#and while trying to recover our ground from that we stopped being able to afford food and our backup plan maker got sick

[lunarflare64]

Y'all ever miss food? And eating? We miss it. Not sure how long thats gonna last, our feeling-hunger cut-off happens very early on. Going back to eating normally when we can afford food again is gonna be rough

[ravenwooduk]

Week 3: Ravenwood Long-Pigs vs Florida Men

Pluck just ‘ain’t enough!

In the pre-match briefing the coaching staff used the predictions from Goblin Gambling as a motivational tool to inspire the Long-Pigs players. “We are facing a solid, if a bit scaly outfit in the Florida Lizardmen, on paper they are bigger and stronger than us, with thicker armour and a big guy with sharp teeth but we have a slight numerical advantage and the edge on pace. We will have to bring our skills from the practice field to bear if we are to cause an upset here. Our secret weapon for this game is unconventional catcher Tomas Hawken, he loves getting stuck in to contact and is and the pace and mentality to take on any on the Florida Roster.”

Having re-worked defensive formations special for the game and signed Blitzer Dolph Xandersson the night before the game to add a little bulk the the lightweight human team, the Long-Pigs were delighted to win the toss and elected to kick off.

Halfling Tin Pot Buffet-Runner kicked the ball deep, behind a formidable line of greater lizards. After some aggressive blocking by the Sauri, two humans were down with Ivan ‘sick note’ Schulz pushed around and only upright because of his intense contact training on the blocking sled. The ball was recovered neatly and a lightweight cage formed behind the scales screen.

Rather than engage the wall of scales head on, a brace of players swept round either flank of the wall to harrass the lighter Skink and Chameleon Players and force them to fight or flee. Gaspedal worked his way in to cover the ball carrier while Hawken and Rache dropped back so as not to be out paced should the skinks break from their protective screen. A few blocks were thrown but only where the odds favoured the home team.

One of the caging skinks fell to injury but Gaspedal’s threat was neutralised by star saurus Frox and the cage reformed to the visitors left, this time with Sauri and Kroxigor forming the pillars. Bold skink sss cut up the open channel and into scoring range, with thrower Rache in hot pursuit.

The saurus blocker duo Zitz and Learherhead, standing shoulder to shoulder presented quite a puzzle for the Long-Pigs blitzers. They had been isolated from the cage which weakened it considerably, but the humans could not afford to commit three players per saurus as they needed to prevent the ball advancing upfield and stop any scoring threats. Gaspedal continued to threaten, being knocked down time and again for his trouble and Rache embarked on a personal quest to beat Chupathingy into the ground. The with minor casualties on both side, stalemate was broken when a brutal blow from Long-Pigs captain Kurgan von Bismarck sent Leatherhead off the field for treatment freeing up enough manpower to surround the cage and take the ball. Sensing the inevitable onslaught, Chupathingy dodged into the end zone and chameleon Gibbles darted free to close the gap and pass for the score.

The roar of the home crowd and the mountain breeze conspired to spoil the pass which drifted in field in front of Rache. With receivers able to take the ball out of reach of all Florida players and no one to interfere with a go ahead end to end touchdown in front of the home fans, Rache fumbled the pickup, the first of several handling errors from the Long-Pigs thrower. A block later saw Rache knocked back and the chameleon recovering the ball and passing to open the Florida account 0:1 at the second attempt.

The Bloodweiser-infused recovery buffet saw all the home players available to play while the Lizardmen were fielding a reduced team. Having squandered the chance to take the lead, it was important for the Long-Pigs to get on the scoreboard while trying to reduce the effectiveness of the Florida Men for the second half. The humans went about flattening the three-man front line while sending three receivers down field, the two extra players were held back to protect Rache (or protect the ball)

The Lizards responded by knocking out Beck and flanking the other two receivers to counter the scoring threat. With some solid blocking and a big hit from Hawken to remove the coverage for top scorer Johan Blitzen who gathered the long pass and sped over the line with time left for either team to score again. 1:1

Another restart although this time one more of the skinks had recovered, reducing the deficit. The Long-Pigs used the same defensive formation that had served them so well earlier in the half and the Lizards set up a front-heavy strategy to drive forward immediately.

Baron Shadenfreude’s kick fell short and the instinctive chameleons reacted while the ball was in the air, immediately scampering across the backfield to hand the ball to the swifter skink Chupathingy who burst forward behind a blitzing saurus.

Not wanting to leave anything to chance, the home side prepared a counter attack and surrounded the ball carrier before big hitting Rufus Zerg-Jaegar smashed the skink from his feet and into the apothecaries tent. The ball bouncing neatly to Tin Pot, ready to spearhead the counter attack.

Seeking revenge for the loss of Chupathingy, Karma and Frox combined to hit the poor halfling so hard that it split his trademark helmet in half ending his short life with the ball bouncing to Karma. Simultaneously the front line exploded knocking out another halfling and Kroxigor Spikeyboi seriously injuring von Bismarck. Unable to regain the lead, the lizards closed in on every available opposing player.

Flying back from his advanced position, Amadeus Beck and Zwerg-Jaeger put Frox down to open a line for Tomas Hawken to blast Karma from his feet with the ball bobbling in field. As the half came to a close, Rache had to evade the two Sauri flanking him, gather the ball and launch a pass to one of the receiver, he fell at the first hurdle and the half finished 1:1.

The second half saw the humans empty the bench with all available players taking the field against a depleted seven lizardmen. The ball was kicked deep and some timekeeping anomaly reduced the second half game time. After some tame blocking, Blitzen made a move forwards with Rache and Hawken dropping back but again fumbling the ball. The visitors dropped into a zone defence with one saurus advancing to sack Rache.

With Gaspedal free and Blitzen in scoring range, Rache gathered the ball at the second attempt and traversed the field, only to miss throw the pass which flew out of his hand and handed behind him, close to the Long-Pigs goal line leaving the rest of the team flat footed and dangerously close to their scaly opposition.

The covering saurus closed on the ball with chameleons Karma and Gibbles breaking from coverage to advance on the ball while the remaining players hit their nearest opposition player, knocking several down and injuring Stefan Gunderson. Beck and Hawken combined to relieve the pressure on the ball and Rache barely managed to evade the incoming players to recover the ball and position himself deep with dump off options either side. A sea of scales descended, knocking Rache to his back (not before he flicked the ball to Tomas Hawken) and surrounding ball carrier and nearby support players.

Some agility from Shadenfreude and Beck set up Dolph Xandersson to clear a way for Hawken to dodge free and take the ball out of range of the lizards, but he stumbled leaving the ball on the floor and stunning himself on the Astrogranite. The Sauri cleared Dolph of the ball and Karma scooped up the ball to take the lead 2:1.

With time against them, the Long-Pigs set up to try and score quickly to draw level and to hope for a miracle in order to win. Tying up potential defenders with Rache passing early to Blitzen who cut upfield to assist with a block taking the ball into an advanced position. The Kroxigor cut a gap for Zits to plant a bell-ringing sack on Blitzen whose last action before being taken off the field was to lay the ball down out of easy reach of any of the defending players. Rache gathered the ball and handed it to Amadeus Beck who ran clear to bring the game back level at 2:2.

Almost all knocked out players recovered on both sides as everyone wanted to make the difference between winning and losing. The Long-Pigs split their team with some angling to deny the Florida team any scoring opportunity and others hoping to recover the onside kick.

The Florida Men wanted it more and burst forward as the ball was kicked with the kroxigor and sauri arcing round to screen block the defenders and create a running channel for Gibbles, the intended scorer, Karma secured the ball but the effort of closing the gap to pass meant the ball did not reach its intended receiver.

With no time left to score and the only opposing player in scoring range Spikeyboi the Kroxigor, Baron Shadenfreude called the players in and with several assists, the angry halfling pitched the crocodilian beast into the crowd.

Despite beating the spread to earn a draw against a stronger team, the Long-Pigs players were disappointed not to win. The hope is that the fans will not turn on Rache who was nominated man of the match, it is hoped that this will boost his confidence for future games.

With the captain out for the next week, the debate has begun for who should replace him in week four. The Baron has been vocal in pushing his own candidacy but it is more likely to be Anders Gaspedal, cool in contact and willing to put himself on the line, rookie thrower Rache has some of the attributes required, but he probably needs to focus on his own performance.

RIP Tinpot Buffet Runner

Video by Grumpy Gorg

[court-of-forever-undone]

My Sister’s Love | Taryn POV

Chapter Three

Summary: Taryn pieces together her memories of Cardan and Jude’s early interactions as she reflects on how their relationship came to be and the events of the last year. As happy as she is for them, she can’t help but feel jealous of the moments they share.

Tags: Taryn’s POV of Jude x Cardan, Final Part

Read on AO3

After that dinner, we found Jude awake in her old rooms sitting with Tatterfell and Oak. For a moment, it was easy to pretend nothing had happened. She wore one of the black gowns she favored since becoming seneschal and was eating from a tray in front of her. But as she turned to face us, the wince she failed to hide and the paleness of her skin were reminders that she had nearly died just days ago. Her hair had been braided to mimic a crown, which was another reminder that my sister was not the same twin I had known.

Before we had a chance to talk, Cardan appeared. He likely came straight from his rooms, after finding them empty. Every fiber of my being wanted to grab Jude’s arm when Cardan asked her to join him, but I saw the dusting of pink spread across her cheeks as she saw him in the doorway, so I stood there silently. Jude would have probably ignored any word of caution coming from me anyways. We still had yet to fully come to terms with everything that happened between us.

When it had been hours and Jude had yet to return, I went to the royal chambers to see if she had gone straight there, but instead, I found Garrett.

While Jude had at least recovered some from her near-death experience, Garrett looked like the ghost of the beautiful sandy-haired boy I had met before. It might have been a funny observation given his code name, but all humor was lost in the moment. He had lost weight and his face had sunken in. When our eyes met, I saw the plea in them before he opened his mouth.

The next few hours were a blur. When Jude finally arrived at Hollow Hall, I was surprised to see she had allowed Cardan to come along. Cardan had proved he would follow my sister into the heart of an enemy war camp, despite better judgment, but this time Jude had chosen to invite him along with her.

After I commanded Garrett to stop, cursing myself for not thinking to do it earlier, we moved to a parlor room and I explained how we had come to know each other through Locke’s carelessness.

We discussed the events of what Garrett had done at Locke and Madoc’s command. It turned out that Garrett had been the one to shoot Queen Orglah. Even if he had been commanded to do it, Nicasia and the seafolk would see him as a traitor and demand that he be punished, which meant his life was entirely at the mercy of Jude and Cardan. I couldn’t help but see the resemblance to my own situation.

When Cardan made a comment about me lurking around the palace, I revealed that I had no intention of going anywhere until I knew that Jude would be safe. Our relationship may be strained, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t make up for my actions.

Cardan wore an expression that showed he was tired of this conversation. “Jude and I had a misunderstanding. But we’re not enemies. And I am not your enemy, either, Taryn.”

As a faerie, I knew he couldn’t lie, but that didn’t matter. Maybe he didn’t think of us as enemies, he could still think of us as toys.

“But you think everything’s a game. You and Locke.” His name tasted like ash in my mouth.

“Unlike Locke, I never thought love was a game. You may accuse me of much, but not that.” Cardan shared softly.

The air in the room shifted as Cardan's gaze fell upon Jude, who refused to even look in his direction before quickly changing the subject.

For the first time, it was not just me who was drawing a comparison between our loves. While Cardan’s words came out more as a confession to Jude than a taunt at me, the words still stung. Locke had thought love to be a game. But Cardan, the cruel, spoiled prince did not think love was a game.

How had I believed Locke was my future?

In the carriage back to the palace, Cardan broke the silence by asking about some of the things he had seen on his way to Vivi’s apartment. Most of his questions were about the dishwasher which had been running in the apartment, how mortal mailboxes worked, how secure they were in protecting incoming mail, and what slushies tasted like.

By the end of the ride, I couldn’t help but laugh at his questions which seemed so trivial given the circumstances we all found ourselves in. When we were alone I turned to Jude, who was barely awake on her feet.

“Do you trust him?” I asked. It was the question that had been gnawing at me since our return.

Jude thought for a moment before sighing. “Sometimes,” she responded.

It was enough to make me warn her. Did I think Cardan loved her? Yes. But was Cardan trustworthy? It was hard to forget the years of our childhood together that suggested otherwise and if Jude who had gotten to know him closer than any of the rest of us questioned it, then it was probably best not to.

I had been blinded by my love for Locke that I trusted him to take care of me. I didn’t want the same to happen to Jude, even if seeing them care for each other made my heart ache with envy.

____________________________________________________________

In the days leading up to Madoc’s arrival, all of Elfhame seemed to be on alert; waiting for something to happen. Whispers that bordered on treason could be heard on the grounds and it seemed that everyone had begun placing bets on the outcome of the meeting. It seemed that many of the Folk had questions around the legitimacy of a human queen and the chance the High King’s army stood against a Redcap led army.

Madoc would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Vivi, Jude, and I all knew that. I did not have to attend strategy meetings to know they were facing a serious threat.

Amidst the preparations for possible battle, the whole castle seemed to note the change in the High King and Queen’s dynamic. For one, their marriage was now common knowledge, but more than that there was a closeness between them that had never been there before.

At first, it was not-so-secret handholding and shared looks at mealtimes. Once at dinner, Cardan made a joke about the dangers of in-laws and Jude rolled her eyes before letting a real smile show.

Then, rumors began to spread that a servant had walked into the royal chambers to replace the bedding and apparently caught the two in a compromising position even though they were supposed to be in a war meeting.

I was doubtful when I first heard, but I even overheard some council members complaining about how they missed when the two bickered all meetings instead of ditching meetings to sneak off together.

The new development had only lasted a matter of days, so I hadn’t figured out if it stemmed from a need for distraction given the impending situation or if the two had formed a more intimate relationship since Jude’s return to health.

The look of devastation on Jude’s face after Cardan transformed suggested that whatever their relationship entailed, Jude had begun to share feelings for him that went beyond hate or tolerance.

When Cardan snapped the blood crown, the air turned stale and the ground hardened. I couldn’t tear my eyes off of Cardan, as his body seemed to melt and twist into the monstrous snake.

The ground shook as the snake moved through the room headed straight for the sword maker. By the time Grimsen was swallowed, I was being pushed deeper into the castle by the flow of the crowd desperate to get to safety. I only got a glimpse of the horror on Jude’s face before she was completely out of sight.

By the time I finally saw her later, I saw the tear stains on her cheeks and the exhaustion behind her eyes. I wondered if she was mourning Cardan or perhaps she was coming to terms with her own future. If Cardan could not be saved, Jude would likely not last long on the throne. The lower courts might seize the chance or the undersea would. That is if our father didn’t dethrone her first.

For the first time in months, I thought I might be able to understand her again. Like me, her husband gave her a level of security that was uncommon for a human in Faerie. While Jude may try to say her motivations for marrying Cardan were different from me marrying Locke, I don’t think they were. They were both motivated by power and protection.

I married Locke for protection in Elfhame. My position as his wife also gave me a degree of power I never had before. Jude married Cardan to become High Queen. She could have become the most powerful knight alive and still not have been afforded the same level of protection she has as Cardan’s queen. While we may have had different expectations for our marriages, both were strategic.

Madoc taught us that it is harder to hold onto power than it is to gain it. It is even harder to hold on when it is just you. Together, she and Cardan had a chance at maintaining the throne, but alone the chances were slim.

I may have lost almost every privilege I had as Locke’s wife, but Jude had a lot more to lose without Cardan; including her life.

In his absence, the happiness that Jude showed disappeared entirely. When she wasn’t in meetings, she could be found in the destroyed throne room and truly seemed to mourn him.

I recognized some of her pain, though her situation was different of course. I knew what it was like to feel the suffocating sense of loneliness. After all, I had gone months without hearing from my sisters or my parents, all while stuck in a relationship that was on tilted ground from the start.

I knew the pain of losing a partner. Locke died by my hand, but it did not stop the mixed emotions that came after. In the instant I decided to act, I lost any promise of a safe future in Elfhame.

We both knew what it was like to be humans in Faerieland; powerless to watch as the monsters closed in from all sides. In a land where the food, wine, a dance, and a simple conversation could be disastrous, only she and I could truly understand the deep fear that every day brought.

When the day came to bridle the snake, my sister looked magnificent, powerful even. She looked every bit the part of High Queen. But behind her cold, fierce look, I noted the inner turmoil that plagued her.

No one had any ideas on how to save the High King. Therefore, her future came down to if she would decide to wield the snake as a weapon or not. With the serpent, Jude would have had a chance to hold her position on the throne. Without Cardan, she would likely lose everything.

If power was the only thing she wanted, it would have been a simple choice. Jude would have found the snake and ruled as the murderous queen that some fae refer to her as, for as long as she could. She hesitated though. After she dressed in Mab’s armor, she paced back and forth while she chewed her bottom lip, as she does when she is nervous or thinking. She didn’t know what she was going to do.

It was that morning that it became obvious that my sister had loved Cardan back. It was more than lust or a political arrangement. They both could claim their marriage had been strategic, and it might have started that way, but there was love between them. A love that kept her from using Cardan as a weapon.

They played their games and hurt one another, but when the other was in danger they shared the same look of desperate determination to save them. The look on Jude’s face was the same as Cardan’s when he came to Vivi’s apartment; desperate, sad, and determined.

____________________________________________________________

When Jude returned with a naked, bloody, Cardan I could not believe it. The impossible had happened.

Within a matter of hours, the palace managed to throw a feast in honor of the High King returning. I dressed quickly and made my way to join in the celebration with my siblings and Heather. Tatterfell told us that Jude would join us shortly.

At the height of the party, I spotted a familiar face trying to keep out of sight near the edge of the room. I left my spot near the musicians table and made my way towards him.

“Hello Garrett,” I said as I stopped next to him, taking in the room from his angle. Vivi, Heather, and Oak were still eating at one of the long tables. The crowd parted suddenly, so it was easy to spot Jude and Cardan as they made their way to the dancefloor.

“Taryn,” he replied with a smile.

Neither of us spoke for a moment as the kitchen servants brought out more desserts with a level of fanfare that matched the king that was being celebrated.

“Are you on king and queen duty this evening?” I asked with a nod to the direction of the dance floor.

Garrett shook his head and laughed, “Technically, I am always responsible for their safety, but I sense that the king and queen don’t wish to be followed.”

I looked back only to notice Cardan leading Jude behind the dais and out of sight.

“Then, perhaps you would like to dance?” The words slipped out before I could reason why it was a silly idea. Before I could regret my words, he offered a soft smile before extending his hand.

I let him sweep me onto the dance floor, trusting him to stop me before my feet wear out. I don’t know if it was the way his face lit up when he laughed, or because he is a member of my sister’s court of spies, or because I could command him at any time (not that I ever intend on using his name), but as we twirled and laughed together, I felt safe.

The feeling was a bit ridiculous. My future was still entirely unknown. I had a baby growing inside me, still needed to stand trial, and had no way to support myself.

Technically, both Garrett and I had committed crimes punishable by death, but at least for the evening, I was happy to share the space with him.

We stayed on the dance floor together until the sun streaked in through the windows.

____________________________________________________________

On the day of the tribunal, I could not help but tremble slightly. Cardan’s promise floated in my head, but I would never fully believe it until I was officially declared innocent. I could not believe that Jude would punish me too harshly. After all, she hated Locke for what he did, so I couldn’t imagine she was upset by my actions. At the same time, she also hated me for what I did, so it was hard to guess her thoughts.

I took my time getting ready until it was finally time to make my way to the throne room. I quietly entered and found my spot in the crowd before glancing up at the dais.

Together they sat. Two enemies who had somehow fallen in love. They had risen together through everything that had happened.

Jude made Cardan into a respectable king and Cardan made Jude queen so no one could overlook her power again.

Cardan invited me forward and in a clear voice, he granted me everything he promised. I was innocent and my child and I would inherit Locke’s titles.

I walked back to my seat and felt the weight of the last few months fall off of my shoulders.

With the ruling, I let myself imagine my future; something I had not done since the night I drove the letter opener plunge into Locke’s neck.

I had made regrettable choices in the past, but I had been given a fresh start.

I had hated the way my sisters had loving relationships, but now it was what I hope to find for myself.

I want a love that is more than security or protection or fun. I want to be with someone who encourages me to be more.

