but before he could ask her what’s keeping her, she’s whispering a threat under her breath.

“Don’t do anything stupid” 

It’s cold and harsh, just like how she used to treat him before shared assignments.  But Ino knows better now.  He understands the look of pure fear in her eyes as she mutters out the words like poison.  And despite the way she’s almost frowning at him, he smiles brightly as he squeezes her hand back with the same fervor.

“I know,” He says, almost cheekily.  She wants to be annoyed.  Maybe even shake him by the collar and tell him she’ll kill him if anything happens to him.  But she can only stand and stare at him with a slight gape of her mouth.  “I promised,” He shrugs one of his shoulders like his words alone were enough to shield him from harm.  “Can’t go back on my word” 

And then their grip on each other is loosening, before their hands fall away altogether, and (y/n) has to swallow the lump in her throat before addressing Nanami and Megumi.

“Report back when you can, okay?” She asks, her weapon of choice already materializing in her hand.

“We’ll see you soon,” Nanami nods his head in acknowledgement.  “Don’t let that old man boss you around.  You can run circles around him” He adds with a hint of a smile on his face.

She nods back at him, already starting to grin from the adrenaline of rushing off into an unknown battle. Her eyes catch Ino’s once more, and he throws up a peace sign with his fingers, tapping his forehead with them to give her half a salute.

“See you soon, partner”  ___

The gut feeling had subsided while she worked side by side with Maki and Nobara, paying as little attention to the head of the Zen’in Clan as she could.  For a little while, she almost considered taking a path of teaching as she aided the girls in their attacks, although they barely needed assistance, they were more than capable of defending themselves.

But it wasn’t long before they were split up, and (y/n) took the first opportunity she could to get back to her group.  It was hard to tell how much time had passed, and she tried not to worry about it as she followed Nobara and Nitta to where they presumed Nanami was.  Still, her heart was pounding against her ribcage with every step she took into the station.

It wasn’t professional of her, but when she found Nanami and Itadori Yuuji, her heart leapt to her throat and was speaking for her without hesitation.

“Where’s Ino?” 

Itadori was excitedly asking his mentor if the woman standing before them now was his sensei’s sister, even going so far as to tug on the man’s sleeve and beg him to introduce him properly.  On another day (y/n) might have been a little flattered, but right now she nearly tunes it out completely as she awaits Nanami’s answer.

“Ran into some curse users that came crawling out of the woodwork… listen, (y/n)-” 

“Where is that?” She cuts him off before he could explain further, and it’s obvious the way her entire body tenses with her impatience.

Nanami frowns, not knowing how to approach the situation calmly, but there was no time to sit down and slowly walk her through it.

“Satoru has been sealed,” 

She blinks, the words barely processing at all.  Maybe because it wasn’t what she was expecting, or maybe because they didn’t make a lick of sense.  Either way, she stands frozen and rigid before them all, not speaking a word.

“The patchwork curse is operating with something far worse that we weren’t expecting.  They had access to the prison realm.  Your brother is currently inside of it.  We have reason to believe that Kenjaku is playing a role and-” 

“It’s Suguru, isn’t it?” 

His name burns in her throat as if it was cursed so heavily just speaking it sent a poison down through her bloodstream.

Nanami’s lack of an answer tells her more than she needs to know.  The information tries to take over her mind, tries to nestle itself in as a proper distraction from what her next steps were going to be.

She casts it aside completely.

“My brother is stronger than the prison realm,” 

Her voice is strong, and certain.  Even with the small group looking at her apprehensively, (y/n’s) positive that there’s no prison on this earth stronger than Gojo Satoru.  Her faith in him as a sorcerer, and as her brother, went unmatched.  He would only be offended if she worried about him right now.  Using Geto Suguru was a filthy trick, however, and he- his body- would have to be dealt with accordingly.

But right now, there was a more pressing stressor she needed answers for.

“Now tell me where Ino is”  ___

When she arrived on the rooftop Nanami had directed her towards, her first thought was that she had the wrong one.  Her chest is heaving by the time she’s bursting through the access door, the plank of wood nearly flying off it’s hinges from her force.

She hesitates for a moment, seeing there wasn’t a fight of any sorts taking place.  Nanami had said there were two curse users, and at first survey, the roof is completely empty.

Save for the slumped over figure left crumpled on the ground, barely propping themselves up with one arm against a box vent.  She almost doesn’t catch him there, her instinct telling her it couldn’t possibly have been Ino himself.  No, it had to have been someone else-

But then her eyes catch the small but distinct shape of a black mask on the ground not far from him, and she’s darting forward with a screech of pure terror.

“Ino!?” 

His name rips from her throat so harshly a neighboring crow squawks and flies away from the startling noise.

It doesn’t take many steps to bring her towards his beaten form, but she’s sprinting the short distance anyways, dropping to her knees without any grace, scraping them up on the concrete upon impact, but the sting goes unnoticed.

She’s panting harder, the wind getting knocked out of her a second time when she properly takes in his face.  It’s so covered in blood she can’t even make out where it’s coming from.  As her hands slide under his jaw to lift his head, praying to any deity that will listen that it isn’t his head that’s injured, she realizes then that her eyes are filling with tears and blurring her vision.

“I- Ino,” And her voice is strained too, coming out in a choked whimper, not nearly loud enough for him to hear her if he’s unconscious.  “God, no no no-  fuck- fuck!” 

Her mumbles turn into shouts as she drops one hand from his face to pat against his chest.  She doesn’t want to be rough with him, but if he doesn’t give her some sign of life soon she was going to smack the back of her hand against his face to spur something out of him.

If she lost him now, like this, then every curse and curse user in this damn city was going to pay the gruesome, ultimate price.

He stirs with the slightest of movements, a small groan coming from his chest which she feels against her hand more than she actually hears.  A gasp of surprise comes out of her, before she’s pressing closer to him, her palm flat against his front, and her other hand secure in holding his head up towards her.

“You can hear me?” She mumbles with more hope than what feels right.

“Uh-huh” 

It’s pitifully quiet, but it’s a distinct answer, and it evokes a sob out of her so emotionally relieving she drops her head, barely hitting his shoulder as tears of every stage of grief pour out of her.  Fear.  Relief.  It all hits her at once.

Ino can barely register the fact that she’s sitting before him now, pressed as close as she could get with her sobs soaking into his shoulder.  But he musters all the strength he can to assure her he was still alive.

“(y/n),” Another pained mutter has her lifting her head, roughly wiping at her face with the back of her hand before leaning in close to hear him.  “The curse users- th-ey h-had-”

When he starts to cough up blood between his words, she hushes him, both hands gently held under his jaw again.  He hisses slightly from the touch, but doesn’t pull away from it.

She’s mumbling something, but his head is pounding too hard to make out what, and his vision is too blurry to try and read her lips.  With the smallest tip of his head, he’s leaning back into the box vent with a shaky exhale.

Even with his eyes closed, the faint blue glow penetrates his eyelids, and he’s trying to gather all the strength he can to lift his head and look at her again.  Although he has a sneaking suspicion of what she’s doing.

The blue light brightens, and he can just barely hear her faint mumbling, whispers sounding suspiciously like begs and pleas, before something warm and solid touches his forehead.

It takes him a minute, but eventually, he’s able to crack one eye open just enough to see what’s happening.

Her hands, still held against his jaw with trembling fingers, are glowing with cursed energy.  The warmth against his forehead was that of her own, pressed close and having her so much closer that the tip of her nose ghosts over his.  Her eyes are squeezed shut tightly, but there’s simply too many tears to be held back, and they fall down her face in steady streams, slipping into the corners of her mouth as she continues to slur through mumbles.

“Just this once… work just this once… never ask for anything again… never need anything more… concentrate… concentrate….” Ino can just barely make out the nonsensical string of pleas tumbling out of her lips, but it’s more than he understood before.  “...has to work… have to help him… think… think… relax…” 

Hearing the pain in her voice makes something in his chest lurch more than when an overpowered foot nearly cracked open his ribcage just moments ago- or was it hours? He longed to bring her some semblance of comfort, but he was too tired to move his arms, and when he tried to say something, his throat was too dry to make any sound.

The most he’s capable of, is the slight tilt in his head, pressing the crown of his head back against hers with the smallest amount of force.

It does the trick, (y/n’s) mumbling halting with a quiet gasp, her eyes fluttering open and staring wide at him, tracking any miniscule movement of his features.

He’s struggling even to keep one eye cracked open, the bruising surrounding it stinging that much more just from opening it, but he wants so badly to give her some comfort of his well-being.  Even if the next breath he takes is his last.

“Ino,” She whispers, her voice heavy with emotion.  “You’re gonna be alright, I’m- I’m gonna-” 

Before she can finish, there’s a short shift in his neck, barely shaking his head against hers.  She swallows thickly, trying to keep down the lump in her throat.

“I am, I’m gonna make it better, I’m- I’m-” 

“s’Okay,” He rasps out.  “Go, (y/n)” 

“No!” She’s louder than she means to be, and she apologizes by pushing a loose strand of his hair out of the sticky blood on his forehead, soothingly pushing her fingers through the length of his hair to keep it from irritating his face again.  She repeats the motion a few more times anxiously, and her head begins to shake against his.  “No- no.  I’m not leaving, I’m not going anywhere” 

He could almost laugh, recalling being in opposite positions almost a year ago.  If he had the strength, he’d remind her that she’d begged the same thing of him once, ordering him to leave as if she had any sort of authority over him.

Now Ino feared she had too much authority.  He couldn’t bear to have her here if the beat of his heart kept steadily declining.

A faint sound that almost resembled a chuckle is pushed past his lips in a short breath, warm and soft as the air hits her chin.

(y/n’s) brows furrow with her confusion as she continues to push her fingers through the length of his hair.  From the top of his head to the ends at the nape of his neck, she repeats it over and over, almost obsessively.  She distantly recalls Satoru doing the same for her when she was younger and would have panic attacks, and it was the first thing that would calm her down.  Pathetically, she hopes it’s healing power also works for physical wounds.

“s’Okay, (y/n),” Ino repeats himself, his head suddenly feeling too heavy to hold up on his own.  He barely feels his nose pressing against hers before a gentle pair of hands pull him forward, guiding him to lean against something solid, and soft.  His eyes were shut again as he gave into the white hot pain from every second he tried to keep them open.

Her shoulder, she’s cradling his head against his shoulder, it registers in the back of his mind as he recognizes the scent of her perfume in the fabric he was laying against, and ruining with his blood.

“m’Sorry ‘bout breaking th’ promise” He slurs into the material.

“Don’t say that,” (y/n) scolds, but her voice is weak, and she sounds far more afraid than she does angry.  “Please- please don’t say that,” She repeats in an even quieter, shakier voice.

With one hand against the nape of his neck, holding him solidly against her as his body hunches forward uncomfortably, her other hand begins to move in his hair again.

“We had a deal, didn’t we?” Her words were whispered in his ear, so she was certain he couldn’t miss a single thing.  “We promised, didn’t we?” She asked again.  “And I- I made good on my promise, didn’t I? Didn’t I do everything you asked?” Her tears are soaking into his hair now, but she doesn’t feel an ounce of shame as she begs him to find the strength to snap out of it and wake up properly.  “I let- I let myself let you in, I really, really did,” 

Her eyes fall shut in a pitiful attempt at willing her tears to stop.  She doesn’t want to burden him with her fear of losing him, but the emotions crashing over her were too strong for her to take on alone.  Unbeknownst to her, her hands were surrounded by her cursed energy again as they kept him close.

“And now- now you’re too close to me, Ino.  And I can’t- I- I can’t-” She chokes on the words, burying her face into the crook of his neck, earning a small grunt of pained acknowledgement when her nose brushes a particularly nasty bruise.  “I can’t lose you, you said I wouldn’t lose you” 

The hand at his nape grabs the material of the back of his uniform, fisting it so tight her knuckles trembled and ached.

The relief suddenly washing over Ino’s body was so strong that all of his muscles were relaxing at once, and he felt boneless in her hold.

(y/n) was quick to snap her eyes open and pull herself away from him, shaky, fast hands racing to check his pulse as her worst nightmare played before her eyes.

But he wasn’t lifeless in her arms, and if anything, he was relaxed.  His pulse was a steady beat against the pads of her fingers, and he even found enough strength to raise his hand to her cheek.  She watched with wide, shocked eyes as he barely grazed his fingers across her jaw before he was passing out in her arms.

___

When he comes to, his eyes blink a few times to prepare himself for light, but to his surprise, he’s met with darkness.  It still takes a few rough squeezes of his eyelids before Ino’s able to properly open his eyes all the way, and the darkness he was greeted with was properly laid before him as the night sky.

He was outside?

“What the-?” The mutter comes from under his breath, but before he could make sense of his surroundings, someone was scrambling to his side, his name falling from their recognizable, pretty voice like a mantra.

And (y/n’s) voice in that moment was heavenly to his ears.  He wasn’t sure how long he was out, and his mind was foggy when he tried to recall when he’d seen her last, but he had a sinking feeling like it had been a long time, and all he knew now was that he felt pure relief when her face came into view beside him.  Then shortly after, a small hand slipped into his own, squeezing firmly, but not too tight.

“(y/n),” His throat burns hot when he speaks, but he tries to ignore it as he gives her a weak smile.  Everything aches, but he’d try his best to keep his pain hidden.  “How long was I out?” 

“About a day” She murmurs back, softer than he thinks he’s ever heard her speak.  He thinks she’s hiding something, but he doesn’t press for it right away.  He’d need to get his bearings first.

He tries to look around, hoping for something of significance to give him an idea of where he was, but all that surrounds them is a few plots of grass and some shoddy tents pitched up.  There’s a fire burning a few feet behind where she kneels beside him, and his brows furrowed slightly.  What the hell was going on?

“And where are we?” 

Her free hand reaches for his face, and he holds his breath when the tips of her fingers gently push a piece of hair away from a line of stitches just above his previous scar.  There’s a small frown on her face.

“Just outside Yamanashi,” She answers, then quickly adds, “At least I think.  It’s hard to tell without a proper map” 

Ino’s eyes widen so much they almost bulge out of his head, and (y/n’s) quick to react to his shock.

“Don’t freak out,” She murmurs, squeezing his hand gently as she leaned over closer to him.  “You still need to rest, you have a lot of healing to-” 

“(y/n),” He interrupts her, and surprisingly she lets him.  She sits before him patiently waiting for the question she’d been dreading for an entire day.  “What happened in Shibuya?” 

