#but this is certainly a promising sign that the entire left has not been captured by this ideology

[velidewrites]

The Daily Struggles Of An Art Student

Desperate to finish her male anatomy assignment before the deadline, Feyre Archeron finds a secluded corner in a cafe. Or so she thinks.

Pairing: Feysand

Tags: Modern AU, Artist!Feyre, Look folks I'm just going to say it: Feyre spends half of this fic looking up reddit [redacted] for a male anatomy assignment

Notes: Happy birthday the wonderful @the-lonelybarricade! I wrote you this definitely not unhinged one-shot as a little gift. Thank you for being such a great friend, and truly the most supportive person in this fandom. I cherish you!!

Read on AO3

Feyre was running out of time.

Deadlines, she decided, were really not her thing. What was that saying? “You can’t rush art?” Well, her professor at the New York Academy of Art would be inclined to disagree. Then again, Feyre wasn’t sure the blank page shining a soft, white light from her iPad could really count as “art.”

She sighed in frustration, shifting in her seat. As if the new angle could help, somehow. With exactly four hours and twenty minutes until she was to submit her assignment, the prospect of failing was quickly starting to look more and more like a reality. Feyre had always been bad at painting from memory, particularly when it came to capturing people. Her own cat, she could probably paint in minutes and be satisfied with the outcome. Or the view from her apartment. Or the honey-brown colour of her sister’s eyes, especially when she just saw Elain at dinner the other day.

Male anatomy, on the other hand…

Feyre needed a reference. Desperately.

It wasn’t unusual for an art student to spend hours on Pinterest, searching for the perfect pose, one that would be just right. Feyre had done it herself too many times to count. It was simply that…well, Pinterest could not provide a reference for everything. And Feyre would rather not use her own memory to capture a man’s physique in full.

She had just broken up with Tamlin, after all, and had very little interest in ever recalling their time together again. Lucky for her, he had moved to Boston last week to pursue his Master’s, never to bother her again. Hopefully.

Unfortunately, with Pinterest proving entirely hopeless, and Tamlin decidedly out of the picture, Feyre was left entirely out of options.

The worst thing about all this was that Feyre had only herself to blame.

There had been one option she simply pretended not to acknowledge, though she would have finished yesterday morning had it not been for her own stubbornness—or, as Nesta had called it, had she not been such a prude. Feyre certainly did not think of herself as one—it was just that…well.

Every morning, from 8 till 10:30 sharp, her class offered anatomy studies with a handful of volunteers from the student body posing for their life drawing. Ninety-nine percent of the time, they were completely nude, which was not something Feyre would have cared about in the slightest had their newest model not been Feyre’s best friend. And her sister’s new boyfriend.

Ever since she had told Lucien Vanserra the school was considering paying the volunteers for their efforts, his gaze lit up and, not even a day later, there he was, his name displayed proudly on the sign-up sheet. Feyre knew him long enough now to know the extra money in his pocket was just an excuse. Someone has to capture this body one way or another, Feyre, Lucien had told her a few days ago, a twinkle in his russet eye. She supposed he did make an interesting art subject, with the scar and all—but not nearly interesting enough to strut through the East Building proudly, letting both students and teachers alike gush on about his “cruel beauty.”

Elain, to her horror, seemed to support Lucien’s latest modelling endeavours wholeheartedly.

“He promised to bring a few of the sketches home,” her sister had told her excitedly at dinner. The best reaction Feyre could offer was a horrified, blinking stare.

It wasn’t that Lucien was lacking in the looks department—on the contrary, actually—but she’d always seen him as a brother, ever since the day he’d almost run her over on his motorcycle, her very first day as a college freshman. And so, for the past few days, Feyre would make sure to avoid the East Building like the plague.

Today, she ended up in a nearby campus cafe, a cozy spot for a senior art student seeking privacy, yet still crowded enough to make Feyre look over her shoulder every few minutes. She’d opted for a secluded corner near the restrooms, with no windows next to her table, just in case a nosy passerby caught a glimpse of what exactly Feyre was drawing. Or, rather, attempting to draw.

She glanced at her phone, an unpleasant sense of dread curling in her stomach once again as she realised twenty more minutes had passed. Had she really wasted all that precious time thinking about Lucien?

Feyre needed to come up with a solution, and fast. There was no way she was failing this class, not in her final year. She was planning to move to Paris next year and continue her education there—where better than the art capital of the world? She would not let a poor painting of a penis, of all things, ruin all of her plans and dreams for the future.

Relying on Pinterest for now, Feyre began sketching the unnamed man. His upper body posed no serious issues, and she found herself done with the clean lineart and three hours thirty minutes left to spare. The thighs, too, seemed to feature all the muscles in correct places, though upon further inspection, she had perhaps drawn them slightly too large for a regular, male specimen. Whatever. With Lucien as the current model, she doubted any of her classmates would submit perfectly proportionate sketches.

Good, Feyre decided. This was good. The only thing left for her to do now was to find a good reference for the final pièce de résistance. She could do this—there was no one around, after all, and she’d make sure her browser history would be wiped clean later. Ressina, her classmate from the Academy, liked to borrow Feyre’s iPad sometimes to try her skills at digital art—and Feyre wasn’t sure their friendship was well-established enough that she could explain without making a fool of herself.

With a deep, deep sigh, Feyre got over herself and fired up Reddit.

Well.

This was going to make things a whole lot easier.

It was honestly beyond her that this entire archive was out there, for free and simply waiting for her to download. Without wasting any more time, Feyre got to scrolling.

She hadn’t expected to be flooded with so many options, but soon enough, she found just the perfect reference—the angle matched exactly the pose she had already outlined, and from the ruler he’d so proudly displayed beside it, the man didn’t seem like he would mind. And so, with the image neatly placed in the corner of her canvas, Feyre began to add the sketch. Everything seemed to be coming together—and, her focus lost entirely to the penis before her, she was actually starting to believe she might just submit this thing in time.

“Friend of yours?”

“Shit!” Feyre jumped, pressing her iPad close to her chest as she whirled back.

The voice behind her—of course—turned out to be a man. The most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

“Well?” he asked, eyes twinkling. Were they actually violet, or was the soft light pouring through the window just that spectacular?

Feyre felt her cheeks heating. “You know, it’s rude to invade other people’s privacy,” she told him, anger slowly replacing the embarrassment coiling in her chest.  Who was this man, this stranger, to question her?

He only seemed more amused, though he lifted a defensive hand. “Hey, I was just leaving the restroom,” he said, pointing back to the staircase behind. “It’s not my fault you’re right out here for all to see. Who’s invading whose privacy now, hmm?” Before Feyre opened her mouth to retort, the man added, “Oh, no need to apologise. Mind if I sit?”

And with that, he simply plopped down on the chair beside her.

The audacity. 

Feyre’s eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t going to apologise,” she said, setting her now locked iPad on the table.

He ran a hand through his hair, raven waves soaking up the sunlight, and smiled again. “I was hoping you would say that.”

“Anyway, this isn’t my friend,” Feyre said, hoping there was enough mockery in her tone to wipe that stupid grin off his handsome face. “It’s a project. For art school.”

“Ah, yes” he mused, drumming his long, slender fingers on the polished wood. “I could tell from how precise your strokes were.” Something about the way he said strokes made the heat in her face nearly boil over. Get it together, idiot! He leaned back in his seat, as if he could somehow tell exactly what Feyre was thinking. Then, he proclaimed, “You’re an artist.”

Alright, Feyre decided. Not entirely a prick, then. “I’m not sure I’d call myself that,” she admitted honestly. Not yet, at least.

“I would,” he said, the corner of his mouth curling slightly as he added, “I’d like to call you many things, actually. Let’s start with your name.”

There it was. Feyre couldn’t help but flirt in return. Prick or not, she liked his boldness—and his good looks certainly were no disadvantage. “You first,” she demanded.

He flashed her a wide, brilliant smile. “My favourite subject.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “That doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

“Rhysand,” he said. “But you, darling, can call me Rhys.”

Rhysand. The name was so unusual she almost didn’t register what he’d called her. Darling. It was then that she’d finally taken her eyes off his face long enough to take in the rest of him—the deep, English accent, lilting as though he wasn’t speaking to her but singing the smoothest melody.

Yeah—she really needed to get it together.

“What brings you to New York City, Rhysand?” she asked him, not giving him the satisfaction of using his clearly personal nickname yet. His eyes sparkled again, accepting the challenge.

He shrugged. “Research. The sights. Pretty girls drawing male genitalia at 1pm on a Tuesday.” Rhysand winked. “Greatest city in the world, huh?”

Feyre’s cheeks flushed again. “Research?” she questioned, desperate not to go back to that topic with a man she’d only just met.

Rhys chuckled. “Yes. I’m an astronomer—or about to be, at least.”

“Interesting.”

“It is,” he agreed, and she could’ve sworn actual stars flickered in his gaze with the words. “You’d be surprised just how much the night sky has to offer.”

“I paint it sometimes,” Feyre told him, unsure why she’d just admitted something that personal to a stranger. “Whenever I feel…down, I suppose.”

To her surprise, Rhys nodded. “I do the same.”

Her brows flicked up. “Paint?”

“I’m afraid I’m not that talented. No, I look up—watch the stars.”

Feyre smiled. “That actually sounds wonderful.”

Rhys angled his head. “You know, I haven’t had the chance to explore the New York sky yet. I could use some company.”

Something told her she was up for one hell of a first date. “Alright, Rhys,” Feyre said, his face lighting up triumphantly at the name. She chuckled, grabbing her iPad as she rose from her chair. “Meet me here at seven thirty tonight.”

“Wait!” he called after her. “You still haven’t told me your name.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she teased. “I’m not sure I’m ready to part with darling.”

The stars in his eyes twinkled. “Oh, I think we’ll work something out.”

[just-a-little-cellist]

Hey, I just read your Levi alphabet headcanons and they were so good!! So in relationship to that I was wondering if you could write a sub! Levi fic with a humiliation kink. No pressure, and I love your writing :)

A/N: ah thank you so much! I'm really happy that you like my stuff!! ok sorry this has taken a while but I didn't want to mess this up, I've had so much fun writing this one and it turned out way longer than I expected :) hope you enjoy it!! sub levi is my fav so :P

warnings: nsfw content, d/s dynamic, dom reader, use of 'mistress' but aside from that reader's gender isn't specified, light bondage, crying, humiliation kink :)

You always seemed to know.

You could read him like an open book, and it surprised him every single time. You knew him better than anyone, sometimes better than himself. You could see straight through him, and there was no hiding from that.

Today was no different. It was written in his stiff demeanor, his unusually icy glare, the harsh bite of his words, everything about him expressing that he was on edge much more so than normal. Although he could always relax slightly more when it was just the two of you, today he hadn't yet dropped his cold facade for even a second.

Having had some free time for once in your busy life, you were sat in the armchair in the comfort of your bedroom, nestled in the corner with a book in your hands. Levi had unfortunately been called into a last-minute meeting, much to your dismay, so you waited patiently until he got back.

You heard the slam of the door shutting as he got in and looked up to see him enter, but it was a shock to see the scowl on his face. On any other day the smile you greeted him with would be reciprocated (even if it was only subtle), however that seemed beyond reach considering his bad mood. Your book was quickly discarded.

"Levi? What's wrong?"

Not bothering to look up at you as he roughly tugged his shoes off, he muttered, "Got given a fuck ton of paperwork to finish by the end of the week, plus I've got to watch over the shitty brats from the 104th tomorrow."

You gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry sweetheart. You still have today off though, don't you?"

"Yeah, but if I don't start this work now it won't get finished on time."

"You're going to overwork yourself. Take some time off."

He glared at you, anger smothering his features. "You think it's that easy? You think I don't want a day off? I've got shit to do, I can't just take breaks when I feel like it! Just fuck off and let me work!"

The second the words left his mouth and he saw the way you were looking at him, a wave of guilt washed over him.

"I...I..." He looked away. "Shit..."

Standing from the chair and walking in front of him, you gently took his hand, causing his eyes to flicker up and meet yours. "Levi, look at me. I understand that you're stressed, believe me, but I'm just wary of your wellbeing. You're human too, and even Humanity's Strongest needs a break sometimes." You pressed a finger to his lips when he went to protest. "Think about this logically. If you work non-stop, then you won't be able to concentrate as well, will you? Plus, if you fall behind a little with paperwork, I'm always here to help. I don't mind doing extra if it helps you out. Do you understand?"

"I... don't want to be a burden on you."

"You aren't burdening me if I'm offering."

He nodded, then looked down. "I didn't mean to yell at you." His voice grew smaller, a telltale sign he was nervous. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Levi. I know it wasn't intentional."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, though quickly suppressed it.

"What is it?" You had a vague idea, since the same thing happened quite a lot when he was pent-up, but you wanted to be sure.

"It's nothing."

"Tell me."

"I just thought..." His cheeks got warmer and he mumbled, "Maybe we could try that thing we talked about?"

You cupped his face in your hand. "Are you sure you're up for it at the minute?"

"I need to... I need you to help me let go... just for a bit..."

"Ok then, if you're certain." You kissed his cheek. "I'm going to go and fetch a couple of things, stay put."

Levi stood in the middle of your shared bedroom, hands fidgeting in anticipation as he waited for you to return. This was a jump from what your dynamic usually was, but he desperately wanted to try it and you had happily obliged.

You soon returned, locking the door behind you, holding a neat coil of rope and something else that Levi couldn't quite see.

"This is new for us, so I'm not going to go overboard right away. Is that ok?"

Levi took a deep breath. "Mhm..."

"Remind me what your safe words are."

"Amber to slow down, red to stop everything, and hum the melody if I can't speak."

You smiled. "Good boy."

Placing your equipment on the table beside you, you sat down in the armchair and watched him for a moment, still fidgeting and not quite sure what to do with himself.

"Strip," you commanded, lacing dominance into your tone.

Levi blushed and began taking his clothes off, laying each article on the bed until he was completely naked. He stood before you, feeling incredibly exposed and subtly trying to cover himself.

You shook your head in disapproval. "You know better than that. Hands behind your back."

He hesitantly complied, now unable to hide his rapidly growing arousal, and his face flushed a deeper shade of red.

"Kneel." You gestured to the space in front of you and he followed. "Tell me why we're doing this."

He swallowed nervously. "Because I was mean to you."

"That's right. You took your feelings out on me, so we're going to fix that, hm?"

He nodded.

"Use your words."

"Yes mistress..."

"Good boy." You leaned closer, picking up the thing that Levi hadn't yet seen. "Open your mouth."

He did as you asked and soon found out what the object was. You fastened the ball gag securely and looked down at Levi, smirking at the sight. His eyes were wide as he grew accustomed to the foreign feeling, but he couldn't conceal the interested twitch of his cock in response to it.

"You're so pretty like this. Stand up, turn around, and keep your hands behind your back."

Once again following your directions ever so obediently, you picked up the coil of rope and bound his wrists together, before trailing your fingers over his hips. Levi shivered in arousal and tried not to lean into the touch. You knew how sensitive he was, particularly around that area, so you continued to focus your attention to his hips and his inner thighs; all too soon he was tense and shaking, and the second you pulled away he whined from the loss of contact.

"Patience." You turned him around to face you and leant back in the chair, patting your thigh in invitation. "Come here." He stepped closer, unsure of how to proceed, so you gripped his hips and pulled him down to straddle your leg. He whimpered at the sudden pressure on his cock.

"Do you want to cum tonight, sweetheart?"

Levi nodded eagerly.

"After your behavior today, you're going to have to earn it."

Seeing Levi's curious expression, you stroked one finger up his length, making him buck forwards into your touch.

"You're going to get yourself off on my leg, and I'm going to watch, understood?"

He nodded again, whining as you pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

"Good. Don't keep me waiting."

Levi wasted no time in grinding down against your thigh, immediately moaning around the gag at the feel of your rough denim jeans against his sensitive cock. It seemed that just having him in such a position was more than enough to get him worked up - your dynamic before had been rather gentle, with only a small power imbalance, so it was a sudden shift to now be in this position, with yourself fully clothed but with Levi naked, bound, and entirely at your disposal.

As you watched Levi rut desperately against you, you thought back to the moment he asked to try this. He told you that he wanted to be used, helpless, humiliated, although he had been rather shy about it to begin with. With the words almost failing to come out, he blushed deeply when you suggested trying it for the first time. You promised it would be a surprise, to keep him on edge with the anticipation and add to the experience when it finally happened, and you certainly hadn't disappointed him if his moans were any indication.

Every thrust of his hips teased him closer to the edge, and as much as you loved to touch Levi usually, this had to be something he did on his own. Knowing that this was all because of his own intense desire, that it wasn't you controlling his movements, that it was his decision to act like a bitch in heat, would only make his feelings of shame more pressing.

You never took your eyes off him for one second, content in the knowledge that it made him feel just that bit more vulnerable, until you glanced at the mirror mounted on the adjacent wall. Levi had clearly forgotten it was there in his pleasure-induced stupor, so you decided that it wouldn't hurt to remind him.

Gripping his chin carefully, you tilted his head to the side so he could see exactly what he looked like in that moment; the mirror was at the perfect angle to reflect every single thing he was doing, all his wanton desperation captured in that perfect image. Although he flushed red in humiliation, he couldn't bring himself to stop his actions, being forced to look himself in the eyes as he rode your leg, and he whimpered in embarrassment as he drooled around the ball gag.

"Look at you, Levi. You're pathetic, aren't you?"

His movements never faltered, but tears began to well up in his eyes as you kept him facing the mirror.

"Imagine if everyone else could see this, hm? Their mighty captain reduced to a needy little slut..."

He sobbed, droplets rolling down his face, and sped up, nearing his high.

"Do you need to cum, Levi?"

A frantic nod in response.

"Do you deserve it? Do you think you've earned it?"

More nodding.

"And you've learnt your lesson?"

A nod and a pitiful whine.

"Very good. Cum for me, Levi."

Tears streaming down his face, Levi moaned as he reached his peak and came with a sharp cry, the sensations all becoming too much for him to bear. He trembled as he came down again, panting and leaning forward to rest his head on your shoulder.

"You've done so well for me, sweetheart," You cooed, reaching behind him to unfasten the gag and untie the rope, putting them both back on the table and taking Levi's hands. He looked up at you and you wiped his tears. "How are you feeling?"

Still catching his breath, he nodded, pressing his forehead against yours. "It... it was really good."

"Not too much?" you questioned, stroking his hair.

"It was perfect... thank you mistress..."

"I'm glad. Now let's get cleaned up, then we can rest. Does that sound alright?"

"Mhm..." Levi smiled lazily and nuzzled against your neck. "As long as I'm with you."

[lordoftherazzles]

Can I you write something on jealous thorin! I am dying to read something like that... Like Bilbo going somewhere and getting flirted by someone (except elves and dwarves) for example by a normal handsome person. And even Bilbo is attracted and stupified by his elegance and his slender body.

Thank you so much for this prompt!! I love writing a grumpy guy. This one was a lot of fun for me and gave me an opportunity to explore a "during the quest" setting! I hope you enjoy it!

prompt "I do believe our burglar has a type,"

word count 2175

relationship(s) thorin oakenshield/bilbo baggins

character(s) thorin oakenshield, bilbo baggins, the company of thorin oakenshield

additional notes this one was insanely fun for me, that's all I gotta say! I'm LOVING these prompts and ideas you guys are giving me!!

-----

Thorin didn’t like Lake-Town.

Namely, the Master and his greasy little sidekick, but they were given more of a welcome and more accommodation than the bargeman had been able to secure. The sooner they were out of here, the better, but there was still a bit of time before Durin’s Day, and there was no need to camp aimlessly outside of a hidden door.

Celebrations and the promise of riches for all had kept spirits rather high, except for Thorin’s. He had tried to put on a mask, the type that was reserved for social affairs that he hadn’t been a part of since he was a much younger lad. Thankfully this was nothing like the social gatherings that had been held between Erebor and Dale once upon a time.

There was that stench of stale ale in the air, as well as fish, but that seemed to sum up Lake-Town entirely. Thorin sat near the end of one table, tapping his fingers against the wood as his glare seemed to be burning into the back of someone at the second table that housed his company.

Feeling an elbow jam into his own, a scowl formed on his lips as Kili wedged himself to sit at the table, sitting far too close for Thorin’s comfort. “Why the long face, Uncle?” Kili chimed, a small slur to his voice as he had a mug in one hand and the other hugging onto Thorin’s arm. At least the alcohol was keeping the younger dwarf from grimacing every single time he took a step. That shot to Kili’s leg had been bound, but certainly not healed.

“I’m fine,” Thorin insisted with a growl before Fili wedged in on his other side.

“You don’t look fine to me. I know that look. You’re angry.” Fili nearly had a sing-song tone to his voice, but at least he didn’t reek of ale as Kili did.

Another nudge at Thorin’s elbow had the leader of the Company squishing in on himself so that he wasn’t bumping elbows. It was a failed effort.

“Could it be because a certain someone has his attention fixated on someone else? I do believe our burglar has a type,” Fili gave Thorin’s arm a comforting pat, not trying to sound teasing whatsoever. Though the same couldn’t be said for Kili.

“What? Tall, dark, and broody?” Kili sputtered out with a laugh, spilling a quarter of his mug across the table. “Though, I do suppose Uncle could be considered tall for a dwarf!”

Thorin’s face was flushed, be it by both anger as well as embarrassment as he felt his ears burn. He couldn’t let his eyes tear away from Bilbo’s back, or the small nods of fascination that seemed to come from the hobbit as he was engaged in deep conversation with one of the Lake-Town locals.

A tall fellow, dark hair wedged beneath a hat and a beard that surpassed even Thorin’s own. Not that the dwarf was examining this fellow that much, but he was one of the more reasonable fellows to look at in this fisherman’s town. Never before had Thorin been concerned about his appearance, not like this, and yet here he was, idly reaching a hand up towards his shorter beard and scrubbing at the coarser hairs that didn’t measure up to any sign of beauty among dwarves.

“There is a solution in all of this, Uncle. You could just go over there and sweep the burglar off his feet for yourself?” Fili offered up, trying to sound helpful, but he was fixated with a glare that told him to snap his jaw shut.

“I am not bothered if Mister Baggins chooses to socialize during our stay. I will not tell my company who they may or may not speak with.”

“Yeah, but it’s what we do with those we speak with that may capture more of your attention, right?” Kili jammed his elbow into Thorin’s arm again. “Or rather, one specific person. You couldn’t give a whit what Fili or myself do while we’re here, or Dwalin or Nori, but you get my point. However, when it comes to him, you care.”

“I do not care,” Thorin insisted once more, feeling like a tightly sealed vault full of feelings instead of gold.

“All we’re saying is that if you’re waiting for the right moment to make your move, it’s probably now. Or someone is going to beat you to it.” Fili always seemed to be slightly more mature one of the two nephews, but his words were just as unwanted as Kili’s.

“You’re both wretched little creatures and the topic will cease, now.” Thorin’s stern tone seemed to ward off more harassment when it came to Bilbo, save for one parting statement.

“Alright, we’ll sod off, but I gotta say, green just isn’t your color, remember that.” Fili gave Thorin’s shoulder a fond pat before moving to fish his younger brother away from the table with no small amount of difficulty. That wound, accompanied by a few mugs of ale, didn’t make it easy for anyone to toddle off.

Thorin was left to his own devices, tapping his fingers again against the table as he stared and simmered and let the words of his nephews influence that agitation brewing on the inside. Just what did Bilbo find so appealing about this fellow he was chatting and laughing with? What sort of stories could a fisherman in this drab place have to tell? So yes, Thorin was jealous, almost on an embarrassing level. It made him even more agitated to feel this way, but then again, these were feelings that he hadn’t felt before.

Life had been hard and duty-bound for so long, and where Thorin Oakenshield had assumed he had seen it all, he was now being sent into an uncomfortable frenzy over some butterflies in his stomach. It made his insides hurt, but there was a quest to focus on, and the rest could wait until after. A mountain was far more important than his silly little love life. Once he reclaimed his homeland, surpassed the expectations of those around him, and set Erebor back on the path to greatness-

Oh, who was Thorin kidding? Bilbo would be long gone by then.