I am not in a rush to find love again. I have my child to raise, my relationships to repair, but if my sister’s love taught me anything, it is that love can happen in the most unlikely of places with the most unlikely of people.

[smaidjor]

i know they're losing (Chapter 1)

hi mothers and fuckers of the jury, this fic is a hot mess but so am I, please appreciate it. Also, obligatory disclaimer this is about the characters not the people, all that important stuff.

Some important notes:

1. You will probably hate Scott just a little at points. He has chronic dumb bitch syndrome and there's a whole lot of bullshit going on in his life that you don't see in this fic because it's not his pov. That being said, he's still a bit of a jerk.

2. This has a lot of lord of the rings lore. A LOT. You may be kinda confused if you're not a lord of the rings fan. It's fine, Jimmy's confused too, and all of it will be explained at some point.

3. The chapter titles are from the Last Goodbye from the Hobbit films. The general title is from I Bet on Losing Dogs by Mitski.

4. General content warnings: there is a little blood, and a little violence, and a lot of mentioned death and morbid jokes. If you don't do well with themes involving death this fic is probably not for you. There is also possibly going to be referenced emotional abuse and generally unhealthy ways to raise children, though that will be talked about much further down the line. I will also put specific cws at the start of each chapter, don't worry!

5. The alternate title for this was '10k words of flower husbands being sad'. You have been warned.

Title: i know they're losing

Chapter Title: under clouds, beneath the stars

Current Total Wordcount: 3740

Content Warning: referenced/past character death, very frank discussion of death.

Snippet:

Scott whirls to face him, robes spinning behind him. “I’m fading, alright? I’m dying, now leave me alone!”

Jimmy feels like he’s been smacked in the face, the words hitting him with all the force of a well-thrown trident. Dying? “You- what- but elves don’t die, right?”

“We do. From poison, from swords, from arrows through the throat-” Jimmy’s hands fly to the scar on his neck, the one that matches Scott’s own- “from grief.”

AO3 Link

Actual fic under the cut

Scott’s hands are cold. That’s the first sign, the chill that’s uncharacteristic of an elf.

Scott’s chest hurts. That’s the second sign, the bone-deep ache he can’t seem to quell.

Scott is weaker than normal, and that’s the third sign, the one that confirms what’s happening beyond a shadow of a doubt. He’s fading, Scott thinks as he leans against a wall, trying to stop his head from spinning. He can’t say he’s surprised, not after all he’s been through; in fact, he’s more astonished it took so long to start.

-

In another world, it happens like this:

Scott’s hands are cold, and Shubble notices as he shows her around the nether. It’s worrying, a bit, how icy his skin is even in the boiling dimension, but Scott’s empire has always been cold, hasn’t it?

Katherine notices how long it’s been since Scott visited her, one of his few allies, and she worries, a bit. But Scott has always been distant, hasn’t he?

No one notices or worries enough to go check on him, and Scott fades away to nothing, cold and alone in his icy empire.

-

What actually happens is this:

Katherine has gotten word of the demon that haunts the server, and amongst all her worry, one of her thoughts is ‘has anyone checked on Scott?’. The answer is no, and next time she has a free day, she sets out for Rivendell. It’s not a long trip, not with elytra, anyways, and soon she’s at the doors to his keep.

“I need to see Lord Smajor,” she tells the guards.

“He’s not taking visitors right now.” is the response she gets.

“It’s a vital matter to the safety of both our kingdoms.”

They let her in.

Katherine spends far too long looking around the elegantly decorated downstairs and storage area before she realizes he must be up the spiral staircase in the corner of the room. She’s never been upstairs in Scott’s house before, which makes her a little nervous, but… this is an urgent matter, so she presses on into what turns out to be a very pretty bedroom. Decorated with bookshelves aplenty and gorgeous lanterns, it practically screams Scott.

The man (elf?) himself is harder to spot. At first, Katherine’s worried he isn’t there at all, but eventually she realizes that he’s still in bed despite the fact that it’s a quarter to one, only his pale face sticking out from under the covers.

“Scott?” She asks, cautious. “Lord Smajor?”

He blinks at her tiredly. “Hi, Katherine.”

“I came to talk to you about some empires stuff, but, I mean, if this is a bad time, I can come back later…?”

“No, no, stay.” He waves at the sole chair in the room, which is near-enough to the bed. “I can muster the energy for a meeting, just don’t ask me to get up.”

Katherine takes the seat hesitantly. “I came to talk about the corruption on the server, but- are you okay? Are you sick?”

Scott laughs, a little bitter. “In a way, yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take my hand.”

She obeys, confused, and finds that Scott’s hands are like ice despite the warmth of the room.

“Elves don’t get sick like mortals do,” Scott says. “Nor do we die of old age. But we get...heartsickness, you might call it. We call it fading in our tongue- the cold hands are a symptom of that. Our souls are fragile, and the grief of the mortal plane can be overwhelming. If an elf is too struck by it, they fade away and die.”

She gasps a little.

“It usually happens to old elves, world-weary,” Scott continues. “Those who are tired of existence. But any elf who has experienced enough grief is at risk.”

It takes Katherine a moment to process everything, and once she does, she stares at him in horror. “You’re- fading? But doesn’t it usually happen to old elves? Wait, are you old?”

“I’m fifty-five.”

“Is that old?”

That gets a laugh out of him. “Fifty is the elven equivalent of eighteen for humans, the age of maturity.”

“Oh.” She struggles for words for a moment, settling on “How can you be so calm if you’re dying?”

“I’m tired, Katherine. The world tore me away from the people I loved, and..I’m tired of fighting it.”

Try as she might, there’s nothing she can say to that. “Is there a way to reverse fading- to fix it?”

Something pained and raw flashes through his eyes. “Technically, yes. If an elf recovers enough emotionally, it’s reversible. But whatever caused them to fade the first time can- and often does- cause it again.”

Katherine nods seriously, absorbing the information. “We’ll just have to reverse it, then.”

“That’s sweet, Katherine, but I’m dying.”

“No,” she tells him firmly. “You’re not going to die. Now come on, you can show me your empire while I fill you in on what’s happening on the rest of the continent.”

Scott stares at her for a long moment, but eventually he takes her outstretched hand. “Alright.” His hand is frozen cold in hers. “We can try.”

Katherine lets him lead her around Rivendell, pointing out the sights. He’s done an impressive job decorating, like her, and an even more impressive job at uniting the elves and building an empire from the ground up. The people of Rivendell are weary and battle-scarred, for the most part, elves who have seen too much, but the children are bright and happy, and the cyan and gold banners wave proudly in the wind.

As they walk, she also tells Scott about the demon, Xornoth. “The demon’s already visited a lot of people, I think. Gem and Shubble for sure, and Fwhip and Sausage. That’s not even mentioning the corruption that’s been spreading.”

Scott nods. “There’s corruption in Rivendell too. Likely Xornoth’s work. And given that Jimmy still has Vilya- well, I haven’t been able to do much.”

“Vilya?”

“A ring of power. My inheritance from the Noldor.”

“Why does Jimmy have it?”

He doesn’t answer that one.

Katherine leaves feeling unsettled, with more questions than answers. She has new resolve, though, and a new goal: keep Scott from fading. He’s a good friend, though they don’t know each other that well yet, but more than that, he’s a powerful ally. And Katherine can’t afford to lose allies. So while they’re both rulers and busy in their own right, she promises to visit and drag him outside at least once a week.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Scott jokes, but his laugh is weak.

Katherine vows to hold herself to it.

-

The plan works for three entire weeks before Katherine has a week that’s so busy there’s no way she can find the time for a trip to Rivendell. Worse than that, because Scott is so isolated, he has almost no other friends, and many of Katherine’s allies are busy too. She’s a little short of options, to be honest, which is how she finds herself on Jimmy Solidarity’s doorstep that Sunday afternoon.

“Hello?” Jimmy asks as the door swings open. Katherine can see why Lizzie calls him the sweet swamp boy- his confused head tilt is frankly adorable.

“Hi! I know we don’t talk much, but I could use a favor,” she says.

“What can I do for you?”

“I need you to visit Scott.”

Jimmy looks beyond startled. “What- I mean, he doesn’t even like me! I couldn’t possibly.”

“Please?” She wheedles. “I promised him a visitor every week, but I have meetings all week this time.”

He shakes his head, hesitantly at first and then stronger. “No, Katherine. He’d just throw me right out again. I’m his enemy, for goodness sake!”

“If he hates you so much, why do you have his ring?”

Katherine knows she’s won, watching emotions flit across his face too quickly to catch. Grief is what he settles on, and she feels a little bit bad for the ring comment when his voice comes out wobbly.

“I guess I should return that, huh? Alright, I’ll go.”

“Sorry,” she says.

Jimmy brushes it off, saying there’s no need to worry, but he fiddles with the ring on his finger all the more. It’s on his left ring finger, Katherine notes. She wonders if that truly means what it implies.

“I’ll visit him tomorrow,” Jimmy says.

“I’ll hold you to that!”

-

Jimmy isn’t sure why he agreed to this at all, to be honest. Scott may have given him this ring in another world, another lifetime, but that doesn’t mean Scott doesn’t hate him in this one. What other explanation is there for how all his gifts have been rejected, how cold the elf is? Jimmy would be surprised that Scott’s never tried to take his ring back if it wasn’t for how thoroughly Scott avoids him nowadays. Getting the ring back would require talking to Jimmy, something Scott has made it very clear that he doesn’t want to do. Jimmy doesn’t have another use for it, and try as he might to forget flower fields and warm hands in his, he can’t bear to throw it away. So it’s remained on his hand all this time, a painful reminder of someone who used to love him.

Jimmy tries to avoid looking at it as much as possible, every glimpse bringing back the memory of Scott gently sliding it onto his hand, a faint blush dusting his cheeks and a smile on his lips. Even the faint shimmers in the blue gem remind him of how the starlight seemed to get caught in Scott’s hair when they were out at night. The ring had been one of their most valuable possessions on 3rd Life, the rare silver band and elegant forging more than proof of that. Now, though, the ring has to be one of the least valuable things Jimmy owns; on 3rd Life, they were humble folk in little hobbit holes, their most expensive possessions being their diamond armor and swords, but here, they’re kings and lords. Scott probably has a thousand treasures more valuable in his elven empire, so Jimmy’s not sure why he’s bothering to trek all the way across the world just to return this one.

Then again, it’s not really about the ring, and never has been. It’s about the way starlight used to shine in Scott’s eyes when he smiled, his rare, soft grin that was reserved just for Jimmy, how he gave Jimmy the most valuable thing either of them owned. It’s closure, in a way, giving it back. He won’t have any debt to Scott once this ring is returned, and they can both move on like Scott so clearly wants to.

Shaking off those thoughts, Jimmy slows to a stop in front of Scott’s house. It’s grand, nothing like his old hobbit hole, but still so clearly Scott in the decoration and color schemes. Jimmy would know who built it even if he hadn’t known Scott lived in these mountains.

“I’m here to visit Scott,” he says to the guard stationed outside.

They raise an eyebrow, presumably at the familiar way he refers to Scott. “On formal business or personal?”

“Personal? Sort of? I mean, I don’t have any diplomatic reason for being here.” Truth be told, he has no reason to be here at all, really, but...the ring.

“Then Lord Smajor cannot see you.”

Jimmy grits his teeth, suddenly furious at this whole ordeal. “Then tell Lord Smajor that I need to return his ring.”

“May I see it?”

He sticks his hand out obligingly, and the guard examines the ring, surprise blooming across their face. “I did not realize my Lord had lent you Vilya! My apologies, Lord Codfather, I see the alliance between our kingdoms is stronger than I had assumed. You may pass.”

Vilya? “Thank you, gentle, uh, gentleperson!”

The guard dips their head slightly as he walks by, a gesture of respect that he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to. He shakes off the strangeness of the interaction, though, pushing open the door to Scott’s house.

The inside is beautiful, exactly the kind of decor Scott loves...and empty. There’s no one in the spacious kitchen, the storage room, or anywhere else for that matter. Jimmy’s seconds from giving up and going home when he realizes that there are stairs up to the balcony above. That’s where he goes, finding himself in Scott’s bedroom.

Which is awkward, to say the least. It’s not like they never slept in the same room when they were married, but now that there’s this awkward, painful distance between them, Jimmy feels like he’s intruding. What’s worse is, Scott’s still in bed, laying on his side with his face tilted away from Jimmy’s awkward entrance.

“Hello, Jimmy.”

Jimmy half-jumps, not expecting that. “How’d you know it was me?”

Scott rolls over to face him, and Jimmy notes that his face is too pale for it to be natural or healthy. “Do you think I could ever forget the sound of your footsteps?” He goes on before Jimmy can answer. “What are you doing here?”

“Katherine asked me to visit, I’m not sure why, but...here I am. Say, why is she visiting every week?”

Scott’s laugh is bitter. “Katherine thinks she can save me.”

“Save you from what?” Jimmy asks, concerned despite himself.

His (ex?)husband doesn’t reply.

“Save you from what?” Jimmy presses, and gets no answer yet again.

Instead, Scott sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “You should go.” He stands, and immediately stumbles, Jimmy rushing to steady him on instinct. Scott’s hands are like ice when he grips Jimmy’s arm to regain his balance, taking several deep breaths, and Jimmy’s instantly struck by how wrong that feels. Scott’s hands were always warm, even on the coldest nights in 3rd life. Some elven thing, probably, that Scott didn’t want to talk about or have time to explain to a silly human like Jimmy.

“Scott, what is going on?”

The elf brushes him off again, heading for the stairs, but the regal effect is ruined by how hard he has to grip the railing.

“Scott, seriously! Answer me, are you okay? What’s happening?”

Scott whirls to face him, robes spinning behind him. “I’m fading, alright? I’m dying, now leave me alone!”

Jimmy feels like he’s been smacked in the face, the words hitting him with all the force of a well-thrown trident. Dying? “You- what- but elves don’t die, right?”

“We do. From poison, from swords, from arrows through the throat-” Jimmy’s hands fly to the scar on his neck, the one that matches Scott’s own- “from grief.” Scott turns back to the stairs. “Come on. If you’re not going to leave, I might as well show you around.”

Jimmy follows, reluctantly, trying to think of something to say that isn’t incoherent sputtering with a bit of ‘why do you hate me now’ added in. “You can’t just drop something like that on a man, you know!”

“You did ask, to be fair.”

Why oh why is he so stupid around Scott? “I guess so, but- but still, dude.”

Scott pushes open the side door, holding it for Jimmy. “Here.”

Jimmy nods and slips through the door.  “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

They start along the path, Scott walking far too quickly for Jimmy’s comfort given how terrible the elf’s balance is currently. He nearly has to jog to keep up, irritatingly, but at least they aren’t snapping at each other for a few precious moments.

Of course, Jimmy has to go and ruin that. “So, uh..are we going to talk about 3rd life?” He has to hear it from Scott’s own lips that he remembers, that it affected him even half as much as it’s affected Jimmy.

“No.”

“Why not? We need to talk about it some time-”

“I said no .”

“It’s literally killing you to not talk about it!”

Scott freezes, face going icy calm in the way Jimmy knows means he’s actually upset. The elf’s hands grip the fabric of his robes tight, his back going rigid. This is a bad idea, Jimmy knows.

He’s in too deep to back out now, though, the pent-up hurt of the past few months all coming out in a rush. “Tell me I’m wrong, Scott! I dare you, tell me I’m wrong! Tell me you never cared about me, tell me you didn’t bother to bury me, tell me it didn’t hurt even a little when I died! Tell me I was just stupid little Jimmy, a toy for an elf who’d live far beyond my lifespan! Tell me whatever, just tell me the truth! ”

Scott breathes out slowly, fury gradually building on his face. “Fine. You want to know what happened after you died? You want to hear about me screaming until my throat went raw? You want to know that I kissed your face and sobbed and begged you to wake up, over and over until I couldn’t speak at all? You want to live with the knowledge that Grian had to physically pull me away from your body? Is that what you want to hear, Jimmy ?”

Jimmy’s name on Scott’s lips punches all the remaining air out of him, sounding so wrong in that angry, bitter tone. Beneath all the rage, Scott sounds wrecked , and the fight leaves Jimmy’s body abruptly. “No,” he says softly. “That’s not what I want to hear, not at all. I’d rather you be happy than love me.”

Silence follows those words, only the faint sound of a waterfall in the distance there to break it.

“I buried you on the hill above our houses,” Scott says finally. “I planted a poppy over your grave.”

“Oh.”

“Grian came over the next day. I didn’t want to see anyone who wasn’t you, but I let him in because I had to. He helped me do the straps on my armor and asked me if he could do anything else to make things easier. I told him to bury me next to you.”

Jimmy swallows hard. “Did he?”

“How would I know?” Scott’s tone softens, just a little. “Grian was honorable enough, though, loyal to his allies. I like to think he did.”

“He was a good guy,” Jimmy agrees. “A little bit bloodthirsty, I guess, but good. I don’t suppose he survived any better than the rest of us, though maybe being bloodthirsty helped.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I- can I ask you why you hate me so much now? I mean, if you mourned me in third life and all.”

Scott turns away again, starting down the path a second time. He’s not looking at Jimmy when he says “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?” It’s a shock, honestly, given that this is the first time the two of them have really spoken since the beginning of empires. “But you burned the pufferfish-”

“I didn’t. I kept it.” Scott still won’t look at him. “I never hated you. I don’t think I’m capable of it.”

“Then why do you keep avoiding me?”

“I’ve been kind of busy dying,” Scott says dryly, and Jimmy doesn’t even realize it’s a joke until he looks over at Scott’s wry little grin.

“Scott! That’s not funny!” He scolds, aghast.

“It was a little funny.”

“No!”

Scott must hear the genuine distress in Jimmy’s voice because he drops the act. “Jimmy, I’m an elf. I won’t live far beyond you, but only because I’ll fade without you.”

“So your solution is to isolate yourself and fade now?” Jimmy demands.

“It does sound stupid when you put it like that, doesn’t it? But I lost you once, and I don’t think I could bear it again.”

Jimmy wants to argue, wants to fight him on this, but there’s nothing he can say. Instead, he puts a hand on Scott’s arm to stop him walking any further. Scott turns to look at him, seemingly startled, and Jimmy throws his arms around the elf.

Scott stiffens before slowly relaxing, arms coming up to wrap around Jimmy in return. It’s not as natural a gesture as it used to be, but it’s warm, gentle in a way Jimmy thought he’d never get again. It reminds him of the soft, starry-eyed boy who put flowers in his hair and laughed at him over a cake. Scott will never be that soft again and Jimmy will never be unscarred, but they’re here. They’re alive, that has to count for something.

Scott pulls back, his expression so achingly tender and heartbroken all at once. “I’m sorry, Jimmy.” His voice is raw, a little shaky. “I can’t. Not again.”

“But-”

He’s cut off by Scott shaking his head. “Losing you will destroy me. We dared to love, and now all we can do now is lessen the pain when it all comes crashing down.”

Jimmy’s in too much shock to speak, the ache in his heart returning tenfold as Scott turns back towards the house.

“Goodbye, Jimmy.” He sweeps away, elegant as ever, but stumbles and nearly falls as he reaches the door. Jimmy’s not there to catch him.

Jimmy stumbles home in a daze. It's somewhat of a miracle that no mob manages to kill him, honestly. To be so close to a resolution, to have the person he wanted most right there in his arms, and then to have all that ripped away- he can’t think of anything that could have hurt more. Even his deaths were less painful than this- at least an arrow through the throat is quicker than feeling like your heart is being ripped out through your ribs, Jimmy thinks, a little bitter. He throws Scott’s stupid ring in a pool in the swamp, watching as it sinks to the bottom of the shallow water with hardly a bubble.

Wait.

The ring.

It’s significant, somehow, according to a Rivendell guard, and more than that, it’s an excuse to see Scott again. One last chance to change his mind about the stupid plan that’s literally killing him.

Jimmy dives in without thinking, scrabbling around until his fingers close around the smooth stone and thin band. When he pulls it out, the gem glitters in the starlight even under the layers of dirt, and it looks like something special. It looks like hope.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Heyo, reporting back to request a continuation of a continuation of a continuation, if you wouldn't mind! Aka, please more 3rd Life Villainpulse angst, I'm so invested (and very curious as to whether his latest murder attempt was an actual success, or if he really should have stuck around to verify the death...)

i genuinely rly love this! i’ve got such plans for it now that i think i’ll make it into an actual proper fic.

i’ve also now posted it on AO3, titled Stand For Nothing! link here

…

Impulse is getting concerned. It’s been over five minutes and no death message in chat. It should’ve happened by now. He had been worried about being found near the scene of a death — it’d already been about five minutes since the meeting and someone would’ve gone to find Skizz, so his items would almost certainly be found — but now he’s starting to think he should have stuck around anyway and made sure the job was finished.