She sits beside him for a long time as she explains the entire incident in grave detail.  Not a single stone left unturned, Ino sits in silence for almost a full hour as she feeds it to him like it was her drafted report on the assignment.

She explains that after she fled Shibuya with his unconscious body, they quickly ran into Megumi Yuuji, and the new ally they’d made out of one of the Cursed Wombs’.  Yuuji was quick to carry Ino on his back as they tried to cover as much ground as possible.  With Shibuya becoming a modern-day wasteland, and Kenjaku’s next move unsure, their only goal was to move.  

And that’s what brought them here, to the middle of nowhere where they could figure out what their next move was.  With only a few survival supplies and limited rations of food and water, it hadn’t been an easy day and a half.

When she’s finished, she remains silent for as long as he needs.  Processing it all- Nanami, Satoru, the first year Nobara, all of Shibuya- would surely take him some time.  (y/n) gets up and pokes at the fire for a few minutes while Ino sits in shock as he repeats it all in his head.  When she comes back over to him, he’s pushed himself to sit up on top of the nylon blanket against the grass.

“You should really lie down and-” 

“I’m alright” He mumbles over her concern, and she simply sits beside him on the wrinkly plastic disguised as a blanket.  She doesn’t push him about it again.

Not knowing what to say, she doesn’t say anything.  Just sits beside him to keep him company while he processes it all.  Truthfully, she’d had little time to really let it all settle in.  With the running and worrying over the length of his unconscious state, there was little time left to think about the aftermath of the whole incident.  She wondered how the others were taking it, if they’d stopped and let themselves think for longer than a minute.  They’d all resigned to their makeshift tents for the night, and she didn’t have it in her to play caretaker and check on them at the moment.  That was always the role Satoru took on.  But tomorrow she’d sit down with them and check in.

“You found me,” 

Ino speaks after a long silence, and (y/n) glances over at him for a brief moment, before returning to stare at the ground.

“After those curse users, after Toji,” He continues, piecing together the vague images in his memory to better understand what happened.  “You found me after that” 

He’s not asking, he’s talking through what he remembers, but (y/n) nods in confirmation.

“Nanami told me where you were,” She says softly.  “I came as fast as I could, but… it wasn’t fast enough” The last part comes out under her breath, full of regret and guilt.

“Seems like you were just in time to me,” Ino says, turning to look at her.  She refuses to meet his gaze, too ashamed by her delayed arrival.  “For a minute there I didn’t think I’d see you again.  Thought I was a goner.  You’d be adding my name to the…” He trails off, not quite wanting to address the long list of lives lost in Shibuya.

And he notices she tenses up, one of her hands fisting a handful of grass, ripping a few strands straight from the dirt with her tight grip.  Ino frowns, and shuffles over to sit closer to her.  Until they’re nearly shoulder to shoulder.  He groans as he pulls his legs up, resting his arms over his knees to get more comfortable.  Everything feels stiff, but he tries to push past it.

“You figured out the Reverse Cursed Technique, hm?” He asks, trying to change the subject.  He gives her a small smile at the accomplishment, but she’s still not looking at him.  “That’s pretty huge.  You’re surely a functioning Grade One sorcerer now” 

That’s when she finally turns her head to meet his gaze, finding nothing but fondness in his eyes as he smiles at her.  He’s proud of her, she realizes, and she can’t believe that now of all times he’s trying to comfort her.  Takuma Ino was too good for this world.  And he was certainly too good for her.

“I don’t care” She mumbles, shaking her head back and forth as her eyes flicker over the healing cuts and bruises on his face.  The few stitches he needed looked a bit gnarly as they’d been done in a rush from shaky hands.  A frown tugs on her lips the longer she takes in his injuries.

“You should,” He tells her.  “You worked for a long time for it.  And you’ve earned it,” 

She’s quiet for a moment as she takes in the statement.  The injuries she’d sustained had healed by now, but her chest still hurt somehow.

Slowly, more and more of his memory comes back to him.  He can remember the way she’d sobbed, pained wails that came from so deep within her he could hear it now in his memory.  They could’ve easily been mistaken as the screams of a woman tortured, the way she’d cried out his name.  He thinks he can recall her crying the entire time she tended to him.

“I’m sorry I scared you” He tells her suddenly, and her eyes widen in the slightest at the apology.

“Scared me,” She repeats in a small mumble, lips barely moving.  “That doesn’t even begin to explain what you put me through,” 

He frowns with his guilt, and he wants to remind her that he’d told her to leave.  Although if she had, he might not have woken up again.

“You…” She trails off as she thinks twice about what she’s going to say.  “You have no idea what you put me through,” She admits in a smaller voice.  

Her eyes flicker between his as she watches him process the confession, before she continues.

“I don’t know what I… I don’t know how I did it, honestly.  I’m not sure I could do it again,” She explains.  “I just remember feeling so… hurt doesn’t even begin to explain it.  I was terrified, Ino.  I thought you were…” She shakes her head, a lump forming in her throat at the mere suggestion of what could have happened to him.  “I was so scared” She mumbles weakly, her brows drawing together.

Hesitantly, Ino lowered his hand until it rested over hers.  She loosened her grip on the grass, relaxing just the slightest amount from his touch.  Her heart was still racing as she recalled the way he’d barely been able to move, or how he’d tried to apologize for breaking his promise to her.  It was like there was an invisible, but iron grip on her throat, squeezing all of the air out of her lungs as she looked at him now.

“You’re my hero now, you know,” He murmurs, tilting his head a bit as a tiny smile stretches over his lips.  “You saved my life” 

Her hand twitches under his, and it shakes as she releases the grass in order to turn it over, slotting her fingers between his.  She squeezes, hard, making sure that he would be enough to anchor her to reality.

“You saved mine, too” She whispers back, the burn in her throat evident in the strain in her voice.  Against her will, her eyes gloss over with tears.

He gives her a sad smile, and squeezes her hand back.

“Don’t cry,” He pleads quietly, his body angling towards her as he reaches his free hand out to her face, palm hovering just over her cheek as he wipes away her single tear with the rough pad of his thumb.  “Please,” He added softly as her eyes bore into his like she was trying to penetrate his skull and read his thoughts.  “Don’t think I can handle hearin’ you cry anymore” He admits.  

(y/n) let’s out a watery and humorless little chuckle, another tear falling to her cheek that he’s just as quick to dry away.  She leans into the hovering warmth of his hand, pressing her cheek against it with only the thought of being comforted by him on her mind.  Ino’s quick to spread his fingers across her cheek and jaw, unconsciously pulling her closer as he did.

“You remember that?” She mumbles, and he nods back at her.

“Don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it,” He tells her.  “You scared me too, y’know” 

Her brows furrow at him.

“I did?” 

Ino nods.

“I didn’t like… being separated,” He admits slowly.  “I know you were fine, hell, you were better off than I was, but… not knowing where you were or if you were safe was…” He clenches his draw, and (y/n) nods at him in understanding.

“I would’ve stayed,” She murmurs.  “If you’d asked me to stay, I would’ve stayed” 

Ino’s not sure if his heart was going to burst in his chest or sink to his gut.  All he wants right now is to wrap her up in his arms as tight as he can and never let her out of his sight again.

“I know,” He whispers back, making her frown.  “But I couldn’t do that.  It wouldn’t have been right.  Your team needed you,” 

Another tear makes it’s way down her cheek, but it doesn’t get far before he’s brushing it away like the others.

“I didn’t want to do anything to stand in the way of your promotion,” He says, and she frowns back at him.  “It wouldn’t have been fair-” 

“That doesn’t matter to me, not right now- maybe not at all,” She cuts him off before he could explain himself, and he looks shocked.  Rightfully so, since meeting her he’s known that becoming a Grade One was the only thing that mattered to her.  His lips part and his brows furrow, but he doesn’t know what to say, so she explains herself first.  “Ino, I really thought I was going to lose you,” She tells him with a tight squeeze of his hand.  “That promotion has been the farthest thing from my mind.  What would it have mattered?” She shakes her head as she watches him, sniffling just a little before speaking again.  “It would have meant nothing, if you weren’t there with me, too,” 

Ino softened then, his thumb stalling from it’s gentle tracing of her cheekbone as he took in the sincerity of her words.

A year ago, she might’ve told him to eat shit if he’d something of the same sort to her.  Six months ago she would’ve laughed it off and deflected like it was some kind of joke.  Right now, he thinks his heart was going to fall right out of his chest and into her awaiting hands.

(y/n) shuffles anxiously the longer he sits in silence.

“Ino, say something” She mumbles, hoping he wouldn’t make her beg for some sort of reaction.

He chuckles, his thumb moving over her cheekbone once, then twice, before giving into temptation and curling his fingers around the back of her neck to pull her in closer.

Her eyes are shut before his lips slot themselves over hers, but despite leaning into the kiss there’s a small squeak of surprise that dies in the back of her throat when their lips touch.  She kisses him back with as much fervor as she can while still being mindful of his injuries.  She only hopes that he can feel the outpour of emotions with every kiss, the soft sensation of each one leaving a tingle on her lips.  

Her hands reach out to lay at the base of his neck, her touch nearly featherlight with how gentle she tries to treat him.  Ino’s less careful, pulling her closer until she finally gives in to deepening their kiss, paying no mind to the dull ache in his jaw.  It was easy to forget when her perfect soft lips fit against his like they were made to be kissed by him.

After pulling away for a breath of air, he places one more kiss on her lips, lingering for as long as he could before finally parting from her.  It takes her a minute to open her eyes, still reeling from the sudden affection.

With her heart in the clouds and her mind in a lovesick haze, she was still lost in the heavy feelings that were the way she felt about him.  Ino chuckles when his eyes open only to find her lost in a daze, sweetly cupping her face in both hands and keeping her as close to him as he could.

“Sorry,” He mumbles, lips ghosting over hers, sending a shiver down her spine.  She finally looks up at him, catching her lip between her teeth to keep herself from grinning too hard.  “I just wanted to do that for so long.  Couldn’t wait anymore” 

A breathless little laugh falls from her, her hands sliding around the nape of his neck so her fingers could mindlessly play with the soft locks of hair that fell there.  Her cheeks were undeniably warm, and Ino could feel them when she pushed closer to brush her nose against his sweetly.

“Wanted you to do that, too” She murmurs back, and the smile Ino gives her is bittersweet.

He sighs softly as he pulls her in gently, just enough to rest his forehead against hers.

“I’m sorry,” He murmurs, the weight of the apology hanging thick in the air.  

She doesn’t want to talk anymore about what’s happened, doesn’t really want to think about it either.  Going through it had been rough enough already, processing it was going to be a bitch.  She has to shut her eyes to hide the emotion, or at least, keep herself from crying again.

“I’m so sorry,” Ino repeats.  “And I’m sorry I was out for so long” 

“That’s nothing you should apologize over,” (y/n) chided through a breath.  “I’m just relieved you’re alright, that’s all that matters to me right now, okay?” 

He tilts his head away from hers, just enough to look back at her.  He frowns when her eyes are squeezed shut, thumbing gently at the top of her cheekbones to pry her into looking at him again.  It takes her a minute before opening teary eyes.  Even with her packing up the last day and a half into a box and forcing it into the darkest corner of her mind, she couldn’t hide all of it from Ino.  Not when he stared at her as if he could see straight through to the soul.

It’s a blurry memory, but he can vaguely recall the way she’d cried while holding him.  Clearer than the image is the way her voice cracked and whined in his ear, I can’t lose you, you said I wouldn’t lose you.  He’d held his promise this long, and Ino very much intends to stick to it.

He plants his lips at the crown of her head, and the comforting affection surprises her a bit, but she just as quickly falls into him.  Her arms loop around his neck and her fingers dig into his shoulders, anchoring herself to him as if he alone would keep her in this moment, and away from that dark corner.

“Still,” He insists quietly.  “I should’ve been there for you,” 

(y/n’s) not sure she’s ever felt love swell in her chest the way she does now.  It washes over her in a heavy wave, filling her with relief, and warmth, but most importantly hope.  For the first time, she doesn’t fear it, or discard it as a pointless venture.

Things were different now, she decided, her eyes moving between his and the injuries still littered across his face.  They would heal just fine, but they were still a gnarly sight to look at now.  It made the warm relief in her chest begin to burn.  So things were different now because they had to be.  Things were different now because she had something she was going to fight for.  

Love wasn’t pointless.  Love was what was going to push her through whatever horror was next in line.

“Cause we’re partners” Ino finished, his brows twitching ever so slightly as he watched something unknown flash in her eyes.  They light up for a moment, before she’s nodding back at him, staring at him with the utmost sincerity.

A small “yeah,” is whispered between shaky nods, and her grip on his shoulders tightens just enough for Ino to notice.  His lips tilt upwards.

She’s still quiet when she speaks, but it’s not due to the lump in her throat.  It’s from true, genuine love pouring out of her so openly that her voice is practically snatched from her.  She squeezes his shoulders once more.

“Partners” ___

a/n: well that was my 23k word ino fic that i had to split up bc it was too damn big. laugh it up how in love with him after thirty seconds of screentime

[churino]

Design for liege maximo and g2 cybertronian troopers

they're the product of a failed experiment on ancient cybertron to raise soldiers inside a pocket dimension where every factor could be controlled from the outside. They escaped their dimension but their tethering to our world is tenuous at best

The functionist council didn't hold power over cybertron exclusively via the military, they also controlled the super computer vector sigma that monitored and regulated cybertron's systems, said to be able to see the future , explaining the transformer's humanoid shape.

The transformers were already creatures built rather than born but the government wanted more control over what kind of people made up their citizenship. And used vector sigma to simulate another world, they called it their g2 universe, later it would become the dead universe and later still. A fire dimension

Liege maximo was the leader of quintessa in this world, and in that reality, Cybertron developed into a galaxy spanning empire until it grew so big it began to rub against the walls of the simulation, as the leader if a "lesser" colony world, liege maximo was sent out to inspect the anomaly alongside his two liege centuro soldiers and as they pushed out into the walls of his universe they began to physically emerge out of vector sigma.

