#this made me laugh and want to tear my eyes out in equal measure :'D

[ditzyredrobin]

Life, Love, and Assassin’s

I can’t begin to express how happy and full my heart is from the response to my last fic. So much so that I wrote my longest fic to date.

Thank you so much everyone and I hope you enjoy this one just as much as I have. 💜

Here another prompt from my BTH Bingo card.

Prompt: Don’t You Dare Pity Me

-

“Don’t you dare pity me,” Jason snarls, jabbing a finger in his direction. “I don’t want to hear it from Dick or Bruce and I certainly don’t want to hear it from you, replacement.”

He’s never seen Jason like this before, not in this state of barely holding himself together, eyes glassy as he tries to fight back tears.

The Joker is intense (even for him), but they did their best to keep he and Jason apart. Truthfully, he’s not sure he has ever caught the aftermath of one of their run-in’s. Jason was normally gone by the time the sitch was handled, off to do whatever one does after coming face to face with your murderer when you couldn’t kill them yourself.

This time had been different. Tim had seen the hit, seen him go down, and struggled to get up. Until he knew he was okay, he wasn’t going to leave. Or, well, didn’t want to leave.

Tracking Jason down had been fairly easy, for him, at least. At this point he had the majority of his sibling’s safe houses mapped out all across Gotham as a precautionary measure. (The few he didn’t have figured out yet, he was working on.)

There had been two about equidistant from the scene, making it essentially a coin of toss as to which he would have gone to.

Apparently luck was on his side because he got it on the first go.

Well, really, depending on Jason’s reaction, he was either extremely lucky or he’d just won himself an all expenses paid trip to pound town. Knowing Jason, either was equally as likely.

When he slipped in, the blinds were drawn leaving a sliver of light from the street lights peaking between the blinds. His eyes were decent enough in the dark due to his extracurriculars, but her still had to squint. Jason was slumped over the couch, with his helmet and holsters on the coffee table, holding an instant to his shoulder.

Tim arches a brow sticking close to the window he’d come in through. Not close enough to make Jason feel cornered in his compromised state, but enough so it was easy to flee, if needed. “Who says I was going to give you it? Because it wasn’t.”

Jason snorts, his face blotchy and red and his breath hasn’t quite evened out yet. “You know I literally died, right? Beat with a crow bar, blown to high heaven, and all shit.”

“So?”

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean ‘so’?”

Tim shrugged nonchalantly, trying to pretend like his heart was thundering in his chest. If he didn’t play his cards right, this could all go to hell in an instant. “Death is practically a right of passage, just because you died first doesn’t make you special. Steph died too and you don’t hear her complain about it.”

“Dude,” Jason says, deadpan. “She literally fucking brought it up yesterday. You were in the room.”

Tim frowned, “Are you sure? I’m pretty sure I would remember my ex-girlfriend bringing up one of the most significant, life altering, earth shattering events of my life for the lolz.”

“Well, you better build a bridge and get over it because it happened.”

“You must be mistaken because that’s not something Stephanie would do.” (It was absolutely something Stephanie would do.)

“Are you implying I just made up the whole conversation to troll you?” Jason’s voice is starting to lose that brittle edge, dissipating into exasperation.

“No, what I’m trying to say is you’re wrong.” Tim says, shifting on the balls of his feet. “To be fair, it wouldn’t be the first time. Have you had any neuro cognitive testing done recently? Maybe the brain trauma is finally catching up to you ?”

He’s not sure if Jason is going to blow a fuse, laugh, or punch him in the face. “You are not you trying to fucking gaslight me in my own home. ”

Okay, so, maybe it’s option D: All of the above.

“What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Jason asks incredulously. “What I think is you’re a little shit.”

Tim shrugs, “I’m rubber, you’re glue~”

Jason rolls his eyes. “You’re such a dick, you know that?”

“It’s maybe been mentioned once or twice. All I’m saying is dying doesn’t give you special privileges which includes my pity. I won’t give it to Dick, why would I give it to you?”

“Dude, that should get me all of the special privileges. Dying isn’t exactly easy you know and then in a dip in the Pit.”

“Who is this family member who hasn't died in one way or another? Name one.” Tim replies easily. “Again, dying is practically a right of passage at this point. It doesn’t make you special.”

Jason, Steph, Dick, Damian, Bruce, the list goes on. He had lived through them all, grieved them all but he wouldn’t tell Jason that.

“You.” Jason says simply, not even taking a moment to think over his answer. “You are one of the only family members who hasn’t died.”

Not exactly the only one but he wouldn’t correct it. Plus, he had almost died after being stabbed by The Widower. That should count for something.

“That’s because I’m built different.” Tim says easily, earning a scoff from Jason. “Ra’s has my pickled spleen on a shelf somewhere so I think that earns me vigilante points.”

Jason makes a sound like a game show buzzer, “Wrong answer. You earn zero points, trying again next time.”

Tim rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “He wants to make me the heir to the League.” He argues, deadpan. “As in the League of Assassins.”

Jason shrugs, leaning back into the sofa, some of the tension finally draining from his shoulders. He drops the ice pack into his lap. His eyes look more aware of his surroundings and Tim, less distant than when he’d first come in. “Been there, done that, and they didn’t even give me a T-shirt.”

“My spleen, Jason.”

“At least they didn’t take you for a swim because let me tell you, that shit fucking sucks.”

He thinks back on the moment he’d woken up in The Cradle, sore from his splenectomy, the fear that he’d been given an involuntary swim himself. It was a surprise that Ra’s hadn’t taken advantage of him considering all of the pining.

Then again, he’d also kicked Tim out a high rise window, so….

The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

He wouldn’t tell Jason about the shadows Ra’s sent after him periodically as a reminder of what (in Ra’s’ mind) was to come.

He had it handled. If he needed help, he would ask but he didn’t need it. For right that was his little secret, he had it taken care of.

This secret would, perhaps, be his forever (Bruce would lose his shit he found out—it had been a near enough thing when Tim had finally come out about the whole losing his spleen thing). That’s what he hoped for at least.

Jason’s amusement quickly dissipated as he gives a more serious expression, “What’s wrong? You’re giving me that look again.”

Tim frowned, “What look? I’m not giving you a look.” He tells him with as much assurance as he can muster with his stomach suddenly tying itself in knots.

“Uh, yeah, you are.” Jason tuts. “It’s that blank one where you’re looking through me instead of at me. You might be able to hide it from Dickhead and Daddy Bats, but you know better with me.”

Shit.

Tim waves him off with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“You know what fine stands for right? Fucked up, insecure-“

“Fine, I’m not fine, I’m okay.”

I’ve got it handled.

Jason stares at him for a long moment with scrutinizing expression. “You tell me or I’ll go to Bruce, your choice.”

“You don’t need to go to Bruce, I’ve got it covered—you don’t need my sympathy and I don’t need help.” Tim stresses.

He doesn’t need help. He doesn’t need to get anyone else involved—this was between he and the League.

“So, you admit that weird fuck is doing something.”

“I didn’t say that, Jason, I’m-“

“You say it again and I swear-” Jason warns.

“-okay.” Tim finishes. “I’m okay.”

He was…ish. Once he got Ra’s off his tail would be, he had to build a plan things would be fine. Luckily, he was an excellent tactician even if his intelligence rivaled his. He suspected it wasn’t going to be that easy but he wasn’t used to easy.

Nothing about being a vigilante was easy.

Jason rolls his neck, attempting to sit up straight again with a wince. Even sitting, Jason was built like a tank, stronger and bulkier than he was (even without the padding in his suit).

And it seems like his time had officially run out. Tim takes a hesitant step towards the window, his hand creeping towards his bo staff. He may be out of arms length, but not leaping range. His body wasn’t the best in the small apartment but it would at least buy him enough time to holding Jason off and run.

The weight of it in his hand also brought him a sense of security, if he had his bo, he was safe.

But, to his surprise, Jason doesn’t pursue him. He doesn’t move up from the couch or reach for his hand guns as expected. What he does is more threatening.

All while staring him down, Jason reaches into his pocket and pulls out his comm. His heart comes to a dead haunt, eyes widening. “You don’t want to tell me, I’m serious about going to Bruce. I’m not going to let you get yourself killed because you’re too proud to ask for him.”

Tim swallows hard, “You can’t tell him.”

Jason lifts one brow, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t tell Daddy Bat’s and I’ll think about it.”

Because it’s my fight.

Because it’s my fault.

Because I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.

“I just…I can’t. It’s not pride, it's just my own issue.” Not yours.

Obviously not an acceptable enough answer because Jason places it in his ear and presses the receiver to activate it. “This is your final warning—fess up or I’ll sick Dickie on you.”

Now that was a threat he knew Jason would make good on.

When did this conversation go from Jason’s issues to his own?

Tim was caught between wanting to puke and wanting to scream. On one hand, getting Jason involved might help, on the other Ra’s may take it as a sign to up the ante. This was between them.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” Tim concedes softly, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure what will happen if he knows someone else is involved.”

“If anyone should get involved, it should be me. I think you underestimate my ability to take care of myself.” Jason says seriously. “Plus I’ve got a bone to pick with those bastards.”

He can’t look at Jason, so he stares at the wall just above his head, not focusing on anything in particular. He lets his vision go blurry. “I have it handled, seriously.”

Jason rolls his eyes, “You said that already. Try again. What has he done to you?”

It takes everything in Tim not to fidget under the intensity of Jason’s gaze. “He-“his voice cracks and he winces, clearing his throat. “He’s sent shadows after me…multiple times.”

Jason’s expression is hard to read, but for a second he imagines he can see a flash of something like disappointment in his eye. “I take it it’s been more than once?”

There’s a pang of guilt in his chest. “Yes.”

There’s something about disappointing Jason that sends a cold wash of shame over him. While he’s alway been Dick’s number one fan, Jason was the Robin he had followed the longest through the streets of Gotham.

He’s the one that taught him to be brave in the face of fears and when he had died, his grief for the dead Robin was insurmountable, washing over him in waves for days.

Forcing Bruce’s hand and taking on the mantle of Robin wasn’t an easy decision. Some days the full force of his grief was almost unbearable, to the point where he didn’t want to run the gauntlet anymore. He wanted to was no Jason—he was just that, a replacement.

But, in those moments, he remembered Jason’s courage and bravery. He remembered how deeply Jason had cared for this city and civilians, and pushed himself.

Jason was his idol and letting him down…it hurt.

“You’re giving me that look again,” Jason sighed. “I’m not mad—okay, well, actually, I’m pissed, but not the point I’m trying to make. How many times, Tim?”

Uh-oh, now he’s done it. He didn’t use one of Tim’s many (many) nicknames, meaning this, this just hit oh shit levels of serious.

“Five in the past three months.”

Jason curses under his breath. “And you haven’t said anything? To anyone?”

“I had it handled.” Tim says simply with a shrug, like it’s that easy. “So far they haven’t been out to kill. An educated guess says they’re only out to keep me on my toes, rough me up as a reminder that they have plans for me.”

“And what if their instructions change? What if you don’t call for help and they actually go for the kill.”

Tim grimaces, “I’ll figure it out.”

“Of course you’d say that, always figuring shit out by yourself.” Jason mocks, pushing himself to his feet. This time Tim does reach for his bo, placing his finger over the release. One swift press of a button and it would spring to its full length. “Je-sus, I’m not going to hurt you. I just—you drive me up a fucking wall, you feel me? This one man act is bullshit. You need help, you call me.”

Tim blinks, “What?”

For the nth time in as many minutes, Jason rolls his eyes. “I said, you need help and don’t feel like dealing with the smother hens, you call me. Don’t call Dick or Bruce, I will always come for you. Got it?”

“No?”

“What do you mean no?” Jason snaps. “You’re supposed to be the smart Robin. I didn’t think you were that fucking dense.”

“That’s not-“ Tim shook his head, taking a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth, before starting again. “What I mean is why do you want to help? You could get hurt.”

“Because someone has to. At least, if it’s me, I’ll know someone’s got your back.”

Tim stared at him for a long moment. How they had gone from hating each other's guts to Jason having his back was confusing and…welcome.

It eased his nerves just a little.

“Alright.” Tim says cautiously.

Is he going to regret this decision? Probably but for now… it’s okay. Weird, but okay.

“Good, now get out. I don’t know if you can tell but I’ve had a shit night.” Jason says, and, like a switch being flicked, he’s back to his usual grumbly self.

Without a word, Tim goes to slide open the window. He’s a little flustered and not quite sure what to say.

“Oh, and, Timantha?”

And Jason was definitely back.

Tim rolled his eyes, looking back to Jason. “What?”

“Call me or I’ll kick your ass.”

[myimmortalstalker]

Chapter 33

“oh my fuking god!1” I shooted sadly. “Shud we get u to Doc, bitch?”

“Hel no!” he said. “Lizzen Stretlok, I need ur help. Nex tim u go bak in tim, do u fink u kod ask Mitka Dynamite 4 sum help?”

“Sure I said sadly. I went outside the door. Scar was there!111 He wuz wearing a big blak stolker suit which wuz his trench coat.

“Hey Sexxy.” I said.

“How’d it go Stelok?” he asked in his voice was so sexy and low kinda like a snork’s growl when they attack.

“Fine.” I reponded. We stared 2 go bak in2 da bar.

“How far did u go wif Slutan?” Scar asked jealously.

“Not 2 far, lol.” I borked.

“Will you hav to do it with him?” Scar asked angstily.

“I hop not 2 far!111” I shouted angrily. Den I felt bad 4 shooting at him. I said sorry. We frenched.

“What happened to Termo?” I growled.

“U will see.” Scar giggled mistressly. He opened a door… … Termo and Loocash werz there!11  Vermin waz pokering dem by staging dem wif a blak nife.

“NOOOO PLZ!111” Lookaz bagged as Vornin started 2 suk his blood. I laffed statistically. I tok some photons of him and Termo bing torqued. (ok I no dis iz men but fink abot it ppl dey r pervs nd Termo trid 2 rap dem and newat sadiztz rok haz any 1 seen srhak arak 3 lolz). We took sum of Temro’s blod den Scare and I went bak 2 our warehouz. We sato n my goffik blak bedroll. My cloves were kinda drity so I poto n a blak leather outfit fingie like da 1 bnadits use (if u haven’t herd of it den FUK U!111). I puto n some blak combat bootz. Skar put on “squat party”  by Gopnik McBlyat. Den… … … we storted 2 take of each otherz clozez. I tok of his shit nd he had a six-pak, lolz. We started 2 mak out lik always. He pot his wetness in my u-know-what sexily. I gut an orgy.

“Oh Scar!11111!1 Oh mi fuking gud Scar!111” I screemed passively as he gota n eructation.

“I luv u SteTretlok.” he whispred sexily and den we fel aspleep lol.

[katsuflossy]

A Doll’s Palace

Pairing: Hawks x Reader 

TW: Angst, Mentions of maternal death, death, yandere themes, mentions of societal female expectations

A/n:  If it wasn’t for Echo and Mix, would’ve been straight booty cheeks so omg thank y’all for helping me edit this to near perfection ❤❤❤

Taglist: @johariameil @iiminibattlehero @ecao @melanimed​ @mixfi​

Chastity, Purity, Demureness, Divine Feminity: They built your enamored status and innocence in the kingdom of Braavos. A pure noblewoman is seen as the most remarkable feminine icon in society, and you involuntarily became the symbol that many women hated and men looked up to. A curse, your father had called it, as the most beautiful of your family is always the earliest to go, right after birth. Since then, you’ve grown to embody your mother, a face he so loved, and swore on his life that you would never die from a soul exchange as your mother did.

But your marriage with Takami Keigo? A reality every hopeless romantic maiden could only experience through dream. . King ‘Hawks’ was preferred by his people, an esteemed man that led millions to victory in battle with wit and millions of hearts to burst using charm. You were one in a million, the heart that won the golden ticket to strike the hawk’s heart.

Too bad, the reality was shared another lucky heart.

Red silks tailored to your natural measurements; the powdered innocent blush on your face was paralleled to the floor as your brain overflowed with thoughts. Your hands twirled the parchment scroll in your palms, but your eyes remembered the exact words inked on the paper. They jumbled with the script you’ve repeated since the crack of dawn. Midoriya fluttered about the room, making the bed you just laid in and unclogging the once cold bathwater made for you to look more ‘youthful.’ A simple day in the Crystal Queen’s life.

“Izuku?” Your manservant ceased his movement, eagerly giving his attention to you.

“Yes, my Queen?” His eyes tried to reach yours; however, they remained on the paper within your hands, slightly crinkled from when your restraint broke.

“You would tell me when I am wrong” Your irises slowly slid to his frame; pupils almost swallowed into the depths of your eye color. A shiver ran down his back . “right?”

“Y-yes, my Queen.” He didn’t dare to flinch under your gaze, which stared at him longer than what was comfortable. You ended your stare by closing your eyes, giving him a wide smile before rising from your love seat, slipping the parchment in your sleeve. Your steps passed straight by his still frozen figure until they had reached the door frame.

“Midoriya, my faithful servant.” Your voice echoed through the room like a skillful siren. His attention remained on you as you continued to speak.

“I want you in the main dining hall by eight on the dot. Please don’t be late.” You left before he could properly bow at your command.

The barren halls laughed at you, pricking your mentality, forming pairs of figures every few columns you passed. A maid was pressed against the left column just a while ago, arms wrapped around the pale neck of your husband, his arms around her peasant waist.

The one you just passed? The same maid laid her hands on Keigo’s face, smoothing out his goatee’s hairs, and he allowed her to.

The entrance of the dining hall up ahead held your heart’s worst fear. An exchange of breath, love, and intimacy that should be sacred between those wedded. Your mind pictured the peacock vase at the entrance shattering on your behalf, impaling the two’s skin. The imaginary screams were like wine to your ears as you finally entered the hall.

The area was warmed by the marble light of the great chandelier,everything was covered with the golden gleam, hiding the little splatters of deep red in the floor. A mint haired maid captured your attention.

“Your Majesty? I apologize, but the dining room is not finished for tonight’s dinner.” Her brown eyes stared at you nervously; her chubby cheek showed where her teeth bit into its flesh.

“Oh, no worries, I am just looking for now.” The fake smile stuck itself to your face as you examined the long dining table. Only a handful of food were fixated on the top.

“You make excellent food here, Cara. What beautiful carvings in the baby carrots.” You quirked up, noticing she stiffed at your last words.

“Of course, my work is only done best for you, y-your Majesty.” Your practiced laugh came through the room, instilling superficial relief in the maid.

“But I must ask, are you eating some as you cook? You’ve gotten wider in the last months.” Your hand took her chin; curious eyes roamed her plump face as she blushed by the attention.

“Haha, y-yes, I’ve been eating a little more than usual.” Her gaze shuffled to anywhere but you. She was such a terrible liar.

“As long as you’re not eating for two.” You threw your head back; melodious laughter exhausted your stomach pit. Cara barely joined in with her nervous laughter, face breaking red in embarrassment.

“Did I hear my little bird’s beautiful laughter?” The kingly presence broke into the room. Which one? You kept your tongue as Keigo wrapped you into a kiss, which sadly set your heart on fire. Your lips separated, trained eye watching as his own sneakily trailed to the kitchen maid. Your smile dulled before brightening .

“My King, I have exciting news for you.” Your face snuggled into his palm on your cheek. Hawks eyes gleamed like the most gilded of plates.

“Hm? Well, love, don’t keep me on my toes. Let me hear it.” You relished in his arms wrapped around your midsection before pulling out of his embrace, bopping him on the nose.

“That’s the purpose.o keep you anxious until the grand reveal.” Your smile started to burn your cheeks as you watched the room’s bustle, preparing for a grand disaster.

Violins and Cellos played throughout the dining hall as the dinner began. The long table set with food separated you and Keigo, each taking the farthest end. Playful looks and banters were exchanged between the two as the servants lined against the walls, ready for even the most subtle commands. After laughing at one of Keigo’s pun, you clapped, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Well, it was all a joyous evening, but I must bring attention to the evening’s highlight: the surprise.” Hawks quirked up in curiosity. The rest of the maids and Midoriya exchanged curious glances but did not say a word. You rose from your seat, hand gliding across the table’s surface.

“As you know, I am a lady of chastity, not by will, but by curse.” Your steps drew closer to your king.

“My father wishes nothing of seeing me carrying a little one. You, my king, are a young man, one who’s drive is active. A man who wishes to grow old with children around as you said at our first ball.” You were only a mere meter away from his seated figure, close enough to watch his adam’s apple bob in nervousness.

“Yes? But my little bird, why is this such an important announcement.”

“Be patient, my love. I am getting to that.” You were half a meter away from him now; his brow held the slightest furrow in them. Cara shuffled in the corner of your eye.

“Well, I begged my father, being of a monogamous nation, and it was hard. Harems were long abandoned in the kingdom of Braavos, but I did it.” You pulled from your sleeves the parchment paper and gave it to Keigo, whose eyes were full of anxiety. He opened the scroll to read.

“In the Kingdom of Fukuoka, the King will have the privilege of a harem, up to 20 women. He will be able to officially appear with them at balls, sleep with them, and—” his eyes flicker to you with shock before rereading what was written. “—procreate with them.”

You smiled before pointing to the end of the paper.

“Only if the Queen, rightfully crowned and inaugurated, is given the parenthood of all children birthed by the harem. The Queen will also be able to have a harem of her own, whether sexually or not.”

Hawks’ wings rose, eyes looking at you in disbelief. You lifted his face close to yours.

“Don’t worry, love. I only have eyes for you. Though,what happened to equality and freedom? The two things you fight for?” Your eyes flickered to Cara, whose face was red with anger. Keigo already took the pen from your sleeves and signed the paper.

“S-stop! This law c-can’t pass !” Her voice broke the cheery atmosphere, riddling it with confusion. The maids began to whisper frantically. You rose a brow at her outburst.

“And why is that? You have no say in royal affairs, kitchen maid.” Her eyes began to water, falling down her fat cheeks onto her fabric.

“P-please, d-don’t take my baby.” The room fell deadly silent after her plea. You ripped your hands from Hawks’ body, face morphing in shock.

“What do you mean, ‘your baby’?” Your eyes turned to Hawks, who sat silent. You could see the gears turning in his head to construct a lie.

“Hawks. What does she mean ‘your baby’?” His gears steamed before stopping abruptly, giving up on filing an excuse. His hands reached out to hold you.

“I can explain.” You moved quickly out of his range before halting him in his tracks.

“You can explain? Do you know how embarrassing that is to me? If it’s true, you’ve been cheating on me for months! Knowing that I couldn’t even bear for you!” Your heart pained you as the night you found out, reliving the shock and betrayal over again.

You were breaking character. Taking a deep breath, you turned away from your husband, a tear slowly streaking your face.

“We’ll talk about this when there aren't any spectators. Cara, bring out the special wine I’ve asked you to make for the celebration. I hope you two are happy.” Cara still stood on the spot, by fear and resistance. You turned to her; wide eyes staring straight into her soul.

“Now.” She ran to the kitchen, hand over mouth to hide her whimpers.

