#with leafy going through it and them fighting

[happi-dreams]

Good mornings ,,

Fireafy doodle for me to cope ,,, (also TPOT 15 spoilers in the tags so we woo we woo we woo !!!!!! )

[rose-maidenn]

Pick a card : Indications that you found your future spouse or they're around

Pile 1-2-3

Hey guys Hope you have been doing well , use your intuition to choose this , not everything will resonate , just take what does , hope you enjoy this one 🩷

If you do like this one and want more please check out my paid readings and masterlist

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ ི☘︎ ྀ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ ི☘︎ ྀ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ ི☘︎ ྀ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ ི☘︎ ྀ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ ི☘︎ ྀ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ

Pile 1 :

You will feel a strong connection to the jade stone . You will get more spam calls. There will be a new start in the financial sector , you will see that your finances are better or worse with an inclination towards the stock market . There will be unexpected gifts coming in from the person who is courting you , a cat maybe a car even , you might travel to the mountains . You will be very confident around them as if you can conquer the world . Might get into gym , weight lifting etc. Would fight an enemy . You will get violent downloads and premonitions , you might not even ask for them but they will come through. Will learn more about religion when they come in or when they're about to come in .

⠀⠀ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི

Pile 2 :

First of all your fs is older , someone who really takes care of you . Might start liking the colour pink even though you hated it for a while . Will see more snakes around especially one with copper or brown markings. You would get an earring , it will be dangling red with semi precious jewels . Might get into vintage dresses and sarees cause they like it idk it's like a new vibe to you . Some of you could be of the lgbtq community , you will go to a march together btw awwwww like a lot of community celebrations . Will find a shiny gold wand or a hair pin . You will be in the season of loss, mourning or detachment . This relationship will be well orchestrated by your elders or ancestors so for some of you there are chances of arranged marriage . You will recover with them , you're kind of hurt I trust you you will heal love .

⠀⠀ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི

Pile 3 :

Around that time you might experience a new adventure or sport . You might also have cold , have nasal blockage or eat very plain food . Might meet a lot of people with a star tattoo , you will apply lot of Alta when you will be meeting them . Might eat loads of carrots and leafy vegetables . The air around you is of fear and confusion, you seem tired as you have put your energy and effort into lot of useless people I get a message for you to channel the hurt you have been through. A nose piercing will be prominent btw. With the solar plexus and heart chakra card you will be into healing yourself heavy time . Might get into the principles of Buddhism , also check your ayurvedic body type , might be kapha .

⠀⠀ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི

Thanks for reading 🥰❤️

[asce-of-hearts]

May I request a yandere doflamingo with prompts 🦥🦘🐰 please

Caged

Contents: Yandere!Doflamingo with prompts: 🦥🦘🐰 (gn!reader)

more Doffy content here

TAG LIST

WARNINGS: YANDERE, IMPLIED KIDNAPPING, SUGGESTIVE, NOT PROOFREAD.

The vulnerability of being captured is what hurts the most.

Everyone is more or less trapped by something, or someone. Even his crew, his crew is trapped by him. You have heard about it, him battling with a young woman who demands to be let go, but ultimately it never happens, and she relents after moments of struggle. Will that be your same fate? Stuck in the same cycle of anger, hatred and defeat. Of begging, pleading and then taking, demanding, fighting tooth and nail a battle that you know you won't win.

The thought is morbid, and the leafy patterns of the walls in his room start to distort as you continue staring at them.

"Restless?" He asks, startling you, out of your train of thought now. You cling to the silk robe he has given you to cover your body, the remains of his touch in your skin visible under the dim light of the 70s style lamp. His grin is wide, his eyes hidden under polarized glasses. You don't answer immediately. "Or was the temptation of staring at the wall too hard to resist?"

He's mocking you, and you can't help but lower your head as he comes closer, pressing a tender kiss against the top of your head. It's strange, how you've learned to stop running anymore, to stop trying to hide from it, from him and his affections. Maybe this is a cycle of your own, of misery, of coercion, of regret.

"I was thinking," you answer in a murmur, and he lets out a pleased hum, a purr that reverberates across his chest, like a machine powered by sadistic electricity. "I didn't want to fall asleep before you came back."

"Ah, so you are that scared. Of what exactly... the darkness? Or someone else?" His tongue traces the shell of your ear, you cringe at the sensation, resisting the urge to coil away in disgust. "Don't act coy now and start running away, come on..." His hands, far larger than anyone else trace at the naked skin of your thighs, the bruises and bite marks left there, your breath hitches. "Don’t tell me these touches meant nothing. Don't tell me we're back in square one."

"No, we are not. I'm just... just tired." You lie through your teeh, earning a pleased growl from him. It's strange how much he reminds you of a wild animal, maybe it's his fashion choices, or how he moves like a big cat, feline, elegant, menacing.

"Tired and afraid? Deadly combination, now answer what I've asked you. Are you afraid of me, ___?" His voice doesn't care to hide the underlying threat, hanging in the air like a buzzing insect that tries to crawl inside your ear and eat at your brain. His hand moves from your thigh up to your chin, moving your jaw to force you to look at him.

"I'm... I'm afraid the usual amount one is afraid of you," You try and give a convincing answer. "The correct amount that one would be afraid of a venomous snake, or a weasel if one was a mouse, of a tiger, a lion. I'm afraid of you like that."

"Ah, well. Then there's nothing to worry about." He lets go of you, and manhandles you until your legs are tangled with his over the massive bed. You cock a brow, confused by his answer. "The comparisons, the analogy, what a smart thing you are, my ___. And you're right, you’re so right, darling. I am perverted, sick and sadistic." His laugh echoes around the room, and you feel yourself tense at the sound. This mansion, the bed sheets, the luxuries, it's a trap, like how a venomous flower attracts an insect with a sickly sweet aroma. It's a cage, golden and shiny, but a cage nonetheless, nothing other than a death trap, in which you'll perish sooner or later. Maybe in a few months, or in a few years.

"I... I guess you are," You whisper, not knowing what else to say when he laughs at you again. His hands come to catch yours, grabbing you by the wrist. He pulls them towards his chest, pressing your palm flat against the broad skin.

"I want to feel your hands on me, they’re so pretty~. Don't you want to touch me too, ___?" He purrs, and you can feel his growing length pressing against your legs.

"Yes, I think you do."

ghuuuuu

hope you enjoyed this

have a great day/night

TAGGING: @bookandyarndragon @massivepenguinunknown @eroscastle

@goldenglow149 @lurexin @hbk99450 @stranger00001 @kitzusune

@3v37773 @mizzhellsingsstuff @coolnekochan9961 @chercheryblossomsweet

@hannas16 @mimihaitani @bad4amficideas @flow33didontsmoke

Want to know when I release another fic? Join the TAG LIST

[evilminji]

A Moral Dilemma! Question!

Let's say there is a trucker. An average man. Kind enough, did okay in school, loves his wife and misses her like you wouldn't believe every time he has to go. Misses his little girl even more. HATES he's missing the early years of her life. First day to school, getting her up and brushing her hair into pigtails, making pancakes like his Pa used to make. The works.

But the economy is shit. Him and his wife have to work. Make ends meet. They're DESPERATE to get out of Gotham. Move somewhere boring. Safe.

But... well, places like that cost money. Kids cost money. And he did OKAY in school. Not a lot of jobs out there for "Okay" guys from Gotham.

His cousin finds him a route though. A solid job. Really pulled through when push came to shove and things were looking bad. Like he might have to take up that offer to Goon. Now he's a trucker.

And his route? Well the half way point is Amity Park. He stops to stay the night every time. Never really STAYS, has heard they got themselves a Cape and such, but? It is what it is. He's from Gotham. He minds his business. Parks on the outskirts of town to avoid getting hit.

Doesn't realize, he's getting SOAKED in Ectoplasm every time he's in town.

And this trucker? Not the healthiest man. He wishes he could be. But life on the road is not exactly conducive to fresh fruit and leafy greens. He eats more grease and sugar then his doctor would EVER recommend. In fact, has specifically warned him not too.

But some days you just need a warm meal. You miss your kid, your wife, your bed. And you know it'll be days before you can see any of them. But at least there is pancakes.

You can pretend you're eating with your family. Or at least, let the coffee be warm enough for the two of you. God, but the poor man is tired.

And as he gets close to Gotham?

Breaking News!

The Joker. AGAIN. The trucker cringes, horror filling him. What poor soul has that mad man hurt NOW? When will it end? Him and his wife are so close to getting the hell out. Thinking Kansas. His wife has been joking about pie baking competit-

No.

Oh God No.

There, on the screen, tears streaming down her beautiful face? Is the love of his life. His best friend. His EVERYTHING. And in her arms, trying so, so hard to be quiet. To muffle her terror born sobs... is his little girl. One pigtail torn from its srunchie, blood on her tiny face.

The trucker knows how this story ends.

Batman will try. He ALWAYS tries. And sometimes... sometimes that's enough. But he knows the odds here. His family are in front. Stars of this sick show. The trucker can't breathe. His heart is pounding, too hard for a man of his health.

He's not young. Should be on blood pressure meds he simply cant afford. Is panicked by a terror few should ever suffer. And? What runs in his family, strikes true. It feels so far away, the pain in his chest. He... No, he can't.

He can't.

His family.

He can't die. Leave them. They're in danger! They can't die like this. So close to freedom. Happiness. They... the..y.. ca..n..t...

.

.