In panic the technicians shut down the simulation as liege maximo emerged which caused him and his soldiers to be torn between dimensions, becoming incorporeal in places like a ghost

The g2 experiment was deemed a failure and not wanting to waste a potential resource liege maximo was assigned a job based on his original alt mode, a military commander, but he grew bitter at the destruction of his home,

frustrated by the small size of cybertron's dominion in this reality. He secretly supported the revolution brewing under prima's leadership in the hopes of fetching power once the current society collapsed so he could turn cybertron into a galactic dreadnaught and conquer our world's version of quintessa, for sentimentaliy's sake and then regrow the cybertronian empire of his world

but the other leaders of the revolution didn't know that, and accepted him among their ranks like they would do to any other supporter for their cause, but liege maximo's true intentions would come to light upon the successful dismantling of the functionist council. And those loyal to him and his pupil megatronus became the first decepticons while those loyal to prima and her mentor alpha trion became the first autobots

[captainremmington-13]

A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova. I also do not condone the beliefs or actions of Coriolanus or Bellova.

SUMMARY: Coriolanus hands Bellova over to Dr. Gaul, knowing that she is his only chance to regain control of her, and subsequently, his future.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: THIS IS A DARK CHAPTER. It contains violence, torture, verbal/physical abuse, mention of suicide, Coriolanus and Dr Gaul being evil, swearing

A/n: I’m s o sorry this took FOREVER to write, it took me a long time to figure out what direction I wanted to take the plot☹️

Coriolanus shivered, pulling his expensive trench coat tighter around his body. Dr. Gaul’s lab was always cold, and she refused to turn up the temperature, as she claimed it would compromise the well-being of many of her beloved mutts.

The doctor, his boss and mentor, walked into the small room, standing at his side. She looked down at the unconscious Capitol heiress in the middle of the room, and smiled brightly. 

“I daresay this is the prettiest lab rat I’ve ever worked on.”

Coriolanus nodded wordlessly. He had always had a hard time understanding how Dr. Gaul was able to treat humans like dolls without feeling remorse. Now, he was finally starting to get it.

Bellova laid on a metal table, dead to the world. She was completely nude, which would’ve flustered a younger, weaker Coriolanus. But in the present situation, he was much more concerned with what Dr. Gaul had in store for her. 

There were thick leather straps secured around Bellova’s ankles and wrists, preventing her from leaping off the table and trying to escape. Even if she somehow undid them, there were Peacekeepers right outside the laboratory door that would intercept her in a heartbeat.  

Dr. Gaul set her case of equipment on the stand next to the table. She opened it up swiftly, revealing a plethora of tools. There were several syringes with odd-colored liquids inside, sharp instruments that gleamed menacingly in the brilliant white light of the room, and a variety of unidentifiable objects (which Coriolanus assumed she’d invented herself). 

“What are you planning to do?” Coriolanus asked. 

Dr. Gaul gave him her signature crooked grin. “Pull up a chair, Mister Snow.”

Coriolanus did as he was told, moving a chair from the corner of the room to the side of the table. Once he sat down, Dr. Gaul spoke again.

“I am going to run a scan of her brain while she’s still unconscious. See what went wrong with the serum I gave you. Then, I will determine what the next course of action should be.”

“What do you suspect happened that reversed the serum’s effects?”

“Her sheer willpower,” the doctor replied. “Miss Reginelle has always been extraordinarily strong-willed, it is not completely surprising that her mind was able to fight against them and win.”

“Is there something that triggered it specifically?” 

Dr. Gaul pursed her lips. “I don’t have a clue. But perhaps with a little…persuasion, we can get her to tell us. That way, we can ensure that the same mistake is not made again.”

.

.

.

After a thorough physical inspection was conducted, Dr. Gaul determined it was time for Bellova to wake.

As Dr. Gaul pushed the needle that housed the serum that would bring her back to consciousness into her arm, Coriolanus found himself holding his breath. He paced back and forth, wringing his hands anxiously. He wasn’t sure why he was so afraid. She was completely helpless, strapped down and trapped in the laboratory, and yet she still seemed to pose a threat.

After a few moments of silence, Coriolanus saw Bellova’s eyes open slowly. The sharp gaze in her pupils immediately told him she was still her true self. That wouldn’t last for long, thankfully. 

Bellova squirmed, tugging at the leather straps. She looked frightened, even more so than when Coriolanus had wrapped his hands around her neck.

“Where am I?” she croaked.

Dr. Gaul cackled quietly, the harsh noise echoing slightly throughout the room. “Oh, little bunny, you’re in my lab. You’ve been here so many times, you must recognize it.” The condescending lilt in her voice made Bellova’s pale face flush pink. “Or perhaps your mind is too frazzled to think properly.”

“I can think just fine, thank you,” Bellova hissed. “And don’t call me bunny. Now untie me, or I’ll make you wish you were never born, you sick, decrepit bitch.”

Coriolanus stifled a laugh. The fact that Bellova still possessed the courage to hurl insults while completely vulnerable was truly astounding.

Dr. Gaul just smiled wider. “Oh, but what’s the fun in letting you get away? Mister Snow and I are going to help you, make you a much better version of yourself. Isn’t that what you want?”

“No-“

“Too fucking bad,” Coriolanus interrupted her, casting her a cruel smile. “You don’t have a choice in the matter.”

Bellova’s body tensed as she tugged on her restraints, clearly wishing she could hit him. This only amused Coriolanus further.

Dr. Gaul leaned down, her lips inches away from Bellova’s right ear. “If you don’t stop struggling, I’m going to slit your pretty little throat and cut up your flesh to feed to my babies.”

Bellova shuddered, and squeezed her eyes shut. She was clearly trying her hardest not to cry. 

“I don’t care if you kill me,” she whispered. “A brutal death is better than a lifetime of domestication.”

Dr. Gaul looked at Coriolanus. The gleam in her eye told him that she had an idea. 

And knowing her, it was bound to be a gruesome one.

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

As soon as Coriolanus stepped out of the elevator and onto the floor Dr. Gaul’s lab was located on, he was able to hear the screams. 

He winced, and gripped the strap of his satchel tighter as he strode down the hallway. He’d started to get used to the ear-splitting sounds, but that didn’t make them any more pleasant.

When he entered the laboratory, he hung his bag on a hook on the wall and headed towards the isolated experiment rooms. Dr. Gaul had set aside most of her other projects and left them to her assistants and the other Gamemakers. 

She was hellbent on breaking Bellova past repair. 

“How is it coming along this morning, Dr. Gaul?” Coriolanus asked as he swept into Bellova’s room cell. His mentor looked up from her work, and gave him a knowing grin. 

“Our little bunny seems to be just as stubborn as the first day we began playing with her.” 

He sighed, walking over to where Bellova laid. She looked awful. Her hair was matted, the whites of her eyes were bloodshot, and she was clearly malnourished. She was shaking, undoubtedly from pain and exhaustion.

After all, Dr. Gaul had been literally poking and prodding at her for almost four days straight. 

“When are you going to just give in?” Coriolanus asked, his tone dripping with venom.

“Fuck you,” she spat, crying out a moment after. Dr. Gaul had pressed a device that delivered an electric shock throughout her body to her neck, making her convulse and twitch. 

“Mind your manners, little girl,” she snarled. “Or I’ll increase the pain tenfold.” 

Bellova closed her eyes again, as if trying to disassociate to escape her reality. 

Dr. Gaul walked around the table to stand at Coriolanus’s side. 

“She’s not going to give in,” she murmured. “She keeps saying that she’d much rather die. There’s a high risk she’ll try to commit suicide. Her death would cause commotion within the Capitol’s elite, and I can’t have such disorder disrupting the peace we’ve worked so hard to instill.”

Coriolanus exhaled sharply. “So what do we do? Pretend she’s a rebel and turn her into an Avox?”

Dr. Gaul shook her head. “That would make you look extremely suspicious. You would also be seen as a threat to the Capitol. No, the only option we have is to create a new version of the serum. One that will take a stronger hold on her brain and make her truly, completely compliant. And you will never have to worry about any…unsavory behavior from her again.”

Coriolanus nodded. “I think it may be wise to keep a syringe with me at all times. That way, if something does occur, I can quickly take back control.”

The doctor gave him an approving pat on the shoulder. 

“You’re thinking more and more like a true Gamemaker every day, Mister Snow. Perhaps I’ll meet with the others soon and discuss having you join us officially.” 

Coriolanus smiled to himself, glancing once more at Bellova’s defeated form. 

Snow lands on top indeed.

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

A week later, Dr. Gaul called the Snow penthouse, requesting for Coriolanus to head to the Citadel immediately. It was nearly midnight, so the doctor had to call almost three times before a groggy Tigris answered.

As he pulled open the laboratory doors, his heart pounded annoyingly fast. What if something had gone horribly wrong? What if Bellova had finally succumb to the torture, and her death would be the end of his climb to glory?

“Come in quickly, Mister Snow,” Dr. Gauls voice sounded. Coriolanus did what he was told, hurrying to Bellova’s room, trying to hide the panic that was threatening to overwhelm him.

When he threw open the door, he stopped dead in his tracks. 

Bellova no longer looked like a corpse. In Coriolanus’s opinion, she looked absolutely perfect.

Her hair has been washed and brushed, ridding it if the mats and tangles it had acquired in the past several days. Someone had clearly styled it, as her naturally straight hair now fell in mesmerizing curls across her back and shoulders. A makeup artist had covered her bruises and various scars, giving her skin a glass-like finish. Her body was covered with a light pink dress adorned with lace and cutesy bows, which contrasted her original personality so much that it was comical. A pair of white socks covered her feet, which matched perfectly with the dainty heels she wore.  

Coriolanus thought back to when Tigris was a young girl, and played with porcelain dolls. They had been a gift from her mother, and she treasured them more than anything. That is, until they were lost during the war. Coriolanus vividly remembered the single picture Tigris still had of her dolls, which she had kept on the wall of her room for years. Their perfect but lifeless figures were nice to stare at, but lacked character and depth.

It was almost eerie how much Bellova resembled them.

“What did you do to her?” Coriolanus blurted out, cringing internally at how unprofessional it had sounded.

Dr. Gaul smiled proudly. “I fixed her, of course. She put up quite a fight, though. Wouldn’t stop screaming and kicking until I had sedated her. Then, I did some minor brain surgery to remove any trace of the old serum before injecting the new one. This one should be completely devoid of flaws.”

He glanced at Bellova, who was still out cold on the experiment table. “So…has she lost her memory again?” 

The doctor sighed. “I hope so. But there is no true way to tell until she is awake.”

Coriolanus felt his patience start to deteriorate at an alarming rate, and grit his teeth to prevent himself from loosing his temper. “Please wake her up now, then.”

Dr. Gaul raised an eyebrow, and he could tell that she was inquisitive of his desperate tone. He didn’t understand why. Didn’t she know how important this was to him? If Bellova wasn’t truly fixed, he would have to spend even more of his time and energy protecting his reputation against the damming information stored somewhere in her mind.

But if Dr. Gaul was truly confused about his urgency, she didn’t vocalize it. Instead, she grabbed a terrifying-looking device that somewhat resembled a gun and pressed it to Bellova’s temple.

As soon as she pressed a red button, the device sent a shock through the unconscious girl’s body, causing her to jolt awake. Her grey pupils darted around fearfully, and she let out a pitiful whine of distress. 

Both the mentor and the apprentice held their breaths, anxiously anticipating Bellova’s first words.

Bellova’s lips, which has been painted over with a shiny cosmetic gloss, trembled ever-so slightly. She made eye contact with Coriolanus, and he swore he could feel his heart leap into his throat. Not in the romantic sense, of course. It was simply the thrill of being in control. 

“Coryo,” Bellova whispered, reaching out to him.

Coriolanus slowly walked towards her, taking one of her hands cautiously. Despite her innocent appearance, he didn’t trust her just her. 

After all, she’d tried to kill him mere days ago.

Bellova’s eyes swarmed with large tears, gripping his hand tightly. “I’m so confused, w-what’s going on? Why am I not at home? Am I sick?”

Coriolanus barely held back a groan of frustration. He’d have to lie on the spot, again. It was hard enough the first time, and he would have to alter the facts now that the initial lie was no longer completely relevant.

But before he could start weaving the web of deceit around Bellova’s fragile mind, Dr. Gaul spoke up.

“Silly girl, don’t be worried. You’re just having your routine checkup.”

Bellova’s brows furrowed. “Checkup?”

“Yes, my dear. I have to poke around your brain every once and awhile to make sure you’re alright.”

“Oh,” she replied simply. She turned to Coriolanus once more, her expression one of utter helplessness. “But…why am I so…Coryo, I don’t understand. I don’t understand myself, or anything or…”

Coriolanus met Dr. Gaul’s piercing gaze. Her expression was blank, but it told him everything she needed to know.

He was so close to winning the game he’d played with Bellova since they were children that he could practically taste it.

All it would take to secure his eternal victory was a handful of well-chosen words.

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊❆ ‧

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy, @effectwalker, @vxnilla-hxrddrugs, @mystargirl-interlude, @have-a-nice-day-k, @that-daughter-of-hephaestus

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments! Again, I deeply apologize for the long wait for this chapter, I promise the next installment will come out much faster🖤

Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

[cozyreadings-ao3]

- I didn’t expect my last Lynnmanda post to get that much attention, so I thought I would share a small, quick, little rough drabble from my upcoming Lynnmanda fic!! :)

(Please, having Saw mutuals would be so fun- :,) Mdni tho plz)

In a moment of impulsive panic, two people had ended up shot at the hands of Amanda. Two hot, loud, ringing pops she could never take back. Miraculously alive, Lynn cried out, clutching her bloody, oozing side, falling down against the hard, cold cement wall. Heavy, labored breaths escaped the agonized woman’s lips as she desperately tried to apply pressure to the freshly opened wound.

Although Jeff — the crazed woman’s other victim — wasn’t as fortunate. The man’s motionless body was just a few feet away, in a pool of his own dark, spreading blood; the liquid seeping into the concrete’s cracks and crevices. The crude crater in his chest sputtered with the gruesome ichor.

 

Panicking with the still smoking gun in trembling hands, Amanda took in shaky, gasping breaths. The girl’s heavy heart painfully pounded against her chest. Scared eyes darted around her, scanning the spattered floor and sprayed wall. Lynn had been impulsively shot by the brunette’s own irrational actions; however, Jeff? He was just an unfortunate casualty, gunned down out of ‘self defense,’ as Amanda had been startled by the man’s sudden, violent entrance. The shot was fired before her brain could even comprehend the gravity of this situation.

 

Turning to her sickly, bedridden mentor, the jumble-headed woman looked back to John. Tears welled in her eyes, the emerald color seeming faded, with her pupils tightly constricted. “I-I panicked…” The beading tears finally spilled over, streaming down the brunette’s cheeks; her black eyeliner following the flow in a dark smudge.