It made a sinking feeling enter his stomach, tearing at those angry butterflies as he dropped his head some. What was more important? Pining? Or extreme focus on winning a mountain? If he let this go, would Thorin ever truly be focused on the quest at hand?

Swallowing thickly as he lifted his eyes to catch a lingering hand at Bilbo’s back, whatever tentative stare had dared to glance towards Bilbo was snuffed out in favor of a roaring blaze of a glare.

Jolting up from his seat and rounding the table towards the next, Thorin held zero hesitation to land a hand next to where Bilbo was leaning on the table - dreamy eyed and seemingly enamored with this fisherman fellow sitting next to him. “Master Baggins, if you don’t mind I’d like a few moments of your time.” Bright blue eyes darted towards the tall fellow who looked rather perplexed at the sudden dwarf’s appearance. “Alone.”

Bilbo gave a small wave of dismissal, “I best take this conversation, though I appreciate the fine stories you brought. You don’t want to see this one in a bad mood,” Bilbo teased, clearly indicating that Thorin was temperamental and unpleasant and- well, maybe he was right. The hobbit shifted in his seat as he and Thorin were left alone, staring up towards the standing dwarf and looking rather delighted - much to Thorin’s dismay. “What’s so important now, Thorin?”

“I did not expect for you to be such an obvious flirt,” Thorin grumbled, a bit of displeasure to his tone as Bilbo’s face twisted to more surprise than anything.

“Me? Oh, that?” Bilbo had a grin twitching on his lips. “Does that bother you?” Bilbo twisted in his seat, looking over towards the bar where his previous company had sauntered off to. “He is rather attractive, isn’t he? A bit rugged looking, with long locks to die for, and quite a nice beard.” Bilbo rubbed the air around his chin as he was describing said beard, eyes darting to the corners as he barely caught Thorin’s frustration in his sights.

“I suppose.” Thorin hissed between his teeth, shifting in his boots and wondering just how far a chair could sail if he kicked it.

“Though I prefer blue eyes, myself. His were brown, and he wasn’t a dwarf. A moody dwarf, specifically.” Bilbo spoke as he patted the seat next to him. “Do you wish to join me, Thorin Oakenshield?”

Thorin was certain his jaw could hit the floor as he stood there and felt his face heat up. Bilbo looked entirely too content and pleased while he stood there like some red faced fool. “I...I beg your pardon?”

“I was wondering how long it would take you to stomp over here instead of huffing over there. Thorin, if you think you’re subtle, you’re not.” Giving the seat next to him another pat, Bilbo used his free hand to claim the stein before him once more. “You’ve been staring at me all night, and ever since we escaped Mirkwood for that matter, but I wasn’t going to bring that up.” And yet he had.

Thorin stood there dumbstruck for a moment before slowly sinking into the seat next to Bilbo’s own in silence. Gnawing at the inside of his cheeks for a good moment, the dwarf wasn’t entirely sure what to say. Had he truly been that obvious? Thorin thought himself a rather reserved fellow who was decent at schooling his emotions and expressions. Perhaps he wasn’t nearly as good at that craft as he assumed. “And all of this was just for show?” He asked quietly, finally daring to look towards Bilbo at his side with extreme caution.

“Really, Thorin…? Are you truly this dense?” Bilbo’s laugh sadly was not contagious. He was an observant sort, at least for the most part, so as he noticed Thorin’s face turn a touch redder, Bilbo quieted down before nudging Thorin’s arm a bit and dropping his voice. “I simply figured you had enough on your mind without adding myself to the mix.”

Which was exactly what Thorin had planned on. Win the mountain, secure Erebor’s future, and then the rest would follow. Well, as he had told Balin before, plans changed.

“Plus, watching you squirm between your troublesome nephews was rather amusing.” Bilbo grinned proudly.

Thorin’s brows furrowed slightly as he shifted his gaze and felt a little bit of that embarrassment start to flow away from his face, though still rosy cheeked. “You’re as considerate as you are cruel, you know that?” Purposely driving that jealousy to a point where Thorin couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I’ve been called worse,” Bilbo reached up just as Thorin leaned down, latching his hands against both of those braids that lined the sides of Thorin’s head, giving them a small tug before both of them came to a pause at bumping noses and foreheads. “Ah, Thorin?”

“Are you truly wanting to ask me a question right this second?” Thorin murmured, bright blues focusing on the hazel ones that were so incredibly close to his own.

“Well…” Bilbo started before his eyes flickered to the side, which caused Thorin’s own to shift, following Bilbo’s gaze.

A table crowded with dwarves all staring with amusement and all the cheekiness in the world.

Thorin pulled back slightly, fully turning his head to face that company of his with a small sigh escaping his lips, but he didn’t look nearly as put out as one might expect.

“Don’t make me come over there and smash your heads together!” Dwalin barked over the table, earning a chorus of laughter - and even a small huff of amusement from Thorin.

Bright blue eyes shifted to meet hazel eyes once more. “I don’t fancy being entertainment for anyone,” he started while sliding from his seat, “save for you, Master Baggins.”

That low murmur just about sent Bilbo melting into the floorboards as a large hand engulfed his own. “I should have started flirting with others a lot sooner,” Bilbo chuckled before being fixed with a look as he too was slipping from his seat.

“I would be most obliged if you saved your flirting for me. Alone. Away from this miserable audience.”

And boy did he not have to tell Bilbo twice. The hobbit followed one a step or two behind Thorin, one of his smaller hands still gripped in a larger dwarven one, and honestly, propriety and expectations could go hang themselves. Bilbo didn’t give a whit at the groans and catcalls that followed during Thorin and Bilbo’s retreat, but no doubt there would be more conversation to be had in the morning over breakfast...

...Or perhaps second breakfast. Bilbo had a feeling that sleeping in tomorrow may be inevitable.

[rayshippouuchiha]

Nezu finding a younger Izuku and helping him hone his analysis skill (and build some confidence and ultimately creating a terrifying child who can analyze anyone in seconds and take them down just as fast with a smile) and then enlisting him to actually teach classes on the subject

just imagine Aizawa having to interact with this terrifying nightmare child who can read him better than a book

~Ah hell here we go again~ Read More Below!

Nezu doesn’t often leave UA’s grounds these days and even more rarely does he venture out unaccompanied in some way.  He has made it a habit of sorts to stay on the campus as much as possible ever since he solidified his hold on the school almost a decade ago.

It’s a move that is he admits, even if only to himself, fueled by equal parts pragmatism and paranoia.

After all UA has most of everything he needs within it already including a set of private apartments scaled just perfectly to his size and tastes despite what impression the large, human suited desk in his public office tends to give any visitors to his domain.  Why should he worry about venturing out into the city when anything the campus might not be able to provide for him can easily be procured by his minions dear employees or through delivery via secured drone?

And the fewer trips he makes off campus means the fewer opportunities there are for those who are still displeased with something someone such as himself holding such a position of power over such a prestigious hero school to take action.  He, of course, has all faith in his ability to protect himself from whatever ham-fisted assassin might come his way but Nezu is, above almost all else, pragmatic.

The fewer bodies left in his wake the smoother his daily life tends to run.

It had, after all, been such a pain to get the records from his time at the tender mercies of his human captors completely sealed and the quietly buried.

The humans involved in the case had finally agreed though and in the years since they did so like to tout how the illustrious UA Principle had been “rescued” from the laboratories.

Few remained who remembered what the heroes who’d raided that hellish place had actually found when they’d arrived.

Those unlucky few who did remember had long since been silenced by hook or by crook.  That had been one of the first things Nezu had done when he’d finally managed to accumulated enough power that his subtle threats and sharp toothed promises had finally come to hold real meaning on more than one level.

When he’d finally managed to bite and claw himself into a position of power that showed him as the threat he always had been for those who might dare cross him.

That had been the very first secret he’d ensured would be kept as it was one that posed the biggest threat to his reputations in a number of circles.

Nezu’s intellect wasn’t his only weapon after all, only his most dangerous. Though his teeth and claws could work in a pinch if the situation called for it.  And when they’d tried to take his eye it had certainly called for it.

A self professed level of resentment and sadism could be excused by most of humanity for someone of Nezu’s circumstances.

But a body count?  Well. That’s when humans tended to get ... tetchy. 

So while Nezu does, of course, have a residence of his own off campus for paperwork purposes and as a secondary fall back location, UA’s campus has been his unofficial residence for some number of years now.  And it will be his official one as well as soon as he manages to finally get the dorm system he’s been aching to implement passed through.

They will have to pry that school, his school, and what he’s attempting to build there from his cold, dead paws and whatever other insurance policies he manages to put into action between now and his inevitable death. Which will, of course, be some time in the far far future if he has anything to say or do about it.  And he will.

All of that aside there are times when leaving the campus is unavoidable, this being one of them.  An unfortunate scheduling conflict and a private meeting that absolutely had to be conducted in person had left him where he is now, strolling down the sidewalks of Musutafu and quietly lamenting how very oversized so many things were.

It truly was a pity that more accommodations had not been made for those whose quirks and circumstances of birth left them on the smaller side instead of on the larger scale.  But progress could be rather unfortunately slow and so it was just one more issue Nezu hoped to begin subtly influencing in the coming years.

He’s just turning a corner, intent on visiting a nearby cafe with an excellent tea selection before he returns to UA (one must have their indulgences and a good brew and a finely crafted cigarette have long been amongst Nezu’s chosen pleasures), when he hears it.

“Get back here and get what you deserve, Deku,” a voice, rough and young but edged with a viciousness that makes the backs of Nezu’s teeth itch, practically howls.

Nezu, attention instantly captured, pauses just long enough to avoid being mowed down by the child who comes tearing around the corner.

For a split second their eyes meet, a blazing green gaze Nezu can’t help but admire just a bit locking with his own, as the boy sees him and swerves to avoid running into Nezu in his obviously frantic escape.

Nezu hops backwards a half step just as the boy loses his footing and crashing painfully to the side walk beside him.

“A-Are you o-okay?” the boy half stutters, half pants as he looks up at him, eyes wide and seemingly uncaring of the blood Nezu can already smell on his scraped palms and likely ripped kneecaps.

“Are you?” Nezu asks back evenly, eyes tracking over the boy and instantly compiling details and facts as he takes in the tattered school uniform, the pale face, the singed backpack and the bruises he can see just peeking out from beneath unseasonal long sleeves.

Everything about the boy screams battered to Nezu’s sense.

And then he looks down at his feet and sees his shoes.

His distinctive red shoes at that, vibrant in color and thick soled, subtly different in make and construction than most ordinary shoes seen these days, much like the footwear Nezu himself wears even now.

Which means that this boy either has a quirk that affects his feet or ...

“Thought you were going to get away didn’t you, you Quirkless fuck?” A small group of boys rounds the corner then, ignoring Nezu entirely and focusing on the boy who abruptly goes even paler somehow.  “Just cause sensei couldn’t prove you cheated doesn’t mean we’re gonna let you get away with it.”

Ah, Nezu thinks even as he presses the urge to snarl down and away, option two then.

The green boy, because Nezu will not be calling him Deku even in his own mind, scrambled up onto his feet then.  But, surprisingly enough, he doesn’t turn to run.

Instead he edges forward just a bit, sliding a shoulder and a foot forward until he’s standing almost protectively in front of Nezu himself.

“K-Kacchan,” the green one stutters, “I-I didn’t cheat I s-swear!  I wouldn’t d-do that.”

“Tsk,” the blond leader, Kacchan, tisks then, a snarl thick and heavy on his young face.  At his sides his hands flex in a move Nezu knows must be related to his quirk.  “Bullshit.  No way you’d get top of the class in anything without cheating, you worm.”

Nezu has known this child for roughly 6 seconds and he finds that he does not care for him at all.  But then he’s never been overly fond of most of humanity either so perhaps that’s to be expected.

“H-Heroes don’t cheat,” Green insists, the naïve if well meant words sounding like a declaration.  “If I’m g-going to be a hero then I c-can’t either.”

That explanation only seems to enrage Kacchan even further if the way his hands begin to pop and crackle is anything to go by.

This, Nezu knows as the scent of burnt caramel begins to fill the air around them, is going to escalate quickly.

“Public quirk usage is ~illegal~,” Nezu singsongs as he steps around the green boy and plants himself firmly in front of him instead, abruptly drawing the blond boy and his followers attention toward him.  One paw slips into his vest pocket to remove the specially designed cell phone he’s never without.  “I would hate to be forced to report this to the proper authorities.”

Never mind that, technically, he is the proper authorities.

The blond glares at him for a long moment before he huffs.

“This isn’t over Deku,” he snarls.  “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

It’s an obvious threat but the boy turns on his heel, shoves his way through his friends, and stalks off back around the corner in the direction he came.

So Nezu lets it go.  For now.

“Now that that has been handled for the moment, young man,” Nezu turns towards the green boy beside him with all of the showmanship that’s come to define his patented introduction, “let me introduce myself! Am I a dog, a rat, or a bear? Either way I am Nezu th-”

“Y-You’re the Intel Hero Nezu,” the green boy says brightly, cutting Nezu’s introduction off even as he rubs raw and bloody palms against his black slacks and starts to dig through his backpack, “You solved the H-Hanamura kidnapping and the Inugami murders! You’re one of my favorite heroes!”

Nezu can’t help the way he stalls out just a bit at that because ... well he’s never been anyone’s favorite anything.  Their nightmare yes but not their favorite.  Especially not a child.  Children around this age normally tend to have more simplistic reactions to him.  And most of them don’t know about the string of rather gruesome ritualistic homicides he’d solved or the high profile kidnapping cases he consults on in his down time.

“C-Can you please sign my notebook?” the boy says then, head bowed low and a notebook and pen held out in Nezu’s direction.

Nezu admits to being slightly intrigued when he sees the way the cover is labeled Hero Analysis For The Future Vol 8.

That intrigue only grows when he opens it and his attention is immediately captured by the rather impressively done sketch of Pro Hero Starstreak that he finds there.

Unable to help himself Nezu reads over the page quickly and then keeps going.

Well now, Nezu can’t help but think just a bit gleefully as he sees the absolutely unbelieve level of analysis this young, quirkless boy has compiled, isn’t this interesting.

[imkylotrash]

Meet Me In The Hallway (5)

Pairing: Sky x reader

Summary: You confront Stella asking her to let Sky go one last time but she refuses, leaving you with no other option. You have to tell him the truth yourself. 

Tagging: @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @grey-girl @intoanothermind @artsyle​ @kaii-ya​

Series Masterlist

A/N The secret is something I made up entirely to add to the drama and is in no way part of the actual series. 

You wake up sweating. Sky has completely engulfed you with his body and adding the duvet in the summer time is just asking to get a heatstroke. Carefully, you untangle yourself needing a glass of water in order for you to cool down. When you return, you notice he’s awake. 

“I thought you might have left,” he said holding out his arms for you to come back and join him again but something stops you. There’s still a massive secret between the two of you and you’re worried it might tear him from you. 

“I needed some water,” you smile but you don’t return to bed. You know if you get back into his arms your resolve will fade away and you won’t talk to Stella today but you need it to stop. Either she backs off or you’ll tell Sky yourself. 

“I have to go do something today. But I’m hoping it’ll make things better,” you say probably confusing him more than explaining. But you’re hoping he won’t have to know what happens today even though your brain tells you that your hope is feeble. Once you’ve changed and promised Sky that you’ll return soon, you head out to find Stella. It’s not hard to find the princess of Solaria but it is hard to get her attention. She’s making a point out of ignoring you instead talking about right up until you grab hold of her wrist letting just a little ice freeze her skin. 

“What the hell?” she yelps forcefully ripping her arm out of your grasp. Her skin has gone pale where you held on but you know it’ll only take minutes for her to get warm again. 

“I need to talk to you.” At least she excuses herself from the group of fairies following you to a more private setting.

“What do you want?” she asks inspecting her nails to appear unbothered but you know your little magic trick back there rattled her. She’s not used to other fairies standing up to her having lived on the respect for her title as princess for a long time. 

“I want you to forget what that file said about me and let me be with Sky. You gave it your best shot but it didn’t work. Let him go. Please.” You’re ready to do some begging and grovelling to make her comply but you quickly realise that it’s futile. 

“I’m sorry, you don’t really have any leverage here. And you certainly don’t get to decide when it’s over between me and Sky.” She has that sickly smile plastered on her face that you have no doubt her mother made her perfect when she was a child.

“But Sky gets to decide that. He doesn’t want you. Why are you trying so hard to stay with someone who doesn’t want you back?” You know this isn’t the best approach but you feel like you’re going insane even having this conversation. You can’t force someone to love you no matter how much you love them.

“Sky doesn’t know what he wan-”

“He wants me!” you yell not even caring who hears you at this point. You know there’s no going back from this. She’s going to tell the school about your parents and all you can do is make sure you tell Sky first. 

“Careful, Y/N. I already blinded one girl.” Her hands glow with light orbs but you’re not worried. One flick of your wrist and her hands will be too frozen to even perform magic. Defensive magic at its best and Stella knows that too. 

“You know what? I don’t care. You want to tell the school? Go ahead.” You turn your back to her and walk away. All the way to your room fairies point fingers and whisper all because you’re a changeling and you imagine it’ll be much worse tomorrow. Sky is right where you left him though this time he’s freshly showered. 

“Did you do the mysterious thing?” he asks you with a smile closing the book he’d been reading while waiting for you to return. You’re not sure how to start this but you pray he won’t be disgusted by you when you’re done. 

“I need to tell you something,” you whisper and he turns serious instantly. You walk over to sit on the edge of the bed without so much as look in his direction. You’re not sure you’ll be able to look at him at all once you start talking. 

“My parents gave me up. That’s how I became a changeling but the reason they gave me up is because they decided that the fairy magic wasn’t enough. They turned into witches. Dark, evil witches.” You take a deep breath to steady yourself thankful that Sky stays quiet until you’re done. Because admitting to your parents being witches isn’t the worst thing you’ll have to admit to. 

“When I say evil, I mean really evil. They started a coven so they could go to war against Solaria. We read about it last year, remember? The Great Fall. That was my parents. They killed a lot of good people that day,” you say finally looking over at Sky. You search his face for any sign that could indicate how he feels but he keeps his face blank like a canvas. 

“How long have you known?” You have to stop yourself from laughing because you’ve just told him that your parents gave you up in order to take over the Otherworld as witches and do horrible things to fairies from all the realms but he’s concerned with how long you’ve known?

“A couple of years now. Dowling helped me do the research when she found me.” You wish you could read his mind and figure out what he’s thinking. Is he scared? Does he want to run away? 

“My father was killed in battle but my mother was captured. She’s still alive as far as I know trapped in a maximum-security prison in Solaria. They say she’s gone completely insane.” You’re terribly ashamed of the family you come from. If you could’ve gone through life without anyone knowing where you came from, you would’ve been fine with that. You don’t want people to know because you wish you didn’t know yourself. 

“So, you’ve known this about yourself for years but you never told me? Not after we said I love you? Not after I bared my soul and shared my deepest thoughts and memories? You were just keeping that piece of information to yourself?” Now he looks angry but you’re not sure what he’s actually angry about. You’re about to say something but he isn’t done. 

“Did you not trust me? Maybe you didn’t think to bother because this thing between us wouldn’t survive anyway.” 

“No! That’s not why I didn’t tell you,” you exclaim confused as to how he even came to that conclusion. Does he not understand the kind of shame that comes with something like that? His father died a hero, he’s never had to deal with these kinds of emotions. 

“Then why didn’t you? You could’ve trusted me. I would never tell anyone.” That’s when you realise that he’s not angry, he’s hurt. Hurt that the one person in the world he thought kept no secrets was keeping a massive secret from him. 

“Stella found out and threatened to tell the entire school starting with you. And so I tried to hide it and stay away but I couldn’t. I had to tell you so that you heard it from me and not her.” He’s quiet for a second processing what you just told him.

“So, the only reason you’re telling me this now is because Stella found out? You would’ve lived your entire life not telling me and feel fine about that?” He’s looking at you like you’re a stranger and you can’t blame him. He’s right. He’s been nothing but honest with you admitting every thought he’s ever had and here you are hiding a huge part of your history. The worst part is that you can’t even argue against what he’s saying because you can’t in good conscience say that you would’ve told him if Stella hadn’t forced your hand. 

“I need some air.” He gets up and grabs his jacket before heading for the door. 

“Sky, please stay. Let’s talk about this,” you plead hoping he’ll turn around and tell you everything is going to be okay. 

“If I stay, I’m going to say things I regret.” 

[mitsukui]

blessed be the mystery of love. | f.w.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader.

Summary: Fred Weasley seems to be a new boy: he has fallen in love, and a couple of unexpected things have come along with it. Apparently, his recently discovered romantic interest has never heard of him, and he is now someone who...writes...love letters?! Well, that is surely weird...

Word Count: 2k.

Warnings: none!

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: this is probably my favorite so far! I’ve been working on it for such a long time, so I hope you all enjoy it! I’m honestly such a sucker for soft Fred...Please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention ❤

Masterlist!

Dark brown eyes studied your silhouette surreptitiously, which was utterly uncommon for their owner. One who once was daring now hid behind heart-felt walls that looked like you. A flirtatious behavior had been replaced by occasional stuttering and disinterest in other romantic affairs.

People around him could effortlessly notice the situation was taking its toll on him. However, they seemed too dumbfounded by it to say something – words were long gone from their lips, and from his own as well.

Fred Weasley had fallen desperately in love, but you were unaware of his existence.

Somehow, it sounded ironic: how could you not know about him?! Every single soul in Hogwarts knew who he and his twin were, and he enjoyed such a thing. Unlike his slightly younger identical brother, Fred was one to enjoy popularity and attention. He sought fame and recognition, and he would never complain if a few hookups came along with that.

And, yet, there you were – iridescent and untouchable. You were forcefully popping novel thoughts into his mind. Would you ever lay eyes on him? And if you ever did, what would you think and feel?

It was high time you noticed him, and he could only count on himself to make it happen.

Fred desired to make a different approach, one you had not yet seen. His eyes had captured a few other admirers here and there trying to get your heart, but none of them had achieved success. He ought to be the one to do that.

And love letters would most certainly help him get there.

Writing letters was an arduous task, and it consumed all of his energy. His quill scribbled fiercely against fragments of parchment, heavy sighs filled the silence around him, and every inch of his skin burned in longing and embarrassment. George could be easily found doing something like that; but not Fred. He could be found causing mischief or attaching his lips to someone else’s.

Nevertheless, there he was, combining words and allowing the dark paint to splash against the paper in order to pour his heart out.

His first letter was short – hesitant, almost; after all, it was impossible for him to know how you would react to the approach he had chosen. He had put so much effort into it, despite the small number of words and expressed feelings. It was crystal clear you deserved bigger things; even so, that scenario was entirely atypical to him.

He was just as disoriented as you were when a barn owl dropped an almost unimportant-considered envelope right in front of you, interrupting your breakfast in the Great Hall one morning.

He had been eyeing the owl entrances for a little while when he finally was able to spot the one he had previously picked for you. His lips trembled nervously, and his fingers traveled straight up. Lately, he had been developing a habit of biting his fingernails whenever he was anxious, and anxiety was the only emotion possible for that morning.

What if you ended up not liking the note? Maybe you would think he could be a creep or something similar to that. It was unknown whether you had a significant other or not. Were his words good enough? Would you ever look at him like he so lovingly looked at you?

One of your hands curiously reached out for the envelope while the other one briefly fed the owl. You furrowed your eyebrows together as your eyes ran through the lines: it was a tad difficult to read whatever was written on the parchment, given the handwriting was not one of the best. However, you managed to decode the message, and a smile soon spread across your lips. Despite the distance Fred watched you from, the boy could swear that even a small giggle spilled out from your lips.

The small note read something along the lines of:

“To the one who is now devouring my heart.

I mean no harm. My feelings are of pure admiration.

You are gold.

I hold you in my thoughts.

- W.”