THEY WON'T. HE REFUSES.

~~~

So! Here in comes the QUESTION! As you sit, watching this terrified child call for her father, ripped from her begging mothers arms, you see a green opaque man full body tackle the Joker.

You watch his eyes visible glow and change color, fight a visible STRUGGLE, like jeckle and Hyde, for control of his body. Between the monster known as Joker and what seems to be? The little girl's newly Meta father.

The Father wins.

You watch the Bat arrive with the police. Thank the man and say he can release Joker into custody. See the EXACT moment the Meta realizes something. Turns to look at his daughter, then his wife. Looks back at the commissioner.

Says "No".

Is he right to do this? To Possess the Joker, as a life sentence, to insure the safety of others? He is perfectly will to sit that life in a jail cell. Knows he will never be allowed to roam free again. But! The Joker is contained.

Is this Right? Or merely emotionally satisfying?

Discuss :3

@hypewinter @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @nerdpoe

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

RK!Jaune: Alyx? ALYX! SLOW DOWN!

Alyx: *Disappearing into the forest* We're Almost out- If you would just speed- *Cough* S-speed ...

RK!Jaune: ALyx!

Alyx: (Possessed) OH Jaune! It's been a long time! How's the girlfriend?

RK!Jaune: You get out of her!

Possessed!Alyx: Or what? You'll Beat Me out of-

RK!Jaune: *Hucks a flaming pile of Tree leaves*

Possessed!Alyx: *Hack, Cough, Splutter*

Alyx: *gasp Gasp, sniffle*

RK!Jaune: *Looking her over for injuries*Alyx! Are you alright?

Alyx: ...

RK!Jaune: *sigh* a decade of Hunting for this?

Alyx: ... Why? Everday I spend here is one nightmare after the next! I KNEW It would end up like this!

Alyx: ... This place just wants us to suffer ...

RK!Jaune: I don't think it's like- I don't know-

RK!Jaune: ...

RK!Jaune: Let's forget about that. Nothing's chasing us right now, so let's just sit and catch our breath.

Alyx: *PUlling her knees into her chest, glancing at Jaune*

Alyx: *She begin sobbing quietly*

RK!Jaune: ... It's my fault we wound up in this acre, isn't it? I'm really sorry for that.

Alyx: ... Why have you been acting so different lately?

RK!Jaune: ... I have, haven't I? I'm normally not too good with memories. But the scent of leaves ... the cover of darkness and stars ... It brings me back to a certain time.

RK!Jaune: ... So many nights with the love of my life, training on that roof with the moon and stars hanging over head, the smell of her perfume, nothing too sweet or floral, not overly strong while keeping it's scent over the sweat ...

RK!Jaune: ... The night she died she kissed me for the first, and last time. It was warm. Soft. Under the night sky, the scent of that leafy perfume ... Then she was gone ... I'm always brought back there in place like this, at times like this ...

Alyx: You had a Girlfriend? Like here in the Ever After?

RK!Jaune: *Chuckles* Sure. She was Funny, and Sweet, and kind - she was really good at fighting! If she was around she could still ... I think she'd still be able to beat me. I was less than a novice when we first met, but she got me the basics, and that let me survive.

RK!Jaune: I know that last one ... Isn't the most cheerful memory, but it's one I at least have control over.

RK!Jaune: I know how it can feel on this Island. Sometimes it all just feels ... Pointless.

Alyx: ... yeah ...

RK!Jaune: But it's not.

Alyx: ?

RK!Jaune: Not if you have people that Care about, people that are waiting for you. *Undoing his ponytail, staring at the tiny, ragged red cloth* Hang onto them, Cherish them. You'll never know when they'll be gone. In this world the worst thing you can do is ... make someone think they're not wanted or loved.

Alyx: ... *Wiping her tears* I'm glad you're here with me.

RK!Jaune: *Smiling softly*

RK!Jaune: You know ... A long, long time ... ago? uh, A friend got ... Possessed. I was able to use my semblance to help her fight it. I think ... I think maybe I can get us out.

Alyx: I- I'm scared. I don't want to go back in there.

RK!Jaune: How about ... We try thinking about the people we want to see when we leave, and not the things that want to see us when we enter? Is that okay?

Alyx: If ... If we leave, and head deeper into the Ever After, you're just gonna go back to being Crazy! You're not gonna remember any of this, are you?

RK!Jaune: Don't worry about me, as long as you remember, things will be okay.

RK!Jaune: you're very strong, and smart, and brave Alyx, and I know you'll be able to get through this. *he reaches out a hand* Just hold onto me.

RK!Jaune: We'll get through it together!

Alyx: ... *Stands up, taking Jaune's glowing hand*

RK!Jaune: *helps her get up as they walk into the gnarled trees*

The two walked through a gnarled, haunted forest in the ever after, but Alyx couldn't take her eyes off of Jaune, glowing like a star in the void of an endless night. She'd never felt safer than right here, with him.

[phoenixyfriend]

All the World's a Stage, Especially This Castle: Ch8

That's a wrap!

Chapter 8: Winding Down

If you want to start from the beginning, here's Chapter 1.

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

Anakin often wakes in the middle of the night. Sometimes, it’s because he’s cold, but they’ve given him plenty of blankets, and sometimes if he’s really having a bad time, he can go to Obi-Wan’s door.

Mostly, though, it’s the sounds.

Anakin is used to the sounds from the highway. Their apartment was one half of a duplex owned by Watto, and it was only a block or so from the two-lane route towards Phoenix. The cruising rumble of too-big vanity trucks on pitted asphalt was familiar, and soothing in its own way. Crickets, the occasional coyote, some birds, and wind through the sparse, hard bushes. The walls weren’t very thick, and the windows were open as often as not for the draft to keep them cool, sills creaking and frame grunting as, a few doors away, the sink was leaking again. Drunks would laugh and fight at the bar a few doors down, and sometimes the police got called. The baby next door would wake up every now and again, but was faint enough that Anakin only heard her if he was still awake himself. If his mom came home late, as she often did, he would hear the wooden floors creaking under linoleum tile, the rush of the sink and the thump of a bag on the floor, the squeak of mattress springs as she herself settled down.

The only thing he can still hear is the wind, and it sounds very different on leafy trees and stone walls than it does on tumbleweeds and vinyl siding. There’s the occasional bird, sure, but certainly not the same ones as back home. No coyotes, and he’s heard maybe one car a week at night, and that’s usually on gravel and out the back of the building, too far to hear through everything else.

It’s quiet. If someone walks past, it’s on carpeted stone floors, not peeling linoleum on wood that can’t help but creak. If a fox screams, the sound is eaten up by the tree leaves before it reaches him up on the third story, muffled and weak to his ear.

Sometimes, in a storm, though, it’s loud. It’s not the loud of late-night bar patrons getting rowdy, or police sirens, or even a coyote that’s too hungry to avoid the town anymore and the warning shot a man with a sawn-off uses to make it leave.

The shutters bang, and the rain hits the windows like pellets of feed at the bottom of a bucket. Like someone’s throwing little rubber marbles at the glass, thunk thunk thunk. Things don’t rattle, not like at home, but at least at home the monsoon season is shorter. Drier. The storms are just dust sometimes, not even rain, and that’s… honestly much more dangerous.

At home, the rain usually comes in the summer, if it ever comes at all. He doesn’t have school the next morning.

Here, it feels like the rain comes as many nights as it doesn’t, and it is relentless. Everything is silent but the storm. There is no highway traffic, no intoxicated belligerents, no crashing trucks.

It’s not broken up by lightning, either, but that comfort is as cold as his bed.

Anakin gets up.

He has slippers, here, because the floors are freezing, even on carpet, and he’d prefer to keep his toes comfy in not just socks, but slippers with sheep wool on the inside.

(The wool protects him from the cold. The socks protect him from the wool.)

(It’s so itchy.)

(He did get to pet some sheep, though. He hadn’t known Scotland had so many! They have more sheep than people!)

(Like how Wyoming would be screwed if the cows revolted because there’s twice as many cows as people, but less, because sheep are smaller and it’s still fewer. It’s more than people, but not twice as m…twice as more isn’t a thing. Twice as much. It’s not twice as much.)

Anakin decides that he needs to drink something. He starts padding towards the kitchen, or at least the one he can access. There are real, industrial kitchens here, but he’s not allowed in those.

He wants a cup of hot chocolate, but he doesn’t know if they have any mix, and he sure doesn’t know how to make it from scratch. He gets a cup of water, which still tastes funny, and then decides that since he is allowed to use the kettle—at least, the electric one—he should try to make some tea. He doesn’t like tea much, but it’ll eat up some time and warm him up.

(Continue on AO3)

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Hi, hello, are you taking writing requests? 🥺 do you think you could write something with Haru? I don't really have anything in mind, so it can be whatever you feel like, fluff, yandere or smut (as long as it doesnt have a sad ending lol) (｡>﹏<｡) I'm desperate for some Haru stuff and I love your writing so much!!!

Be careful with snakes!

Haru had the nicest dream/hallucination after being bitten by a snake.

Wc: 1,9k

Notes: I wanted to follow the future family idea we had going on but it didn't end up being as much of a future as it was his inner wishes. But it's cute! Haru just wants a calm and domestic life here.

This took longer than I expected... ndjdj

Chillingly cold winds awaken Haru roughly, seeping through the white cotton button down and hitting his pale skin causing goosebumps. Opening his eyes just enough to see sunlight above him almost completely obscured by the leafy treetops, he comes with the most likely possibility.

“Did I pass out again?” Haru scratches the nape of his neck, he was using his stigma pretty frequently lately and he might have skipped dinner and breakfast before using it today but it was unlikely that he passed out just because he was low on glucose, he has used it in worse condition and came out pretty alive!

Even then, he guesses it's better to cut possible losses short, drag himself to the dorm and do some damage control with the anomalies because it's very unlikely that Towa or Ren suddenly got the calling to help around for once.

Looking around, what does feel unsettling even if just a second is how different the forest area looks compared to the last time he scouted the area. The terrain uncharacteristically steep compared to the usually plain jabberwock and the weirdly vast amount of fir and spruce when most of the trees were oak or anomalous species. 

Regardless, he brushes off whatever worry he could conceive. It isn't abnormal for Jabberwock to experiment sudden changes to account for new anomalies entering and leaving it, that could easily explain the trees and plants and the geography, while harder to change, it's still possible.

What was more concerning was his overall disorientation, if he could get to his dorm that would be great, did he walk towards or against the sun? He doesn't even remember how he managed to get himself here.

While looking down at the dry and rocky dirt trying to find footsteps a familiar voice presents itself as a better clue.

“Hey, stop it, be nice” the familiar childish reproach that you would tell to the miniature rams when they fought for territory, even when he explained they were totally grown and it was normal for them to fight, reaches his ears and he lets out a sigh in relief, he could at least trust in you to take care of some anomalies even if just for a little while.

As much as he loves his housemates he can't lie and say they are good at anomalously animals husbandry, Towa is quite a ditz and forgets feeding times and what each anomaly can eat -and tends to electrocute them but he doesn't know that- and Ren refuses to work around aquatic areas and if forced to he will audibly whine while doing it.

Still, knowing that you didn't have any real powers to protect yourself if any of the anomalies got rowdy, he decides to slide down the face of the mountain to where your voice is, maybe you will be able to guide him back to the dorm or explain to him what was happening. Sadly, he has to slide normally down the vertiginous terrain without using bahnti, it wouldn't be helpful to black out again and the heaviness settled in his head didn't give him a positive outlook. 

Angling down his foot just right and working along gravity, Haru starts surfing down a wave of dirt and rocks while dodging the branches and stumps on the way down the slope and soon enough reaches the foot of the mountain with slightly dirty clothes.

At the foot there is a small area blending the sharp and angular mountain range and a somewhat plain surface spotting a cozy cabin. Around it there was a grown up Peekaboo and a log thrown in the dirt, where you were seated holding a white fluff. 

That was Peekaboo! How did he not notice he wasn't in his baby carrier?! His hand lingers on his abdomen but he doesn't feel the fabric of the carrier, it must have fallen off and you found his little one.

“Natsu, you can't hurry how fast Pukaboo eats, he will get a tummy ache otherwise” you tell calmly but firmly to someone behind you. As Haru walks closer he sees a redheaded kid no older than 4 hanging from the same arm holding the bottle.

After walking a few meters away from the thickest part of the forest he seems to have caught your attention finally, if the way your head snapped up is anything to go by. With a smile on your lips you usher the kid away.

“There is your papa, why don't you help him feed peekaboo” and in 2  seconds a kid smashes face first against his abdomen and pulls him towards the big white fluff. As it unrolls from the furry sphere, it seems to perk up when it sees him, nudging its head against his leg. As he went to pet it the child pulled his hand back.

“Don’t pet him, papa, Peekaboo ate my chia pet! I hate him now” at the harsh words the creature whimpers, offended. His Peekaboo does make a habit of eating wild plants whenever Haru isn't monitoring his playtime but this is obviously a grown up of the same species, not a little baby.

“Peekaboo? But this little dude is huge! Peekaboo is small enough to carry” he laughs while scratching his neck. 

“Hm? Silly papa, Pukaboo is the tiny one, Peekaboo always was biggg” and almost to make a point the child extends his arms wide on the last word. The grown Peekaboo, supposedly his Peekaboo, keeps looking at him expectantly and tilts his fluffy head in just the same angle his baby would when begging for treats or scratches.