“Midoriya, help the pregnant lady out. It’ll be a shame if she broke her back or something.” Midoriya jumped up, running in the same direction as Cara.

“(Y/n), let me explain please—”

“There is nothing to explain; just enjoy your wine and celebrate.” The bitter sarcasm rolling off your tongue in waves. Cara and Midoriya entered the hall. Her eyes strong with will and face wiped of tears. Midoriya poured the wine for Hawks, filling his chalice to the brim. The winged king sighed and took an immediate gulp. You immediately turned to Cara, your eyes evoking sadness.

“I can’t even be in the same place as you two right now.” You stormed out of the dining room, leaving only the sounds of your shoes hitting the floor.

The candle lights flickered as Hawks entered your shared bedroom, dressed and cleaned for bed. You sat on your loveseat from the afternoon, now twirling a diamond ring on your finger. As he stood in front of you, your eyes remained on your hand.

“My love please forgive m—”

“Why?” You looked up at him; pupils dilated.

“Why should I?” He stepped back, startled to see the pain he had inflicted on you. He stared into your wide eyes for a moment longer until he knelt down, knees touching the red carpet’s wool. His hands clasped your own stopping the continuous twirl of your marriage symbol before wetting his dry lips.

“For a young royal bachelor, I was loved by all types of power-hungry men and women; they flocked me with compliments, ideas, whispers, promises. But you, you were the one that saw who I was behind my status, a young boy who lost his parents. A coward put into the place of a king before he could even blink. You saw the real me, and still, you didn’t turn away. We both embrace our vulnerabilities from each other, and if—” His Adam's apple bobbed, throat restricting as a tear fell from his eye. You shuffled in discomfort, your own tears brimming at his speech.

“—if I could take back what I had done, I would do so immediately, within a heartbeat. But she bears my child, and I...I can’t leave it as my father left me.” His neck strained to look up at you, forcing himself not to choke down a cry.

You laid your other hand on his own. Your tears were staining your cheek as you nodded your head frantically, taking him in your arms. He pulled you into a kiss, minty breath intertwining with your own as the candle flames swayed with the emotions.

The scream you let out in the morning had maids and guards rushing to your room. King Takami Keigo was found dead after you both went to sleep. Few hours from the coroner revealed he died of poison.

You walked down the winding stairs of the dungeon with Midoriya by your side. The last cell held a meager amount of light, only showing the mint green hair of Cara. She jumped at the sounds of your footsteps. You ambled up until the bars could touch your toes.

“To kill your very own king is a crime punishable by death.” She wracked in the chains, trying to get closer to you.

“I didn’t kill him! I swear it wasn’t me!”

“It wasn’t you?” You took the chalice from Midoriya, holding it up to the ceiling as if you were inspecting it.

“This was the last thing he consumed before coming to bed, so the maids say.” Your eyes turned back to the ex-kitchen maid who burst into tears; head bowed in shame.

“Everything has pointed to you, but I understand. I’d kill if the love of my life betrayed me too. I’d use the same exact poison too, Aqua Tofana, the famous poison used by many hurt women to end their lovers.” Her head creaked back to your figure, eyes widening with the growing smirk on your face.

“Although the law states you should serve immediate death, I don’t want that precious baby to go along with you. It’s my last semblance of Keigo, after all. So, as Queen of Fukuoka, I have decided to spare you until the baby has been born. You will stay in this jail cell with ample nursing so my child will be born safe and healthy. That is all.”

You and Midoriya left the dark dungeon, Cara’s screams echoing through the hollow area. Your smirk never softening as you climbed up the stairs, hand still holding Keigo's chalice.

Midoriya laid anxious the whole time. After all, he was guilty of killing the king, adding the poison to the wine when Cara wasn’t looking. His silence finally broke.

“My Queen? Why did you make me...do that?” You halted your steps, pondering as you looked at the golden chalice.

“Keigo would’ve never loved me again. She gave him what I couldn’t, a child to love. He would’ve rather played father with an actual mother, a mother who’d know how to love a child. So I had to stop that before I lost my throne.” Your fingers skimmed the actual feather-covered by gold on the cup, feeling its ridges and bumps.

“Izuku?”

“Yes, my Queen?”

“You would tell me when I’m wrong, right?

“Yes, my Queen.”

[inosukki]

splish splash, hinata shoyo.

synopsis: taking a bath with hinata!

just a little background <3

you met hinata through your job where you both work in food delivery

the first time you guys met his eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open and you could’ve sworn he whispered “pretty...”

the two of you didn’t really talk much, but you liked him enough (he was super sweet and hyper and despite speaking two different languages, he always made an effort to talk to you)

but during that one time where he got lost while trying to deliver food, he called you on the verge of tears asking if you could pick him up

all you heard were the words “lost”, “wallet”, and “help”

BUT HE WAS LITERALLY ZERO HELP BC HE HAD NO CLUE WHERE HE WAS,, he tried explaining his location in broken portuguese which was literally shit but you managed to find him after like an hour

after that incident you became attached at the hip

and he eventually asked you out on a date which led to you dating for almost eight months now

NOW THAT WE HAVE THAT OVER WITH

right now you’re relaxing at your apartment after a long shift

you live alone but ever since you started dating hinata would literally come over five times a week (mostly unannounced)

and as much as you love him you also love your alone times so you’re having a blast just walking around half naked eating a bag of slightly-stale chips

that is until you hear your doorbell ring😁

“[Y/NNNNNNNN]!!!”

rip your peace and quiet❤️ it will be missed

at the familiar voice, you place your food on the table and quickly slip on a large shirt to cover up your bare body

“[Y/N]??? ARE YOU THERE?” he whispers, or at least tries to whisper. it came out more as a light screech

“i’m coming, shoyo. one second” you call, adjusting your hair that had become a mess from you putting on your shirt

you opened your door, revealing a panting hinata

“[Y/N]!” he cries, pulling you into a bone crushing hug. “i missed you!”

“we saw eachother like five hours ago...” you snorted, returning the hug with equal enthusiasm

he ignored your comment and instead flopped onto your coach with a loud groan

“my whole body hurts!” he whines, his voice being muffled by the cushions of your sofa. “beach volleyball is so hard!”

you kneel down in front of him, letting your fingers run through his finger hair

hmm... what could ease his pain

oh!! a bath!!

“do you want me to run you a bath? i have some epsom salt and marjoram oil for your aches...”

his head pops up from the cushions, eyes twinkling

“AH! YOU WOULD DO THAT FOR ME [Y/N]-CHAN? THANK YOU SO MUCH!”

you nodded shyly, excusing yourself to the bathroom to prepare his bath. you let the faucet run, adjusting the temperature in between ‘hot’ and ‘cold.’ you scooped a cup of epsom salt and sprinkled it over the warm water, waving your hands under the surface for good measure. then, you dropped bit of the essential oil and let the scent linger

once you were satisfied with your work, you called your boyfriend to the bathroom and turned off the faucet

he comes in with his shirt halfway off, struggling to get it over his head

biting your lip to hold back a laugh, you gently slipped it over his head and gestured to the bath

“it’s ready”

you watch his facial expression and notice he seems upset

oh no

did you mess up??? was the smell too strong?

“no bubbles?” he whispered, a pour forming on his lips

oh😐

“well you didn’t ask for any, but I’ll add some in now. there won’t be a lot though since i’ve already filled the tub”

“that’s ok!” he grins, watching as you pour some baby wash into the bath and swirl it into the water to create some bubbles

“ok there, is that ok now?”

“perfect!”

you smile, drying off your hand with a towel. now that hinata was preoccupied, you would just go lay on your bed and catch up on your favorite show. just as you were about to leave, you feel him grab at your wrist

“um,” he begins, avoiding eye contact. “y-you’re not taking it with me?”

y/n.exe has stopped working

“t-take a bath WITH you? did you-did you want me too...?”

he nods shyly, rubbing the nape of his neck

“ok” you simply reply, beginning to strip. he grins once again, immediately taking off his shorts and boxers as if it were some sort of race

“wait! l-let me take off your clothes for you!” he cries, stopping you from slipping off your shirt. you raise your eyebrow at the request but oblige, lifting up your arms to make it easier for him

hinata takes off your shirt, eyes widening as he realizes you were wearing any pants underneath it (which was odd because, well, you’re about to see each other naked. plus his dick is literally out right now)

then he removes your sports bra, avoiding looking at your chest, and then lets you take off your own underwear

you were the first to step into the water, scooching into one corner, followed by hinata scooching into the other

when did the atmosphere become so awkward

you placed your hands between your legs to shield him from the view of your hoo ha, offering a bashful smile

“so... how’s... pedro?” WHY ARE U BRINGING UP HIS ROOMATE? WHO KNOWS😁😁 but the tension is killing you and you don’t know what else to talk about

“oh! he’s good! you should stop by sometime, it feels like i’m more at your place than you are at mine!”

“ok, i will” you reply, tapping your fingers against the tub’s floor. “shoyo, why are you all the way over there?”

with your innocent question, hinata immediately jolts upright

he breaks the invisible barrier, making his way towards you. the water sloshes around as he walks on his knees, gripping the side of the bath for support

slowly, he nestles himself in between your legs, laying the back his head on your chest and facing away from you

your heart rate goes📈📈📈

he’s so precious omfg

“i like it better here” he sighs, making himself more comfortable

his eyes are closed and he has the most content expression on his face

you can feel him rubbing small circles on your thigh, lightly pinching your skin every now and then out of boredom

and his head slumps to the side and jolts up when he’s about to doze off

it doesn’t help that your gently massaging his scalp

but suddenly he looks up at you, his hair tickling the tip of your nose

“kissu~!”

huh??

hinata can tell your confused, so he repeats himself again, but this time more firm

“kissu!” he cries, edging his face closer to yours

“i-i don’t know what that means shoyo...”

he seems irritated. you could practically see the concentration in his face as he attempts to translate whatever word he’s been trying to say to you

“erm...uh...um—” his eyes lighten up once again, “oh, BEIJO!”

(beijo means kiss in portugese btw,, or at least that’s what the internet said😏)

your face flushes as the realization of his request soon sets in

slowly, you tilt your head forwards and you place a small peck against his lips

he smiles, shifting his body to face you

with a slightly pink tint dusting his cheeks, he leans in and presses your lips together

the kiss only lasted a second or two, but it was enough to send butterflies in your stomach

he pulls away from your lips and envelopes you in a hug, barrying his face in your neck

“daisuki..” he mumbles into your skin

“hm?” you ask, leaning into his touch

“oh, nothing.”

he didn’t want to think about leaving brazil, leaving you. so for now he would just enjoy your company

[iwriteficsandmore]

A Little Piece of You

Oh shit, haha! Forgot to put a preview here. Hi! I’m alive! Have been busy writing for my other WIPs but wanted to get this out here bc I love you guys and also this was a cute af soulmate au. Thanks to @insanemarshmallow for the wonderful explanation of this chibi soulmate AU! Also god bless the settphel pairing of league of legends. It gave me the right amount of inspiration for a cute and angtsy oneshot :D

For a child, it's a wondrous thought the one of knowing you would one day find a soulmate. Even more so when you constantly saw it everywhere you went. People going about their lives with cute tiny versions of that one person that belonged with them and whom they were to spend the rest of their lives with. It was a fairytale on its own. One that became yours to live once you turned eighteen and that little piece of them came to you. It was a strange thing to see it happen, but just as great as you thought it'd be when a tiny version of your soulmate hatched from its egg. It had been born alongside you, a reminder that you, too, had someone waiting for you once you grew. You took care of that egg when young knowing how precious it was after hearing so many stories of happily ever afters. And now you finally had it. Alive. 

The first thing that came out of the shell when it broke were red feathers. They poked out somewhat matted and ruffled as it finally emerged and huge amber eyes met yours. His tiny hands ruffled his dark blonde hair back. Chills ran down him as he shook himself out of his stupor and traveled from his head all the way to his toes and tiny wings, sprouting at the end like a blown-up balloon. He was adorable. And the first and only thing he said was his name: Keigo. Finally, you had your very own soulmate! 

But...the experience of having a soulmate was tiring to say the least. 

You didn't know if it was just Keigo, but taking care of this particular red bird was a full-time job. Quirks were already a problem to deal with in and of themselves. But that the small part of your soulmate's soul could readily use those wings of his to fly all around your house was a bigger problem in itself. When you got him at first you thought about keeping him in a cage whenever you had to go out and couldn't take him with you. The first few times, though, you noted how sad he was when you came home. The way he clung to you every time you let him out and how those massive tears welled up in his eyes broke you inside. You threw that cage away after a week of having it. Having no place to keep him however meant that you needed to teach him to be careful. If Keigo wanted to be free, he needed to be careful lest he be taken away or hurt. Little Keigo didn't take that lesson fully to heart until after a little incident with a cat. After that, he would stay close to you whenever you took him outside with you. It took almost a full year to get used to him, but once you did, it was like you two had been together for your whole life. 

Little Keigo was fun to be around with, always enjoying the things you did with him. His taste for chicken got you to learn plenty of new recipes. He slept soundly with you, his little hands always cradling your thumb when he slept in the palm of your hand. And those feathers. You kind of figured what his Quirk was simply by the way he would control all those feathers on his crimson wings. Thing was that he would try to help you at times with things a little too heavy for him which was both worrying and sweet in equal measures. 

Sadly not everything was nice. Not long after he was born did you notice that he began showing signs of pain. Always different places but very visibly hurting. Like someone was hitting or hurting him somehow. You knew the wounds wouldn't show, but seeing him always tired and in pain for days on end would cause your heart to ache to no end. There were also times when his feathers would simply fall with no explanation. It wasn't him controlling them either. They would simply fall and turn a dark brown like petals falling from flowers. And in a way, it was, because when that happened, it would take several days for new ones to grow. Although you were saddened that he was grumpy and glum from being unable to fly, a part of you was also glad. Only when his feathers fell like that did he ever seem to take any breaks and rest. 

'It's your soulmate,' your mother said when you asked her. 'He's reacting to the soul bond between them. There's nothing you can do except wait it out with him.'

And it's exactly what you did. You never questioned it nor chastised him. You knew it wouldn't serve any purpose. Instead, you took care that Keigo wouldn't suffer anymore from your end than his counterpart was already going through. It still hurt though, seeing him hurting. But what stung your heart the most was the way that sometimes tears would just spring from him out of the blue. It happened during the middle of the night almost always and when that crying woke you up, it tore at your heart that you could do nothing more than hold him close and soothe that tiny part of his soul. 

A couple more years went by like that—sometimes painfully, most rather joyfully—until you figured it out. 

It was during dinnertime. Now that you were out of home and living by yourselves in a little apartment close to campus, it was usually spent doing exactly that, eating. But that particular day, Keigo wanted to watch TV. It's not something you did often. You were what they called a country bumpkin through and through. Though you had the resources, you seldom were on the web unless necessary for a task. You had a TV when you lived with your folks but aside from watching cartoons every now and then you never really paid it any attention. The one you had in your tiny apartment was one that had been left behind by the previous tenant. Just a small box with antennas that worked only when it wanted. Complying with his request, you somehow made it work, having it close enough for him to watch while you both ate. And it was while chewing through a serving of yakitori, you saw him.

Keigo. A much, much bigger version. And he was saving people and beating villains on network television. To say you almost choked to death would be an understatement. Keigo—your cute, little Keigo—was the Number Three Hero in all of Japan. The hero known as Hawks. Disbelief was what struck you first and hard. But the more your little Keigo, that little piece of him that resembled the hero to a T, pointed at the flickering screen with a larger than life smile on his face, the more you knew there was no denying the truth. But how? How had you missed such a huge thing for so long? Sure your upbringing explained it a bit. That your parents weren't big hero fans in general also added to it. But that could only hide everything for a little while. Maybe the first year. But for the last four?

God, you seriously needed to see an eye doctor from how damn blind you were. 

You were still baffled as could be when you and Kei went out to the convenience store if only to get your mind out of things. But there was no time for you to space out when, out of the blue, Keigo suddenly perked up and flew away from his perch on your shoulder. Utterly freaking out when it was this late at night, you chased after the fast little pigeon, turning corner after corner and getting more lost the longer you did. You dodged some random people who were on their late night stroll or going back home from work apologizing all the way as you chased after that little red fluff of feathers as quick as you could. Finally, when he was getting too far, you shouted his name in an attempt to get him to slow down. He turned a corner, you did too—and crashed right into someone.

A hand firmly grasped your arm to stop you from falling back almost instantly. You hurriedly apologized not wanting to lose Keigo. But when the person spoke up, you froze in your tracks.

"Y/n?"

Almost instantly, your head snapped upward and met amber eyes. Rather familiar ones at that with those delineations on those eyes. The name spilled from little lips almost instantly without you even noticing.  

"Keigo?"

A soft glow took both of your attentions and made you face to the side were a couple of little things were floating in midair. It was your little Keigo and in his arms...a tiny version of you. Both were giddily giggling as he spun them in midair with his wings. The glow that caught your sight had been the one they were emanating as they danced. A glow that, like you'd been told by your mother long ago, meant that you and your soulmate had finally found one another and were truly bonded. Out of breath as you were, it took you a second to finally turn back to the man before you. 'Keigo,' you reminded yourself. Before you could say anything, he let out a hearty laughter that reached his eyes as he took off the baseball cap he had on letting windswept blonde tresses fall over his face. Curious how on him it was a rather handsome look instead of cute. 

"Who would've thought, huh?" As he laughed again, he reached out his hand to the two tiny versions of yourselves. Your little Keigo brought themselves back to the palm of his hand, the two holding hands and bumping their foreheads against each other like little doves. "Y'know, I always thought the little you was cute. Never thought you'd be this lovely in real life."

"T-Thank you." Dumb, yes, but you had no idea what else to say. Your brain was fried after all these surprises in less than 24 hours! The No.3 hero—your soulmate—was before you, and it was far more than you could take at the moment. When you noticed him staring, it finally brought back some of that notorious self-consciousness of yours as you fidgeted in your own shoes. "S-Sorry! It's a bit of a shock to find you, well, here. Now. And god, I can't believe this is happening now when I just found out about you."

Those amber eyes grew a bit quizzical at her statement. "What do you mean?" You were embarrassed to admit that you barely had put two and two together about his identity which got another laugh from him. "Honestly, not surprising." He reached up to ruffle the little you's head lovingly as a tender smile came to his face. "You never liked watching TV or playing with my phone. I always carry a book with me because you like to read so much. I never thought it'd take this long to find each other."

"How long have you been a hero?" you asked, curious.

"Since I was eighteen."

Oh. That explained so much. Yet nothing at all at the same time. Wanting to start things again, you cleared your throat and stood in front of him as your little Keigo returned to your side, sitting on your shoulder with a proud grin. "H-How about we start again? I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you, Kiego-san."

Keigo chuckled as the little you returned to the safety of his shirt pocket, peeking out from under the flap with as wide a smile as his. "It's nice to meet you, too, y/n."

[sorathemasterofmasters]

If you could say one thing to your friends after all these years, what would it be?

How bold of you to assume he was only going to say one thing.

The following related excerpt is from the Master Reports Fic which I think I’ll just post bits and pieces that apply to Kingstagram posts.

“So he was recently in Daybreak Town Clocktower, we know that at least, where else could he go?” Asked Riku aloud as the group ascended the stairs of Yen Sid’s Tower. “The guy is thousands of years old he could be anywhere, he's probably on the other end of the galaxy sipping mojitos on a tropical island and laughing at us” Lea snarked as he opened the door to Yen Sid’s office. "Or I could be right where fate dictates I should be." The voice came suddenly out of nowhere, lounged carelessly on Yen Sid’s own seat idly flipping through an old book with his black booted feet propped nonchalantly on the desk. The Master of Masters familiar spiky brown hair peeking out of the hood, grinned shamelessly one eye closed over an empty socket the right eye blue slit and gazing over the group in amusement. Lea lunged forward before he could think keyblade drawn, yet the Master of Masters merely rolled his remain eye and sighed disappointedly “Haa, attacking me with the keyblade I forged? Sooo stupid.” “What!” Lea exclaimed as his keyblade dispelled mid-strike into sparkles then grunted as he was slammed backward into the wall with stunning force by an invisible wave. Powerful magic bore down on everyone in the room preventing any movement. “Now now” Sora- no- the Master of Masters, tutted with a sunny smile in a condescending tone momentarily taking his single eye off the page he was reading. "I'll get to you in a moment" he went back to reading one of Yen Sid’s books Riku noted, totally disregarding their presence as if they weren't a threat, how strong was this version of Sora? The Master of Masters sighed tiredly evidently having found what he was looking for. Nonchalantly taking his feet off the desk and placing the book open on the table before him, his single blue slit eye trailed over the group. "I'll admit, I hadn't intended for us to meet quite like this, but I suppose sentiment was stronger than destiny in this case." “Sora?” Riku breathed shock at seeing this older version of his friend in the flesh pinning him in place and at a complete loss as to what to say. Ventus on the other hand had plenty to say or rather shout “Why are you acting like this?!” For a moment the Master of Masters looked puzzled “Like what, Oh Wait! Are you talking about all those Kingstagram Entries I forgot to delete?” The Master of Masters coughed, embarrassed and scratched the back of his head in a familiar Sora-esque mannerism “Yeah.. my bad. I’ve been using it as a diary for the last few thousand years as you know by now. Forgetting to turn off its network capabilities is probably the first mistake I’ve made in hundreds of years, to be honest!” The older Sora’s laughter was almost the same his voice different, almost manic. Riku spoke up cautiously looking with his eyes and his heart for any trace of his friend “Do you hold a grudge against us or something? We didn't know we were hurting you Sora. And once we did we’ve been trying to fix things-” The Master of Masters waved Riku off with a gesture mid apology “I know, and it's nice and all but this really has nothing to do with that or you, In fact, if I hadn't messed up then we’d have never met and I could have spared you the heartache I know you’re feeling” The expression on the Master of Master's face was inscrutable his thoughts hidden in that instance. Mickey wasn't so sure though and in his heart doubted this version of Sora had let go of something so fundamental “Surely something remains in your heart!” The Master of Master's gaze rested on Mickey a reassuring smile out of place on this version of their friend inadvertently sending shivers down the spines of Guardians of Light. “Oh Mickey, I have nothing but respect for you, unfortunately those bound by fate must follow it regardless of personal feelings. So how is the other me? Actually happy? Less suicidal ideation disguised as self-sacrifice?” The Master of Masters nodded to himself “I can see it in your expressions, that's good I suppose his death is no longer necessary so we can skip that bit of teenage drama” The Master of Masters tilted his head childishly examining the group in front of him “well I can't say I don't like this change to the Guardian of Light roster!” The Master of Master's gaze trailed over the group.

“Kairi, The only Princess of Heart capable of wielding a keyblade.

Riku, Wielder of both Light and Darkness in equal measure.

Ventus formerly of Aced’s Ursa Union the least bloodthirsty one in fact, the one I hand-picked to help Ephemer lead the Dandelions exodus to escape the shattering of the Realm of Light and ensure the Keyblade wielders did not go extinct.