He had been intending to stay here at his villager trading centre until the death notification came up and then he would run back to Dogwarts and play the distressed best friend.

But no death message. So his plan has to change.

When he makes it back to Dogwarts, he finds Ren standing outside the Renchanting building, his face pale. When he spots Impulse, he quickly beckons him. “Impulse! For the love of god, where’ve you been?!”

Impulse blinks. With no death message in chat, what can Ren be so worked up about? “W-What? What’s happened…?”

“Skizzle’s been attacked! We heard an explosion outside our walls and when we went to check, we found him out there, passed out. He’s in a critical condition but Martyn’s with him now and hopefully he’ll recover.”

Impulse can only stare at Ren with an open mouth and a pit in his stomach. Somehow, in all the possible outcomes he pictured for this scenario, he never imagined Dogwarts would actually find Skizz alive. After three perfect murders, it seems he got careless.

“O-Oh my god,” he manages to choke out. “C-Can I see him?”

“Not yet, but Martyn will tell us when we can.”

Ren takes him down into the living area under Renchanting. There, Etho is pacing back and forth in front of a closed door, clearly deep in thought, but he glances up as Ren comes in. “Ren, you found him.”

Ren nods, even though it wasn’t really a question. “Any word?”

“Not yet. Martyn has three healing potions in there with him though, so I’d say Skizz’s chances are really good.”

Impulse has to strain to keep his expression steady at that. “G-Good. That’s good.”

Something changes almost imperceptibly in Etho’s expression, but Ren, clearly not noticing, rubs Impulse’s back reassuringly. “He’ll be okay, Impulse. Don’t worry.”

All Impulse can do is nod, not trusting himself to speak.

Finally, after what feels like hours, the door opens and Martyn appears, his body blocking the view inside the room. “He’s awake,” he reports, a very serious look on his face. “Ren.”

Ren quickly ducks into the room, but when Impulse starts to follow, Martyn blocks him. “Not you,” he says coldly. “Etho, stay with him, please.”

Impulse’s heart freezes. There’s only one reason Martyn would stop him from seeing his injured best friend.

Skizz has told him everything.

He takes a step back and bumps into something behind him, causing him to jump.

“What’s going on, Impulse?” asks Etho casually, an only-just-discernible undertone of danger in his voice. “You seem a little tense.”

“My best friend almost died,” Impulse replies coldly, but even he can tell his words are unconvincing.

“Indeed. I wonder how that happened?”

“I don’t like what you’re implying, Etho. Why would you have any reason to suspect me?”

Etho just folds his arms and says nothing, infuriating Impulse. “You said I was the only person on this server you really trust!”

“That was before I joined these guys. I’ve had a weird feeling in my stomach about you for a while, Impulse. Something hasn’t felt right since this whole thing started, but I assumed it was just me trying to apply rationality to this irrational world. But one thing never changes, Impulse. No matter how much you try to change it.”

Impulse falls silent, scowling at the ground. He’s already given away too much in his tone and expression.

He glances sideways at Etho, who has his eyes fixed on the door Ren and Martyn went through. Realisation dawns on him: Etho isn’t expecting him to put up a fight. Etho thinks he has nowhere to go.

Now is the time, then. He can’t afford to wait any longer; when Ren and Martyn come back out here, it’s over. Impulse knows he can’t take on three people at once. This is his last chance to escape alive.

So when Etho shifts position a few seconds later, Impulse strikes. Before he can react, Impulse sweeps Etho’s legs out from under him and shoves him into the wall as he’s falling. Without waiting around to see the result of his attack, Impulse takes off running.

He makes it out of Renchanting and is just about to run down the hill towards the crastle when an arrow whizzes by him, nicking the sleeve of his t-shirt and causing him to lose his balance. Suppressing a scream, Impulse topples down the hill and lands in the shallow river at the bottom. He tries to continue onward but has to stop as he puts weight on his left foot and realises he must have twisted his ankle during his fall.

Gritting his teeth through the throbbing pain, he looks up in time to be able to dodge another arrow fired at him by the figure on top of Dogwarts’s wall.

He has to keep going.

Every step on his left foot is agony but he pushes himself on, half-galloping down the hill on the other side, the crastle in his sights.

“Bdubs!” he shrieks as he draws near, his heart racing. The Red Army is likely right behind him. “BDUBS!”

The person he’s calling rushes out of the castle over the drawbridge just in time to catch Impulse as he finally loses his balance and pitches forward.

“Impulse! You’re soaking wet!? What the-?!”

“Th- They’re coming for me,” he croaks. His eyes flicker up and he spots two faces in the windows on the second floor. It’s time for the performance of his life. “Dogwarts turned on me! They think I killed Tango and Cleo a-a-and made you kill Joel!”

“What?!” gasps Bdubs. “That’s ridiculous! Why would they think that?!”

“I-I don’t know but th- They’re gonna kill me, Bdubs…!”

“Not on my watch!”

Bdubs quickly ushers Impulse inside the crastle and into the waiting arms of Jimmy. Together, the two guide Impulse upstairs and lay him down in the bed Grian has placed in a position safely away from the slit windows.

“What happened, Impulse?” Bdubs asks softly. “How did they turn on you?”

Impulse takes a shaky breath. “Something happened to Skizz. He… He got attacked. Then he told everyone it was me and that I’d killed Tango and Cleo and manipulated you into killing Joel.”

“First of all, that’s utterly ridiculous,” Bdubs snaps. “I killed Joel because he was about to kill you. And second, why on earth would you want to kill Tango or Cleo?”

“I-I think you might’ve been right, Bdubs. I th-think Etho was responsible for Cleo’s death. And now he’s got Dogwarts trying to make me a scapegoat.”

Bdubs’s gaze darkens. “Despicable little-.”

“BDOUBLEO!”

“Stay there,” says Bdubs.

He strides to the window, flanked by Grian and Scott, armed with his crossbow. “What do you want, Ren?”

Down on the ground, having left Skizz in the care of BigB, stand Ren, Martyn, and Etho, staring up at the castle. The latter two hold bows, while Ren is armed with a sword and shield.

“We know Impulse is hiding out in there,” Ren announces, with the regal but dangerous air of a king. “Hand him over to us, Bdubs.”

“No way in hell,” Bdubs snaps back. “He told me everything!”

“We can guarantee you he did not,” responds Martyn steadily. “Not the truth, anyway. He’s using you, Bdubs.”

“YOU’re the ones using HIM! As a scapegoat!”

“Impulse isn’t the angel you think he is, Bdubs,” Etho says darkly. “You’re protecting the person who killed Cleo.”

“No, YOU killed Cleo,” snarls Bdubs. “And I bet you killed Tango too and tried to blame it on me! You’re just trying to frame anyone you can so you can get away with it!”

Despite the pain and stress he’s experiencing, Impulse can’t help feeling proud of himself. The seeds of doubt and suspicion he’s sown between Bdubs and Etho are paying off now.

“Bdubs.” Ren’s voice drops slightly as emotion creeps into his tone. “He attacked his best friend and left him to die. If we hadn’t found him in time, Skizz would have succumbed to his injuries alone and terrified in the middle of nowhere, murdered by his own best friend.”

“What exactly is Impulse’s motive supposed to be, here?” Scott asks suddenly. “You say he killed Tango and Cleo, orchestrated Joel’s death, and tried to murder Skizzle. Why exactly would he want to do that?”

“Skizz claims Impulse said it was because Tango “knew too much” about something,” Martyn says. “Some kind of secret that Impulse is keeping. And that Cleo’s and Joel’s deaths were “necessary to push the war forward”. That’s his motive, Scott. Impulse wants war, and he doesn’t care who he hurts to get it.”

“We ARE talking about the same Impulse, right?” demands Bdubs. “Our Impulse? The sweetheart who wouldn’t hurt a fly? Are we sure Skizz didn’t just misremember? He's a little unreliable like that. Maybe he said it was someone else who-.”

“Don’t you dare!” Martyn bursts out suddenly, his voice filled with the most venom anyone had ever heard it. “Don’t you DARE say that! You weren’t there, Bdubs! You didn’t have to fix his broken ribs and his fractured neck and his shattered arm! You weren’t there when he finally woke up after several minutes of crying out and panicked breathing like he was having a nightmare! You didn’t hear the way he cried, how terrified he was when he told me what happened, the raw agony in his voice! That’s not the demeanor of someone who MISREMEMBERED! Skizz has gone through hell today and it’s all Impulse’s fault! So I’m not leaving here without his head, in one form or another!”

“YEAH!” Ren yells in agreement, hitting his sword against his shield. “No more arguments. No more wasting time. If you don’t give us Impulse right NOW, we will declare war on you and take him by force.”

Inside the crastle, Impulse’s heart skips a beat. This is it: the moment of truth. Either everything he’s been working towards will finally come to fruition… or Bdubs will hand him over and he will die.

Bdubs straightens up, a steely look of determination appearing in his eyes.

“Then consider us at war.”

[heybeybey]

Did I ask you the peaceful rivetra cabin one honey with a slice of nsfw ?? ( if I did already ignore this 😭)

Not yet! @himebee-5 And I'm glad you requested this! Anyway, you know how long my HC posts are so the actual cabin headcanon comes in halfway through (this is 1,454 words wtf) haha

This is 3 full cups of honey, a dash of dramatic angst in the beginning and two teaspoons of NSFW btw.

Hope you'll enjoy!!

Rivetra Cabin +++ (you’ll understand what the + is later on) Canonverse AU

Petra lived through the 57th failed expedition but both her and Levi were permanently injured. Petra came out with a spinal injury and while the doctors did say that she's going to make a partial recovery, her mobility won't be the same as before. 

Levi, on the other hand, lost his left leg. Both have no choice but to retire from the Survey Corps.

I want to add a dash of drama so in this Canonverse AU, the Military Police are forcing Levi to go back to the Underground. 

His temporary citizenship above ground is revoked since he's not going to be a Scout anymore and he wasn't able to fulfill the required service years needed to become a permanent resident (this is something that I just came up with lol)

Erwin tried to pull some strings but even he can't do much since the Survey Corps' reputation is tarnished at this point (same as what happened in the show). The MP tried multiple times to escort Levi out the Survey Corps HQ but Erwin and Hange always finds an excuse to delay it a bit (ex: wrapping things up regarding his dead squad, recovering for a month or two until he can be escorted back etc.)

Petra, stressed and panicking over the fact that her captain will be dragged back to the Underground, frantically begs Levi to run away with her.

Note that they don't have a relationship (yet) and Levi was surprised at her suggestion since Petra lives a decent life as a citizen born in Wall Rose. 

He refuses and said that he can run away by himself if needed but Petra argues that now that he's disabled, he needs someone who will support him.

Our girl got bolder since she knows that they're not really Captain and Subordinate anymore.

She was persistent and a day before they know the MPs will come knocking again, he gives in and they made a run for it.

Erwin and Hange def. arranged a few things for them and Erwin even expedited their last salary

They jumped from one cheap apartment to another just to escape the MPs and finally found a cabin they can afford on a slightly rundown village somewhere north and towards the edge of Wall Rose

It wasn't the best village to live but definitely still better than the Underground (or in jail, in Petra's case since technically she just helped a criminal escape)

Few years passed (let's say their universe had a happy ending that Isayama won't probably give us 😭) and the MP gave up on Levi's case.

Petra and Levi live a quiet life together :3 Both of them needs some support when walking so they do have a crutch (for Levi) and a wheelchair (sometimes for Petra) on hand.

Levi used his last salary and savings to open a small tea shop in the village while they used Petra's for their monthly expenses during the first year. The tea shop eventually was able to support them once it started picking up.

Levi thought he'd hate not being able to serve in the Scouts but was surprised that he did prefer this domestic bliss instead.

He usually prepares the tea while Petra serves the customers in their tea shop.

They'd support each other in cleaning the cabin til it's spotless.

Petra buys groceries every week while Levi focuses more on cooking and laundry for the both of them.

It wasn't easy living together at first since we all know how Levi is and since they're really equals now, Petra doesn't hesitate in speaking her mind anymore. They'd sometimes clash but Levi is the one who often approaches her to apologize and make up.

They both hear news about what's happening and Erwin and Hange sometimes visit them (I want a happy ending for this so Daddy Sasageyo and Hange are both alive ok)

They didn't immediately jump one another btw. They both know that there are already feelings between them but Levi's too emotionally constipated to explore it, much less make it official.

It happened 2 years into living together. Levi was watching Petra sweep the floor and just abruptly said that they should get married.

Petra dropped the broom in shock and her face was absolutely comical. While she and Levi did have a few romantic moments here and there (small but unofficial dates, cheek and forehead kisses given subconsciously), they never talked about an actual relationship.

Levi said that they're already living together anyway and wasn't her dad upset that she's living with a man but not married to said man?

He also remembers the time when they were still in the Scouts and he and his squad were talking about what it might be like to be married since Eld just announced his engagement (rip ☹️)

His only contribution to that conversation btw is "no" when asked if he wanted to get married lol 

Anyway, he remembered how Petra said that she once dreamed about getting married someday and having a happy family. However, at that time, her dream of dedicating her life to the Scouts was more important than settling down and she doesn't plan to retire for many many years.

They were both silent after that and Levi started feeling embarrassed. He tried to take it back, saying that of course, he understands that she doesn't want to since he is in his mid-30s and she'd probably find a better, able-bodied, younger man in the village instead.

Before he even finishes his apology, Petra said yes :3 (Girl has been fantasizing about this for years, of course she'll say yes haha)

They did a shotgun wedding that same evening and Levi started trying to find ways to romance her. It's all awkward at best and downright embarrassing attempts every single time but Petra wouldn't want it any other way.

Petra, being a romantic at heart, wanted a wedding dance and Levi, being a sap, gave in. They had their own wedding dance of sorts in their cabin the best they could with their conditions.

When they got the cabin, they shared one room but have separate beds. The next day after they got married, Levi found Petra pushing the bed together and she said they're married now and he usually climbs on her bed at the middle of the night whenever he has nightmares anyway.

The first ones to know about their shotgun marriage is Petra's father, Erwin and Hange. Hange dragged Erwin to their cabin the very next day after they received the letter.

Mr. Ral wasn't happy at first that Levi didn't ask for his permission (Petra scolded her father for being too old-fashioned) but he eventually told Levi that he approves as long as he's making Petra happy.

Erwin and Hange brought wedding gifts that can help them with their cabin (new cleaning materials, something for their fireplace and since Hange can be crazy, she also brought baby materials. Most are storybooks and onesies haha)

They weren’t planning on having kids but then Levi started reading the children storybooks that Hange brought and Petra noticed that he’d sometimes get this look in his face

We all know Levi would make a great father!!!!

She asked him to stop using protection one night and after three months of trying, Petra did end up pregnant :3

Now for the spicy HCs 💦

Levi wanted to make sure he does everything the right way for her so yes, they do have a wedding night. It was awkward the first time around but Levi has superb stamina 😏  so they did a few rounds and he got the hang of it the second time around.

After the third round, Petra was begging him if they can go to sleep instead. Levi teased her since she accidentally revealed that she's been fantasizing about fucking her captain for years. Now she's giving up?

Okay, that challenged her and they did one last round lol

Turns out Levi being a clean freak doesn't end with brooms, rags and mops! He's also great with aftercare. 

Since Petra didn't have the energy to shower any longer (also taking into consideration her spine's condition), Levi cleaned her afterwards while she just lay there smiling stupidly in contentment.

Sometimes, aftercare ends in more sex though since Levi can't help himself and he starts teasing her again.

...Petra got dicked down on every furniture in their cabin btw. Their favorite is the wooden living room table because it’s in front of the fireplace. 

[justleaf]

Summary

Roche and Iorveth go on a date with Geralt as their chaperone (not the hat).

Content Background

This one is especially painful to yeet because it was already completed, together with 50% of the next chapter that was the smutty bits. It was finished right about the time I posted Chapter 5 and would have fit in as Chapter 11, but it just didn't make sense with all the additional plot points I'd shoved in.

I've redacted the parts that could potentially get my tumblr banned btw please donut laugh when you see it.

Original Fic

It Took Years

Length

2,300 words

_____________

“Geralt, remember when I released you from prison and saved you from the Nilfgaardians a year ago?”

The white wolf raised his eyebrows in surprise. Roche had never called in a favour for him, and he could tell that Geralt knew it was going to be quite significant. He had thought about it too many times and despite the embarrassment and possibly never being able to look the witcher in the eye, he simply had no other choice.

“Look, I just need you to help Iorveth and I create an alibi.”

“... Uh-huh?”

“We have a meeting with Dijkstra in Novigrad in a week's time, and I plan to…” he swallowed hard when the words became momentarily stuck in his throat. It took another second for him to gather his courage to speak, and the slight tremble in his voice was immediately noticeable.

“I plan to spend the night with Iorveth in one of the inns the night before. But we need someone to cover us.”

The white wolf seemed to grow even paler and his lips pressed together in contemplation.

“You know that I have enhanced senses.”

“I know, but I need to make sure that no one catches us. Not the Scoia'tael, Blue Stripes, Dijkstra’s spies, Redanian spies, any Nilfgaardian-”

“Alright, alright, I get it. You just need to make sure that everyone thinks that I invited you two for a drink and make sure that no one is listening in.”

“I know I’m asking a lot of you, but you’re the only one I can trust in this situation. I haven’t… Iorveth and I don’t have any other opportunities. I can’t even hold his hand without worrying that someone is watching.”

Geralt stared blankly at him and Roche’s heart began to pump harder. His worry must have shown on his face, for the witcher immediately sighed and shook his head.

“Come to the Chameleon. I’ll get you guys a suite. With a wall to separate the living area and the bedroom.”

Roche looked up at him and down a few times, wondering first if Geralt had misspoke, and then if he had misheard. When the witcher said nothing and shrugged, Roche finally accepted it with a nod.

“Thanks, Geralt. Drinks are on me,” he muttered and hung his head a little. Embarrassment was beginning to burn his cheeks.

“Don’t mention it. I’ll see you soon.”

<center>_________________________</center>

“Why are we here so early when Geralt only wanted to see us after sundown,” Iorveth whispered as they passed the guards that almost ripped their papers in half. Roche had smooth-talked his way in and Iorveth was impressed, even though he didn't let it show.

They had set aside their armour and entered the city dressed as merchants: Roche in a nondescript outfit that let him blend in with the rest of the nobles, and Iorveth draped in a cloak that obscured his elven features.

The sun was nowhere near setting when they arrived in the city. Roche had intended to take him on a date around the city, but didn’t want to admit it.

“I didn’t want to disappoint Geralt by being late.”

“Gwynbleidd would have understood.”

“Well, since we’re already here, we might as well explore the city. I heard of a tavern along the docks with an elven cook. Would you like to go there?”

The mention of food changed Iorveth’s expression immediately and Roche suppressed his laughter.

They dined at the Golden Sturgeon, where Iorveth immediately received preferential treatment from a redhead with freckles (it's Bea btw). She made sure to seat them in a relatively hidden corner and Roche could see the elf progressively relax as his shoulders began to sag. He even spotted the hints of a smile dancing on his lips when she put some strange fish dish in front of him.

Just when Roche thought that Iorveth was incapable of enjoying himself even more, he became increasingly pliant when they sat down at the Chameleon for a pint while a band played in the background. Roche didn't understand the first thing about music, but his two mugs of ale were enough to get him to keep his reservations.

Besides, he had something really cute to look at.

The elf's cloak was finally down and he could see the tips of his pointed ears twitch with every beat of the drum. He thought about how nice it would have been to pin him down to the bed and toy with his ears. His eyes trailed across the elf’s neck. If they didn’t have anywhere to be tomorrow, he would have left bite marks across that smooth skin.

<em>Mine,</em> he thought, and he wanted the world to know once all this was over.

“You play the recorder don’t you,” Roche asked out of the blue. Their eyes met and Iorveth was slightly startled by the intensity of his gaze, but he didn’t back down.

“Yeah. There’s been too much going on recently and I haven’t had the chance to though.”

“You can practice with mine tonight.”