“Natsu, how do you intend to feed peekaboo without food? Go inside and get your dad the lettuce, it's in the kitchen sink” now finished feeding what Haru thought was his peekaboo you started walking towards them with the cub in your arms. 

Natsu slides away, a smile splitting his face in two, such a helpful kid, Haru can't help but think that he almost wishes Ren was as eager to help as him.

Watching as the cub is put down next to its father  and how quickly it hurries under his fur to hide from the cold and, without thinking about it, Haru laughs loudly. Even if anomalies weren't pets he himself admitted they were particularly cute when the temperature starts to drop. And they start being less aggressive and bite-y.

“Just like Natsu when he was a baby, don't you think? He would usually fight with Pukaboo to see who snuggled under your arm” in a friendly gesture your elbow him but soon your playful tone turns sober, and your eyes darken with worry “did something happen? You left before breakfast without even leaving a note” 

He stays uncharacteristically quiet, what could he even say? He doesn't even remember why he was out and about in the first place but you seem to have taken his silence as bad news.

“Did the new specimen not adapt well to here?”

“Ah, it's not that!”

With a sigh of relief you giggle “Did the director try to get you to act like a forest ranger for the normal part of the park? He never learns, huh?” linking your arms you start dragging him to the cabin, speaking lightheartedly about what he would like to eat, how you fed the anomalies or how fast Pukaboo and Natsu are growing.

Allowing himself to be dragged inside, into the welcoming warmth emanating from the fireplace and his family, the heavy knots tied inside his muscles relax feeling belonging in the little cozy home.

Hanging by the small foyer, you urge him to take off his muddied mountain boots to not drag dirt inside and he compiles without a word, sliding with his white socks on the hardwood floors.

“Daaaaad, can you help me open this?” the little redhead approaches him jumping with a little tin can on his hands but you snatch it.

“You can't eat sweets before lunch”

“But dad always eats gummies before leaving” 

“Those are collagen gummies for his joints, not sweet ones” The kid pouts and runs off to his room, in response you only roll your eyes and return the treat to the kitchen cabinets “you need to eat something. There is toast, some cereal…”

“Cereal is good” it isn't often that he gets hounded to take care of himself, Elias would sometimes tell him off for overexerting himself or peel him apples whenever he inevitably ended up in the infirmary, but the fuzzy tingling in his chest at being taken cared of by someone else tickles a part of his brain so nicely. 

Allowing himself to be swayed by the arm pulling him into your arms and down to the sofa, he feels coddled like a sick little child.

A hand rakes his hair while both of you look at the empty wall in front of the sofa until a tiny bit squeaky voice whines.

“Hey! Don't cuddle without me!” your kid's voice whines as he throws himself at his dad's stomach, attempting to burrow between his parents and almost making the bowl slip from Haru's hands.

“Be careful! You are going to make a mess with the milk!” Even as you chastise him you still throw an end of the blanket over his head, encouraging him to burrow further and you yourself lay your head on Haru's, making a sort of cocoon with hugs and blankets.

Your warm breath as you laugh fans against his skin causing goosebumps but he leans against you, cheek resting against your collarbone and his ear just snug enough against your skin to catch the heartbeat lying under it. 

“Haru?” You ask him and he lets out an acknowledging hum but you don't relent “Haru? Haru, Haru?”

With each repetition of his name it almost feels like you are getting further and further away from him. It isn't like he would be able to check, his eyelids suddenly weighted down like concrete. Being unable to open his eyes makes Haru notice how the rest of his body is also too heavy to move even one inch.

A heavy hand grasps his forearm, turning it around to show the inner side and pricks the skin to inject something making him progressively harder to hang onto his consciousness. A string of tiny whispers reaches his ears.

“He still doesn't wake up” 

“If you account for his less than optimal sleep schedule and the hyperpyrexia from the venom it isn't weird he is still out. Why don't you return to class?” 

“Are you sure? I would like to see him wake up before leaving though” 

“Luckily you brought him soon enough but he still needs to rest” 

 The sun is settling down the horizon when Haru wakes up for good, no more fog clouding his mind and his muscles working as he intends. He is able to sit up before a mortkraken student notices he is awake. 

“Oh, good, you are finally up”

“Did something happen?”

“seems like one of the snake like anomalies bit you” her eyes screen a piece of paper Haru guesses is his medical record. He does remember having to feed the tsuchinoko hatchlings, it is likely that one of them grew its fangs and bit his ankle without him noticing.

“Even if you are a ghoul you should take care of yourself, you know”

Without paying her much mind he says but gets brushed off “I had such a weird dream”

“The venom or the fever might have made you hallucinate, was it at least a nice dream?”

"very nice"  

[ghosty-fics]

Kinger- Not so Crazy Old Man, pt 2

M4A/Gender Neutral/Second Person POV

CW: Involuntary regression, description of a panic attack

Use of Y/N

Word Count: 1,128

First Part

_________________________________________

Today’s adventure felt like it was personally designed for you to abstract. Everything seemed to be going wrong in the most fantastic of ways. First, you were separated from the group completely as you all wandered through a maze. You went through the tall hedges being bombarded over and over by terrifying things from your time before you joined this digital hellscape. You hadn’t even reached the end by the time the others all completed the task. You were stuck, curled in a ball as your mind raced trying to escape the horrors. You had tried running but were met with barrier after barrier. You tried to fight but the system was stronger, so now your brain did the only thing it knew to do even though it was the worst thing possible at the time. Regress. So there in this maze, you sat back against the leafy walls, crying and trying to ignore all the maze was throwing at you. 

________________

All the others stood around at the end of the maze, confused on why you hadn’t made it. You were normally fairly good at Caine’s games. Ragatha suggested that they go back into the maze and try to find you. Jax and Pomni weren’t so keen on that idea, both for separate reasons. 

“They’ll be fiiine,” Jax assures, rolling his eyes as he lays back on the ground, “Let’s just take this opportunity to rest!”

“I dunno, Ragatha. I don’t really want to go back there with what I saw. I’m sure they’re okay. Let’s just wait for a moment.” Pomni says, looking at the maze as she rings her hands in a nervous fashion. 

Without warning, Kinger began moving to the exit that is supposed to be yours. Everyone looks at him confused. 

“Kinger! What are you doing?” Ragatha calls to him as he disappears into the maze. 

True be told, Kinger only walked into the maze because he thought he saw a cool bug inside the maze, but once he was in it, his mind cleared a bit to the dimness. Kinger walked through the maze, looking around and calling out to see if anyone was there. That was until he heard little sobs coming from his left. He turned the corner to see you. His eyes widen a bit as he makes his way to you, gloved hands carefully coming to rest on your shoulder. 

This made you panic and scream at Kinger, not realizing it was him. You kick and hit him, trying to get him away, tears flowing from your eyes.

He flinches slightly, “Wow, hey hey it’s me!” He awkwardly laughs.

You look at him, tears streaming down your eyes. Head pounding and a slight static sound filling your head and ears.  “O-oh..it you..”

“You look terrified, Y/N.” Kinger says, settling down to sit with you. 

You nod, a small whimper escaping your lips as you look down the leafy halls towards the darkness that seemed to pull back at the presence of Kinger, who was studying your body movements silently. Everything felt so scary, so big compared to you. Your body shakes even with the new comforting presence next to you. Your hands grip your hair tight, pulling slightly to try and ground yourself.

Kinger’s eyes soften with understanding as if he has figured something out, pulling your hands from your head, holding them as he speaks,  “You’re a little?” 

You nod, looking at him confused cause you thought you had told him before. You shake it off and lean on him. He wraps his hands around you, pulling you close. He hums softly, letting you hide yourself from the scary maze in his chest. He pets your head gently, rocking slightly, hoping this would help even if it was just a little bit. You two sit there for what seems like hours, him just holding you close until he feels your breath even out a bit and your tears subside.

“Are you okay to walk, little one?” Kinger says, “Or do I need to carry you?”

You whimper and cling to him closer, signalling your choice, which makes him laugh a bit. He picks you up and holds you close. He looks at the darkness and sighs. He holds his breath, so that he glows slightly. You gasp and let out a small giggle at the glowing Kinger, feeling much better that the darkness can’t get you. 

Kinger walks you out the maze, taking shallow breaths to keep his light on even if it's dim to help you from spirling again. Before you hit the light at the end of the tunnel, Kinger sets you down. He looks a bit conflicted about leaving the darkness of the maze, but sighs before leaning down to you. 

“Okay little one. You can..hold my hand as we leave. When we get back to the circus, I’ll take care of you more in your room or the fort okay? Just..remind me when we go.” He says softly, eyes betraying him by showing his conflict. 

You nod, not fully understanding the gravity of his words at that point. You were just happy that this was over and you were going “home”. He holds your hand as you both walk out. 

“Oh thank god! There you two are!” Ragatha says, pulling you into a hug. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” She says looking over your body, hands on your head. 

“I..I fine, Ragatha!” You giggle softly. “Kinger saved me!”

“Kinger..saved you?” She says confused.

As you nod, you both look up at the chess piece who has now wandered off, messing with Gangle, clearly back to his normal aloof self. 

You feel a bit of a sting at him leaving your side. You move back over to him, holding onto his cape. 

“Well whatever happened, can we go home?!” Jax groans, annoyed. “I’m bored!” 

That’s when the portal opens to get back to the circus. All of you file in, Caine happily waiting for you all. 

“Welcome back everyone! Good job on the maze!” Caine laughs, twirling in the air. 

Everyone lets out a mixture of groans or sighs at his too excited demeanor, but you don’t care nor pay attention to the flying set of teeth in a suit. You wanted your daddy back. You grab Kinger’s hand and lead him back to your room without a word. 

“W-woooah.” Kinger says, eyes shifting their position in an amusing manner, “ Where are we heading?” He whispers, eyes shifting back and forth as if we are keeping a funny secret. 

“Um well night..you two..” Pomni calls behind you. 

You hear Jax say something snarky, but that all fades behind you as you pull Kinger into your room for some much needed little time. 

[tenderwatches]

summary: jayce is a lush!!! it's a party!!

Viktor’s right knee had started protesting long ago from an extensive time standing on the polished marble floors, and he’s counting the minutes until it becomes acceptable for him to make his excuses and leave. Two hours. Jayce promised they would only endure two hours of this, but of course the time had dragged on painfully. That this grand ballroom has barely a place to sit aside from the formal dining tables and a few scant benches doesn’t help in the least.

He’s never made a habit of going to these lofty events for this precise reason, amongst others, but he’s landed himself in the great misfortune of having to stall one of the most powerful merchant clans’ pet projects. At least the columns (non-load-bearing, he notes) offer something to lean against, though doing so marks him as potentially weak in a pool full of predators.

“Viktor, it’s… wonderful to see you back.”

Boswell Holloran’s saccharine greeting has Viktor clenching his jaw, a muscle twitching near his temple. There are few things Viktor finds more distasteful than blatantly lying through one’s teeth. He does his best to tame his disgust into a thin-lipped smile, fingers cold as they grip the handle of his crutch. “How kind of you to say.”

Holloran waddles closer and leans in as if sharing a tantalising secret. “Though I confess, it’s surprising to see you here. Thought they’d keep you more… contained to the lab.”

The implication lands with less impact than Holloran intends—it isn’t as though allowing Viktor to stay in the lab hasn’t always been their plan. Jayce is their public face, their silken words, their fingers rolling golden hexes across his knuckles. He’s the smile that has captured a thousand hearts, the confidence that has opened an equal number of wallets.

“The Council expressed a desire for both of us to be here tonight.” Unfortunately, their lack of progress on the synthetic hex crystals over the past few months has earned them enough ire that the council members mandated they both appear in order to make amends. Jayce is currently engaged in one such unpleasant effort with Councillor Salo, and this is Viktor making himself available to share technical details with anyone who feigns interest. “I’m happy to oblige.” He doesn’t bother trying to sound happy.

A guffaw bursts from Holloran as he straightens up, grinning as if one of them has told a horribly funny joke. “Just as well they keep you away from any testing!”

Viktor blinks and disguises his curse as a cough. He’s had his suspicions that the nature of the ethics complaint and its delayed reversal have made their way around Piltover’s circles, but he hadn’t expected someone to make a snide reference to it at what should have been the Clan Ferros’s production opening celebration. Of course, without a viable means of stabilising and using the synthetic hex crystals, there’s not yet a need to open a facility, so the celebration has turned into something closer to a series of gladiator fights between guests who trade underhanded comments whilst trying to wheedle useful information out of their opponents.

“Viktor!”

Who at this hellish, forsaken event—