King Mickey Mouse, Wielder of the Kingdom Key D that I dropped in the Realm of Darkness during my escape from the shattering.

Aqua, left to languish in the Realm of Darkness for ten years, an amazing feat of survival.

The absent wielders, Roxas, the Nobody that developed his own heart out of sheer stubbornness.

Xion, a replica puppet that also developed her own heart by the strength of her own memories and the bonds she herself formed.

Lauriam the wielder who’s actions alerted me to the intruder in the Dandelions Sanctuary, slain by Maleficent as she inadvertently damaged the dataworld and forced them to evacuate before the worlds were safe to traverse.

Elrena, perished in the evacuation but possessing such a strong heart that she re-manifested in real world. My younger self who can connect with hearts on a level unheard of in recorded history.”

The Master of Masters paused his eye resting contemplatively on Lea “..and then there's you” a brief silence engulfed the room. “Honestly” The Master of Masters sighed “bequeathing, a last resort for when none are worthy of the actual honor.” “You take that back” Lea growled the other Guardians also raising their hackles at the Master of Masters insinuation. “Hmmm? No I don't think I will.” The Master of Masters spoke measuredly and shrugged “I designed every keyblade to exist, they were made to be very choosy when it comes to their wielders, not be passed down to the unworthy like trinkets on a whim.” the word trinkets spat like an expletive full of scorn enough to make the room flinch. “Where's Master Yen Sid?” asked Mickey warily keeping an eye on the intimidating Lost Master before them. The Master of Masters tilted his head as if confused “Hmm? Oh that old coot? He's around.” The Master gave a half-hearted gesture with an off-hand a grin slowly creeping along his face “I had a lot of fun stripping him of his mastery through” The Master of Masters grinned like a cat and Mickey yelped as his own hastily summoned Keyblade vanished against his will in a blaze of light. The Master of Masters tutted once again waggling a finger. “Come on now, You seriously didn't think The Master of Master title was an empty one did you? Right now? None of you are a match for me as you are, you can't even stand without shaking!” The shaking, a sign of the group trying to escape their confinement and failing miserably. “What do you want?” shouted Riku irritated beyond belief despite himself, the Master of Masters smiled oddly for a second then gave a barking laugh taking them all aback wiping an imaginary tear from his eye “I’ll admit I honestly forgot you had such an angry base expression. Well, what I want? I want a lot of things, some transitory and some more permanent. All things I can get without your input, permission or interference. I mean I could put you down for the duration, but, where would be the fun in that?” The group flinched as the Master of Masters sunny tone and how at odds it was with the very real dark threat in his gaze. “So anyway...” The Master of Masters snapped his fingers once causing everyone in the room to stagger still paralyzed under his magical might as a strange sensation tingled throughout their bodies. “I'll settle for delaying you a little bit” “What did you do to us?!” grunted Ven peculiar weakness running through his limbs. “Hmm, oh nothing that hasn't been done before to one of your numbers, you’re going to have to earn those Keyblade’s this time just like he did, just like I did. I'll even throw in a power boost if you do it the right way. Won't that surprise the Norts?” The Master of Masters laughed at their furious gazes. “Are you on his side?” Asked Kairi warily. The Master of Masters snorted “Xehanort? Not in this life or any other and don't worry he won't come after you for a long while yet, which should give you plenty of time to get stronger.” The Master of Masters perked up abruptly, whiplashing between moods fast enough to give the group a headache “Soooo.. anyway if you want to retrieve those keyblades of yours then you should probably find those replacement Darknesses Xehanort was harping on and on and on about.” “Why are you helping us!” demanded Aqua “I doubt it's from the goodness of your heart.” The Master of Masters chuckled “Nope, You’d be right there but you see, cornered rats can cause a lot of damage and Xehanort? He’s just lost how many of his Darknesses now?” That made the group pause as the Master of Masters continued to point out something they hadn't considered yet “He'll be anxious to replace them and Xehanort never functioned well when it comes to improvisation. He might inadvertently cause a lot of damage to the worlds and I do kinda need them more or less intact” The Master of Masters shrugged considering and amending his statement ominously “Well, the people at least.” The Master of Masters got up from Yen Sid’s seat and stretched walking past the paralyzed group before pausing snapping the air as though in realization "By the way that book on the desk? Your gonna want to read it before Yen Sid gets back, just saying." With that parting bit of advice, the Master of Masters darted leisurely out the door. It was five minutes before the lingering power of the Master of Masters dissipated enough for anyone to move, signaling his exit from the world. Silence reigned in the tower for a long time after that.

This little bit of MoM!Sora insanity came to me in the middle of the night in a dream, I think I got MoM!Sora’s character about right and I now think the best strategy for writing this lovable lunatic is to throw a dart at a D&D alignment chart and write him like that for that chapter. ... Is it working? I think its working. Also sorry about any bad spelling or grammar.

Anyway, everyone else not present at The Mysterious Tower panicked at the new Kingstagram post but couldn't do anything as MoM!Sora posted it after this confrontation.

This Post is also in part a answer to another post that asked for a star wars style confrontation, Unfortunately that post went missing due to Tumblr UI being the burning glitch of a trashfire baby we all know and loathe. So, Sorry whoever asked that.

[imagines-to-quench-thirst]

The war between the two lovers

@belle82devart asked: Hello there, darling! Happy (early) New Years! I would love to know if you would maybe write a Cliff Unger x Reader fic where he is in his BT form and recognizes one of the people from his past (the reader)? There could maybe be some flashback angst or smut that leads to a very angsty reunion? Maybe he's tried to kill the reader before realizing who she is? ❤ I hope this isn't too much to ask for and I understand if it is. Thank you anyway for just viewing this ask! ❤❤❤

Warning: a few swear words, depiction of violence and war

Summary: Commander Y/n L/n runs with her group of young soldiers through the warzone city but what happens when she thinks of her lover that left before her?

Pairing: Cliff Unger x reader (military AU)

'Commander L/n fall back!' The shouts and wails of commands, requests, and cries of help from the bruised army men as they ran away from the incoming tank. Seeing her men, her team, her comrades she yells with the remaining air from her lungs 'Down, dames. Under the bridge.'

Looking at their leader and the underbelly on the bridge seeing they spy the prickled fence surrounding it. 'What are you waiting for? Dive down.'

The shaken men look down questioning their leader 'Ma'am, what if-' 'You want an invitation, soldier?!' With the tank nearing Y/n pushed them falling down on the barbed wire and under the bridge. Jumping down and huddling over each other Y/n and her team felt the tremendous power of the tank above them. Shaking the small stone bridge the pebbles falling at the sides. Looking back at her men she asks 'You alright? No wounds?' The men shake seeing the small frown on her dry lips. Seeing the noticeable shift in her action and stance they ask cautiously.

'Maybe the rest of the troops are well.' The youngest soldier of 23 years tells. Looking at her hopeful eyes she responded with an exhausted nod. 'Let's get moving, we can't stay here for long. Move out.'

'The view is nice.' Y/n responded as her eyes land on the small window seeing the valleys of hills decorated with wine yards with the sun shining down on the small mansion. 'It won't be like that for a while.' A voice that she loved to death provoked a scowl to her expression.

'Of course, if you think like that.' She turns to him seeing Cliff, her Cliff, laying on the bed covers over his scratched body with many hickeys. Letting her step drag he sees the small grin on his face his slowly gray hair depriving him of the scene in front of him. Damn that old hair.

Sitting next to him she felt his chapped lips on her hand giving greatly more affection she craved for. 'Let's go to the wine yard. I want to try their new black wine.' Y/n whispered as she pulled her hand away standing up trying to lure Cliff out of the bed.

'We can have a wine tasting right here.' He taps the plush white comfort. 'That's a given but I won't go outside.' Y/n replied still standing her ground. 'Alright then let's go taste some fermented grapes.'

'Let's go, boys, run.' Y/n yelled yet again at her boys as she watched the tired man prance in front of her 'Run faster, my Nana God rest her soul could run faster than you and still make some Rahat locum.' The man seemingly start to pick up their place as running through the murky ankle-high water hearing behind them screams and a loud 'They are here!' some soldiers turned their head as a horrified look settle on their bruised faces.

'Don't look back men. That's rule number one.' Y/n clarified seeing a shaky nod. Closing her eyes she steadies her mind focusing on the splashes of water in front of her and especially behind her. So much more than in front of her.

'I'm tired beyond measures.' Y/n groans as she entered her apartment with her boyfriend Cliff. 'Me too. Just want to read a book and fall asleep.' Cliff answers as he removes his coat. Y/n turns to him her brow arched in commotion 'I here thought that you were ready for an exercise, Captain Unger.' Cliff laughs at her temptation and responds in equal measure. 'Well, if you are talking about my most favorite exercise Commander L/n then maybe I have some just in case.'

'Commander, there isn't any ammo left. I'm done.' A soldier next to her screamed as he kneeled down behind the barricade. Watching her men putting the very last rounds she shouts 'Come on, men, what's our motto ?' The men shout in unions 'Adapt and overcome.'

As the last rounds rung out Y/n looks at her men tried with no hope abandoned. Hearing the footsteps approach Y/n grabs her knife holding it tightly in her hand. Her men copy her exchanging their empty guns for sharp blades. The enemies ran into their safe area pointing their guns to them and with an iron heart and iron blade, Y/n and her men attacked the overly powerful enemies fighting until the very demise.

'You promised that we would go together. You fucking promised.' Y/n shouted at her Cliff that made an earth-shattering decision. 'This isn't about us. It about the well-being of the rest, the civilians, the next generation. You know that.'

Y/n places her hand on his bag stopping him. 'But you promised.' she mumbled out as tears started to exit. 'This is bigger than us. If it's my fate to die I'm happy with that.' Hearing the D-word Y/n shots again 'What about our destiny to be together?!' Cliff sighs deeply 'We shouldn't have been together, you know that.'

With more tears she scarcely responds 'I-I-I do-don't have words... for this.' Cliff looks at her one last time he exits the house grabbing his keys from the nearby bowl.

Trying to stop the wails Y/n looks at the last thing Cliff touched not her, not his lover but the plastic bowl. Something he never did. 'Stupid bowl.' looking down she sees a small metal piece twinkling. Picking it up she sees the long band of metal beads and at the end the rectangle plaque.

'You idiot.'

Opening her eyes Y/n sees the gray sky above her. Standing gradually up she feels the sluggish sand under her palm. What! Looking at her surroundings she sees no one just harsh black hills and mountains. Strolling along the water she sees the empty area with still no one in sight. 'Who are you?' a gentle voice asks her as she cascades down a small hill on the woman's face a soft smile. 'I'm Y/n L/n. I was back in um, the city and a soldier knocked me on the head and I woke up here. I don't know how I got-' 'You are dead. That's why you are on this beach.' Y/n stares at the woman seeing the smile still sitting in her face 'Are you alright in the head? If that was true you shouldn't act like this...all relaxed.' The woman giggled nodding 'I am. I am just here to welcome new arrivals but trust me you are very much dead.' Walking past Y/n, Y/n continues asking 'Wait, but why- and you are gone.' she turns to see no one behind her.

Shaking off, Y/n starts to continue walking feeling a cold chill creeping up her spine. A gunshot rings out. Covering her head she looks at the high hills seeing a small group of guns-carrying people holding the gun in her direction making her stop in her tracks. As they walked closer she saw a tube departing from the man in the middle connected to the other surrounding him. 'What the-' 'State your name.' all of a sudden the very gun who fired at her was in front of her placed on her forehead feeling the warm metal. The man holding the gun with a mask covering his face. 'Y/n L/n.' As much as fear wanted to subdue her she couldn't do it, not now. 'What are you doing?' the man asks as she started to remove his mask. 'I don't know I just woke up before 10 minutes, I think. I just woke up he- Cliff!'

Y/n screamed in shock seeing her boyfriend's face. He looks at her in surprise. 'How do you know my name?' he asks again seeing the confused woman still holding the gun to her forehead. 'It's me Y/n, your Y/n... Commander L/n... I'm your girlfriend.' as she listed her name and nicknames he continued to be confused 'Respond honestly or I'll shoot.' knowing how much he is serious about it she takes her hand to her chest lowering slowly down 'I'm just gonna grab something it's not a gun, promise.'

He watches your hand dives in your shirt as you grabbed the metal necklace and pulling it over your head placing the entirety in her palm showing him 'You gave me that. The last time we saw each other.'

Cliff looks at the dog tag pulling the gun down and into his pocket as he grabs the necklace into his hand. Letting his fingers move across the metal indent looking once more at the woman in front of her.

Hearing her sobs he hears her voice breaking as she said 'I-I-I do-don't have words... for this.' Cliff looks at her one last time as he exits the house grabbing his keys from the nearby bowl as he puts his dog tag into the bowl in secrecy. Hoping that she will see it.

'Y/n.' Cliff looks at her as the sudden realization dawned on his face. 'Why are you here?' he asks as he yanks her into a familiar hug. 'You idiot, how could you leave me and die?!' Y/n lets her anger wash over her as she starts to hit him on his shoulders venting out her frustration. 'How dare you?' she asks again as the anger turns to saddens. Cliff looks at the sobbing woman being reminded of the last time he saw her in this same state. 'I'm sorry I regretted my decision every day and when I died somehow I forgot you-' Y/n looks up at him hitting him again 'How could you forget this face?!'

Cliff looks at her face seeing how much she stayed the same. His hands land in her cheeks as his head leaned down kissing her lips after the long-awaited moment. His lips softly moving against her savoring the feel and emotions received. Something he missed dearly, something that reminded him of home.

'Will you ever forgive me?' he asks as he watches her eyes, she nods 'Well, I don't have anywhere to go. Adapt and overcome.' 'Adapt and overcome.'

Hope you liked it. Feedback is always appreciated❤️

[peachnewt]

Midnight Snack - Whipped

A Getting In Deep future short.

 -On the third day of lock-down the break room gave to me...

A competition for Dalgona Coffee!-

 Watch Two had been warned in advance that the base would have a five day lock-down and nonessential persons should go home to wait it out.  A bare-bones collection of people were left to slowly go crazy in Watch Two's underground base.  They had grown too accustomed to the card games where have of the players cheated.  Mario Kart couldn't hold a candle to the impromptu desk chair races which became a whole new sport when Will included the element of lances and jousting for rings hung from the ceiling.  

Even the retired test bunny, Copperfield, had gotten tired of people's need to cuddle something fluffy and would kick them before running away.  

What the Watch needed was a bit of excitement.  A bit of competition that didn't rely on cheating or luck.  And wouldn't get them killed.  

It happened when four voices complained in Main Tech.  

"I'm bored," said Will.  He had already read the books in his desk and had no inclination to read them again.  And picking out another ebook was a chore.  

"I'm tired," said Louis.  He had finally reached the over-saturation point of his coffee intake.  He would have to degrade himself to lay still and sleep that night instead of being "productive".  

"I want something sweet," Reese and Beni chorused.  They had not had time to stock up the essentials (ex: chocolates, candies, energy drinks, pixie sticks, gelatin - don't' ask), and the vending machines had not been restocked in a while, leaving behind stale chips and granola bars trying to be a treat and failing horribly.  

"Check the break room?"  offered Will.

"Sure." Louis pulled his body off his desk like he was pulling himself out of a grave.  It was only noon for crying out loud.  He needed more coffee.  Break room was a must.  

Beni and Reese, figuring Will was talking to them as well, joined the pair to the break room.  The four searched every nook, cranny, and drawer.  Beni even took out drawers to see of anything had fallen behind them.  

Aside from a few flattened and perished bags of peanuts and sugar packets, she found nothing.  

"Why do we have a twenty pound bag of rice?" asked Reese.  

"Cheap and easy food," said Will.  "I'm more worried about the ten canisters of instant coffee."  

"Without coffee there is chaos and darkness," said Louis without missing a beat.  "I'm more curious why we need a twenty pound bag of sugar."  

"Without sugar there is oppression and darkness," replied Beni.  "Plus adding sugar to cooked rice is tasty."  

Rachel, who had observed the four's need to pillage the break room at a distance, chimed in.  

"Have you ever heard of Dalgona coffee?" asked Rachel.  

All four looked up.  

"Whipped coffee, right?" said Louis.  

"Gone viral," said Will.  "I think."  

"It's half sugar," added Beni.  

"Equal parts sugar, instant coffee, and water whipped together to make a foam," said Reese. "Why do you mention it?"

Rachel shrugged. "Sounded interesting. Thought we could make a game of it."  

Game.  A chime in the wind.  A call to action.  A call to possible fun.  

"Go on," said Reese.  

*** 

In essence, Rachel wanted the four of them to compete in who could make dalgona coffee the fastest without using an electronic mixer.  At first the four assumed this would be a test of arm strength, until she added a caveat.

Only one of them would have a whisk.  

They set up the break room like a competition on Food Network, complete with aprons and pre-measured portions of instant coffee, sugar, and hot water.  Sleeves were rolled up, jackets taken off.  Beni put on her high speed roller blade goggles.

Rachel held up four paper bags with large letters from A to D written in sharpie.  

"These are your tools to aerate your dalgona coffee.  Each of you will have ten minutes to turn your tool into what you need. Your resources are tape, rubber bands, string, knives, and your own ingenuity.  No glue, no welding, no setting anything on fire."

"Aw."

"Once your tools are made you will have another ten minutes to turn your instant coffee, sugar, and water into a whipped delight.  Whosoever has the better whipped coffee after ten minutes wins.  However, one of you will receive a whisk at a time disadvantage, you will have only five minutes to whip your coffee instead of ten.  Any questions so far?"  

Reese popped the top button on his shirt and leaned over the counter with a "charming" smile.  "How do you prefer to be bribed for me to get the whisk?"  

"It will be random selection."  Rachel held out four cards with the letters A, B, C, and D, and had each of them pick one.

Each card got a matching bag.  Reese, card A, got three plastic forks.  Beni, card B, received three plastic straws.  Louis, card C, three cheap wooden chopsticks.  When she put the bag down in front of Will, she pulled it back when he reached out for it.  

"You got the whisk," said Rachel.  "You have to wait for the five minute mark."  

Will's eyes glimmered and he nodded.  

"Trade you," said Reese, holding up one of his forks.  

"Not even going to bribe me?"  asked Will in mock offense.  "I'm hurt.  And no." Will turned to Louis.  "You don't want to trade?"  

"No way, Fanboy. Me and my chopsticks are gonna out-whisk you!  You're gonna wish you never skipped arm day."  

Rachel held up her hand, contains of rubber bands, string, tape, and knives at the ready in front of her. "Ten minutes to make your whisks, go!"  

Beni, Reese, and Louis dashed to grabbed their implements.  Over the next few minutes Will got to observe his coworkers turn straws, forks, and chopsticks into something else.  

Reese proceeded to bend the tines of the fork outwards as much as he could without breaking them, and then bound the three forks together with the rubber bands to make something that looked like a sea urchin.  

Beni grabbed a knife and spliced the three straws half way down the middle in four ways, and then curled the ends back up to the barrel of the straw, securing them with a bit of tape. Once bound together she had something that looked very close to a whisk.  

Louis also took a knife and split two of the chopsticks into chop-twigs a fourth of the original length. With bits of string he tied the twigs together like little crosses, and then tied those crosses onto the third chopstick.  At the unadorned end of the chopstick, he added some rubber bands for a hand grip. Finished, it looked like a found-art depiction of a tree.

"Are we ready?"

"Bring it!" said Louis.  

"As I'll ever be," said Reese.  

"I got this," said Beni.  

"Red leader standing by!" said Will.  

"All but Will, go!"  Rachel tapped the stopwatch on her phone.  

In unison the four dumped the instant coffee, sugar, and hot water into their bowls.  While the others whisked their concoctions, Will waited, tilting his bowl this way and that to fully dissolve his ingredients.  He swirled it about, trying to see if he could get any foam going with just moving the bowl.  Any start was a good start.  

Four minutes in, Reese with his forks had turned his syrupy coffee into a slightly thicker syrup, the color changing from coffee black to dark chocolate brown.  He moved the makeshift whisk to the other hand and flexed the cramping fingers of the other.  

"Feeling the burn there?" jeered Louis.  

"I'm working at a disadvantage!" snapped Reese.  

"Excuses!" said Beni.  "Keep going!"  

Beni had her bowl on a towel and tilted as she whisked with her straws.  Her compact arms moved the whisk in a blur, as if inhaling the coffee and sugar scent energized her.  Her coffee was the color of milk chocolate.  She was also tiring, and the tape keeping her whisk together slowly peeled.

"Wow," said Will looking from one bowl to the next.  "You are all actually getting this stuff to work."  

Louis didn't turn his whisk like the others.  Instead he put the spiky end into the concoction and then twirled the top if it like a child would a dragonfly toy, or a scout trying to start a fire with two sticks. A design requiring less effort, but a fragile one as some tiny branches pivoted from where they were tied on their branch.  However, Louis coffee was also the color of milk chocolate, and slowly getting thicker.

Will felt a bit left out. Making a whisk out of found objects sounded fun, and he was sure he could have created something just as effective. But he had the advantage.  He got the whisk.  Which he could use...

"Five minutes, whisk!"  said Rachel.

Will snapped up the bag and immediately felt something was wrong.  The bag didn't feel heavy at all.  He opened the bag and saw...

Nothing.  

No.  Wait.  A glimmer of metal.  

Will tipped the bag over. One teeny tiny whisk, at home with the mice in Barbie's Malibu kitchen, rolled out onto the counter.  

Will dared not even attempt to pick it up between his fingers. He would need tweezers to even hold it.  Forget using it on his coffee.  

Will whimpered and bent over , arms braced on the counter.  "I've been defeated before I began."  

"What?" Louis looked over, saw the tiny speck of a whisk and full-belly laughed, hands fumbling at his chopstick whisk as he wiped a tear from under his shades, leaving a smear of coffee brown on his cheek.  

Beni kept whisking with her straws, but she glanced over and then smiled.  

"How did you even find a whisk that small?" Will asked Rachel, aghast.  "Polly Pocket outlet?"  

Reese chuckled. "Your overconfidence is your weakness, jedi."  

"Wrong quote," said Will, bent back to the floor.  

"Get working," said Louis.  "The coffee ain't gonna whips itself."  

"Not funny," said Will, pouting  "No one can whisk coffee with a whisk that size unless they were that size!"

Louis and Will froze and then looked at each other, the scenario finally clicking.  

"Switch with me, please!" pleaded Will.  

"I'm on a roll here!" said Louis, nodding to his coffee lightening to slightly lighter milk chocolate.  

"Switch with me or shrink with me, I'm okay with either!"  Will put on the most pitiful puppy eyes he could manage.  "I'll make it worth it!"  

"How?" said Louis.

Will leaned over, cupped his hand over Louis' ear, and whispered something that couldn't be heard over the swishing and clacking of plastic forks, chopsticks, and straws.  

Louis dropped his chopstick, grabbed Will's still un-frothed bowl, sat on the counter, and shucked off his shades, hooking them over Will's collar.  "I'll hold you to it."  

In a flash Louis had shrunk down to a little less than three inches, the bowl with him.  Perfect size for the tiny whisk.  