“Vernon,” Iorveth warned with a glare, and then quickly glanced around the room to see if anyone was within earshot. There wasn’t, but the tension in his body didn’t leave.

“I could polish yours all night too, you know.”

The elf flinched and could see the pink develop along the tops of Iorveth’s high cheekbones and the tips of his ear. Past his flustered expression however, there was a particular heat blossoming in his eyes. Roche didn’t let up, his curiosity driving him to see just how much he could take it.

“My carrying case is a bit small, but I’m sure yours will fit in with a bit of a shove."

This time, Iorveth couldn't resist the urge to push back. Dandelion's tavern was filled with his regulars who were deep in their own conversations, and they were just talking about music, right?

"So you admit that my instrument is bigger."

"Well the quality of the instrument doesn't matter if the musician has no idea how to handle it."

"I think we've proven that I'm the better player though."

"Our last few encounters haven't exactly been skewed in my favour and I still managed."

"There is no fairness in music and in battle. You should know this, <em>Commander</em>."

The way Iorveth said the word made his mouth go dry.

Now <em>that</em> was truly unfair, and his [banana] agreed. He was seconds away from tugging Iorveth upstairs when the doors swung open and in stepped the white wolf.

"Geralt!" he called out and waved a hand.

"Nice to see you both. I hope you didn't wait long."

The witcher took a few steps towards them, sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. He had this resigned look about him and Roche immediately knew that he could smell their arousal.

"Let's drink in my room," Geralt suggested and grabbed four mugs of ale from a passing waitress. She protested at first, but nodded and flashed him a huge smile when she saw who he was.

They headed up the stairs and Roche had to try very hard not to openly stare at Iorveth's ass. It [eggplant] and he had no choice but to stare ruefully at the ground.

As soon as he saw that the second floor was empty, he reached out and pinched the elf's behind. Iorveth jumped at the touch and almost spilled his own mug of ale, and Roche was treated to one of those embarrassed glares. They quietly ascended another flight of stairs and neared the room, and Roche could feel his heart race and his breathing grow ragged.

Finally, after two weeks of planning and trying to fit all the pieces together, it was happening. It had been a year since Dol Blathanna and months since they started seeing each other, and Roche was raring to go.

Geralt opened the door to a suite on the top floor that was exactly as he described: a small living area with a table for four and a few sparse furnishings, though it was far more comfortable than the arrangements he was used to. Partitioned off by a wall and door was a bedroom mostly occupied by a sizable bed and more pillows than he could count. A decision made by the bard, no doubt.

As soon as the door closed behind them and they set down their mugs, Roche grabbed Iorveth’s collar and shoved him towards the bedroom. The elf looked mortified and nearly lost his footing, but he recovered within the span of a few steps. He grabbed Roche’s arms and plucked them off him, then tried to shove him backwards but Roche held his ground.

“What the fuck, Roche?!”

Roche took a step back and considered Iorveth’s anger. The elf's gaze had grown sharp and alert, but he was mostly just shocked at the audacity of his actions. He just flashed him a devious smile and was returned a twitch of confusion.

“What? Didn’t you always like roughhousing me on the forest floor?”

“Not in front of Gwyn-”

Roche barely gave Iorveth a chance to answer. He charged forward, wrapped an arm around the elf’s waist, and threw him straight into bed. Iorveth went flying into the mattress with a groan and Roche climbed straight into his lap. Heavy footsteps thudded behind them and stopped by the door.

“Oil’s on the nightstand. Don’t get the sheets dirty and take your shoes off before you get in bed dammit. I can’t afford to pay for new sheets too.”

“Gwynbleidd, what is the meaning of this.”

“Just a little gift from me to the both of you. Have fun, Iorveth. Just try not to make too much noise.”

The door behind them closed and Iorveth just stared blankly at Roche, who was already taking off his top. No words came out of the elf’s gaping mouth, so Roche blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Enjoying the date so far?”

“Explain yourself Roche, I’m not-”

The elf had to pause when Roche began grinding in his lap. It worked until it didn't, and Iorveth grabbed onto his hips to still them. Roche just wanted to get to the fucking already, but the elf refused to be distracted no matter how much he tried.

“Did you plan all this? Coming to my camp to pick me up. Picking flowers for me along the path. Bringing me to the tavern for dinner. Having drinks. This fake meeting with Gwynbleidd.”

“Of course. When else was I going to get the opportunity to take you out on a date?”

Something in Iorveth cracked visibly and Roche went dead still with nervousness. The other lowered his gaze and Roche cupped his face in his hands, desperate for his elf to be okay. He stroked his cheek gently and tilted his head up to try and get a better look at that unreadable expression. This was the opposite of what he hoped would happen and worry began to pool in his stomach.

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong. Talk to me,” he urged and placed a peck on the scarred cheek. There was no answer, so he continued fluttering kisses along his jawline. He felt like his world might come crashing down at any moment and resisted the urge to salvage the situation before he knew what was going on.

It felt like Iorveth was cycling through a thousand and one emotions. He cupped the elf's face in his hands and pulled back, where he was greeted by a vulnerability he had never seen before. The other had this dazed and awed look in his eyes, and if Roche wasn't so flustered by the sudden change of pace, he might he caught his surrender.

“Vernon…”

“I’m here. What is it? You can tell me.”

“It’s just...overwhelming.”

“In a good way or bad way?”

“Good way.”

Roche released the breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. It was nice that the reaction was somewhat positive, but Roche’s poor heart couldn’t take the anticipation. Surprising Iorveth was turning out to be quite bad for his health.

“Well. Have you enjoyed yourself?”

“Mmn.”

“It's okay. We'll take it at your pace.”

“I just... need some time to process this. I’ve never been treated like this before. It's overwhelming.”

“Well you deserve it. Take the time you need, it’s okay,” Roche encouraged again and placed another peck on his nose as he undid the bandanna that obscured half his face.

This really wasn’t how he thought the evening would go, but he had to admit that it was nice. At the core of it, all he really wanted was to be able to kiss and hold Iorveth intimately without fear of someone catching them. Now they were in bed and there was someone trustworthy to watch their backs, he supposed he had achieved his goal. Maybe they could just hold off the fucking for a while more.

“Do you want to take a nap with me,” Roche offered after they'd sat in silence for a while.

“Yeah… I would like that very much.”

Iorveth tried to take off his cloak, but Roche shushed him and pushed his hands aside. The elf had a blank look on his face and hurt momentarily flashed across his eye.

"Let me," Roche rushed to salvage as he pulled loose the strings on his cloak.

“I can undress myself you know.”

“I know you can, but just let me pamper you a bit more.”

The tips of Iorveth's ears were bright red and Roche suppressed the urge to tease him about it. Slowly, he helped the elf strip down to his underwear and slipped him beneath the sheets. Then he took off his own garments and joined him, snuggling up to that warm and slender body that seemed to fit so perfectly with his.

Yeah, he could wait.

[agentark88]

First Kisses and Romantic Quotes

If you haven’t read Think yet, and you want to experience some MHA/BNHA romance, here’s the link to get you started! Happy Valentine’s Day!

**Think: MHA/BNHA Fan Fiction Spoilers!**

First Kiss Chapters:

Hitoshi Shinso- Chapter Eleven: Carnival of Chaos

Shoto Todoroki- Chapter Sixteen: Study Session Turned Toxic

Bakugo Katsuki- Chapter Twenty-One: BioVirus

Eijiro Kirishima- Chapter Thirty-Three: Movie Night with the Bakusquad

Memorable Romantic Quotes from Think that Made my Heart Skip a Beat (Within the First Fifteen Chapters):

Kirishima to Bakugo after being dared to flirt with him: “I saw you looking at me from the across the room, and I couldn’t help but notice how your eyes glisten against your fiery personality.” Kirishima paused, as if to draw out the moment. “With your explosions and my rock hard quirk, we can make some sweet candy together. Maybe you can try a taste some time.”-Chapter Four: Truth or Dare

Bakugo to Think after she was locked out of her room because of her habit of sleepwalking: “You tell anyone about this, and I’ll kill you,” he said, leaning over you with his intense gaze. Bakugo grabbed your hand and pulled your arm out forcefully, before you had enough time to protest, he slid a spiral bracelet onto outstretched wrist. “Use that when you get your key,” he commanded. He then draped a blanket over you. “If you freeze to death, I’m never going to hear the end of it from that damn Kirishima. Give me back the blanket and jacket tomorrow.” -Chapter Five: Sleepwalking

Think to Midoriya when she was half awake: “You are so cute with your tomato face,” you murmured. You couldn’t help but start to giggle at your own words. “Broccoli tomato,” you said. - Chapter Five: Sleepwalking

Think calling out to Bakugo when being held hostage by Dabi: 

Bakugo? you called out. You bit your trembling lip. Bakugo? you reached out again desperately.

If you don’t know where you are, then tell me where I am! Bakugo shouted in his head. An explosion went off to your left, shadowing the outdoor training equipment and sending a shockwave that whipped through you and Dabi. The loud boom echoed over the alarm and made the ground you stood on quake.

Dabi jolted backwards, letting your throat go just enough for you to get a breath of air.

You’re on my left. Near the balance bars. I’m in the shadows of the building.

I see you. -Chapter Seven: Waking to Fire

Bakugo expressing his feelings to Think about her situation with her parents: 

“I’m not giving up,” you said, sniffling.

“Really?” he asked seriously. “Because it looks to me like you’re going to let your parents decide what’s best for you. And, it also looks to me like I went out of my way to save someone who’s about to throw away their dreams because their dumbass parents are going to make them transfer schools. You like wasting my time, Big Brain? You like getting me in trouble?”

“N-no,” you said.

Bakugo leaned back, and his intense gaze shifted to Todoroki. “If you even think about letting your parents transfer you because you got attacked by one villain, I’m coming to personally kick your ass.”-Chapter Eight: Parental Guidance

Bakugo to Think while they are recovering from injuries: “As if that would keep someone like you from making friends,” Bakugo said.

“What do you mean someone like me?” you asked.

“Someone who’s bright and nice…” Bakugo suddenly trailed off. His face flushed all the way to his ears. “I mean someone who’s obnoxious and…” He clicked his tongue, turning his head further to the side.-Chapter Nine: Healing Sweets

Bakugo bringing Think flowers while she’s recovering: Bakugo extended his arm out, dropping the weeds on the bedsheet covering your legs. The stark yellow of the tops of the flowers popped against the dull white background.

“I picked these for you,” he said, scratching his cheek and keeping his gaze on the far wall. “They looked like something that might make you feel better or whatever. You seem like the kind of person that likes this kind of crap.” He shoved his hands in his pocket, and you could see the shade of pink dusting the edges of his cheeks.-Chapter Ten: Mind Split Versus Purple Death Explosion

Shinso to Think after he’d been avoiding her: “I can’t afford any distractions…that’s why I’ve been distancing myself from you,” he said.

Your heart pounded loudly in your chest, and you tried desperately to steady your breathing. This close to him you could see every taught muscle in his arms, in his chest. His skin glistened. He smelled of lavender and sandalwood.

“Distractions?” you squeaked and cleared your throat.

Shinso leaned a bit closer to your face, tipping your chin up with his index finger. “You are what I call a distraction, Kitten,” he purred.-Chapter Eleven: Carnival of Chaos

Bakugo and Kirishima cheering up Think after she was attacked by members of The League of Villains: “You don’t have to cry. We would have never let them kill you. We would have been there in seconds if you called for us! Stop thinking you have to do everything by yourself!” You saw Bakugo shaking, but it didn’t seem like it was rage. “You’re part of our class now! You’re one of us! If you think that we’re just going to stand by and watch you die, that’s bullshit!”

“We would have kicked their asses!” Kirishima said with a warming smile, finally letting Bakugo move again. He hit his fists together.-Chapter Twelve: Player One Versus Fear

Midoriya to Think after she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder while studying together: “It’s okay,” Midoriya said, cutting your frantic ramblings short. He gave you a little more room so you could get your bearings again. “I’m actually glad you were able to rest.” He fidgeted nervously with his hands, avoiding your gaze. “I’ve noticed that you’ve looked really exhausted the past couple of days in class. I hope you’re sleeping. Todoroki mentioned he was worried about you too.” Midoriya started pressing his index fingers together. “After you’d asked for my help studying, I thought that you might not have been resting because you were stressed out about your subjects. I’m glad I was able to relieve some of that tension.” -Chapter Thirteen: Studying with Broccoli

Shoto and Think after Think experienced Shoto’s rough childhood through his memories: Shoto gently slid his fingers around your head, and he pulled you to his chest. He released your damp hair from its tight bun by pulling the hair tie from it. He slid his fingers through the loosening strands, placing his chin on the top of your head.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You’re okay. That’s all that matters to me.” Shoto’s voice came out in a low rumble. While leaning against his chest, the vibrations seemed to calm your aching body.-Chapter Fourteen: Fighting Toward Finals

There are so many chapters and so many more quotes that I would have liked to add. I might do another post with more of my favorite quotes in the future. Let me know what your favorite quote is from Think (Romantic or Not)! I’d love to see which chapter quotes resonated with you the most. Again, Happy Valentine’s Day!

[humans4vampires]

Mistletoe

Request: Anon - “Tell me more about human bella’s christmas with the cullens, I need the details asap”

Merry Christmas, anon - and a happy holidays to all of you xo

READ PART ONE HERE

“Bella!” Charlie’s voice was loud and his footsteps pounding down the hall were even louder. I sat up in my bed in a futile attempt to warn Edward. It was a silly and needless instinct. My eyes were still adjusting as Charlie swung open my door and came flying into my room. He didn’t bother looking at me as he continued to the window.

“Bella, look!” He said, an awe to his tone I’d never heard before. “There’s so much snow I can barely open the front door!”

It was oddly bright in my room, I thought. I stumbled over the bed to join Charlie at the window and looked out over the frosted scene. I had to squint to take it in, and not because I was still groggy; the mountains of white covering the yard were glistening in the rare morning sunlight. There was an even blanket on our street, on the neighbor’s houses and on their cars and fences. Their Christmas lights, still on since the morning was in its very early hours, were casting faint colors across the pristine snowfall. Charlie was muttering something to himself about not hearing about a snowstorm when I realized what he was really going on about. My eyes finally settled on our yard and I instantly caught the drastic difference.

My truck was completely hidden by a thick mountain of snow and only the red and blue lights atop Charlie’s cruiser were poking out of a matching pile. The pavement and grass were completely forgotten, covered with an immeasurable amount of snowfall. I was sure the entire house was coated. It was too much. Much too much. I grumbled Alice’s name under my breath and Charlie turned to me.

“What?” His eyes had a childlike intensity. It was an unfamiliar excitement I’d never seen on Charlie. For a moment, I felt like I was looking at the man my mother had known.

I shook my head, coloring my words with disbelief. “Amazing,” I answered.

He nodded and looked back out the window. “Sure is.”

A warm feeling washed over me as I watched Charlie look out over the snow, a smile crossing his face where a smile hadn’t been for some time. The guilt I felt for being the reason for his worries didn’t cloud me now.

“Merry Christmas, Dad,” I said.

“Merry Christmas, Bells.”

Charlie crossed his arms then and looked at me. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to drag you out of bed this early.”

I shook my head, “No, it’s okay. I’ll come down in a minute and get breakfast started.”

He nodded and started for the door. I waited for Charlie’s last steps at the bottom of the stairs before I shut my bedroom door and turned back.

Edward was sitting in my rocking chair, idly rocking as though he had been there the whole time. A coy smile spread on his lips as he opened his arms to me. I rushed across the room and sat in his lap quickly. He continued to rock as I clung to him tightly, his cold skin sending a shiver through me.

He chuckled lightly, “I wasn’t far.”

“Still,” I sighed. “I’d rather you were in my arms.”

He squeezed me tighter for a moment and hummed in agreement. We were both still recovering from the months apart and my heart ached whenever I was reminded of his absence. No matter how brief any moment of separation was brought between us, that pain began to creep back. His touch was the only relief for it now. I moved to face him and his golden eyes glistened with that same childlike glint I’d seen in Charlie’s. Edward’s skin wasn’t sparkling exactly, but the reflection of the white snow bounced off his skin in a gentle glow. His beauty stunned me —dazzled me— when he smiled my favorite crooked smile. My heart stuttered and he chuckled again, bending his head down to kiss me.

He brought one cool hand to cup my face as he brought our lips together. I was in a frenzy immediately. I locked my hands locked in his bronze hair. My body curved to his and Edward laughed on my lips, “Bella…”

I shook my head, refusing to move, soaking in the last seconds of pure pleasure before he removed me from himself. He continued to laugh lightly as I struggled to catch my breath. When I finally did, I let out a long sigh. He cradled me closer to him and I rested my head on his chest. We rocked for a bit as he stroked my hair.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispered gently.

I smiled. “Merry Christmas.”

I snapped my head up then to look at him, a serious expression crossing my face. “You know, if you’re trying to pull off this whole ‘we’re all regular humans, nothing to see here’ routine, you might want to stop Alice from decorating my house with unbelievable amounts of snow. One of these days, someone is going to catch on.”

Edward bit his lip, fighting a smile. “Bella, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I cocked my head to the side and rolled my eyes. “Please, Edward.”

He smiled, but didn’t reply, running a hand through his tousled hair. I wasn’t in the mood to coax the truth out of him, anyway. I was still enjoying the glimmer in his eye. I liked the way the holiday seemed to lighten his mood. I had never really felt that ‘Christmas morning’ feeling before. My mother did try for a few years to keep up the Santa charade, but her terrible planning skills and lack of outside childcare meant that I was often shopping with her for the gifts that would be under the tree – if we had gotten a tree at all. By the time I was older, we had a fake tree that plugged in and we usually managed to get it up by Christmas Eve. The desert climate of Arizona never helped build up my Christmas spirit, either.

“Charlie is waiting for you,” Edward said quietly, motioning his head toward the door.

I nodded, but didn’t make any moves to leave. “What time will you be back?”

He smiled, “Eleven.”

I counted the hours in my head. They were going to be difficult, but not impossible. I would be busy with Charlie. Edward stood me up and kissed me quickly before ducking out my window. I didn’t bother dressing since Charlie had gone down in his pajamas. I figured we were playing it by ear, making our own Christmas morning traditions as we went.

I put the biscuits in the oven that I had laid out the night before —Grandma Swan’s recipe— and made eggs and bacon. Charlie and I sat in the living room, eating at the coffee table to enjoy the fire he had made. Our small tree in the corner had a few small presents wrapped below it. Charlie put the radio on to a Christmas classics station and it murmured softly in the background as we carried on light conversation. I was surprised at how simple it was to spend time together like this.

When we had finished, I carried the dishes to the kitchen and Charlie followed me. I washed the dishes while he clamored around behind me. He finished making us hot chocolate by the time I had finished the dishes. I tried to keep myself composed when he asked me if I wanted little marshmallows in mine. I was still not used to being looked after; I knew he was traditionally supposed to be the one doing the nurturing, but all my years at home with my mother had my priorities mixed up.

“Alright,” Charlie said, handing me my mug. “Present time.”

I followed him into the living room again and sat on the floor by the hearth of the fireplace. We both grabbed a gift from under the tree and exchanged them.

“This one is from your mom,” he said, passing me a poorly wrapped square. “I think it got smashed in the mail.”

I chuckled, knowing it hadn’t. Mom had never been great with gift wrap.

Opening gifts didn’t take very long between the two of us. Charlie was excited about his new fly-fishing set that Edward helped me pick out —having a boyfriend with mind-reading capabilities came in handy around Christmas. And because I had gotten a decent employee discount on it from Newton’s, I was still able to afford the ridiculously expensive down jacket that Alice insisted he would love. From what I could tell from his reaction, he did.

My mom sent me a rather eclectic set of wind chimes constructed of sea glass and shells, and Phil sent along a couple of CDs he thought I’d like. Charlie gave me a knit scarf and pair of bean boots, which I knew were rather expensive. Had he noticed my rain boots were looking weathered? He also gave me some cash with the hope that I’d get myself a couple new books. Again, I fought to beat back the emotions I knew both Charlie and I were not comfortable sharing.

We sat in the living room for awhile, both admiring our new gifts, until the clock chimed at ten. I got up from the floor then and excused myself to get dressed. I took a quick shower and dried my hair, trying to put myself together for whatever was going to be happening at the Cullens. I was sure it was going to be completely different from my morning with Charlie.