Viktor turns to see Caitlyn Kiramman with a hand in the air for his attention as she fixes him and his companion in her direct path. She approaches with such speed he’s not yet managed to collect himself enough to return her greeting, though it’s not needed. She swiftly loops her arm in his, addresses Boswell Holloran, makes their excuses in the same breath, and half-drags him to the refuge of a bench next to a large, leafy plant. “Sorry to be so forward,” she gasps, releasing him to allow him to sit. She takes the seat next to him with a sheepish smile.

“It’s alright,” he responds with a wave of dismissal. “I can appreciate a finely executed rescue for what it is.” As far as Piltover’s elite go, Caitlyn Kiramman is… redeemable. Jayce has always said she has a good heart, and Viktor recognises she has an earnest compassion that she deploys heedless of a person’s background. It reminds him of Jayce.

She cracks a grin and scans the room until her eyes land on their mutual friend, who is now trapped with Camille Ferros in addition to Salo. Caitlyn breathes a short sigh of either relief at their escape or pained sympathy at Jayce’s predicament. Maybe it’s both. “I’d try for him, too, but…” She shrugs. Their flight from Holloran has brought them nearer to Jayce, and Viktor can just make out the warm tones of his former partner’s voice if he listens for it. He concentrates on Caitlyn instead. “And Jayce can handle himself,” she continues. “You know he threw Holloran into a champagne tower last year? Or was it the year before that—”

Viktor chokes on a cough. “He what?”

“Oh, he didn’t—of course, right. He didn’t tell you.” The young woman has enough self-awareness to look a bit cowed at having let this slip, but her chagrin soon loses to her amusement. “Well, he did.”

They sit stock still for a second before making eye contact. Then, Viktor chokes again, but this time, it’s because he’s laughing. “What reason did he have to do that?”

Her smile lingers as she shifts her weight forward, heels of her palms against the edge of the bench. “I didn’t ask. I was too busy hauling him upstairs to keep Mother from making a scene in the middle of everything.” Her blue eyes sparkle at the memory. “Anyways. Didn’t think we needed to repeat that, so.” She makes a vague gesture in Viktor’s direction.

“I see.” Truthfully, he doesn’t. He makes a mental note to ask Jayce about this champagne tower incident later.

They sit for a little while, Caitlyn surveying the crowd and Viktor catching his breath before she muses, “Camille Ferros looks like a sort of… beautiful… piranha.”

His expression turns to one of cautious curiosity. No one makes any indication of having overheard Caitlyn Kiramman compare the primary intelligencer of Clan Ferros to a fish—a predator, but a fish nonetheless.

“Actually a very apt description.”

Camille is the subject of many an Undercity child’s nightmares, with her blades for legs and a smile sharpened by cutting throats. “Miss Kiramman,” he starts, sparing a glance towards Jayce and his company again before he’s satisfied they haven’t even noticed him and Caitlyn sitting metres away. “Has Jayce mentioned anything about…” He pauses to consider his phrasing, “the Undercity to you?”

She catches his caution belying a secondary meaning, and her wary expression mirrors his own. “We talked a little when he came by the other day. Why?”

“Oh, we thought you might have heard about the Ferros Clan’s latest… venture.” Viktor holds her gaze, unblinking. “Innovative group. Shame we could not crack their crystals for tonight.” She gives the smallest nod. He appreciates her grasp of subtlety, especially with the subject of discussion so close at hand. “We’ve made progress, though, should you like to come by the lab.”

“I would like that.” Caitlyn’s smile turns sharp. “Though I imagine my duties might keep me… otherwise occupied in the coming weeks.” She stands, smoothing her dress with practiced grace. “I should see if my mother has arrived, but can I get you a drink before I go? You look like you could use one.”

Viktor almost turns her down—alcohol dulls the mind, and he needs his wits about him tonight. His leg, however, throbs in time with his pulse, and even this brief rest has only shifted the pain from his back to his hip. The rest of the evening stretches endlessly before him, even with Jayce’s promise of an early departure. It’s uncertain how quickly Jayce will be able to disentangle himself from his company. Mel Medarda now approaches Jayce’s group, parting the crowd with effortless grace. “Something light,” he concedes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Thank you.”

Viktor spots Boswell Holloran looking their way again as Caitlyn departs, and the thought that they’ve managed to somehow retain his attention makes him especially weary. Viktor closes his eyes for what feels like the briefest of seconds before Caitlyn returns. “I asked them for a spritzer,” she says, pressing a lime-garnished glass into his hand. “But it’s always nice to have something in hand at these things.”

Her thoughtfulness catches him off-guard. He accepts the glass with a grateful nod, and the sip he takes from it proves refreshing. He’s quite parched, he realises then. It takes some self-control to not drink the whole thing down like water. “Thank you.”

She nods, her voice light but serious as she responds, “Try not to throw anyone into any champagne towers tonight—and do be careful with your… research.”

He gives her a quiet smile, and she touches his shoulder with an encouraging hand—a gesture so reminiscent of Jayce that Viktor takes another drink to dull the recognition. He’s wary of how easily he spots these traces of Jayce, how it might lead him to misplace his trust again. But given the delicate situation, there are worse allies than Caitlyn Kiramman and her Undercity ties.

The enforcer weaves through the crowd, pausing only to exchange pleasantries with exactly the right people before she disappears through a side door. Her exit goes especially unremarked, given her standing. Well played.

Viktor settles back against the wall, wincing as he shifts his weight into a position that allows him to observe both Jayce’s ongoing political theatre and the rest of the room’s carefully orchestrated chaos. The ballroom itself is a study in Piltovan excess, crystal chandeliers catching light like captured stars, its occupants dressed in clothes worth more than he might have made in a year in the Undercity.

The thought sours him, not for want of money, but because his living would have been a good one, which says more than enough about the state of the fissure folk. Maybe it’s this mood that allows him to vanish into the environment, worth no more note than the potted plant beside him. He’s grateful for the release.

After a while of nursing his drink and watching the societal battlefield before him shift and evolve, he turns his attention, once more, to his former partner. Through the crowd’s shifting currents, he catches fragments of Jayce’s careful deflections. The scientist-socialite has mastered this dance over the years—a self-deprecating laugh here, a strategic compliment there, always steering the conversation just shy of actual commitments.

“Councillor Salo raises an excellent point about production timelines,” Jayce is saying, somehow making his worried frown appear thoughtful instead. “Though of course, rushing the stabilisation process could have… unfortunate consequences.”

There’s a telling sound of metal on tile as Camille Ferros takes two steps closer. “Unfortunate for whom, exactly?”

“For everyone involved in production, naturally.” Jayce’s smile doesn’t waver. It’s a good thing Camille is wearing a long dress, or the sight of lethal blades might not make his confidence so easy. “The safety of Piltover’s workers must be our primary concern.”

Viktor recognises Jayce’s use of ‘Piltover’s workers’, despite their suspicions of a Ferros plant in the Undercity. Not only does the phrase make it appear Jayce is none the wiser to Clan Ferros’s movements, it serves as an understated reminder the citizens of the Undercity are still, technically, Piltovan. It’s clever. Of the two of them, Jayce has always been better at this game of doublespeak and sleight of hand.

But Viktor can see the subtle tells of Jayce’s growing frustration: his toothy smile, the slight bounce in his stance that speaks to his barely contained restless energy, and the way he keeps accepting drinks. Councillor Medarda has successfully joined the fray now, and Viktor is unexpectedly relieved to see her at Jayce’s side. The careful distance he observed between them when he saw them last remains. Yet even the way she positions herself, slightly behind Jayce but angled to catch his eye, speaks to years of practiced influence. When she touches Jayce’s arm, it’s a calculated gesture that reminds everyone of what she and Jayce accomplished together, changing the paradigm around the use of magic so he and Jayce could realise their Hextech dreams.

She was instrumental in their early days, spearheading the cultural shift that had Piltover embracing Hextech when the city had originally been founded as a refuge from the Rune Wars. As useful and profitable as Hextech is, Viktor doubts that it would have amassed the monumental support it had so quickly if it weren’t for her.

Mel catches Viktor assessing them from across the room. When their eyes meet, he doesn’t look away. He’s never been intimidated by Mel Medarda, which, he imagines, has frustrated her in the past. Now, something akin to recognition passes between them. Understanding. She carries a certain precarious weight; he’s seen it before in others who have needed to craft themselves into instruments that both persuade and maim.

The two of them are outsiders in Piltover. For him, topside eyes fail to see anything other than a leech affixed to Jayce’s coattails. And despite her wealth, the power, and the influence she’s cultivated, they will never accept that she truly has the city’s best interests at heart. She turns back to the conversation, deftly steering it to a close with such skill that Councillor Salo almost kisses Jayce’s hand in addition to hers when they part.

Mel has always been artful in her approach, all warm smiles exuding confidence, guiding movements like an orchestral conductor. All the while, everyone leaves satisfied, feeling they’ve drawn their own conclusions. She is weakened by neither pride nor ego to tell them otherwise. Now that he has distance from her attempts to use her skills on him, he has to respect her prowess.

Viktor watches as the small group disperses, Mel and Jayce heading towards him with her hand light but firm at Jayce’s elbow. She navigates the crowd with a practiced ease that betrays nothing, and it’s not until she releases his arm upon arrival that Viktor notices Jayce swaying slightly as he beams down at him.

“I believe this belongs to you,” Mel says in lieu of a greeting.

Viktor arches an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware he belonged to anyone.”

“Oh, you know what I mean,” she counters with a light air that reveals her fondness, even under the exasperation in her voice. “Someone needs to see him home safely.”

“I’m right here,” Jayce protests, though he’s already leaning slightly towards Viktor on the bench. “And perfectly capable of—”

“Of course you are,” Mel interrupts, smiling as she takes Jayce’s hand. “And I’m sure Viktor agrees you’re very capable. But let him help you, for a change, hm?” She meets Viktor’s eyes; her statement stings like a barb and yet feels like a hand offered in solidarity. She bids them farewell, and Viktor watches her go, mulling over the oddity of being approached tonight by the only other two people he would consider Jayce close to.

When he turns back, Jayce has claimed the space Caitlyn once occupied, close enough that Viktor can feel heat radiating from him. His cheeks are flushed, pupils dark save for a thin ring of gold and the reflection of crystalline starlight.

“I’m so sorry,” Jayce says in a rush, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to leave you—”

“I know. You were very soundly swept away,” Viktor excuses, finishing his drink and handing it off to a passing attendant. “Besides, it gave me the opportunity to speak to Miss Kiramman.”

Jayce lights up at the mention. “Oh, good—you saw her. I meant to say ‘hi’, where’d she go?”

“She had things to take care of, I believe.” Viktor leans forward, testing his grip against his crutch. He hates these slick floors; getting up without slipping on them is always a tenuous affair. He pauses when Jayce’s large hand enters his periphery. “I can—” he starts to object, but Jayce’s unguarded expression, so close to pleading, pulls a reluctant sigh of assent from him. “Fine. Thank you.” He takes the offered hand in his free one, allowing the man to brace his other side as he rises.

Once he’s standing, Jayce seems uncertain of what to do. Viktor recalls Mel’s hand at his elbow, a subtle, steadying force. With an experimental hesitance, he offers a crooked arm to his former partner. Relief washes over the man’s face as he takes the cue, and together, they make their way from the room under the impression that, once again, Jayce Talis has to mind his feeble lab partner instead of continuing to dance the waltz of councillors, merchants, and investors.

This particular tactic has never bothered him, truthfully; it has often served as a helpful obstruction to their true dynamic. It’s always been easy to turn underestimation into opportunities. They had entertained using this tactic in the early days of Hextech but ultimately decided it was for the best Viktor stay in the lab to further their work whilst Jayce secured the means to do it.

It was a relief, at first, to have someone else to manage the public comings and goings, keeping the press up-to-date about Hextech projects and funders. After Jayce had been appointed to the Council, though, his responsibilities grew insurmountably. Viktor perhaps should have allowed the other man to lean on him then, to at least grant him an audience to his frustrations, and yet Viktor had closed Jayce off.

We didn’t have time for that nonsense, he chastises himself. The year before their estrangement had been one of their more difficult ones, fraught with health scares and roadblocks. Much like now, Viktor had known he was running out of time.

As they make their way down the hall, Viktor can see concern bleeding through Jayce’s meticulously arranged exterior despite his champagne haze. “You okay? You look…”

“Like death warmed over?” Viktor glares at the grand staircase unfolding in front of them—not a mechanised lift in sight, of course. “These spectacles are hardly ever convenient.”

Jayce winces, and Viktor catches the man’s eyes darting down to his bad leg. “We could get a carriage from the service entrance,” he suggests, the upward lilt of his voice making the offer sound like a question. “The slope is gentler there.”

“And let them gossip about how you had to demean yourself for your poor Undercity ‘assistant’? I think not.” Viktor takes a steadying breath at the top of the stairs. “Though, I wouldn’t object to taking these slowly.”