"Is that allowed?" cried Reese.  

"No rules against switching in the middle of the game," said Rachel, smirking.  "Four minutes left!"  

Will continued where Louis left off, twirling the chopstick until his skin burned.  Despite Rachel's warning, he just might start a fire with the amount of friction going on between his hands.  But the coffee got thicker, lighter, airy, harder to spin Louis' chopstick whisk through.  Out the corner of his vision he could see Louis attacking his bowl with his arm a blur. The tinny, tiny sound of metal against glass a constant ringing.  

Beni gritted her teeth, switched hands, and continued.  Reese cursed under his breath as his forearms protested.  

Rachel looked too happy at their collective state.  "Ten... nine..."  

The four put in a final burst of energy, coffee froth spattering over their bowls and they whisked to glory.  

"Four... three..."

Win or lose, I get to keep that promise to Louis, thought Will. And that was a prize indeed.  

"One... time!"

The whisks, what was left of them, dropped from their hands and they all backed away from the counter, wincing at their achy hands and arms.  

Louis panted laid down on the counter, and rolled his shoulders.  "Okay.  That was arm day."  

"Agreed," said Reese.  Of the three of the makeshift whisks, his had stayed in the best shape.  However his coffee was still more thick syrup than fluff.

"No more moving," added Beni.  Her whisk had practically fallen apart, bits of plastic straw sticking out every which way. But so did her coffee, the peanut butter colored fluff spiking out and staying there.  

Will's inherited chopstick whisk would never whisk again, the main branch falling off when it hit the bowl.  But the foam matched Beni's in color and stiffness, perhaps a hair lighter.  

Beside Louis a tiny bowl brimmed with light caramel colored foam, the top of it peaking like a sharp tack.

Rachel examined each of the bowls, testing the fluffiness of the coffee with a spoon and comparing the color and volume.  Louis' bowl had to be judged with the assistance of a magnifier.  Louis laid there unmoving.  Rachel also jotted down a few notes on a clipboard.  

A few minutes later, she stood before them with her judgment.  

"You should all be proud," said Rachel.  "The variety of whisks made was impressive, as well as your collective arm strength.  Which you will try to improve, I'm sure."  

Reese gave a grunt of negative.  

"Beni, you win for best use of a makeshift whisk, despite its short lifespan.  Out of all the dalgona coffees made with non-whisks, yours is the lightest and fluffiest."  

Beni held what was left of her three straws with pride.  

"Reese, while your dalgona has a ways to go, your handmade whisk can last the whole time without breaking or bending.  Out of all non-whisks, yours is the sturdiest."  

"And in a pinch double as a torture device," said Reese, airing his collar.  "For the wielder."

"Will, while at a disadvantage, you realized the proper use for the whisk given to you.  Fitting the tool to the purpose, well done."

Will nodded, but felt the praise was undeserved.  He had jumped in on Louis' bowl halfway.  That didn't count in his mind.  

"And Louis," said Rachel.  

Louis groaned on the counter.  

"I have never seen an arm whisk that fast.  For pure, brutal arm strength, you get the strongest arms."  

"Yay," Louis said, deadpan.  

"What do we win?" asked Reese.  

"I already have a batch of dalgona in the freezer.  All of you get to take a break and I will serve each of you a bowl."  

"And...?" edged Beni.  

"And there  are sprinkles, chocolate syrup, and redi whip for your use."  

Beni and Reese cheered as they ran back to their desks, still splattered with sugar coffee syrup and clad in their aprons.  

Will leaned down next to Louis' tiny prone form.  "You can have my frozen dalgona."  

"On top of what you promised?"  

Will blushed. "Yes.  You'll have to get it later tonight.  I had a lot for lunch."  

"Gotcha," said Louis.  "Would you mind picking me up?  I can't move my arms, I'll be flopping around like a fish."  

"Whatever you want, Mighty Mouse."  

"The Mightiest"

Will nodded and gently scooped Louis up in his palm.  They would wait out in Rachel's lab until Louis could turn back to normal size.  

***

Rachel covered the large bowls and set them in the fridge.  They would be good for coffee come morning.  The tiny bowl Rachel set aside on a lab tray.  She had a test on air density and viscosity to run.  

***

Beni and Reese had their bowls of dalgona slathered with caramel and chocolate sauce, sprinkles like confetti on velvet.  As much as they preferred energy drinks over coffee for their caffeine needs, they could appreciate it's slightly bitter taste as a dessert.  

In a spare office space designated as sleeping quarters for the lockdown, Louis enjoyed his double dose of dalgona with Will's help.  Louis lay on a cot with two pillows under his shoulders.  Louis refused to move his arms, claiming that whipping his tiny bowl of dalgona had ripped his muscles to shreds and needed help.  Will indulged his overreaction and fed him with loving spoonfuls.  

"Thank you for switching with me."  Will swirled the spoonful of dalgona through a streak of chocolate and whipped cream. "You didn't have to."  

"Yes I did," said Louis.  "Rachel's been wanting me to do more tests with her during lockdown.  And I've been avoiding it."  

"Oh."  

Louis reached out a pinky to Will's thigh.  "You're the only one I would have switched with."  

"Good.  I'd hate to be jealous of Reese over a cooking competition."  

"Speaking of competition," said Louis, sliding closer.  "I won a little something."  

"Hardly little."

"I will be." Louis rose up from the pillows and pressed his mouth to Will's, sharing the bitter taste of coffee and too much sugar. They parted with a sugary smek. "Gonna let me inside?"  

Will licked his lips, butterflies in his stomach ready to migrate,  and put the bowls aside.  

***

Later that night, Beni, Reese, Louis, and Rachel, realized that a scoop of dalgona coffee should not be eaten like ice cream right before they were about to sleep.  

Sleep did not happen until the crack of dawn.  For many reasons.  

--------

If you enjoyed this short, consider buying me a ko-fi!  

[tsipasce]

Same Difference Ch. 12

A/N: ssorry for the late-ish upload, I got married yesterday! :D

On that note, this chapter is a bit cuter than usual so I hope you enjoy. As always, thank you for all the really sweet comments and kudos <3

Chapters: 01  |  02 |  03 |  04 | 05  | 06 | 07 | 08 |  09 |  10 |  11

AO3

Nanami undressed carefully and ran a bath, wincing as she slid in, the soapy water reminding her of all the nicks and bruises she’d accumulated that night. Exhaling for what felt like the first time in hours, she leaned her head back against the rim of the tub and felt a tear roll down her cheek. Before she could register the action, the emotional dam burst open and tears continued to fall one after the other as she tried to stifle a whimper.

It had all come to a head and the pain she’d been suppressing bubbled upwards and down her flushed face. She had an inkling of what to expect when she got involved with his world. She knew there would be consequences, but the confirmation and reality of said consequences were another story entirely. This is... a lot. Even for me. She thought almost laughing to herself again at the predicament, attempting to steady her breath, But I can—I will handle it. We’re gonna accept this feeling and then let it go. If I let this take over, then what was all this for? I’m gonna keep going. I have to… But for just a little while longer, I’m going to rest.

She sighed, healing her wounds and scrubbing herself gently with her favorite lavender scrub. If she was going to rest, she was going to do it right. I’ll finish up here, light some candles, put on my favorite pj’s, play some music in the living roo—just then she remembered she wasn’t alone and sank down into the tub, suddenly feeling very exposed. As nervous as she was, there was also a strange sense of comfort. If he’s still there, that is.

Accepting she couldn’t hide in her bubble fortress forever, she exited the tub, toweling off and going to her room through the adjoining door in the bathroom. She was still committed to the favorite p.j.’s idea, putting on a matching black and white short sleeve shirt and shorts. Before the thought of “what’s Overhaul gonna think?” could rear its head, she cut it off. It’s my house, I wear what I want. Why would I care what he thinks anyways? She thought, trying to convince herself, rolling her eyes at the notion while also giving herself a once over in the mirror before exiting the room.

Her confidence waning with every step she took down the hallway to her living room, she sheepishly peeked from around the corner to see if he was still there. He was on her couch, focused on whatever was on his phone. He hadn’t moved from the spot where she’d left him.

“If you need something, feel free to come and get it. There’s no need to sneak around your own house.”

“Wha—I was not ‘sneaking around’. Just… checking to see if you were still here is all.” She sputtered, holding her arm, avoiding eye contact as he’d turned to address her.

“Like I said, I’ll be here.” The look he was giving her made her shift nervously.

She simply nodded, briskly making her way to the kitchen to make her nightly cup of tea. Realizing she should probably be a decent host, she decided to offer him some. He’ll probably say no, but what the hell.

“I’m making some tea, you want some?” Yup. Nailed it. Host of the year, here I come.

“No, thank you.” Knew it. Why’d I even ask. She chastised herself inwardly.

Accepting defeat, she filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove to warm as she gathered the rest of her ingredients. The water now hot, she poured a bit into the bowl, discarding it after she swished it around. She opened the cannister, taking a small scoop of the powder to press through the sieve. An equally small amount of water was carefully poured into the bowl before she began whisking, now calmed by the familiar routine. As she lost herself in the task, a small voice cut through her thoughts.

“… is that Sei-un?”

She paused, turning to look at him, pleasantly surprised. “You can smell that through your mask?”

“Yes… it’s my favorite.”

“Mine too! I mean, I enjoy it. A little.” She said pulling back her excitement. “Would you like some tea now?” she tempted, raising a brow. It was nice to meet a fellow matcha enthusiast, though the circumstances may not have been ideal.

“… Yes. But I need to see you make it, so you do it properly.”

“Oh, so you don’t trust my expertise?” she asked, slightly offended, but used to his fussiness by now.

“I trust your taste, but no I do not trust this alleged ‘expertise’ when it comes to preparation.” He began as he walked into the kitchen to stand next to her at the counter.

“Pssh. Nothing ‘alleged’ about these moves. Watch and learn.” Nanami expertly sifted the powder and  whisked until a layer of foam formed at the top, letting her know it was ready to be served. She took a teacup and gracefully poured the mixture, sliding it over to him triumphantly. He picked up the cup, bringing it up to his nose to take in the aroma before Nanami realized he would have to take off his mask to enjoy her concoction. “Oop! Sorry,” She said covering her eyes with one hand as she motioned him to drink with the other.

“You know you don’t have to… Nevermind.” He said before pulling his mask down to take an appraising sip.

She heard a content sigh and rustling as she spread her fingers to peek through, catching a glimpse of his now-serene gaze, “…So?” She asked eager for his response.

“This… is good.” He responded sincerely and Nanami found herself beaming at the confirmation of her expert moves. “But let me show you how it’s really done.”

He went through similar steps, his movements precise and measured as though he’d done it a million times before. There was a peacefulness in him she’d only seen glimpses of in the lab as he carefully prepared the cup for her. She found herself wishing she could see this side of him more often.

After finishing, he confidently, slid the cup over to her waiting to gauge her reaction. She grasped it with both hands, taking in the scent before sipping. She closed her eyes, relaxing for what felt like the first time today. There was nothing like having a hot cup of tea after a long day but having someone else make it for you made it that much better. “I can’t lie, this is great. Nice and smooth.” She replied earnestly. Their eyes met and there was a contentment in his gaze she was happy to see. Realizing they were once again too close, she broke the eye contact, to her dismay finding it was getting harder with each time.  She walked over to the couch to sit and enjoy the rest of it, hopeful she could shake off the growing tension before they had another repeat of whatever had happened earlier in the lab.

She heard footsteps from behind her as he returned to sit on the couch, leaving a safe amount of space between them.

“So… have you ever tried using a milk frother?” She began.

He turned to her, an incredulous look in his eyes, “Are you trying to insult me?”

“What? No, I just had a friend recommend it since it’s faster, but it kinda defeats the purpose to me. Making it is half the fun, so why rush?”

He regarded her, pleasantly surprised, “I couldn’t agree more…”

They continued trading tips and tricks for the next hour, Nanami going on a tangent rather passionately, as he listened intently to her speech about the best tea snacks and why they weren’t pickled plums. Overhaul himself becoming rather animated as he rated and critique how adequately (Kurono) or terribly (Rappa) each of the Precepts prepared tea, unsurprisingly rating himself the highest. The caffeine began to wear off and she tried to stifle a yawn. “I think I’m going to try and get some sleep.”

“That would be wise.” He confirmed, politely shooing her off.

Rubbing her eyes, she took her cup to the sink to rinse it off, swearing she’d clean the rest in the morning. Before she made it down the hallway, she had an epiphany and turned back to the living room.

“I’m so sorry, there’s a guest room here you can use. It’s right down the—”

“No need. I won’t be sleeping.” He responded, cutting her off as he glanced out her window.

“Oh. Well, in case you change your mind or doze off,” she said, her voice trailing off as she went into the spare room, coming back with blankets and pillows placing them on the sofa, “these babies are freshly laundered.” She began walking towards her room before turning again, “Thank you for coming by…Goodnight.” It was almost a whisper as she found herself too nervous to raise her voice further.

Before she closed her bedroom door, a voice called back, “You’re welcome, goodnight.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Saturday morning came and Nanami awoke, feeling surprisingly well-rested considering what happened the night before. Stretching, she rolled out of bed, checking her phone for texts while making a b-line to the kitchen to make some breakfast. Walking into the living room, she saw him perched by the window, checking his phone. Hearing footsteps, he glanced towards her, doing a double-take before assessing the visage fully.

Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her chestnut skin smooth and glowing from a good night’s rest. The skylight in her apartment let in a stream of sunlight that made her silver hair shimmer as it cascaded down her shoulders. She stood in the doorway, relaxed, looking every bit an angel with bed head and silly house shoes. Slowly pocketing his phone to give her his full attention, he cleared his throat, now reassured that staying the night had been the right decision.

Judging by his stunned silence, Nanami was sure she must have looked like a hot mess. I knew I should’ve changed first, but no I just had to listen to my stomach and waltz out here. Who even wears bunny slippers anymore? She cringed inwardly knowing he would never forget this sight, though she had thoroughly misjudged why. Quickly brushing her hair into a more socially acceptable state with her fingers, she fidgeted under his gaze, wishing he would say something—anything—and put her out of her misery. She decided to strike first, unable to stand the silence any longer. “G-good morning! I’m gonna put on some coffee,” she spluttered, “I was also going to make some breakfast too—nothing crazy, of course—would you want any?” She sincerely hoped he would throw her a lifeline and respond, but his eyes were glued to her.

After letting her squirm a bit longer, he rose “There’s no need. I have to head back as there’s an interrogation to conduct. Keep your phone on your person this time. I’ll be in touch… Thank you for your hospitality.” He gave a subtle bow, leaving before she could form a response. Nanami watched him go, a part of her wishing he’d stayed a bit longer.

Brushing off his abrupt departure, she began texting Hitomi to coordinate their joint errand run. Remembering she still had a normal life to get back to.

H: You ready?

N: Yeah, just gonna throw on some clothes real quick

H: Cool. Be there in 15 😊

N: Like... actual 15 or “I just rolled outta bed” 15?

H: … Be there in 30

N: Mmhm~

Deciding it would be more fun to pick up breakfast treats with her friend, Nanami went back into her room to change. She picked out one of her favorite old band tees, some loose ripped jeans, and her favorite chunky sneakers, putting her hair into a ponytail with a fluffy scrunchy. It had been about 20 minutes since Overhaul left when she heard her other phone buzz on her nightstand. Pretending she wasn’t eager to answer, she casually walked over to the phone answering on the third ring.

“Answer on the first ring next time.”

“Wow, well hello to you too, sunshine.” A sigh could be heard on the other line and she would bet money he was already massaging his temples, “What’s so urgent?”

“Have you heard the name Dr. M?”

“Hm… no, doesn’t ring a bell. Why do you ask?” in the background she heard distinct cracking and whimpers. “… Overhaul, why are you asking me this and what is going on in the background?”

“If this interrogation goes well, then soon we’ll both know. Until then, keep your phone on you.” The line clicked. Having to set broken bones before, the cracking noises she’d heard in the background weren’t much of a mystery.

Before she could let her mind wander about the “interrogation”, her doorbell rang. Putting both phones in her bag, she went to the door, seeing through the peephole that it was Hitomi. She opened the door, giving her friend a warm embrace.

“Ready to go?”

“Actually, need to use your bathroom first, if you don’t mind. My bladder and I have not been on the same page lately.”

Chuckling, she let her friend through, “No problem, have at it.”

As Hitomi stepped through the door, her face dropped. “Something’s different.”

Thankfully Hitomi had her back turned to her or else she would have seen Nanami’s dodgy glances as she prayed her friend didn’t investigate further. Getting her involved was dead last on a very long list of things she wanted to do. “What are you talking about? Nothing’s changed,” she laughed nervously.

Hitomi began eyeing the place suspiciously before taking in a big whiff. Nanami watched the scene unfold in slow motion as she was powerless to stop it. Her eyes fell on the pillows and blankets on the couch, then the genkan where her shoes had been displaced by another pair, then—the final nail in the coffin—the set of tea cups that had been cleaned and neatly placed on the counter. Before she could appreciate that he’d cleaned up for her, Hitomi spoke, “… Who is he.”

“N-no one! I mean what are you talking about?”

“I smell…” she inhaled and paused for dramatic effect, “a man.”

“That’s me. I ran through the men’s section of a department store earlier. Got bombarded with samples.”

“The stores aren’t even open yet, you have your best linens folded neatly on the couch, and you have not one—but two—cups out that you only drink your special matcha tea in. Spill. The. Beans.”

“You can’t make me as there is nothing to spill.” Nanami deadpanned, as her phone rang. Judging by the ringtone, she knew it was the one she only used for Overhaul. Shit.

“… You gonna answer that?”

She knew she had no choice as she reluctantly retrieved the offending object, answering the call. She looked down, refusing to make eye contact with Hitomi who was already thinking of a million questions to ask. “Hello?”

“Ok. I know you’re intelligent. So why after I ask you to answer on the first ring do you then wait an additional three rings the next time I call?”

“Oh hey, Mrs. Ito! How are you?”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that! I’m doing great as well, thank you for asking.”

“Ok, I’m taking back my intelligent comment.”

“Well aren’t you a hoot n’ a half! But can I call you back later? I’m about to go out on a girl’s day with my friend here.”

“… You’re really bad at this.”

“Oh, thank you! You’re too kind!”

“Text me when you can talk freely. Until then, get acting lessons.” She could hear a slight chuckle under his breath.

“Well that sounds great, I’ll talk to you soon! Oh, and I’ll be sure to put a big ol’ mark in my planner for you, ok? Buh-bye!”

“Wait, that didn’t even cou—” he began to protest as she hung up.

As she was already writing her Oscar acceptance speech for the performance in her head, she confidently pocketed her phone. Though when she glanced back up, Hitomi gave her a pitiful look, “He’s right, you are really bad at this.”

“Ok look, I can explain, I—”

“Hey, if you’re going this far to try and hide him, then I’ll take the hint and wait until you’re ready to tell me. I know you’re not very experienced with dating and all so I’ll give you a break for now… though judging by your glow this morning I’d say someone already came to give you a break, or should I say to ‘break you off’.” She said wiggling her brows.

Nanami narrowed her eyes in confusion for a beat, before she caught on, “What do you—OH NO. NONONO. Nu uh. None of that happened—or ever will happen.”

“Calm down, I’m just teasing. But when it does happen, just let me know if you need any tips. No need to make your first time your last, amiright?” Hitomi said much too suggestively for her liking as she tried to get his voice out of her head.

“Let’s… let’s just go.”

“Anything you want sweetcheeks,” she winked as she went to the restroom before they left.

As they got into the car, Hitomi listed off where they needed to go and decided it’d be best if she went to the post office first. While Nanami waited in the car, she texted Overhaul she had a moment. Almost instantly the phone rang.

“Well aren’t yo—”

“We need to talk.”

[vertanimeni]

the ice will start to break, the day will fade away (5/18)

Summary:

“Have you heard? The Elephant of Caocin has committed high treason!”

From Trikru’s most reputable war hero to Trikru’s most wanted traitor, Kova found themselves stripped of their titles and trapped between a clan that wants them dead and a camp of invaders - the same ones who kidnapped and tortured their brother.

But Kova was willing to do anything to stay alive and keep their family together.

Pairing: Bellamy/Grounder OC

Word Count: 6,277

TW: Canon typical violence, injuries.

A/N: Hi hi! After some convincing from my friends, I decided to post this series here :D I’ve already finished with season 1 and half of season 2, I’m just in the middle of re-writing and editing. If you’re reading through my blog, the read more does not show up due to Tumblr’s new formatting, so please click on the post itself. I’ll be updating every other day at 12pm EST. Anyways, hope you enjoy it!

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v. intervention.

The sole fact that the Ankwon Bridge stood tall and proud despite the dry creek underneath, despite having gone through neglect, a nuclear war, renovation, and more neglect, was an impressive feat on its own. The debris scattered across the floor and the crumbling sides and edges made it quite obvious that it had been abandoned, or at the very least, hadn’t been used as often, for trading or otherwise. After all, there were faster routes to get to southwest Trikru, and with no villages or people for miles down this road, it became an unpopular course.

Which is why Kova couldn’t hide their surprise when they found someone casually leaning against the railings, as if she had been waiting there for a while now.

Knowing their tendency to accidentally sneak up on others, Kova made sure to step with a bit of extra pressure on a few dried leaves and twigs. Octavia turned at the noise. Her eyes landed on Kova, and she gave them a wry smile. They dipped their head in acknowledgment. Octavia might be Lincoln’s… interest, but that didn’t mean Kova would drop their guard just for—

“No sword to the throat? I thought you liked me?” Octavia couldn’t help but tease, a sly smile on her face.

The muscle underneath Kova’s eyes twitched. They blinked once. twice. Octavia could have sworn for a brief second she saw the corners of their lips twitch, too. Suddenly Kova’s chest spasmed as a light laugh tumbled out without restraint.

Alright. Maybe they could warm up to her.

Once they calmed down and cleared their throat (pointedly ignoring Octavia’s wide eyes), they held out their forearm. Without hesitation, Octavia gripped theirs with her own, and her smile was much more natural when they squeezed lightly.

“Wanna sit with me while we wait for the others?” She asked.

“…mn.”

Since they were early, the two sat on the edge of the bridge, legs hanging over the side and arms resting on top of the lower railings. And to Octavia’s shock, Kova easily plopped down by her side, letting their shoulders touch.

“Lincoln talked about you a lot.” There was no hint of malice in Octavia’s tone, just curiosity. “He mentioned why you can’t take off the mask. Don’t worry, I’ll do my best to make sure you can stay with us while everything clears up.”

“Mn. Thank you. I appreciate it.” They faced her and bowed their head slightly. “He talked about you as well.”

Well. More like gushed. A lot. He had been telling Kova as much as he could about Octavia, probably to put the woman in a favorable light. But she was doing just fine on her own.

Her cheeks flushed at their words.