I was dressed in a white turtleneck, jeans, and my new boots by the time Edward was at the door promptly at eleven. Charlie was already dressed and at the door before I could get down the stairs.

“Merry Christmas, Charlie,” Edward smiled brightly. He was dressed in a soft beige sweater, the kind with a small zipper at the neck, the collar standing up. The collar of a white button-up was peaking through and he had a hand tucked into the pocket of his dark jeans. I was beginning to believe in Christmas miracles.

“Merry Christmas, Edward,” Charlie grumbled back. Charlie was still entirely against the idea of Edward being around, and I was still very much grounded for running out on Charlie for the second time for an Edward related incident. But we were still following the rules of my curfew, even on Christmas. To be fair, Charlie was being very gracious about me spending part of the day with the Cullens – and allowing Edward to join Charlie and I for dinner. I also knew that Charlie would be going out to La Push to see Billy while I was gone, and that was a place I wasn’t entirely comfortable going at the present moment.

Edward and I faked our greetings as we followed Charlie into the living room. Edward took his usual seat in the armchair, forcing Charlie and I to sit together on the sofa. We all made small-talk for awhile until I broke it up. Edward gave Charlie a small package as we got up to leave.

“It’s a gift from my family and myself,” Edward said.

Charlie eyed the box in his hands suspiciously. Edward was trying to keep his expression composed. Charlie’s eyes were wide when he finally lifted the lid. “Uh,” Charlie scratched his head, “I don’t know, Edward. This is too much.”

“You’d really be doing Carlisle a favor by going,” Edward shrugged. “It was a raffle item Carlisle won at the hospital benefit this year. He won’t be able to use it since he’s covering for Dr. Snow during the holidays.”

I had no idea what they were talking about. “What is it?” I asked.

Charlie looked little annoyed. “A four-day cruise to Alaska.”

My eyes bulged, “Wow, uh – that’s really nice…”

Charlie shook his head, “Are you sure about this?”

Edward smiled earnestly, “Of course. My parents are hopeful that you and Bella will enjoy the vacation together.”

Four days? Four days alone on a ship with Charlie? Four days alone on a ship with Charlie without Edward? “What? No,” I said.

But it was too late, Edward had already sold Charlie. “Well, geez, Edward. Thank your parents for me, will you?”

“Dad, I can’t just go –“

Edward cut me off, “We won’t have classes the rest of the week, Bella. You’ll be home before New Years.”

“Before New Years?” I gawked. “What? We’re leaving tomorrow?”

Charlie laughed, “Yeah, this will be great!” The childlike enthusiasm from the morning had returned. “I’ll get to try out my new fishing gear – and the jacket, Bells.”

I gave Edward a dirty look from the corner of my eye and pushed again for us to leave. We said our goodbyes to Charlie and then Edward helped me through the avalanche of snow to his car. The heater was already melting the snow dust on my clothes when I spoke.

“You know, I really hate that,” I huffed.

Edward looked at me.  “What?”

“Why did you set me up to go on a trip with Charlie?” I complained. “Four days?”

“Bella,” he chuckled, “You and Charlie are going to have a fine time together. And you’ve never seen Alaska.”

“Edward, I can’t leave you for four days.” It sounded as dramatic out loud as it had in my head. I hoped he didn’t think me as pathetic as I found myself to be.

He gave me an apathetic look. “I’ll be nearby,” he said softly.

I thought about that for a moment. “So you’ll be there?”

���It hurts me too, you know,” he said, even more gently. “I can’t be away from you either. I’ll be there if you need me, but I won’t get in the way.”

“Edward –“

“Bella, Charlie will have the memories of this trip to carry with him the rest of his life,” he said. “It’s the least I can do to share you with him now when I intend to keep you for an eternity.”

His words soaked in my mind and I surrendered. Of course, Edward was right. I supposed it wouldn’t be so bad spending some time with Charlie outside of the house and our regular routine. And if Edward was there, hidden out of sight, how terrible could it be? Four days? I mulled it over in my head as we turned up the long drive to the Cullens’.

The house looked as it had since December first; every eave, railing, and windowsill on the Cullens’ home was perfectly twinkling with crisp, white string lights. The bulbs were reminiscent of a more classic shape – the kind where the glass was more of a pointed, almond shaped-bulb. Every window and door had an elegant draping of evergreen garland with red ribbons and winterberry clusters, each with their own large wreath to match. The large tree in their living room was prominently glowing through the large windows at the front of the house. Even now, in the middle of the day, the house gleamed its bright light across the flat, even snow. The clouds had returned and there was a light sprinkling of snowfall dusting my shoulders as we walked to the door.

The house smelled even more delicious than it usually did, the scent of fresh gingerbread and pine in the air. A gentle thrumming of the grand piano filled the house with a Christmas song I hadn’t heard before. Rosalie was there, her delicate fingers moving across the keys, Emmett at her side on the bench. She didn’t turn her head as Emmett did to greet us.

“Hey, Bella!” He waved enthusiastically. “Merry Christmas!”

Edward lingered behind me as I moved toward the piano. “Merry Christmas, Emmett,” I smiled. “Rosalie.”

Rosalie nodded, but kept her eyes down, pretending to need the focus to play.

“That’s beautiful,” I complimented.

If I hadn’t been looking hard enough, I would have missed the small, smug smile that tugged on the edges of her lips. It was there and gone in an instant, almost too quickly for my human eyes. Emmett wrapped one arm around Rosalie’s waist as she continued to play, giving her a playful squeeze. She smiled fully then and began to transition to a new melody.

Edward took my hand and led me toward the kitchen. When we turned the corner, a gentle laugh escaped his lips.

“Ah, Bella!” Esme clapped her hands together, sending a small puff of flour dust into the air. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart!”

She and Carlisle turned to one another and laughed, pulling each other into a gentle hug. They were both lightly dusted in flour, patches of white on their faces; on Esme’s nose, Carlisle’s cheek, dusted across their foreheads and their hair. Their aprons were coated in white, too, matching the kitchen island that was covered with thick brown dough and piles of gingerbread cookies.

“Merry Christmas, Bella,” Carlisle laughed. “It seems our baking skills could use a bit more practice.”

There were burnt gingerbread men scattered about the others that were expertly decorated with intricate designs, as if crafted by expert bakers. There had to be over two-hundred cookies. “I think you’re doing a great job,” I laughed.

Edward pulled me closer to him, laughing over my head at his parents. Alice and Jasper appeared then from the staircase. Jasper had huge wrapped boxes piled in his arms as he moved into the living room, wishing me a ‘Merry Christmas’ as he passed. Alice expertly tugged me out of Edward’s arms and into hers, pulling me in for a hug.

“Merry Christmas, Bella,” she said excitedly, squeezing me tightly.

“Merry Christmas, Alice,” I chuckled.

She looked over to Carlisle and Esme, “Come on! It’s time for gifts!”

Carlisle and Esme were working to clean themselves up as Alice dragged me behind her to the living room. Rosalie was still playing at the piano and Emmett was helping Jasper arrange the surmounting pile around the towering Christmas tree. Each gift was wrapped elegantly in different hues of metallic paper. Alice plopped me down on the edge of the sofa closest to the roaring fireplace. Edward swooped me up faster than I could follow and suddenly he was under me and I was perched in his lap. He still had that excitement in his expression that made my heart stutter. He gave me a slight glance, an eyebrow raised, at the sound of it.

“Don’t worry,” Edward soothed. “I followed your rules.”

He had mistaken my heart wrenching happiness for fear. I nodded quickly, as he moved his hand delicately to tuck my hair behind my ear. He kissed my cheekbone gently as I blushed.

“Alright,” Alice complained. “Come, sit.” She ordered to the others.

Esme came to sit beside Edward and I on the long, white sofa. Carlisle sat down beside her. He was still dusting flour from her shoulders. Rosalie stopped her playing and moved to sit beside Emmett in one of the armchairs by the fire as Alice set a vinyl record on an antique player. Bing Crosby’s Christmas album started with White Christmas.

Jasper took a seat on the floor beside Carlisle’s feet and we all watched as Alice danced around the tree in a graceful blur. Her gaze was peering into the future as her hands floated over each box. She was picking the order in which the gifts would garner the best reactions. As she made her decisions, the boxes began disappearing from under the tree, reappearing in everyone’s hands. Alice begrudgingly went at a human pace to hand me mine. I sat contentedly in Edward’s lap, watching the others as they joyfully exchanged their gifts.

Jasper gifted Carlisle an antique revolver and the two were engrossed in conversation over the details; it sounded like they were interested in the history of it, rather than the use. Emmett gave Rosalie some kind of car, what kind I wasn’t sure, but it sounded fast. Rosalie was asking Emmett and Edward excitedly about the engine as she twirled the keys in her hands. Alice had given everyone clothes, of course, and she and Esme were fawning over the satin on a long skirt Alice had picked for her. Edward’s arms wrapped around me to open his gift from Carlisle and Esme; he graciously received a new leather-bound notebook, giving Esme a kiss on the cheek.

“Here,” Edward said, reaching down to pick up a gift of mine, “I’ll help you.”

There was a smirk on his lips as he exchanged a passing glance at Jasper. Emmett laughed, “Where’s the fun in that?”

I gave Emmett a dirty look as I blushed and Edward handed me something soft. I unfolded a deep blue sweater, definitely cashmere, with a plunging V neckline. My blush deepened and Edward smiled.

“It looks great on you, Bella,” Alice said reassuringly.

“Mmm,” Edward hummed, seeing whatever image Alice had in her head.

I nodded, still weary. “Thanks, Alice.”

She rolled her eyes in response. We continued like that for awhile; Edward opened all my gifts for me and handed them to me one-by-one. I was mostly engrossed with what everyone else was doing.

Rosalie and Esme sat on the couch beside us, combing through a photo album Rosalie had put together for Esme with photos of the family throughout the decades. Esme would share all of the photos of Edward with me as she came across them. Edward gave Alice her yellow Porsche, as promised, from our trip to Italy in the summer. I felt a fleeting pass of dread remembering the trip. The feeling disappeared as quickly as it had come and I gave Jasper an appreciative glance.

Carlisle gifted Esme some property in Northern Idaho with a promise to visit soon to plan her next building project. Emmett was gleefully going through his assortment of fireworks; Esme was exchanging looks with Edward, probably checking to make sure Emmett wasn’t going to get overly excited and start setting them off in the house. Alice had hand-drawn scenes of the London of Carlisle’s youth, and the two were sitting by the fire admiring the large framed sketches. Jasper was reading the backs of the piles of CDs Edward and I had given him, along with a large and expensive looking CD player. Edward was chatting with Rosalie about her gift to him; something about a new engine and some other car stuff that went over my head.

Alice looked over to me, “Bella, did you want to give Edward your gift?”

I had forgotten in all the chaos of paper, the gentle whisper of Bing Crosby, the fluttering of snow falling outside, the glow of the Christmas tree, the crackle of the fire, and the hum of everyone’s happy conversation, that I had a gift I was actually excited to give to Edward.

“Oh,” I said, moving to stand. Edward held me in my place. Alice was there then, my gift for Edward in her hands. I reached out to take it from her, placing it in Edward’s hands. I settled into his lap so that I could see his face.

“I’ve been careful not to think about it around him,” Alice promised, biting her lip in anticipation.

I felt everyone’s eyes on us both as Edward began to tear at the paper. I had been getting his gift ready long before I even realized it. Each time we had taken trips to our meadow, I had been pressing flowers in the pages of whatever book I had carried along. It had been a long time since we had visited in the warm summer months. I didn’t have a use for the flowers in mind when I began collecting them, but there was something about bringing a piece of our refuge home that always felt right. I had worried about what to give Edward for Christmas until I remembered my hoard.

Edward held the delicate frame in his hands, an expression on his face I didn’t recognize. Alice had helped me with the matting and framing, but I managed to arrange the dried flowers into a neat array myself. It did look a bit feminine, now that I was looking at it in his hands.

He suddenly stunned me, flashing his perfect teeth in a wide, exultant grin. Edward brought a hand to cup my cheek tenderly.

“I love you,” he said proudly.

I blushed. “I love you.”

Edward kissed me gently, bringing a brighter blush to my expression. I kept my eyes on my hands when he moved his lips from mine to continue examining his gift.

He turned to me again, “Am I allowed to give you my gift?”

A new dread washed over me. “That depends,” my tone was serious now.

The others in the room laughed lightly with him. Edward reached behind the couch then, handing me a small wrapped package. I weighed it in my hands for a moment. It had a weight to it that seemed solid. I looked at him with questioning eyes.

“I mentioned I’d followed your rules, didn’t I?” He said grinning.

I didn’t fully believe he’d followed the rules. Something about his tone, his expression made me question him. I had made it very clear that if I was to spend Christmas with the Cullens, that I would not be accepting any exorbitant gifts from anyone, especially Edward. We had set a limit on what was reasonable and what was not. Property, vacations, vehicles and anything with more than two zeroes tagged on to the end of the price tag were out of bounds. And I had to really negotiate down to the two zeroes.

I sighed, defeated by the bright expression in his golden eyes. “Okay.”

I heard a quick tear and the paper was removed from the box I held in my hands. Edward tried to control his coy grin as he shrugged. “Just in case.”

I rolled my eyes and lifted the lid on the small box. At first, I felt relieved to find a single book inside. It looked very old and the cover seemed to have a few light cracks. I looked at Edward for reassurance as I went to pick it up. He nodded in encouragement. I picked it up gently, turning it to its spine to read the title. It felt very old, too. Of course it was Wuthering Heights.

I gingerly opened the cover to find out just how old it was. My eyes caught the author, Ellis Bell, and my eyes bulged. I started to get angry; I saw Edward’s eyes flicker to Jasper and back.

“Edward,” I scolded. “You definitely did not follow the rules!”

Edward chuckled, “Of course I did, Bella. Truly, the box it’s in cost me more.”

I shook my head vigorously. “This is – this is – what is this?” I scanned the inside cover again for the publishing date. “1847?” I said too loudly.

Everyone was chuckling again, even Rosalie.

“Honestly, Bella,” Edward ran a hand through his hair, “I simply asked Carlisle if he would part with it.”

I flashed an accusatory look at Carlisle. He nodded in agreement.

“It’s something I’ve had in my collection,” Carlisle laughed lightly, “I promise you, Bella.”

I tenderly closed the book and placed it back in the box, holding my hands up. I shook my head, “This is too much – is this a first edition?”

Edward shrugged, “The American first edition.”

I didn’t know the history of the Brontë sisters perfectly or Emily in particular. I tried to figure out the math in my head. I was overwhelmed.

Edward looked at me inquisitively. “Do you like it?”

I was in shock. I just stared at it motionless. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“She likes it,” Jasper said, reading my emotions.

Edward held me tightly, planting a kiss on my neck below my ear, bringing me out of my momentary lapse of motor function. I thanked him breathlessly, later thanking Carlisle for releasing this priceless piece from his collection for me. I was only slightly suspicious that they were all in on a lie. I chose to go along with it. In truth, I did love it. And I made a deal with Edward that I would accept the gift under the condition that I left it at the Cullens for safe keeping.

We all sat in the living room for a long while, chatting about our gifts and admiring the thought behind each one. The gift exchange between the Cullens was a bit less extravagant than I’d imagined it to be – though only slightly less. Each gift seemed to have meaning behind it. After all, no one here needed anything.

I only moved from Edward’s lap when Esme asked him to play at the piano. Rosalie joined him at the bench and sang along softly. When Edward transitioned to a very flourished rendition of Jingle Bells Emmett chimed in voraciously and the angelic whisper of Rosalie’s voice was quickly lost. With pleasant laughter, everyone slowly dispersed throughout the room; Alice and Rosalie collected all the paper and ribbons, Carlisle tended the fire, and Jasper and Emmett joined Edward at the piano for more loud Christmas caroling. Esme joined me at the tree and shared the history of each ornament as I pointed them out to her. Eventually, Alice and Rosalie made their way out to the garage to view their shiny new gifts.

Suddenly the piano and singing stopped and Edward, Jasper, Carlisle, and Emmett were gone. Esme laughed loudly, taking my hand softly and guiding me towards the front window.

“I think it’s best that we stay inside,” she patted my back, smiling to herself as we looked into the front yard.

It was difficult for my eyes to catch any of it, but I could certainly hear the impact of snow and ice exploding against the tall cedars, making them quake. I could see one of them, every now and then, stopping abruptly to change course, launching another snowball. They were all dashing across the open field, laughing and calling loudly to one another. I could barely follow along. I thought back to the baseball game in the clearing as my heart swelled with joy. Esme and I watched from the window, delighted laughter spilling from our lips.

Esme turned to me, taking my hand in both of hers.

“Sweet, Bella,” she cooed. “You have given us the greatest gift. You may not see the changes we see in our Edward, but you have truly brought him to life.”

The look in her eyes burned with elation. I had to look away; her words filled me with an overwhelming urge to cry. Esme pulled me close to her side as we continued to look out the window. I saw Edward then, dashing through the snow with a triumphant smile. I had never seen anything so enchanting.

Esme had to break up the war eventually; she and Rosalie were going to deliver cookies and Christmas dinners to families in Seattle. Carlisle was filling in for Dr. Snow at the hospital as promised, and left after he’d changed into dry clothes. Jasper, Alice, and Emmett had made plans to hunt; apparently it was a good time to go since most people were home instead of on the trails on Christmas Day. I was disappointed when the house was empty and Edward was making invisible trips to the car to fill it with my Christmas gifts, but I had to be back at Charlie’s by four.

I was surprised that we had made it back to the house before him; Charlie must have been having a nice time in La Push. Edward unloaded the car after he carried me through the thick tundra Alice had left on my lawn. I was getting my small Christmas dinner ready for Charlie, myself, and Edward­ –who would politely pretend to eat with us– when Edward came into the kitchen.

I heard him behind me and turned to face him. He was closer than I thought he would be; his lips were only inches from mine. His sweet aroma brought me closer to him. I barely noticed he had his arm stretched above our heads.

“No Christmas is complete without mistletoe, I hear,” he said, his voice velvet.

I glanced up. He was holding a small bushel above us.

“Mmm,” I murmured, pulling myself to him, reaching my arms to wrap them around his neck.

Edward wrapped one strong arm around me, lifting my feet off the floor. I was pressed to his body; it felt like I was melting into snow. A shiver ran through me and I twisted my fingers in his hair. Our lips met, silk to stone, as we kissed under the mistletoe.

____

This story is from a set of shorts, which you can find here:

READ PART ONE HERE

READ PART TWO HERE

[dsoe-masteroftheheavenlyyard]

Chapter 11, Section 1–Re_Birthday; Scene 2

master of the heavenly yard pages 237-244

Ma could sense that the wind had picked up.

Interesting, that though her body was that of a soul, she was able to feel the movement of the wind like this.

But that was because she had taken in Riliane and the other contractors.

Ma could not become a “soul” as she was now. To keep herself from being erased, she needed the help of other spirits.

And that help—the shell that protected her—was still not complete.

Over time, Ma’s spirit was steadily growing weaker.

--This deterioration had begun the moment that she gave birth to Nemesis.

This was only natural given that Ma had removed Levia, one of the pieces that she was comprised of.

And this had been accelerated by shifting Irina’s spirit into the doll…And then right before the world was destroyed, she finally lost Eve. Though she did have some reparation by receiving the “Doll Director’s” mercy.

After possessing Riliane, Ma could do nothing but sleep for a time. If she were to assert her own consciousness while in this weak shell that Riliane represented, she would use up her spirit in the blink of an eye, and disappear.

By taking advantage of all of the contractors with aptitude being assembled and taking them into herself all at once, Ma had finally gotten her hands on a solid shell, and was able to operate under her own will again.

However, it still wasn’t complete. This shell had a tiny hole in it.

Ma’s spirit was leaking from this hole, and spreading as this black vortex.

…She would need to plug the hole. To keep herself from vanishing.

For that reason, she needed Nemesis.

It was clear she needed to hurry, but all the same she couldn’t afford to act too hastily.

Whatever the case was, Ma had suffered an embarrassing defeat at Nemesis’ hands once before. She would have to avoid repeating the same mistakes.

The theater had vanished. She could no longer depend upon the mercy of the “Doll Director”.

What was more…Ma could guess that Nemesis had regained some of her previous memories.

Considering she was working along this boy before her—Allen—then at the very least it was likely that Nemesis had recovered her memories as “Elluka Clockworker”.

So then, she ought to be prepared for her to resist using magic.