The words he had previously written rang in his brain, and he felt ridiculous. He had never had a good relationship with words, writing, or anything related to that. Why on Earth had he chosen to write you a love letter? You were probably laughing at the stupidity that the note was drenched in.

You allowed both your curiosity to dwell in your core and your eyes to analyze the people who crowded the Great Hall that morning. You studied all the possibilities, and you did not notice Fred Weasley. He felt invisible and, for the first time, he enjoyed it.

After that, a second love letter was written. And then a third one, and even a fourth one, too! He grew bold once again, and his secret passion became stronger.

One day, dizzy due to his recently rediscovered boldness, he allowed his quill to dance against the parchment as he wrote you a fifth letter. This one was different from all the previous ones; he still offered you his heart and tried making you realize how much he secretly admired you. But there was something more to it – he sent you something else other than the letter alone.

The arrival of the usual owl in another freezing morning in Hogwarts quickly muffled the chatting and cutlery noises that hovered over every person in the Great Hall. It barely took you one second to smile at the sight, which caused Fred to smile himself – he absolutely adored your smile.

Those anonymous letters had become part of your daily routine, and they were something you eagerly waited for. Being both a Hogwarts student and a teenager at the same time was no easy duty. Your spirit tended to get overwhelmed from time to time, and you found yourself turning to the anonymous letters for an escape from the reality that surrounded you.

However, as soon as you brushed your fingertips against the envelope, you felt an additional weight to it, something that had never been there before. Attempting to waste no time, you reached for the letter, and a smile did not fail to paint your face; it was so easy for him to make you smile, even though you still did not know who he was.

“I must know whatever fills your heart once your eyes reach the very last word in each of my letters.

Would you mind wearing this little thing if you are not bothered by me and my confessions?

It is small and simple, but it is given to you with love.

As always, I hold you in my thoughts.

- W.”

And then, you finally saw it: a tiny decorative pin, which you figured it out as to be put on your robes. It was shaped as a white envelope sealed with a red heart. You disagreed with the words written on the letter, once you did not see it as something simple. It was beautiful. It was your new favorite thing. It was attached to your robes in the flash of an eye. And how it could not be?!

You profoundly enjoyed his secretive actions. For you, it was extremely sweet that someone admired you so much that they chose to sit down and write you comforting and loving words. A pure energy radiated from every single thing he had sent you, and you wished for an identity reveal. You wished to discover whoever your secret admirer was only to confess you also admired them, mostly because of the sweetness existing in their personality.

It was high time you solved this mystery, and you could only count on yourself to make it happen.

When his sixth letter arrived, you had one of your own as well. You did not bother reading his words right away; after all, you had more important things to do. The barn owl was distracted by one of your hands, offering it small pieces of buttered toast, while the other tied the words you had previously written up its leg.

“Can you do this for me?” You whispered gently to the animal standing close to you. As funny as it sounded, you had grown fond of that owl in a way, too. “Take this back to the one who’s been sending you to me, alright? I promise you I won’t peek! I’m asking them to meet me tonight, in Classroom Eleven. Do you think they will come?” An airy chuckle left your lips and you swore your heart was melting at how much attention the owl seemed to be paying to your words. Before it took off, the animal playfully nibbled your fingers and your smile grew wider.

Like promised, you did not allow yourself to look wherever the owl was going to. All of your curiosity was being saved for later that night. There was no way for you to know if he would ever show up, and that hurt your insides a bit. What if it had all been a cruel joke?

The same wonders that once had haunted his brain now haunted yours.

But the night did not cease to fall, and the moon did not cease to shine. It was terribly cold, but your feet still automatically took you to Classroom Eleven, one of the classrooms that were hardly ever used for classes or any other purposes. It was a risky place, given the fact that it was of so easy access. However, you thought the possibility of getting caught was rather exciting. So you entered the classroom, as quietly as you could manage, and you waited.

Fred, on the other hand, could feel his stomach being punched repeatedly by a thousand of invisible hands. He was painfully apprehensive, and one of the signs that revealed that was his constant pacing in a deserted hallway.

He obviously would never stand you up, but the thought of running away popped up in his brain a few times. This was an extremely ridiculous behavior for someone like him. And even though he knew he had to get it done, he was still so intimidated by it all.

“Just rip it off like a band-aid.” The boy whispered to himself, his steps finding a slower pace and his hands being shoved into his pockets. Deep breaths were taken and he was finally able to gather all the courage he needed to walk towards and enter the classroom.

Your body was resting against an empty desk, which it seemed like it had not been used in years. Staring out the window, you secretly wished you had worn something better for that moment; perhaps, your pajamas and a long knitted cardigan over them had not been the best choice.

When you were about to start your seventh mental curse about your idiot choices, hesitant knocks on the door made a mess out of your line of thoughts. They came as a warning that things were about to either go very well or terribly bad.

And, then, a long silence followed. Both of you panicked, each one on a different side of the wooden door. You wondered if you should answer something to the knocks, he wondered if he should have said something. Your body was straightened up, and you suddenly realized your hands were getting slightly sweaty.

He opened the heavy door so slowly that, as you watched it, you could see your life flashing right in front of your eyes.

Finally, you spotted something in the dark. Peeking through the door, your eyes captured the sight of locks of an orange marmalade shaded hair entering the classroom. Right then and there, you felt like everything had just gained a new and brighter light.

You were breathless. The boy timidly standing there, still a bit far away from you, was the most stunning human you had ever seen.

His dark eyes observed you, both curiosity and fear being expressed wordlessly. He attempted to aim a small smile at you, which you gladly accepted and offered him another smile back.

After a few moments of intense stares and exchanged grins, your voice finally cut the comfortable silence that had been set between the two of you.

“The wonders are finally ceased.”

Tag list! ❤️  @efyra​ @writingsomewrongs​ @pineapplesandpinas​ @ronweaselysslut​ @fiction-is-the-new-reality @amourtentiaa​ @emmaev​

[bluejayblueskies]

agape

n. selfless, sacrificial, and unconditional love; love that motivates action, often for the sake or care of others 

Words: 2.3k Relationship: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood Tags: AU - Tea Shop/Bookstore, Fluff, Asexual Jonathan Sims Warnings: internalized acephobia/biphobia (minor,), fear of homo/ace/transphobia (brief, unfounded)

|| Ao3 ||

.

Martin remembers, with crystal clarity, the first time that he saw Jonathan Sims. Martin’s tea shop opens at seven in the morning to accommodate the morning commuter crowd, but they’re really busiest in the afternoon, which is when most people deign to take a break from whatever work they’ve got for the day.

 Jonathan Sims is not most people. At promptly seven, the jingle of the little bell that Tim had hung over the door once as a joke but that had lingered out of sheer practicality had cut through the gentle humming of the kettle, the small one that Martin preferred in the morning as it took no time at all to heat and the small volume of customers generally didn’t warrant the larger, stainless steel water heaters that sat along the back wall. Martin had had a box of loose-leaf English breakfast in his hand as he turned; he remembers the way the bitter smell of the leaves had mingled with the cool blast of winter air that swept through the door, carrying with it the scent of something acrid and ashy.

 Cigarette smoke, his mind helpfully supplied. Then, Martin’s eyes found the man who had entered the shop, his mouth forming the automatic greeting the bell always elicited from him, a well-trained habit that made him feel not dissimilar to Pavlov’s dog.

 “Welcome to Blackwood Blends! What can I get started for you?”

The man—and the likely source of the burnt smell still lingering in the air—startled slightly at the sound of Martin’s voice, like he hadn’t been expecting to be addressed directly. He was wrapped in a comically large scarf, knit from chunky yarn and laced with warm yellow and midnight black, and he looked like the kind of person who might blow away in the wind if he wasn’t careful. His hair, long and brown, was streaked through with grey and seemed to be fighting a losing battle with the hat that was currently struggling to keep it contained. There were at least two jumpers of startlingly different colors peeking out from underneath a heavy black pea coat that was missing a button near the bottom.

 He was also quite possibly the most beautiful person Martin had ever seen.

 He was there and gone before Martin quite knew what was happening, cradling a steaming travel mug of Ceylon close to his chest like it alone could drive away the January chill, and Martin found himself watching him through the café window as he crossed the street with barely more than a cursory glance in each direction, fumbled with something in his pockets for a moment, and finally vanished into the building across the street.

 Beholding Books & Antiquities, the sign above the door said in curling calligraphy, barely visible from this distance.

 Martin wondered, briefly, if they had poetry.

 Martin knows now that they do, but that the man—whose name, he’d learned on the man’s next visit to the tea shop, is Jon—wrinkles his nose when people purchase them like they’ve caused him some great offense. He knows that Jon never gets the same tea twice in a row, and though he’s cycled through every possible blend that Martin’s shop carries, he’s not a fan of herbals and finds himself returning to earthy greens and floral blacks. (Which, unfortunately, includes oolong, which may be the only kind of tea that Martin can’t stand.) He knows that the bookshop opens at ten in the morning (but that Jon never arrives later than eight) and that unlike the surge of afternoon customers Martin’s shop gets, the bookshop receives a steady trickle of local customers and curious tourists throughout the day.

 He knows that Jon smiles like it’s a secret he can’t quite decide if he wants to share and that Jon’s fingers are warm and soft when they brush against Martin’s as he hands Martin his new purchase and that he might be just a little bit in love with Jon.

 He spends quite a lot of time browsing for books nowadays, to Tim and Sasha’s eternal amusement. But he can’t bring himself to mind.

 Now, the nip of winter air is far behind them, and the lovely warmth of June seeps in through the cracks in the windows and in bursts as the door opens and closes. He always gets more business in winter, when the promised warmth of a cup of tea lures customers in from the cold, but it’s steady enough in the summer. And though Martin’s always been a lover of bulky jumpers and drinks that warm you from the inside out and breath that fogs in winter air, he can’t help but love the onset of summer, because it brings with it June and his favorite yearly tradition: Pride month tea blends.

 Martin finishes scrawling the various specialty drinks onto the chalkboard he keeps propped up on the counter, feeling a little burst of pride at the new tea blends he’s selected for this year. He creates them all himself, making little changes from year to year and brewing cup after cup for Tim and Sasha to try until he thinks they must be sick of tasting ten different versions of fruity Earl Greys. It just feels nice, to put a piece of himself into each cup he makes, and beyond that, the shyly excited looks some customers get when they order a certain blend fills him with a warmth that tingles in his veins for hours after.

 It feels nice, to take care of people this way. To let people find themselves in his tea and to share a bit of himself in kind.

 So when the bell jingles and Martin glances up from the blackboard to see Jon standing just inside the doorway, blinking as his eyes adjust to the dimness of the café, the thrum of affection that always overtakes him when he sees Jon is magnified tenfold, accompanied in equal part by a bite of nervousness. Because, he realizes, for all that he and Jon have talked about their jobs and favorites and hobbies and everything in between, they’ve never talked about this.

 Martin’s never been shy about it. His jacket is plastered with rainbow-striped patches, his bag adorned with enamel pins in purple-black-white-greys and in blue-pink-whites. He knows Jon’s seen them. Jon has to have seen them. He’s just… never mentioned it. And Martin gets the brief, terrifying, and completely unfounded worry that it’s because Jon is bothered by it.

 He shakes the thought off as quickly as it had come. No, he knows Jon. He knows that behind the prickly exterior, Jon is kind—so, so kind, and that he cares more about other people than he lets on. With a small, anxious laugh that Martin barely keeps contained beyond a brief exhalation, Martin realizes that he also knows that Jon is possibly also the most oblivious person Martin knows. It’s infinitely more likely that Jon hasn’t noticed—or has noticed and has decided not to say anything—than that Jon is somehow a completely different person than the one Martin’s gotten to know over the past five months.

 “Are you all right?”

 Martin startles so badly that he drops the chalk. It rolls dangerously close to the edge of the counter before a thin-fingered hand captures it mid-motion and holds it out toward Martin, the dusty white stark against his brown skin. Martin takes the chalk with a sheepish smile and says, “Ah, sorry—got a bit, er. Distracted.” Then, in a quasi-professional voice, because he is at work: “What can I get for you, Jon?”

 Jon doesn’t even glance at the menu; Martin’s almost certain that he has it memorized by now. He taps a finger on the counter, and as he thinks, his eyes wander downward, landing on the chalkboard that’s still laid flat against the counter, the bottom left corner slightly smudged. “Are these new blends?” Jon asks, eyes bright and curious. He tilts his head, trying to see the words better, and Martin quickly stands the chalkboard up on its wooden feet and returns it to its spot on the counter so that it’s easier to read.

 Well, no time like the present, I suppose.

 “They’re, ah, my seasonal blends!” Martin says with a smile he hopes doesn’t look as nervous as it feels. “I always do them in June.” He lets out a little, disarming laugh. “My own way of celebrating Pride month, you know?”

 Jon’s eyes are scanning the chalkboard with an intensity that makes Martin shift from one foot to the other at a pace far too quick to be casual, his hands finding the edge of the counter and gripping it like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. He can’t read Jon’s face; there’s something there, just below the surface, but he can’t get a handle on it. It keeps slipping away like wet bar soap when he tries too hard to get a grip on it, and eventually, he just gives up, waiting for Jon to finish with his heartbeat sitting high in his throat.

 Finally, after a period of time that feels just shy of an eternity and certainly too long to have been simply considering the merits of one tea blend over another, Jon looks at Martin with an expression that feels strangely vulnerable. “I… I can’t decide,” he says quietly, like this decision carries the weight of the entire world. He points a thin finger at the middle of the board, where bisexual berry is scrawled in spiraling letters that constitute Martin’s attempt at calligraphy. It’s an herbal blend, with bits of freeze-dried blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries. “I like most of this blend,” he says, “but er. Not on its own?” His finger moves down, nearly smudging the words asexual almond as it comes to rest atop the ingredients below them—Assam tea, almond flavoring, cinnamon sticks, and little white blossoms that Martin includes purely for the visual effect. “Some people think that black tea wouldn’t go well with herbal,” Jon says, studying the board like it has the secret to life itself scrawled upon the dusty black, “but they’re really not that different at all. It’s all tea, and- and liking one kind of tea doesn’t preclude you from liking another kind, right? So asking me to- to decide between one kind of tea and another is—well, it’s just ridiculous. There’s tea that I like and tea that I don’t and I don’t have to pick just one.”

 Jon’s still staring at the blackboard, his forehead creased in what could be concentration but could also be irritation. It’s still early enough that the tea shop is empty save for them; Tim and Sasha don’t come in until after noon as usually, Martin can handle the morning crowds by himself. And Martin is really quite sure that this isn’t about his tea at all. So, in the gentlest tone he can muster, Martin says, “You can order more than one kind of tea, you know.”

 Jon jerks his hand back, almost like he’d forgotten Martin was there. “I—what?”

 Feeling significantly less nervous than before, Martin adjusts the sign so that he can see it better and says, “These are all just suggestions, Jon. Blends that I like and ones that I’ve found that other people like too, but they’re not set in stone—people have all kinds of preferences, and when it comes down to it, it- it’s all just tea.” Then, because apparently he’s feeling bold today: “I- I can make a new blend if you’d like? One that, er.” Just say it, Martin. “One that’s for you, specifically. Whatever you’d like.”

 Jon’s eyes are as wide as saucers as he stares up at Martin, and Martin can’t help but shift nervously under his gaze. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that, that was weird, what a weird thing to say when someone’s coming out to you with bad tea metaphors, fuck fuck—

 “If- if you’d like,” Jon says quietly, slamming Martin’s thought spiral headfirst into a brick wall and nearly knocking him off his feet as he registers that Jon just said yes. “I’d like that. Though I- I do enjoy the flavors of berries and almonds together.” He smiles then, a wry thing that sends Martin’s pulse into the stratosphere and his stomach aflutter with butterflies whose wings gleam an iridescent rainbow against the backs of his eyes. (Not his best bit of poetic imagery, to be true, but he’s a little too busy being utterly in love with Jonathan Sims to think about much else.)

 Martin makes the tea, choosing the black over the herbal because elaborate metaphor or not, Jon really isn’t a fan of herbal teas. Blueberry is a strong enough taste to pair with the bitterness of the black tea and it couples well with almond and cinnamon, creating a flavor profile not unlike that of a blueberry muffin. And because Martin can’t help but think of Jon every time he smells it, he switches out the Assam for a Lapsang Souchong and Earl Grey blend—smoky and floral, smooth enough that it won’t overbalance the other flavors but robust enough to stand out.

 When Jon accepts the mug and takes his first hesitant sip, his face lights up in a way that Martin wants to see all day, every day for the rest of his life. And when Jon smiles at him, says, achingly soft, “Thank you, Martin. I love it,” and cautiously, gently places his hand over Martin’s where it sits on the counter, Martin thinks, for the first time, that maybe he can.

 Wouldn’t that be nice, he thinks. And the smile he gives Jon in return feels like a blank-paged book, waiting to be filled.

[razzle-zazzle]

1371 Words; Six Ninjas, One Hero

Blame the discord for this one

“So this is what the fearsome Ninja looks like,” Tim said, harshly gripping Cole’s jaw. “It’s less than I expected.”

Cole snarled. He flexed against the handcuffs securing him to the wall. Were it not for the vengestone, Cole wouldn’t be in this mess.

“I noticed you were using geokinesis today.” Tim drawled, pacing back and forth in front of Cole. “I wonder what it would take to see your other powers as well.”

Cole said nothing. He couldn’t give this guy anything. He was not going to be the one responsible for revealing the secret.

“Of course, I don’t expect you to actually tell me.” Tim mused, “You might not even know how your own powers work.” He scoffed. “They’re certainly not persistent.”

Cole shifted awkwardly. He had to get out of this situation on his own, before Tim realized that geokinesis was pretty much all Cole could do.

Before the others had to break the facade to bail him out.

No, Cole would get out of here. Tim would have to take off the vengestone to see Cole’s powers in action, and Cole could knock him out and get away then. The fact that Tim had seen his face was a problem, but it could be dealt with later.

“Well!” Tim smiled, hands clasping together, “There’s no time like the present!” He stalked over to Cole, his trench coat swaying ominously. “Let’s get you to the testing chamber, then, and see if we can’t draw out some of your other abilities.” He smiled, face splitting in a way that promised only pain.

But there was also an opportunity, here. Tim would have to unhook the handcuffs, and to do that, he’d have to undo at least one cuff. It may not grant Cole his powers, but it would give him dexterity.

Cole waited with baited breath as Tim moved closer, and closer, and closer—

Something pricked Cole’s arm. Tim stepped back.

“Don’t worry, little Ninja,” Tim grinned, “I intend to make things as painless as possible.”

Cole was dizzy. Why was he dizzy?

And then it hit him. Oh. Tim wasn’t taking any chances.

As Cole slipped away from consciousness, he wondered how he was going to get out of this situation.

+=+=+=+=+

Tim stood in the observation deck, waiting for his guest in the test chamber to wake up. It had been a simple matter of moving Cole to the chamber—well, simple when Tim ignored how heavy Cole was. But that was to be expected of a guy with a strongman build.

Finding out Cole’s name had been easier—all Tim had needed to do was run his face through several databases until he found a match. Digging into the background of one Cole Brookestone-Loure had yielded interesting results. The son of a famous performer who was himself unknown to the public. A good cover, for the revered Ninja of Ninjago.

But something about Cole wasn’t adding up. It was right there, on the tip of Tim’s tongue, but he just couldn’t place what it was, exactly, that was bothering him.

Well, Tim mused to himself as his guest began to awaken, I have all the time I need to figure out this puzzle.

And oh, did Tim love puzzles.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole awoke with a start, panic rising in his chest at the unfamiliar surroundings.

It was a simple room, with no discernible doors or windows. Slats in the ceiling provided ventilation.

Cole stood up, trying to shake the pins and needles from his limbs.

An unseen speaker crackled. “I see you’re awake.” Tim drawled, from somewhere outside the room.

Cole glanced at the walls again, searching for any hidden cameras.

There, in the corner.

Cole glared at the camera, crossing his arms.

“I notice there’s no loss of attitude.” Tim commented wryly. “Regardless, let’s not waste any more time, alright? I’ve got a few tests to go through and only so much time to do them today.”

Cole continued to glare.

“Now,” Tim began, “You’ll notice there’s a metal band around your neck. If you’re capable of putting two and two together, which I’m sure you are, you’ll realize it’s extra… motivation.”

Cole’s hand traced along the edges of the collar.

Tim continued to ramble, noting how a shock collar would be ineffective on a Master of Lightning, and how it was designed to deliver pain in a different way. Once Tim slipped into discussion of the design, Cole tuned him out, moving over to the walls, tracing his fingers along them to search for any sign of a door.

His earth sense extended an inch or two before cutting out. Probably vengestone. It was the same for each of the walls as well as the floor; Tim truly wasn’t taking any chances.

“...but of course, that’s enough rambling.” Tim said, as Cole tuned back in. “Now then, let’s get on with Test #1: Geokinesis.”

A portion of the ceiling opened up, depositing a small pile of sand before closing.

“I wonder,” Tim mused, “Can you only manipulate specific kinds of earth?”

Those seemed to be the only instructions Cole was getting. It was obvious what Tim wanted.

But then an idea occurred to Cole. Why should he comply? Why not pretend that his powers had left him entirely? He moved to sit down, ready to wait it out—

Something pricked at his neck, which was the only warning Cole received before his head seemed to split open, pulsing pain pounding away like a jackhammer.

“The sand, Cole.” Tim warned, as the pain receded.

Cole stared at the pile of sand, hands shaking. He wasn’t sure he was willing to risk another dose of whatever that was.

With great uncertainty, Cole called upon the powers passed onto him from his mother, letting the sand slip into focus. A quick move of his hand, and the pile reared up like a serpent, coiling and twisting through the air as Cole thoroughly demonstrated his mastery of the earth.

“Direct the sand into the funnel, please.” Tim directed, as the wall opened up to reveal another chute. “I’d hate to accidentally bury you alive.”

Cole did as directed, focusing on the thought of freedom the entire time. He would get out of here, and he would keep the facade intact.

Cole just wasn’t entirely sure as to how.

Another chute opened up, dropping loamy soil. Cole took control of it quickly, shaping it into a sphere before depositing it in the refuse chute.

Another chute. Gravel. Easy.

Quartz. Granite. Basalt. Marble. Obsidian. Andesite. Diorite. Clay. Silt. Pebbles. Rhodochrosite. Kyanite. Some fossilized shells. All types of earth, deposited one by one, for Cole to manipulate.

Tim was probably learning a lot about Cole’s powers. More than Cole was comfortable with Tim knowing. But it was better that Tim knew about Cole’s geokinesis than that there was more than one ninja.

Eventually, it stopped. The speaker once again crackled to life.

“My my, how the time has gotten away from me. I had more tests planned, but I suppose they shall have to wait for tomorrow.” Cole wasn’t sure how Tim managed to convey a shrug over speakers, but he did, “Now, if you’ll just relax, you will be rendered unconscious promptly and returned to your quarters.”

Indeed, Cole was already beginning to feel woozy.

But that was okay. Presumably, his cell wouldn’t be nearly as scrutinized as this room, allowing Cole opportunity to escape.

And he had to escape, sooner or later. Hopefully sooner.

And with that thought, Cole blacked out.

+=+=+=+=+

Tim was practically vibrating with excitement.

So many villains had tried to take down the unpredictable Ninja. So many had tried and failed. But now he, Tim, was in possession of the greatest puzzle in Ninjago! He was the one to have finally figured out the Ninja’s weakness, he was the one to have finally captured the Ninja who had so easily slipped out of others’ grasps!

Furthermore, the Ninja’s powers were simply fascinating. How did they work? What triggered them? Why could he only draw on one set at a time?

It was such a complex puzzle, and Tim intended to figure it out.

And Tim was very good at solving puzzles.

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 18)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

UPDATES FOR WITCHER OF THE NIGHT WILL BE PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY NOW IN MY TIME (GMT +8)

CHAPTER 17

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: The Djinn effects had reasons. A miracle for the Witcher but a threat for everyone in the Continent and this mystery had you placed under a curse that will give you bad fortune for you future and a child that he sorceress plans on ruining. 