After that, conversation flowed out naturally. After all, both sides were equally curious about the other. Octavia spoke about how difficult life was on the Ark. She spoke of the prison system, her trauma of being thrown in the sky box just for being born (and that added a whole new conversation topic on the Ark’s justice system — Octavia never thought she would see the day where she had to explain how the justice system worked and try to defend the justification behind her imprisonment, but here she was.)

But she also spoke of the parties, the view of the moon and stars and the sun with its solar flares, and how different and freeing it was to live here, with friends, clean fresh air, and the ticklish grass underneath her feet (although she had to admit, she hated the mosquitoes and bugs that tried to sneak in her tent.)

Octavia had to admit, she liked the way Kova listened intently while they watched the distant landscape, with a few hums of acknowledgments and agreements, a few frowns and worried glances when she mentioned the sky box and her “crimes.” Almost exactly like how Lincoln had reacted when she told him.

“What about you? What’s your sob story?” She couldn’t help but ask at the end of her history.

Seeing as Octavia laid out most, if not all her history and secrets and worries bare to them, Kova couldn’t help but want to do the same. Well, not all their secrets, maybe not even most, but more than anyone would know.

(Except for Lincoln, of course. He knew everything.)

So Kova explained what it was like to live on Earth. They spoke about Trikru, about how Trikruvians are expected to train in the militia for 20 years before they’re allowed to opt out, how they themselves so desperately wanted to opt out early and work full time in prosthetic handling, something they thoroughly enjoyed on the side. They spoke about how tired they were of training, of fighting battles after battles, wars after wars (Kova could tell Octavia sat up a little straighter, as if she wanted to delve more into that topic, but Kova sent her their most nicest glare and she thankfully didn’t press into that open wound.)

But they also spoke of the ceremonies and celebrations, the drinks and foods with spices so ferocious tears would bundle at the corners of their eyes, the delicate warmth of fire after a night of fishing in the river, the stars and moon twinkling above them, the smell of the earth after it rains, and the way the trees move with the winds.

(They told her they hated the bugs just as much, if not more, than she did. And if they get the chance to, they would show her which plants keep them away.)

A comfortable silence fell between them as the sun began to rise higher in the sky. Both of them needed a moment to gather their bearings. After all, two weeks ago they hadn’t known the other person even existed, and in Octavia’s case, she was getting used to the fact that she was practically an alien on a planet her ancestors were from.

Surprisingly (or maybe not, due to the nature of their question), Kova broke the silence with, “Can I ask what your intentions are with my brother?”

Octavia nearly choked on her spit. She leaned over the railing as she coughed, but eventually broke out into a laugh. “Are you giving me a shovel talk?”

Thumping her back, Kova couldn’t help but soften their eyes. “No. But I am curious.”

“Huh. Well, I’m interested in your brother.” Octavia’s cheeks flushed. She suddenly found her nails interesting and picked at them. “Really interested.”

“Do you like him?”

“Yeah.” She would have been more shocked at her quick answer if she hadn’t known her feelings already. “I do. A lot.”

Of course, this entire time Octavia knew she had been talking with Kova, Lincoln’s sibling. But it suddenly struck her as fast as a train that this was Lincoln’s sibling. As in the person closest to him in the entire world. Shouldn’t she be proving her feelings towards their brother? Shouldn’t she say more than ‘I like him a lot?’

“Mn.” Kova nodded slowly, unaware of Octavia’s sudden flustered panic. “Good.”

Octavia paused. “Good?”

“Good. As long as he’s happy, you don’t have to worry about me.”

A pause.

Ah.

So it was a shovel talk.

The two made eye contact. Octavia was the first to burst out into a light laugh, one that made the corners of Kova’s lips quirk up. Yeah. They could see where Lincoln’s infatuation came from.

Their conversation ended when Kova’s ears picked up the crunch of leaves and twigs in the forest closest to them. They snapped their head to the side, alerting Octavia. The two stood up just as three figures came out of the forest. Despite Kova’s mask in the way, Octavia understood the questioning look they gave her, and gave them a safe nod.

One girl, presumably Clarke, and two boys, one of which Kova easily recognized as Finn, the boy Lincoln had stabbed.

“So that’s how you set this up.” Clarke’s eyes glanced between the boys behind her and Octavia. “You helped that grounder escape, didn’t you?” An all too familiar accusatory tone laced her words.

That word didn’t seem nice. Hmm. She reminded Kova of General Tristan. That was already a bad sign. Before Octavia could respond, Kova stepped in between her and Clarke. “The ‘grounder’ you speak of is my brother,” Kova bit out, “and it was I who rescued him.”

“You? How?”

Kova dipped their head ever so slightly, locking eyes with Clark dead on. “If you truly do not know, then I believe you should update your security measures.”

To Octavia, Kova’s personality did a complete 180 compared to who she had been talking to a few moments beforehand. Now she understood what Lincoln had meant when he said, ‘They might be cold to you at first, maybe even sharp, but once you get to know them, they’ll warm up.’ They were neither of those things when they had started talking, but now…

Their straight and tall posture displayed for all the confidence of someone who had expertise of these situations, of someone who took no shit, of someone who had been there, done that. Kova’s presence certainly created a challenging atmosphere, one that Lincoln would find in handy.

Clarke, poor Clarke, grew both uncomfortable and seemingly irritated at the sudden switch in the situation, her face going tight and her eyebrows wrinkling. “I see. Who are you? Are you the one I’m meeting with today?”

Kova didn’t respond, they merely stared at her. The skin under their eyes twitched, a movement Octavia recognized from before. Ah. She wanted to smack herself in the forehead for not realizing, and she suddenly found herself in the same place as Kova, struggling to hold back her laugh.

Imagine? Imagine if Kova had been the Lieutenant? Imagine if the sky people had tortured the brother of the Lieutenant they were meeting with today? What a stroke of bad luck that would have been — the sky people wouldn’t even be able to negotiate a way out of their situation. Hell, they would be fortunate if they made it out of the bridge alive.

Oh, to most people Clarke’s face seemed stone cold, but Octavia could practically feel the panic thrumming in waves from the sky people’s leader. Taking pity, she took charge. “This is Kova.” Octavia placed a hand on their shoulder. “They’re the one helping us today with Lieutenant Anya.”

They raised an eyebrow at that. “The Lieutenant? Not the Chief?”

“Nope, Lincoln said it would be best to skip the Chief and went straight to the Lieutenant. I was shocked too.”

Octavia truly had intense whiplash from Kova’s sudden personality change, and didn’t know how to respond when they gave her a succinct nod. Thankfully, Octavia didn’t have time to over think it, because Kova started talking.

“My brother, despite everything, was kind enough to set up this meeting between you and the Lieutenant. You must provide her with good reasons why Trikru shouldn’t declare war. If she thinks it is sound, then she will pass the message on to the Commander. Did you prepare?”

“Naturally. I—” Clarke paused. Something caught her attention behind Kova. But just as Kova turned to look, something bright shined across their eyes for a brief moment. Their gaze turned to the tree line over the bridge. They switched their gaze to Octavia when her warm hand left their shoulder. She ran across the bridge to—

Lincoln.

He jogged towards them from the other side. He must have came after talking with the Lieutenant. Kova used the distraction to coax Clarke to the side of the bridge. She followed with little reluctance, as if knowing what Kova would say.

They jutted their chin towards the bank of the dry creek. Clarke’s back-up contrasted severely against the green bushes. Kova’s mere presence seemed to have forced Clarke’s back-up out of their hiding spot behind the bushes for a better view.

“Guns aren’t permitted. If the Lieutenant sees them, she’ll kill you on the spot.” Kova stated. “But seeing as you all seemed to have been taught to use them, you are allowed to have use them, so long as those three,” They jutted their chin once more. “can hide properly. I have to say, it is physically hurting me to see how careless they are.”

Flustered, Clarke turned around to face the trio. She signaled them to move back, to hide themselves lower in the thickets. Once they were concealed properly, Clarke gave Kova a silent nod of gratitude before heading back to the others waiting for her.

Kova remained where they stood. They stared silently into the distance before turning their sharp gaze on the trio. Based on the rustling of the bushes, Kova must have startled them. Satisfied with their coverage, they sent them a thumbs up before heading back to their position.

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It had been a struggle to set up the guns at the bank of the dried river, but Raven, Jasper, and Bellamy managed to make it work despite all the foliage around them. Jasper muttered under his breath in the background while Raven and Bellamy remained posted by the guns. The two figured it was best for him to let off some steam by organizing their water and snacks.

Raven looked through the optic of her rifle towards the bridge. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Hey, where did Octavia come from?”

The fear that shot throughout Bellamy was enough for him to grab his rifle and peep through the optic. Jasper followed suit and said, “Who’s the grounder next to her?”

Well, they certainly weren’t the grounder that escaped the camp not too long ago. That one was bald, brown skinned, and tall. This one had long dreads, dark skin, and although they were tall, they weren’t as tall as the other one. There wasn’t much else they could say about the new grounder, since an intricate mask covered the entirety of their face.

“Do you think that’s who Clarke’s supposed to meet?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Bellamy muttered before taking aim.

Raven immediately pushed his gun down by the muzzle, an appalled look on her face. “Bellamy, what do you think you’re doing?”

He pulled his gun back, his famous scowl back on his face. “Waiting for this shitshow to blow up.”

“What—?”

Before Raven could scold him, Jasper interrupted with, “Guys, somethings going on.”

The three of them looked through the opticals. There was movement in the trees opposite of their side of the bridge before someone came jogging out. It was the same grounder they had captured!

“What’s Octavia doing— Oh.”

Octavia had practically thrown herself into the grounder’s arms. The two embraced one another tightly. There was no question what their relationship could possibly be.

Jasper felt his heart sink deep into his chest, a pain strong enough to make the scar throb.

“Well, I guess we know how he got away now.” Raven remarked with a smirk, unaware of Jasper’s change in mood and purposefully ignoring the way Bellamy seethed with anger. Her eyes flickered back to their side of the bridge. “We got movement with Clarke and the new grounder.”

The trio watched carefully. To their shock, the grounder jutted their head directly towards them without sparing a glance. For a moment, the trio panicked, under the assumption that they had been caught by this grounder leader, and thus destroying the chance at a deal. But because of the mask, they couldn’t tell the grounder was still talking until, to their shock, Clarke turned and signaled for them to move farther back behind the foliage.

The trio did as told without hesitation.

Once Clarke felt satisfied, she nodded to the grounder, as if showing her thanks, and made her way back to Wells and Finn. Huh.

“What was that about?”

“Are both grounders helping us?”

The grounder hadn’t moved, even long after Clarke left their presence. Now that they were heavily covered by surrounding bushes, Bellamy knew there was little to no way the grounder could directly see them. But as he peered through his optical, the grounder seeemd to have looked straight at him. He hated the shudder that ran up his spine.

After a moment, as if scanning their area, the grounder sent them a discreet thumbs up before turning away and heading out of sight.

“It seems like we have a new friend?” Raven elbowed Bellamy’s side. Not wanting to decipher whatever look she was giving him, he turned away.

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Back on the bridge, Kova joined the rest of the group and clapped Lincoln’s shoulder. “How’s everything?”

He nodded briefly. “The Lieutenant is pissed, but she’s willing to—”

The bridge under their feet rumbled, followed by the sounds of hoofbeats. The two Trikruvians winced at the familiar noise, but the invaders had no idea what it was, and their eyes flickered across the bridge in a crazed panic.

Clarke looked past the group and towards the other side of the bridge. “Oh my god,” Her mouth dropped slightly in excited shock, “are those horses?”

“Don’t look too happy about it.” Kova muttered.

Three horses came into view, Anya in the lead with two warriors beside her. The two warriors carried swords, but it seemed the Lieutenant did not.

“Hey, we said no weapons.” Finn protested, placing him between Clarke and the other side.

“We were told there wouldn’t be.” Lincoln glanced at Kova, as if to say ‘guess you were right.’

“It’s too late now.” Clarke brushed past Finn and made her way to the middle of the bridge.

He and Wells sent each other a look before stepping forward, as if to follow her. Until Kova and Lincoln stuck their arms out, shaking their head. “No. She has to go alone.”

“But—”

“I’ll take responsibility. I won’t let anything happen to her — you have my word.” They placed a hand on Wells’ shoulder, as sturdy as their gaze. Wells and Finn glanced at one another, then to Octavia, who gave them a subtle nod. The two boys conceded and went to sit next to her.

Kova could feel the heavy weight of Lincoln’s worried gaze once the two boys were out of earshot. “Don’t stress.” They murmured and lightly bumped their shoulder against his. “You focus on making this crazy ass plan of yours work. I’ll focus on keeping the kids alive.”

Out of the corner of their eye they saw him practically break his neck to look at them in shock. They would have found his reaction hilarious if it weren’t for their situation.

“…kids.”

Kova nodded. “Kids. They’re only two or three years older than Artigas. So. They’re children to me. I feel like I should say be something about you and Octavia…”

Lincoln stiffened.

“…but I already had a talk with her earlier. It all seems good. Treat her well.”

“…of course.”

Their conversation fell off after that once Lieutenant Anya walked up to the meeting point, holding the confidence of someone with three decades of warrior and battle experience under her belt. Not once did she waver, nor did her expression change during her talk with Clarke. To Kova and Lincoln, this was a good sign, and the two of them relaxed their tense bodies ever so slightly, arms crossed, leaning against one another.

“They seem to be doing fine so far.” Kova commented quietly, as if their voice could carry across the bridge.

“Mn.”

“How does it seem like they’re doing fine?” Wells’ panicked voice would have surprised the two siblings if they hadn’t heard his feet snap what seemed like every twig littering the bridge. “Your Lieutenant looks like she’s about to kill her at any moment.”

“But the fact is, she hasn’t.” Kova pointed out. “She hasn’t even glanced at her weapons, if she has any. It’s a good sign that your leader isn’t completely incompetent, at least.”

Truthfully, Kova regretted the words as soon as they left their lips. Even they could tell when their words were too harsh, and it was quite obvious they had offended Wells, as well as Finn who came up to them. The two boys straightened to their full heights. But before they could defend their leader—

“They’re about to shoot! CLARKE!” A boy’s voice bellowed from the bank of the bridge. “RUN CLARKE! THERE'S GROUNDERS IN THE TREES!”

Everyone twisted their head towards the noise, but Lincoln was the one who ran up to the side of the bridge only to find a sky boy at the bank of the dried creek, still shouting to warn his leader. “Clarke brought back-up?”

“Mn—” Before Kova could elaborate, gunshots rang throughout the area. The leaves were still plenty and bountiful, but even the trees couldn’t hide the thumps! of bodies hitting the ground. Too many bodies, actually.

Heart hammering against their chest, breath hitched, Kova found themselves trapped in their thoughts until someone bumped into their shoulder running by them. Before they could react, Lincoln stepped in front of the runner. Wells barreled into Lincoln’s arm, calling out Clarke’s name in fear, but Lincoln was much stronger than the younger boy and dragged him away from the bridge. “Don’t! The scouts will shoot you down.”

Lincoln had only been expecting at least one of the three sky people to try and run across the bridge to save Clarke, which is how he had managed to catch Wells easily. Yet when he looked back to Octavia and Finn behind him, Wells in his arms, he caught a glimpse of someone sprinting past him.

He had almost called out their name. Almost. He managed to stop himself, thankfully. But with no way to help them, he felt useless.

His grip around Wells tightened.

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Clarke had heard of the flight, fight, and freeze response, but there were no predators in space, and she had no idea what it truly felt like until now. She had only looked away from Lieutenant Anya for a moment — just for a single moment — when a strong shiver ran up her back, her body stiffening, hair standing on end, a heavy pit forming deep in her gut.

On instinct she turned back, raising her arms to protect herself (from what?). She only managed to catch a glimpse of shiny silver and the screech of metal scraping against metal before she felt someone’s hand on her shoulder, pulling her away.

The sheer unexpected force of the defensive move sent the Lieutenant’s arm reeling back. She stumbled over the debris of the old bridge. Kova stood in Clarke’s place, one hand holding a dagger and the other a barrier between the two.

The Lieutenant gathered herself and stepped forward to attack. Everyone flinched at the sound of a loud bang! followed by the sound of a bullet hitting its mark. Kova looked only to find the Lieutenant on the floor, clutching her shoulder and roaring in pain.

Not one to waste an opportunity, they grabbed Clarke by the back of her arm, shouting, “Go, go!”

“Fire!”

Kova paled. They looked over their shoulder as the two ran. The two warriors the Lieutenant had brought were now at her side, two large shields across their back. From the forest, as if in slow motion, dozen arrows shot up in the air, followed by half a dozen more. They had practiced how to avoid the arrows in training by prediction, but not once did Kova consider they would actually have to use this information against their clan.

Their predictions found a safe zone up ahead. If they had been alone, they would have made it with ease. But Clarke had neither the stamina nor the speed to reach it in time.

‘Ah. I took responsibility.’

They jammed their dagger back into its sheath and tackled Clarke to the ground, using their own body as a shield.

The arrows darted around the two. They counted each sound of seventeen arrows embedding into the ground around them, wincing at #14 who landed just by their head. For a moment, Kova wondered what happened to #18 when they felt a scorching fire shooting up from the outside of their left calf.

They looked over. The arrow sliced their pant leg and barely nicked their skin, thankfully avoiding Clarke altogether, but the pain grew intense with every throb of their heartbeat to the point of sudden intense nausea. They groaned, pressing their forehead against the cement below and gritting their teeth, taking deep breaths, eyebrows scrunched together.

Ah, unfortunately this pain was all too familiar for Kova. Trikru’s archers could be quite deadly when they wanted to be, and it wasn’t below them to dip arrowheads into vials of fire ant venom. If potent enough and in the right place, it could kill a person. If this were another time, Kova could only thank the Gods for the luck they bestowed on them. 1, the arrow didn’t land in the right place. 2, the arrow only nicked them. 3, the venom was certainly not potent enough.

But as they rolled off of Clarke onto their back, facing the blue sky, their eyesight slowly going white, leg twitching in pain, they couldn’t bring themselves to even think, let alone thank the Gods.

The bridge rumbled with hoofbeats, and for a moment they thought they heard Clarke talking to them, but all they could manage was a quiet groan. Next thing they knew, they felt hands lifting them up and over someone’s shoulder. Their head lolled around, and in their haze, they thought Trikru might have captured them, and tried to fight back. Kova slammed tight fists into the person’s spine to let them go, only to be surprised that the person could take their hits without wavering. In reality, they were only lightly tapping the person’s lower back with loose, curled fingers.

“—they’ll be safer with you guys for now, so please take them with you. Run and don’t stop until you’re behind your walls.”

“…A-Lin?” Their question was barely audible, the cloudiness of both their head and vision intensifying. They waved a hand in his general direction. A pair of shoes popped into their vision, and a warm hand settled gently on the back of their head. “Good luck fixing all that.”

“Thanks.” Kova could hear the small smile in his voice. “Don’t worry. I’ll come and find you when it’s all clear.”

“Mn.” They only managed to give a weak nod before their body finally gave up on retaining consciousness. But before they knocked out, they sent a thumbs up towards their brother.

***

Reluctantly, Lincoln brought his hand away, releasing a heavy sigh. He thanked Wells, who had offered to carry Kova. Wells could only nod, his face scrunched up as if all his energy went into holding them. Lincoln then turned to Octavia to give her a light kiss on the forehead before jogging off to where the Lieutenant had retreated to.

He had a lot of work to settle.

Just as he left their sight, Raven, Jasper, and Bellamy arrived at the foot of the bridge. The group merged and ran through the forest. Halfway through Bellamy noticed Octavia and Wells lagging behind and waved at them, urging them to hurry up, but he paused halfway through his wave, his face falling from disbelief to anger. “Why are you carrying that g—!”

“Bellamy, not right now!” Octavia snapped. “We don’t have time, and they saved Clarke.”

He opened his mouth—

“She’s right.” To everyone’s surprise, Clarke agreed. “Let’s bring them back now and talk about it later.”

As much as Bellamy wanted to argue, even he knew this wasn’t the right time nor place. “Fine. But we don’t have time for this,” he gestured vaguely to Wells’ trembling form, “either. Pass them over.’

If they weren’t in a dangerous situation, Wells would have felt at least a little offended. Instead, he passed the unconscious grounder over, Octavia helping with the process. Once Bellamy settled the grounder on his back, both arms curled under their legs, the group ran back to camp.

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The group slowed to a quick-paced walk once they were near the camp, much to Bellamy’s dismay. The grounder was heavy — there were too many times where he had thought he would topple over a root and under their weight. Now that the group no longer rushed through the foliage of the forest and the momentum was lost, the grounder felt even more burdensome — physically and mentally. How the fuck were they gonna explain why they brought a groun—

A steady, warm breath enveloped the back of his neck.

He detested the shiver running up his spine to the top of his scalp.

As if that weren’t enough, the next breath made its way between his leather jacket and shirt, leaving behind an even stronger warmth across his upper back.

The walk also meant Bellamy noticed little things from the grounder, like the loose arms across perpendicular to his shoulders, bouncing with every step, the expanding of their chest against his back, the twitch of their fingers—

The stiffening of thighs and calves against the hands underneath the back of their knees.

A soft groan.

Twitching fingers clenching, forming tight fists.

Before he could alert the rest of the group of the grounder’s awakening, the thighs in his hands suddenly pushed down with all their weight, forcing him to drop their legs.  The once loose arms suddenly wrapped across his abdomen—

Bellamy only caught a glimpse of Octavia and Wells turning towards him in shock before his world flipped. The trees and the sky streaked across his vision until his shoulder landed against the forest floor—

There was no pop, but something definitely shifted. He let out a loud groan and rolled to his front, leaning on his uninjured arm.

“Hey!”

“Wait!”

With everyone shouting, it was a wonder that Bellamy heard the sound of metal unsheathing. He fell back on his butt, narrowly avoiding the swipe of their dagger. He noticed the grounder stayed close to the ground, favoring their injured leg.

Unfortunately, taking note of this meant he couldn’t dodge the next swipe. He flinched with the cut to his cheekbone, warmth trailing down his face. In his panic, he scrambled back, trying to evade each strike until his back slammed against a tree.

Oh. Oh no.

The grounder reversed their grip on their knife, the butt of the blade against their thumb, and struck at his neck.

Bellamy might not have been the strongest in the Ark’s cadet force, but he certainly wasn’t weak. Yet when he blocked their attack, slamming his forearms into theirs, his other hand supporting and exerting more force, he found himself struggling under their strength. The dagger, shaking under the force of both sides, was far too close for comfort now.

His gaze rose from the pointed end to the grounder. He had expected the grounder’s eyes to be focused, sharp, merciless, piercing him just as the dagger would. Instead, he found wide eyes, shaky hazy pupils glazed over with pain and panic.

Blood rushed in his ears. He couldn’t hear the shouts and warnings from the others around them, except for one clear call.

“Kova!”

As if a spell broke, the grounder’s panicked eyes widened and looked to the side of the direction where the voice came from, breath hitching in their chest, the momentum of their strength trembling.

Bellamy struck the bottom of the grounder’s chin with the palm of his hand.