…Leaving that aside.

Ma stopped thinking about Nemesis and once more focused on Allen.

--Why had he come here now? Right when she’d thought he’d been idly chatting with her, he’d raised his sword as though preparing to fight…And yet despite all that, no matter how much time passed, he never made the first strike.

She pondered what she would do if she was Elluka—the being that Ma had once shared a mind and body with.

…He may be stalling for time for her to make an inscription!

Ma quickly fired lightning at Allen again.

The poorly aimed shot was easily deflected, but that didn’t matter.

She spread her wings and prepared to fly up into the sky.

--She had to get out of here, now!          

“…I guess you’ve figured out our plan. And yet…you’re a bit too late.”

Allen cheekily smiled.

The roar of the wind grew intense.

Ma’s body floated from the ground. –But that wasn’t because she was flapping her wings.

“Come now, Lady Ma. Let’s go, shall we—on a journey to the sky.”

As Allen spoke…the two of them were sent spiraling high by a tornado.

.

  --As she was soaring high, tossed about by the wind…Allen saw something conjured up from Ma’s hand, and go tumbling down.

That’s…

As it continued to go around in an uneven pattern inside the tornado, it gradually grew closer to where Allen was.

Without thinking, he seized it.

.

As he was blown away, Allen’s body finally came to a stop in midair—and then started to steadily fall towards the ground.

An enormous flying creature raced towards him at breakneck speeds.

“Allen!”

Riding atop Eater, Nemesis stuck out her hand against the furious wind.

Allen just barely managed to grip her hand, saving himself from crashing.

“Phew…Looks like you pulled it off, Nemesis.”

“Let’s get out of range of the spell!”

The gale spell that Nemesis had unleashed was amplified by her inscriptions, and now it raged as though it were a storm.

Inside it, it was taking everything Eater had just to maintain his altitude.

Once Eater had reached a spot outside the inscription where the wind was much weaker, Allen turned around and looked at the storm.

The tornado was funneling up dirt and sand in the heart of the gale.

If all went well, Ma would be unable to get herself out from inside it.

…But Nemesis had a clouded expression on her face.

“It’s not good enough. I guess my magic really is less effective against a soul.”

“Has it failed?”

“We’ve confined her for now. But to get closer for the time being is impossible without weakening the power of the spell…Hm? What’s that?”

Nemesis noticed that Allen had a small bottle in his right hand.

“Oh, this? …I scooped it up in the tornado just now. It came out of her hand when she was caught up in the wind—”

“By her, you mean…Ma?”

“No, this…I think this is Riliane’s doing.”

The memory of the small bottle that only Allen and Riliane knew—that whenever Riliane wanted something, she would take a piece of parchment with her wish written on it, put it in a glass bottle just like this one, and then hand it to Allen.

Right now, there was a rolled-up piece of paper in the bottle that Allen held. He took it out and opened it.

“…Heh. Hahaha…”

It was a message written by Riliane. When he saw it, Allen suddenly burst into laughter.

“What’s it say?” Nemesis asked.

“What do you think it says?”

“Assuming it’s the same pattern…’Forget about me, defeat Ma!’, or something like that?”

“No, ha ha…Well, see for yourself.”

Allen held open the paper for Nemesis to see.

On it was—

.

“Make sure you save me!”

.

--Just that, written with rough letters.

“Isn’t that so like her?” Allen said, chuckling again. ”I bet she never once considered sacrificing herself to save the world.”

“…And yet, you seem happy about that, Allen.”

“Yeah. You see, it means that she believes in me.”

“Sigh…What a silly pair of siblings you are,” Nemesis sighed, stupefied.

--But then the two of them quickly grew stern.

The force of the wind was weakening. The tornado at the center was slowly getting smaller.

Nemesis hadn’t lifted the spell.

Ma…also had Elluka’s memories.

So naturally, she would also know how to undo her magic. Neither Allen nor Nemesis had thought of that.

“At this rate…Nothing else we can do. This’ll be a bit of a gamble, but we can try a kamikaze atta—”

“—Wait a second, Nemesis. ...Do you hear something?”

When Allen said that, Nemesis strained her ears.

.

“—Lu li la, lu li la.”

.

Someone was—singing.

It resounded far and wide, to where they could hear it even through the roaring wind….And yet, the melody seemed gentle…

This “Clockwork Lullaby”.

.

The two of them knew very well the person singing that song.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[hqprotectionsquad]

Dear Chikara (Ennoshita x Reader)

Title: Dear Chikara Pairing: Ennoshita x Reader Word Count: 2416 A/N: Definitely a self-indulgent piece, but hey, it’s for Ennoshita. He always deserves my self-indulgent ideas.

“You’re really still trying to find a pen pal, (Y/N)?” Atsumu asks when he peers over your shoulder. “Doesn’t that kind of stuff get a little old?” He clicks his tongue. From the corner of your eye, you see that he settles into the seat next to you, munching on a piece of onigiri. It’s lunchtime at Inarizaki and all the students are out and about the building and courtyards, but all you’re focused on is this piece of mail that you received in the morning. This is the first chance you had and you’re ready to slide a finger underneath the adhesive and open this bad boy up.

“Yes, really,” you reply pointedly. “You know I’ve wanted one since, like, middle school.” Pulling the prized letter of its sheath, you unfold the paper, pressing it hard against the desk to squash the creases.

“Can I see too?” Atsumu presses his shoulder against yours and it takes both of your hands to get him off you.

“You’re still going to look, so why do you ask?”

“I dunno. Don’t you think it’s nice of me to ask anyway?”

Hi (Y/N),

My name is Ennoshita Chikara. I’m a second year at Karasuno High School in the Miyagi Prefecture—

Your perfect letter reading is disturbed by Atsumu making noises next to you. “He’s from Karasuno! I’m just wondering if he knows anything about the volleyball team. Ya know,” he wags his finger. “Karasuno’s been building up steam. We’re gonna have to watch them, so if you could just gather some tapes on—”

“Atsumu, you’re the one interrupting my lunch, not the other way around.”

“Okay, sure you can say that, but you haven’t even touched your lunch, (Y/N). So can I have—”

“Shh!” You hold up a hand and when you don’t hear another word from him, your eyes are brought back to the paper.

I’m a second year at Karasuno High School in the Miyagi Prefecture. I am in one of the college preparatory classes for my year. They’re hard, but I work harder. I really enjoy my anatomy class and I also like to make short films with my friends. After school, I go to volleyball practice. I’m a wing spiker, but I’m not on the court often—

“Psst. Atsumu.” When he doesn’t look up from his phone, you tap repeatedly on his shoulder. “Hey, it says my pen pal is on the volleyball team.”

“How cute. Hey! Maybe you two can be star-crossed lovers or something like that if our teams ever face each other.”

“Shut up, Atsumu. Don’t make me tell you — again — that your brother is the better twin.”

"Oi, Ennoshita! Watch this!" Nishinoya calls out to his teammate. The hour hand on the clock will be hitting 3 soon, when practice begins for the afternoon.

Ennoshita's sitting with his back to the wall and his eyes peer up from the words he's reading. He can never trust Nishinoya and Tanaka to do something together at the same time because they'll get someone hurt — that or they'll praise Kiyoko as a goddess.

Nishinoya runs to jump onto Tanaka's back, and in the split second that Ennoshita looks back down, they fall like bowling pins and crash to the ground.

"Nishinoya, Tanaka, what are you doing?" He abandons the letter, placing it to the side, before standing up to scold these two teenagers that act like children.

Nishinoya and Tanaka shake Ennoshita as they laugh at his stern eyebrows and his hands on his hips. Out of the corner of his eye, Nishinoya looks at the place his friend just sat and walks over.

"Hey, what's this?" Nishinoya asks as he picks up the paper. It bounces as he raises it up, with the tri-fold creases flowing up and down. His question is purely innocent, but it’s easily turned into a teasing nature when he sees the weight it holds in Ennoshita’s life.

"Wait, don't look!" Ennoshita rushes with his hand outstretched.

"'Dear Chikara, my name is (Y/N). I’m also your age. I live in the Hyogo Prefecture,'" Nishinoya announces to the world and when Ennoshita grabs for it, Tanaka takes the hint and gets to the letter first.

"What kind of letter is this?" Tanaka laughs while running across the gym. The baldie has always been ahead of Ennoshita in athletics, and even more so in pranks. "Is this a sexy letter? Chikara, I didn't know you were into that!" Their chuckles resound throughout the gym and now that the two knuckleheads are involved, the third years are trying to settle them down.

Finally, Daichi gets a hold of the letter and all Ennoshita wants is to run to the storage room with his letter and just sit there, recovering from his overworked heart. “Get ready. Ukai’s coming soon and he’ll make us run more if he sees you going around like that.” Sure enough, the captain’s words make them shudder from the chills and they stop moving so much. “Here, you should probably put that away before they rip it.”

“Thank you.” With a shy grin, Ennoshita takes one last look at it before putting it with his water bottle and towel.

I’m really glad you sent me a letter, so I’ll continue to send one as long as you do. I’m from Inarizaki High. According to one of the boys on the volleyball team that I manage, we might see you at some point. Maybe if you reach Nationals.

Sure, it’s only your first letters to each other, but Ennoshita wants to do anything in his power so that he will be able to see you in person.

And so it goes. You chase the mailman on weekends to see if the mail came in, but not just any mail — a specific cream-colored envelope written to you with the return address starting with the name Ennoshita Chikara. You hear from Ennoshita that he waits for his dad to come home from work with the letters from the mailbox. He laughs because you say all you have at home are pink envelopes, but he’ll snatch it right away to run up the stairs to his bedroom. He’ll cherish the first time he reads the letter, because he says it will ever be new again except for the first time. He can read it again to reference things for the next time he writes to you, but “it’s just not the same.”

You learn tiny things about him. Tiny things that make it easy to want to get to know him better, and those tiny things would probably make you fall in love with him if you knew him in person. But it’s different, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you be learning how he likes his ramen or curry on a date together?

Still, you’ve learned that being pen pals with him is better than not knowing him at all.

Chikara, are you afraid of something? I think what I’ve learned over the years is that I can’t afford to be afraid when I’m going to die one day. There’s no point in being scared someone might not like my company or avoiding an activity because I might not be good at it. I might as well try, right?

Thank you for your letter before. I think what you said cheered me up. I’m glad you enjoy keeping your teammates straight as much as I do with the boys on the Inarizaki team. Listen, since I’m learning how to be fearless, here is my number. When you read this part for the first time. Call me, I want to hear your voice.

He does call you. He doesn’t bother thinking of drafting another letter or how to respond to your question about fearing the world.

As he sits on the edge of his bed, Ennoshita taps in the digits you provided at the end of the letter. Even your numbers are a combination of neat and messy, but it’s all legible. After pressing call, it rings and rings and rings, up until the point he’s afraid you’re not available. But he wants to stay true to what you wrote and what you wrote is to call you when you see the letter.

It goes through and he’s bold enough to offer a hello but he’s met with silence. You’re probably there, so he says it again and even adds, “It’s me, Chikara.” Finally, you aren’t answering back, so Ennoshita finishes by telling you, “I know you’re there, (Y/N), but it’s okay if you won’t talk to me. I’ll trust that you’ll come to me in your own time.” Reluctantly, he hits the end call button.

You want to scream. Shout. Open your window and expel expletives into the neighborhood, not caring about who bothers to hear. Literally do anything you can because you’re a complete idiot. You’re the one who gave him your phone number, yet you don’t even respond? What kind of loser are you to do that?

From your bed, you rise to your feet and start to pace the length of your room for what seems like hours, but in reality was just a few minutes. You realize the root problem is that you’re scared of him judging you. You don’t know him outside all of the detailed and wonderful notes he mails you every week or so, but who knows if he’s completely different than the person he presents on paper?

But...if you don’t call him back now, will you ever grow the courage to do it again?

After all, you’re an Inarizaki student. You might not always need reminders of the past, but as for the future, you’re always up for a new challenge, even if it scares you because you’ve embarrassed yourself.

Maybe he felt this way when you didn’t say anything when he was on the line, but that doesn’t mean you should just leave it at that. You don’t take anything else for chance and just go for it.

You’re back to pacing your room, but at least now you’re dialing the digits of his phone number. “Hey Chikara, I know you’re probably there since you picked up, but I just want to say I’m a total idiot for picking up earlier and not saying anything. I’m pretty embarrassed about it and I’m sorry for all of that. Like come on, I was the one who sent you my number, but—”

You pause in your steps, hearing something unfamiliar, something that isn’t just you rambling your head off. “Chikara, is that you? Did you just laugh?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, so you were listening this whole time?”

Another laugh comes and it flows out like smooth butter dissolving into a searing pan, or like wind on the perfect summer day, or really anything that is smooth. It’s perfect. It’s him.

“Yeah, I was. Sorry for not responding right away. I just wanted to hear what your voice sounded like.” When you hear this, you’re not only flattered, but you also are forced to take a look at yourself. Was this part of the reason why you didn’t want to take a step forward and speak back to him during his first call?

There’s an awkward silence and you’re wondering if he’s still on the line because he’s bored and has nothing else to do except to talk to a pen pal who’s on the other side of the nation.

“I—”

“I—”

“Sorry, you first.”

“Oh, I was just going to say that I really like your voice.” Your confession brings about a red color to dust over your cheeks and you can’t even deny the way you feel when you hear his calm voice flickering out from your speaker.

As if your face couldn’t get any more colorful, Chikara quips back, “I could say the same about yours.” You slap a hand over your mouth and then your other for reinforcement as you mutter incoherent things into your flesh. You roll your lips into your mouth to help you stop smiling, but you can’t. If you were to live in a particular moment forever, you’d choose this one.

Now, you can’t stop laughing. Between the jokes he lands, and the descriptions of his own volleyball team, it’s finally nice to get to know someone who isn’t trying to be your friend as a way to get to Atsumu, or trying to get your math homework—not that it’s any good, anyway.

What you don’t notice outside of your bubble of this phone call is that the sun outside your bedroom window has begun to set and descend farther into the horizon. You don’t notice that your room has become exponentially dimmer without the warmth of the sun; your desk lamp is no match for the glowing star.

Soon enough, with your ear pressed against your phone and your head on your pillow, everything feels right. Maybe this is dream land, or as close to it as you can get.

“Knock, knock” is what your dad says before coming into your room. It’s annoying, but at least he doesn’t barge into your room like Atsumu and Osamu would when your parents let them into the house. “You have to get off your phone now; it’s nearly one in the morning and you still have school tomorrow.”

“Okay, dad. Thanks.” You can tell he wants to ask who you’ve been laughing with on the phone, but maybe he’ll avoid asking you the question. The last thing he wants to know is that his daughter’s interested in another person. The last thing you want him to know is that this person has been sending you letters for the past three months. 

The door is closed softly, and you chuckle. There’s a shakiness to your laughter that hurts your soul. “You heard my dad.”

“I know. It was really wonderful talking to you, (Y/N).” Before you can put in a word, he continues, “I want to talk to you more, if that’s okay with you.”

“That’s okay. That’s more than okay.” You’re truly privileged to have found your perfect pen pal. You want to start spewing goodbye’s because otherwise, you’ll never find the heart to hit the end call button. “Hey, Chikara?”

“Yeah?” He responds almost too quickly and this brings about another laugh for you both.

“Make sure you work really hard, okay? I want to see you at Nationals.”

“I want to see you too. We’ll be there.”

general haikyuu tag list: @dorkyama​ @kingkags​ @clowninfortodoroki​​ @ykchaos​​ @kingkagss​​ @alienvarmint​​ @gogohaikyuu​

special tag for @hunntea​ <3

please let me know if you’d like to be removed from the tag list via ask!

navi! | master list | tag list form

[tenmillionwhumperflies]

Cloudwalker Series: Part 1

Okay, so let’s get the ball rolling with a part 1. I’ll try and post at least once a week, but if people want to ask me questions then I’ll happily answer asks on that and I might do a BTHB soon as well.

So this involved human-like creatures being badly neglected, including mentioning some of these creatures have been mutilated (wing and horn removal), the selling of said creatures, and a fairly creepy owner. If there is anything else I should mark this as, please let me know.

Master-list Here

Approx WC: 1900

He walked into the square like he owned it, and he could have if he wanted to. Everyone there knew it and they kept out of his path, hiding, bowing, doing what they thought was best to survive. He followed the signs and sounds of cries to the marketplace where the cloudwalkers were kept. The air buzzed with energy and suffering, and the smell was strong and foul. He was ready to take one for his own, but finding one… interesting enough, was the challenge. He had all day to look, and this was not a decision he was willing to rush. He had a feeling he’d know when he saw it.

“You there,” he called out to a handler. The handler’s eyes almost popped out of his head when he recognised him. He was a young man, but strong, gruff, and iron-fisted. The cloudwalkers all flinched and ducked as he passed, and yet he melted in Avizon’s presence. Avizon loved the rush of power it made him feel. He was the strongest one here, and he would get what he wanted.

“Avizon! W.what can I do for you, your greatness?”

Avizon smirked. So his reputation as an ‘evil sorcerer’ had reached this far into the land. “I want a pet, I was wondering if you could guide me in the right direction.” “I will certainly try. I.is there something in particular you’re looking for?”

“There are a few things, yes.”

Avizon gestured for them to begin walking, and he took in the sight of the cloudwalkers in their cages. Cages that were too small, even for the poor creatures who had lost their wings. He saw the wild look of fear in their eyes as he passed, the look of a wild animal. That’s all they really were, animals, creatures beneath humans and certainly beneath him. The majority of these creatures were no good to him. Their wings were missing, or badly damaged. He needed feathers, and a pet that wasn’t so traumatised and flinchy under his touch.

“What is your name?” Avizon asked the handler. “Archer, your greatness.”

“Well, Archer, I want a cloudwalker, something… fresh, one with their wings and horns, preferably male.” “We have several fresh captures, but they are less broken and only half-trained.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. Take me to them.”

Archer led the way deeper into the market, past more cages and customers, to a closed-off section. He unlocked it and allowed Avizon to enter first.

“If I had known you were coming, I would have had this area cleaned, it is so rare for customers to enter here.”

Indeed, it did need cleaning, the smell of blood and filth was somewhat overpowering, but he could tolerate it. His own dungeons had a reputation for smelling the same.

“We have three new products this month. That one over there was in a fight before we caught it, so it’s still recovering from the fall. We haven’t really started training it yet if you want to start from fresh. This one is a right weakling. Trained him within two full days of work. He aims to please, that’s for sure. He’s getting moved outside in the morning.”

Avizon took a long look at the ‘weakling’. With white feathers and soft brown hair. He had large innocent eyes, already filled with tears and one horn. He looked perfectly adorable, but for now he kept walking, seeing a cloudwalker chained against the far wall, by a collar and a shackle on either wrist. His black wings, outstretched and held in clamps, were a little more uncommon. Not as rare as speckled wings, but special enough.

“What about that one? I thought you said they had their horns.”

“Oh, they do, your greatness.” Archer walked over to the creature, who snarled behind the muzzle, but Archer grabbed him by the hair. Avizon approached curiously despite the creature snarling and snapping in Archer’s grip. Archer moved some of their thick contrasting white hair, revealing a tiny horn, maybe an inch in length. They had some growing to do if they were to curl around their head like the horns on a ram.

“This one’s a lot younger than the others. The equivalent of our early twenties. It’s got an attitude, but I am confident it is breakable. I was able get a few commands into its thick skull.”

Avizon nodded slowly, and Arched took the creature by the jaw to force them to look up at Avizon so he could examine him. His eyes were wild, but not just with fear. Avizon could sense this one had a real spirit in him, a spark. He did like a challenge, but there was one problem.

“You cut his hair?” Avizon asked, seeing that his usually long hair was cut very short.

“I'm afraid it’s too hard to manage the hair, so we get rid of it and sell it on while it’s fine.”

Avizon wasn’t impressed. cloudwalkers were meant to have hair down to their hips, sometimes down to their feet. It was almost as depressing for them as taking their horns or wings, only less painful. If he was getting a cloudwalker, he wanted him to look like one.

“I want this one.” He said, gesturing to the black-winged one. “What is his name?”

“Its wild name is Ihuka, but of course, you can name it whatever you like.”

“Ihuka...” he sampled the word on his tongue. He liked it. He nodded and passed over a gold piece as motivation. “Prep them for me- they’ll be walking alongside my horse. You can have the rest of the payment later.”