Warnings: Mention of MCU. Iron man too. Blood. Witcher monster and sign. Curse words and degrading ones. Corporal punishment said and involved. 

Words: 8.4k+

A/N: Ghost readers, please do reblog my fic if you’re reading this so others can see it as well. Also people who are in my taglist, I hope you leave even just an emoji of feedback or reblog if you’re done reading. I appreciate the tiniest dot of comment ISTG. I’ve been in a writer’s block (and also mentally exhausted from writing too) but I’m trying my best to give y’all content or an update for WOTN. My mind has been jumping from one character over another so feedback will be nice to receive. Thank you and stay safe.

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! This is kinda a rough draft. I apologize for many errors, this has been a result of fast editing.

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. 

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

The Kaedwenians had the last laugh.

Jaskier couldn't keep you safe from anyone, not even a tiny fly. All he could do was be a distraction and be the special wingman for a witcher. But, when it's about protecting the ones he takes care of, Geralt has always been the answer to keep one safe---that he couldn't even take care of himself when he's caught in his shenanigans and monkey businesses.

His mutant friend could always be counted on, by hook or by crook.

Yet, he certainly will disappoint him when he knows what threat and problems happened after a day; only a darn day that he was away and kidnapping arose and hindered everything that the witcher wanted to avoid.

How did they know where his family even were?

Jaskier was limping alongside with Cirilla who has hauled him on her side, an arm slithering over his waist to drag him to where the dining chairs where. One out of ten? hence, this particular sunflower surrounded by a bunch of poison Ivy has been a bard all along.

Sunflowers don't have thorns nor poison. They were harmless. Soft. Bright. Just like him. But, the bees surely did its attack considering how he'd sliced two men on their necks. Nonetheless, it wasn't enough to keep you out of harm.

"Those bloody knights did a number on me!" he suddenly exclaimed out of nowhere; wincing and grumbling out profanities from his wounds as Cirilla went around to grab onto an empty pail, sprinting straight out to quickly come back with her bucket full of water for the bard.

Dried up blood designed his busted lip; plump and ruptured from the constant clouts he'd received. His lower lip were out in a pout, frowning his way from lightly tapping his wounds with a clean cloth; holding up a small mirror to his face. Disheveled doublet untied, the collar of his inner white tunic being a sketchpad of a kid who loved his red paint. Another nasty curse accidentally slipped out of his broken lip when Cirilla loudly dropped the bucket on the table with an obvious sight of panic, fright and anger written on her face.

Her thin, candle-like fingers slightly trembled from the handle and Jaskier had gotten a glimpse out of her fear, terrified for an important person in her life to be in the brink of death. Again. She didn't want it to happen especially when the princess has finally found comfort and light from you; like how her heart hoped to meet a woman who she could treat as her rightful mother.

She didn't want you to die; not like this, never. If only you could live long enough, longer than a normal human then it would be a part of her wishes.

"W-Will she be okay, Jaskier?"

Jaskier was hissing as he tried to take off his doublet. In his unfortunate case, he'd probably earned a fracture or two over his ribs and arm. But, it was far from any organ that will give him demise. He'd thought about it again before deliberating on leaving it on to continue patting the blood off his face, "No. I swear to the death of Valdomarx that the rat will not be fine in their hands, Princess Cirilla."

The bard went on in jawing away over his thoughts with some painful complaining here and there as he tried to wipe the blood off his face with a heavy amount of strength used because of how his arms were sore and aching, "Ow-ow-ow! Geralt needs to give what they want. However, going to the south swamps will be the only solution to alert the witcher,"

Jaskier tutted in exasperation when his dampened cloth grazed through the wound, making him sigh and close his eyes to calm down. The child has done the same, copying his reaction before reaching out to grab onto the cloth and tried cleaning his wounds for herself. He bellyached away over how she's been cleaning the wrong places but a simple sharp, warning of her blue eyes kept the toubadour fidgeting from the child care.

"It's been how many hours already since she was taken?" he sounded incoherent from trying to talk with his mouth never closing as Cirilla tried to pat over the pillows of his lips. She made him repeat his question, moving away from him to dip the cloth inside the bucket and squeezing the excess water out.

When she'd heard him repeat it much clearer this time, she thought for a second before turning her heel to face him again, raising a finger to show him the time it took.

"An hour or two."

He weakly nodded more to himself. The accident was utterly fresh inside their minds and Jaskier couldn't help but worry as the clock ticks by because he knew and understood that the people in their world were more cruel and grating to be with than in your kingdom that you have lived in for years, the bard was anxiously bouncing his leg up and down with his thoughts and solutions going in places.

"We can't go to where Geralt is tomorrow," he noted as a matter of fact, pausing to glare at Cirilla who leaned close and started caring for his wounds with heavy hands, "---all we can ever hope for is wait for the gods plan. Hush now, princess."

In Cirilla's point of view, hearing his response drove her bananas. They just couldn't wait for Geralt to arrive when he'll be taking up three days before telling him what has happened. What if you were already being punished because of their false accusations about you? Geralt's child of surprise has heard everything. Even from the time that the troopers has been kicking up a fuss over the woman named Savia that looked entirely like you.

She'd even saw the fight between Kolby; seeing him run away so suddenly broke her heart as much as yours did. Will he ever come back? the princess thought at the back of her mind from overrating. Will you ever come back to their lives again or will Geralt be too late to save you from their dirty hands?

The lion cub of Cintra has pulled away from treating Jaskier's wounds, straightening her back when she began to let the negative thoughts go to her head.

"How about Kolby? I---I've seen him run away!"  

Jaskier grabbed the cloth out of her hands, trying to sanitize his wounds instead. He'd tightly blinked his eyes, the left side utterly benumbed from their sucker-punches and he knew a black eye would come forth soon whether he likes it or not. The bard wasn't even on an adventure with the witcher, yet why has there been an incident where he'd been belaboured till he was bleeding with a hobble.

"He'll come back, dearest Cirilla. We can only hope for the best and also for Geralt to do his witchering---the heightened senses, I mean. Do you think his hearing can reach from here?"

They've been surrounded by silence after that. It was already morning by the time that Cirilla has successfully helped the bard to his feet, earning minutes of pure inveighs against what they've done and why Geralt decided to leave earlier than they have arrived. Their house was left as it is and it seemed like the only job that they needed to do was hold you ransom for what they wanted from the witcher because they knew what was happening beyond the four corners of their house.

The Kaedwednians have acted like they knew you were important to their family; beneficial to be taken for hostage and a crucial person for Geralt that would make him cave in to their desires.

Hence, they probably were right when Jaskier and Cirilla has heard the fast, pitter-patters of a horse from a distance; riding towards the house in a canter. Geralt's family looked at each other with knowing faces before Cirilla's face fell from thinking about the pessimist side of her head.

"I--I hear galloping!" she exclaimed before Jaskier noted the pale look of her lips like she has been thrown a bucket of ice on her head, "---What if its them again?" her lips began to tremble this time with a high pitch tone that says she was nervous and scared because she wasn't ready yet.

"What if they're back to capture me this time?"

They have been living in a world that scares her and when the right time comes, Geralt promised to take her where she'll be trained better to become like him for when danger and chaos tries to make them stay, the princess will know how to defend herself from the risks and threats. But, the witcher would still protect her no matter what happens because it is his duty and also because she has already been an adopted daughter to him. A daughter that he cherishes despite acting cold and dispassionate about the idea.

You knew she was important to him, a daughter that he somehow cared for from the moment they met. Geralt has told you this in the middle of the night, trying to tell you stories as he slept, managing to ask him about Cirilla and how she was involved in his life. The witcher never did plan it along but their destiny has made it happen for them to meet. She was the girl in the woods that people have been telling him about and the law of surprise that he has given voice that had you in awe because their world consists of beliefs and preternatural principles that never existed on earth.

Jaskier felt like his whole body grow numb and forgotten what the pain that the cavaliers has inflicted upon him when he suddenly stood up, apprehensively grabbing onto Cirilla's shoulders and looking around to find her somewhere to hide.

The heavy set of footfall started to tread near, out of the threshold of their front entry. With a swollen face and bloody clothes, he grabbed onto her wrist and tried to pull her out of the kitchen and onto the back door of their house with a need to keep another person safe and away from danger. They've already taken you and Cirilla was out of bounds.

"No. No. That can't happen. They have no idea who you are. Run in the woods. Away from here, alright? Don't worry, I'll get to find you---Geralt will find you again, I promise you---has he taught you little tricks here and there? If not---"

The loud crash of a door opening has got Jaskier in full-protective mode; pulling along Cirilla to stand behind him with a hand outstretched open in front of him to tell this person to stop from their attacks. Until they've seen a person whom they were praying to the gods appear before them utterly shambolic to their shock.

"Geralt?! Oh dear, gods! What happened?!" Jaskier yelled out loud, their breaths hitching from the picture that stood before them.

Geralt's ruined armor was off; keeping the black under tunic on that has been torn with holes. The openings held blood under the apertures of his ravaged shirt. His face seeming to be the only one left untouched from the burns and wounds. His hair was dirty from soot and darkened, moist like sand but his breeches has been surprisingly free from the scratches that his upper clothing has received from.

Cirilla couldn't help but feel the warm, hazy moisture of her eyes fill her vision from seeing him stand in the middle of their hatch, the fish bones that stuck inside her chest finally breaking free from Geralt's appearance because hope has arrived for them.

"Geralt! You're here!"

The latter couldn't believe his eyes. They were safe. His family was safe from the show that the Kaedwenians tried to scurry them off with.

Relief washed through Geralt, his Aureate peepers widened from being stunned at seeing them both.

"Jaskier. Cirilla. You're both okay." he stated in a monotone manner, his gaze examining their forms when he'd realized Jaskier has been beaten to pulp.

The hold on his sword that rested on his palms tightened from seeing red. If there was blood involved, then something bad has happened especially when he'd lately realized that his family was missing one special person that came with the ménage he had.

You. There was no midget. Were you just hiding in a corner? Trying to be playful like the person you are? Where you hiding upstairs and planning to surprise him?

Jaskier paid heed to his sudden silence, the peeved look within his eyes that held a flicker of catastrophe because he couldn't see his midget with them.

He didn't know nor realize that seeing you gone like you never existed felt like an Nightwraith has tried to rip his heart open and eat it to their satiation.

Cirilla sprinted to where Geralt stood, immediately wrapping her arms around her step-father that she also holds dearly till the moment; she'd hug him, the embrace simply an allegation of fear, telling him that it was the right thing to come back earlier than they expected him to.

"I'm so glad you're here!"

The witcher wholeheartedly accepted the embrace, patting her head that was shoved to his chest despite of the wounds he has; just thoroughly relieved that she wasn't taken. His sword fell on the side with a loud thud as he'd look away from Jaskier, his eyes shifting from high and low, finding the Hirikka not in his place under the dining table as well.

"The midget? where is she?"

Howbeit, knowing the answer. He still wanted to hear what happened from the poor bard.

Jaskier subtly coughed, alerting that his tale was ready to be told. But, Cirilla has cut him off with her voice bawling out to Geralt, frowning against his chest as she loudly sniffed. The tears in her eyes dripping down as she couldn't help but keep the emotions balled up inside her chest anymore. Shock. Fear. Worry. Care. All together, it was brought and made with tears.

"Th-they've...they've taken her away from us! She saved my life for the second time, Geralt! You owe her everything!"

Geralt didn't answer at that and just patted her braided hair to soothe her worries---her braided hair that you have fixed before being taken. He was already too maddened on the inside to even hear that Jaskier began to start his story.

"So, do you want a simplified version or the dramatic one? I hear you choose the second option, so here it is!"

Cirilla sobbed against his chest when Jaskier started. His thoughts was filled with you. He was angry, irritated and dumbfounded that you've been offering your life in exchange for Cirilla to be safe. You always did. Hence, he didn't know if he was thankful of your selflessness or utterly vexed from how kind you were at heart.

"Fuck." he whispered to himself, Jaskier's voice going on and on in the background as if it was their music, his next words sounding exasperated as he simply sighed out of his nose and closed his eyes in frustration.

"---Midget..."

Jaskier was unaware that Geralt wasn't listening to his nonsense blabbers until he got straight to the point. He'd even told him how he rearranged and hid the bowls where you couldn't find it which made the witcher give him a simple raise of his brow.

Cirilla cut the hug when she was feeling dandy enough. Geralt gave her one final reassuring and affectionate pat on the head before grabbing on his fallen sword with a scowl on his face as he listened to Jaskier run his mouth.

"---So, I've been punched in the gut from different kind of Cavaliers. The Kingdom of Kaedwen can suck my arse---I've learned that from the rat by the way---and I've bled to the end of my second life. Hence now, this is my third---Hallelujah!---Kolby listens and follows every command but he's gone now and we don't know where he is---even tried to save me and her but the vampire is too strong---not that it isn't surprising,"

The simple action of grabbing onto his sword inflicted pain onto the fairly large wound on his lower rib which made him hiss. It was from the burning blood of the Bloedzuiger that he somehow managed to not shield himself with; forgetting to use Quen in the midst of battling.

"Tybalt." he understood completely, knowing exactly who tried and planned to get you from him for their use. They still haven't found the witch and needed to find her as soon as possible. Geralt wandered over the kitchen, closing the door behind him as he lowly grumbled to no one in particular.

"---They still want me to lift the curse. They want me to kill their monster,"

Their ears perk from the admission; watching the witcher peel his damaged under tunic off with an aggravated sigh as he stood in front of the dining table. He'd taken a lot more injuries than he most likely does; even had his energy spike to its lowest due to wanting to get the job done in less than half an hour. Hence, this resulted in accepting more wounds and detriments by rushing the whole task.

Geralt has already taken potions for him to heal on the way. Some of the smallest wounds has been healed. Though, the deepest wounds did not yet. It would certainly earn him a scar or two from it but he never cared.

"You're bleeding, Geralt. Where are you going?" Jaskier sauntered to his side with a wince from seeing more blood than what he normally sees, Cirilla also pulled a face and watched the witcher heavily sigh from examining his opened wounds. He deeply had a grimace on his face as he does when he tried to explain.

"It's from the Bloedzuiger's blood," he gruffly muttered, only answering the troubadour's first question.

His talkative friend circled around him to be met with the nastiest laceration that he has seen. Jaskier's nose scrunched in repugnance from what stood before him for the first time in years, "You've never taken enough damage like this before," he claimed as a matter of fact; in deep conjecture as to why he seemed to be in adrift prior to his hunt.

Geralt's attention was solely on the gash that could make him lowly groan in the back of his throat; rough and sounding uncomfortable from the pain it was giving.

"Jaskier, stay with Cirilla. Keep hidden and never go out until I come back with the midget," he gruffly started when the princess has rushed upstairs to find gauze to help with his lesions.

The Weccan leaned over the table, his palms on either side; flat on their wooden dining table with his ruffled hair framing his features and his head bowed down as he deeply pondered, his worries all about you because they've kept you ensnared. They knew he would come for you. They knew they will be expecting a witcher to welcome and they were right.

"---we can't leave the midget within their reach. They'll know her existence---Ingrith of Helmfirth already knows her existence,"

The bard's eyebrows were knitted tightly together in confusion for what he has heard, stammering from all the questions inside his head that kept on bothering him. He leaned on the table beside Geralt, bright blue eyes inquisitive and confused, "What? how---how did you even know she was gone? I thought you didn't know the sorceress?"

"The Djinn placed the midget and I in a spell where I can feel what she feels and I knew she was in danger,"

Jaskier gave a hesitant nod, deliberating over what he's trying to figure out from all the phenomenon that he has encountered, "Like some curse?"

Geralt shot his head up to nonchalantly give him a glimpse of his convinced golden peepers, pursing his lips, looking away to stand straight and lean away from the table.

"If you put it that way, we can call it a curse then."

The white wolf left Jaskier in the kitchen and drifted towards the stairs, making him trail behind; walking with a phrase of protests over the half naked witcher taking his flight.

"We need to treat those wounds before you step foot in the castle, Geralt."

There was no need to beat behind the bushes in Geralt's protective instincts. Specifically when you were in a risk to be hurt by their filthy hands. He took the staircases with his heavy footfall, roughly reassuring the bard from his worries.

"Already did. I'll be fine, bard."

Once they've reached the second floors, all wounded and bloody; both Geralt and Jaskier, they stood in the middle of the wooden hallways. Eye to eye as they were having a serious talk. Their voices echoing all over the place, "She saved Cirilla's life for the second time around," Geralt huffed and gave one seething sigh when the pain on his lower rib was burning. He certainly needed them to gauze his wounds before leaving.

"---even helped you forget about that knight you were fond with. I need to save her,"

Jaskier's mouth fell open from his bluntness, believing that you have been used as a person to forget his previous ones. He'd wiggled those slim shoulders of his, hands on his hips and keeping his head held high. A fake cough left his lips, thinking of ways to get back from being attacked figuratively by Geralt for a lot of times already.

"I won't let another slip away again, Jaskier."

Jaskier raised a knowing brow, sharing a bloody compact with the witcher as they stood against each other dripping with their own wounds and blood; an understanding that they both could only comprehend and would silently agree to, "I understood Durriken now," he gave a firm nod, convincing himself for his sentences.

Geralt squinted his eyes back at the bard, judging him from the back of his head and reading between his lines.

Jaskier talked to Durriken when they've left the other day. He tried to know what they've talked about because the bard was full aware of how the switch has turned inside Geralt's peculiar, introverted mind from that moment in the marketplace.

Durriken knew before everything could even happen---perks of being a fortune teller, believing that you had a reason why you've arrived.

Jaskier raised a finger to his front, a sassy brow raised as he firmly claimed, "She's the witcher's destiny. The reason she's here is because..." pause. "---of you, Geralt."

Julian just couldn't keep still and watch everything unfold. He knew Geralt and what ticks him, understood the simplest gestures that had a whole lot of meaning behind it. Jaskier can't help but pry around when it involved the white wolf.

This was why he was the bard who stood by his side because he tried to understand him for who and what he was. A person who truly cared, a friend who truly accepted him; though, most of the times, he was there to annoy the shite out of him.

"And that's why she needs to be saved. I can't let her die, Bard." Geralt honestly spoke, the truth being said rather than staying silent like how he would usually do.

The bard has given him a satisfied smile, his beam widening once he jested, "Oooooooh! I've waited for this moment to come so I can finally say it after decades---In other words," he playfully bantered, finding the right words to get back for receiving his bluntness, "---you love her, Witcher. Don't you?"

Cirilla held the ripped, long, white clothing to her chest. The door to her room slightly opened as she tried to listen onto what they were arguing about, they weren't. The word 'love' peaking her attention when Jaskier lightly tried to poke on Geralt's honesty, irking him to the bones and hoping to get something out of his sudden uprightness.

Lo and behold, as soon as the witcher opened his pretty mouth, they were left disappointed from a hum that he'd habitually does everyday when he wanted to stay silent.

"Hmm."

Retrieving no answer from such an important, scandalous question that would be a fact once it was positively answer; a simple 'yes' would've been evidence that the white haired witcher was actually capable to experience a certain feeling that would make him more human than he can ever be.

All you could see was darkness. No visions nor imagery of where you were going as an empty sack has been forcefully placed around your head. Tybalt has kept you immobilized within his arms that surrounded you. The sack was needed so there was no risk of escaping which can happen if you knew your ways just like their previous capture who happened to be a thief that knew the directions of the kingdom.

The sack was tightened around your neck, making you choke once they roughly shoved your shoulders to move as you were curtly placed down by the vampire. Pavement. Rock pavement. You silently thought as you felt rough hands grip your arms so tight. On either side, they were controlling you and assuming who they were; you knew it was cavaliers.

The gates seem to open as you've heard the loud screeching of a sound. A couple of harsh tugs; here and there. Some offending remarks you've received when you tried to thrash against their holds. They were calling you 'the witcher's whore' or his tramp that made you frown behind the empty sack of potatoes used for your head.

Footfalls can be heard all around you. They were everywhere and all heavy, marching as if they have a purpose as to why they were there. There was no idea as to where they tried to confine you; in a large cage? a building where all their prisoners are there in jail? or were you in a castle? their palace?

The men on either side of you dragged you strengthfully towards where they wanted; making you bark back despite of being temporarily blind for their purpose.

"I know how to walk, okay?! Stop dragging me around like I'm your rag doll!"

Tybalt loudly scoffed from behind, walking through the stoned hallway that directed straight towards the hoosegow where an Elven has been kept for a month, "Prisoners shan't be complaining, ye' know?"

A loud thump and squeaking of a door made you hastily look around in panic; thinking that you might be thrown in a huge fireplace so your body can be burnt to dust because they knew your existence here didn't actually existed and if you do get to be cremated, nobody would even care.

Will Geralt try and save you for the third time?

From the day that you have been taken and cared for in their home, it was already an act of protection. He didn't think twice to adopt and let you have a part of their house; saving you from an Alghoul who was hunting you down and planning to make you its meal. But, Geralt killed it for you.

The white wolf has even killed men for you to feel sympathy for. When Geralt of Rivia protects one person, he would surely not think twice but to put an end towards their life; as long as they were evil or hurting another.

He was one of a kind and the affection you have for him needed label. You were understanding everything now; the care and worry you feel whenever he goes for his hunt, how the sting feels inside your heart whenever he tends to become a lot more quieter rather than usual, thinking that he was avoiding you because he'd realize how much of a burden you are in his life.

Also considering the feeling of happiness whenever he sweetly touches you, feeling his skin on yours like it was destined for sensations to occur. Sensations that only he can transpire out the the earth's perimeters.

You comprehended it very patently. It was love that you had for him. You hoped it was because lust or infatuation never has given the effects like what you've been interpreting from the witcher.

No secrets can't be revealed as long as it was true especially with undisclosed matters. Hence, you planned to tell Geralt as soon as you get to see him again.

That is, if your future around the Kaedwenians won't involve you and death rolled together as one.

Their tight grip has made your arms sore. You were flailing your arms away from their grasp and the violent reaction that they have gotten from resulted in you being pushed to the ground, creating your healing gash with another deep wound that made you yelp. They've quickly yanked the sack off your head; all unkempt from being cramped, hurriedly keeping you inside the slammer as they marched away to lock up the thick, metal railings like you've committed such a harsh crime.

You've held onto your scrapped knee, seeing blood on the pads of your finger and it made you aggressively scream from where you've laid hunched over the cold stones beneath you; igniting the tiny, surprised jump from the knights who were guarding your cell.

The tight coil on the top of your stomach was starting to move; meaning to say, another panic-attack was starting to give rise because of how uncomfortable and eerie does it felt to be in jail from the past era. It was more ominous and uncanny rather than what jail looked like in the modern period.

You were heaving breaths, turning around and staying flat on your bottom to see the armored men squinting their eyes back like you were some weird creature, the notion of being Geralt's lover sickening their bones as if they were much of a better man than he is. They weren't. Geralt was better than them---soul-wise. Their gauging eyes made you giggle aloud in a sarcastic tone.

"I can't believe you are all actually humans---"

The lock of the door jiggled, people behind the entrance loudly pushing it open; in which Tybalt and a lady with glowing purple eyes emerged from the hatch.

"My lady," Tybalt started with a sultry tone dripping on his tongue, subtly nodding his head off to where you were hunched over.

This woman in front of you didn't look entirely human after all, you mentally thought. Glowing purple eyes; with her shoulders rolled back with a head held up high, such stance that made her look powerful. It was enough to make you cower.

She was a beauty even. Utterly bewitching from a woman's perspective. A high bridged nose, glassy dark skinned complexion that came with a pouty lip. The grotesque woman was enchanting in the eyes of men if her physical aspects could make you dumbfounded.

"Incredible." the latter spoke in fascination, taking heedful steps close amongst the lines of metal hinges. The luminescence of a torch has caught her purple eyes, glowing against the light as if magic was flowing through her veins; utterly strange because no normal human had eyes like hers, nor have you seen one in Geralt's dimension up until today.

"Another...you," she continued, her eyes cast upon you when she took heed of your familiar face.