- This was a little take on my own Saw 3 ending, it’s the beginning of a Fix-It fic I’m working on! :) Chapter 1 may take a while before it’s actually uploaded, but I’m excited for when it will finally be up!! ^^ Stay tuned, and thank you for the support!! 💖

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

A Page, Turning

There’s another me on the page, another me in the mirror.

This is part 15… of 20. Your hand is frozen, afraid to see what lies on the other side.

(I have a goal to finish this saga in late 2023 or early 2024 so wish me luck on powering through the last few installments 😅)

The Tale of the Cursed Raven:

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 I Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 I Part 13 I Part 14 

“Do you know what drives a story forward?”

He asked the question without looking up from her manuscript. His tone was flat, but edged with sternness as he cut a line of red ink through a sentence. The color fuzzily bled into the parchment paper.

“No. I don’t,” she replied. Truthfully, innocently.

Her mentor slashed through another section, indicating off the offending areas in telltale red. Each strike of the quill made her flinch, as though those strikes were cutting through her instead of through her work.

“Time?” she offered, her guess echoing in the dark room.

He set his papers down and scoffed. The full extent of his gaze settled on his pupil. Discomfort gnawed at her.

His eyes were empty ones. They did not belong to a man, but what remained of one. Just a husk being blown around in the breeze.

“It’s the characters.”

“Characters…?”

“The people we write about.” He slapped the back of his hand against the marked-up manuscript. “A rock won’t cast itself into a lake, it needs someone to throw it. An adventure does not begin if the hero refuses to answer the call. And what good is a rich world and lore without beings to bask in it?”

A light bulb went off in her head.

“Oooh. So characters… make things happen!!”

“Not just that. It is through the characters that a story is shaped. The outcome, the ending… it is the result of all the characters, their choices, and their bonds and connections with one another.”

“Everything is connected?”

“Yes.”

In his circle of candlelight, his empty eyes seemed to soften the slightest bit. He slumped forward in his seat, pressing his forehead against a palm. When he looked down, written words were a blur.

“… I realize that now,” he murmured. A soft groan rushed through his teeth.

“Teacher?” She placed a tentative hand on his arm—the arm still gripping his quill. The raven could feel the muscles under his skin stiffen at the touch.

He pulled away. This time, he did not make eye contact as he spoke. The flickering flame of a candle was his companion, his solace.

“Readers have their reasons for seeking stories. They want to relate to someone, they want to meet new faces, they want to cry and to celebrate with them, they want to be loved. They want to escape.

“Stories make us feel things, child. And just as the characters impact their stories, so, too, do those stories change the world.”

He slammed both hands down on his writing desk.

The candle wobbled, and papers flew into the air. They slowly drifted down, big bales of white against and the shadows they projected along the walls. White feathers and black feathers in a gentle rain.

“The real world. It puts hope into people’s hearts, and it can tear them down just as easily. It’s your role as storyteller to bring the feelings put on the page to life.“

“Feelings…”

I don’t even fully understand my own yet, she wanted to protest. But the words and the composition of them eluded her.

The raven’s mouth remained sealed shut.

“There’s no soul to your characters. Rewrite it,” he commanded gruffly, jerking his chin to the papers scattered at her feet, “and this time, make it something worth reading.”

The gemstone set in her magical quill has not fully cleared yet. Once a clear, deep navy, it now has tendrils of black threaded through it. Plumes of smoke floating up sweetly into the night.

Raven closes her fingers around the writing implement. A book is on her lap, open to a fresh double spread.

Doubts louder than the screeching baby robin swirl in her head.

You’ve never gotten a grip on your unique magic. What happened all those other times you tried to tame it? You failed. Even when you try to cheat and use tools to help channel the magic, you fail.

High quality parchment, enchanted inks, quills made from the feathers of rare birds… No matter what you use, it never works.

The problem isn’t the magic or the conduits, it’s you.

Your own weakness.

Each nasty thought is a little black bird, taking root and roosting where it shouldn’t. The doubts collect into a familiar feeling, a dark cloud suspended above her heart. A group of them, a swarm.

An unkindness of ravens.

She frowns, pressing the nib of her quill into the corner of her first page. It leaves an imprint, a dent. Proof of her existence.

I know I’m weak.

Her confession causes the darkness to cave in, crashing upon her in a thunderous roar. What is left is the quiet that comes after a storm has settled, and a soft, resolute realization.

I was never strong to begin with, but… I can still give others strength, can’t I? That’s my role. Not a storyteller, but someone who gives support.

She crinkles her brow, shutting her book. Raven lays her pen flat against the cover, then her hand on top of it.

Maroon leather dappled with spots of sunlight. Pockets of light in a place of shade.

Characters are connected. To the world, to their stories, to other characters. And even to me. Then…

I should have the power to change it too.

To make that magic real myself. To turn dreams into reality.

Her eyes drift shut, and a match strikes, igniting a flame inside of her. A warm buzz skitters across her skin. Magic hums in her veins, manifesting at her fingertips.

“The future is but a blank page. Allow me to guide you through this story.

“Quoth the Raven!”

Something in the air shifts in response to her plea.

She sighs and reaches—this time not within herself, but outward.

To the robin.

There is momentary nothingness.

Then the ground at her feet falls away in one clean chunk.

She’s suddenly sailing through a void, book and quill slipping out of her grasp. The whirring of a great plummet rattles her bones, chilling hands tugging at her skin.

What is this?

Raven doesn’t entirely understand what’s happening, but for once the unknown does not frighten her. Curiosity pulls her deeper down the rabbit hole. Her insides skip, almost embracing the call.

It feels so natural, so expected, for an entirely new experience.

Is this… how it was meant to be all along?

An impact is her answer. Raven’s feet connect, spirit anchoring to a new space.

Sharp pangs spike along both arms. She hisses, expelling a deep breath through her clenched teeth.

But worse yet is the pain in her chest, a boulder cast into a raging river. Her eyes sting, and her throat is torn asunder, left raw and frayed.

The world explodes into another existence, painting everything over with a coat of jet black. The sky, the plants, even Raven, rendered by the night.

A curtain descends, falling across her head in silken waves. Chords of color dangle from the darkness. All shades of blue, all pulsating with pain.

She recognizes them.

The rich blue-violet of Fear, the palest pastel of Forgotten. A cobalt so deep that it was nearly black—Despair.

These must be…

Raven naturally extends a hand to the colors—introducing a new flash of pain down her arm.

Whispers snake along her skin and slink into her ears, indiscernible and unwelcome. There’s a slight shove against her shoulder, testing her sturdiness.

Don’t push me out, she coaxes the robin’s mind space. I’m a friend. I’m just like you.

The sky shudders.

A harsh wind roars, blowing her bangs and pigtails back.

Blue soars through the darkness, weaving ribbons of a pure and cloudless color. Those streaks, Raven realizes, are drawn by a whole flock. They’re loosely defined, existing as nothing more than outline of some bird-like shapes—but the air is theirs.

Her heart fills with melancholy, sadness seeping into the cuts and gashes already there. Salt rubbed in the wounds, reopening scars.

Her pulse picks up pace, her blood rumbling like thunder. The birds passing overhead are a scene put on fast forward, their shadows racing for the sunset.

This feeling is familiar.

Raven shakily takes Despair in her stiff, aching fingers, rubbing a thumb along it. There is no glossiness or sheen to the darkness, no light that refracts.

Icy images slam into her.

A nest. Shattered eggshells. Feathers and beaks. Robins clamoring together. Wings spread out. Takeoff.

Blue, endless blue.

Uneasy steps to the edge. Clumsy footing, a slip. Infantile wings flapping in desperation. A small body falling, falling, falling…

Fallen down.

Raven nods slowly.

Once upon a time, you were bright-eyed and hopeful. You dreamed of the sky, and exploring it with your loved ones.

One misstep and disaster struck. Your wings were injured, and your dream shattered.

Separated from your family and unable to fly, you don’t know what to do. You’re scared that you’ve lost everything—including yourself. You think that this is where your story stops.

She digs her nail into Despair.

But I’ve seen beyond ever after, and I know that ‘the end’ isn’t truly the end.

The deals offered to her. The hands she had held. The promises not kept.

All those times, I thought I was done for—but life still went on. No… I moved on. I continued living. I went to a new place, I met new people, I experienced new things. What hurt me before made me stronger.

Her shoulders sag, burdened by an unseen weight. She stands tall and lifts them, picturing arms supporting her on both sides and a hand upon her back.

“You’ve truly changed—here, at our Night Raven College.”

She smiles.

My wings are broken too. Not physically, but it keeps me from flying. They’re still healing. I’m not yet ready to see the sky again. But I know that, someday, I’ll be able to fly once more. The same goes for you.

Your story is your own. It’s only over if you let it be—if you let the story write you instead of the other way around.

This page can’t turn to the next without you.

Raven’s breath echoes into the ground, oscillating outward in waves.

Tha-thump.

Tha-thump.

Tha-thump.

She feels a heartbeat buried in the earth. Deep below the dirt, the sound dullened by the distance and the substance piled between them.

Her own pulse slows, matching it. Exhales, long trains of secrets unwinding themselves and drifting up into the sky.

Slow, steady—calm.

Tha-thump.

Tha-thump.

Tha-thump.

Their heartbeats align, becoming one.

Breaths coalescing.

Willing the flow of the feelings, guiding them with a channel formed by her hands.

A radiant blue pools in a circle around Raven’s thumb. The shade of the sky seeps into Despair, coloring the whole chord. It bleeds down into the others—Fear and Forgotten and more.

Before long, Raven is standing under a curtain of sky blue. Cool to the touch, and comforting. She feels like she’s surrounded by plush clouds.

A passing breeze pats her cheek as she sifts the strands between her fingers.

This is… my answer.

She falls back, setting the color to the wind. No grass or ground bothers catching her.

The world vanishes, and she’s tumbling through that vast, wonderful color. Sinking into a beautiful abyss with no bottom.

Free falling, flying.

Blink.

Everything implodes, converging in her tiny body.

The moon and sun and clouds and stars all fold up and pack tightly inside of her. Aurora ribbons and storms with silver linings. Even the shadows slip in, riding upon slivers of light.

The sky is bottled up.

Shoved into her.

And she’s back.

Raven opens her eyes. Real sensations slowly piece together again.

Wobbling wetness in her eyes, trails blazing down her cheeks. Her breath expels in deep, heavy pants. Head swimming, her slight form shaking violently.

The aftereffects hit her all at once.

Nausea makes its home in her gut, dampening her attire with sweat. Pressure presses down hard on her skull, threatening to crush it like an overripe fruit. A consistent, dizzying pain creeps at the corners of her vision.

She gulps and looks down.

The gem set in her magical quill is nearing a pitch black. A single thread of color hangs in the delicate balance, refusing to be overtaken by obsidian.

But the robin doesn’t move a muscle. It regards her with an eerie calmness, eyes wide and innocent.

Waiting for what is next.

“... So, here you are."

The quiet but resolute accusation pierces the forest.

An impish young man seats itself beside them at the lake. He wears a brilliant green vest, a jacket draped over his shoulders. When he grins, there is the flash of fangs and a glint in his big, ruby eyes. They beam out from behind uneven, dark bangs streaked with magenta.

"Vanrouge." Their smile is bitter. "How kind of you to join me in the audience. A bit late for it, though."

"I thought I sensed a familiar presence—and I was right. That magic was your barrier after all." He casually crossed his legs. "Tell me, old friend, what brings you to Sage's Island?"

They laugh. "Meddling in others' affairs, are we?"

"Isn't that precisely what you're doing?" Lilia meets their harsh words blow for blow. It comes as naturally to him as swordplay.

"We never did see eye-to-eye on these things. The path to true happiness never does run as smooth as we want it to, do we?”

"I see that you have no intention of backing down." He frowned. "You have a special interest in this one, or...?"

They dip a finger into the lake water, causing its surface to ripple. The rings rise and fall so easily.

"This story--her story-- was set into motion long ago. It is far past the point of no return. Whatever you do and say now cannot sway the path she has chosen to walk along."

"Ah, but you make exceptions for your own actions?"

"How is she to develop if she cannot overcome the simplest of obstacles?"

"Simple? Even I can see that you're being needlessly cruel and unusual."

"And you are being needlessly lax and indulgent. Time has softened your barbs, O’ Crimson Demon.”

“We don’t speak of the past,” he says quickly. “Not here.”

“You treasure your time here so, even when you are short on it yourself. Worry for yourself, and not for the juveniles you seek to coddle.”

The words hurt—but behind them is a blunted kind of darkness, something deeper and more sullen. An anger and a sadness not shown to the world.

He suddenly understands.

A personal vendetta, then, he ventures. "If this is concerning the Loveless King of old--"

"It is no longer about him. It is about his successor, the one who bears his legacy."

"What is the point of making the child--any child--suffer so? Does she truly deserve to bear the sins of her forefather? Can you not allow her to live and let live?"

The only sound is the water washing everything away.

"Answer me, Estella."

She holds up a finger, silencing him.

"... Listen. Watch. The next scene of the story is unfolding. The finale is afoot.”

A pair tromps through the woods, each person a considerable distance apart. A boy in a headscarf is far ahead, calling out into the thicket through cupped hands. His gloomy partner trails after him unenthusiastically, hunched over and muttering curses.

"No luck so far..." Kalim sighs, his shoulders sagging. "Poor Raven! She must be so confused and cold and tired out here all by herself."

Idia sighs too--much more despairingly.

“‘Poor Raven’ this, ‘poor Raven’ that… Where’s MY ‘poor Idia’?!" he muttered to himself. "I was right in the middle of a game when the headmaster put out that 'urgent' summons and it cost me the match!"

I’ve just been taking Ls left and right lately... First it was Azul-shi pestering me for 'just a little favor', and I felt bad for him so I caved!! That’s the LAST time I decide to have a heart! I had to give up that precious concert ticket to someone that doesn't even appreciate the art of idols!! Then Floyd doesn't do the ONE job he had to do, and I missed out on some limited edition in-game prizes… And now being sent on a rescue mission I didn't ask to be a part of...!

Hell hasn’t known true fear until it’s met with a raging gamer...!!

"Oh, I know! I'll have Jamil run her a hot bath and prepare a banquet to welcome Raven back once we find her. That way, she'll be able to relax and get comfortable again," Kalim babbles ahead of him, all smiles again. (His sadness never lasted that long, Idia had noticed.)

Kalim glances at his partner, then gasps. "Oh gosh, Idia! You look so worn out! You've been so hard at work trying to help us find Raven, it's no wonder you're tired! Should I have Jamil prepare a hot bath and a banquet for you too?"