After what feels like aeons longer than it should take to descend a flight of stairs, no matter how excessive, Jayce does hail one of the city’s carriages. Viktor can’t say he’s not relieved to take the weight off his leg again, even if, once again, it means he trades one pain for another. He absently rubs his hip joint until he notices Jayce watching. It may simply be his inebriated state, but Viktor feels his cheeks and neck flushing against the evening chill. He clears his throat. “What’s this Caitlyn tells me about you tossing Boswell Holloran into a tower of champagne glasses?”

Jayce groans, letting his head fall sideways against the window with a dull thud. “She told you about that?”

“Yes, though she was rather light on the details.” Viktor rubs his thumb idly over one of the golden brackets on his crutch. “She mentioned it was at one of her family’s functions, however.”

Jayce picks his head up just enough that it thuds again when he drops back into place. “Caitlyn, why?” he laments under his breath. Viktor watches the glass fog at Jayce’s sigh. “Okay, okay. He said… things. About you. That I didn’t appreciate.”

“Is that all?” Viktor thought they were far past this—when they had first launched Hextech, they’d had to get used to all kinds of snide quips and other such uncouth behaviour. “People say things about me all the time.”

“Yeah, but he said some…” Jayce waves his hand vaguely, nearly clipping Viktor’s crutch. “Particular things. And we’d just gotten you to the hospital, and I was… I was scared.” He looks stricken at this, eyes focused on some spot past Viktor’s head.

“’Gotten me to the hospital’?” Viktor questions with narrowed eyes. Caitlyn said that this happened some time last year or the year before. The last time Jayce should have been involved in any hospital stay of his should have been well before. “What do you mean?”

Jayce clenches his mouth shut, looking one step away from slamming his head straight through the window. Viktor’s hand twitches towards him, as if he might, but he just answers, “When you… collapsed. In that Undercity factory—they sent me a message. Said you were in… a ‘clinic’, but you’ve… talked about how there’s no actual medical care down there.” He opts to look down at his hands instead of Viktor, worrying his thumb over the etched face of the rune at his wrist. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t supposed to be a secret—I just thought… you’d be mad about it.” He takes a breath before looking back up at Viktor through dark eyelashes, and the look ricochets around Viktor’s ribcage. “You’re not mad, are you? Please don’t be mad.”

Viktor wants to be mad. It’s one thing for Jayce to involve himself in the affairs of his health when they’re working together, but it’s another thing entirely for Jayce to be involved when they’re supposed to be estranged. He’s furious at himself for having such bleeding sentimentality—he knows exactly how the factory foreman had gotten Jayce’s contact information—from one of Jayce’s notebooks, where it had been tucked into his bag. Where it had been every day since he’d left Piltover. He takes a deep breath. He supposes it was his fault, in the end. “Who’s ‘we’?”

Though Viktor asks the question with resignation, Jayce seems to try to disappear into the cushion of the carriage seat. “Um, Caitlyn’s… person, Vi. And… Vi’s sister.”

The silence stretches between them. Viktor can feel a headache building behind his eyes, though whether from the evening’s strain or this revelation, he’s not sure. He doesn’t know much about Violet or her sister, but he does recall leveraging his own Undercity connections when Caitlyn had asked him (through Jayce) to search for a girl called ‘Powder’. She and Violet had scoured the Undercity for weeks, accessing records of deaths, births, and incarcerations to try and find this sister. In the end, they had turned up not ‘Powder’, but a girl called ‘Jinx’ instead.

Jayce can’t seem to take the quiet any longer. “Please don’t be mad,” he repeats. He reaches across them to place a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. His warmth seeps through, despite the layers of Viktor’s evening wear, and he finds himself leaning almost imperceptibly into it before he can stop himself. It’s been long enough since anyone has touched him with the kind of earnest feeling Jayce does, and his body betrays him with its instinctive response.

“Jayce, you cannot simply keep telling me not to be mad and expect that to work.”

“I know, I know. I don’t expect it to work. It’s just… I’m hoping.” Those deep brown eyes peer anxiously at Viktor. “So… are you mad?”

In truth, he’s not mad. He’s tired. Exhausted, even. He doesn’t have the energy to be angry about this anymore, not when it happened so long ago and not when they’ve had so much between them since then. He doesn’t relish the thought of needing rescue at the hands of practical strangers, but at least it had been Jayce behind it all along. It was exactly what he had secretly wanted, what a shameful part of himself had longed for—Jayce to find him, see him, in the many months he’d been in the Undercity. The needling embarrassment is enough to shake away most of his pride. “I’m… not mad,” he admits, though quickly adds, “not happy, either—just… not mad.” He adjusts his grip on his crutch, tearing his gaze away from that soft, pleading face and focusing on the plush interior of the carriage instead. It’s velvet, of all things—very impractical. “I suppose I’m glad to not owe some unknown Undercity entity a favour, which is what I thought had happened.” Though, perhaps that would be simpler than owing Jayce—again.

“Okay. Good.” Jayce doesn’t seem to sense his inner conflict. “I mean—I would have told you. Eventually.” Jayce puts a hand on his knee—they’re close enough in the confines of the carriage that Viktor could write it off as an accident if it weren’t for the way Jayce leans his weight into his palm. “I wish we talked more, V,” he sighs, then furrows his brows together too tightly. Viktor wants to kiss the crease away. He swallows. “Should I—I’ve been calling you ‘V’… Should I stop?” Jayce asks the question as though holding it at arm’s length.

“No.” His answer surprises both of them, but if Viktor stops to think, it shouldn’t. He hasn’t corrected Jayce or complained in the time since he’s taken to using the old nickname. Relinquishing this resentment feels like admitting to a weakness he’s been fighting since he first heard Jayce say it again. It’s been so difficult to maintain the walls he’s put up. Jayce is so close. So easy to reach out and touch.

Being in Piltover has underscored what he’s known since accepting his need to return: his health is worse than ever and declining. Some days, he feels that he’s grasping for consciousness, barely remembering why he’s holding himself apart when Jayce’s warmth is right there, offering the comfort they used to share so easily. He’s so tired of spending what little energy he has on maintaining that distance.

“I think… It is alright if you call me that.”

The smile lighting Jayce’s face makes Viktor’s eyes and nose prickle with the threat of tears. It’s the same unguarded joy in Viktor’s early memories of their first Distinguished Innovator’s competition. They’d stayed up all night fine-tuning their presentation—only to forget the last gears they needed for the apparatus. Back then, everything had been so simple, just two young scientists determined to do good in the world. Their biggest crisis had been the frantic notching of gears hours before going on stage, not the tangled web of politics, economics, and unrest they face now.

“I’m glad. I like calling you ‘V’.” Jayce’s thumb draws idle circles on his knee, and Viktor feels the ache in the joint calm. He’s not interested in pursuing whether it’s his imagination. “I miss you.”

Warmth blooms in Viktor’s chest, eliciting a sharp intake of breath. A waterfall follows—Viktor flinches at the pain that inhale causes; Jayce reaches for him in alarm; the carriage comes to a halt; and Jayce nearly falls into Viktor’s lap. “I’m alright.” Viktor grabs Jayce’s forearm to both steady and assure him. The contact sends a wave of warmth through him, dangerous in its familiarity and boldness. He swallows. “Besides, this is my stop.” He opens the carriage door to the balmy summer, hoping the night air will dispel this thing between them.

“Oh.” Jayce doesn’t move his hand from Viktor’s knee. His face is tilted up, features softly resolving in moonlight and shadow on his skin, full lips parted just so. Viktor is caught between the urge to close this distance and the equally powerful need to flee.

He manages to contain himself well enough to alight from the carriage, ignoring how his chest tightens at the loss of contact. He pauses to steady himself against his crutch, his free hand poised to close the door. “Good night, Jayce.”

“Good night, V.”

It’s only after he’s inside that he begins to replay the moment in his mind. Jayce’s face, so naked with longing—or just drunk on the evening’s champagne and flattery. His former partner has always been so physical; to be within arm’s reach is to be touched by Jayce Talis, no matter who you were.

Two years of resentment, flares of fury, and heartbreak at the mere thought of him—these past months of carefully maintained distance—all undone by those patient hands, sun-kissed golden eyes, and the idea that Jayce would take him back.

Jayce isn’t as blind to the world’s workings as he was when the committee drove Viktor out. He’s seen the evidence of that with his own eyes, can hear it in the way Jayce turns things over out loud. He questions things, challenging assumptions he once took for granted simply because they were ‘the way things were’.

Is it enough? Is any of it ever enough?

Despite these questions, despite his irritation at his own weakness, his own frivolous humanity, his knee still tingles where Jayce’s hand rested.

He hadn’t watched the carriage pull away. He tells himself it’s because he was tired, not because he knew that Jayce would still be watching the door, waiting to make sure he got inside safely. He tells himself the ache in his chest is from a night of exertion, not walking away from that suspended moment, fleeting seconds lacing them together. Tells himself that he’d only felt stress, not anticipation.

Viktor has never favoured lying, even to himself. But sometimes, lies are necessary for survival.

𓊈 first chapter | previous chapter | next chapter on AO3 𓊉

AN: yeeeee thanks for reading chapter 13, 'The Choreography of Stars' from our fic Lies We Tell Ourselves!! and thank you to folks here who have commented and reblogged previous chapters!! 💖

We're way ahead on AO3 and updating tomorrow ✨ with a chapter we are EXTREMELY excited to share with y'all like seriously i am jumping up and down tearing at my leash chewing on the furniture

[crowley-stardust]

so im posting my merthur wip hope its decent. concept is that there’s a shapeshifter that appears as your greatest love. Arthur has gone to tackle this alone and mysteriously. Merlin has followed him because of course. We are in the woods.

——

Merlin felt like he was intruding, seeing Arthur so openly in love like this. The envy festered in his belly, green and sickening.

And then the shapeshifter appeared. Dark, messy hair, an open grin, a clumsy gait, and a very familiar outfit.

Oh gods.

It was him.

Merlin was stuck fast, wide eyed, his heart pounding in his chest. This was not something he had ever prepared for. Not even something he thought could happen. Arthur cared for him? What on earth had that thing said to him to get him to follow?

He fast reasoned that it must be a platonic bond, built on trust, that cemented him as Arthur’s greatest love. His greatest love. Romance was clearly out of the question here.

And yet.

Merlin’s mouth fell open in shock as the siren ran his fingertips slowly over Arthur’s shoulders, and down his strong arms. He could almost feel the contours of Arthur’s body on his own fingertips. Having dressed Arthur so often, he knew the planes of his arms and shoulders almost like the back of his own hands. Long had he dreamed of tracing them like this. He gasped aloud when the shapeshifter tugged on his sword belt, causing Arthur to laugh, undoing it and throwing it into the undergrowth.

Merlin should have been concerned that the thing had disarmed him, but he was far more focused on its clear mission in touching as much of Arthur as possible. Its hands slipped under his white tunic, Arthur laughing as they awkwardly tried to remove it. They finally got it off him, Arthur dramatically throwing his shirt as he tugged Not-Merlin towards him to kiss his neck, Arthur’s hands running through its hair. Merlin breathed desperately, watching his love shiver as shapeshifter kissed and licked at his neck, bliss evident on his face.

Merlin’s blood seemingly had no idea what to do with itself or where to go. He should probably put a stop to this, and save Arthur, but watching his fantasies come to life was quite riveting, actually. The siren annoyingly had Merlin down to a tee. He watched himself melt into Arthur’s touch, and whisper something into Arthur’s ear that made him chuckle. Arthur smiled back.

“I’m yours.” He said, loving and earnest.

He then boldly took its face in his hands-

Merlin snapped back into reality. He had to do something now. He leapt out of his hiding spot and tumbled down the bank.

“Arthur! That isn’t me!” He shouted, feet slipping on the muddy ground as he rushed towards them.

Arthur turned to Merlin, and jumped away from the siren as if he was burned, his face flushing red with shock and embarrassment. He looked between the creature and Merlin frantically.

“What are you doing here?”

“Saving your life, you git!” Merlin grabbed the shapeshifter’s arms, and shoved it away from Arthur, tackling it to the floor. It was very odd fighting himself, but his self loathing was deep enough that it was fairly therapeutic.

Arthur had somehow turned redder, with embarrassment or fury, Merlin wasn’t sure. “Well at least I know you’re the real you, this thing didn’t disrespect me once.”

“It had a bloody good go at it though! Good job I got here.”

“Yes, great job, well done Merlin.” Arthur said through gritted teeth.

Arthur, at this point, was feeling many things, most of which he couldn’t bring himself put into words. Confusion, horror, and the flames of embarrassment coursed through his whole body. However, watching Merlin frantically wrestle with himself also let in a few flickers of something that shot down into his belly, that he probably shouldn’t have been feeling in such a grave situation. He winced at his own insanity, and focused on the matter at hand, desperately searching in the leafy undergrowth for his sword belt.

The siren managed to push Merlin off, flipping them over, pressing his wrists into the mud. He was pinned there by the thing, still looking up at his own face, vindictive and angry.

“Ah… what have we here… you’re a different one, aren’t you. Complicated.” Merlin winced, as the thing tightened its grip, nails digging into flesh. “Must be difficult looking at your own face with so much self hatred. How’s this one?”