"---It's true. There has always been another dimension,"

You've looked around, avoiding her discretionary gaze, a gaze that held corruption or malign beneath the colorful hue of her beautiful colored irises. They were winsome; however, her allurement came with a thorn that would surely make you bleed when touched.

"I'm..I'm not---"

Straightforwardly, she pointed out with a silent and warning tut, "There is no use of lying, little one. You are talking to a sorceress,"

As that has been mentioned, you couldn't help but snap your head and turn to look at her. Your eyebrows knitted together with eyes scrutinizing her features. Was she the sorceress that Geralt has been in love with? you questioned mutely to your alter ego. Ingrith was hasty enough to know that judging look in your eyes because of how your witcher has been involved with sorceresses after sorceresses or mutant and mystical beings.

He was known for it and based on how you were judging her, your mind was also well aware of how infamous he had been with women.

Geralt of Rivia was given a lot to choose. Yet, he has chosen a powerless, vulnerable, less of a beaut than what he would've picked and Ingrith wanted to laugh for his choices---what he planned to be destined with a dangerous life ahead.

"You're the Yennefer one?"

"How do you know her, thief?"

An obvious shake of your head was given; shaking the worry away from seeing Geralt's long lost love working in a castle and also for the queen and king. That wasn't just the reason why you didn't want to see Yennefer anymore, another justification as to why you didn't want to was because of the bigger chances that you would be going home in one way or another when the white wolf wanted to because there was no proof or evidence that he wouldn't send you home. Sure, he has said several times already that you were his home---however, what if his feelings changes especially that his relationship with the sorceress has been ruined from a certain fight you didn't know about?

Did Geralt feel the same way about you? Was it love or merely just infatuation?

"Nevermind. You're not her." pause. "---also, why are you calling me a thief, lady?!"

Your eyebrows knotted closer than ever from her assumptions. It wasn't just Tybalt or his goons calling you a thief, even the sorceress too. Ingrith pulled away from the bars, dusting her gloved hands from the dust that was transferred to her leather mittens like the people sitting behind closed bars were infectious. She'd given Tybalt a look, her face indistinct of what she wanted to feel for seeing the real you.

She ignored your yapping as she asked the vampire beside her, "Are you sure she's destined with the witcher as a lover?"

Tybalt gave her a small nod, arms crossed in front of his chest as he watched you give him a glare back, "Yes, my lady. Last time I stabbed the little woman, the witcher was all feral, ye' know? It was quite fun to watch, nevertheless. This whore seems to be very important for him,"

"He'll be coming then."

Your knotted eyebrows suddenly went up your hairline at that. She sounded too enthusiastic for Geralt to come by; her voice masking a mixture of anticipation for seeing him and also hoping for something else when he arrives. It was a tone that only women could understand in their own language and you couldn't help but go livid.

She wanted something from your witcher and it doesn't look nor does it feel right because you could sense your eye twitch.

"Hey, sorceress of doom. I'm not a child. My womanhood is fully developed if you wanna know because you sound like you're insulting my height---thank you very much because that wasn't a first---Also, you sound like you want to fuck my witcher!---My witcher!" you bluntly stated, the tip of your tongue feeling vile and bitter from the truthfulness of your words. Jealousy being the root of it all and probably intimidation over this sorceress.

She wasn't that Yennefer yet. What if it was her already?

"---Find your own witcher! He's coming to save me, not give you a rumpy pumpy while you are all keeping me in prison!"

Ingrith could feel her temples have gotten flicked from that. Your attitude was making her blood boil---a know-it-all in a world you hardly knew about. She was beginning to come to a realization that your mouth needed barricade, it needed to know where you stood because apparently, she was having the upper hand and you were munching on her toe figuratively.

"Are you sure about that?" Ingrith spoke as a matter of fact; her lips curling into a sinister grin and this is what gets her going, "---you sound like you don't know your witcher too well, child."

"---You haven't heard the truest tales of him then. Your witcher loves to bed women in all brothels---Witchers leave all the time because that's what they do. They travel anywhere to hunt monsters,"

Your mouth was ready to throw curses after curses. A few steps close toward the bars made her grin wider to see your tough facade falter in the tiniest, seeing it from behind those confused eyes of yours. A mixture of fighting for what you had with a self destructing insecurity that makes you overthink of the future despite not talking it through with your mutant of a lover.

Ingrith didn't back down to that fight you have been mentally trying to assault as she was wiser to knowing your existence had a count down with them around.

She only needed to know where the portal was; options would be a sorceress back in your world which transported you to the continent. Second is a physical egress that has been never found nor discovered by anyone yet. From your kingdom to theirs. It wouldn't just be a theory because when the conjunction of spheres started, all hell broke lose in the continent. So, the idea wasn't completely a hypothesis that didn't hold zero percent chances of it.

All Ingrith needed was evidence and she will surely get the answers out of you even if she'll be using corporal punishments---even to the point of drawing blood until you say words she wanted to hear.

The sorceress began to wind you up a lot more, finding amusement from the reactions and tiny twitches of your face which tells how upset you are as she ran her mouth with endless gibes, "---your beloved Witcher can't be satisfied with one woman in all his life especially with a human like you because one ages slower over the other."

She crouched before you behind bars, gritting her teeth together like a feral hound trying to mark up his or her prey.

"You don't have magic. You aren't mutated and you die like normal men," Ingrith seethed, her eyes piercing and full of hatred towards you.

---Or maybe from mankind itself. You tried to understand where she was coming from or what she was taking a stand to. The sorceress in front of you thinks of herself as if she is higher than most human alive and probably a power-hungry feline where she would take revenge on whoever has hurt her.

It was that, or she just thinks she's above all because of the power and magic that she has been lucky to have.

"They have no capacity for emotion because of the combination of their hard training, genetic modifications, and seclusion from society. I suppose love is important and heartfelt in your world, correct?" the sorceress articulated with a scorn, "---Not to Witchers, my dear. I doubt he would love you as you expect him to. You'll only be the woman who tried to substitute over Yennefer of Vengerberg's position,"

You've given her a petulant expression and a moue that could make plants wither from the hate of seeing the sorceress. She couldn't help but send a ridicule as Ingrith also feels the same, "You are not special. The Witcher needs a person who does not give him more weight on his back---he needs a strong, independent woman who can save herself from being locked inside a cage and not screaming help for him,"

Ingrith of Helmfirth brought to a stand, her eyes throwing daggers over your kneeling form. You were easy to intimidate and certainly effortless to scare away just by the height differences. She simply chuckled when all you've ever done was give her a purse of your lips and a death stare that has probably killed her inside your head for a lot of times already; yet, you were helpless, inundated and incapable of doing such from a mortal.

She knew it; sensed that you held no magic.

"I didn't need you attacking me this way," you quipped with a shake of your head, sighing from the tiring conversation that was taking a toll on you no matter how unaffected you try to appear. But, you were futile to their world and even to a government that was quite unfamiliar to you, authorities that didn't care about the welfare and lives of people.

Sitting back on your derriere with your legs in a criss-cross position, you've held your guard down and went on with the flow. Suddenly, on the midst of prompting down in a comfortable position, you've heard the metal door swinging open and saw the sorceress holding up a hand to you like she had some repulsor; thinking she was Iron Man from how she pointed her palm at your face.

Your face was warped in irritation and ambiguity. You knew what she was doing; her magic is what it is. With a slap of her hand away from your face, barks of remarks has been said out in the open, "What? you need a high five after insulting me like that? even had to pry over what relationship I have with Geralt?---or are you Iron Man dressed as a lady? am I in the MCU?"

The vicious sorceress had a nonplussed look on her face, analyzing what was wrong with the spell she tried to cast upon you, but it seems like her runes has been blocked by someone or something she couldn't understand. Ingrith knelt before you and quickly grabbed onto your throat, her fingers roughly wresting along the line of your jaw as she made you look into her eyes.

None. You had no magic; really knew no witchcraft.

"You should be fainting right now," she lowly mumbled to herself, her gaze intently examining your face while you spat out dry cough from being choked alive, gagging in the process of being pounced on.

"Excuse---E-Excuse me, I'm not. You---You suck! You're not a real sorceress then!"

Until such time, she'd realize the light, chain of metal attached to your neck. Ingrith has straightaway pulled the collar of your sweater down until it has been slightly ripped off. You yelped and resisted to comply from her wishes. However, she'd slapped you hard enough on the same spot as Tybalt did which has made you cease from shrieking as the ache in your jaw started to double up more than ever.

They were literally treating you like a doll that they could hurt or ignite pain and you want nothing more than to see Geralt and lull you to sleep, being taken care of by your own witcher as he tells stories about his adventures with Jaskier or Cirilla, appreciating the difference of being in his family's arms and the people whom they've warned you about.

They have been right all along.

Ingrith pulled the collar down until she'd seen such Cicatrix engraved in between the valley of your chest; the medallion of the Witcher and his school, you were destined to be with him and to create a progeny---his progeny in this world you were in. The lesion now looked like a birthmark, turning darker against your skin and it was enough to presume that the process has finally began.

Along came with an ornament; specifically, the fae necklace that had enchantments to rebound ill-fate has turned from coral green to black like her incantations have been reversed.

"Impossible!" she exclaimed in the middle of the slammer, the Elven who was in the same stockade you were in has given her a look from her loud guffaws, "---you're under a curse---the Warp of the souls. Who'd curse you?"

The sorceress urgently demanded, her fingers tugging your arm as she pulled you closer to her face; seeing the beauty you once saw turn monstrous over the hate that was controlling her to live.

You shook your head, eyes all wide from the frustration, anger and hopelessness being confined inside a dungeon, "I don't know! I haven't met any mages except for you, bitch!"

Ingrith pushed you off to the side, making you stumble on your back flat that has made you groan.

"You're being protected," she stood up on her feet and dusted off her hands straight to your face; all feral with barred teeth, you've given her the stink eye and a nasty scowl, wanting to spit of her foot for her malign, "---Did the witcher find you a Djinn and planned to throw you off back to where you came from?"

"I'm not fucking answering you!" you loudly yelled, voice echoing inside the stoned slammer.

"It is a yes, then."

The sorceress turned away at that, paving her way to the entrance of your spectral, cold cage. She stepped out of the hatch with a lour and most likely with such ire, the curse being a stronger fuel to the fire as she scanned you from head to foot, her gaze lingering longer on your stomach.

Her glowing purple eyes that was quite difficult to decipher when she'd step out of the cage has made you hold a hand on your belly. Why was she staring at you in a way as if she was planning something? did she wanted to eat your intestines?

"---It's that...kind of wish, Tybalt."

Her right hand man has been silent all through out your conversation with the sorceress. The vampire kept his mouth shut, listening to what information they could earn from Ingrith's interrogation. He immediately understood what she meant about 'that kind of wish,' and it was confusing him because of the Witcher's inability to conceive such children.

Tybalt was thinking that your existence never had any reason as to why you've stumbled across the continent. Unless, you've been brought by destiny to produce and make miracles for Geralt's life?

The sorceress leaned closer, her mouth near to his ear as she quietly spoke; not risking for you to hear, "Starve her. Leave her alone with the Elf until The Witcher arrives---or better yet, cudgel her until she speaks answers." she huffed a breath, full of detest over what powerful being was protecting you from her---your curse making her loathe you even more as you were fertile enough to give Geralt an offspring. He shouldn't have been given that luck because he was destined to be completely barren. But, here you were being a complete wonder as to why the curse was a success.

Ingrith hated the concept of an offspring especially that she was also an infertile woman and she couldn't risk the likelihood of a child and its genesis of being a successful heir of a djinn's given malediction; a byproduct of the spirit's potentials in one human to be protected by a witcher.

It could be a threat to her and you were certainly a hazard that she needed to control.

The sorceress speedily left the cell with Tybalt following suit. Her palms itching to go berserk over being futile to your existence, "---She must not produce an heir with the witcher," she sauntered through the path with raging blood. The higher vampire swiftly tugging onto her wrist with his agility.

"But, witchers are infertile, my lady. I doubt they may produce a child,"

"She's made a wish. She has never been infertile from the start nor is she mutated. This thief does not possess such magic but she can give the witcher a child as long as she's protected by the Djinn. The Djinn would give their heir his own magic to create madness in this world which is why she's under a curse. Their child will hold power that no one can ever understand with the help of it,"

"---To make sure of it, we shan't walk around bushes. Spells or maybe poison shall do the trick. We don't need another damned prodigy in this world!"

Tybalt has given her a look, puffing out his frustrations for how she was a foot farther away from the future. The sorceress and her intentions was thoroughly getting out of hand from the moment the prince has been cursed for years. They were present when the curse for the prince has started; more so, Ingrith lasted longer than him in the castle from the moment he was seized by her when she was younger and he respected her for it, even thankful for abducting her when he was a vagrant.

"Ingrith, this is beyond the plan," he spoke through gritted teeth; tightly clutching onto her arm. She raise a brow back at him with a sarcastic reply.

"Do you want the witcher to have a child who may possess black magic then?" Tybalt shut his mouth at that, listening to her reasons and opinion about the whole tragedy that was about to happen in the future, "---you don't even know who that child with Ashen hair is. She can't be his child---he's protecting her from someone---even the thief because she is having his child,"

Ingrith forcefully yanked his hold away from her arm, giving him a sharp look of warning as she continued her gaslighting, "I remembered saving you when you were down and dirty, covered in grime in the caves because you have been abandoned as a higher vampire from your guild,"

The higher vampire's features turned adamantine; features withdrawn and never believing what words he was receiving as it felt like she was making him feel the indeptedness for taking him in.

Ingrith couldn't help but give him a mordant smile of her lips, tilting her head back at him as they stood in front of each other; eye to eye as they both had the same height. She'd seen and read the look within his eyes, conceding to her request of assenting over what side she was trying to fight as her own opinions is what matters and has always been right.

"You're strong, Tybalt. Stronger than the witcher. His sword is no match for you. You're smarter, agile and inevitable. Though, you have a weakness and I suggest you fight that vulnerability of yours---that foolish sympathy for humanity because pity for others isn't what this world needs,"

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means you couldn’t be tagged, Bb. Please check your settings) @alyxkbrl​ @himarisolace​ @barkingbullfrog​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @hellodevilslittlesister​ @turkish276​ @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us​ @nympeth​ @amirahiddleston​ @gabethelobster​ @dreaming-about-starfleet @uncoolcloudyhead​ @melaninstylezz​ @psychosupernaturalhero​ @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer @marvelousell​ @kingniazx​ @angelias134​ @tapismyforte​ @chook007​ @covid-donotenter​ @deadlydemon​ @cheesecakeisapie​ @angelofthor​ @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum @stuckupstucky​, @shesthelastjedi​, @a–1–1–3, @gutfucks​, @raynosaurus-rex​​, @britty443​,  @suhke3​, @shadowclawstudio88​

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza​, @crazybutconfidentaf​​ 

General taglist for Henry Cavill: @agniavateira​​, @iloveyouyen​​, @rahdaleigh​​, @silverkitten547​ @henrythickcavill​ @kaatelyyynn​

[twilightofthe]

Ohhhhh Nonny do I have an IDEA for this one, thank you so much. I’m going off of your Separatists idea, thanks!

(You also sent me that second Obikin prompt which I shall also answer boy howdy!)

(OTP prompts list found here)

Obianidala 4 - Enemies to lovers AU: Which one switches sides?

In this universe, Dooku tries to catch more flies with honey than vinegar at first. When Padmé Amidala starts stirring up a fuss in the Senate about things that could interfere with Sidious’s plans, Dooku sees an opportunity arise. That formidable personality Amidala uses to command attention to her cause, something like that could be useful to him, to have on his side. His Master will certainly disagree, but Dooku knows that his Master cannot be his Master forever. At some point, Sidious will have to be dealt with; why not have the girl who took down the last Chancellor as an ally?

Count Dooku arranges a meeting with Senator Amidala. He tells her the truth about Sheev Palpatine. He shows her the datapad painstakingly compiled with over a decade of evidence of the Chancellor’s high treason. The entire sordid affair that was invasion of Naboo and Palpatine’s role in it is displayed in full. The truth is undeniable.

Padmé has never been so furious in her life. If what is in these documents is true, everything up to and including her own election as Queen, what she prided herself on for achieving through her own success and talent and by the grace of a democratic society, all of it, was his doing. He chose her. He groomed her. Eight fucking years of her life as a civil servant unknowingly dancing on his strings like a puppet, enacting his will, causing her planet and the galaxy irreparable damage. Gods, he chose her because she was weak-minded enough to hand him the Chancellorship on a silver platter.

Dooku tells her of Palpatine’s plan, of the war he’s been cultivating— too late in the proceedings now for Padmé to do anything to stop it, gods, he’s thought of everything, and his ultimate goal of complete galactic domination. He believes Dooku is his servant, on his side, but, Dooku says, he does not plan to follow him forever. He wants to take Palpatine down, and he thinks Padmé could help him.

She learned all of her political prowess from the man who betrayed her. She knows he has left nothing to chance and that there is no way civil law and political action could knock him off his throne, no matter what evidence she gathers. She doesn’t trust Dooku, thinks he’s just as bad.

But Padmé was a tool in Palpatine’s rise. Anything bad that happens because of him is now blood on her hands by proxy.

Padmé Amidala commits herself to an alliance with Count Dooku.

A slightly less detailed version of the evidence shown to Queen Jamillia is enough to commit Naboo as well.

They can’t tell Palpatine yet, don’t want to alert him to their plan, so for a year they plan in private. Dooku is certain his Master is unaware. During that year, Padmé is told of what Darth Sidious really is, how the Sith factor into everything. She really didn’t sign up for this. This is Jedi-level danger that she has no experience in handling and gods, the Jedi don’t even know about any of this, and while Sidious is awful and Padmé Will bring that bastard down, she doesn’t like or trust Dooku in the slightest. Does not want his ideas of how the galaxy should be run.

But what should she do?

The answer comes when Dooku tells her that he is being ordered by his Master to make attempts on her life due to her rabble rousing in the Senate. He won’t actually kill her, he promises, and she knows he needs her enough that she believes him.

And then the sack of utter shit kills Cordé accompanied by a completely unrepentant message to her saying that it was necessary, and Padmé despises him too and maybe that’s why she’s so eager to lightly push him into the fire when Palpatine pulls her into a meeting with the Jedi about it. Maybe the Jedi can help her, do something, maybe—

The Jedi is the same one who was sent to protect her a decade ago, the one Dooku’s mentioned by name from time to time when he’s humored her questions on the Sith and Jedi, his former grand-apprentice Padmé swears he might still be fond of.

And that apprentice’s current apprentice, and damn, Little Ani has certainly grown up...

Obi Wan is truly brilliant, Padmé didn’t appreciate that enough the first time they met. She’d appreciate it more now, if not for the light suspicion she starts picking up from him near the moment the investigation into her attackers starts. She supposes it could just be dislike of how his apprentice is blatantly, adorably enamored with her— which, doesn’t quite bother Padmé like it should, and no, she is not going down that road right now, nope —and it’s easy enough to tell Obi Wan cares very deeply for Anakin, but she suspects it’s more, that he’s caught on that there’s something she might not be telling them.

Having his intense focus on her though? Not entirely bad. His eyes staring into hers and his smooth voice as he asks her questions? Padmé can accept that. She can accept Anakin tripping over himself, being genuine and kind and so eager to help her. Even if she doesn’t want to tell herself why.

After the second assassin attempt— bugs, Dooku, really? —she can tell Obi Wan definitely knows something is up and says so to Dooku, who had promised her he’d handle it.

Her and Anakin are sent off to Naboo and she knows that bothers Obi Wan— though again, is that more his suspicions about her or his worry over Anakin —and she dearly hopes Dooku doesn’t kill him

During the time on Naboo, she learns much more about Anakin Skywalker, his humor, his brightness, his complication, his anger. He’s mad at the government too, and he feels pressure and upset at who he answers to. He’s ridiculously gone on his own Master even if he doesn’t know it, and Padmé has seen Obi Wan with her own eyes so she understands that completely. He’s beautiful and she’s unable to look away from him, especially not when he’s looking right back at her, kisses her, and no, this is a problem, a Major problem because the crux of the entire issue is that he is far, far too close to Palpatine.

Padmé has spent enough time reflecting back on just how exactly Palpatine groomed her, she recognizes it now in Anakin. He, wine flushed over dinner, tells her of the supposed prophecy he doesn’t quite believe in, how he is very powerful in the Force. She remembers all Dooku told her of the Sith, and while she’s sure he didn’t tell her close to all of it, she knows far more than enough to know that Anakin Skywalker is in grave danger

She sees even more of it when Tatooine and his mother come into play

She needs to pull away from this.

The updates Dooku’s sending on Obi Wan, how he’s being lured, her concern, no, none of this is good.

These are good men, bright men, people who just want to help, and she can’t have them around her because they’ll mess up the purpose she’s gambled her entire life for

So when Anakin gets a distress call from Obi Wan on Geonosis, Padmé grits her jaw, shoves down her feelings, and leads Anakin straight into Dooku’s trap.

The look of utter heartbreak and betrayal on his face once they arrive and are captured, when the droids let Padmé go and she walks away from him, the pain in his voice as he says her name, only her name, nothing else, it breaks her.

But this is it, Obi Wan discovered the clones and the game is put in motion, and Padmé can no longer hide in the shadows, has to sit and watch as the two Jedi are put in the arena to die, looks at Dooku who’s watching them with a troubled expression— she knows he made Obi Wan an offer and was turned down, knows he too sees something in Obi Wan like he did in her, and Padmé has an idea because she sensed a likeness in Obi Wan that resides in herself, that he wouldn’t listen to a shady figure like Dooku, but if she could make him see her view, tell him what was controlling them— controlling Anakin...

Anakin, she thinks, would come too. For his Master, if anything, but she knew they had something and if she hadn’t managed to completely kill it by betraying him.

She tells Dooku she might be able to convince the Jedi one more time to see things their way, and he narrows his eyes suspiciously but keeps the other newly-Separatist leaders from going after her when she tosses two blasters into the arena for the unarmed Jedi.

Obi Wan’s glare at her is pure acid and no, that one will not be easy, she very well might fail, and something in her both winces at the disdain but also ignites at the challenge, he is a challenge and she is good at challenges, but she catches Anakin’s eyes and sees confusion, remnants of that awful pain that makes her faint with guilt, and hope, hope in those eyes as he handles the blaster with the ease of a lightsaber— Obi Wan’s even better at it, Padmé notes with amusement, remembering him expressing distaste for them —she feels her heart jump. Maybe she hasn’t destroyed what she and Anakin had, maybe she hasn’t lost him, maybe there’s a chance to explain—

The Jedi show up and they bring the clones, and now it’s a full out battle, the other leaders are fleeing, but Padmé can’t go, not yet, though she is shameless enough to duck behind Jango Fett and let him handle things when she sees Mace Windu headed in her direction with a look like death on his face, which, fair, very fair, Padmé does kind of deserve it, she did lie to everyone

She’s trying to follow Obi Wan and Anakin, catches a swoopbike and gets a small cluster of droids to follow her when she sees them headed on carrier ships.

This time, when one ship is struck, Obi Wan and Anakin are in different transports, so it is Obi Wan who is knocked out of it and tumbles into a sand dune, and Anakin on his way to get Dooku without even noticing his Master fell.

Padmé is ready to use her droid squad to capture him again so she can explain, but now clones are headed his way too, and her droids and the clones engage in a firefight across the sands, so it is Padmé alone who goes across the sand to offer him a hand up

Her getting flipped onto her back and a lightsaber at her chest reminds her that right, he’s a bit peeved with her at the moment

Wait, she tells him, raising her hands complacently. Listen to her, she says, Anakin is in danger.

His hair is unkempt and there’s dirt on his face and his stare seems more intense than ever. His voice is icy as he replies, and who’s fault is that?

She winces. He is mad that she hurt Anakin on top of everything else, which is also fair, she’s mad at herself too. Not from her, she explains, from the Sith Lord, the one Dooku told you about, did he tell you their name?