"N-No!!" Idia snaps. "A-Anything but that!! I think I'd rather die..."

"You feel like you're going to die?! Oh no, should I call a doctor for you?"

"D-Don't do ANYTHING for me, I'm begging you!"

Idia's plea echoes through the forest, shaking the leave above them. They rattle, producing a light, shifting sound. And then...

A chirp comes from far away.

Kalim leaps at the sound. "Did you hear that just now? It sounded like a bird...!!"

"I-Is it really that surprising to find a bird in a forest? Even a shut-in like me knows that's basic common sense..."

"Eh, really? I'm more used to seeing birds in cages. They bring in lots of them at some ceremonies and property openings I've been to. Then we cut a big ribbon and all the birds get released into the sky!"

Kalim glances in the direction of the chirp. "Hey, maybe if we go to the bird, we can ask it for help!"

"H-Huh? That's the first decent idea you've had all day. Birds have the aerial advantage in a situation like this." And the sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can retreat back to my bedroom to catch up on the event, Idia adds. "M-Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to be paired with you after all. It can be useful to have a party member with a high Animal Language stat!"

"Oh, I'm not good at Animal Languages at all!"

"... Wh-What?"

"I just kind of get a gist for what they're feeling by listening really hard!

"H-How are we supposed to communicate what we need help with to any forest animal then?!"

"I can try my best!"

"What if your best isn't good enough?! I-I take back everything I said, being stuck with an extrovert's the WORST!!"

"Don't be like that, Idia!! We can definitely power through this together!!" Kalim rushes over to his upperclassman's side and--to Idia's horror--links arms with him. "Come on, let's get going before we lose the bird!"

"W-Wait, don't just go deciding that on your own...! A-And be careful, I’m not an athletic otaku! D-Don't pull on my arm, you'll dislocate itttt...!!"

Idia's protests go largely ignored or not registered. In the distance, critters scatter on little paws and hooves. Away from him, away from them.

Kalim drags him along the twisted road ahead and toward an uncertain outcome.

Only the hope of a birdsong to guide them.

Elsewhere in the woods, another pair struggles.

"Tch. I can't believe I was woken up from my nap for this,” Leona groans, batting a branch out of his way. Leave it to the headmaster to call us in to do his dirty work. “If he can’t keep an eye on the canary, that’s his problem, not mine.”

“Oh, quit it, will you?” Vil retorts with a sigh. “It’s exactly this kind of attitude that reflects poorly on both yourself and your entire dormitory.”

“You can’t possibly be happy about this.”

“I’m not--but you certainly aren’t making this any more bearable for me.” Vil grimaces as he steps over a large twig. The path before him is long and littered with environmental hazards: rocks, mud, and bugs--none of which he had dressed for. “The least you can do is go about this gracefully.”

“Oh, I do apologize, your majesty. I didn’t realize we were on our way to greet the Queen of Hearts herself,” Leona spits. “Wouldn’t want to offend her with poor manners now.”

“So you think it’s appropriate to offend me with your poor manners instead?” Vil huffs.

“Not like I have a choice. You see any other sorry saps around?”

Their sour exchanges are nothing new, but it offers Vil temporary reprieve from the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Like a pool of fabric clenched in a fist, it gathers, twisting into a concentrated lump. An inkling of dread.

“... Something is wrong,” Rook had said. He, who was always smiling, had unmistakable panic in his eyes that night. “Something is terribly amiss.”

Vil hadn’t thought anything of it until the summons had come.

They had all anticipated the same old thing. Another emergency meeting with some inane demand from the headmaster, some offloading of responsibilities onto the dorm leaders. Expected, shared reluctance and complaints to match the headmaster’s crocodile tears.

It was simply that his niece had gone missing, and he sought her safe return. There were groans and eye rolls to be had, immediate rejections of the request as he scrambled for a bribe or a blackmail that would convince them.

The man was so flippant--yet he pleaded with such an intense desperateness. Not acted, nor exaggerated.

From the night before, Rook’s foreboding warning had arisen fresh in Vil’s mind. And again, now.

Danger on the horizon. A tragedy on the brink of becoming reality. The huntsman had a penchant for sniffing them out.

“... Rook, you absolute fool of a man,” Vil grumbles. “What have you gone and gotten yourself entangled with now?”

“Bleh, why’d you have to bring him up all of a sudden?” Beside his fellow dorm leader, Leona glowers, his ears flattening. “Cut it out or you’ll will him into existence. It’s already bad enough I have to put up with one pain in the tail.”

The wind passing through set the leaves above them rustling. Papery thin and delicate, the foliage may as well have been papers being shuffled and sorted.

“It’s rude to eavesdrop,” Vil shoots back. “Do you mind?”

“Can’t help having better hearing than the average human,” he shrugs, infuriatingly smug.

“Oui, Roi du Léon! That is but one of your many charm points!!”

“Yeah, that’s... right...”

Leona’s face slowly falls. Vil’s own expression matches his. Neither of them had noticed a third person emerging after them from the thicket. Not a smell, nor a sound, to give away his presence.

He stands between the duo, the brim of his feathered hat obscuring his eyes. A blonde bob cut, the rich violet and crimson band of Pomefiore upon his arm.

Rook casually tips his hat, causing Leona to shudder and back away. “Bonjour. What a coincidence it is to meet two kings sharing a stroll. It must be destiny that our paths crossed!”

“Oh good, you’ve jinxed us,” Leona drawls, passing Vil a glare. “Go figure.”

He doesn’t deign to acknowledge the lion with a response. Instead, Vil steps toward his huntsman. “Rook, just what is going on here?”

“Hmm?” His smile is far too dazzling for the circumstances. “Are you curious about my day? I’ve only been out taking in the sights and sounds of nature myself.”

“Be serious!” Vil considers shaking him by the shoulders, but thinks better of it. “This wasn’t the ominous attitude you had yesterday.”

Leona scowls. “Your first mistake was to trust Rook with anything at all.”

“As though you’ve been of any more use?”

Their sharp quips are met with a voice like a gentle caress.

“Roi du Poison, Roi du Léon.”

Rook tenderly took each of their hands in his. He playfully swung their arms from side to side in a simple dance, his lips forming a musical chuckle. “Oh, I’ve had the honor of witnessing the most marvelous scene!! It sets my heart aquiver at the thought.”

“What...” Vil sways with him in a confused daze. “What are you on about now?!”

“Looks like he’s finally lost his senses,” Leona simpers. “Tragic, really.”

“You’re not providing any concrete answers, Rook,” Vil protests, tugging on their linked hands—as if to snap him out of his trance. “What happened when you went out last night?”

Rook smiles dreamily. “What indeed. You see, I’ve looked beyond the looking glass and glimpsed the birth of new magic not once, not twice, but three times! First Monsieur Spade, then Monsieur Crabapple… Fufu, I’m quite the lucky man.”

“The first years that came into their unique magic,” Vil recalls. “Yes, I’m aware. Then this third incident must be…”

A bird sounds somewhere in the forest.

Leona immediately catches on. Quick as a cat, he pounces on the opportunity presented to him. “You’ve seen the canary. Well, track her down for us. Poor old Crowley’s beside himself without his golden girl.”

Irises in slivers of green peer out from the shadow of his hat. “Non, I’m afraid I can’t allow that. We mustn’t interfere at a time as fragile as this.”

“You’re making this real unnecessarily difficult. Step aside before I make you.”

The frustrated growl in Leona’s tone does little to frighten him. Rook laughs softly, looking fondly upon the woods surrounding them.

“A flower of evil is most beautiful when left on its own to bloom. If plucked, that vitality dissipates with time.”

He wishes to see it at the height of its beauty.

Pure, noble, and true.

At the end of a path is a clearing--and in that clearing is a raven.

She's crouched to the ground and deliberately made her presence as small as possible. Beside her is a basket. She stares into it, as if afraid to disrupt whatever is inside.

"Raven!!"

She turns at the call of her name, eyes swelling at the appearance of Kalim and Idia from behind the trees.

"Wh...”

“You’re okay!” Kalim tackles her in a smothering hug. “Everyone was so worried!!”

“Speak for yourself,” Idia mutters. “Assuming that everyone will just smile and agree with whatever motivational stuff you spew out... Th-This is why I can’t stand the sparkly, outgoing types irl!”

“You came looking for me?” Her words are tentative.

“Bzzzt, wrong. The headmaster cried and begged for us to find you,” Idia sneers, refusing to meet her curious eyes. “Some of us have more important things to do than random side quests.”

“Uncle did?”

It’s surreal to say.

Shame and shyness well up in her chest. She wonders what he must have been feeling when he discovered her note, wonders if she’s worthy of such worry. Raven is trapped between an apology she can’t bring herself to utter and the questions that fill her head.

“We’re so glad we found you!” Kalim finds her hands and squeezes them. “Let’s go back.”

“Back…?” She’s bewildered by the word. Blinks several times to reacclimate herself to it. “To everyone… to Night Raven College?”

“Gahahah! Of course, where else could we mean? Right, Idia?”

“D-Do you really need my input on this… There’s literally no other place we could mean.”

“... That’s right,” Raven agrees, just barely audible. “Night Raven College is my one and only home. My nest.”

She cradles the basket to her chest, hanging her head low. Her shadow is cast over the contents, odd bobs and ends collected from the forest, remnants of the place she once resided in.

Both the old and the new, together. Something borrowed and something blue.

“... I want to go home,” Raven says quietly, “if you’re willing to have me.”

“Huh, what kind of stupid question is that? The quest was to come and find you. There’d be no point in it if they didn’t want you back with them.”

“There’s people that would miss you if you just up and flew away, Raven. Friends and family,” Kalim adds. He doesn’t speak with the same scathing bite as Idia. “You should have seen how the headmaster was acting, it broke my heart!”

“Yeah, ngl it was p pathetic.”

“That... certainly sounds like Uncle.” There’s a slight laugh concealed in her statement. Amusement at the ordinariness of it.

She sucks in a breath and wills herself to stand. Her legs wobble, no steadier than a newly hatched chick taking its first steps. “I’d better not worry him any more than I already have.”

“You can lean on me for support if you need it,” Kalim offers, offering his shoulder. “Let’s get you back safely!”

“Finally.” Idia turns and starts grumpily tromping in the way he came from. 

He fumbles with his noise-cancellation headphones, wanting to wash away the outside world from his senses. As he slips them over his ears, he overhears Kalim and Raven behind him.

“What were you doing all the way out here anyway?”

“I was looking for something for the longest time. But now I think I’ve found it.” She pauses. “No... a little birdie helped me find it. A piece of the future.”

The junk in her basket? She was looking for that? Idia scoffs and tunes them out. Whatever.

Soft instrumentals play the opening notes of a song. The Fates will soon join in a harmonious choir, spinning the story of another hero. Behind him, Raven gives a rapt observation over the music.

“Ah... The sky is so blue today.”

Blue?

Idia inclines his head, a hand shielding his eyes from the shining sun. Above, a deep, permeating blue expands in all directions. He hadn’t much noticed it before--not when he was so often cooped up in his own bedroom.

It’s so bright, so hopeful.

A wind blows. Drying up tears and lifting their spirits up. Idia’s fiery hair whips in the breeze, shimmering in the sun as he braces himself against it.

Right before the lyrics begin.

“Oh yeah, the sky’s really pretty today!” Kalim notes. “I’ve always wondered what makes the sky blue? Sometimes it’s more and sometimes it’s less.”

“I wonder too.”

The Fates erupt in Idia’s ears, heralding destiny ever closer.

[prince-toffee]

Green Copper Flame

"Hey what's up Marines, it's ya girl Marine The Raccoon back at it again with another video! Last time we tried Magnesium, in this video we're gonna try out Copper, and see what colour the flame is."

---

The video sharply cut to the footage of Blaze asleep and snoring in her royal bed, her hair a mess, one strand even making its way into the cat's wide open mouth. Marine approached quietly, a finger against her lips, gesturing to the phone camera to be quiet as if speaking to the audience. The young racoon knew that her mentor's super-senses were unparalleled, she could hear a heart beat miles away and tell you who it belonged to. The fact that she hadn't slept for the two previous days due to mountains of paperwork helped the sly gremlin to move undetected. The fact that she managed to get this far was a miracle, opening the door to Blaze's room, sneaking in, unheard of. Mari stepped lightly on her toes. One hand holding the phone trying to hold everything in frame, the other holding a cylindrical container already unscrewed. And poured the contents of the container onto Blaze's head; a dark bronze powder, copper powder to be exact.

Just then Marine froze, a noise emanated from the cat, she was stiring up. Groggy, Blaze half opened one eye to investigate and found her easily-excitable apprentice's big ol' eyes glaring at her. "Wha-" Before the Princess could fully regain consciousness Marine enacted her contingency plan.

"Wake up sleepy head! It's-- uh-- your Birthday! Happy Birthday!!"

"...Today's not my b--"

Just then something else stirred around and up, hidden under the bed covers Marine hadn't noticed when she snuck in - The covers were pushed back and Silver's head popped out, also only half-conscious, with dark eyes bags and a bonette holding his quills. "Who's Birthday is it?" He asked still asleep.

Marine covered her mouth with her hand instinctively trying to hid her huge Chris Pratt Parks'n'Rec Pikachu face. But no such luck, she burst out cackling. Blaze suddenly became aware of the camera and the fact that she was being recorded. Her pupils dilated, oh no. If the puplic saw this. "MAH-REEN!!!" The young racoon sprinted away.

---

Footage cut to later, Marine sat at dinner table with view of Blaze annoyed, rummaging through her royal handbag. "I spilled lipstick in your Valentino bag."

"YOU SPILLED--UWA!?GHWAH!?AGAW?!!HA-- LISPSTICK IN MY VALENTINO WHITE BAG!?!?!!!??!!" Blaze roared in fury, in pure rage. Right on queue, as a physical manifestation of her emotions flames burst up from Blaze's head, ponytail, and shoulders. Marine burst out laughing again, so hard that she actually fell off her chair, and began to roll on the floor. It took Blaze a second to release, she turned to look at the closest mirror and there it was; her head, burning a green copper flame.

---

The shower head was on, the ponytail hairband was discarded off somewhere, Silver had emptied an entire lavender scented shampoo bottle onto Blaze's head, and was in the midst of massaging slash rubbing it into the Princess' hair. Blaze had stuck her head into the shower stream once more scrubbing it again and again.

"I think that's it." He said.

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure. I think you burned most of it off... And we're out of shampoo."