Merlin watched in horror as the siren’s face morphed from his own into exactly who he suspected he would see. Dark curls unfurled into a soft blonde, his narrow jaw became strong, square, and he saw the face he had shaved so many times, the eyes he saw blinking into the morning sun every day, settle before him on the face of the siren. The weight on him changed: Arthur’s shape was stronger, heavier. The hands around his wrists became familiar, callouses from sword fighting blooming on its palms, and he couldn’t help but slightly relax into its touch.

He dared not look up and catch the real Arthur’s reaction. He hoped he was still searching for his sword.

The siren smiled with Arthur’s face, soft and loving. Merlin had seen that smile on him just moments earlier, when he first broke into the clearing. He craved this. His traitorous heart filled with bittersweet joy.

[pokipopii]

why are the BFDI contestants getting depressed?

Why are the BFDI contestants getting depressed? When is it time to stop competing?

So, I saw the episode Seasonal Shift and I’m sure you have too. But if you haven’t, that episode is going to be referenced. 

So, in season one, BFDI, these characters seemed like they were just silly guys having a lighthearted competition for a prize. Right? And during this season, that’s all it was. Friendships were being made, alliances, and most importantly, they seemed to be having a good time. Even if they weren’t the ones winning. The problems really started happening when the TLC got involved. The area in which the contestants go when they’re eliminated. 

The failed debuters and the eliminated contestants were placed into the box for the entirety of the season, but during the season they switched to the LOL (locker of losers). But why mention the elimination area? They got fed bread, and they even got a window. But what I’d like to mention is in BFDIA, the second season, pillow, one of the failed debuters and one of the people left in the LOL. In episode “pointy,pointy,pointy” Pillow, the character known for infamously being a murder says the line “enough killing, I would never advocate for that”. But what made the shift between BFDIA and BFB? Well, possibly the change of heart is just mental issues. I mean, she was in the LOL for awhile. 

But if this was caused by going a little bit crazy in the metal box that is the LOL, than it surely couldn’t get any worse. I mean, even in BFDIA the constants still seem happy and eager to compete. Until time goes on. Because sure, in the season there’s been conflict, and fighting, with a tinge of backstabbing. At some points more literal than metaphorical. But nothing compares to the newest episode, “Airplanes in The Night Sky”. Because the competition gets way too serious. The episode started with the lighthearted simple challenge as it usually did. Tennis ball won a token to split up Pin and Coiny. During the episode, Pin jumps at the chance to kill to win, and betray her own friend.

The competition isn’t just a friendly sport anymore. It’s ruining friendships. And this is most clear with FreetSmart. Eliminations and competition are the cause of their slow fallout. Choosing who deserves to stay in the alliance, pressuring each other into situations, and expecting too much from each other. The fallout of FreeSmart, even as I loved the team, was an expected result to their circumstances. The competition even split up the bonds between Firey and Leafy, as well as Match and Pencil. I mean, Match and Pencil both spent time in the LOL and the EXIT. I’d act like Pencil too. 

But that’s the thing. Let’s take the two exitors that got into TPOT for example, Pencil and Liy. They went through the same thing, but have responded to it very differently, but yet have similar responses. Pencil has gone rogue, trying anything and everything to win challenges just to stay in the game and away from eliminations. She’s a nervous wreck and she’s very clearly traumatized from the whole thing. She wants to avoid memories of the EXIT, such as anyone who was there, and Four himself, but Liy has gone about her need not to lose differently. She’s forming bonds, making friends, and being more careful who she stays around. She’s being a supportive team player.

And this makes sense, because people who have had trauma, no matter how similar their stories may be. They respond to their experiences differently. But now we know just how damaging it is for their mental health to be trapped in an elimination area, what can we do? Even Two, the objectively better and kinder host traps people. But I’m pretty sure he’ll at least set them free after. But hey, maybe I’m overreacting to these details.

[kayr0ss]

Platform

[Gundam: The Witch from Mercury / GWitch, Sulemio, Fluff & Humor, School era, happy & lighthearted, suletta is tall, i love to see it, miorine doesn't, lmfao] AO3 Link

Summary: Miorine is frustrated at Suletta's antics, and asks Nika for some help.

-

"A—what?"

From the top of her head, Nika could count two—maybe three—people she would have expected to find in the hangar workshop so late at night: Chuchu if she was bored, Martin when he got worried about her working too late, and Suletta whenever Aerial had repairs underway.

Not Miorine, though. As involved as she was in GUND-ARM, Inc.'s development process, she wasn't exactly the 'rummage through the workshop shelves in the middle of the night' type of leader.

"A platform."

And yet here she was, rummaging through the workshop shelves in the middle of the night, undeterred by the grease that had smeared along her uniform blouse. Whatever it was she was looking for, it must have been important. The frown of impatience on her face said so.

"What kind?" Nika probed. She was now looking over Miorine’s shoulder, wringing her hands behind her back in curiosity while the other woman stuck her hand into a bin of spare parts. Her tongue was sticking out sideways, and she looked so focused that Nika didn't have the heart to tell her she wasn't going to find anything useful in there.

"Any kind," came Miorine's curt reply. "But preferably around fifteen centimeters tall, forty-five in width, and around thirty in depth?"

Nika crossed her arms, unimpressed. "So, not 'anything'?"

"Well.” Miorine hesitated. “Not exactly, no."

"What is it for?"

"Nothing important."

Nika smiled kindly. Now she was terribly intrigued. "Important enough that you're out here in the middle of the night, Miorine-san. Do you need it fabricated?"

Miorine shook her head. "It isn't for work, so there's no need for me to bother you with it."

"Friends help each other out," Nika said simply, equal parts curious and happy to help. "It doesn't have to be for work. It isn't a bother."

Miorine softened at that, enough to have released her arm from its prison among fabricated metal. Nika hummed her displeasure at the bin, and the many others around the hangar like it. She'd probably have to clean up shop, maybe re-organize? Miorine had suggested getting rid of all their scrap, but... Earth House has a hard time letting things go in a way that Miorine might never understand.

She paused to think about Nika's offer for a minute, then finally acquiesced.  "I suppose that you could."

"Great!" Nika liked having problems to solve. "We can start with you telling me what you'll use it for."

Miorine crossed her arms, her frown deep and her glare sharp. "I refuse."

"What?"

And then there it was, the almost-unnoticeable dusting of pink on her cheeks. "And you can't tell Suletta."

"Huh?"

--

Nika had taken Miorine's opened office door as an invitation to come in, but found herself frozen at the doorway. Seeing Suletta look imposing was definitely... new. Miorine with a look of indignation across her face? Much less new.

"Unbelievable," the smaller woman grumbled. Despite her words, her hands held loosely onto the front of Suletta's uniform. She never really thought that Suletta and Miorine argued, but it certainly looked like they were.

"N—No, Miorine-san." Suletta pouted, fighting to hold her ground, nearly faltering. "Not until you eat something better!"

Ah. Things started clicking into place: the half-eaten bowl of instant noodles that Suletta was holding up above Miorine's reach, the fact that it was now three in the afternoon, the untouched takeaway box on her desk that probably had something green and leafy and much too nutritious for Miorine to ever want to eat. Nika tried to fight the laugh that bubbled from her throat, opting instead to loudly cough, letting them know that she was now standing at the threshold to Miorine's office with a stack of paperwork in hand.

She was expecting Miorine to let go. But she didn't. Now that she thought about it—it wasn't like Miorine had ever shied away from holding onto Suletta.

"Nika-san!" Suletta smiled. It looked like she was about to come over and greet her, but Miorine was still holding onto her, and Suletta seemed perfectly content to let her keep her there, to gently settle her free hand around her waist.

"Hello, Suletta." Nika held up the documents, learning over to try to get a glimpse of Miorine. "And Miorine-san. Is now a good time for you to sign these?"

"Yes—" Miorine started, immediately cutoff by Suletta's nervous "N—No!"

Miorine looked up at her, unimpressed. "No?"

"Eat… eat something good first." Suletta said in a small, panicked voice. And then, softly, added: "Please?"

Nika had never seen Miorine come undone before. But there it was: something gentle, something tender. If not for herself, then for Suletta. It might have only been a split second—a passing moment of fondness in her normally steely eyes—but Nika always had impeccable attention to detail. Miorine's head fell forward and onto Suletta's front.

"Fine," she said in a muffled voice. "So annoying."

It would have been sweet had Chuchu not barged into the office with a bone to pick with their president.

"Oi, Princess! These stupid spacian customers were—”

She stopped at the door, glowered towards Suletta and Miorine, whipped her head towards Nika who could only shrug, before throwing her hands up in the air and turning a sharp hundred and eighty degrees back out where she came from.

"Never mind. So clingy!" She stomped away. "Makes me want to punch something!"

--

From: miorine.rembran@gund-arm.inc  Sent: 11:43PM SEST To: nika.nanaura@gund-arm.inc Subject: Platform & updates

Nika,

See attached article re: microscale hydraulic lifts. I'm thinking of some sort of quick deploy mechanism - let me know if workable.

I appreciate the report you sent on the arm prosthetic. Unfortunately I think it will go over the heads of our investors, but will be great for updates to my father & Dr. Winston. Please ask Till to shoot a demo video instead - perhaps something flashy?

P.S. - here is a photo of Suletta with our new tomato seedlings.

Best,

MR

--

"Uhm." Miorine blinked down at the food. "Nika?"

"You look hungry," Nika smiled, a little too sweetly. Chuchu was already rolling her eyes. "You should take this and bring the other out to Suletta."

"But it's your food?"

"Yeah, Nika." Chuchu crossed her arms, sending her a pointed glare. "I'm pretty sure one of those boxes is mine."

"This is Suletta's favorite, and you hardly get enough time to eat!" Nika insisted, already pushing her towards the balcony door.

Miorine stumbled forward, confused but not unwilling. "Thank you?"

Suletta had looked up towards them by now, probably hearing the commotion. The sight of Miorine joining her on what was looking like a lovely dinner watching the sunset had brightened her soft smile into something blinding. Nika let out out a satisfied laugh.

"Hey, Nika." Chuchu called.

"Yeah?"

"Ever heard of minding your own fucking business?" she asked lightheartedly.

Nika laughed. "Nope."

Chuchu threw her hands behind her head while they walked away. "Apparently, neither have I!"

--

"If you want something that releases quickly, a hydraulic-lift type platform like you suggested isn't going to work."

Nika crouched down in front of her prototype. It was a small mechanical platform that had four collapsed legs, and four equidistant springs. Miorine's specifications had become increasingly limiting: apparently it should be lightweight, shouldn't be too bulky, and should be quick to deploy. Miorine had firmly asked that Nika only do it whenever she had the time and felt like it. But it was fun, so she did it anyway even if she didn't.

"You want its compressed state to have the highest level of kinetic potential so that," she pulled away a locking pin—the entire system released with a loud snap, oscillating up and down from the force of its springs. It was so strong that one of the legs snapped at the joint. "It shoots up like this! So, springs work better."

"I see," Miorine nodded in appreciation. "Thank you for looking into my suggestion, though. I'll defer to your expertise. I'm guessing you'll need to mitigate how strong the springs are?"

"Yeah," Nika rubbed at the back of her head with a sheepish smile. "I just put this together as a proof of concept. We'll need to find the right amount of damping, or just change the springs. We had a few classes on this, if you remember? With the free body diagrams, and state-space equations?"

"Oh. Transfer functions."

"Yes! It's all just a spring, mass, load, damper. Though I much prefer doing those in circuitry." She laughed.

Miorine smiled kindly. "I don't know that I prefer to do them at all."

"I think you'd have made a great engineer, actually."

"I don't know," Miorine quipped jokingly. "I quite like telling other people what to do instead."

Nika laughed, noting the irony of hearing that from one of the most arguably workaholic people she'd ever met.

--

It took all the convincing Nika and Aliya could muster to drag Suletta out of their classes and back to Earth House. They'd never really seen her get sick before—but when she did, she went down bad.

Miorine was there when they arrived, looking over something Nuno had prototyped. Then Suletta came into view looking sick and disoriented, and Miorine forgot everything else in an instant: the prototype, her mug of coffee, the quarterly report that would be due that same afternoon.

"You idiot," was the first thing Miorine said, but the way she gently reached up to lay the back of her hand to Suletta's forehead carried a gentleness so sincere that Nika suspects she simply didn't know the words to convey it. "No fever, but you look like shit."

"I-I'm fine—" Suletta stuttered. Her head was bowed low enough that Miorine could brush back her bangs, damp with cold sweat. "It's nothing."

She must have said something wrong because Miorine drew a sharp breath and shook her head. If Nika didn't know better, she'd think she was angry.

"You promised," Miorine's voice was firm, her eyes intense while her hands fell to squeeze Suletta on the shoulders. "You promised me that you'd tell me how you were feeling."

"I—" Suletta started. She swallowed, nervously looking away. "I did. I have a headache... I don't feel well."

Miorine stared at her a little longer before finally softening, holding Suletta's face with both hands while she scanned it for anything that might be wrong. "Did you stay up studying again?"

Suletta gave her tired, guilty smile.

"Your immune system will tank if you don't get enough sleep."

Suletta pouted. "You don't either."