His eyes narrow, says Dooku said the Sith controls the Senate

Padmé tells him she’s met the Sith, Dooku is right, and that the Sith not only controls the Senate, they control Anakin, have had their eye on him for a very long time

And there’s that flash of protective fire in his eyes, she has his attention, though he’s trying to act like she doesn’t. She likes his attention, is glad he cares for Anakin as much as she does. He asks her, tone dangerous, what the hell she’s talking about.

Padmé takes a breath. You’re in danger of losing him to the Dark Side.

He reels back ever so slightly, snarls, you don’t know what you’re talking about.

Ask him what we did on Tatooine, she counters, watches as he takes that entirely the wrong way, the flush of cheeks, the second once-over of her, and she can’t help but be amused.

No, she stresses though, because they don’t have the time, not like that. Ask him what he did. He did something awful and if you don’t help him with that, it will get worse and he will deliver himself right into the Sith’s hands

She can see him paling. He knows she’s not lying. What did he do? Who is this Sith?

She shakes her head, tells him that he will not believe her, and that Anakin must tell him himself, and he must still be there for him. You are what’s keeping him where he is. Don’t drive him away. You can’t lose him.

His eyes narrow, he wants to argue with her and the lightsaber is still at her chest and he’s staring at her just as intensely and her heart is tight, but he’s getting a report on his commlink, and she hears something about Anakin about to engage Dooku, and he swears sharply and is pulling out the blaster she gave him and she doesn’t have time to move before he shoots her with it—

And he stunned her, thank the gods, she wakes up handcuffed in a transport ship with a few clones still milling around, she sees the entrance to the cave system Dooku was using off at a distance, she knows exactly where he would be and knows in her heart that Obi Wan and Anakin are fighting him.

The clones, bless them, are still a little new, and her cuffs are in the front and aren’t exactly chained to anything, and she’s in white just like them so it doesn’t take much to pull her wrap cowl up over her head, wait until one isn’t looking, and take off out of the ship at a run, somehow avoiding getting shot until she’s deep in the cave and has time to pull a pick out of her boot and undo the cuffs with her mouth. She can hear fighting in the distance and she may be unarmed, but she feels she was finally breaking through to Obi Wan and she needs something she can control, not Dooku, not Sidious, her, and she bursts out—

And there’s Dooku, fighting what looks like Master Yoda, and there are both of her men, collapsed on the floor, and obviously there is history between Dooku and his old master so neither of them even pay her any mind as she darts across the ground to where Obi Wan is laying slightly over Anakin— who, gods, is missing an entire arm, Dooku you bastard —and is surprisingly, still awake.

She meets Anakin’s bleary, pain-filled eyes, runs a hand soothingly over his forehead and croons softly at him, melts at how quickly he leans in to her touch despite what she’s done, what side she’s on. It’s okay, shhh, it’s okay, rest.

Did you mean it? he asks her, and her heart shatters. Any of it, did you mean-?

I didn’t want to lie, she tells him, completely honest. You weren’t part of the plan, you never were, hurting you wasn’t—

He makes a confused, sad little noise as she leans closer and oh, she can’t help it, she leans down and she kisses him and he presses into it eagerly, she can taste blood in his mouth, before slumping back to the floor, asleep.

What are you doing? She turns to see Obi Wan struggling to wake, glare back on his face, and oh, these two need to have a serious conversation, but that’s not the now. She wipes Anakin’s blood off her lip.

She tells him she is gaining an ally, and when he flares up, adds that she does truly care for him, and wants him safe, and the only way she can do that is if she takes out the Sith who is after him

Why side with Dooku then, Obi Wan challenges, and she smiles, tells him that Dooku too is a threat, and in this position she can try to bring down the both of them—

With help, she emphasizes. I don’t know the Force, there are things they don’t tell me and I am far from strong enough. If you were to help me...

Obi Wan snaps that he is loyal to the Republic, and Padmé counters, is he to Anakin? Padmé catches the break in his façade for but a second as he glances at his broken apprentice still curled up beside him, and she knows she isn’t wrong.

She dares to reach out, brush a loose strand of shiny auburn hair out of his face while he’s incapacitated, tells him, she is willing to help them. They should consider helping her. He stays still while she brushes his hair, watching her hand. Maybe she hasn’t misjudged him either.

Obi Wan is once more cut off by louder noises and the sound of clones approaching, and Padmé sees Dooku getting ready to flee, so she pats both men on the head once more, tells Obi Wan, commands him, keep him safe. We will meet again.

And she’s off, dodging Yoda who’s running back for the Jedi, catching a swoopbike of her own and tearing off after Dooku to escape the planet.

Naboo has a declaration of secession to make, and a war is starting, and for the first time, Padmé feels like she has options.

[willowbleedsonpaper]

Ghost Of You (Part 7)

Draco Malfoy x Muggle!Reader

W.C. : 2900

Summary:  The war with Voldemort was over. Draco Malfoy was forced to flee for his life ending up in Muggle London where he met you, the muggle whose house he broke in looking for a place to hide. You agreed to let him hide in your house if he promised to let you live your life normally. How will your relationship work as time passes and you both realize you’re no longer just partners in crime?

A/N: Hi my Skittles! So I changed my user name to go more along with my blog now, since the previous one was inspired in a TV show that has nothing to do with what I write and share. 

Let me know what you think! Every form of support is aprecciated. Shoot me an ask or something if you would like to be tagged. Enjoy and happy reading!

*Not my GIF. Credits to the creator*

You woke up to the soft warm feeling of something at the side of your face., trying to move you found yourself unable to get out of the strong grasp of someone around your waist. You were about to jump out of the bed when the sight of messy platinum hair let you relax once again in his hold. 

The only person you had ever been that close being Jack, you almost thought for a moment he was the one in your bed. But then it dawned on you this wasn’t your room and you weren’t home. The events from the previous night filling your head so fast and all at once your head started to spin, a dizziness overtaking you entirely. 

Carefully you grabbed Draco’s arm, unwrapping them from around you. He stirred in his sleep, making you freeze in place. He mumbled something and turned his back to you, hugging the pillow as his breathing continued to be as even as it was all night. You were tempted to return to bed, lay beside him and admire his peaceful sleeping self, but something told you he wouldn’t appreciate that and you thought it would be kind of weird. So with no more sleep in you to get back in bed, you got out of the room.

You walked barefoot to the living room seeing the couch where Jack rested last night empty, not a sign in sight that he had been there.

“You don’t have to worry about your friend.” a gasp left your lips, jumping in your place to face Hermione in the kitchen. The living room and the kitchen a big room divided by a wooden table that made the perfect separation. “I left him in the school you both work at with no memory of magic. He thinks he was out of town for the weekend.”

You nodded, muttering a thank you in her way. “I didn’t know you were awake.” you breathed a laugh, going to sit in the table right across where she stood next to the stove. “Why are you awake so early?” 

“I could ask you the same.” she said, pouring a cup of steaming tea “Tea?” she offered, serving another cup. She carried them to the table. sitting next to you with a soft smile. “I wasn’t the one running from Death Eaters only last night.”

“I guess I’m in good shape.” you joked, getting a chuckled from her “I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.” you said later, taking the warm cup in your hands.

She hummed, drinking away at her tea without a care in the world “I’m not used to sleeping much,” she shared, giving you a side glance “Never was a priority for me. Not when a was little, not at school and certainly not now.” she laughed, a bitter tone behind her words. 

“Why not?” you asked, leaning your body against the table.

She looked your way, turning her body towards you in interest “Well when I was little I always was up doing something else that seemed more important than sleeping. At school, Hogwarts actually,” she said with a shake of her head, the memories running wild in her mind “Ron, our best friend Harry and I were always getting in trouble. There wasn’t a year we weren’t looking for the big bad villain and how to defeat them, reading and learning everything I could to keep everyone safe was more important than sleeping.”

You were staring at her in awe, the most important thing you had to lose sleep over being your tests and homework when you were in college.

“Now it’s a habit,” she said with the roll of her eyes “It doesn’t matter if I can barely stand up with my eyes open. I only sleep for 4 hours, 5 if I’m lucky.” she said with a shrug of her shoulders “I guess running from death eaters and surviving a war does that to you.” she said lowly, but you heard her perfectly fine in the peaceful  silence of the flat.

“A war?” you asked shakily, a sense of pity raising in you but never letting it show. You could tell she didn’t like being pitied “How long have you been running from them?”

She looked at you with even more interest, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat you mirrored her movements “We did for months, maybe a little more than a year. I can’t really tell.” she explained “But Draco has been doing it for years now.” she was about to say more, but she sensed there were things Draco had to tell you himself “That’s what I told him he could come here if he needed help, I knew he would need at least one friend. Didn’t know he actually had one.” she said, cocking an eyebrow at you and you realized she was referring to you.

“Oh,” you said shyly “It’s not like that, I actually don’t know him at all.” you told her sadly.

“What do you mean?” she asked you with curiosity “You’re probably the only person I have ever seen that close to Draco Malfoy. You two are close, closer than you think.”

You bit your lip, your tea becoming very interesting all of the sudden “We only met last week, it’s impossible.” you mumbled.

She let out a sad chuckle, capturing your attention once more “Time is not important, neither is the time you spend with someone. It’s the genuine feeling and connection that matters.” she said, and you could tell she spoke from experience. The sadness that suddenly filled her eyes the only source of such deep sentiment.

You shook your head, stirring the now cold liquid inside the cup “It’s just a coincidence, we went through something dangerous that could have killed us last night. We relate on that and nothing else.”

She placed her cup down, the plate making a clicking sound that accompanied her heavy sigh “Long before Ron and I got together, there was somebody else.” she started, looking anywhere but at you “We barely spoke, I only knew him because we had friends in common and he was there at every turn I took.” she paused, looking up to the ceiling for a moment before she continued “We were never just the two of us, we never had a meaningful conversation or even hold hands, but he made me laugh even when I pretended he wasn’t that funny.” she said with a sad smile “He protected and defended me, made sure I was fine. We would smile at each other from the other side of the room like it meant nothing but it meant the world to me…”

“What happened?” you asked softly, looking for her eyes when she got lost inside her head.

She turned to me, a void look in her eyes “He died before I could say anything.” a single tear rolled down her cheek, quickly cleaning it with her sleeve.

You went for hand, holding her tightly with a soft squeeze “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude or make you relive that.” you said, your face contorted in one or regret. 

But she brushed it off “What I mean to say is,” she said “it doesn’t matter you met him last week or yesterday while escaping. It’s the connection. I’ve never seen Draco like this with anyone, so you can imagine my surprise at seeing you last night with him.”

“Not popular with the ladies?” you joked, even if you find it hard to believe.

She smiled, a grin in her face “Quite the opposite,” she chuckled, erupting in a fit of laughter at your pout “Just never one he would protect like he did with you yesterday.” she said, your head going back to Jack trying to drag you out of the building.

“He looked ready to kill him.” you said with a frown.

“And he would have done it. That’s what I mean,” she told you, squeezing your hand “He cares about you, and I can tell you care about him. You’re special.” she smiled, getting to her feet.

“How would I know?” you asked her, grabbing your empty cup and walking to the kitchen “He’s not very open about anything.” you said.

“You just know,” she whispered taking the cup from your hands and looking straight into your worried eyes “I know, hadn't he died, he would have been the love of my life given the chance.” she said, and your face fell at the sadness coming from her “Don’t waste the chance.” she told you.

You couldn’t help but wrapped your arms around her, a small gasp leaving her lips “Woah, you’re a hugger.” she mumbled before she relaxed in your arms and returned the hug with the same force. You heard her sob softly and your heart broke. How were they standing and moving on with their lives after everything they had been through?

“You know?” you mumbled lowly in her ear, still holding her close to you “You are right about connections,” you pulled her from you softly, holding her at arm length with a smile, and she give you a questioning look “I feel like you and I are going to be good friends.”

Her face broke into a smile “I’d like that” she whispered with a nod, her eyes moving over your shoulders, changing completely into a smug look “Morning, Malfoy.” she said.

You practically jumped around, meeting the image you never thought you would see in Draco. Not even at your house had you seen him how he looked fresh in the morning, and you couldn’t help the smile that crept into your face. His hair was messy and not completely covered in hair gel, his clothes were wrinkled for sleeping in them and he hadn’t tucked his shirt. And still he looked amazing.

But the more surprising thing, something you hadn’t thought was possible, the bags under his eyes seemed smaller. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Morning.” he said politely to Hermione, his eyes landing on you “What are you doing awake?” he asked you softly.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you said with a shrug, walking to his side “And I thought I would keep Hermione some company.” you added with a smile, pointing to the now clean cups in the counter.

He nodded, taking a seat in the table. You could tell he had something on his mind, trying and failing to put it aside. 

Hermione excused herself, saying something along the lines of Ron sleeping like a bear and having to wake him up. So you took the opportunity, sitting next to Draco “What is it?” you blurted out.

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow “What do you mean?” he said, holding his head in his hand. You scoffed, giving him a knowing look. He limited to sigh when you tilted your head to put emphasis on the subject “We can’t stay here forever.” he said, running a hand down his face.

“I know,” you said simply, and he opened one eye to look at you “We can go back to my house.” you offered.

He thought about it, running all the possible scenarios in his head “They’ll be waiting for us to go back.” he sighed, rubbing his temples. “Maybe if I take you to another safe house and…”

“No” you spat, cutting him mid sentence “If you think you’re taking me somewhere and leaving, those death eater or whatever they’re called will be the least of your concerns.” you said lowly, crossing your arms over your chest with a glare.

He took one hesitant glance at you, before breaking into a grin “Right, because you will hunt me down.”

“Don’t try me, Malfoy.” you said bitterly, getting a brooding look from him. 

“I told you not to call me that.” he growled, but you didn’t even blink an eye. Holding his glare with your lips in a thin line.

“And I told you you’re not leaving me behind,” you said back “there’s a reason they didn’t erase my memory, right?” you stated, and his face softened slightly. His shoulders relaxing at the memory of him holding you while you cried the previous night. The fear in your voice as you admitted you didn’t want him to go.

But for once in his life he didn’t want to be selfish. 

“This might be your only chance to get out of this,” he told you lowly, not meeting your eyes “They saw you with me already, had been to your house. It's like you said before,” he said “Once you know there is no going back.”

“I think I know what I’m getting myself into.” you said taking his hands in yours. His eyes snapping to your hands together, the shaky feeling inside of him telling him to not do this to you.

“No, you don’t.” he argued, a gulp forming in his throat “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

“So my options are having no memory of you or anything that happened last week or spend the rest of my life running from evil wizards?” you said, using your hands to weight your options, “I’m sorry but, have you met me?” you said with a smirk “I’m a literature teacher, running from evil wizards has been my dream since I knew what an evil wizard was.”

“Did I hear that right?” asked Hermione emerging from the hall with a sleepy Ron following close behind “A literature teacher?”

“Yeah” you smiled, missing the look in Draco’s face. He stared at you in complete adoration, not a week ago you wanted nothing but for him to leave your life and now you were willing to go with him even if that meant putting yourself in danger. You had begun to tell Hermione all about your work and your students, but he could only focus on the way your eyes shone as you spoke about the books you had read and your time teaching, how it felt more like a hobby than a job. 

How could he take that away from you?

“They care more about my life than the actual subject, but they do a good job just so they have free time to question me.” you said. making them both laugh.

“Sorry to interrupt” Ron apologized, turning to Draco “You’re running from evil wizards,” he repeated with a funny look “As more than one?”

Draco rolled his eyes “You insult my skill as a wizard, Weasley” he muttered “Of course as more than one, if it was only one I would have dealt with it long ago.”

“Do you know who they are?”

“No, they always were their masks.” he said, before the image of his aunt popped in his head “But that’s not my biggest concern now.” 

“You need to set your priorities straight, mate” Ron laughed, getting a scolding look from Hermione.

“You will worry too when you hear who I met last night in the woods, mate.” he mocked “Bellatrix Lestrange tracked me down to her house.” Draco said with a cock of his head in your way.

Both, Hermione and Ron froze in place staring at him with panicked looks “Th-that’s impossible.” Hermione whispered, running her hand over her wrist “Molly killed her in front of me. I saw it.”

“I think I can tell when my aunt is in front of me.” he said and you gasped.

“That woman I hit in the head was you aunt!?” you asked with wide eyes, Draco nodding without thinking too much about it.

“You’re wrong,” Ron fought, shaking his head “Mum killed her.”

“Well, she didn’t do a great job. Did she?” Draco hissed exasperated.

“Hey!” you intervened “Calm down, okay?” you told him, placing a hand in his shoulder “What are you supposed to do in this situation?” you asked.

Hermione looked too lost in thought, her eyes wild as she kept on rubbing her wrist, her pacing never faltering. So Ron stood up, he made her a silent question with a nod of his head, which she limited to answer with a small smile, only the corners of her mouth lifting. 

“I need to take you to the Auror’s office,” Ron said to Draco. 

“What good will that be?” he said in defeat “Nothing has been done about the others.”

“Trust me on this,” Ron said, a look of determination in his eyes “They'll care when they know Bellatrix Lestrange is alive.”

Draco didn’t want to give in, to have to turn to the Chosen one’s best friend and probably Potter himself for this, to help him. But he didn’t have only himself to think about, one look at you smiling to Hermione trying to distract her from something you couldn’t possibly understand gave him his answer. 

“Very well,” he said, eyes still on you “Lead the way, Weasley.”

If Draco was going to be selfish and stay by your side even if that meant you were in danger, he was going to do everything in his power to lessen that danger. Even if it meant working with his known enemies from Hogwarts.

TAGS: @fanficflaneuse​ @accio-rogers​ @gloriousrebelrunaway​ @slytherinprincess03​ @coldlilheart​ @aasthapiplani​ @nebulablakemurphy​ @strawberriesonsummer​ @l1teralegend​ @infinity1o1​  @nevermore9292 @artist-bby​ @not-today-anxiety​

[night-rise]

F.O.W.L’s PLAN

F.O.W.L... The fiendish organization for World larceny..

They live up to their reputation of being fiendish. A group of criminal masterminds with enough power, brains and resources to give people like Scrooge and Darkwing Duck a run for their money. They are a threat that have the capability to destroy the entire duck family.

Scary part is... that’s just what they’re doing this season..

Their sights are set on anyone connected to Scrooge McDuck and they have stepped out of the shadows to challenge them and destroy them once and for all...

But how?

What’s the plan? What plan can be great enough to challenge them? The Duck family have conquered shadow armies, an alien invasion and have defeated countless other villains.

This beautiful family is strong and is growing stronger with each new ally they meet. BOY’D is a freakin super robot now! And we have Lena! She’s already an army in one lol What could FOWL possibly do to match this families strength?

Well that’s what we’re here to find out! And I think I got something.. Something that very well could be the end of Scrooge and his family...

Hey guys! NightRise here with another head scratching theory that will have you up all night pondering

In my previous and first FOWL theory (which I would suggest you go read before reading this. It’s super short don’t worry lol) I talked about the connections between the Bounce serum and Fentons Energy Crystal. How they both could be related to a larger scheme because both are related to BOUNCING.

But how do these two things fit in with fitches journal? The thing that seems to be FOWLS main focus this season.

What’s the missing piece to this plan?

Well I’m here to kick start the many possibilities that is FOWLS plan and help you all see the connections. Maybe you’ll take something from this to help with your own theories.

Now I’m telling you right now that this theory is absolutely a stretch and has about a 50% chance of being accurate. For the obvious reasons being that we’re not even half way through the season yet and we still have so much more of FOWL left to see.

But because of the pieces that I found connecting so well together and the show going on a little hiatus (boo) I thought I’d go ahead and drop this off now.

It’ll be my final theory on this fiendish organization and I want to share it with you the good people so you have something during the break to think over and keep you up at night theorizing.

So with that VERY long introduction out of the way, lets rise into this:

I’ve been thinking a lot about the bounce serum and it’s capabilities. What FOWL was going to use it for and how they think it’ll help them rule the world.

But how exactly? How does bouncing help with that?

Black Heron said she wanted to use the serum to create super soldiers to cause mass destruction and chaos across the- ... (Why am I having Captain America flashbacks...?)

Anyway!

But the thing with that is from what I’ve seen the Bounce juice doesn’t really cause mass destruction when its consumed by a normal person. It just makes them bounce and invulnerable to fall damage. It didn’t create a shockwave of destruction or anything like that when they landed. So how is she going to cause destruction with it?

Bouncing is only good for escaping or surviving from high up places. How could it possibly destroy anything?

Well I got to thinking. What happens when we bounce in a second story house on the top floor? It creates a stomp. A loud BOOM!

Vibrations

And the higher we jump the greater that vibe is. So I got to thinking where would strong vibrations be the most effective and catastrophic?

UNDERGROUND!

Earthquakes!

According to an adorable red hatted nerd we know, Earthquakes are shifting plates that move.

But as also stated by another adorable duckling “who’s pushing the plates”

(Okay so you might already know where I’m going with this and like I stated previously this is what I meant by this theory being stretched and far fetched. But this was the ONLY connection I could make with this so please bear with me, you’re about to see the connections I PROMISE)

There are only one species I know that are capable of causing earthquakes with little to no effort..

The final piece that I think is in FOWLS plan is.......

The Terrafirmians!

I know, I KNOW it’s crazy. And some of you are probably already leaving but HEAR. ME. OUT. PLEASE. Let me SPEAK. Cause I’m about to explain why.

As usual I’ll try to keep it as brief as I can:

Terrafirmians, ancient rock like cretrues that live in a society deep underground. Not much different from the above ground civilization.

Their capability to move around the earth effortlessly is amazing. And they are incredibly strong. With little to no effort they were able to make a clean safe passage back to the surface for the Duck family in a matter of seconds. Their rock like exterior makes them almost impenetrable.

Honestly they would make the perfect soldiers for anybody.........

So why wouldn’t FOWL want them in their army? They certainly can find a use for them. One specific use in general:

To use the juice

The Bounce juice is an organic drink, so you can’t give it to an army of robots. And we’ve seen what happens when you give it to a normal person. Not much.

But the Terrafirmians with their already tough exterior (which was redesigned in this reboot series. From furry and plush to rocky and tough) would cause a lot of damage if they were bouncing around everywhere. Bouncing is how they operate. They bounce and crash into rocks. But instead of digging right through the earth they’ll bounce right off of it, creating vibrations.

That serum would be perfect for them. Perfect for FOWL. An impenetrable army that could cause so much destruction in an instant. It’s the perfect plan.

Think of the time gap between the two missions involving the bounce serum.

Why did Heron return after so much time had past?

For so many years she could’ve attempted to capture Beakley and get the serum information she needed. So many chances. Why wait? Why was FOWL so quiet for so long and then suddenly pick up where they left off DECADES ago?

What changed?

I’ll tell you what changed. The plan changed. The original idea they had for the serum.

When Heron was explaining the plan she didn’t really sound like she had all the pieces together. Just soldiers bouncing “here, there and everywhere”. It was messy and not well put together.

It sounded like a disorganized plan for an organization.

FOWLS original plan was incomplete and had too many errors. So it was unnecessary at the time. That’s why FOWL didn’t try to go after the juice the first time Heron failed to acquire it. They weren’t desperate. They didn’t need it then. They found it unnecessary.

So why is it now that they are trying to complete that mission? What makes now different from back then? Why is it now necessary to acquire the serum after all this time?

Because they found the final piece they needed.

The Terrafirmians

But wait! How are we even sure we’d see them ever again in this season? Well because we only saw 4-5 of them. There’s an entire civilization of these guys. Are we really not going to explore more of them? This season is all about Huey so why wouldn’t we go back to the first obstacle he faced in the series?

Think I’m crazy?

Remember what Bradford Buzzard said at the end of Double-O-Duck? “We’re going to take it from them. From right underneath McDucks nose” UNDERNEATH! That’s gotta be a clue.

Their FOWL base!! Its underground! They moved from a tower to an underground lair. WHY? The tower looked perfectly fine to me. It seemed to be working just fine. Why move underground? That’s another clue.

But how does Fitches journal (which was found UNDERGROUND) fit into all this? Well allow me to explain.