The mask clunked! against their face, the ribbons unraveling, and it slipped off, landing out of reach along with the dagger. The grounder fell back from their crouched position onto their butt, and for a brief moment, Bellamy thought he was safe. Until the grounder used the moment and rolled back, landing on their feet in fighting position, legs trembling, ready to strike with bare fists—

“Kova!”

The grounder’s dreads fell over their face, and before Bellamy could catch a clear look, Octavia stepped in between the two, holding her arms out in a placating manner. Briefly, Bellamy wondered when his little sister started growing up, and when did she start protecting him?

“It’s alright. You’re safe. This is my brother, the one I mentioned before. He helped us.”

The grounder didn’t respond. Fear spiked in Bellamy’s heart, but before he could move in front of Octavia, the grounder dropped their arms and fell to their knees, hunching over. Octavia cried out their name and rushed to their side without hesitation, pressing a hand against their chest to prevent them from falling over.

Using the tree behind him, Bellamy took the opportunity to stand and looked at his people. Clarke, Wells, Raven, and Jasper stood around, completely stunned. Whether by what just happened or because of Octavia, Bellamy couldn’t tell. “Thanks.” He grunted towards Jasper, the one closest to him.

“What, you expected me to go against that?”

“Are you okay?” Came Octavia’s hushed murmurs.

Bellamy turned to answer, only to find Octavia pressing the mask against the grounder’s face, helping them keep it on straight while the grounder reached behind their head and tied the ribbons firmly. Betrayal and anger bubbled slowly in his chest. “Shouldn’t you be asking me that?” He snapped.

Imagine his surprise when, while helping the grounder stand, Octavia sent him an annoyed look! Dumbfounded, he opened his mouth—

“Sorry, I’m sorry. Panicked.” The grounder murmured.

While Bellamy couldn’t catch a clear look of their face, he saw how they leaned heavily against his sister, head hanging, hunched over, one leg trembling worse than the other. How could one arrow cause so much damage? He wouldn’t have believed it for a second if not for the eyes he had seen behind the mask up close.

“Kova, you okay?” Octavia asked again. “What happened back there on the bridge? Lincoln didn’t tell us why you passed out like that.”

“Fire ant venom.” Kova gritted out. “Pretty common for Trikru to use in battle, not so common for them to use it during a negotiation meeting. Then again—” Full of resentment and anger, the single eye visible through their curtain of dreads landed on Jasper, who flinched and curled away from them. “—it wasn’t like they had much of a choice.” They glanced at Clarke before turning downcast, hiding away from the group. “They aimed for your leader’s heart. She would have died. I promised I would take responsibility.”

Wells and Finn startled ever so slightly at that. They sent each other a look Bellamy couldn’t decipher.

Suddenly, Finn turned to Clarke, an angry look with hints of betrayal flashed across his face. “I told you not to bring guns!”

“And I told you we couldn’t trust them, I was right!”

“You didn’t have to trust them, you just had to trust me.”

A bitter, weak laugh caught the two off guard. Everyone turned back to Kova. “Foolish boy. Take your fragile pride elsewhere.” They gritted out. “You should be praising your leader. It was smart to bring back-up.”

Before Finn could respond, he felt a hand grab his shoulder. He was face to face with a very angry Raven. “And why didn’t you tell me what you were up to?”

“I tried, but you were too busy making bullets for your guns!”

“The grounder’s right.” Hmm. That didn’t sit right in Bellamy’s mouth, but he continued. “You’re lucky she brought that. Those grounders came to kill you, Finn.”

“You don’t know that, Jasper fired the first shot!”

“A mix of both.” Said Kova. “Trikru, naturally, would be ready to kill, but not unprovoked. Just as your gunmen had their sights on the Lieutenant, the archers had their sights on Clarke. They only shot because of that one.” They jutted their head towards Jasper, who flinched and looked away, rubbing at his arms.

“Raven.” Octavia called gently. She noticed Kova’s words began slurring together gradually. “Help me bring them to my tent?”

“…sure.”

“Whoa,” Bellamy held Octavia’s free shoulder as she tried to pass him. “Who said they’re sleeping in your tent?”

“Where else would they sleep?”

“The dropship, obviously. What if they try to kill you?”

“That’s a stupid idea.” Octavia’s eyebrows scrunched into a frown. “Say we put them in the dropship. They wake up, can’t recognize their surroundings, and start panicking. Are you trying to get sliced up by them again?” Before Bellamy could respond, she kept going. “At least if they’re in my tent, they can recognize me, and recognize they’re safe, like they did now.”

“You don’t have to worry about Octavia.” Kova’s deep voice grew quieter and quieter every time they spoke, as if it took up all their energy to speak. “I’m not dangerous to anyone like this—”

‘My cheek says otherwise,’ Bellamy thought bitterly.

“—let alone to Lincoln’s… interest.”

“…interest.” Bellamy gritted out.

“Bellamy.” Clarke stood next to him, dropping a placating hand on his shoulder. “They saved my life. Twice, actually. Lincoln said it before — it’s not safe for them to return to the grounders since they helped us.” She turned to Raven and nodded. Raven returned the gesture and moved to Kova’s other side, swinging one of their arms around her shoulders. “We’re letting them stay. Bring them to Octavia’s.”

“Got it.”

With a sigh, fists on his hips, Bellamy had no choice but to reluctantly yield, stepping to the side. Octavia and Raven dragged Kova into the camp. Bellamy turned to Clarke, as if wanting to argue more, but before he could speak—

Boom!

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[whumpywhumper]

Humans

As much as I hate her separate work schedule--thanks @0idril0 for reading through this and encouraging me :) 

@comfy-whumpee I promise that my next Markus post is gonna be comfort, I just really wanted to do this 😅

Edit for Masterpost

****

The nest was quiet and dormant; the Elders sleeping, their young distracted amongst themselves. Sharing blood, wrapped together like a pit of vipers. 

Markus was also quiet, dazed and desperately seeking sleep, curled in a corner away from the door. His entire body ached with the myriad bites and bruises from too strong hands, from fractured bones, and heartache. From the venom that lingered in his blood stream. 

He missed Illyn. 

Shivering, he hugged his arms to himself, trying to hold himself still from the way his entire body felt like it was swirling. He had a blanket, but it was in the other corner. Too far away for the dizzy witch to grab. It didn’t matter. Markus was too tired. 

So tired. So tired from the way his body was constantly working to replenish his blood supply, so tired from the constant pain, so tired from constantly being cold. He could feel his heart working overtime, trying to pump his reduced blood supply through his body. It was a hollow thump against his breastbone, quickly outpacing his shallow breaths.  

Head dipping against his knees, Markus allowed himself to sink farther into sleep, his eyelids grating like sandpaper against his overwrought eyes. He just wanted to sleep, just wanted to go away for a while.  The world started to feel soft at the edges, fingers and toes tingling with lethargy. 

He was on the cusp of full sleep, breath coming slow, shivers finally subdued, when a noise echoed through the room. Voices. Just outside of the door. Markus tensed minutely, not fully aware, sleep numbing the instinctive fear to run or hide. God, he was so tired. He pressed his eyes deeper into his leg, a small hum of malcontent thrumming up his vocal cords. 

The door opened quietly, lock disengaging, the whispered voices silencing themselves as it creaked. He didn’t bother to raise his head, but he trembled, sleep falling away from him as he felt multiple sets of eyes on him. Footsteps echoed off of the concrete floor, and Markus flinched when the door was slammed back in place. What? That wasn’t normal. 

Slowly, he raised his head, muzzy and shaking with fatigue to look at the newcomers. 

Two men and a woman stood in front of him, staring down at him. The men were as different as two men could look. Both handsome but one short and stocky with light hair, the other tall with dark skin and hair. The woman was petite, her bubblegum pink hair cut close and sticking up enough to just tickle at the shorter man’s chin. The female and the light haired male, standing in front, looked down on him, contempt and anger shining through their eyes in equal measure. The third looked uncomfortable, feet shifting, looking over his shoulder at the door. 

Humans weren’t uncommon in a vampire nest, logically, Markus knew that. As much as Lucien looked down on humans in general, no one could deny that vampires were dependent on them. They were their history and their sustenance; their servants and their converts. But what were they doing here? 

Markus’s eyebrows drew together in confusion, a questioning noise working its way out of his mouth, “Wha-?” His lips were numb, tired, fumbling at his effort to form words. 

The lead male sneered, “This is what Lucien has been spending all of his time on?” He stepped forward, thick fingers gesturing at Markus’s slumped form, jean clad legs wisking together to stand in the middle of the room. He looked at the female, incensed, when Markus shrank away from him. “Can you believe this shit, Maggie? Look at him.” 

Maggie’s eyes flashed, and she pursed her lips. “Lucien is allowed to like what he wants, Kris,” she answered tightly, eyes skating up and down Markus’s bare skin. He swallowed, bewildered eyes darting between all of them. “As much as I hate it,” she muttered under her breath as she crossed her arms under her small breasts. 

“Guys, are you sure about this?” the third hissed, eyes wild. 

“Shut up, Joseph,” Kris snapped, “we’ve discussed this. It’s in the nest’s best interest; it’s within the nest’s rules. He’s a distraction, we’re getting rid of it. It’s that simple. It’s no more than we’ve done to others and been rewarded for, or don’t you remember?” 

“But—“ 

“No buts! You have your orders, neolate, follow them.”  He stalked forward, grabbing a fistful of Markus’s hair, easily ignoring the witch’s pitiful attempts to pry his hand away. “We’re doing what we have to do.” 

Markus cried out when his hair was pulled, strands snapping in the other’s hand as he was dragged into the middle of the room, scrambling to keep up with the cruel grip before his scalp separated from his head. Kris threw him to the ground with a snarl, making the weakened witch’s head bounce against the concrete. 

Stars swam in front of his eyes and a pulsing pain echoed through his cheekbone. He shuddered, trying to lift his head off the ground, chest hitching with ragged breaths as he tried to make sense of the situation. What the fuck was going on? 

“He’s right, Joseph,” Maggie said, coming to stand next to him as he pushed himself up. She also buried her hand in his hair, wrenching his head back hard enough to make him gasp. 

He grabbed her little hand where it was buried in his hair, the other grabbing at her shirt, dazed reaction trying to lessen the pain he was in. Stop, stop, please. His mouth moved, trying to form a plea or question past the knot of fear climbing up his throat. No sound other than a croaking, mumble made itself known, his eyes still trying to focus past the dizziness.  

Distaste was painted on Maggie’s features as she looked down at him, her blue eyes meeting his own with an upturned lip. “He’s a distraction, the nest can’t thrive with all of Lucien’s attention on this thing.”  The crack of her hand on his cheek echoed in the small room, the crisp sound distorting over the hard edges and soft bodies. 

The blow was a bright, stinging pain over his already bruised face, and he grunted at the impact, unable to catch himself as he careened back to the floor. He crumpled when he met the ground, breath starting to rasp in his throat. 

“You’re right, you’re right,” Joseph muttered, “I just don’t want Lucien mad at me.” 

A boot caught Markus in the ribs, throwing him onto his side as a different type of crack echoed through the room. Markus screamed when his ribs snapped, and he saw Joseph scramble forward, brown eyes huge. “Fuck!” Two dark hands slapped over his mouth, muffling his shout, the rest of his air leaving through his nose in a gust. Markus grabbed the man’s wrists, huffing pained sounds through his nose, eyes clenching shut over the agony that shuddered through him. 

Kris laughed, “You’re not going to be able to keep him completely quiet, Joseph.” 

“We need to keep him quiet enough not to arouse Lucien,” Joseph retorted, “or do you want him to come in here and see us?” 

“Lucien won’t rouse for hours. We need to do this right, Jo.” Maggie said, her voice coming from closer to Markus’s feet. 

Markus could hear Joseph’s teeth grinding at Maggie’s answer, but he slowly removed his hands from his mouth. The witch sucked in a sobbing breath, eyes fluttering open to look at the man still hovering over him. His mouth was pinched at the corners, eyes distressed. “He just didn’t want to hear me scream,” Markus realized. 

“Ple-Please,” Markus whimpered, hands still around Joseph’s wrist, “Please, d-don’t—“ 

Kris dragged Joseph off of Markus’s prone form, breaking his weak grip, and kicked him again. Markus cried out, trying to curl up, protect himself, but the man was relentless. “What we do is not up to you,” he snarled, foot snapping into his side with every word, kicking him in the stomach, forcing his way past his limbs to get to his soft belly. 

What little air Markus had managed to find rushed out of his mouth, small, ineffectual wheezing all he could manage under the assault. Sharp pain buckled under his ribs, gasps feeling raw and agonized even when the kicking stopped.  Black dots overtook his eyes, and he lolled on the ground, completely limp, unable to keep track of his tormenters as his vision swirled around the room. 

He couldn’t even think to fight when hands wrapped around his wrists, tugging him onto his back. All he could do was take tiny sips of air as his chest jerked sporadically.  He blinked, not sure how much time had passed when his eyes were finally able to focus. Joseph held his arms over his head, his long fingers able to wrap all the way around Markus’s wrists in a solid grip.   

Maggie sat on his legs, her small frame still easily holding his weakened legs down when they jerked. The girl was was looking at the door, humming to herself, a slight smile on her lips, but Kris was no longer in the room. Did he leave?

He tugged at the hands on his wrists, arms weak and shaking with adrenaline, trying to pull his hands free. “Guh,” a wreaked noise caught in his throat at the pounding pain from the way Joseph’s fingers made the broken bones in his wrist grind together. 

Joseph looked down on him, a tight determination in his eyes. “Be quiet, and they’ll make it quick,” he whispered.  

Swallowing thickly, Markus begged him, tears trickling down the sides of his face, “Wh-whate-v-ver you’re g-gonna do, please, d-don’t.” 

Shame twisted his expression, but his grip didn’t loosen on his wrists. He shook his head, pressing his lips together. “It’s not up to me. Just be quiet, and it’ll be over soon.”  

“Y-your name’s Jo-Joseph, right?” Markus asked, trying to keep his stuttering voice low. The man didn’t answer him, looking away, toward the door. “Jo-Joseph please,” he whimpered, “please, j-just let me g-go.” 

“Joseph,” Maggie barked, making them both cringe, “would you shut him up, pleeease?” 

Grimacing, Joseph wedged Markus’s unbroken wrist under his knee and wrapped his free hand around his throat. Markus coughed around his tongue, not even enough room in his throat to pull in a whistling breath. The bigger man didn’t say anything further, simply waiting until Markus went limp, eyelids fluttering against darkness, his breathless struggle quickly abating, before his big hand loosened its grip to let him draw in a ragged gulp of air. 

Kris re-entered Markus’s cell before his breath came back, before he could try and beg again. A knife was held in his hand, long and glinting in the overhead light, and a terrified whine forced its way out of Markus’s rasping throat. Oh fuck, nononono. The other man grinned at the noise, letting the door swing shut behind him. 

 “Please! Please, don’t do this!” Markus begged, trying to pull his limbs free of the strong grips they had on him. The witch tried to twist his way free, panic giving him another burst of strength. Maggie rode his legs easily, hands coming down on his hips to dig her thumbs into the divots of his torso, nails roaring into those pressure points. Joseph didn’t even budge, simply tucking Markus’s broken wrist under his other leg and getting a grip on his shoulders to pin him down. He screamed between his teeth, straining to get his arm free as Joseph’s patella crunched against broken bone. 

His heart was galloping in his chest, adrenaline forcing his body into fight or flight, but he couldn’t do anything. Eventually, the witch fell still, panting and shaking. Dread climbing up his spine as Kris walked closer. 

The smaller man knelt next to his chest, the tip of his blade tracing down the line of Markus’s sternum. Markus couldn’t keep his eyes off of the hand holding the knife, unable to lift his head and follow how it slid along his skin. His bruised and snapped ribs jerked and shuddered. Please, please, no. 

“How should I do this?” Kris whispered to the others, voice full of anticipation. 

“Do it quick, Kris,” Joseph said, “this doesn’t have to be messy.” 

Maggie made an indignant noise, “At least cut him a little, let them know how upset we are, right?” 

A sob caught in his throat, and Markus shook his head, trying to jerk away. “Please, ple-MMph!” 

Kris slapped a hand over his mouth, and Markus clenched his eyes shut, breaths coming quickly through his nose as the knife pressed deeper into the flesh of his stomach. “I didn’t ask you,” he hissed. “Matter of fact, nobody asked you, so I’m going to keep my hand here, and you’re not going to utter another word.” The knife dug deeper, sliding downward, and Markus screamed. He screamed, but even if he had said another word, all they would have heard was a muffled wail as the knife lifted away. 

Blood dripped onto Markus’s bare chest from the knife, ran in a river from his stomach, down his abs as they quivered. Oh god, fuck! 

Kris chuckled, tapping the blade against Markus’s cheek. His eyes flew open, jerking from the blade, between the people looming over him, to rest on Joseph. Silently begging. Pleasepleaseplease. 

He’d resigned himself to being bled dry by a vampire—not being stabbed to death by fellow humans. 

The man steadily ignored his gaze, glowering at Kris. “Get this over with, please.” 

“I don’t think so, Joseph, I think Mags’ is right.”  The knife dropped to his collarbone and Markus thrashed, back arching as the knife drug against the bone—from the middle and across to his left shoulder. He screamed, Joseph’s fingers digging bruises into his shoulders to keep him still, Maggie grunting as a particularly hard jerk of his leg jarred her. 

He tried to suck in air through his nose, eyes rolling into the back of his head. His chest heaved, ribs bellowing with pain, not getting enough oxygen. I can’t breathe, please, I can’t breathe. 

Everything became foggy as the pain continued, Markus shivering and moaning in distress when the knife skated down his ribs, across the vulnerable skin of his stomach, to press above Maggie’s hand and into the divot of his hip. The scream that left his mouth was piercing in the small room, even through Kris’s hand, as the knife was buried into the meat of his hip, through the muscle, and to the floor. 

White eradicated his sight, blood pounding in his ears in an overwhelming roar. He groaned when the knife was flicked, still impaled in his side, too weak to scream anymore, eyes glassy and unfocused. The hand over his mouth tightened cruelly, fingertips digging bruises into his face. “You still with us, pum’kin?” 

Stopstoppleasestop. Markus couldn’t actually form any kind of answer, barely heard the taunting voice above him. It echoed in his ears, soft and loud, close and far off. 

The hand moved off of his mouth to deliver a quick slap to his cheek, rousing the witch slightly to whimper at the motion, his head lolling to the side. 

“That’s enough, Kris, finish this.” 

A sigh, “Fine, you big baby.” 

All Markus can do when the knife is pulled out of his side, a wash of blood pouring out of him, is suck in a feeble breath that turns into a tiny keen tumbling from numb lips. He can’t try and pull his arms free, can’t kick his legs out from under the heavy weight of Maggie, can just watch as the knife—covered in his blood—is raised to rest just under his rib cage. His eyes flick upward, coming to rest on Joseph’s conflicted face. The man isn’t looking at him, has turned his face away, creases at the corners of his eyes like he wants to squeeze them shut and ignore what’s about to happen. 

Tears burned Markus’s eyes, made the room swim, distorted through water, but he couldn’t make himself close them—if this was going to be the last think he saw then so be it. The hand came back to rest over his mouth, trapping any last words he might have, as the knife  pressed into skin. Kris moved slow, pushing the knife into his chest, drawing a ragged moan out of his victim as pain continued to blot everything out. 

A deafening shriek pierced through the air, reminiscent of a long forgotten predator clawing at the background of the human psyche, seething fury dripping from the drawn out sound.  

“What-?”

“Oh fuck!”  

“Move!” 

His would be killers fled in a flurry over his prone form, the crushing weight on his wrists disappearing, the knife reversing course as the hand slipped from his face, the woman on his legs springing away. Markus couldn’t move, arms left stretched overhead, head limp on his neck. His chest automatically jerked in shallow gasps as the others bolted for the door. 

The metal shattered inwards before they could make their escape. The hair raising shriek turned into a bass roar, and a dark form engulfed the doorway. Markus couldn’t focus to make out the detail, but he felt the others freeze as energy snapped through the air. Glamor. 

Markus whimpered at the feeling of the energy in the air, Christine’s touch so fresh on his mind after the amount of agony that was inflicted on him, muscles clenching in a tiny tremble; the most he could do to get away. Kris, Joseph, and Maggie all hit their knees in a thump, the metal of the knife tinking off of the concrete. 

“Lucien,” breathed Maggie, fear dripping from her voice, “please, let us explain.” She raised her hands in supplication, the tiny trembling appendages coated in red.  A flinch was all she could manage before the vampire was on her—no golden hair or pale skin—simply gray desiccated flesh, dead hair, and a face out of nightmares. 

Black engulfed his eyes as he used his fangs to rip her throat out. A choked gurgle, and the petite woman was on the floor, her pink hair being swallowed by spurting and pooling blood. Her eyes staring in horror. Dead. 

Kris and Joseph screamed, the former trying to run while the latter collapsed onto his face, begging and covering his head with his arms. Lucien left Joseph on the floor, Maggie’s slowly growing pool of blood coming to leech its way across the face pressed into the concrete. 

A clawed hand latched onto Kris’s retreating shoulder, and all Markus could see was a body flying over him, feet completely off of the floor, impacting with a dull thud into the opposite wall. A choked moan followed the crumpling slide of a body hitting the floor. 

Lucien turned to Joseph, picking him up by neck, and holding the non-combative man aloft with ease. Red coated his mouth in a macabre decoration, his fangs glinting in the florescent light as he spoke, “You have two seconds to open yourself, and explain to me what happened, before I turn you over to Christine.” 

Joseph’s brown eyes were huge as he looked at the Elder vampire, Maggie’s blood trickling down his forehead. He nodded his head vigorously, and the energies gathered in the air again as Lucien plundered the human’s mind.  

Eyes sliding closed, Markus felt a numbing cold steal through his limbs, pain coming to him in distant lapping waves. 

“Illyn. . . Illyn, ‘m cold.” 

Something slapped against his cheek, the harsh blows barely registering. 

Please. . . don’t. . . 

The blows came again, a loud noise drilling into his ear, “-up! Markus! Wake. UP!”  

Markus summoned a tiny mewl of pain in the back of his throat, trying to turn his face away from the painful slaps. “That’s it, darling. Now, open your eyes—c’mon, look at me.” 

He whined at the demand. . . . can’t. . please. . .

“I know you’re tired, darling, please—open  your eyes.” Pain erupted over his sternum, and Markus groaned, trying to arch away. His hand flopped uselessly, eyelids fluttering, trying to see what was hurting him. A blurry shape hovered over his face as Markus’s eyes rolled in his head, gaze half-lidded. “There you are, hey beautiful, look at me.” A hand cupped his cheek, forcing his gaze upward. “Look at me.” 

Lucien. . . Markus tried to keep his eyes on the vampire, feeble breaths rocking his head with every inhale, but it was a losing battle. His eyelids were heavy weights that he had no chance of holding. 

“Fuck! Markus!” The voice came out of the dark. “Markus!” 