"Which one was it?"

"The ugh--" Squint, "Lavender. Ouff, I need glasses." He moved his pointing finger and a towel journeyed across the bathroom into Blaze's hands coated in green aura. Blaze dried her head best she could and hanged the towel on her shoulders. "At least you smell nice now." He remarked trying to find a 'silver' lining.

She sighed, "You always take her side." She sounded unamused.

"That's why I'm her favourite." He kissed her on the forehead.

[titanicfreija]

Reaching Out

It took a while for Sunny to realize that she was supposed to reach out to Caiatl. It helped that they were busy with literally everything except the Cabal, but it still felt rude to take so long to reach out.

Less than an hour passed between Sunny asking for audience and the request being granted for three time windows of her choice. She picked the one she was most certain wouldn't conflict with schedules and remembered why she preferred the Empress getting to choose meeting times. Freelancing for the Vanguard wasn't all that strict, and Sunny didn't have to worry about schedules being disrupted.

~

"I didn't realize I was supposed to make the next appointment," Sunny said as soon as Caiatl lumbered through the door of the parlor.

"I began to wonder. It would not be unlike you to miss the intended meanings when not specifically mentioned. I hesitated to reach out." She sat on her couch and placed a cup on the table next to her. A stand for her Hareball shell.

"We've been really busy," Sunny admitted, settling into place. "Which is kind of why I remembered that I was supposed to call you, because I wanted to tell you something and thought about how long it's been and then about… but I wanted to tell you something."

"Oh?"

"It's kind of silly, but I wanted to tell you that the gun you noticed she's so fond of, its kill count is over one hundred thousand, now."

Caiatl blinked at her, golden eyes wide as turned to look at the Ghost. "On a single weapon?"

"Yep."

"Twenty thousand in…"

"Six months by our measure."

"She works quickly," Caiatl rumbled. "I never doubt her, nor you, but I remain surprised."

Sunny danced in the air merrily. "I have a very powerful Guardian."

"Quite. And it's no labor to use the weapons with these powers?"

Sunny rolled her shell flaps in turn. "I feel the pull but we don't get tired. It makes her feel stronger, usually. We've learned lots of ways to cycle our Light back into herself."

Caiatl chortled. "I appreciate the way you said that," she said. "Do you have any interesting stories? I have heard many about this pit in Nessus. I would have yours."

"Well, there's the part where Freija started messing with things she shouldn't have been messing with," Sunny huffed. "She and Rise decided to go digging around down on Nessus and she has gotten crushed by this one stupid moving wall every other time she gets near it!"

Caiatl chortled and gave Sunny a short nod. "It is good to hear that you have returned to the field. I find Guardians are best cared for with much exercise."

The Ghost saw the smile, and the Uluran lost her step as she bit down the laugh. Sunny tried to keep it down and failed, finally fritzing into a giggle. "Yes, Lightbearers need their violent enrichment," she conceded. "If you just really want to call them pets."

"This was a joke." She grunted uncomfortably and shuffled slightly faster.

"What's wrong? I won't get mad… Well, I won't hold it against you, I am asking you to say it out loud."

Caiatl chortled quietly. "I have gathered that the relationships between Ghost and Guardian vary widely, and your explanations that I previously mistook for wandering and inspecific were simply inclusive and non-exhaustive. I have seen mentor and pupil, master and pet, guard and ward; and I have been unable to call you and yours anything but parent and child. I expect this to change as she matures, but as it has been, I do not think of your Guardian as your pet and never have. I do refer to children similarly as I do pets."

Sunny bobbed after her. "Why didn't you just tell me that?"

"I am still unsettled with… myself," she admitted softly, but she shrugged off the change in mood and straightened up. "I do have another question. What does your Guardian do when faced with Hydra? I have been collecting inspiration."

Sunny wheeled. "I can't imagine what it's like for you guys, that's got to be rough. When she's alone, we carry this rocket launcher that's pretty good at taking care of them, especially if we can start with a good lungful of Light. When we have Rise, mostly, run and keep it busy while she takes care of it. It usually doesn't take long."

"Rise. The sniper-hunter fireteammate?"

"Yep! She's way more interested in digging stuff up than Freija is, but Freija loves fieldwork and will follow Rise to some pretty deep lows." Sunny shuddered to remember the days spent crawling in Calus's psyche in the Leviathan. They eventually found the gun Rise was looking for and she didn't even like it.

"There is a story hiding in this sudden silence," teased Caiatl. "Will you share it?"

"Actually, I don't think you'll like it," the Ghost admitted, swaying. "It was tied into the stuff on the Leviathan."

Caiatl grunted. "I think you are right. Instead, I ask, are there many stories of this Rise leading Freija into danger?"

"Way too many."

"Choose one?"

Sunny wheeled and thought about it. "There was a rumor about some armor that could be specially modded in this one EDZ pit, and we got chased out of there so bad we had to find another Guardian to help."

Caiatl chortled. "Oh?"

"Like I said, Rise is the primary damage dealer, and even when Freija is on full offense, she's just not kitted to hurt like Rise is. So sometimes these rumors will have us in some deep trouble. Getting further into these guys' hovels can be like reaching the command ship– you got kicked all the way up here and now the real fun begins. So we had to run and get more help to kill this Captain down there."

Caiatl rumbled another laugh. "Just the Captain?"

"Yeah, actually. We did great until then and we could have done it but it just was easier to check a merc board." She thoughtfully bobbed and wheeled uncertainly. "Well, I say great. We had a hell of a time in this one part, we had to sparrow this huge span and we were blown up over and over…. And this ogre…"

"It sounds like quite an adventure."

"It was!"

@annieruok94 @wolvereaux

[2baddiesfanfics]

Candlebearer's Oath

Pairing: Clorinde x Navia

Tags: Wax Play, Mutual Masturbation

Summary:

The Marechaussee Hunters have a secret history of special rituals. After discovering one of them in a manual left behind by her mentor, Clorinde decides to broach the subject with Navia.

Read on Ao3

Clorinde was exhausted. Yes, she had willingly agreed to train the newest members of the Marechaussee Phantom, but only because Neuvillette had spoken so highly of her skills. Melusines were traditionally peaceful creatures, but they’d need to know their way around a sword if they wanted to ensure their own safety during intense investigations.

The champion duelist had done her absolute best to bring them up to speed but was in desperate need of a break. On top of that…she missed Navia. The president of the Spina di Rosula had been so proud of her when she explained why she’d be away for nearly three weeks. Clorinde blushed profusely as she recalled the events of the night before she’d left.

—————

“Candlebearer,” Navia murmured between kisses across her lover’s face. “Shadowhunter,” The sound of Clorinde’s other title upon her lips made her pupils dilate as their limbs tangled in bed. “…And last but not least, my girlfriend. Whatever will I do while you’re away, ma chérie?”

The duelist buried her face in the other woman’s neck, trying to memorize the feeling of the warmth radiating from her skin and the smell of fresh macarons baked into her hair. 

“It’ll only be a few weeks, I swear. When the Iudex makes a personal request…I find it difficult to turn him down. Please…forgive me,” she whispered against her flesh. “I promise to make it up to you when I return,” she stated before brushing her lips against Navia’s cheek. Never one to resist the impulse to share Marchaussee Hunter lore, Clorinde smiled deviously. “Speaking of the candlebearer title…did I ever tell you about what the book I found among Petronilla’s old belongings when I got older had to say about it?”

Navia sighed. “Are you really sure this is the best use of your mouth right now?”

“Hmmm, I suppose you have no interest in learning the secret techniques the hunters of old used for pleasure, then?”

Suddenly the president of the Spina's attention had been captured. “I always thought they’d been far more learned in techniques to ensnare prey of the…wild variety.”

The duelist stroked the other woman’s hair. “That is, of course, what the public understands. Most Fontainian’s know only of the ‘Hunter's Oath,’ having heard it mentioned in some play or novel. What has remained secret to those who take that oath…is much more tantalizing.”

Navia’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “Well? Go on! You can’t just hint at it and not tell me!”

Clorinde captured her lips in a searing kiss before mumbling, “If you’re a good girl while I’m away, I’ll show, not tell.”

——-

Having made her required pit stop before heading back to the apartment she shared with Navia, she was about to fulfill her promise.

Although tired, the thought of engaging in this age-old practice with the woman she loved gave her a renewed sense of vigor. When she had reached adulthood, Clorinde had finally felt ready to sort through what remained of her master’s possessions. At the bottom of the wooden chest she had left behind lay an ancient-looking tome, undoubtedly one of the only Marchaussee Hunter manuals left in existence.

A thick leather strap connected by a lock encircled the book, and the duelist knew exactly where the key was - hanging around her neck. After opening it, she felt her face grow hot as she flipped through the back half. While the beginning held details of training regiments, the later chapters included comprehensive descriptions of pre-battle rituals of a sexual nature. 

Although inexperienced in practice, Clorinde had become an avid reader throughout her youth. She’d read more than enough to be knowledgeable in theory. When her childhood friendship with Navia had taken a turn for the romantic, she’d often picture the two of them engaged in such acts. And now, fantasy was about to become reality.

Being greeted by Navia’s giant warm smile nearly made her melt like the tools she had just purchased were about to.

“Clorinde! You’re finally home!” She hugged her so tightly she was afraid the president may have broken a rib.

“Missed…you…too…please…”

“Oh my!” Her girlfriend let her go immediately. “Sorry…I just missed you so much.”

The duelist kissed her forehead. “It’s alright, mon amour. I missed you even more. Melusines are quite cute, but I must say…they’re no Navia.”

Shoving her shoulder playfully, the other woman giggled at the compliment. Suddenly, her gaze grew hungry. “I hope they didn’t wear you out too terribly…you haven’t forgotten your promise, have you? Because I’ve been a very good girl.”

Clorinde smirked. “Oh, have you now? I suppose I must honor our agreement then. Lucky for you I happen to have what I need,” she said as she patted the bag in her grip.

“Chioriya Boutique? What, are we roleplaying? Clorinde, look, I know you enjoy the Tabletop Troupe, but-“

“Good guess, but I don’t think you’re aware of the other goods Chiori sells on the side,” the duelist interrupted. Navia cocked an eyebrow in curiosity. The duelist reached into the dark sack and produced what looked like a small glass pitcher. 

“This is a candle. But not like the ones we use around the apartment for mood lighting. These are specifically formulated to not burn as hot. After all…I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

Immediately understanding the meaning behind her insinuation, Navia’s eyes grew wide. “Clori…I don’t know about this…”

“Navia, love, you know I’d never make you do anything you weren’t comfortable with,” she stated as she held her girlfriend’s hand. “But let me explain before you make a decision. One of the things I discovered in Petronilla’s books was an old ritual that was said to bind a Marchaussee Hunter to their lover completely. It’s said to bring the couple closer - not by magic, but by demonstrating trust in each other.”

The look of concern that had originally washed over Navia softened. She nodded, permitting Clorinde to continue her explanation.

“First, it requires a candle made from a specific substance that doesn’t burn as hot as traditional wax. Chiori happens to know a provider in Inazuma. She had me test it by dripping one on the back of my hand and I promise it doesn’t hurt or scar. Next, I’m supposed to recite the Hunter’s Oath as I decorate your body with the melted wax. From that point, we are supposed to do what we can to orgasm as close to simultaneously as possible.”

“Sounds like quite the challenge. What kind of president would I be if I backed down now? Let’s do it,” she responded resolutely.

Clorinde’s stare intensified. “Are you sure?” Navia caressed her cheek. 

“We already know we’re destined for each other. You came back to me once and have worked yourself to the bone to atone for something I still don’t blame you for. I know your master meant a lot to you, as does the tradition in which you’ve been trained. Let me prove to you there’s no one I trust more.”

Navia lay naked on the bed they shared, the surface of her skin raised thanks to the cool air coming in from their bedroom window. The flame of the candle flickered as the sweet tang of lavender melon wafted through the room.

Gently lifting the other woman’s hand, the duelist carefully poured a small amount of the fragrant wax on the back of it. The sensation was unlike anything Navia had felt before. It was warm, not scalding - like the taste of strong liquor at the end of a long day. She sighed in contentment, and Clorinde visibly relaxed. 

“Ready?” She whispered.

“With you, always.” The duelist smiled at her reassurance. Lifting the candle a safe distance from her lover’s body, she trickled a line between her cleavage as she began her recitation:

From this day, I pass the candle's shadow-veil.

The trail of colored liquid dribbled below the swell of the other woman’s breasts as she let out a soft moan. Clorinde had to control her heavy breathing at the incredibly erotic sight before her.

Now, as we face the perils of the long night...

A swirl of wax spread across Navia’s toned stomach.

I pledge to remember the oath of daylight.

The duelist carefully dripped around her hips and noticed the slightest buck from her girlfriend.

To enshrine tears, life, and love.

This line cut deep. The two had experienced many tears but twice as much love in the years they had spent apart and together. 

Holding dawn's coming as my votive.

Clorinde stopped just short of Navia’s pelvis, careful to not let any wax leak where it could prove problematic. 

And so shall I never despair. 

The last line echoed as Navia chimed in. As the duelist had mentioned, the oath was something anyone familiar with Fontainian history had heard at least a few times in plays and novels.

“God you look gorgeous right now,” Clorinde groaned as she blew out the candle and swiftly started to undress.

“Don’t dally. We still need to fulfill the last part,” the other woman teased. Clorinde eagerly joined her on the bed, pulling her in for a deep kiss. Both already wet from the previous activity, their hands immediately sought to make use of the evidence of their arousal. Their fingers moved in sync, each careful not to send the other over the edge too soon.

When their tongues had grown weary of clashing, they rested their foreheads against each other. Between heavy pants, Clorinde took command.

“R-ready?”

“Archons…yes…hurry…”

“On my count…one…two…come with me…”

The women hit the height of passion in equal measure, their bodies shaking but supported as they leaned on each other for support. The force of emotion was too great, and they fell back into the mattress together.

Navia rested her head in the crook of Clorinde’s arm as the duelist stroked her shoulder. The president of the Spina could tell something was still on her girlfriend’s mind. 

“So…you don’t actually believe in any of these superstitious old legends, do you?”

Clorinde shrugged. “What harm could it do? One thing’s for sure…my Marchaussee Hunter predecessors sure were adventurous. Hope you’re ready to try some of the other things I’ve found in notes in the margins.”