The Terrafirmians are a peaceful friendly tribe, that have no beef with surface dwellers. If they had a problem with them they would’ve showed up a long time ago. But they haven’t. It’s obvious they want peace.

This doesn’t fit in with FOWLS plan though. So they are looking for a way to change the Terrafirmians way of thinking. Take away their peaceful ideals. They want to corrupt them. Control them

Mind control.

They are looking for an artifact that helps with that. It’s become obvious that they are not looking to acquire every artifact in that journal.

If that was the case they would’ve been there to steal the Harp from the ducks or showed up after they left to take it. But they didn’t. Not a sign of them anywhere.

And they already have the third eye diamond. Found in their personal archives. (How that’s possible is full of theories that I will leave to someone else to work on lol)

But by the way it was presented in the episode Double-O-Duck, it didn’t seem like it was needed. Or important. Just a side project. Why?

Because they are after a SPECIFIC artifact. One that would help with controlling the Terrafirmians. That’s what Bradford meant by “The race is on”. The race to the final key they need. The final key like...

The Stone of What Was!

“STONE”. That’s already connected to the earth. There’s a chance this stone is with the Terrafirmians. Or it might be the case that this stone will help whoever has it find the hidden civilization that is the Terrafirmians.

Kinda strange they’re saving that one for last, don’t you think?

Could that be the final thing they need? Would that bring them total control? Who knows but it’s interesting that the creators of the series would save that adventure for last.

But wait, how does Fentons crystal fit into all of this? How would that help FOWL in anyway?

Well if my previous theory was correct, Gandra is already working on that solution.

See that’s the thing about theories everybody! When you do them, include everyone that applies to it!

Putting certain characters in scenarios that fit them. And that’s what I did with Gandra. Shes a scientist plus she has a connection with Fenton. Her and Fenton obviously are going to meet again. What else would she possibly work on?

She’s going to replicate Fentons experiment on a larger scale. Wrap the Terrafirmians in that same synthetic crystal, like clothing or Energy suits, to boost the power of their bounce.

The greater the bounce the greater the vibration.

FOWL is going to control an army of Terrafirmans, give them bounce juice and wrap them up in Fentons Synthetic crystal so they’ll be powerful enough to create INSTANT EARTHQUAKES!

But not in a city wide rage! Specific locations. FOWL said they don’t want to destroy the world. Just the Duck family. In fact they don’t want to destroy the world at all. But steal it from everybody else. What better way to do that then to have an army of earthquack making soldiers that can split up and target each individual family member and take them out unsuspectedly?

FOWL said it themselves they want to do things smarter. What’s smarter than an earthquake making army you can’t see coming that can take you out before you even know what’s going on? At anytime. ANYWHERE.

The very world itself would turn against the Duck family. It’ll be robbed from them!

They don’t call it “WORLD LARCENY” for nothing am I right?

Magica and Lunaris already tried taking the aggressive approach and failed. Now FOWL wants to do things more stealth like. In the shadows. Leaving no trail that will lead back to them. The charging head first method has failed multiple times so FOWL is trying something different.

Still think it’s crazy?

Well check this out:

What do you guys notice about this picture? For one thing it has every target that FOWL is after on it. But what else do you see? Where are they?

In the sky..

Now why would everybody meet up in the sky? Is it because maybe the ground is currently unsafe? Hmmmmmmmm?!

Brute force is not going to work this time. It’ll be a battle of intelligence. Lucky for us we have a duckling that can out brain all of FOWL

They might have an army

But we have a Huey...

I’m looking forward to seeing the outcome of this season. This hiatus WILL be the end of me I just know it lol but it gives us the fans plenty of time to figure this out. I’ll be looking forward to taking this journey with you all.

If I said it once this season I’ll say it again

BRING. IT. ON. F.O.W.L.

[datawyrms]

Dannymay2020 Day 31: Free Day (ghost sword fight lets go)

It was for science, a good cause. His life would be so much better if he didn’t have to hear his parents gleefully discuss ripping apart some mindless ectoplasmic scum molecule by molecule. Right now though, he was remembering the other reason he flinched in horror when having to take his parents anywhere. Complete embarrassment. One extra downside to ghost powers: knowing you actually can just have the ground swallow you up in shame, but knowing you really, really shouldn’t. When your dad is sitting with sodas strapped to his head and waving a foam finger with your friend’s name on it, it got very tempting.

He’d almost prefer dealing with an ecto gun. “Dad, you’re actually going to pay attention, right?”

“Course I will Danny-boy! That goth friend of yours will kick that ghost right back to its own dimension, and I’ll be watching.”

The half ghost groaned, crossing his arms. “Dad.”

“And totally see if it’s actually a fight with rules. I did listen, son! It’s just good to see young people taking up ghost hunting!”

“This isn’t ghost hunting!”

“Right. Your friend is just going to clobber a ghost with a sword. For Science!”

Well he wasn’t wrong exactly, but it wasn’t helping him not regret every second of this stupid plan. “It’s more Sam’s doing the ghost a favour, and Sam’s doing me a favour by letting us watch. Sooo don’t go calling the ghost scum or anything. Please.”

“Hmmhm. I did read your notes son. You think I’d come with no weapons if I thought your observations were shoddy?” he clapped the boy on the back, who had to struggle to not fall over. “Still gotta root for your friend kiddo!”

Yes. Yes he did, actually. Yet asking his dad to maybe be a little less enthusiastic was like asking the sun to maybe be a little less bright. Pointless, and possibly amusing to anyone overhearing you. “She manages without a cheering section most of the time,” he felt the need to point out before heading down the hill to check in with Sam.

“I don’t know what I expected. Not that, that’s for sure.”

“Tell me about it. I didn’t think he’d do anything but scowl from the hill because he’s worried about a dastardly ghost. Sorry.” he rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking between his friend and the bright orange blight on the hillside.

“Nah. Arlas will probably get a kick out of it anyway, she likes having an audience,” Sam shrugged, fiddling with the lightweight wooden sword. “I have a few new tricks. Who knew Star of all people would like fencing?”

“Did she swear you to secrecy?”

“Bought my silence by being a pretty good practice partner,” her grin faded somewhat “Guess I’ve been buying into their ‘popular’ shtick too. She’s not that bad.”

“Then I’ll pretend you didn’t tell me. You don’t think she’ll try and talk to Dad, right? That could get ugly real quick.”

“She might. She knows to keep the whole met in the ghost zone thing quiet, but I can’t promise much else,”

“Well I can’t promise he won’t call her putrid protoplasm so we’re totally doomed.”

“Maybe we can make it sound like good natured ribbing?”

“With what ribs?” Danny smirked in spite of himself

“Oh shut up you. Go worry about not turning invisible trying to hide from your dad or something. I’ve got this.”

He nodded, backing off to head back to his expected spot. He wasn’t meant to know the ghost well, after all. He did notice the ghost showing up before anyone else, but forced himself to act oblivious.

“Oh, there’s the spook! You mentioned the heavy leg armor, these ones can’t do the leg shapeshifting thing, right?”

Danny blinked. He’d actually read and paid attention to all of it? “Yeah, that’s right. It can be pretty heavy since they don’t have to walk much with the whole flying thing, apparently.” his eyes flicked to his Dad’s face, trying to figure out how the man felt about Sam and this ghost greeting one another in friendly terms. He didn’t look angry, so maybe it was a good sign?

“First to three hits is what you said, right?”

Man this felt weird. Answering things about ghosts without constantly worrying he’d be called a ghost for it. “Sam’s pretty sure five would take too long. Either because she gets tired out, or a ghost hunter barging in.” Something he had almost done three times, but he couldn’t mention that bit.

Jack kept his eyes fixed on the two, leaning forward even as he slurped from the ridiculous soda contraption. “That’s how she wins, right son?” he pointed as Sam blocked a swing and danced backwards, forcing the knight to give chase. “She outruns em and can go for smaller openings.”

“How did yo-yeah. That’s usually how, since she can’t just fly after her…” How could he pick up on that and not his son literally falling through things for a month?

Arlas looked as if she might have caught on to Sam’s usual plan as well, backing off instead of pursuing after another failed clash. He honestly had zero idea what to do in that situation that wasn’t ‘shoot ecto blast’, but his friend seemed to have a decent idea, feigning a left swing before jabbing forward at a much greater speed.

“Ha! Lookit that, already winning!”

“You’ll distract her if you cheer louder.”

“Nah, your little friends are tough!”

He did seem to be right, the boisterous cheering when Sam had the upper hand not earning as much as a glance from the fight. Sam did shoot Danny a look at the boo his Dad made when Arlas managed to turn a block into a strike Sam couldn’t defend against in time, and he could only shrug. Hopefully the knight wasn’t too annoyed at the blatant favoritism. Or maybe she expected it, being a visitor and all.

Still, making it through the combat without having to stop his Dad from trying to capture or hurt the ghost was pretty good. Even if it was still really weird to have him just watch. He personally didn’t even need to watch the fight, watching Jack was more than enough indication on how things were going. Okay, maybe he was a bit paranoid, watching just in case he had to do some split second overshadowing. Moreso now that the ghost apparently wanted to say hello to the watching human, to his complete dismay.

“Oh, so it is a family thing! What interesting armor.” Arlas said, looking at the bright orange jumpsuit. 

Jack did seem a little surprised at the possible complement, hiding it with a nod. “Always need to be prepared!”

Danny manared to peek out from behind his fingers. Dad hadn’t threatened her. That was progress. That was good! Him possibly wondering why she thought jumpsuits were a family thing was not good! Sam’s advice of remembering not to turn invisible suddenly seemed very useful.

“Still I hope it was a good show. Sir Manson is still a bit too fast for me, but I’ll figure out a way around that soon, you’ll see.”

“You could just lose the armor, you’re way better at planning than I am.” Sam pointed out, earning a laugh from the ghost.

“If I plan to work in it, I must be able to beat you in it! The extra preparation can only be a good thing. That, and I can use the same trick on the others if they get overconfident.”

“So you consider being a knight as a job? You could do something else if you got bored of the sword swinging gig?” Jack asked, hand on his chin as he watched the floating knight.

“Of course! There are plenty of things to do back home, but who wouldn’t want to help protect the Queen? It’s not like I cannot retire when I no longer wish to do it.” she paused, looking up at the sky as if searching for an example. “I suppose you do not really have proper communities of ghosts over here, just the stronger sorts or the occasional animal?”

“Nope. We just get the town attacking beasties”

“Ah, well who doesn’t? Troublemakers will be troublemakers.” she shrugged easily, apparently not considering herself a ‘beastie’.

Jack considered the answer, the loud slurping sound rather at odds with the pensive look on his face. Surely he didn’t think this ghost would make up an entire fake backstory, or be perfectly fine with losing to a human in a fair fight while being ‘mindless’. “So the Fentons are known over in your world then?”

“Well I wouldn’t say unknown. The outfits are pretty memorable! Yours more than your son’s. He is your son, I think. That’s the right term?”

Of course she had to bring up his jumpsuit. That he never wore. Because it was on his ghost form. Sam’s wince in sympathy did not help.

“See Danno, even the ghosts think you need more colour! Even Jazz’s is blue, maybe we should get you an orange one.”

“Maybe. Mine’s fine, thanks.” he managed to speak, hoping he didn’t sound too much like he’d been internally choking.

Sam took up damage control before her friend managed to be more suspicious than a wolf in a sheep pen. “Well, I’ve got stuff to do, and Arlas does too. See ya Mr. Fenton.”

The ghost did seem a little put out to not continue to chat, but took Sam’s lead, turning invisible before making her way back home.

“Not even going to try and scare anyone while she���s here huh? Interesting.” Jack commented. “Certainly a lot to think about kiddo! Our little researcher,” he ruffled Danny’s hair, earning a grunt from his son. “You think you might be able to arrange talking to some of these other ‘non-violent’ ghosts?”

“Oh. Yeah. Probably? Not right away, but sure.”

“Great! I want to see for myself if the stories line up. If they do, then we’ll need to figure out why only the blobs and animals showed up before the portal.” he got to his feet, apparently wanting to go write things down in the lab right away.

“Because they were the only ones dumb enough to leave the ghost zone without a portal to go home with.” Danny muttered “The smart ones wouldn’t risk it,”

“Right, you scrawled that on the back of your folder. Which ghost told you that again?”

In truth? Frostbite. Yet he didn’t have a way to explain that. “Phantom.”

“Well you can’t use yourself as a primary source son, that’d be considered speculation.”

Danny could only stare. Whoops.

[everwitch-magiks]

dance with somebody (ch. 22)

start from ch. 1 | back to ch. 21

It's 13:52 on Sunday afternoon when Whiskey knocks on the open door to coach Hall's office.

"Do you have a minute?"

Coach Hall looks up from the folder he's browsing through. If he's surprised to see Whiskey wearing jeans and a hoodie when practice starts in less than ten minutes, he doesn't show it.

"Connor. Good to see you." Coach Hall sets the folder aside. "Will mentioned that you had something very urgent come up, this week."

"That's right." Whiskey closes the door behind him and sits down in the chair opposite coach Hall's desk. "I'm sorry I had to be absent at such short notice."

"No notice, is more like it," coach Hall points out. His tone is not unkind. "I hope, Connor, that you feel comfortable talking to me and Murray when there's something that you're dealing with. We're always here to support you, you know."

"... Right." Suddenly, Whiskey wonders why he hasn't once considered the idea of talking through the situation with his coaches. That might've actually helped him figure things out, sooner. "Yeah, of course."

"Well," coach Hall says mildly. His expression is tentatively curious. "Was there something specific you wanted to talk about, today?"

"Actually, yes."

There's really nothing left, now, except to come right out and say it.

"I just turned down a six-figure contract with the Houston Aeros."

Coach Hall sits up a little straighter.

"Connor," he says, almost sharply. "Connor, that's… That's a really big deal. And certainly not just financially."

"I know," Whiskey agrees. "It would've been. But I've thought about it a lot, and realised that it's just not right for me, right now."

Coach Hall opens and closes his mouth, twice. He's frowning slightly.

"Are you sure?" he asks, a little wearily. "Are you absolutely sure? You do know just how big of an opportunity this is?"

"No, I know. And I'm sure." Whiskey actually smiles. "Going to Houston this week has reminded me that I'm actually exactly where I need to be, right now. Their team is very good, and I did appreciate the ambition of the Aeros's organisation, but there are many places I could play that meet those exact requirements and Samwell happens to be one of them. Besides, there’s still so many things that I'm learning, here, that I honestly don't think I could truly develop anywhere else. I've come so much further with how I think about teamwork and leadership, but at the same time I feel like I've only just scratched the surface of all of that, and I just… I'm not done, here. No matter what comes next, I know I need to finish this chapter, first."

 Whiskey falls silent. Coach Hall watches him for a moment, before he responds. He's smiling, now.

"As long as you're sure," he says warmly. "Obviously, we would absolutely hate to lose you. It'd be such a nightmare, trying to get this team to have some semblance of direction without you."

"Oh. Uh. Thank you, I guess." God, Whiskey is definitely not used to coach Hall looking so openly proud and emotional. At least not when they're not winning NCAA championships together. It's more than a little unsettling. "Jack Zimmermann says hi, by the way. He thinks I should probably start to consider getting myself an agent."

"Don't tell me those Falconers are after you, too," coach Hall says amiably. "Our dear Jack definitely makes a good point, though. You know, me and Murray could actually help you look into all of that. If you'd like us to?"

"Oh," Whiskey says again. Another possibility he's never once entertained. What was it Dex said at the beginning of this week, about relying on all of his support systems? "Actually, that would be so great."

"I'll make a few calls," coach Hall promises. "Right now, though, I believe you and I both have practice to attend."

"Actually, I'm going to need to sit out, today," Whiskey says quickly. "It's been a pretty rough week. But, uh, I'd really like to just speak to the team, first? Just quickly. I promise I won't keep them for long."

Coach Hall smiles again.

"Of course. That's perfectly fine. Go on, then, Connor."

When Whiskey enters the locker room, the ongoing conversation immediately quiets in a way that isn't exactly subtle. Pips is looking at him, and so is Louis, and when he makes no move to change into his hockey gear, he soon captures the full attention of at least half the room.

"Can I talk for a second?"

It's maybe a silly thing to say, given that most of them are clearly listening to him, already, but it still makes the energy change significantly. There's something expectant in his teammates's expressions as they all turn to look towards him. It's almost like they've been waiting for his moment of truth this entire week. Which, Whiskey belatedly realises, they actually might have been.

Well. Nothing else for it.

"I'm going to sit out practice, today. I've had a bit of a week, and I honestly just need to go and crash. But first, I really want to get you guys in the loop about something that's been going on, now that it’s all settled."

Whiskey pauses. Making the call to Houston was tough, but this is somehow turning out to be much more nerve wracking. Which doesn't really make any sense. This is supposed to be the easy conversation, the one where he doesn't need to deliver any bad news.

Whiskey takes a shaky breath. If he just gets this over with, he can finally get some actual fucking sleep.

"I’ve just spent four days training with the Houston Aeros, who have offered me the opportunity to sign a contract with them, which I’ve decided to decline. So, that’s that."

A few seconds pass as the entire team stares at Whiskey in silence.

"Wait," Joyo says slowly. "The Houston Aeros? Like, the NHL team?"

Whiskey has to bite back a smile.

"No, the other Houston Aeros," he says, just a bit dryly. "Yes, Joyo, the NHL team."

"What the fuck, man," Louis says. He looks oddly impressed. "That sounds pretty big."

"Yeah," Bully chimes in. "That sounds very big. Extremely big. Are you, like, completely sure?"

There's something of a murmur of agreement.

"I'm sure," Whiskey says firmly. "There are obviously a lot of pros and cons, but ultimately-"

"What if you regret it?"

It's Pips who's spoken up. He looks a little more shaken up than the rest of them, and there's a definite quiver in his voice as he continues.

"Playing in the NHL is what you want, isn't it? What if you stay, to play here with us, and we don't… And it ends up not being worth it, in the end? What if we're just holding you back?"

"Hey, no. No." Impulsively, Whiskey takes a step forward. "Look. I've never thought more about anything in my life, and I've honestly never felt more certain about a decision. Not ever. Please try to believe that."

Pips doesn't look like he believes that. He looks more like he's about to fucking cry. Whiskey desperately tries to recall everything he managed to tell coach Hall just minutes earlier, all those perfectly coherent thoughts and reasons he's settled on after a whole week of careful consideration. He fails. It's like those words don't even exist inside his brain, anymore, now that Pips is looking at him like Whiskey has just made his entire world fall apart.

The words that do come to Whiskey are a lot more vulnerable than he’d ever thought he might find himself comfortable with.

"You know, it's actually kind of funny." Whiskey smiles, helplessly. He knows he must be looking all soft around the edges, and there's a very poorly concealed tremor in his voice. He still carries on. "I've realised so much, this week, but it hasn't been about hockey, or even about the reality of going pro. Honestly, it's been more about all of you. You guys have all taught me so fucking much, and every time that I stepped out on the ice in Houston, I just… I felt that. It was like I was carrying that with me. Like I was carrying you with me. You guys make me better, always, and there are still so many ways that you're helping me grow. And the thing is, I'm not anywhere near ready to let that go. Maybe I should be, maybe it'd be smart or whatever, but I'm just not, and I'm the only one who gets to make that call. So, I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying. I'm going to be a senior on this team, and I'm going to graduate."

He pauses briefly. It's not like his words have the exact effect he hoped for – Pips is actually crying, now, for one – but Pips has started to smile, too, and so have many of the others. Tango is wiping at his eyes, and Ford's got an overwhelmingly fond expression, and Dex is looking all sorts of proud and pleased and emotional. Fuck. If Whiskey doesn't manage to lighten the mood, somehow, this is definitely going to derail into some sort of collective crying session.

"And we're going to take this thing all the way through the fucking playoffs!" he adds, with as much energy as he can manage. "Right?"

There's a few whoops of approval and some much needed laughter. Pips is still crying, though, and actually, so is Jader. And suddenly, both Dex and Ford are getting up to give Whiskey a hug. Soon, there's an actual fucking line forming.

He’s not crying. He’s not.

"If you weren't already fucking locked in for the captaincy," Tango says under his breath when they hug, "This would've sealed the deal."

The team doesn't make it out on the ice for quite a while. Their coaches don't come looking for them, though, most likely because Hall probably had a hunch something like this might happen. He can be awfully perceptive, sometimes.

"I carry you with me," Louis quotes, grinning. They've all settled down a little. Emphasis on little. "Is that gonna be the new got your back, now?"

"Nah," Ford says. She sounds surprisingly confident. "It's just different words for the same thing."

"Is it, though?" Louis wonders thoughtfully.

"It is," Whiskey admits. He's finally managed to sit down. "It absolutely is."

"Dude," Hops says eagerly. He’s looking at Whiskey with something like actual excitement. "You've got to give us the scoop on the Aeros."

“Oh, yes!” Joyo agrees enthusiastically. “Oh my God. Start with everything.”

“What’s their usual practice like?”

“Are they even any good?”

“Think they’re gonna make the playoffs?”

“That signature play, when Ducky passes to Lacer as he's moving down the ice without as much as a glance over his shoulder. How the fuck do they time that?”

Whiskey smiles.

“They don’t. Time that, I mean. They just fucking shoot, and then pray, and somehow, it connects. But no, I don’t actually think we’ll be seeing them in the playoffs. They’re very good, and some of their defensive plays are really something, but their best forwards are gonna be out for a while and they’ve got a little too far to catch up. But, uh, maybe don’t tell Ducky I said that.”

“Whiskey,” Pips says admonishingly. He’s actually full-on grinning, now – finally. Whiskey is so relieved, his eyes almost water all over again. “When and where, exactly, did you imagine that we’d all be exchanging chirps with Ducky?”

“Um.” Whiskey hasn’t been sure of when he should mention this part. Apparently, there’s no time like the present. “At our next game? I ended up getting a couple of the guys tickets. And actually, I sort of already promised Ducky that I’d get him a signed Samwell jersey, so. You guys all better have my back on that.”

It takes about five seconds before the room collectively loses it.

ch. 23

[loki-lover84]

Season 01 Episode 01: “The Dragon’s Call”

I stormed down the cold stone corridors determined to get away from Uther, Arthur and any of the guards, once again Uther had sentenced another person to death for having magic and he honestly didn’t show any signs of remorse. That thing is cruel, petty and an abomination to the human race; he has the power to dictate who in Camelot may live and who must die but instead of executing the people that commit horrific crimes he goes out of his way to track down any that may possess the gift of magic and put an end to them just because they exist. I have slandered him and called him a coward many times, he kills what he can’t even begin to understand. Magic itself isn’t the issue, the issue only occurs when it is used for evil that is something that once again Uther can’t seem to understand.

In my fury I’d ended up bumping into Guinevere and knocking my sisters dresses onto the hard dusty stone ground.

“Oh Gwen, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to!” I apologised picking up each delicate silk gown from the ground.

“Lady Y/n, you needn’t apologise. I was in the way clearly.” Gwen attempted to reason.

“Gwen, I’ve told you countless times to refer to me as Y/n you don’t need to add the Lady part I don’t like it especially not when it’s coming from you, my friend.” Gwen smiled timidly at me as I walked with her to the scullery to assist with cleaning my sisters dresses.

“I’ll never understand why you insist on doing the chores assigned to us you’re supposed to-“

“Get bored after doing nothing in my room or wander the castle aimlessly as I’m forbidden to venture anywhere else, yeah not my fancy.” I interrupted.

“What did King Uther do this time?”  She questioned as we waited for the fire to do its part and heat the water up.

“He’s sentenced another to death for practicing sorcery, whether the man was or wasn’t doesn’t really matter all too much to him just as long as he gets the power to say they live or they die.” I huffed as I began to scrub away the dust and dirt off the first of Morgana’s dresses.

“He believes he’s keeping the kingdom safe.” Guinevere attempted.

“The kingdom isn’t safe from his bad decisions though; let’s face it they’re a greater danger than magic.” I ranted causing Gwen to sigh but she was amused by my statement.