*** TO BE CONTINUED****

[heartfeltheart]

Alchemy: Tiny Steps

Chapters: 22/45 Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist/Harry Potter Rating: T Relationships: Edward/Winry, Lan Fan/Ling, and May/Alphonse. Primary Characters: Edward Elric, Severus Snape Additional Tags: Crossover, Teacher!Edward, BrOtp Edward/Severus. Sassy beyond measure. Pro!Snape Series: Part 2 of 9. Summary: Part two of the Alchemy Series.  Politics. Either you love it, hate it or you live it. For Alchemy Teacher Edward Elric, he lives it, hates it and loves it when he gets the upper hand. Here is to another year of hell… D/C: I do not own Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. Discord: La Red(Mesh Mash of… stuff.): https://discord.gg/KYjmVAb Alchemy Series: https://discord.gg/DejEYNJ

"One week. One week. Truth is punishing me. He is testing me." Alphonse kept muttering under his breath, as he watched Tuesday's class walked through the door of his brother's Alchemy class. Well, his class too next year. The main problem Alphonse had been that he wasn't prepared to fully take over his brother and his teaching style. He must continue on with Edward style of teaching and not his own, this is his year not his own. The reason for taking over for the week, Edward is still under guard of Madam Pomfrey's care for the semi-mild concussion to a severer one due to an unfortunate encounter with the school's poltergeist. Peeves had caused his brother to fall down some flights of stairs. There is no telling how long Edward will be decommissioned for the injury and recovery.

Edward will be okay, just needs to rest and the potions and magical remedies are helping the healing process to go faster. Here's hoping that he has a fast recovery.

With sigh, Alphonse pushed himself away from the desk he was leaning on when he heard the familiar ring of the bell. The classroom is filled to the brim with students, from first to seventh years. From the looks of it, he could already sense who has to leave and who could possibly stay. Picking up a clipboard from the desk and looked down to see that today's class focused on teaching the students the non-magical aspect in alchemy. He let out a mental sigh of relief at seeing Edward's side notes, showing that four students from the original class are in today's class, peer teaching by the looks of it.

Fred Weasley: He along with his brother, George Weasley, show a great aptitude in Alchemy. Remember who is who, they may be the same, but they are not. This Weasley still needs to have a deeper understanding the laws but still is miles ahead of his peers. It is noted that when he and his brother are together, their minds seemed to be linked together and are able to reach no bounds in their research. Warning: Chronic Pranksters.

Timothy Jerkins: Needs a huge dose of reality that not everyone is a stepping stone to supposed success. Appears to selfish and narcissistic, give him a hawk's eye and he'll be a replica to Mustang. The only difference… he makes Mustang look like a saint in terms of personality. Shows aptitude in the laws and understanding of the laws but does not understand how it fits in with the human side of it all. Warning: Unlike Mustang, he actually sees people as true chess pieces.

Kasey State: Where do I start? She grew up in an orphanage, said place made no stance that they even cared for her in her physical, mental, emotional and… there's no end on how much they fucked her up. She shows great critical thinking skills but shows little to no skills in non-magical subjects but is more than willing to over pile her work to get ahead. Talk to the house-elves to have food 'randomly' appear by her whenever she looks hungry and ensure it's easy on the stomach. If you suspect anything, inform her Head of House, she'll take care of it.

Elfrida Hopkirk: Very studious but always leaves everything for the last minute. It's that Ravenclaw side of her, having the brains and smarts gives them the excuse of doing things last minute with the assumption they fully understand the subject. She get's it but her heads is stuck in the clouds with that mindset. Needs to understand non-magical concepts and perhaps move her to Wednesday class. (If you are reading this Al, at least I know when to ask questions until I fully understand what the hell I'm doing before I slack off. She doesn't.)Kasey State: Grew up in an orphanage that sees her nothing more than a paycheck they are paid to supposedly to take care of her. Gave her a shitty education before coming here to this place. I swear, when I first saw her, she looked like she was starved. Have the house-elves set out extra meals for her. Needs a huge refresher in her studies but is very eager to learn. Warning: Don't visit the orphanage. Have Madam Sprout do it.

Alphonse couldn't help but smile softly at his brother's notes on his students, noticing the finer details in them. Details that need to be seen. Fred will be no problem, give him advanced work and have him help out the others. Timothy would help him, but needs to understand the human concepts of life. He'll have to break Elfrida out of that habit if hers. Kasey… Edward had once previously mentioned a student that grew up in an orphanage. Seeing said student in front of him, he could see how desperately she is trying to herself in her clothing, and failing desperately. After traveling for so long as he did and seeing the consequences of war, starvation is one of the many atrocities in humanity.

"Welcome to Alchemy, my name is Professor Elric, Mr. Elric your slated teacher is currently indisposed. Yes, we are related. No, we are not related in that way. He is my older brother. I am engaged. I am very happy with her." Alphonse couldn't help but show his utter disappointment how more than half the class visibly deflate. Seems like a lot of his fans are in class and now has to find a way to weed out the fans from the actual students.

-.-

Severus sat beside Edward's bed, a book in hand and a cup of black tea in the other. It was his turn to take care of Edward when Alphonse isn't around to make him stay in bed. Fortunately he was put into a magic induced sleep and it appears it is doing wonders for his healing process. Even so, here's hoping there won't be any long term effects. On the night table besides the bed is a package of stone cakes sent by Hagrid, one of the many forms of apologies from the half-giant.

There was no need to apologize, Edward in his medical induced haze that it wasn't anyone's fault. Animal's just have a tendency on harming him for the hell of it. This only caused Hagrid to burst into tears once more.

"What are we going to do with you…" Severus sighed, placing the now empty cup of tea on the night table and putting the book on the bed. He continued on talking as if Edward was actually listening and responding instead of being unconscious. "Not even a month in, and you already got yourself in this condition… don't give me that look. You have a tendency to get hurt, lost, maimed, insulting the wrong person, or a combination, which results with you in his sort of outcome… What did I say? Don't give me that look… Ugh… you are impossible."

-.-

"Should we accept this proposal?"

"If we do, it would allow us to put more heirs up front to become the next emperor or empress."

"He still has to pick…"

"Instead of possibly only have one choice from ever respective clan, there would be more. Everyone has an equal opportunity, from the smallest to the largest of clans."

"The only prerequisite he has is that they must attend the new school the Emperor is currently creating with the help of Amestris and Magical Great Britain."

"I like this proposal… providing an equal opportunity and dealing with that bothersome marriage law."

"Don't get me started… The Emperor's father keep taking our daughters, sisters, nieces and granddaughters without much of a care."

"Let's not forget… even the ones that were married or promised to someone were not off limits for him…"

"What if he does the same as his father?"

"Don't make me laugh. I've seen that Amestrian threaten him that if he ever does anything to offend that woman's honor, then he will be the one to beat him senseless."

"Can he do that?"

"From what I've heard, he could... He's not the only one who threatened Emperor Ling."

-.-

Mustang mentally grumbled to himself as he left Grumman's office, he was just kicked out of his leader's office while his Captain stayed behind. It was suspicious to say the least. Maybe there is something going on without his knowledge? There are constant whispers behind his and Hawkeye's back, all of them revolving around this upcoming law that will permanently change the military. Whatever it is… it has to be big…

-.-

"I had made a list of all possibly candidates for once the Anti-Fraternization laws are abolished, so that you know who I approve from greatest to least." Grumman handed his granddaughter a long list of possible candidates for supposed marriage.

Riza's hand were shaking at what her grandfather had just told her, the answers to all those whispers, innuendos, and so on. Her grandfather, the Fuhrer of Amestris, is removing one of the biggest laws the Military has for who knows how long. The only problem is that… why is he giving her a list of candidates for marriage?

"I am going to be officially announcing everyone you are my granddaughter, to avoid having issues of my own."

Riza gave the old man a deadpanned expression, she swore that Roy took a lot after Grumman than she cares to admit. "The list?"

"What? I am giving you my approval to anyone you choose from the list as a possible partner in the future and not worry about me. Plus, once word get's out who you are to me, there would be marriage proposals just for your connection to myself. I want to make sure you know who would be a good possible candidate for yourself."

"Why did you have General Mustang leave the room? Shouldn't he hear the news?"

"I'll leave that for you, I'll be making everything official at the end of the month."

"Thank you?"

-.-

"I'm the twelfth person on this list?!" Roy didn't bother to hide his look of utter disbelief and dismay at the list Riza just presented him with. "How in Truth's name did Havoc get to be number four while I'm twelve! And both Armstrong's are the first two on the list! ugh!"

Jean, for his own part, slowly hid underneath his desk to avoid his head officer's wrath.

"Sir… you're missing the point." Vato called out from his spot in the office, he was scanning through the paperwork that was required to officially abolished the anti-fraternization law.

"How are you above me by one!" Roy called out to Vato, pointing accusingly at him. "How are all of you above me!"

"You could see his pride being demolished bit by bit…" Heymans whispered out to his comrades with a chuckle but stopped with Riza glared at all of them.

"They should just make it official now…" Kain sighed.

"I'm just waiting until Hawkeye slap some sense into him." Jean whispered out from his spot from underneath his desk.

Roy snapped his fingers and ignited the list up in flames. He promptly ran his hands through his hair in frustration. So, this was what was being hidden from Riza and himself, Truth… he already had plans to get rid of that law down the line. This puts a wrench into his plans. His plans involve… it involves Riza helping him bring it down under Maes's name.

Who was their main supporter…

"…I wanted to romantically propose to you…"

"Sir, the law hasn't been abolished yet."

"Is that a yes or no?"

"You haven't asked me anything yet."

[yukiwrites]

Mixed Feelings

Thank you so much for commissioning me again, @breeachuu! I hope you like it! ;D

Summary: Through her countless years, Nidra watched marriages begin and end... Chrom and Robin’s ceremony struck her heart as deeply as one she had witnessed as a child, and now the manakete wonders if she’ll ever find a love for herself...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

The war against Plegia took precious people from Nidra. Their bonds had barely just begun forming and were abruptly cut.

And yet, all that time she spent with the Shepherds gave her back in equal measure. She felt truly at home amongst that ragtag group of humans and shapeshifters, as much as she felt only once during her long, long years.

The friends she had made back when she was young, the bond she watched grow and bear fruit... It so very much resembled the one Chrom and Robin shared.

This time, however, the manakete was older, wiser and had a more active role in the ceremony. She had been personally invited to attend as a friend of Ylisse and its new rulers, her heart a mix of emotions she never truly felt before.

Happiness. Grief. Melancholy.

Her human friends taught her how to deal with all the different kinds of emotions -- they were a very emotional kind, after all. And Nidra had much to learn, and a great amount of time to put it to practice.

She watched her precious friends confirm their love in front of the whole kingdom; the kiss they shared under flushed cheeks and uncertain hands... It would be etched into Nidra's heart for the eternity to come.

Her eyes burned with tears, the overflowing joy radiating around her from every side.

And yet, her heart also felt heavy.

She looked down to her chest, clutching it with one hand, blinking so as to shoo away the tears.

Nidra was used to that feeling: loneliness.

Fleeting as the human life span was, she knew that it would be only a matter of time until she said good-bye to her precious, precious friends. She wanted to treasure that moment fully, to give them her best regards with everything she had; but how could she, when the memories of thousands of years of solitude hanged over her shoulders?

Tears streamed down her face as she hugged the bride during the party, congratulating her friend from the bottom of her heart. "Truly treasure this moment, Robin. Live your life to its fullest and do not regret loving and being loved." She squeezed the hands of the now Queen, receiving a warm hug in response.

"Thank you so much, Nidra. For everything."

Nidra bit her lower lip, once again being washed over by loneliness. She needed some time to think, but it wouldn't be appropriate to leave during the ceremony, and frankly, telling Robin about it would do no good, either.

After the day was over and the happy couple retired to their quarters, Nidra transformed and left.

Flying always made wonders to clear her mind -- the sky was the only thing that remained the same no matter how many ages passed. It brought her comfort and much-needed companionship.

She simply closed her eyes and flew, enjoying the cold night’s breeze flow through her scales, followed by the blinding sunlight guiding her wings.

Nidra flew as high and as far as she could go, taking all the new sensations in.

Chrom and Robin. Frederick and Lissa. All of them shared different stories that intertwined into love; into the creation of new family bonds.

Nidra watched these stories unfold and couldn't be happier for her dear friends.

"Oh... I understand now." She spoke for the first time in three days, finally reaching an answer to her silent questions. "It is as I thought, and yet not... How complex the heart is!" She smiled bitterly, as much as she could in her dragon form, and took an U-turn back to Ylisse.

She had found her answer.

It took her another three days to fly back, her thoughts clear but her heart clouded. Robin welcomed her on the evening of the sixth day of her absence, holding both of her hands. "Nidra! Where have you been? I was about to mobilize the Shepherds to look for you outside Ylisse..."

From the balcony she had landed onto as she transformed back to her human form, Nidra rubbed her thumb over Robin's hand.

The manakete then looked up to the darkening sky, the first star shyly shining over the dark orange.

"It is a lonely one, this endless life of mine." She said with a bittersweet smile, leaning on the balcony. Robin followed, her eyebrows flickering with emotion. "It is alright, Robin, do not feel responsible for following your own path towards happiness."

Surprised but not fazed by her friend's perceptive skills, Robin looked down, pressing her lips into a thin line. "I... can lend you an ear, if you want to talk more about it. I can't say I even begin to understand how it is to be almost immortal, so..."

Nidra looked up at the sky, breathing in deeply. "Your marriage reminded me of another joyful occasion I have been part of, so many ages ago." She smiled softly, the rose-colored memory a fond one inside her heart. "The Prince and Princess had fought for opposing kingdoms despite having loved each other from childhood... And still managed to hold such memorable and loving ceremony. Theirs was a love as pure as the one you share with Chrom."

The mention of her husband made Robin smile and follow Nidra's gaze to the sky -- it was now of dark blue, splattered with the stars’ lights. "I'm... glad you see us that way. I just wish to build a happy and peaceful future with him from now on."

"So did they. Yours is a rightful path." Nidra replied, her smile slowly disappearing. "And yet, still alone I remain."

"Oh!" Robin gasped, not knowing how to react. "Um, I, uh..." She looked around, then remembered the question Miriel had asked Nidra so many months ago. "What are the manakete's mating-"

"Hah! Robin!" Nidra snorted, shooing the depressing mood away. "It was hard enough to shake Miriel away from me with these questions, et tu, now?"

The Queen laughed, "haha, sorry. But I'm half-serious, you see." She lifted her finger, as though she were a teacher giving out advice to her student. "I can help you find a good husband! I don't know many male manaketes, uh, I actually don't know any, but I know plenty of humans!"

Nidra never lost her smile. "So you want to play matchmaker?"

"Um, I'm sure we can find you some good-"

"I shall humour you, friend. What did you have in mind?" The manakete chuckled.

"Really?" The Queen beamed, quickly taking her friend's hand. "Let's go to my study so we can sit and talk this over!"

Nidra let herself be led, the warm feeling finally taking over her chest.

She didn't feel the creeping loneliness that had always made itself present whenever she was enjoying a joyful moment.

No matter how happy she had been, it would always linger at the back of her heart, ever reminding her of her ultimate fate.

And yet, it was nowhere to be found now.

Not for the prospect of finding a husband, no. But for simply enjoying a little girl's time with a close friend who wanted nothing more than what was best for her.

In truth, ROBIN was the one humoring Nidra.

"Okay, so, from the Shepherds? We got Frederick- no wait..." Robin started, sitting down by a table at her study, inviting Nidra to sit beside her.

The manakete complied. "Indeed. Surely he will ask Lissa in the upcoming weeks? I tire of waiting for them to move in accordance to their hearts."

"Hah, yeah. Maybe we can get the ball rolling? I keep telling him to just GO, but he won't listen."

"Surely we should." Nidra nodded solemnly.

"Okay, so Frederick is out... What about Gaius? He's not the most righteous one, but he'll at least care for you- oh, wait."

Once again did Nidra snort. "He married Tharja not too long after we returned from Plegia."

Robin face-palmed, remembering how Tharja asked her to be the best-lady if they ever had a proper ceremony. "Alright, then. Gregor? He's wise and, uh, closer to you in age than anyone here."

"..." Nidra waited for the clicking moment, the corners of her lips already curving up.

"Oh, wait." Robin sighed. "Panne."

"Indeed." Nidra snorted. "Surely she can build her race back with him."

"This isn't going well, is it?" The Queen sighed. "What about Libra? I'm sure he'd treasure you- oh."

Nidra bobbed her head to the sides. "Even if he hadn't married Maribelle, I do not think I'd feel comfortable with him. He offered me a prayer in more than one occasion, see."

"Pfft. Did he ask you to deliver it to Naga?" Robin tried not to laugh, leaning her back on the chair.

"Actually, yes."

"No way! Oh, gods, I was just joking!"

"He was quite serious, so I did send it to Her. She rarely replies, however, so he was simply content with my intention."

"I see. Well, Vaike is also out, despite being single. Sorry, Vaike." Robin snorted, then sighed. "This isn't going well at all! I'm going to have to check the rank-and-file soldiers now. I'm not stopping until we can find you a suitable husband-"

"Posh, Robin. It is fine." Nidra chuckled, holding her friend's hand so she couldn't get up and check the soldiers' documents. "Simply spending time with you and the others is enough for now. Forgive me for troubling you, but thank you for caring so much about me."

Robin's shoulders sagged. "Aw, it's no trouble at all! I'm sure I can find you a good man." I did matchmake a WYVERN, and that was a beast. Nidra at least has a human form! "But if you'd rather talk, I'll always lend you an ear."

"Thank you, dear friend. I did so enjoy our conversation just now, so why not continue it with another purpose in mind?"

Robin tilted her head to the side. "What purpose?"

"How do you think their children will look like? And yours as well, for that matter?" Nidra smirked, the smile growing as Robin's face reddened.

"I- childr- mine? N-Nidra!"

"Haha! It is part of life, friend! Come now, let me hear your thoughts on the matter..."

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Never say never - Chapter 11

Yeah, by now, you know the drill :D

WIP of my heart and so on :D

°11° ~Victoria~

Victoria had not even noticed that the time had flown; she had been so entranced by this strange tale that was so unlike the ones she had been allowed to read at home. There was an immature, sick longing in her gut whenever that strange, stern man came on screen; he reminded her much of the men she had grown up around and it repelled and attracted her in equal measures. Then again, Thornton was much more handsome than anyone she’d ever seen before.

Hiddleston sat, motionless, on his chair, watching her as much as he watched the movie.

His heart broke for her when she gasped and hid her face in her hands during the botched demand for Margaret’s hand, and he smiled along with her every time Thornton’s mother spoke.

“My mother would have loved a son like that, I think. Unfortunately, none were granted to her.” Victoria confessed to the screen, wiping her eyes angrily as new tears welled up against her will.

They had finished their cakes and their tea and now sat with their hands in their laps, watching an old movie.

The doorbell rang and she paused the movie to go down and see who it could be. The darkness outside took her by surprise; had that much time passed? Was it evening already?

“Are you crying? What has he done to you?” Liza pushed past her, but Victoria’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm.

“He’s been nothing but kind and helpful. It is the movie…it…startles me.” Victoria confessed, looking up when Hiddleston came down the stairs, a broad smile on his face.

“I’m sorry, I know I was not invited, I…” Jenna murmured in a hushed voice. Victoria understood though, she knew how desperately one could long to see a pretty face again. The huge box Angie was holding in her arms that had been left on her doorstep was a testament to that.

“So…how do you find Thornton?” Angie asked, putting the box in a much more reasonable corner of the hallway than Victoria had previously chosen for her books that were still lying partly under the treacherous hallstand.

“He’s…a sourpuss.” Victoria replied, walking to her kitchen to get the number of the pizza delivery.

“Richard was roughly your age then.” Liza prompted her. “Armitage? He looks better now.” Victoria replied with a shrug.

“He doesn’t. Get out!” Liza cried out, stumbling over the books as well as she followed Victoria into the kitchen.

“What would you know?” Victoria laughed, earning a wink and a nod from Hiddleston which made her prouder than it should have. His support buoyed her spirits, she found, and she gave him a warm smile.

“I have known the man for years.” Liza snapped, laughing at Victoria’s dumbfounded face.

They ordered pizza and no-one had the heart to tell Hiddleston to leave, so he retrieved his chair from upstairs and they got comfortable in the small parlour looking out on a neat, little garden while waiting.

“Let me see what you’ve got here.” Liza, brazen as always, started piling up the books and, opening the box, spreading the ordered movies on the table as well. Her jaw went slack upon discovering the scope of Victoria’s “research”.

“Hmmm, this reminds me,” she said, looking up from the piles, “Armitage lets you know that he’s starred in a few horror movies. He thinks you might take pleasure in that.”

“Naaaaa, he’d certainly die. The pretty ones always die.” Victoria replied, trying to snatch away her books and movies from the prying eyes of her friends…without much success. “Hence why he thought you’d like them.” Liza quipped.

“I’m not a monster, Liza! I have been deplorably rude to the man, but that does not mean that I’d enjoy seeing him die.” Victoria shook her head, still grabbing at her possessions only to have them whisked away by Jenna and Angie.

“You might want to stop with the movie you’re presently watching then, dear.” Hiddleston commented, an uncomfortable expression on his face. He and Liza exchanged a worried look over the table, glancing down on the DVDs spread out under their noses and then back at each other again.

“You’re right. The pretty ones always die…so do the evil ones.” Angie offered carefully, but Vic rolled her eyes.

They were putting words in her mouth, she thought, she had never called the man “evil”, had she? She had thought and called him “dangerous”, but she could not pass judgment over his soul, if he had one that was.

Victoria bit her lip, these thoughts: stupid, rash, inconsiderate words that might easily have spilled out of her mouth, were the very reason why everyone suspected that she secretly hatched some dark plot to assassinate Armitage.

“I’ve known evil men. He doesn’t directly strike me as being evil.” Victoria skirted the unspoken question. “But indirectly, he does?” Liza dug deeper within a moment.

If Victoria hadn���t known better, she would have believed that she was on the verge of being married to Armitage; only nobody had told her about it beforehand. Why did everyone care so much about what she thought about him?

“I…meant that he oftentimes…inhabits…erm…performs…you know.” Angie drew helpless shapes into the air. “He’s the bad guy, he plays the bad guy.” Liza interrupted harshly, observing Vic’s face.

“Makes sense. What a scowl.” Vic laughed, turning to retrieve the pizza when the doorbell rang, humming to herself.

Only, it was not the pizza. It was Martin Freeman, holding a stack of papers and asking for Liza.

“Liza? It’s Martin. Why is he at my door? How does he know where I live?” Vic called into the house, stepping out of the doorframe, and letting Martin enter. “Welcome to my humble abode.” She laughed, shaking her head.

“Ah, you come when the work is done!” Hiddleston cried out in mockery, but went to retrieve a chair for the newcomer, nonetheless. “Here’s the…what do you mean?” Martin gave up on the business-conversation he was about to have with Liza and turned to Hiddleston instead, who was more than happy to recount his whole afternoon with Vic in detail.