Archer grinned and ruffled the creature’s hair, which only made them angrier, but a stinging yank silenced them. Avizon approached the softer cloudwalker, the scared one and gently stroked his hair to pass the time. He whimpered, but Avizon steered clear of his clearly sore horn, or what was left of it. He saw the stump clearly where it had been sawed off and blood remained where they'd hacked away at it. Avizon suppressed his anger as the creature leaned into the touch with a soft whimper. He was older as his one horn was almost a third of the way grown. Seeing the creature so compliant, trying to lean against his leg, seeing the welts on his skin. It pulled at a heartstring Avizon didn’t know he had. 

He wanted a cloudwalker for a steady supply of feathers for his spells and company. He’d only intended to buy one, a challenge to work with, but the idea of having one already manageable was too tempting. He did have two very different needs after all. He had space, and he could easily afford it. Besides, they were social creatures. A little company would do them some good if he was away.

“Change of plan, I’ll have two. I want this one also.”

“Yes, your greatness. Is this one to walk as well?”

Avizon looked down at his legs, the cuts, deeper and more sore looking than Ihuka’s. He'd had two full days of training and the injuries showed. He looked exhausted, but seemed well behaved enough. “No, this one can ride with me. Does he have a wild name?”

“Not that we know of.”

Avizon looked down at him and scratched behind his ear, which made him arch his neck. “I’ll think of something.”

Avizon watched as Archer struggled to force Ihuka’s wings out of the clamps that had held them wide open and into a cramped leather harness to keep them restrained. Ihuka managed to get a wing free, hit Archer hard in the face, and scramble back as far as their collar would allow. “You little-” Archer snarled. The cloudwalker by Avizon whimpered in fear. 

“Please, allow me to assist,” Avizon said. He patted the brown-haired cloudwalker on the head and approached Ihuka. Like a wild animal, Ihuka snarled and showed his sharpened fangs, which, behind a muzzle, were useless. Avizon was not afraid. “You said they were partially trained?” “It knows what the words mean, it’s taking a while to make it do as it’s told though. So far, it knows come, stay, kneel and follow.”

Avizon pointed to the ground by his foot. “Ihuka, come!”

Ihuka snarled again and inched back. Avizon smirked and used his powers with a flick of his hand, sending an invisible force to pull him closer when he didn’t do as he was told. It sent Ihuka into a blind panic, confused by what was happening.

“Get the harness,” Avizon said, and Archer obeyed. 

It was easy for Avizon to use his magic to force Ihuka to neatly fold their wings, and for Archer to secure them in the leather harness, tying it tight and buckling it up. Ihuka shrieked like something possessed, trying in vain to thrash. Avizon had perfect control over him, and he knew that he’d be able to manage him quite easily.

“I appreciate the help, your greatness,” Archer huffed with relief when he was done securing him. A blindfold and a different type of muzzle with a bit to quieten them finished the process. Ihuka’s hands were tied in front of him and his hands were wrapped in a thick cloth, tucked under the manacles to stop them using their claws.

“This one certainly is wild, I’m impressed.”

Avizon turned back to the brown-haired cloudwalker that whined and lowered themselves down. Seeing Avizon use his powers had clearly scared him. He inched back, trembling.

“You’re not in trouble, little pet.”

Avizon approached, stunned at how docile he was when he took the muzzle off himself. He’d brought his own, a leather one that was far more comfortable than the metal ones. He’d only brought one, but he trusted this cloudwalker would be less trouble. He deserved the nicer muzzle. The cloudwalker backed off as best he could as he approached with the piece, and he dared to hiss, but that was all. Firm, but considerate hands kept him still until it was fastened. It wasn’t practical to punish them yet, not until they were back at the palace if anything. He wanted an easy journey, and he was a considerate man. These creatures didn’t know who they were dealing with yet. So Avizon patted his head as a reward. “Good.”

Avizon noted the areas where this one was missing feathers on his white wings, great bloody chunks. It was no surprise when he thrashed and panicked as Archer released his wings. Avizon used his magic again but stroked his hair as he slowly folded his wings for him and had them restrained properly. It did help to calm him a little but he whimpered and mewled in fear. “Good boy… I think I will call you Dyan.”

“An excellent name,” Archer said. Avizon rolled his eyes. Bootlicker.

Avizon attached a strong leash to Dyan’s collar since their hands were behind his back for the journey. He would fix that later and tie them around his front once they were on the horse so he had to hug him to hold on. Avizon used gentle magic to help Dyan to his feet, and then looked back to Archer who was battling to make Ihuka walk forward, but revealing his curved knife was more than enough incentive. Ihuka followed behind with his head down. He was going to be an interesting one, Avizon could feel it.

“Come. We have a long journey ahead.”

Sorry it’s so long, but I hope you found this interesting.

[emberbent]

Book 3: Water | Chapter 2: Justified

While Tenok prepared for his sabbatical at the university, Amrit made use of the free time they had before Shinza started training to set a meeting with the chief of the Northern Water Tribe. It was late morning, and he found her sitting cross-legged on her bed, meditating. He was just about to quietly back away when she opened her eyes. “I’m ready when you are.” 

She met him at the full-length mirror and straightened out the fabric of the blue tunic she’d found waiting for her in her closet. The clothing itself wasn’t overly formal - just Northern, fashion-forward everyday wear - but Shinza seemed giddy nonetheless to be wearing it. Besides, the clothes she’d brought from home were far too casual, and she didn’t yet have a set of fancy Avatar meeting clothes like Amrit did.

“Actually, I have something for you before we go.” He handed her an object wrapped in fine red silk. Gingerly, she unwrapped the cloth and uttered a little sound as she lifted the flame-shaped headpiece. He went on, “The Fire Sages brought it to me on the Island. It’s --”

“Roku’s headpiece,” she murmured. She traced her finger along the gilded swirl that made up one of the flames. As she did, Roku’s memories came over her: accepting the artifact as a gift from Prince Sozin; sliding the pin through his topknot before his marriage ceremony; setting it on his bedside table on the last night he was alive. The piece was poignantly familiar, and seeing it again was bittersweet. She asked Amrit, “Why now?”

“I’ve been saving it for your first meeting with a world leader. Can I?”

“Please.” She bent a little so he could fit the piece around her topknot and slide the pin through. She turned to look at herself in the mirror, carefully adjusting the flames and straightening her posture. “How do I look?”

“Official,” he replied fondly. “Ready?”

_____

Once they arrived at the palace, six guards melted the icy fortress gate and allowed them passage. As they watched the impressive volume of ice rapidly melt into the mote below, Shinza elbowed Amrit.

“This had better not be as awkward as our last meeting,” she intoned.

Amrit scoffed and elbowed her back. “That was a one-time thing, okay? Get off me.”

A palace official received them and led them across the vast, snowy courtyard, where the Chief of the Northern Water Tribe waited for them. 

“Chief Yinnak,” the official bowed. Shinza and Amrit followed suit. “Please meet our Avatar, Shinza Kwon of Republic City, and her advisor, Amrit Han of the Island of the Sun Warriors.”

“It’s my pleasure to meet you both,” welcomed the chief, a pleasant and round-faced adolescent with jubilant eyes the color of the sea at high tide. “Please call me Yinnak. I hope you’re hungry - my staff has prepared a lunch for us.”

The two of them followed the chief as they led them through the atrium, pristine as crystal with carved ice statues of the animal spirits that kept watch over the tribe. Having an affinity for the culture, Shinza liked to thumb through her old university textbooks just to look at the pictures. She knew she’d never be able to afford coming here on her artist’s salary, and she’d been content just to get takeout from Narook’s in the city’s Little Water Tribe. Being here, taking in the sharp, chilly air and the deep spiritual energy that permeated the palace, Shinza felt as if she were floating through a dream.

“Have a seat,” invited Yinnak, who took their place at the head of the table. Amrit and Shinza sat opposite each other; Amrit tried his best to look hungry, while Shinza’s eyes were as big as saucers.

“Go on, help yourself,” Yinnak grinned, gesturing to the spread of food between them. Amrit filled his bowl with a modest helping of arctic hen. Shinza, on the other hand, piled some of everything on the table into hers, going extra heavy on the tentacle soup and blubbered seal jerky.

“It’s so nice to see a foreigner eat our food with such enthusiasm,” the chief larked as they joined Shinza in tucking in. “We would have prepared a proper feast for your arrival, but I understand the need to stay low-key during these times.”

“Deeply appreciated.” Amrit spoke for Shinza, whose mouth was full. 

Yinnak studied Shinza politely, as if trying to find physical evidence of her status. “You know, I’d always hoped I’d get to meet the Avatar during my lifetime. I wasn’t certain I would.”

Shinza’s cheeks flushed. “Unfortunately, I was unaware of my status for a long time.”

“Oh, no!” Yinnak dispelled the thought with a flourish of their hand. “I didn’t mean to imply that you were late. Just that it’s an honor to be in your presence. We in the North hold the Avatar in great esteem, especially after what Korra did for us.”

Shinza softened. “That’s kind of you.”

“Chief Yinnak, if I may,” Amrit started. “I hate to get right down to business, but I feel it’s important to discuss The Organization.”

Yinnak sobered. “Okay. What about them?”

“Well,” Amrit rested his chopsticks. “As you may already know, they’ve established a strong base in Republic City. There’s violent protesting in the streets, propaganda’s spreading like wildfire. And now, it seems they’re expanding their reach to the northern Earth Kingdom.”

Yinnak nodded in understanding. “Mr. Han, allow me to put your mind at ease. You have nothing to worry about while you’re here - the Organization has no presence in the Northern Water Tribe.”

Amrit glanced at Shinza, whose expression was unreadable. They finished their meal with tea and kale cookies. Afterward, the chief invited them to the Spirit Oasis.

Shinza thrilled quietly, biting back a grin as they followed the chief through the atrium and into the heart of the palace. Yinnak pried the wooden door open and ushered them through. The humid, heavy air settled quickly on them, and while Amrit and Yinnak removed their coats, Shinza was overcome with the density of the spiritual energy. She put her hands out in front of her and closed her eyes, feeling as if she could see the energy wisping across her skin like vapor and growing thicker toward the little island in the center of the chamber.

“The Spirit Oasis is a sacred place to us,” Yinnak explained. “As you can probably sense, this is a place where the physical and spiritual worlds overlap.”

Shinza noticed the offerings of food left out near the wooden gate. She closed her eyes again, and in her mind’s eye, she saw herself in a past life crossing the bridge, year after year, diving into the sacred pond and searching for her lost love. And then she saw herself sitting beneath the wooden gate, deep in meditation, and merging with the Ocean spirit to demolish the Fire Nation’s infiltrating forces.

“Anyway, Avatar, I want you to know you’re welcome to visit the oasis anytime.”

“Thank you,” Shinza replied, turning to the chief and bowing. “For you hospitality, and for everything.”

Yinnak inclined their head. “Unfortunately, I have a string of meetings this afternoon. Please, stay as long as you like. My official will see you out when you’re finished.”

_____

Back at Tenok’s house, the two had scarcely walked through the front door when Amrit suggested a spar. Shinza could think of a handful of reasons not to - they were still full from lunch, she needed to rest up for her first waterbending lesson in the morning, they’d gotten up early that day and could use a little down time. But deep down, even if he wouldn’t admit it, she could tell he was offended that she didn’t prefer his element - her native element. Each time she avoided firebending or disparaged his harsh training, she felt a pang watching the corner of his mouth turn downward in disappointment. She knew he understood why she felt that way, but it hurt him all the same. Fire, she supposed he felt, was something they had in common. Through firebending, he felt close to her.

She agreed, went to go change, and met him in the courtyard. They faced each other, took their stances.

“Rules?” she inquired.

“The usual,” he announced, and then drew a whip of flames down on her. She barely rolled out of the way in time; her mind suddenly alert and sharp, she quickly calculated, dropped down to the ground, and swung her leg over the snow, catching his ankle. He lost his balance and swayed, but recovered in time to block her fire-daggers. Flowing from offense to recovery to defense and back again, they danced together. Finally, both of them thought to make the same move, kicking high with their left legs and catching each other at the calves, flames blazing skyward from the soles of their feet. The hot metal of The Leg burned through her leggings, but she didn’t move - just stared him down, daring him to try her. He grinned slyly as he realized she was nearly as good as he was now - or at least she had learned how to predict his moves. They would only continue to stalemate each other this way; he knew he’d have to break the rules. He bent his knee and captured her, using all the force of his own body to death-roll her onto the ground. Stunned, she softened her fall with a timely puff of air from her fingertips, but landed flat on her stomach nonetheless. He took the opening to pin her down with his knee to her spine.

He opened his mouth to say something snarky, but he suddenly found himself being launched away from her, floundering on his back with the breath knocked out of his lungs.

Out of nowhere, the wind picked up and howled like a train. Around her, snow and ice began to fly like razors. Her eyes glowed white, and the energy of thousands of Avatars past crackled along her skin. She pinned him to the ground. 

“Sh...Shinza,” he choked, petrified and feeling the weight of his mortality pressing down on him. Her fist was cocked back, flame pointing directly at his face, singeing his eyebrows . “Stop. Please.”

For a moment, she didn’t seem to hear him, and didn’t move. And then, very slowly, the glow in her eyes dimmed. The wind died down, and the snow fell around them silently. She grimaced in concentration, tamping down the Avatar State with great effort. The flame went out of her fist.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, looking pale, mortified, exhausted. Her hand, still hot, wicked melted frost and sweat from his brow. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

He stared up into her face in shock, hands still gripping her waist in a futile attempt to throw her off him. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

Then, he laughed the laugh of a man who’d just cheated death.

Fraught and confused, she puffed herself off of him while he cackled on the ground. “I don’t think you are. I almost fucking killed you.”

“But you didn’t,” he wept with laughter. 

“Because I got lucky!” she argued. “I can’t control the Avatar State yet!” She stuck her hand out to help him up.

“Clearly,” he replied, catching his breath, his eyes alight with passion. “But I see that drive in you. That right there? That is what I’ve been trying to coax out of you all this time.”

Her expression slid off her face. “That drive killed two people in Gaoling.”

“You don’t think being able to incapacitate a threat permanently is a good thing?” 

She pondered that. “That’s not what I’m saying. I know it’s a good thing - a vitally important thing. But if I can’t control myself…”

He conceded.

She wished he’d put his hands on her again.

“You know, we never talked about what happened,” he noted after a beat. “I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t want to. But if you do, you know I’m here --”

“I enjoyed it,” Shinza confessed.

Amrit froze. “You…?”

“I…” she started. Her voice cracked. “Blinded one of them. I snapped the other one’s arms. And when Xia came to my rescue, she torched them to ashes. They got what they deserved, and if I could do it over again, I wouldn’t change anything.”

He stared at her.

“After it happened, it played over and over in my head. I wanted to feel bad - I felt like I should have. Especially as a guest of the temple. But what I felt instead was…” She squeezed her hands together into fists in front of her. “Freedom. Power. After I did that, I knew I could take care of myself. I knew I could keep the cycle going.”

“So what are you saying?” he whispered.

“If The Organization’s violence is justified, then so is mine,” she said. “I don’t want to have to play their game, but I will.”

She realized that made her no better than The Org. And that if she wasn’t careful, she’d make martyrs of them all. But she had to be open to all options, at all costs. 

Amrit couldn’t imagine bearing the weight of every decision, big and small, being responsible for every possible outcome. He planted his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes, deep red like dying embers. 

“Hey,” he commanded her attention. “I’m not judging you.”

“You know I’d never hurt you, right?” Her lip quivered. She smoothed her hands over his forearms. “Not on purpose.”

“If you did, I’d forgive you.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m with you, okay? No matter what.”

_____

“I believe you have a status report for me?” The general steepled his fingers expectantly, swiveling in his chair.

The captain cleared her throat, loath to deliver the bad news. “We’ve lost track of her, sir.”

He stared her down expressionlessly. “Then find her again.”

“We’re working on it, sir,” she replied. “A source claims she might have fled back to the Eastern Air Temple after she killed Nobu and the Dai Li agent. We sent an infiltrator in disguise to the temple, but she reports the Avatar’s not there. I have my team looking into where she might have gone.”

“We can’t have this,” he said quietly, more to himself than to his captain. He took a moment to think, inhaling a calming breath and letting it out slowly. “If she so easily overtook the two of them, she must be further along in her training than we thought. Which means she might have finished with airbending and moved on.”

The general didn’t need to outline the implications of this to the captain. The ambush in Gaoling had been their one shot, and they’d failed because they’d underestimated the Avatar’s abilities. Now, every moment that passed, she grew stronger, and their chances of stopping the cycle forever grew narrower.

“Establish a presence in the North,” ordered the general. “Look for her there. Stay in disguise, and keep your eye on the papers. Someone may report having seen or met her.”

“Yes, General. What are your orders if we -- when we find her?”

“You are to do nothing,” he instructed. “We must play this very carefully. The Avatar is highly favored in the North - if she dies on their ground, they’ll make her a martyr. When you find her, you are to notify me immediately. Do not lose track of her again.”

“Yes, General.”

@chromecutie @my-remedy-is-euphoria @jaymzbush @hetapeep41

[evergreen-dryad]

old bnha wip #3 (kacchako)

In which a cheerful witch drags a resentful grouch of a brawler on a sidequest to hunt down spirits across the old sites of the country. It'll be fun, she said. . She never told him exactly what she was running away from.

It’s too late now. Blood drips off the blade that sunk into her, silently. Blood wells from the wound punctured into her, like ink spreading through paper.

The weapon slides out of her. Mouthless, Katsuki watches her body fall. He sees it all too clearly — the light from the flames afford no mercy. As if through treacle, he lunges before she can tumble to the ground.

The assassin looks at him, clearly amused. A snide little smile briefly rolls over their — no, her— face before it disappears. All the while, the strange curved blade glints purple as it soaks up the blood greedily.

The spell breaks as she breaks into a gleeful laugh.

(This is no assassin, now with the way she’s carrying herself. This is a hyena.)

“Get away from her,” His voice finally breaks through.

"Aww, look at you, all pale," she snarls through a wide grin, a finger on her chin, dagger wending through her hair. “I like the way your face looks like now,” said as casually as you please — as if she hadn’t just blotted out the world. The light in it. Ochako’s smile briefly flashes before his eyes and he feels it as keenly as a knife.

As if the world hadn’t stopped turning, when it clearly had for Katsuki.

* “Hey—” Katsuki, who had just been sharpening the blade of his axe, thank you, just started grinding faster.

“Hello, I’m trying to talk to you—” God, this one was not going away.

“What do you want,” he bit out, never stopping in his motion. The scraping screech never stopped. But that didn’t deter the determined smile in this one’s face.

“Quest!” She said it clearly, like the ding of a nail. Just like the fucking blacksmith’s son next door. A scowl foamed from Katsuki. “What does that have to do with me, ha?”

“I’m looking for a partner to go looking for spirits with me,” She cheerily told him in that annoying way like she’s about to rub an elbow in his ribs. “So come questing with me-”

“No.” He didn’t even need to waste his breath. What was he still doing here? At that he started to get up from his slouch on the ground, picking up the whetstone and his weapon.

“Aw, come on, please?” She stepped in front of him, cloak swishing around her ankles, tawdry at the edges.

He stood and glared at her, arms crossed. “I don’t play games, Round-Face.”

He sneered at her, squinting at her gait, trying to work her out. He’d seen her around the village for sure, but who was she again?

She had no clear weapons on her. An utility belt of leather, and a long object bound to her back. His eyes narrowed. One from the mage community then?

She smiled, reading his gaze. “I’m a witch, yes. Would it really kill you to go on one side-quest, Bakugou?”

“I don’t even fucking know your name, or your abilities, or why this should be worth my time,” he snapped, suddenly furious. Not that he wasn’t already simmering at the bit, constantly irritated by all the damn NPCs that kept trying to make small talk with him. “We are not even friends.”

“I’m Uraraka Ochako, remember that thank you. We met just a year ago at the marketplace and our families have traded a few commodities. You know perfectly well what witches can do.” She smiled at him, assured of herself. That pissed him off. Who freaking cared about all these common people’s backstories?

A teasing glint stole into her eyes as she tilted her head a little to the side.“You’re not the first ghosthunting companion I’d want either,” she’d sighed, almost pouting.

“THEN?” He fumed. “What the hell are you doing bothering me?” He almost wanted to strike the rude wench.