Miorine scoffed, annoyed. "Two wrongs don't make a right."

"Mhmm." Suletta mumbled. "Two lefts do."

Miorine, taken by surprise, actually laughs a little. "That doesn't make a lick of sense, you blockhead. You're finally delirious."

"You looked so worried," Suletta mumbled softly, face flushed by either a fever finally setting, or something else entirely. Her hands had pitifully come up to the hem of Miorine's uniform, holding onto it. "I—I wanted to make you laugh."

"If you don't want me to worry, then take care of yourself."

"You're right," Suletta leaned into the warmth of Miorine's hand on her cheek. "I'm sorry."

Miorine slowly brushed back her hair again. Her fingers followed the line of Suletta's brow, slowly rubbing circles along her temple with her thumbs. Suletta practically melted in relief, her eyes fluttering closed, her tense shoulders slacking. They kept this up for a moment, but Miorine had to reach up so high that eventually her arms wavered.

"So frustratingly tall," she mumbled.

Nika, feeling a little awkward to just be standing there, scratched at her cheek. She turned around, locked eyes with Aliya, who up until now was just staring at some interesting corner of the ceiling. "We should go," she mouthed out.

"Totally." Nika agreed in a hurry before turning towards Miorine. "We'll grab some medicine and drop it off here, okay?"

"Thank you," Miorine said lightly, already motioning for Suletta to lay down on the couch. "That'd be great."

The last thing they saw was Miorine pulling Suletta's head onto her lap, whispering something featherlight and soft while she rubbed away the pain, their hands threading together.

It made Nika think that maybe Miorine did know the words, after all.

--

It doesn't take long for them to realize that Miorine was most comfortable expressing anything she ever felt by getting angry. That included worry, and that might have even included care. So they (at least most of them, excluding Chuchu) tried to be understanding when Miorine spent most of the day short-tempered and aggravated, tried to take the loud and angry typing in their common room in stride.

"I almost feel bad for her," Chuchu grumbled, leaning forward on the table with her elbows and looking towards Nika. "It's just a flu. Suletta's going to be fine. Why do I feel like Miorine isn't?"

"That's probably because we banned her from staying inside the room too long," Nika said with a sigh.

"Makes no sense to me." Chuchu rubbed at her temples, leaning against her chair until it tipped dangerously back on its hind legs. "What good would it do if both of them got sick?"

"She's just worried." Nika paused contemplatively. "I wonder when the last time she worried about someone this much was."

There was a rare glint of empathy in Chuchu's eyes, and Nika knew that somehow, she understood.

Then Miorine stood up, snapped her laptop shut, and pushed her chair back so forcefully the sound of it scraping against the floor was enough to make the farm animals unsettled.

"Miorine-san!" To everyone surprise, it was Lilique who had set her food down, hands on hips, and stood in front of Suletta's door. "You need to let her rest."

"I just want to make sure she's finished her food."

"It's only been a little while, you can check on her again later on, okay?"

"She might be hurting."

"Miorine-san..."

Miorine grabbed at her arm, her body language visibly anxious but much less angry now. They couldn't see Miorine's expression from where they were seated, but Lilique could, and her face, for a moment, had a shadow of surprise before settling into something soft and mellow. She stepped closer in empathy, a friendly hand on Miorine's slight shoulder.

"Okay." Lilique sighed in defeat. "Just for a little bit."

--

In just two short days, Suletta had recovered completely.

Not a day later, Miorine started sneezing.

--

"Miorine-san?" Nika looked into her office, Chuchu trailing right behind her. She was excited. Things were exciting! She always loved this feeling, the rush of accomplishment whenever a project finally reached an acceptable point of completion by her standards, when it was ready for the client to see. The springs were balanced perfectly, the joints  were sturdy and snapped into place once the device was released and triggered. It was lightweight, easy to deploy, and purely mechanical so it didn't need to be powered. "I finally—oh?"

"Oh, they're at it again." Chuchu deadpanned, used to it at this point.

Miorine was trying to wrestle her noodles out of Suletta's hands, pitifully out of her reach. Suletta actually didn't look scared of her for a change, instead sporting a look of determination as she yet again reminded Miorine of the importance of actually eating healthy things for a change.

"That's cheating!" Miorine barked, but there was no venom in her voice, no strain of actual anger. If anything, it almost looked like she had the ghost of a smile—maybe she didn't even realize it. It happened a lot around Suletta.

"I-It's not!" Suletta squeaked. "It's called a natural advantage! Please, Miorine-san, I thought you liked stew!"

"Hey!" Chuchu yelled, crossing her arms. "Why do you two even bother with this? You always give in to Suletta anway—"

Miorine turned, eagle-eyed, and saw the slim package in Nika's hands. "Um." Nika swallowed. "It's... done?"

And then she honest to goodness dashed—and tripped a little, and nearly fell—grabbing the box out of Nika's hand and startling Suletta into a confused daze.

"Wuh?"

Miorine threw the box onto the floor, right at Suletta's legs. In a wonderfully smooth motion, it released the locks on the springs and fully extended itself upwards. It all happened so fast, Suletta had no time to react, and soon Miorine had ran back up towards her and stepped on the platform, drawing herself right up to Suletta's full height. Miorine grinned, "Gotcha!"

Nika, who had been stunned into silence, broke out into a laugh. An honest, full-bellied laugh. She couldn't believe it! Of course this is what Miorine needed something so particular for!

"What's going on in here?" Aliya and Till appeared from behind the door.

"M-Miorine-san!" Suletta whined, beset by sudden panic at her sudden disadvantage. She couldn't step back to avoid Miorine's attempts to steal back what was rightfully hers. Suletta had let herself get pushed back against a wall. "That's cheating!"

"It's called a tactical advantage!" Miorine tip-toed, motioning to grab the noodles that were now almost within reach. Almost! Suletta still had longer arms, despite them now standing on equal footing, but all Miorine needed was to push herself a little more, just the tiniest bit more, and—

A 'little more' turned out to be too much. 

She lost her balance, and was about completely fall over if not for Suletta's free arm coming to wrap around her waist, keeping her steady on her over-engineered stepping stool.

"Careful, Miorine-san!"

"I—"

"Oho." Aliya blinked, eyebrows shooting upwards and before locking eyes with Nika.

Miorine, who for the first time was now at eye-level with Suletta, had braced herself against the wall with one hand beside Suletta's head, and looked like she just lost all her ability to function.

"Miorine... san?"

"Suletta—"

Miorine’s expression, unreadable at first, had slowly turned into one of the most genuine displays of wonder Nika had ever seen in her life. Her brows furrowed a little, her mouth opening and closing uselessly, her eyes transfixed on Suletta's. For the first time, the very first time, it looked like Miorine Rembran didn't know what to say.

"A-are you okay?" Suletta started fussing over her, visibly burning up under the intensity of Miorine's gaze.

Miorine didn't look that much better though. A flush rapidly crept from her neck up to her ears, which were now uncharacteristically red.

"Suletta." She muttered again, a little softly, like it was the only word she knew.

(Aliya covered Chuchu's eyes, Till had turned around, and Nika decided it was time to find the way out the door as fast as possible.)

"Your eyes... are beautiful."

-

fin

-

A/N:

Hello!! I love them I have been so fixated so please have some fluff thank you Thank you to @nosiidam for beta reading this!! I love you!! ^_^

[occasionallycoinpin]

i need to know what that storyline for oc 110 was

i’ll be honest, i started writing it down, got distracted by other things, and then completely forgot about it until now

so i guess i’ll dump what i have right now, and finish it up later

occasionally coinpin 155

(collapsed for length)

(this is an m&l dream team riff so there’s a good amount of similarities bit whatev)

Premise:

Many years after the competitions end, a miraculous discovery! Leafy, while going through old messages to delete to save memory, finds an odd, unopened email from January 1st, 2012. As it turns out, Dream Island wasn’t destroyed all those years ago! It was simply relocated to a new part of the ocean, the robotic staff waiting ever so patiently for their new owner to claim her island. Leafy, ever the kind soul, invites everyone to Dream Island for a wonderful vacation!

As the BFDI crew will soon come to find out, there is a very literal reason the island is named DREAM Island.

The Arrival:

The charter ship arrives at the island rather precariously, so much so that Pin, observing the docking with her friends, falls off the ship and has her point stuck in the ground. While the robotic servants assist her, Coiny and the others must head along for the introduction tour.

Rather predictably, Coiny and Firey start feuding about something or other, which begins the first boss fight: Metal Firey (they had him eat a yoyleberry earlier to not burn down the ship).

- A tutorial fight for the basic mechanics, very simple as the only move Coiny has available is Jump.

- Done in a few hits + counterattacks.

The delay caused by the fight allows Pin to catch up with everyone else, and the welcoming festivities continue.

After a bit of exploring the Dreamscape Hotel, Coiny and Pin stumble upon a door which a robotic servant says simply leads to the basement. And indeed it does! Though the servant neglected to mention that there weren’t actually any stairs down, and the door simply led to an open chasm that the duo fall into. Time to find a way out.

The Discovery:

The basement is filled with crud you’d expect to see in a basement, as well as some basic enemies. The duo find the Hammers down here, an essential tool. As they descend further the basement starts looking less basement-like and starts looking more temple-like: the Dreamscape Hotel was built on top of the ruins of an ancient temple.

Deep in the temple, they find a wall mural of an ancient civilization seeking salvation in a figure that bears an awfully unsettling resemblance to Pin. But before the duo can dwell on this any longer, two Stone Pin statues come to life and attack!

- An exam fight for both using two characters at once as well as using the Hammers.

- The Stone Pins can only be Hammered at first, but if properly countered they will fall on their backs, allowing Jumps that deal critical hits.

After the fight, who else shows up but Golf Ball, immediately berating the duo for destroying such priceless archeological artifacts. She’s down here as she’s set up a Lab in the basement (because of course she did) and wanted to see what all the noise was about. The duo follow her back to the Lab.

The Dream World:

A small crowd has gathered in the Lab, curious as to what the ruckus was about. GB takes this opportunity to go into a lecture about a new phenomenon she’s discovered on the island: certain spots emanate a strange energy, one that she is currently researching located right in the middle of the Lab. Pin, not really paying attention, investigates the spot and nearly immediately passes out. GB, taking this as an insult to her lecture, goes on another rant, completely distracting her from the fact a portal has opened over the sleeping Pin.

Everyone in the crowd is surprised by this development, except for Pillow, who was seemingly expecting it. She hurriedly grabs Needle and jumps into the portal. Coiny, not one to stand by while his friend gets kidnapped, hurries in after them.

Coiny finds himself in Dreamy Dreamscape Hotel and soon meets up with Dreamy Pin, the embodiment of Pin’s mental self image. In battle, Dreamy Pin will augment Coiny, boosting his stats and enhancing his Jump and Hammer. After some exploration, the duo find Pillow and the now unconscious Needle, and a boss fight against Pillow begins.

- Pillow starts the fight by summoning a legion of False Dreamy Pins to surround her, which can both attack independently and assist Pillow with her own attacks.

- Partway through the fight, Pillow steals Coiny’s Hammer and disguises herself and the False Dreamy Pins as False Dreamy Coinys. She then proceeds to shuffle herself into the crowd, and the player must keep track of which one is Pillow. Jumping on the right one removes the disguises and returns the Hammer, while Jumping on a wrong one reveals it as a False Dreamy Pin and deals damage.

- After taking enough damage, Pillow flees the fight.

The Disaster:

Despite the fight, Pillow has enough energy left to enact her plan: she stabs Needle into the ground, creating a crack that spews a strange energy. Outside, in the Real World, the portal begins emitting this energy. Strange, dark crystals begin growing on some of the robotic servants, as well as a good amount of the BFDI crew, all throughout the island.

After the energy clears, Pillow takes Needle down into the hole she created, which closes up after them. Coiny and Dreamy Pin are dumbfounded, and, after breaking some of the dark crystal blocking the way, have no choice but to return to the Real World to reassess.

When Coiny returns out of the portal, and Pin awakens, GB can’t help but start asking a million questions about what had just happened. After one of the strange crystals formed in the Lab, GB attempted to harvest it to no avail before it mysteriously evaporated. After the duo fill her in, she deduces that the crystals must exist in the Real and Dream Worlds simultaneously, and while it is indestructible in the Real World, it is possible to break while in the Dream World. GB dubs this material Crystalized Somnolescent Energy, whereas Coiny purports the much more popular name Nightmarium.

Various objects start rushing into the Hotel, saying that more crystals are around and that anyone afflicted by them has fallen into a coma. By now, the duo’s mission is two-fold: find out where Pillow disappeared to, and destroy all of the Nightmarium that has grown across the island. While GB needs to stay in her Lab to perform more research, she produces the GB-Drone: a miniature drone that allows GB to communicate with the duo while they’re out and about. The duo set out to the closest location to the Hotel: the Fantasy Fairgrounds.

and that’s all i’ve got for now. if people seem to like this i’ll present more of the story in this fashion, and if not i’ll just dump the rest when it’s completely finished

[theheartofone]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: One

Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter One: What Happens When a Swordsman Meets a Swordsmith? 