Victoria knew she should be mortified, but her mood had mellowed considerably after her shopping-spree, and it had been pleasant to sit in the failing light with Hiddleston and watch that mysterious movie everyone seemed to know.

“I also have a gift for you, so your withering anger will not fall on me.” Martin said with a humorous gleam in his eye. Making her promise not to attempt any kind of voodoo or other witchcraft on them, he presented her with two dolls. She took them with a confused look on her face, waving her hand at Jenna to turn on the little lamp in the corner of the room.

“Oh. My. GOD.” She exclaimed as she recognised the characters. These were not the kind of hard-plastic dolls she had thought of; in her mind, she had seen actual action-figures, but these were funny and adorable, like cartoonish bobble-heads.

“Look at them, Liza, Angie, Jenna, come look at them.” Victoria exclaimed, holding the dolls up with such obvious, child-like delight that the men couldn’t help but stare. There were obviously shards of a broken childhood embedded in her soul and she had grown around them, making her 70% scar tissue and wounds.

“I…I am glad you like them.” Martin said, carefully; he had expected mockery and outright rejection, he had been prepared to have his dolls thrown at his head in disdain, never would he have been able to predict the joy with which she cradled the effigy of men she seemingly despised.

“Are they collectibles? Am I to keep them in that box?” Victoria asked, insecurity making her voice tremble. “Not really, you can if you want to, someone might pay a pretty penny for them one day, but…they’re not like the Ming-vase or the Persian rug…You can take them out and play with them.” Liza answered, holding her hand up discreetly so none of the others would say anything careless that might hurt Vic deeply in her vulnerable, open state of mind.

The doorbell rang again, and Liza nodded to signal that she’d go accept the pizzas. “You go ahead.” She said to Vic who was ever so carefully taking her dolls out of the boxes, placing them on the table and providing a napkin for them to sit on comfortably.

“Thank you so much, I want to say that my anger is not withering…but you have my deepest affection right now.” Vic mumbled humbly and hugged Martin awkwardly. “You are an astonishing woman. If we had known that a Bilbo- and a Thorin-doll would make you so happy, we’d have started by that.” Martin chuckled, gazing at the two inanimate objects he had seen be showered with a tenderness, so earnest and deep, he had never seen her grant to any living creature.

“Stay and have pizza with us.” She invited Martin when Liza came back, carrying the steaming boxes.

~Richard~

He didn’t even want to pick up the phone when Martin’s name appeared. The last time he had done that, things had taken a terrible turn for him, and he was not eager to repeat the experience.

He should have known better than to think that his friend would give up that easily though, and, after a few solid minutes of unnerving vibration, Richard gave in and accepted the call.

“Hey. I found the way into Vic’s heart.” Martin declared without preamble, describing her reaction when he had handed her the dolls that were now resting on a chair reserved for them while Hiddleston was sitting on the carpet.

“Wait…you’re at her place? You’re having a party and I’m not invited? Wow, thanks.” Richard knew that he was petty and that his tone might betray that he was not entirely joking either. “I just swung by to deliver some documents, Liza gave me the address and because I made an appropriate gift, I was asked to stay.” Martin sounded weirdly proud of himself.

“What are you doing? Who are you talking to?” Vic’s voice resounded in the background, followed by a mumbled complaint about how she was not running a boarding house. “I just told Richard about how much you liked the dolls. Shouldn’t I have?” Martin’s voice was contrite, but also a bit challenging.

“Armitage? Oh, hello.” Victoria’s voice grew very quiet instantly and Richard hated the fact that the mere mention of his name made her joy flicker out like a candle in a draught.

“He feels left out.” Martin snitched. “I had no intention of having any of you here, it has just happened.” Victoria squeaked helplessly, but she could see how this must look.

“I didn’t know anything about this meeting until this afternoon. Jenna was not invited, Tom helped and stayed, you came here with a gift…” Victoria tried to justify herself. “I cannot ask Armitage to come here and watch his own movies with me, can I? Or have him play with my dolls?”

“Richard, how do you feel about shameless narcissism?” Martin asked him suddenly and Richard had to do a double take to even find the words to reply to such a ludicrous question: “Erm, I don’t know.”

“What is going on?” Another voice called from far away and he heard Vic yell back that Martin had ratted her out to him and that now, he was disgruntled at not having been invited to a completely unplanned and chaotic get-together.

“Well, your house, your rules.” The other voice replied, and Victoria uttered a low grunt of frustration.

“Please, tell Mister Armitage that he is as free to come startle me at my home as any of the people here now.” Victoria spoke haughtily to Martin before withdrawing again. “Really?” Martin called after her. “Really.” She replied from further away with a small peal of laughter.

Martin then proceeded to swear that this had not been planned and that he genuinely did not believe that Victoria had taken any precautions to consciously exclude Richard. “She really liked the doll by the way and there’s a whole stack of books and movies on the living room table. Many of them…with you in them.”

Richard had no idea why Martin was telling him all that, but he was feeling lonely, and it was somehow nice to be told anecdotes and funny stories about people they both knew. It turned out that Hiddleston had indeed stayed and helped get the mysterious drawing room into shape for the furniture Vic had ordered and received the same day.

Must have cost a pretty penny, Martin joked. He also described the slight chaos and the many colourful clothes lying around. “I haven’t seen the drawing room yet. Want me to go check?” He said in a mischievous tone.

Informing the others with a careless call into the direction of the living room, he made his way upstairs, and towards the room from which a blueish light was emanating.

“Mother of Christ.” He cursed and Richard was invested enough by now to almost beg his friend to describe what he saw.

Martin was more than happy to oblige, telling him that it was a lovely room with big windows that let in a lot of light during the day. Now, the room was plunged into darkness though and against the faded tapestry stood an antique bookshelf, ready to welcome all the books he had seen lying around downstairs.

He also described the dainty and distinctly feminine ottoman in the middle of the room and the treadmill in the corner that seemed so anachronous compared to the other pieces of furniture.

“Don’t.” Martin whipped around to find Vic standing in the door, nodding at the still on her screen. “Don’t what?” Richard asked, curiouser than ever now, as he heard that Victoria had followed Martin upstairs.

Maybe, she was afraid that he was secretly taking pictures of her underwear for Richard?

“She…She’s watching porn on her new telly.” Martin blurted out and Richard heard the shocked gasp from Victoria.

He was not exactly sure that this was the truth, Liza had said something about North & South, but would Martin call that “porn”? Yeah, he would, without batting an eye.

“Ah, Richard, Vic wants to talk to you.” Martin said while he was still deep in thought, damn it, would she always take him by surprise? “Hello Mister Armitage.” Her voice was heard now, shy and demure, maybe even a tad embarrassed.

He thought that this might well be the first time that she greeted him unprompted and his name in her mouth gave him a tiny jolt of pleasure. There was still that distance in her tone, but right now, it sounded a lot more like reverence than like rejection. “Hello? Sir?” Her tone faltered and he kicked himself into action. “Hello Miss Victoria.”

A tiny sigh was heard, followed by Martin’s cackle and the sound of something heavy thudding to the floor.

“I just wanted to say that we did not purposefully exclude you. I don’t want you to think that.” She sounded apologetic, he thought, and by the shifting of the background noise, he could tell that she was pacing around the room.

“It was a joke. I am not that self-absorbed that I really believe that everyone has to invite me everywhere.” He said quickly, embarrassed about being taken literally when he was just acting like a mopey brat.

She didn’t immediately reply to that, and his spirits sank, of course she wouldn’t really want to have him in her home, would she? She had never hidden the fact that she hadn’t taken to him particularly and it was his own problem if he let that hurt him.

[alittle-re-in-ven-tion]

Hey can you write either a poly fic w/ Jared Evan and Connor (Connor lives au) or a "Jared Makes Evan stop rambling about how he'll never date anyone bc he's unlovable or smth by kissing him" fic

{{I meant for this to be much shorter, but…oh well. I love the whole oh-shit-i-accidentally-kissed-you-because-you-wouldn’t-shut-up trope. Ignore grammar mistakes, who needs grammar anyway?}}

Jared didn’t intend to kiss him. (Rather, Jared didn’t intend to kiss Evan /Right Then/. He wanted to kiss him, more desperately than Jared would ever admit, but he wasn’t planning on doing it in that moment.) It was a few weeks after ‘The Incident’, as Jared had mentally started calling it, where Evan had in rapid succession wrecked many of his close relationships, told the Murphys’ the truth about being friends with Connor, and got unceremoniously dumped by Zoe. They were sitting in the TV room of Jared’s house, Evan curled up on the couch and Jared sitting on the floor in front of it, engrossed in one video game or another. Evan was still trying to patch things up with everyone but hadn’t talked to Zoe yet, because– “–she probably h-hates me, I l-lied to her, to her whole f-family about being friends with Connor and she’s p-p-probably wondering if anything was true, and i-it was I s-swear, I mean, n-not the basis for, US, obviously, b-b-but that’s like a big deal for a relationship r-right? I-if you d-don’t have trust a-and–” It had been like this for the past few days. Jared had only just started reconciling with Evan and when he got like this, Jared almost wished he hadn’t yet. Sure, Jared wanted to be a good friend and help Evan, but he couldn’t stand hearing about Zoe all the time, not again. Every word was a sharp little prick in his side that hurt and irked Jared in equal measure. “–and she’s probably realizing she’s r-right to dump me and she never actually l-loved, no n-never actually even l-liked me, cause I mean w-who would? I’m so unlikeable, n-nobody e-ever likes the b-broken things, they want the s-shiny and n-new–” Evan continued through snobs and sniffles, looking down at his arms. Jared couldn’t take it anymore. He paused the game and set down the controller, resigned to picking it back up (and losing) again later. “Hey, Evan, buddy, no,” Jared said, scooting up to sit on the couch next to Evan. “If it makes any difference, I think you’re one of the least-unlikeable people I know!” Jared said, in his joking but reassuring way, wrapping an arm around Evan. Evan made a small noise that was somewhere between a snort and a sniffle. “Yeah, right,” Evan replied, taking in a shaky breath through his tears, trying to keep his breathing normal. “Sure you are! You’ll go off to college or…somewhere, and you’ll meet a nice girl who is also obsessed with trees!!, and you’ll get together and have a bunch of tree-climbing babies that everyone is halfway convinced they’re part forest nymph or some shit. Hey! Maybe you’ll hook up with an ACTUAL forest nymph–” Jared reassured Evan, rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades. “Now you’re just teasing me again.” Evan said, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Who would want m-me, when theres people like Zoe, and Alana, a-and you. Zoe will probably end up with another musician and they’ll m-make great music together–” “Is that an innuendo? That’s definitely and innuendo.” Jared interjected. “–and Alana, she’ll be with so-some successful business person, the two of them will conquer the world when she decides she a-actually has the time to date, and you,” Evan pauses, looking up at Jared. “You’ll be with someone smart and funny who makes you laugh a lot and you’ll be really happy, and they’ll be really hot like that Israeli girl you told me about from summer camp–” Evan continued, but Jared wasn’t listening. That damn Israeli girl. She didn’t really exist, not at least the going-to-second-based-with-him version that Jared had told everyone to make it sound like he had a cooler summer than he actually did. Jared was pulled out of his thoughts with a jolt as he realized that Evan was still talking. “Oh my god, shut up,” Jared muttered under his breath, and before he realized it, he was leaning forward, and suddenly he was kissing Evan. He was kissing Evan Hansen, his best (family?) friend. Jared pulled back sharply, realizing what he had done and sucked in a quick breath. Evan was staring at him, wide-eyed, barely a few inches away from Jared and breathing quickly to make up for the sudden lack of air. “Shit. Well, um, i guess that worked?” Jared joked, voice shaking. He looked at Evan and realized there were tears pooling his eyes. “Shit, Evan, no, I didn’t mean, fuck, I’m sorry–” Then Evan grabbed the collar of his shirt, Jared bracing for the worst, and Evan pulled him close and Kissed him. Hard. Oh, Jared thought, and the thought echoed in the form of a sigh as he kissed back against Evan. “Well I guess that worked,” Evan repeated with a slight smirk after breaking away what must’ve been a few moments later. Jared laughed, and then Evan was kissing him again. He’d never admit it, but Jared could’ve sworn Evan’s lips tasted like sunshine.

[evilnerd3030]

Caffeine Challenge

Prompt from @caffeinewitchcraft for her Caffeine Challenge. I used "They say you never forget your roots, but I did." It’s a little late and I SERIOUSLY rushed this, so don’t expect too much from this. (More author notes on the bottom) (Also, I'm on mobile so please ignore any spelling mistakes and sorry I can’t put it under a cut for you guys).

It just slipped out from my fingers and shattered. A puff a blue smoke billowed out and the room was filled with screams and laughter. My cheeks burned and my eyes pricked, but I didn’t do much else.

“Corrine!” Professor Shorts shouts, nose flared.

The noise died down but for a few chuckles. I gulped, “Ye-“

“Oh, you clumsy witch! What happened?”

“Um, I-“

“Are you hurt?” She snapped. I shook my head, although the potion was starting to soak into my pants and sting a bit. If they were starting to smoke a bit themselves, no one cared.

Professor Shorts shook her head, eyeing the broken glassware distastefully, “Well, it was probably for the best anyway.” She leveled me with a steady look, the eyes of the entire class watching us now, “I would have given you a D if I had graded this potion, although that would be generous. You forgot the most important part of a beetroot potion, Miss Wintergreen.” She paused, probably to catch her breath, but it fell more like a malicious, dramatic pause. “When you re-do the potion for me to grade tomorrow, please try to remember the beetroots.“

A few people laughed and Professor Shorts glared at them until they fell silent. She may old, but red eyes were always scary no matter who they belonged to. Head bowed, I wished my hair wasn’t tied up so it would hide my face. Mortified, I listened to her instructions for cleaning up the potion as the rest of the class placed their finished potions - a clear red instead of my murky blue - on the lab bench in the back and filed out of the room, glancing at me and snickering.

Professor Shorts already had the cleaning supplies out and waiting for me. But she plopped some clean spare pants into my outstretched hands instead.

“Go change first, girl. Your pants are starting to disintegrate.”

Soon enough, I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the floor while Professor Shorts supervised. Normally, the students weren’t allowed to clean up spilled potions, but Professor Shorts was going on one hundred and sixty-five. As she put it, “My father may have been a vampire, but that only means I live long. It doesn’t mean I stay young.”

As I cleaned in near-silence - if I sniffled once or twice, Professor Shorts didn’t pay it any mind - she lectured, "Beetroot potion is mostly made up of unicorn tears and essence of nightshade, nasty stuff. The whole purpose of adding the beetroots is-“

Unthinkingly, I blurted out, “It’s to dilute and give those two ingredients something to bind to. Separate, unicorn tears will turn nearly anything into pure gold and essence of nightshade acts like an acid, destroying anything it touches.” Almost as soon as I realized I had interrupted her, without permission, I snapped my mouth shut, frozen on the floor. Something cold and burning raced along my stomach and spine and I thought I might either pass out or throw up. When Professor Shorts didn’t speak for a few moments, I nearly started shaking.

As it was, she merely raised an eyebrow, “Correct. If it were just those two mixed together, then the resulting potion would turn everything into a poisonous tar, as you can see.”

I glanced toward my former pants, which were slowing turning into a strange, goopy purple, safely in a hazardous bin. Tears welled up in my eyes again, a few dripping down my nose onto the floor. I scrubbed them away furiously, desperate to hide them from Professor Shorts.

Soon enough I was done. Professor Shorts glanced the floor briefly before studying me with a gaze far more peering than the one she gave the floor. Slightly panicked, I blurted out, “G-goodbye, Professor,” and nearly ran out of the room.

Potions was my last class for the day, so I took the quickest route home. Thankfully, it was a clear day out, so my hair was free to drape in front of my face. I only had eyes for the sidewalk, walking as fast as I could while being casual.

“Hey, look, it’s that clumsy witch from Potions!” A boy in my class yelled, laughing with a few others.

Already on edge from the terrifying one-on-one with Professor Shorts - and having no desire to let the boys poke fun at my new pants - I pulled out my rune book and recited the spell I had been working on. There was a screech of color and swirl of noise, then I was standing in my room, not a hair out of place. I winced, imagining the talking to I was going to get from Uncle Cy when he got another letter from the Board of Governing Magical Entities about my underage rune spells, but it was worth it to avoid those bullies.

Finally alone, the tears started to fall. What was wrong with me? Potions was my best subject, always has been, ever since I was little. I sank down onto my bed and eyed the picture on my bedside table. It was an older photo of my mom and I working on a simple potion, but it was my first time doing it alone. Those were better times, before she died and I still had skills and was actually good at potions. Then she did die and it was like all my talents, my skills, my happiness, they all died with her.

Everything now felt like tackling dragons. Even simple things, like talking to people or eating, felt overwhelming, towering over me until the only sensible thing to do was to just lie there and do nothing.

Logically, I knew I was depressed, but logic is nothing in the face of powerful emotions. Another tear slipped out just as there was a knock on the door.

“Cori?” Uncle Cy called softly as I scrubbed at my cheeks.

“Hey, Uncle Cy,” I went for casualness, but there was no way he didn’t notice how my voice caught.

He paused, “Can I come in?”

“Um, sure.”

The older man opened the door gently, quiet and sure with a half-smile on his lips and a full smile etched in his laugh lines. The half-smile died out when he saw me, hunched over on the bed with my head in my hands.

“Cori, what happened?” He sat down on the bed and made a motion like he wanted to rub my back or hug me. Instead, he patted my knee and withdrew.

I didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. Uncle Cy had always been more sharp than his big belly and small eyes let on. He sighed, “Cori, it’s just nerves. You haven’t been to school in a while, of course you’re gong to be a bit out of practice. It’s a skill, not instinct.”

I ground my teeth, “They’re my skills and there’s no excuse for me to keep messing up like this!” I tried my best not to take any of my anger or sadness out on Uncle Cy - he had really been there for me these past few months and didn’t deserve me snapping at him. But still, why didn’t anyone understand? If I didn’t have my skills at potion-making, then what’s left? A sad, broken little girl, that’s what.

He didn’t say anything for awhile, which was fine, I didn’t feel like talking anyway. He seems to sense my reluctance, because he just sighs and leaves it at that.

The rest of the night and even the next day is quiet, until it’s time to go back to Professor Shorts’ class.

The knot that had been building up in my gut all day reached a tipping point as I was just ten feet from the door. I couldn’t do it, I turned around to leave and nearly ran into Professor Shorts herself. The tall woman, not the least hunched with age, seemed like an immovable warden, trapping me in my prison cell. But her red eyes were gentle.

“Corrine, we need to talk. Come with me.” She turned and marched toward her office, with me struggling to keep up. God, how did this dinosaur move so fast?

It wasn’t that far, and I found myself in a smallish office, adorned with certificates, plaques, and photos in equal measure. The dull ivory of the walls was lost in everything she had hung up there. All of the certificates were on the wall opposite her desk, above the chair I was siting in, and all the photos of her family were behind her. The amount of personality in the office surprised me, considering the person in question had hardly ever laughed in the few years I had seen her around the school, and that was mostly rumor.

Professor Shorts was busy gathering papers behind her deck, so I looked at each picture in turn. Most of them were of Professor Shorts when she was young with her rather large family. There was one that stuck out to me. It was a young Professor Shorts, about seven years old, with twin braided tails, dirtied cheeks, and bright red eyes, but there was laughter ringing throughout her entire body. A tall, regal woman behind her radiated the same feeling, although with much more poise. The mother and daughter duo were holding a first place ribbon, with the young Professor Shorts clutching her mother’s hand eagerly. It was cute, if not a bit weird to see my normally stern teacher smiling so much.

A snap of paper brought my attention back on Professor Shorts, who glared down at the papers in her hand. For a brief moment, I wondered where that smiling girl in the photo went.

“Daughter to Seanna Wintergreen, who received the Sigar’s Award for her work with the Folinetrine flower, which has let to huge advancements in the medical community ” she begins, “Homeschooled, then an A-plus student, and the youngest ever winner of the Touguntenta City Exemplary Young Witches and Wizards Magical Fair. And yesterday, you dropped a potion that was worth a D, at best.” As my ears burned, Professor Shorts stared at me over the top of her glasses. Absentmindedly, I noticed they were the ones her mother was wearing in all the pictures on the wall behind her, with a white frame that seemed to emphasize her red vampire eyes. “What is going on?”

There was no excuse, nothing so say, so I shrugged. The older woman sighed, something people around me seemed to be doing lately.

“Corrine, I know losing your mother was hard and you’re still adjusting,” there was a sudden, unusual flare of rage in me at the term ‘adjusting’, “but it does no good to mope about it.” For a strong moment, I seriously considered standing up and leaving.

“Let me guess. You spend most of your time by your mother’s side, watching her preform her experiments at home,” I stared at Professor Shorts, eyes wide. “You learned as you grew, learning to love potions as much as she did. Whenever you two spent time together, it was either making potions or talking about potions or showing someone else about potions. Then she died and now all of those good memories are painful. Just thinking about them makes your head hurt and your heart feels like its ripping itself apart. Nothing makes sense, as it feels like it should. Then, eventually, you try making a simple potion. Maybe you remembered your mother doing the same thing, only she’s not there anymore. It hurts, so you stop trying to get it right anymore. You just stop trying, because it’s easier that way. It’s easier to wallow in the pain than to move forward, to relive old memories with someone else than to make new ones without them.”

There were tears in my eyes, but I was slightly awestruck. I spent so much time curled in on myself, thinking that whatever I was going through was too terrible to put into words. It was exhilarating to hear the emotions I was going through, to have it all laid out before me. I once again glanced to her glasses, to all those photos of her and her mother on the wall behind her, and remembered what she said yesterday. ‘My father may have been a vampire, but that only means I live long.’

Suddenly, Professor Shorts wasn’t an intimidating teacher, staring down her nose at me. She was someone who had done this before, who has felt the things I’ve felt, strongly enough to put it into words where I stuttered. She was like a guide, a light at the end of the tunnel. I thought back to the pictures, noticing where the photos with her mother stopped and remembered all the awards on the wall behind me.

The realization that it was possible to go forward - the proof is sitting in front of me, watching me with quiet, understanding eyes - was less like a thunderbolt and more like a rock had been taken out of the bag I was dragging. It was a step forward and that was enough.

Professor Shorts stood up sharply and came around the desk to place a warm hand on my shoulder. “Class starts in ten minutes, Miss Wintergreen. Take as much time as you need, but I expect a proper beetroot potion on my desk tomorrow. You may use the connecting door at the back of the classroom whenever you are ready to join us.” She may have smiled at me, but I could have imagined it and she swept out of the room, still as regal as ever.

I took a moment to stare at the photo of Professor Shorts and her mother, laughing with a first place ribbon, and the photo right next to it, with Professor Shorts in her graduation cloak, proudly holding her Grand Master’s certificate alone. I smiled, tucking a long strand of hair behind my ear, and made my way back home. Mom’s old lab equipment was still in the basement and I had everything I needed for a beetroot potion.

That’s it. This was fun. And as a side note, this is the first thing I’ve written in months. Depression really gets you, you know? Anyway, thanks for reading y'all.