“Because you seem like the perfect complement to my abilities, and also!” She pointed a finger at him, making him lean back in distaste. “You’re fierce enough to scare any bad spirits away!”

“CALL ME SCARY, HA?” He gave into the urge to snap, a frown twisting up his face. Clank, goes his axe as he throws it to the ground.

She laughed. She seemed to find it — him, funny. “Yup, exactly like that!”

* There’s no one who can help them in this wilderness. The nearest healer happens to be the one who’s dead right now.

The killer had sauntered away easily enough. Seemed like she'd gotten what she'd wanted.

Mouth dry, Katsuki finally breaks. He screams — finally lets out the hoarse cry that’s been building in his throat since her body flashed in front of him. Holds her up to the light of the fire. But he already knows she’s beyond hope now. Because: “What the fuck, Uraraka?!” How dare she go dying on him? What the hell??

It’s all he can do to hold it together. He’s so angry he doesn’t even know how to begin. (Don’t die for me you nitwit you idiot you round-faced mess of a witch why I’m the warrior in your party?!)

Healers stay in the back, bring up the rear for a reason. And she just did the stupidest fucking thing he's ever heard of in this life.

* “No. I’m focusing on the Main Quest,” he barked. Only two of the scattered Treasures had been recovered in the realm — long ago, the king had issued a proclamation for all young and able to aid in seeking them out. Many of the adventurous had stepped up, for the promise of glory and riches. And of course, immortality.

Travelers and merchants had whispered of various parties of people, bravely searching and fighting come what may, what lies yonder over the forests and mountains.

Here lie dragons, and they were slayed, and the treasure returned.

For what is man without trying to leave a mark, before the waves of time wipe the sands of history clean?

Bakugou Katsuki, son of tailors Masaru and Mitsuki, was singlemindedly determined to be the Greatest Champion of them all.

“Living is just as important,” she chided, steps light beside his, hands swinging side to side as she followed him. Irritated, he increased his pace, but she never backed down.

“Not all of us want to slave away like mindless soldiers for the realm, you know. What would uniting all the Treasures do anyway? Does anyone know?” She squinted at him. “We don’t even know what they look or smell or feel like, most of us common people that is. For all we know it’s faded into myth now,” she continued, turning her palm to stare at its lines.

Aware of his increasing outrage, she turned to look at him with an easy, almost sheepish grin. “Not that I don’t want to, too. I just need to focus on my family first. And that means going on these quests with actual material returns.” She stared at him, awaiting his answer.

* Never told him there was a killer waltzing around waiting to wear her face, what the fuck.

He cradles her face, from the slight gash on her forehead, to the line of her jaw. He’d barely managed to save it.

* spirit quest camp shenanigans “That wasn’t so bad now, right, Bakugou?” The cheery little chit that’s the witch beside him — who dragged them out here in the middle of fucking nowhere in the first place — even has the damned energy to smile. Who the heck huffs a laugh like that while trying to act all patronising — you know what, scratch that thought. He’s met a-plenty who do that. Try to sweeten him up with honeyed words, when looks, material wealth doesn’t impress, doesn’t sway him to their side.

He bites. “That,” he said, “was too fucking tedious.” He shot her the stinkeye as they, of accord, settle down against the cool stone of the temple and start to set up camp. “We’re not done yet, are we,” he snarked, poisonous. He began sorting through the provisions they have on hand — and what loot they’d managed to gather.

Trailing ghosts for their items, ugh. What a waste of time

Let her collect the firewood, he’s had enough of the backbreaking work for today.

* “You know,” she began, out of the blue one day. They had just finished dinner, and she was staring wistfully up at the sky, fingers steepled beneath her chin. “You know what I said before about you not being who I’d choose as a partner? I take that back.”

Katsuki who had just grunted to show he was listening, found himself nearly spluttering. Whether from indignation or of shock he wasn’t sure. “Oh now you do?” What did I do now, his eyebrows knitted, but he couldn’t be bothered to ask.

She smiled at him, almost fond. “Yeah. You,” She began, only to stop again, seemingly at a loss of words.

Katsuki let a smirk spread over his face. “Yeah go on?”

She shot a look at him, almost an eyeroll. “Back then, I decided on you not because of your… lovely personality,” she hid a cough of laughter after a sideeye from him, “but because I decided — I guess I’d unconsciously decided I wanted someone who could watch my back.” She hesitated again, but briefer this time. “Someone who would definitely be able to fight on their own.”

“Basically you wanted to ride someone’s coattails,” he said drolly.

She flushed. “That may be right but all the same, I also knew I wanted to be stronger, so I thought I shouldn’t go for someone too kind. Someone who’d keep kicking me to get better. Someone,” she paused, glancing at him, “I admire a lot, and can work hard with.”

Katsuki felt his face freeze before he launched into a wide, cocky grin. “Oho, you sure are singing my praises today.”

She finally gave in to rolling her eyes. “I was trying to say you’re not so bad after all, despite being a stubborn arse toerag who keeps shouting till all the birds flee from all the explosions you make. So thank you, for coming along.” She finished with a single arch of her eyebrow. “And anyway, you’re pretty funny when you lose your temper, so thanks for the laughs.”

* Dusk is falling. The light paints the clouds orange, as they begin to slow down, breaths shuddering.

They’ve been hunting all day.

They’re somewhere off the beaten path back to the nearest village — the trees tower all around them, and shadows fall fast here. Night is fast approaching. They definitely can’t make it back to the lights of civilisation in time.

The voice is as sudden as it is disconcerting.

“Found you, my little bird~”

Ochako turns, and her face freezes. It’s as if she’s seen a ghost. “You—”

Katsuki doesn’t need to know any more than that. He whips out his weapon and swings it at their head, but—

—as easily as a breath they’ve sidestepped him. A small blade whisks by his cheek, taking some skin off — irritating him even more. He roars and rushes back in, only to be thwarted by this assailant’s constant darting all over the place. “What the fuck—”

“Katsuki!” He dimly hears Ochako cry out through the blood pumping in his head. “Stop! We need to regroup—”

“SHUT UP! I can settle this!” He yells back. What the hell, didn’t she trust him? The sudden annoyance sours within him, fueling his rage, his need to go all out. He swings the blade of his hatchet once more at the head of the attacker, before aiming a punch.

It hits, but he does not count for the momentum of the movement throwing him off-balance for a kilter. It’s enough for them to dart by and—

Katsuki readies his guard—

Only to realise a split-second later that they had never meant to fight him in the beginning.

Ochako gurgles, a pained breath hissing out, hands splayed out for a spell that couldn’t form quick enough. Light crumbles from her fingertips.

* -sequence where with last dying breath ochako transfers lifesource to him- -flashback where ochako uses skill- -katsuki tries to do the same despite knowing she’s gone but he doesn’t know what to do anymore- -he just shuts down after that, the realisation she’s not coming back- -only enough to bring her body back to the parents if close enough-/bury if not ~ "I'll come back for you one day, Katsuki," She singsongs, sickeningly sweet, before she deigns to take her departure. "Remember my name! I'm Toga Himiko!"

He spits after her.

Never. She's a killer, that's all she is.

He throws himself into fighting mindlessly. Katsuki does not deviate from his path of destruction — never thinking of the heart he always tried too hard to run from.

//and since I’m at it I might as well yeet out this fantasy au outline I had for kacchako, was prompted angst, did not get round to writing how they bond and such.

...it was 2018 when I wrote it, pretty unlikely I’ll write it anymore, so enjoy? :D

[des8pudels8kern]

Just 500 words, I said. A writing exercise, disconnected ficlets and snippets, I said. It’ll be quick, I said. Second day of the 500 words challenge. The Witcher, 1405 words of post-monsterfighting with softness, continued from yesterday but can be read alone. Mention of blood, potions, and alcohol.

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

There is movement ahead. First, he manages to make out Geralt’s hair, pale and silver under the moonlight, then his body begins to take shape as he comes closer. Jaskier has already begun his assessment before he’s even dropped his branch and slipped off Roach.

Geralt took his time getting back; mere minutes longer and Jaskier would have gone into the lion’s, eh, monster’s den to look for him. Still, he is moving under his own power, so that’s something. Head low with the inevitable exhaustion that always follows the rush of a fight, arms swinging at his sides as he walks rather than protectively cradling some broken ribs – oh, and there’s something clutched in his right hand, perfect, that’s the evidence for the villagers right there, no need to go back to the dead beast later – and both legs present and accounted for and not even limping.

Honestly, for all that his poor nerves have suffered the last seven-three-quarters songs, things are looking pretty good right now. Geralt has done his witchering, he’s got his kill trophy, and now it’s time for Jaskier’s performance. He shakes the stiffness of the wait out of his shoulders, clears his throat, and moves towards his audience to gauge the mood of the evening to decide how to play this.

“Great! I am so glad you have finally decided to grace us with your return. Did you take a nice little post-battle nap while Roach and I were languishing here tortured by uncertainty?”

Geralt’s approaching form grunts at him in reply, which… could mean anything, really. This is Geralt.

By now, Jaskier can see that his face isn’t merely shadowed but still black with poison from his cheeks to his forehead. It’s been a while since Geralt dosed himself up and left Jaskier and Roach to wait for his return. If the black hasn’t started to fade yet, hasn’t at least retreated enough to only leave his eyes dark and sensitive in a too-pale face, then he must have taken more during the fight.

Godsdamned.

Most of that stuff is poisonous enough that a decent-sized sip would make Jaskier very, very sick or maybe do some permanent damage to his liver, brain, or other precious parts of him. Geralt with his freaky witcher constitution may be able to just throw back a few bottles and wake up the next day sick to his stomach and with a raging headache, but he also handles his potion-hangovers less gracefully than Jaskier does his alcohol-induced ones. Unlike Jaskier after too much vodka, though, there is cure for that, and Jaskier at least has his wits together enough to make Geralt drink it. If left to his own devices, experience has shown that Geralt himself will usually insist that the poison is already fading and not worth wasting the Oriole on (which might well be true - some of those witcher potion ingredients are worth their weight in gold, and Jaskier trusts Geralt’s judgement enough that he doesn’t try to push it on him when Geralt refuses in complete, coherent sentences.) That, or he’ll be too out of it or too busy bleeding to take it when he would need it the most.

One of Jaskier’s hands dips into the bag at his hip and rummages around, fingers moving from bottle to bottle and feeling out the knotting at their necks until he finds the Golden Oriole. He pulls it out, unstoppers it, and holds it out to Geralt.

“There, drink that. As romantic as the woods at night may be as a concept, the reality of them is uncomfortably damp and fucking cold, and some of us can’t afford a sore throat because singing is how we earn our living and I know you don’t want to be the sole breadwinner of this little enterprise for the next two weeks.”

Geralt has come to a stop in front of him now but not made a move for the bottle, Jaskier freezing his arse off probably being the highlight of his night, so Jaskier shakes it a bit, like a treat for a child. If Geralt can be a little shit, then so can he.

Rather than harrumphing at him and jerking the potion out of his hand, though, Geralt merely takes one more step, well into Jaskier’s space, and raises his head. Under the light of the moon, Jaskier can see the placid expression on his face, mouth relaxed and lips open just a bit, as he calmly looks at Jaskier in expectation.

Oh. One of those times, then.

Jaskier doesn’t know if it’s a conscious decision of Geralt’s, a sign of trust, an indulgence he allows himself when he is tired and feels like he has earned it, or if the fight and exhaustion and potions strip him of his defenses sometimes and leave him in a strange, unguarded state halfway between waking and sleeping. Jaskier has never brought it up afterwards, and Geralt has never let on how clear his memories are on what happened after he crashed.

Either way, it does not matter. Whether given consciously or unconsciously, it’s an honour, and Jaskier’s self-imposed duty as Geralt’s friend and a decent human being, to take care of him. The Path may be Geralt’s calling, and a witcher’s life one of hardship and pain, but Jaskier’s no witcher, he’s human, and a rather hedonistic, comfort-loving one at that. While Geralt walks his Path alongside him, the suffering will be kept to a minimum, thank you very much.

He lifts the bottle to Geralt’s lips and dips it carefully, slowly raising the bottom as Geralt drinks the potion.

That done, he restoppers the bottle, puts it back in the bag, and moves in on Geralt’s side.

He runs his hands over his hair, gently and methodically checking for bumps or the stickiness of bodily fluids. He knows Geralt can heal from just about anything, even head injuries that are so tricky and insidious in humans, but he’d rather not find out if he can recover from his brain literally leaking out of his skull, and if nothing else they bleed an unreasonable amount and should be wrapped before Geralt adds blood loss to the list of things to recover from. There, above his left ear, an area that’s swollen and hot to the touch and has Geralt breathe in sharply when Jaskier’s fingers probe it. No blood, though, so Jaskier decides they are good for now.

He’ll just wake Geralt up a couple of times during the night, the way he always does in cases like this. If witchers can take a blow to the head and not need to be woken up at intervals to reduce the risk that, when they do so on their own, they’ll wake up with junks of memory missing, or an entirely different person, then Geralt has never told him so, even when Jaskier’ wake-up calls have left him grumpy and growling.

“There, all done.”  It’s not; this close Jaskier can smell the stench of something that must have spilled on Geralt, his hands have rooted around in dead monster, and he’ll have a closer look for cuts, bruises, and anything else that might benefit from attention later on by candlelight, but there’s no need to get into that now. This is not the time for words.

The blackness around Geralt’s eyes has faded wile Jaskier did his little examination, but his eyes are still dark pools that could be looking anywhere. Jaskier would swear that he can feel them on him, though.

He shifts one hand and cups Geralt’s cheek, warm against Geralt’s skin, stubbled and clammy dried sweat. He wills the touch to tell Geralt what he can’t process now in words, not when part of his facilities has clearly already chosen to retire to sleep off the events of the night. Geralt makes no sound, but he sighs and leans into Jaskier’s palm.

One of those times.

Jaskier steps aside and slips an arm around Geralt’s back, leading him to Roach and then to the barn where they’ll spend the night.

They make the trip in silence, no sounds but the creaking of leather, Roach’s hooves on the ground, and their combined breaths.

This is not the time for words; words are what Jaskier fights his battles with, and he will not use them when Geralt’s own defenses are so low.

[always5hineee]

Infallible- Chapter 17: Double Escape

Word count: 1380

Chapter warnings: None

-----

       "Where are we?" Felix asked, looking around suspiciously. The area they had travelled to was admittedly close to Y/N's home... He didn't see anything immediately that indicated this, but he could sense it. He had a weird feeling about anything to do with her. It had bothered him at first, but he had slowly grown to expect it, and even appreciate it as a calming consistency.

       The area they were standing in now felt dark. It was similar to the feeling he always had around her, but somehow darker. It wasn't inherently a bad place, if anything it was just a little run down. They had appeared on a concrete bridge, stained by years of aging, moss and plants growing up through the cracks. It was fairly secluded, but it looked out over the entire city. Even during the daytime, the flashing lights were blinking all over, causing his attention to flit around, searching for something he knew he'd never find.

       "It's pretty." Was all he managed to say, looking out over the scenery.

       "I know, and out of the way. That's why I picked it." Seungmin said, leaning against the side of the bridge as he tried to recover from their fight. Angels could normally heal themselves fairly well, but Seungmin and Jeongin's powers were evidently depleted. Jeongin quickly struggled off the ground and held his hand up to the bruises on his partner's wrists.

       "Here, let me do it." As he tried to reach, though, his legs gave out from underneath him and he tumbled back into the dirt.

       "Jeongin-" Seungmin said worriedly, moving to help him up, but nearly falling himself. With a sigh, watching them both, Felix knelt down.        

       "Neither of you are doing too well. I'll take care of it." Hovering his hand over Jeongin's body first, he healed him to the best of his abilities. The boy breathed out in relief, falling back against the concrete.

       "That's the best I've felt since falling out of the sky." He said with a half-laugh, the most emotion Felix had seen him display since they'd met on Earth. Seungmin groaned as Felix did the same for him, shivering as his wounds healed. His wings involuntarily fluttered out from his shoulderblades, sweeping upwards as he stretched them. Their color had whitened up a little since the last time he'd used them, likely due to Felix's help.

       "I'm surprised you can heal that well, being a soldier and all." Seungmin joked.

       "What's that supposed to mean?" Felix asked accusingly. "If anyone was going to need to know how to heal, it would be someone on the battlefield!"

       "I suppose you're right." He said with another deep breath. "So... now we need a plan."

       "You don't have a plan?" Felix groaned. "Why did I ever trust you to-"

       "Calm down." He rolled his eyes. "I told you the plan, get Hyunjin back so we can use him to get into heaven. Then you're home free."

       "What's to stop you from getting kicked out again?" He posed with annoyance. "Or me for helping you?" This was quickly beginning to seem like a very, very bad idea. He still had the chance to leave, turn them in.

       "Heaven is big. Really big. If I had known I was being targeted, I wouldn't have gotten caught." He explained. He obviously didn't intend to get caught a second time. "As for you, who says they'll even know you were involved?" Raising a hand, he continued, "Actually, that's one of our biggest advantages. If I were your little friends, I'd be assuming right now that Jeongin and Seungmin had escaped, taking Felix with them to keep him quiet and potentially have some bargaining power."

       Listening to that, Felix had to admit he was right. There was no doubt that his mismatched crew was thinking that he'd been kidnapped, already trying to find a way to get him back. While they wouldn't be able to track his soul, like they had with Hyunjin, they were much more aware of his energy, and may just be able to feel his movements. Not only that, but because of the condition of these two, he would likely have to take up most of the angelic duties.

       "Not only that," Jeongin added, "But we may be able to finally make an offensive move with you around."

       "What do you mean by that?"

       "Well, if the others think you've been kidnapped, they won't be suspicious of you." That was fair enough. "We can send you back in to set them up, bring them right to us." That sounded... awful to him, somehow. Was he really just going to turn on his friends, on Y/N like that? He was meant to be her protector...

       Wait, that was it, though. He needed to protect her. It wasn't Hyunjin's job anymore, he'd given that up. And now he just wanted to waltz back in, take it back from him? He didn't care what happened to her. He wasn't there for her for all that time. Felix was. It didn't matter what he was feeling in that moment, Felix knew that it was his duty to work it out. He wasn't sure why Seungmin and Jeongin had actually been removed from their home in the first place. Bang Chan knew, and he was pretty sure that a few others did as well, but as far as he could tell, these two weren't trying to hurt anyone, so what did it matter to him? Let them return. He'd never have to see them again. All that mattered was his hold on Y/N, his responsibility.

       "That makes sense." He said. "In that case, we'd want to do this as soon as possible. They think you're weak, even though I've obviously fixed you, so it would be suspicious for me to escape after an extended period of time."

       "I agree." Seungmin said. "But we need to agree on a date and location for a sort of ambush. If you could split them up and just make sure that Hyunjin got to us, that would be optimal, but it will happen fast enough that I think we can handle it."

       "You can't survive another fight, though, unless you run again. Then the plan is completely gone. We can't pull the same trick twice."

       "Well, then we just make sure it works the first time." Seungmin shrugged.

       "We should use this bridge as the meeting spot." Jeongin posed. "It's not the most ideal, but it needs to be a location that we're all familiar with, and going back to our original hideout throws too much suspicious on our connection to Felix."

       "That works for me." Felix said. When?"

       "Let's say... Exactly three days from now." Seungmin suggested. "That gives us enough time to prepare, and you can try and marinate the idea of splitting up in search for us. Maybe even find a way to suggest that you have an idea of where we are." Felix nodded.

       "Alright."

       "Good. Now go and 'escape'." Seungmin shoved him lightly, almost as if they were friends. Felix looked at them for a moment, eyes shifting between each, and then stepped through a gate back to their previous location. At this Seungmin took the opportunity to look to Jeongin, who was clearly burning to ask a question.

       "Why didn't we just use him instead?" Jeongin said with confusion. "He healed us, it would have been 2 to 1." Seungmin couldn't deny that he'd thought about it. Still, it wasn't right.

       "We're not trying to be any more awful than we have to. He did us a favor, and we owe him for that. Plus, Hyunjin is already incapacitated. It's less of a loss to only inflict the damage to him."

       "You told me you'd do anything to get back into heaven."

       "Yes, and I will. If it comes to that. But if we can afford to be decent, I'd like to keep it that way." Jeongin said nothing, simply turning to look out over the city. They had three days to plan their crowning jewel, the plot that would finally bring them home. They could only hope it would work, not wanting to think about what would happen should it fail...

Go to Chapter 18