[imjustgoose]

Harry Pooter and The Eccentric Dragon Man

Hey gang I just wrote a fanfic for a Redditor I found a month ago. Nevermind the fact I've never posted, give it some love! You can also read it on Ao3 here. It features Miraak the First Dragonborn as a weird Hogwarts teacher absolutely beefing the Wizarding World:

To say that the students of Hogwarts were curious about their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher would be an understatement, for they had only a few whispers of knowledge surrounding the teacher that spread amongst the students like wizard lice:

Professor Miraak was an ancient man with the soul and blood of a dragon. He harboured unique powers and had spent over 4500 years in a realm governed by a tentacle monster. Both he and the monster had voices like warm honey and unquenchable thirsts for knowledge, two of a kind.

The trouble was that such thirsts came at a cost for the man these days. Ever since he was rescued from Apocrypha by the Last Dragonborn, Miraak was still on the hunt for any new power or knowledge he could get his hands on. Unfortunately, the Dragonborn’s job wasn’t enough to cover the costs he required, so Miraak found himself dusting off a chalkboard ten minutes before his class was to begin. It was strange, but Miraak loved to talk and he loved being the smartest person in the room even more. He still donned his typical robes and armour, but his face was visible to the world upon Dumbledore’s request to ‘maintain a welcoming image’. Miraak scoffed at the idea, but he complied. There wasn’t much that he could do to hide the black ink stains around his eyes, his facial scars, his blackened scleras or his slit pupils, but he at least kept his facial hair neat and ran pomade through his tresses. He heard a student whisper something that sounded like ‘cloth girlfriend’ when he was introduced to the school in the middle of the year, but Miraak paid no mind to it. Gender meant little when you were an Atmoran half-dragon who could shout people through walls, and he figured that the cloth comment was in reference to his robes. Before Miraak could dwell on it any further, his senses told him to turn around, so he did. Eye contact was something for him to improve on, since he was not accustomed to conversing with humans for over 4500 years, so he swept his gaze across the room. The eyes that were on him watched with interest, but most were focused on their books and other students. His class was suddenly full of students, time to begin.

“Is everyone seated?” Miraak more so asked himself rather than the students, spying only two empty seats and immediately combing his mind for why two chairs would be unoccupied. He must have looked confused or annoyed, since a girl with a bushy head of brown hair was quick to speak up.

“The Patil twins are away for family business, sir,” she responded in a uniform manner. Miraak quirked a scarred brow before nodding.

“Very well, I’ll make a note of that later…” Miraak answered, eyeing the other students in their respective friend groups. He knew none of the students, but he was nothing if not charismatic, so he offered a thin smile and began writing his name on the board, “the other teachers prefer to be called by their last name, but I do not refer to myself by a family name. You shall call me Professor Miraak,” he stated, writing his name in English and Dovahzul. The girl from earlier furrowed her brows as she saw the strange symbols, waiting a moment before raising her hand. Miraak gestured for her to speak, his eyes narrowing as he observed her rigid state. In fact, the whole class seemed out of sorts. When he was their age, he’d sneak out of the temple for wine and gratifying escapades, not listening to his mentors even when they threatened to beat him. Atmorans were rough, but kids of any race were rowdy, so why weren’t they?

“I’ve never seen that language before. What is it?” Her inquisitive nature pleased Miraak, being a fellow seeker of knowledge. He looked back at the board and pointed at the markings.

“That is Dovahzul, Dragon language. It is from the dragons of my realm, words that hold power in each syllable. Note how the strokes and points look like claw markings,” he ran his fingers down the strokes of his second language, “as dragons would write for mortals to read. Your headmaster would be wise to teach you this language, but I digress. You are here to learn magic with your….wands, spells to defend yourself against the dangers of this world and any other world you may find yourself in. You must unravel the truth of- yes?” Miraak was cut off by another hand, owned by a blonde boy.

“Where is Professor Umbridge? We were supposed to have her for the whole year,” he asked, visibly annoyed at the teacher change. He seemed to be the only one, since the class subtly reacted with disdain upon hearing the name from his lips. Miraak placed a hand on his hip and looked at the podium where she likely once stood.

“I have been informed that she was unable to teach further, so I am here. I am more than capable of teaching you, rest assured.” Miraak offered another thin smile, which did little to quell the boy’s concern, or annoyance. Miraak was trying to smile more in his days as a free man. Living with his counterpart had helped him attain some semblance of happiness, but he was still healing and still deeply wounded. His past could, at times, scare people off, so he was practising a more friendly look. The Last Dragonborn coached him through it for a week, being thorough and supportive of Miraak’s endeavours. It was a new challenge, so he tried his best to accommodate.

“Now we can finally learn what we need,” Miraak heard a voice mutter. His keen senses immediately zeroed in on a boy in the front, a Draconic stare briefly surfacing before he tried to mask it. The boy looked…stressed. Miraak could practically smell the exhaustion from him, further enunciated by the boy’s pale complexion and dark circles under his glasses. Miraak scoffed, not at the boy, but at the mention of him being the one to teach them after another teacher’s failure.

“Vahzah, you are in the hands of a very capable teacher. I once engaged in a battle so fierce it tore a piece of land off a continent to create an island. I devoured dragons every day to steal their power and have levelled armies with no more than an utter of my breath. I am what the dragons called Dovahkiin, a Dragonborn, and the very first of my kind. If I cannot teach you how to block little zaps from wooden sticks, then nobody can.” Miraak’s tone was arrogant and proud, only boosted by the amazed looks he garnered from his boasting. It made his chest feel hot with fire, a common trait he discovered after the Dragonborn praised him. A dragon’s pride was as precious as the treasures they kept, so looks of awe were logs in his wildfire.

“He's joking, yeah? This bloke’s having a go at wands and talking about dragon-speaking powers,” a redhead spoke to the exhausted boy next to him. Miraak snorted and gave a toothy grin.

“Nothing I do is in jest, unless you find a serpent in your loafers. That would be a prank, done in jest. Magic in my realm comes from hands and mouths, or staves, for those who have a harder time with magicka. No, I was a prodigy, which is why I was chosen to be a Dragon Priest,” Miraak stepped away from the chalkboard and stood on one side of the room after his boast. Without a sweat, he channelled his magicka through his right hand and summoned a skeleton thrall in front of the class. He had to keep himself from inflating too much for the students' praise. Conjuration must have been unfamiliar to them, “tell me now, what spells do you know to dispel an enemy such as this? Anyone can answer, no need for hands,” he asked, looking to see if anyone stands. Surprisingly, nobody stood or answered. Miraak folded his arms in annoyance, “Sahlo kiir! This is an enemy, you’d all be dead by now. Quickly, someone stand and vanquish this thrall before I send it after you!” His words triggered a student to use the Reductor curse. As the skeleton dissipated into blue crackles of magicka, Miraak nodded to him in approval. The student had been the exhausted boy, who looked like someone Miraak should have been familiar with.

“Sir, with all due respect, we already know this stuff. Can’t we, I don’t know, learn stuff that could protect us from real threats?” His voice carried an edge to it that most teachers would have given the student trouble for, but it gave Miraak a streak of satisfaction to see a mind so eager.

“Real threats can come in many different forms. Had I intended to kill you, you’d all be soot, staining the floorboards,” Miraak warned with a cocky smirk, “tell me, what is in this world that you are so eager to fight?” He questioned, moving back to the middle of the room, eyeing the students that seemed almost too frightened to speak.

“Don’t you know about Voldemort? The Dark Lord? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?” The boy seemed to be growing more frustrated with each name, which Miraak met with indifference. “Petty names for a petty opponent,” Miraak tutted, “In my time, names were a bit less….I want to say stupid? Who gave this man these names?”

“I’m…not sure,” The boy admitted. A few whispers flittered between students, not a single syllable unheard by Miraak. His pupils narrowed as he listened, causing the boy to gulp, also heard by Miraak.

“That is interesting. You children fascinate me. You live in a world where villains less than one hundred years old threaten you. Does he use a little stick too?” Miraak offered a creased smile, feeling amusement from the way his whelps shook in their seats at the thought of a man who hides behind names.

“Sorry, but are you going to teach us or continue to be condescending?” The girl with bushy hair spoke up. Yet another outburst to be chastised for, but it reflected Miraak’s ambition.

“You are right, young one. Vosaraan! Show me what your fancy twigs can do!”

Each student eventually gave their names and demonstrated their main three combat charms as the class progressed. Miraak took note of their strengths, weaknesses and which fighting style of his own knowledge would suit them the most. He eventually singled out Harry, the exhausted boy, and crouched on the teacher’s desk. Miraak sat like a content frog with bent knees and straight arms, earning him a few looks, but he paid no mind.

“In this classroom, we progress by acknowledging the best and the worst. Potter will attempt to strike me, given that he has shown incredible feats of attacking,” Miraak announced, looking between Harry and Neville with a gleam in his eye, “Longbuttocks, what is the best course of action if Potter attacked me and I had nowhere to go?”

“Go up! I mean-”

“Wrong!”

Miraak dodged Harry’s spell by propelling himself to the right. Without a second to breathe, he jumped from the wall he landed on and tackled Harry to the floor. Miraak took Harry’s wand and flung it across the room, watching it land in a fish tank. With a snarl, he jumped back onto the desk, feeling particularly pleased at the looks his students gave.

“Sir? That doesn’t seem like-”

“How do I award points to a house?”

“But- for what?”

“How?”

“You just say the number of points you want to give to a house then say which house you wish to-”