GIF by gildedmuse

Behind the Wall

Zoro notes that the trek up into the forest with Gramps is oddly silent, as his boots clumsily crush against the leafy meadow. Between the two, no words of small talk are being shared or expressed – which is surprising and also a breath of fresh air to Zoro, since it seems he can’t get away from people who love to yap. 

He was also secretly thankful that he was being guided to the swordsmith rather than having to put his listening comprehension skills to the test, with how – and he wholeheartedly believes this - villagers always give him the most confusing roundabout directions (really, it’s just them telling him to turn left). 

So, as he lags behind the dagger-swinging Gramps, he realises that this has been the first time in months that he’s felt at peace without having to sleep for it. 

After what seems like an hour of silent ambling, Gramps looks behind himself at the samurai and childishly beams. 

“We’re almost there, celery-boy.”

“Gotcha, dusty puffball,” Zoro retorts.

“I must warn you… you should be prepared for the swordsmith. She does not like to sugar-coat things.” 

Zoro remains silent; at first, he mulls over his words before deciding to shrug it off. It’s not like any of the swordsmiths he’s met are legendary, so really, why would her opinion matter?

As they near a mountainous cliffy terrain, Gramps stands ahead of a narrow gap between two rumbling boulders. His hands deftly stroke across a specific gap with obnoxious hand movements, which Zoro thinks he’s undoubtedly making up on the spot. Still, as the old man moves away from the caress, the rocks begin to shuffle and grumble lowly. The boulders twist and turn, jagged and crumbling, into forming an irregular cave-like hole. 

When the cave stops echoing its aroused yawn against its walls, the merchant turns around to stick his tongue at Zoro.

“You thought I was an insane old senile for a second, didn’t you?” 

Slowly, Zoro’s ears turn red.

“You did, didn’t you? You followed me here because you felt bad for me, didn’t you?” 

“Leave it alone,” Zoro sighs, feeling the heat continue to rush over the rest of his face. 

He quickly shuffles through the entrance before he can give the geezer another chance to holler at his idiocy. It didn’t stop the dusty puffball, though – as they both continue their journey within the dimly lit cave, Zoro can hear the old cackles that echoed off the jagged walls.

“Wait until you meet her, you’ll be lit up in flames!” He giggles deviously, pleased with his successful torment with the bull-head.

“I don’t give a shit about what anyone thinks,” Zoro mutters, remaining tight-lipped for the rest of the journey. 

Over the Wall

“Go find a transponder snail right bloody now - I’m not dealing with him,” you hiss at your Gramps, who stares at you almost as dumbly as the green sword wielder standing beside him.

“What are you talking about?” Gramps Suki splutters, acting oblivious as he’s always been with you. “Give him a chance, he’s a good kid!”

“No,” you hiss, ignoring the green-head standing stoically in front of your anvil, putting your palm up at Gramps. “Call the Navy Protection Services right now, he’s a disgrace to his swords.”

“Do you want a fight with me, woman?!” The idiot swordsman yells, clawing clumsily for the weapons at his hip.

Unprovoked, you hit him with a deadpan look to the side. God, how many careless swordsmen have you dealt with who all act the bloody same?

“That’s brave, asking to fight the one person who knows how to make and break a blade.” 

In an instant, green-head starts shouting out a string of insults like a moron. 

Although small and frail in appearance, you know Gramps Suki is more than what he chooses to show to people. In a swift manoeuvre, his knobbly hands grip the guy by the collar, making the samurai look like a wretched cat dragged by its neck.

“Get your hands off me, dumbass!” The swordsman chokes, squirming and struggling against the strength of your Gramps. Ignoring him entirely, Gramps stares at you with bewilderment and slight humour.

“What?” You ask him, casually heading to the back of the room to wash your hands. 

“We aren’t pro-Navy, Raya, or have you hit your head on the anvil again?”

“You’ve hit your head on the anvil before?” A gruff voice snickers in Gramps’ vice grip, making you grit your teeth hard.

“Someone needs to call child protection services on those poor swords,” you loudly announce, shutting the green-head up from his evil grin. 

You turn around to rest against the sink, drying your hands with a blackened rag. 

“I can quite literally feel how broken they are in their sheaths, and I’m stood all the way here. Don’t you respect your blades, Mr. Samurai, or do you like to use them as big tooth-picks instead?”

And the dude, still squirming a few centimetres in the air, absolutely loses it. You can’t help but crack a laugh over how furious he’s getting as he begins to continue with his insults. You swear you hear him call you an anvil-indented-head in his string of lovely compliments.

Even Gramps can’t help but guffaw at the entire interaction between you two, completely folding over in on himself. Although still holding onto the green-head’s shirt in an abnormally strong grasp, he heartily laughs on, as if he’s holding a cloth in the air.  

Tsk. Maybe Gramps really is going senile - you think, while you dust off your blackened hammer. Out of any person in the world, you didn’t know why Sukiyaki decided to bring in this idea of a swordsman as a potential client.

You and Gramps have only worked for the best and scarcely have any, if at all, clients – simply because, for you and Gramps, swordsmithing is incredibly dangerous and quite literally life-threatening. Your whole cover can be blown up in an instant if the wrong person fucks around and finds out who you both are.

As underground swordsmiths, you intentionally work away from the hubbub of the central market to gain only the attention of the right clients. To you, this cabbage patch of a man shows absolutely no promise, evidence, or indication of worthiness to bear your craftsmanship by his side. 

This dude comes in with a crumbling sword, the sword who’s barely holding herself together in the shambled state she’s in, as well as bearing two other wobbly blades on his hip. The first time you sensed their three auras, as he and Gramps made their way towards you, your whole stomach dropped. 

Of course, you see broken swords all the time; in your profession, it’s called for – but the way that the green-head’s metals were humming – no, moaning - made you want to writhe in your own skin. You’ve never heard this level of sadness before. It completely pained you to know what the blades were thinking.  

How unfeeling he is to the forces who defend his life, time and time again. Frankly, it’s insulting. 

“Who do you think you are, anvil-head? You’re just the village’s swordsmith - a nobody,” the guy spits out, wholly absorbed in his anger. He finally manages to push himself away from Gramps’ hands and land on his feet.

“Oh, God.. not again,” Gramps mutters, shaking his head in mild displeasure. He knows what’s about to happen.

Your hands pause in the middle of buffing your hammer. 

A nobody, huh?

Your fingertips grow warm. You gaze up at the man – the first time you’ve actually acknowledged him with a look - who’s now stomping towards you, his hands balled in fists. 

As you shake your head, you feel tendrils of smoke and heat frame around your face. What a bull-head. 

“Fix my swords, woman,” he demands through gritted teeth, standing between you and your workbench. 

You sigh, unimpressed, staring straight into his eye. 

“It can’t be done.”

“Are you telling me you’re so unskilled that you can’t mend my swords?”

A smile unfurls across your lips, fire emanating from your fingertips and across the stray curls of your hair. 

You shake your head. 

“No, I’m telling you that I'm melting them. Look down.”

Gramps Suki and Bull-Head slowly tilt their vision to the floor, plainly staring at the liquid metal dripping out of all three of his sheaths. 

[civilotterneer]

Civ Plays: Baldur's Gate 3

Quick as a flash, I strummed away at the lute and focused the magic into a melody of tribute to the vines. A moment later, Entangle was casted, sending a variety of vines forward from my outstretched hand and across the floor.

The vines snaked across the ground and wrapped around the two archers. Luckily, archers don't have good strength saving throws, and they both failed, the vines wrapping around them and implanting themselves into the ground.

"Looks like you guys aren't going anywhere!"

They struggled in their leafy restraints, giving me time to cast Shillelagh again on my lute. Durge quickly dispatched the large bear man, and we both turned towards the last two archers.

Their turns came and went, and luckily for us, they both failed to break free.

In a moment, me and Durge came down on the last two archers, a large greatsword slicing down one and the ring of a slamming lute knocking the other over. With one last ring of the lute, combat came to an end.

I breathed heavily, as I realized I was still low on health, with a rather large wound in my shoulder. I walked over and sat down to lean on the wall, as Durge came over with me.

"That looks rather bad, are you gonna be okay" asked Durge as he leaned down to me.

"Yeah, should be, though I'm not gonna be in good shape unless I have some healing. And I'm down to one spell slot," I responded.

"Here."

Durge reached around and grabbed his backpack, pulling it off and sifting through it. A moment later, a small red bottle and some rags came out. Rubbing around the wound with the rag hurt a bit, but cleaned up some of the blood around it. Again, I felt surpsied that the pain sensation was so real, but it still felt less than I expected at least

Dang people and their requirement for 'realism' in games. This is a bit much.

He popped the cork off with his claw and a moment later poured it over the wound, with a surprising amount of care.

"Uh, that's not typically how a healing potions works..." I started.

But to my surprise, the wound healed and I regained a good amount of HP.

"But I guess that works!"

For a moment, I looked up to the white dragonborn. His eyes glowed in the darkness, and for a moment, I found myself in a very different place. No more dungeon, no more dead people, no more wound, just the entrancing eyes of this dragon man. This...very...hot...dragon man......

In a start, I stood up, Durge leaning away with a snarky smile on his face.

"Well, thank you, my friend!" I tried to say, looking away from him slightly embarrassingly, "Shall we....uh...continue further then? We probably have another fight in us."

As I got up, I saw Durge throw the bloody rag to the corner of the dungeon, and as we continued on, he lagged behind me slightly. For a moment, I swore he licked his fingers of my blood that had gotten on them, but a moment later, he rubbed back his hand back over his draconic head spines.

Maybe I'm just seeing things...

<<Last Page - Page 12 - Next Page>>

[screamintoad]

TWST oc Agate Fang

“I would watch where you’re going. Go too far or you’ll be drowned.”

Voice claim: Rin-Fruits Basket

Character info

  Agate has a habit of intimidating new people due to her stature but if you were to talk to her you would realize she’s actually very reserved and timid. In her first year it was common for Savanaclaw students to get into fights with her, it was a solid 80% win rate for Agate. It was almost a game to the rowdy students to see who could win in a fight against her.

  Growing up in the harsh environment of the deep sea left Agate’s childhood filled with scares. Lack of food, no stable home, and her father constantly moving in and out of her life. Her mother wasn’t the most motherly either, it’s everyone for themselves down in the deep. Being half fae and half merfolk gave her a huge sense of curiosity but, growing up in the deepest part of the ocean caused her to be wary of new things. One day when she was young, she swam up to where she could actually feel the sun’s rays through the water. For the first time in her life, she felt warmth. In her amazement she failed to notice a pair of eel merfolk watching her until one barreled into her. They spun her around and proclaimed they wanted to play with “The Great Dragon of the Depths!” Whatever that entailed. These twins had fun with her for she was the first kid their age to be faster and bigger and stronger than them. Later on, the tweels introduced her to Azul and the group have been quite the close quartet since.

Fun facts: She works as a bouncer/bodyguard at Monstro Lounge. Because of her strong digestive system, she has the bad? Good? Habit of drinking any potions. Being on the Spelldrive team gives her a good way to let loose all of her pent up energy. Her markings intensity while glowing indicate the emotion she’s feeling, dim is bashfulness or happiness whereas bright indicate embarrassment or anger/frustration.

Basic info

Age: 17

Height: 189cm, 6’2. Merform length: 40ft

B-day: April 1st (Aries)

Dominant hand: Right

Family: Unnamed mother and father

Nicknames: Madame dragon de mer (Rook), Leafy (Floyd)

2nd year

Class C

Club: Spelldrive club

Best subject: P.E

Hobbies: Collecting shiny things

Pet peeve: Her own insecurities 

Favorite food: Ice. She chews ice

Least favorite food: Anything pickled

Talent: Putting anything to good use

Unique magic: One with the Sea

She can turn invisible in water. The body of water needs to be at least up to her knees for the spell to work

Character dynamics

Azul: Despite knowing each other for so long, they tend to bicker a lot. Agate doesn’t agree to his shady methods with his contracts which is the main topic of arguments. But, she still sees him as family and will make sure he takes a break. Yes, she has thrown him before. Yes, she will do it again.

Jade: Mushroom man. No, seriously, if he thinks a mushroom is poisonous he’ll have her bite it to check. Worst thing that’ll happen is she’ll vomit it back up. Jade is the twin that she winds down with. They regularly have self care nights where they’ll drink whatever tea that Jade previously made and chat about both student life and their families.

Floyd: On the verge of biting him. Agate won’t say she’s particularly closer with either twin but she’s definitely closer to Floyd. They roughhouse almost daily and it actually helps them get any pent up energy out. It also helps if either of them have been stressed recently because they’ll yell vent to each other while doing so. She tends to humor him whenever his mood randomly switches, matching her energy accordingly.

Vil: She’s looked up to him ever since she came to land and learned about fashion. She takes notes on his lectures because she wants to appear more confident and not as scary.

Ruggie: They met when he failed to try and steal her snack. This went on for a few months, of them taking turns trying to steal from the other. Eventually they started talking and figured out that there’s always a rough place somewhere. Both on land and in the sea.