“One hundred points to Slytherin for my victory here,” Miraak beamed with pride, “yes, I am in Slytherin. Okay, work on your disarming charms and write something in Dovahzul for extra points. I will test you again next week, but if I don’t see any progress made I will take points away. Class dismissed.” Miraak finished by running a hand through his hair. The students shuffled out the room, whispering about Miraak clearly being nuts and a ‘goth girlfriend’. He figured he misheard the first letter before, but it still made no sense to him. Either way, he had fun on his first day. Harry dusted himself off and took his wand from the tank with a disgusted look, but gave Miraak a nod before he left. Miraak would make fighters out of his students and give this ��Dark Lord’ a real threat. In truth, he already knew about Voldemort after a few teachers told him over a cup of tea and dainty sweets that he took to his office for his snack stash. He was not frightened. One strange undead man was nothing to sneeze at, but Miraak would not worry, he was a responsible and good teacher.

~~~~~

Voldemort ended up being easy work, after all the fuss. Miraak’s brassy boots crunched against the shattered glass in the Department of Mysteries as he approached where Voldemort once stood. He picked up a wand and eyed it with a fascinated gaze. Bone, not twig. Miraak snorted and looked back at everyone who joined him in the battle. Nobody had words, not even the Death Eaters. How quaint.

“Pruzah! I knew he’d be no threat,” Miraak gloated. He already felt eager to write to the Dragonborn about his feat. When his eyes landed on the students, he put on a stern face, “you all have a paper due next Friday. This excursion will not grant you an extension, unless you grow ill.”

“Professor, you killed Voldemort like he was-”

“Nothing? I know!” Miraak decided to give the bone wand a flick, eyes widening as the curly haired Death Eater exploded into a swarm of butterflies, “What!? Suleyk ahst aan mal qeth!? Now I get it!”

It was safe to say that Miraak quite liked teaching teenagers magic. Who could have guessed!?

END

Miraak’s language key, translated by Thuum.org:

Dovahzul = Dragon voice, the language of Mundus dragons

Vahzah = True/Right

Dovahkiin = Dragon born, a mortal with the blood and soul of a dragon

Sahlo kiir = Weak child

Vosaraan = Haste/be without delay, used to convey ‘quickly!’

Pruzah = Good

Suleyk ahst aan mal qeth = “Such power in a little bone.”

[helix-enterprises117]

Halo Reloaded: Alba-B221

Linda marched, her boots making a steady, determined sound against the pristine floor. Beside her, the somewhat less imposing, but no less formidable, figure of Doctor Catherine Halsey kept pace. Halsey, the mastermind behind the Spartan-II program, was a woman whose name evoked a cocktail of awe, fear, and controversy within the UNSC's ranks. Since her reintegration into society, after a self-imposed exile due to ethical qualms over her own creations, she hadn't exactly been at the center of any new projects—until now.

As they strode into a briefing room that seemed too cold, too sterile even for military standards, Halsey finally broke the silence. "Linda, I assume you're curious why we're here."

Linda, with a physique and presence that somehow managed to make the room feel even smaller, merely nodded, her face an unreadable mask. "The thought had crossed my mind," she responded, her voice betraying nothing of the storm of instincts and newfound abilities that swirled within her.

Halsey, undeterred by Linda's stoicism, launched into an explanation as she brought up a series of images and files on a large, holographic display. "After the... debacle with the Spartan-III program and Ackerson's subsequent... indiscretions, Spartan Ops was formed. It's a second chance for those who've been through... unusual changes, like yourself."

Linda's stance stiffened subtly, the only sign of her growing interest—or concern. "And why am I involved in this?"

"You're not just involved, Linda. You're the key," Halsey turned, facing Linda with an intensity that belied her academic demeanor. "It's about guiding, mentoring. And there's someone specific in mind for you. Spartan Alba-B221."

The display flickered, and an image of a young, intimidatingly built Spartan appeared. Despite her youth, Alba-B221 exuded a raw, almost untamed power. Her eyes, with their slitted pupils, seemed to glow with an inner light, and her frame was more akin to a predatory animal than a human teenager.

Halsey continued, softer now, "Alba has endured much at the hands of those who sought to play god. She's been... altered. Gene-splicing with polar bear and Siberian tiger DNA has left her with abilities far beyond the ordinary, even for a Spartan."

Linda's heart clenched—not in fear, but in a surge of empathy for the young Spartan. "What do you need from me?"

"I need you to be her mentor, her guide. Alba is strong, yes, but inside, she's struggling. She's been molded to be a weapon, but she's also a young girl who's been thrust into a life she didn't choose."

Linda, absorbing the gravity of Halsey's words, felt a resolve settle within her. "I understand. I'll do it."

Alba, upon their first meeting, was a study in contrasts. Her towering frame and the faint, almost imperceptible snarl of her lips spoke of a creature ready for battle. Yet, her eyes darted around nervously, like those of a cornered animal, betraying her uncertainty and fear.

"Hey, Alba. I'm Linda. I've been where you are. I'm here to help," Linda said, extending a hand in greeting, a small, genuine smile playing on her lips.

Alba's reaction was hesitant; her eyes flickered to Linda's hand, then up to her face, searching. Finding no trace of pity or revulsion, just an open, honest offer of fellowship, Alba slowly extended her own hand, her grip cautious but firm.

"N-Nice to meet you, ma'am..." Alba managed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't... I don't really know how to... to be anything other than what they made me."

Linda smiled, a genuine, reassuring smile. "We'll figure it out together. You're not alone anymore."

Linda felt a weight she hadn't realized she was carrying begin to lift. Here was a chance not just for redemption, but for connection. In guiding Alba, Linda saw a path forward for both of them, a way to reconcile their pasts with a future that was theirs to define. This was more than a mission...

...it was a new beginning.

[thekingwhereitallends]

Boruto: Tenchijin Chapter Three; Tempting the Gods!

Genre: Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Action

Summary: More characters being introduced to the readers and show their growth. That may include living legends and forgotten guardians.

Date:Jan.20th 2042

"I trained you to be much better than this. Come on, not even landing a single hit ruins both your's and my reputation!" Hanabi yells at her pupils who are hyperventilating.

"Are you serious? You have been considered to lead the clan, many said you are the best the hyuga has to offer." Wasabi states.

Wasabi Izuno, standing at one hundred sixty two centimeters tall, she has grown her hair out, now wears sleeveless green jacket with fishnet shirt and grey pants. She is a chunin.

"Firstly, whoever said that has certainly not seen all hyugas in combat. Secondly, I've been holding back against you three." Hanabi asserts.

"You are cutting our ninjutsu in half like butter. We can't break through your rotation technique and there's not a single one of us who can cast a genjutsu on you strong enough that your byakugan would not help you see through the illusions." Namida claims.

Namida Suzumeno, one hundred fifty four centimeters tall, wearing crop-top brown and white jacket and black fishnet shirt underneath, also brown pants with white linings. She's been promoted to chunin rank.

"So hop-" Hanabi is cut off, begins to spit blood and grunt.

A sword found it's way through neck and pummels her to the ground, leaving a pool of blood.

It's Tsubaki who was waiting for the right time to catch her mentor offguard using the weak spot of byakugan to her advantage.

Tsubaki Kurogane, one hundred sixty centimeters tall, has finally succeeded Mifune as leader of samurai and wields his kurosawa blade. She's a tokubetsu jonin, specializing in kenjutsu. She wears an armor now, with the same color palette of white, black and pink.

The girls are in shock, terrified of Hanabi whose body shivers uncontrollably.

They turn to Tsubaki and frown at him with a displeased expression.

"I know that's a shadow clone but why being so vicious?" Wasabi says.

"Couldn't you knock her down with sheath of your sword?" Namida asks.

"Don't scold me. She did hit a nerve." Tsubaki responds, sighing.

"That's was a clean hit." A voice comes from Hanabi's side. It's sinister and like the demons in horror movies people watch in the cinema if one asked the teen girls to describe it.

The injured Hanabi stands up, her sclreae turning black slowly and byakugan having red color, the girls get spooked upon seeing her in such a terrifying state.

"Geeze, she's gonna suck the soul out of us." Wasabi speculates, trembling.

"Please spare me..." Namida begs Hanabi, rivers streaming down from her eyes.

"Make it a quick death." Tsubaki says, sitting on her knees, offering her sword to her mentor.

Hanabi stands infront of Tsubaki, grabs her student's sword in hands and takes the kenjutsu stance. "Any last words, little girl?"

"Let my friends go." Tsubaki says, shutting her eyes.

"A woman of honour... How admirable." Hanabi responds. "Your wish is granted."

Hanabi swings the sword as Wasabi and Namida scream for her to stop just so the surrounding area transforms and they realize they have been trapped in genjutsu.

"Oi." Hanabi groans, pinching Tsubaki's ear and lifts her up. "You are too reckless."

"There's no rule in fighting. Isn't that what you taught us?" Tsubaki cries, trying to escape Hanabi's grasp.

"Cheeky brat." Hanabi lets go of Tsubaki.

"I bet that was one of coolest things you've ever seen in your life?" Tsubaki asks Hanabi, who stares at her with widened eyes, pouting.

Everyone looks at Hanabi who has locked eyes on Tsubaki, and after a few seconds they all burst to laughter.

"I must admit you looked badass when you stabbed me in the neck inside my genjutsu." Hanabi confesses, pushing Tsubaki away.

"Your dracula transformation was gorgeous!" Says Namida who pinches her fingers and thumb, kisses them and dramatically tosses them away from her lips.

"We are bunch of deranged ninjas who must be locked in asylum!" Iwabe claims, grinning.

Hanabi then remembers her sister who used to laugh with her, together they had so many precious moments.

"You all better be ready the next time because i won't go easy on you." The smile on Hanabi's face fades and he starts to walk away from her students.

"Was our performance that bad?" Namida wonders.

"No. You did well." Hanabi responds.

"Take care of yourself, Sensei." Wasabi shouts.

"Yeah..." Hanabi says, thoughts filling her mind.

'Big sis...' Hanabi looks at the sky, the moon visible in the afternoon. 'Forgive me for not being there to save you...'

Hanabi sits on a bench in a park, wearing a sad smile on her face. 'Tsubasa-kun, don't you dare die on me...' Hanabi thinks, squeezing her eyes shut.

Hanabi might appear to be flirtatious and naughty but she had only developed romantic feeling for one person who never desired to be in any love affair: Tsubasa Emiya. Ever since she was a child, Hanabi was interested in Tsubasa for being the mysterious, idealistic and virtuous champion he is.

Tsubasa did complimented her, told her that she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, but he never developed romantic feelings for or sexual attraction towards Hanabi. He still didn't wish to break her heart, and Hanabi didn't want to give up on him.

.

.

.

"Woah!" Metal Lee cries staring at the boy in white and blue armor levitating in the sky.

Metal Lee, one hundred seventy five centimeters tall, wearing the same clothes of his father Rock Lee, now significantly less anxious than he was as a child. He's a tokubetsu jonin who specializes in taijutsu.

"What's that? A sorta anti-gravity technology?" Iwabe shouts.

Iwabe Yuino, one hundred eighty one centimeters tall, now a bit more buffed and muscular. He carries a long staff on his back. He's currently a tokubetsu jonin specializing in Bojutsu.

"Nope!" Denki lands on earth and starts walking toward Iwabe and Metal. "There's no such thing in physics. And yes, i know i'm a ninja who can do magic tricks but please let me explain the mechanism in simple terms."

Denki Kaminarimon, one hundred sixty six centimeters tall, he has grown a longer ponytail and his bangs now reach his jawline. Denki has a higher-rank than his teammates as he's been promoted to jonin after his accompolishments as a scientist that are considered to be revolutionary, but also his progress in all categories.

"I'll pretend i can compehend what's gonna come out of your mouth." Iwabe states.

"Is the explanation gonna be that complex?" Metal asks Denki.

"Ah, imagine that the inertial mass of an object is the tendecy of matter to stay where it is and resist acceleration. Gravitational weight has two aspects: a mass experiences a force in presence of a gravity field, and it also produces a gravity field itself. Mass-Energy is the general relativity which says that you get tons of energy by converting mass into energy. Usually in these equations, the objects have positive mass. Now can you guess just what happens if objects have negative mass?" Denki explains, leaving Iwabe and Metal dumbfounded.

"It would defy gravity, i think?" Iwabe responds, breaking a sweat.

"A negative mass in gravitational field will experience a force in opposite direction from the source of the force, producing negative grativational field which repels the other object with positive mass instead of attracting it. If both objects produces equal forces then there is no acceleration... which means there is no motion. My body is source of energy and the armor converts it into negative mass of desired proportions which allows me to travel at incredible speeds." Denki explains.

"But you will run out of chakra pretty quickly like this." Metal says.

"I have thought about that beforehand. Borrowing Katasuke-senpai's technology and modifying it, I can now absorb ninjutsu and even nature energy. I will spend some of my time transfering my chakra into this armor in case i need it for a mission. I can last three days on battlefield if i have to." Denki responds.

"I bet you have installed other stuff too." Iwabe assumes.

"Hehe." Denki giggles.

"Damn, bro just became the strongest of our generation." Iwabe shouts loudly.

"Maybe fifth or sixth on the list. I have a long way to go." Denki replies, scratching his nose.

"At least you are the smartest." Metal says.

"Regarding quantum physics, chemistry, mathematics, computer engineering, computer science and information technology yes i am indeed on the top." Denki asserts.

"I totally believe you." Metal says, while Iwabe is left jawdropped.

'I knew he's a bookworm but this is insane. No wonder Shikamaru considered Denki to have higher IQ than him.' Iwabe thinks.

"Boys!" Udon calls his pupils, who turn around immediately and bow to him. "That's a nice armor you wear, Denki."

"Oh this? It's not an ideal design. But yeah, thank you so much." Denki responds, smiling.

"Are you planning to become otsutsuki hunter or something?" Iwabe asks Denki.

"No, haha. I just want it to be functional and fix some minor problems." Denki answers.

"I don't want you to talk about that." Metal says, with horrified expression on his face.

"Me neither." Iwabe agrees as he's broken into sweats since Denki talked about the science fields he excells at.

"You are assigned to a S-rank mission. Here." Udon says, using a smartwatch invented by Denki himself called ElectroStorm in order to send the data to his team who have smartwatches around their wrists. "Let's go."

.

.

.

"Orochimaru-sama, i think we have found the whereabouts of Toneri Otsutsuki." A gentle and youthful voice emanates from an elegant lady dressed in a black cloak, her eyes glow in the dark room and make her appearance known.

Seina Shakudõ, fourty one years old, standing at one hundred sixty centimeters tall, she has a tender and lean frame, long wavy copper red hair, turquoise colored orbs and a nostril piercing on left side of her nose, she is of fair complexion and her skin has a tint of pale peach pink. She wears a dark green and black dress underneath her cloak and has polished her nails in black.

Originally a kunoichi of takigakure who was born with wood style kekkei genkai due to random genetic mutation that made her especially versatile and superior to her peers, Seina was indeed a prodigy who was not fond of the cruel world created by ninjas. Withdrawn and inward-looking, Seina has always sought peace in nature, and her calm presence allows her to approach the deadliest animals and bond with them, she is even capable of communicating with them through means of telepathy.

However, there is a contrasting belief which defines Seina and she blames it on her weirdness. Seina in her childhood was captivated by the tales she heard about Orochimaru and studied his philosophy and had researches on him. As a fan of fantasy novels, Lord of Darkness represented three aesthetic character tropes that she was obsessed with: goth, mad scientist and vampire.

Since Orochimaru was feared as the most notorious criminal on the planet, and Seina was surely not fond of the genocides her favorite ninja was committing. After fourth shinobi world world war's conclusion, Seina learnt that Orochimaru hadn't received death penalty because of him assisting the shinobi alliance by reanimated the hokage and also his possession of unparalled knowledge, Seina was hesitant and asked herself if heading toward otogakure is in accordance to her morals or not.

Seina visited Orochimaru and asked him to accept her as his apprentince, and Orochimaru was amused by her courage and the mysterous essence of her's, found her to be a very pleasant company over the course of time. Seina was wary of Orochimaru's ambitions and looked for a hint of malevolence in his eyes, but she figured that his heart had softened and he had no desire to return to his old methods.

"He's been sealed away, is that correct?" Orochimaru speculates, taking a sip from their cup of tea.

"Log-kun had been looking for his presence in the past three weeks, and figured that Toneri has been imprisoned in dragon king's palace. Nevertheless, it seems to be impossible for your eldest son to tear the fabric of space-time for unknown reasons. It must be protected by one of the gods you occassionaly speak of." Seina suggests.

"I presume Karin's adamantine chains are not effective then." Orochimaru utters.

"Sadly not. Jugo-kun, Suigetsu-kun and i tried to force our way through it, but the barrier seems to be impenetrable." Seina says.

"What is that made of?" Jugo wonders, going back to his human form, heavily panting.

"Aren't you supposed to be descendant of a sea god or something?" Karin asks Suigetsu, falling on her knees.

"Descendant of a tough dude who lived in ancient times, babe! This perfect being right here can't do shit, what do you expect from a lazy swordsman like me?" Suigetsu retorts as he's turned into a small pool of water, Log who is lying on the floor lifts his head to glare at the swordsman of the mist.

"Get lost." Log responds, not even bothering to mention that he was the only one capable of sensing Toneri's presence who was located in another dimension that was possibly protected against psychic powers with a barrier technique of elder gods.

"Stop it you all. This is going far beyond just awkward and hilarious." Yoruza claims while sitting cross-legged, and moans after so much chakra she had used up.

Yoruza Hozuki, Suigetsu Hozuki's and Karin's pale-skinned and redheaded daughter with violet eyes and neck-length hair. Yoruza is fifteen years old, has a muscular frame, stands at one hundred seventy centimeters. She is skilled in swordsmanship, medical ninjutsu and sealing arts. In contrast to her parents who are outgoing and extroverted, Yoruza is introverted and shiftless, but has inherited her father's sardonic sense of humour and her mother's short fuse.

"How troublesome." Orochimaru put their cup on the table and rise on their feet.

"I can tell that you know a solution already." Seina asserts, licking her lips.

"I just know. I can't do anything about it." Orochimaru mutters, gets past Seina, who follows their lead. "No one can."

'If only he was here...' Seina thinks as she is walking behind the greatest of legendary sannin. 'Please... play it safe... Tsubasa-kun...'

During her early days as Orochimaru's apprentice, Seina had the chance to meet Sasuke Uchiha who visited his former mentor for guidance and preparations in case his wife bears his child.

Tsubasa, who was eleven years old at the time, was partnered with Sasuke, caught Seina's eyes. Seina was often annoyed by kids and considered them to be annoying, but Tsubasa was different, reminded her of herself. Polite and sarcastic, Tsubasa radiated confidence and humility, and was phlegmatic about socialization and instead lingered in solitude to attain a superior self-awareness.

Tsubasa's supernatural intuition drew him towards Seina, perceived her as a girl who not only shares similar interests with him but is also wise, considerate and reserved. Tsubasa was an author and Seina an illustrator. Seina was fascinated by Tsubasa's personality and how he mirrored her in various ways while retaining his mysterious essense. Seina was there for Tsubasa when he was down at times, perhaps he was often far away from her and expressed his feelings in unorthodox manners, she knew he loved her.

For Tsubasa, Seina was an angel sent from heavens to balm her wounded heart. A bright star in the darkest nights of his life.

"May i contract Sarada-chan and Mitsuki-kun?" Seina asks her master.

"They are already hard-pressed. I'm afraid i have no choice but to tempt the gods! Fufufu..." Orochimaru let out a mischevious laughter that puts a smile on Seina's face.