“You keep scrubbing at the rate you are you’ll have me out of a job.” She laughed trying to lighten the mood.

“Never, for you shall receive the credit and they shall be none the wiser.” I smiled before continuing, “What’s next on your to do list today then?”

“I was going to go out to the lower town, I need to get some supplies.”

“Great I’ll join you, anything to get me away from here for a while.” I respond as we air out the dresses.

“Are you sure that’s wise I mean, King Uther’s already angry at you is he not what if today’s the day he catches you?” My friend asked anxiously.

“I don’t fear him besides what’s the worst that’ll happen?”

Guinevere walked alongside me she kept seeming like she wanted to say something, anything to change my mind but knew it’d be like talking to the castle’s stone walls. Eventually we reached my room and I pulled out the chest that was tucked under my bed and out of sight before revealing its contents of commoners clothing which to me was actually rather charming but to most people was all they could get. With some of Guinevere’s assistance I was able change out of my noble clothes and into my common ones.

With Gwen’s usual aid in keeping the guards occupied I was able to sneak around and out of the castle without a single guard harassing me, we’d arranged to meet up in the lower town so we could purchase everything she needed, everything was going to plan until a swarm of the townsfolk sped up the courtyard capturing me in their tight knit hoard. I was so close and now I was back in the courtyard unable to move and forced to behold the treacherous sight I desperately wanted to avoid…

The execution.

The drums began their solemn steady beat as two guards brought forth the man whose life was about to be stolen from him.

“Let this serve as a lesson to all, this man Thomas James Collins is adjudged guilty of conspiring to use enchantments and magic. And pursuant to the laws of Camelot, I, Uther Pendragon, have decreed that such practices are banned on penalty of death.” I woman shoved passed me to get a closer look causing me to fall onto a raven haired man.

I utter a small apology to him and continued to glare up at Uther.

“I pride myself as a fair and just king.” He continued.

“You’re a delusional, arrogant, pigheaded King.” I scoffed under my breath causing the raven haired guy I’d just bumped into to titter slightly.

“But for the crime of sorcery, there is but one sentence I can pass.” Thomas was forced onto his knees his head on now held against the block.

I looked around anywhere I could to avoid the inevitable and saw my twin lower her head in disgust as she beheld the sight. Knowing she was watching this made my stomach fall, I’d always tried to keep her distracted and away from these events but today it seems she chose to watch. Unable to look at my sister I scowled at Uther and watched as without a care, without remorse he lowered his hand signalling for the executioner to behead Thomas. The boy next to me gulped and tensed, I’m not sure what he was expecting to happen seen as though he’d willingly come to see this but his reaction certainly held elements of shock and fear? The rest of the crowd gasped, at least they had some elements of humanity in them.

“When I came to this land, this kingdom was mired in chaos, but with the people’s help, magic was driven from the realm. So I declared a festival to celebrate 20 years since The Great Dragon was captured, and Camelot free from the evil of Sorcery. Let the celebrations begin.” Uther dismissed his face gleaming with pride.

The crowd started to disperse until a woman cried loudly gaining everyone’s focus, even Uther remained upon his balcony.

“There is only one evil in this land and it is not magic! It is you. With your hatred and your ignorance…you took my son.” She cried to Uther as the crowed cautiously backed away from her. “I promise you before these celebrations are over, you will share my tears. An eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth… a son for a son!” My heart pounded not Arthur yeah he could be a royal prat sometimes but he didn’t deserve to lose his life over Uther’s decisions.

“Seize her!” Uher commanded.

The old woman began chanting something in a high pitched squeal before she eventually disappeared from sight and creating a sudden gust of wind. Cautiously everyone disbanded and I snuck back out among the crowd to help Gwen once again.

I’d remained quiet the entire time I spent with her, I’d witnessed not only the execution but the threat on Arthur’s life. Arthur was like a brother to me we grew up together Arthur, Morgana and I we’d always been there for one another and now because of Uther, Arthur’s life was in danger.

The sun was setting by the time Guinevere and I had finished in town and it was probably best that we got back to the castle to perform our respective duties, Gwen’s to work and mine to float around the castle looking pretty and being the envy of others much like my sister, if only they knew. I scurried back to my chambers, Brenna my maid assisted with my redressing to look my part.  Brenna and Gwen were my closest friends and I knew I could trust them with anything all the servants knew I helped them out but, only they knew and helped me sneak out of the castle.

“Thank you Brenna,  I got caught up Gwen today I apologise for my absence.” Brenna smiled at me and shook her head.

“Hey, you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do to avoid our pompous King.” I couldn’t help but laugh at her boldness, she’s always true to her opinions and to herself and that’s what I love about her.

“Have you seen Morgana today?” Brenna shook her head as she made my hair look presentable. “She witnessed the execution today is all and I just want to make sure she’s alright.”

“Well from what I’ve heard she avoided everyone today and requested for time to think.” I find it great that if the slightest thing happens around Camelot somehow Brenna is the first to know.

“Thank you so much, I’m going to go and check on her hopefully Uther hasn’t completely corrupted her yet.” With that I left Brenna to her own devices and searched for my sister.

I was at the bottom of a stone staircase when I heard Uther conferring with Morgana.

“What is this? Why are you not joining us at the feast?” Uther’s voice sounded.

“I just don’t think chopping someone’s head off is cause for a celebration. That poor mother.” Morgana replied.

“You’re starting sound like your sister, it was simple justice for what he’d done.”

“To whom? He practiced some magic. He didn’t hurt anyone.”

“You were not around 20 years ago. You have no idea what it was like.”

“How long are you going to keep punishing people for what happened then?”

“Until they realize there is no room for magic in my kingdom. You will be with me when I greet Lady Helen.”

“I told you I want no part of these celebrations-“

“I’m your guardian! I expect you to do as I ask. If you show me no respect, at least respect our finest singer. You should stay away from your sister more she’s a horrible influence on you!” With that Uther began to storm away.

“You know, the more brutal you are, the more enemies you’ll create.” Morgana called to him as I walked up the stairs.

“Morgana, are you okay?” I ask gazing at my sisters infuriated expression.

“I see what you mean about him Y/n I really do.” The pair of us stood in a peaceful silence for a moment before heading back to our chambers for the rest of the evening.

 “Aren’t you glad all you did was brush my hair?” I teased Brenna.

“Yeah, it would’ve been a shame if one of my amazing styles was only worn for fifteen minutes.”

“You can leave no you know.”

“But-”

“But nothing, get home and take care of yourself I see us as equals, you should too.” With that Brenna left and went home knowing she didn’t actually need to come back and ‘work for me’ yet she still does all the same.

 The Next Morning

 Brenna and I met up with Gwen and decided to help her dry the rest of Morgana’s dresses out of the windows as it was a pleasantly warm day.

“Keep hold of that especially tight, it’s one of her favourites.” I said to Brenna as I wafted another out of my window. “Hey look, surprise, surprise Arthur’s being a prat again.”

Guinevere and Brenna stopped what they were doing and stood beside me.

“I wish someone would just put him in his place sometimes, he can be so rude.” I grumbled.

“He’s just showing off in front of the other knights.” Brenna chimed.

“He still shouldn’t treat him like that though.” Gwen said clearly irritated.

“Tell me about it. Oh wait what’s happening here?” Brenna asked getting excited.

“At least someone’s trying to help.” Gwen sighed.

“Arthur’s not going to like that…Geez that was unnecessary!” I gasped as Arthur twisted a raven haired boy’s arm behind his back before motioning to the guards. “Arthur don’t be such a prat!” I growled as the guards took the lad away.

I left angrily leaving Gwen and Brenna to finish the remainder of the dresses in attempt to defend this stranger. Sadly by the time I got there he was already in the cells and he wasn’t allowed visitors either that or I was still forbidden from going down there after last time.

As night came Gwen got Morgana ready and Brenna helped me get ready for our guest performer, I didn’t want to be there but Uther demanded Morgana’s presence and she’d requested my emotional support so how could I refuse my own twins plea for help. Once we were prepared we stood waiting patiently in the throne room Gwen stood behind Morgana and Brenna stood beside me. Eventually Lady Helen arrived and Uther hurried to greet her.

“Lady Helen. Thank you so much for coming to sing at our celebrations.” Uther welcomed as she curtsied before him.

“The pleasure’s all mine.” Lady Helen smiled at him.

“How was your journey?”

“Oh the time it took sire.”

“Well, it’s always worth the wait.” Uther charmed as he politely kissed the back of her hands.

“It will be.” Lady Helen says ominously as she fiddles with her necklace.

After the welcoming of Lady Helen we’re quickly dismissed.

“Seriously, I spent longer doing your hair than you did wearing it like that.” Brenna grumbled as we walked back to my chambers.

I couldn’t help but laugh, no matter what she can always get a smile out of me.

“I’ll keep it up like this until I actually go to sleep if you’d prefer then your efforts wouldn’t be wasted.”

“Yes, do that.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Our faces were hard and firm until we locked eyes and ended up laughing at our extremely childish behaviour.

“Now go to the tavern and have fun for me.” I say ushering her away.

“Of course, Lady Y/n whatever you say.” With that she grinned at me and hurried off to the tavern to spend her wages.

 I’d snuck out once again with Guinevere only this time it was in hopes of finding Brenna she hadn’t shown up in my chambers earlier which was fine, she probably had a hangover but a few hours went by and she still wasn’t here so I found Gwen explained the situation and we hurried off to find her.

“She’s a nightmare that Brenna, keeps us all up takes our money then passes out knocking over my ale in the process. As if leaving me broke wasn’t bad enough!” I purple faced man complains loudly as he staggers out of the tavern clinging onto his red faced friend.

“My first time going to the tavern is not going to be just to take home my unconscious friend. Gwen pretty please can you get her, I want our first time to be special.” I ask childishly admiring the tavern.

Gwen shakes her head at my behaviour but goes in by herself nonetheless. Seconds later a swarm of giddy children rush by me, as much rotten food in their hands that they can carry. Curiously I follow them and I’m led right to the stocks, where the raven haired guy from earlier is as food is flung at his head. Remaining out of the line of fire I approach him and his breathtaking blue eyes meet my e/c ones. Okay he’s far more attractive than I initially gave him credit for, he’s looking at me. Y/n say something!

“Hi.” I squeak out. Well Y/n that was pathetic congratulations at being useless when talking to boys.

“Hello.” He smiles up at me despite his predicament.

“I’m Y/n, I help out around the castle sometimes.” I introduce, well it’s not a complete lie and I had to say something right?

“Right. Well, I’m Merlin…” He offers as much of his closest hand as he can and try my best to shake it giving the situation. “Although most people just call me  ‘Idiot.’”

“No, I saw what you did, it wasn’t particularly smart but it was brave of you to stand up against royal prat.” I complimented or at least I hope it came off as a compliment.

“It was stupid.” Merlin laughed to himself causing me to smile slightly.

“Y/n.” Guinevere called from behind me with a half conscious Brenna hanging off her. “I’m Guinevere but most people call me Gwen, I’m Lady Morgana’s maid.” She introduced herself.

Merlin’s eyes brightened when he look at her, of course what guy wouldn’t find her to be stunning?

“Merlin.” He smiled at her as I took Brenna off her so she could also shake his hand.

“I saw what you did, it was so brave.” Gwen stated smiling at him.

“It was stupid.” Merlin sighed this time instead of laughing his self-deprecating laugh.

“Well I’m glad you walked away, you weren’t going to beat him.” Gwen said as she charmingly fiddled with her dress.

How can someone do that without looking even the slightest bit weird? I’ve got to ask her at some point.

“Oh, I…I could beat him.” Merlin says almost cockily if it weren’t for the slightly anxious laugh that accompanied it.

“You think? Because you don’t look like one of these big muscly kind of fellows.” She teases cocking her head to one side.

“Thanks.” He replies.

I might as well just leave the pair of them alone and take Brenna to her home until she’s feeling better.

“See you around Gwen, Merlin.” I call as Brenna and I stagger back to her home.

Wow I’m useless with men, it comes so effortlessly with other women, why do I fail miserably at it?

“Aw Milady blew off a lovely gentleman to take care of me I’m honoured.” Brenna slurred a silly grin on her face.

“Yes well the lovely gentleman likes Gwen so I thought we should leave them be.” I attempted to reason with my drunken friend.

“Pfft that won’t last.” Brenna giggled.

“Why not?” I asked genuinely intrigued.

“She likes Arthur, Merlin’s destined to like you.” She sing songed.

“Ah yes because Uther will allow Gwen and Arthur to marry and Merlin is what, my destiny? You lose grip on reality when you’re drunk.” I laugh as I make her some broth.

“It’s true! I promise!” She pleads.

“Okay I believe you now eat up so you can get into bed and be ready for tomorrow.” I kissed the top of her chestnut brown hair before leaving her home and heading back up to the castle walking passed a laughing Merlin and a giggling Gwen.

Upon arrival I changed into my exquisite f/c dress that complimented everything I had to show before pinning back some strands of my hair to speak with my sister.

“Morgana, do you have a minute?” I asked her as I poked my head around her chambers door.

“Of course sister, I have all the time in the world for you.” She smiled brilliantly at me.

“So, you have more experience with boys than I do and I need some help.”

“Which dashing prince stole my sisters heart, or maybe which knight?” Morgana teased as she pulled me into her room.

“Well I don’t know if he has you know because I haven’t the slightest idea when it comes to these sort of things. How am I supposed to feel?”

“Well when you like a guy usually your stomach feels weird and you become flustered so much so that you even sometimes forget how to speak coherently.” She began to explain.

“Okay and how am I supposed to feel when he talks to pretty girls?”

“Well everyone’s different, some people don’t mind it others get angry and annoyed, some become forlorn and feel like they’ve lost all hope.” Morgana calmly answered.

Great so ticks all across the board for liking a guy I hardly know, way to go me.

“Has someone else caught the attention of your love, sister?” Moargana asked a beautiful features contorting into strained ones expressing concern.

“Oh what no, nothing like that happened to me, I’m writing a story and needed help with the relationship front of things, got to pass time somehow around here.” I stuttered before giving her a false smile and leaving quickly.

In my hurry to escape from everything and just get back to my chambers I ended up colliding straight into someone. I tripped on my dress and hit the cold stone floor as did the other person. They were already up on their feet by the time I’d even turned around to take in my surroundings.

“I’m terribly sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.” A familiar voice apologised profusely as they held a hand out to me.

I must’ve done something horrific if this is how life decided to play with me. I kept my head angled down but accepted his assistance in standing up. It’s not always easy when your corset is too tight.

“Thank you, I’m partially to blame though so don’t try to carry all that burden Merlin.” Oh why did I say his name  I’m so stupid!

“Y/n?” Merlin asked as I looked up at him, “I thought you said you helped out here, but you’re-“

“I’m a dear friend of Morgana’s and she gave me one of her dresses for the celebration tomorrow night.” I hurriedly lied, “So, bye Merlin it was nice bumping into you literally.” Before scurrying away.

I’m weird I’m very, very weird . I mean good lie, failed on every other front though. I sighed audibly as I hid my flustered face in my hands and skulked back to my chambers were I spent time clearing my head by leaning out of my window and surveying Camelot in all her beauty. Once again night fall came and Camelot’s truer beauty shone brightly the flaming torches allowed finer parts to look even more exquisite thanks to the assistance of the dramatically casted shadows cascading on to any surface. I took a deep breath and gazed longingly at the moon, now that, natures own creation was the truest beauty of them all.

 Once again the sun rose and Brenna was by my side eagerly waking me up in the most obnoxious of ways.

“Thank you for yesterday off, I really needed the recovery day.” She grinned.

“Yes, I know, you nearly scared Guinevere and myself to death when you didn’t show up and, the state you were in once we found you but hey, at least you gambled your way to fortune the other night.”

“Ah yes I’m a professional at predicting the future drunk and sober.” Her smile weakening slightly as did mine.

“It would be great you know if you really could see into the future like one of those, oh what are they called…”

“Seers, magic folk that can see into the future.” Brenna finished.

“Yeah a Seer it would make my state of mind better if you were one but then again Uther would have you killed so it’s probably for the best that you’re not one eh?” I laughed and Brenna shifted slightly.

After that we spent a few hours just talking about random things but we did make an arrangement for my first tavern visit which I was now eagerly awaiting with baited breath.

“Let’s do visit Lady Morgana and Guinevere I’m sure they’ll need our assistance with Morgana’s dress for tonight.” Brenna said randomly as she pushed me out of my room.

By the time we reached Morgana’s room Chambers we saw a very smiley yet flustered Merlin lean and came face to face with a beaming Gwen. Not what I wanted to see ever but yet there it was.

“So, it’s whether I wear this little tease, or give them a night they’ll really remember.” Morgan said deviously showing her dress options to us.

“Anyone in particular you’re after, maybe a certain blonde haired prince?” Brenna teases. “I’m pretty sure everyone except from him is aware of your intentions towards him.”

“I believe you’re right there Brenna at this rate though I wouldn’t be too surprised though, unless it’s fighting he’s not the sharpest tool around.” Morgan sighed sadly.

“I’m certain he’ll notice you tonight though, don’t worry.” Brenna winked as we decided upon her wine red dress that whilst left little to the imagination also provided a great sense of elegance.

“Y/n what about the boy you like do you have an idea of which dress you’ll wear to recapture his attention?” Morgana asked.

“Y/n you like someone?” Guinevere asked this being obvious new  news to her.

“No these two are just convinced that I do for some reason.” I lied, wanting Gwen to be happy.

“Fine, but you still need to look stunning!” Morgana insisted whilst the other two agreed so I was now shoved all the way back to my chambers after being shoved all the way to my twins.

In the end we decided upon an elegant dress with a dark blue and silver burst and a greyish blue skirt with some light floral embroidery. I didn’t want to go to the celebration in the slightest but, at least I’ll look good while I’m there.

 The celebration arrived sooner than I anticipated and Brenna and I were running late.

“I want you to blow everyone away tonight.” Brenna insisted as we hurried down the corridor my heels clacking against the ground as I held my dress up to run.

“I don’t know why, nobody will be looking at me, it’s either going to be the Lady Morgana or Lady Helen.” I argued.

“Yeah but now, thanks to me you’re another option for them.” Brenna replied.

“I don’t want to be!”

“Merlin will be there.”

“What?” I was amazed she’d even remembered his name, she was barely conscious and yet she somehow knows that, ugh never mind! “He likes Gwen, Gwen likes him we can just let them be happy.” I finally said as we reached the grand hall.

My twin had just entered and had immediately captivated Arthur as well as every other mans attention, I could’ve sworn Arthur murmured “God have mercy.” Whilst she strutted past him but I could be wrong. As I watched her walk with confidence I saw Merlin gazing at her before getting a disapproving look from Gaius.

“In you go.” Brenna ushered but I didn’t move.

“I can’t.”

“You promised Morgana you’d be here with her.”

“Yeah but that was before things go complicated besides she’s got Arthur and everyone else’s attention now.”

“Okay so while they’re all looking at her you and I can sneak in.” Brenna did have a point we could just sneak in now and hopefully remain unnoticed.

“Fine .” I entered the grand hall and walked to the opposite side of the room as Morgana, Arthur and Merlin whilst keeping my head turned away from most people.

Brenna and I chatted amongst ourselves for a while until.

“Don’t look now but a certain Mr Merlin is looking at you with his mouth hanging open.” Brenna whispered.

“It’s not nice to tease Brenna you know that there’s so lines we don’t-“  Before I could finish my sentence she turned me around to face Merlin and she had indeed been telling the truth.

Merlin was looking right at me his mouth slightly agape as Gaius lectured him before walking off. I turned back around to apologise to Brenna when she was suddenly next to Merlin saying something to him with a devious smile on her face as they looked towards my general area. Great I’m being looked at and I’m alone and back to looking like a weirdo. Well until my twin and Arthur came over to me.

“Y/n you scrub up well.” Arthur said.

“Wow geez thanks, as do you my royal prat.” I reply jokingly with a mock curtsey.

“Hey, I was trying to be nice.” He defended.

“Ah leave him be Y/n I’m afraid that’s as silver tongued as our dear friend gets.” Morgan playfully insulted threading her arm through mine.

“That’s not fair there’s two of you and only one of me.” Arthur huffed.

“Yeah that is how twins work you know, two of them all the time.”  I reply before sneaking a glance Merlin’s way whom now had Gwen by his side but at least Brenna was there also so they couldn’t have alone time.

Why do I care I’ve hardly spoken to him, she knows him so much better than I do, I don’t get a say in any of this.

“…Don’t  you agree Y/n?” Arthur asked.

“Hm what?”

“Where is your mind tonight?” Arthur asked.

“Oh is it him, is he here?” Morgana asked peering around the room.

“He, who?” Arthur demanded.

“No one, Morgana and Brenna are convinced I like someone so they keep acting weird and made me dress up like this tonight.”

“Okay so who do you reckon our lovely Y/n’s type is? Mybe it’s him?” Arthur said pointing to someone.

“No, I think more him.” Morgana said pointing at one of the knight’s, “ Or maybe-“ Morgana was cut off by the sound of the horns indicating for everyone to stand by their seats for the King’s entrance before they could actually sit.

“We have enjoyed 20 years of peace and prosperity. It has brought the kingdom and myself many pleasures. But few can compare with the honour of introducing Lady Helen of Mora.” Uther introduced causing an applaud from everyone present, even me out of politeness as he joined Arthur, Morgana and I at the head table.

Lady Helen stood upon a makeshift stage at the back of the hall to perform her song. Her voice was indeed beautiful but the words she sang were not English, there was an enchanting aura to everything about her in this moment, we were held captive to her talent. Slowly and gracefully she approached our table people succumbing to a sleep as she past them. My eyelids felt undeniably heavy and it became a challenge so stay awake to the side I could make out Merlin covering his ears as the room became cooler and darker with each note, Uther was already asleep quickly followed by Arthur and my sister. I fought to remain awake but it felt futile all my energy was being drained, the last thing I saw was cobwebs slowly appearing before I was out.

Minutes later I woke to a dark cobweb infested cold grand hall with the old woman from the execution trapped beneath our once hanging candelabras whom quicker that a flash threw her dagger right at Arthur, had it not been for Merlin, Arthur would be dead.

“You saved my boys life, a debt must be repaid.” Uther spoke to Merlin.

“Oh, well…” Merlin began.

“Don’t be so modest. You shall be rewarded.”

“No, honestly, you don’t have to, your highness.”

“No, absolutely. This merits something quite special.”

“Well…” Merlin sighed shrugging his shoulders slightly.

“You shall be awarded with a position in the royal household.” Uther says clapping his hand against Arthur’s back who in turned looked disgusted by Uther’s suggestion. “You shall be Prince Arthur’s Manservant.”

Poor Merlin, it was as if he’d been punished instead of rewarded for saving Arthur’s life. Everyone else applauded as Uther began to walk away.

“Father!” Arthur complained as neither he nor Merlin seemed particularly happy with the outcome.

People began to leave the grand hall Merlin included as Arthur pouted.

“Arthur, give him a chance. He saved your life treat him with some element of respect!” I said before also leaving the hall.

I was barely out of the doors when I was pulled to one side out of sight from the guards and passersby, a hand was over my mouth to prevent me from squealing in shock. I was up against a wall when Merlin’s bewitching blue eyes met my wide e/c ones once again.

“You’re just a close friend of the Lady Morgana are you, I didn’t think even close friends would be allowed to sit at the King’s table nor influence the prince like you do.” Merlin smirked as he slowly drew his hand from my mouth.

I didn’t know how to respond, I didn’t know if I was even capable of responding, my heart pounded against my chest my breaths uneven, I felt dizzy.

“I-I’m the Lady Y/n, the Lady Morgana’s twin sister.” I stuttered my eyes never leaving his.

“Well then, good night my Lady.” He smirked once again kissing the back of my hand before walking away leaving me dumbfounded using the wall against my back to keep me upright.

“Y/n you look…I honestly don’t know how to politely describe you right now, what did I miss?” Brenna asked a mischievous knowing grin on her face.

“Merlin.” I sighed almost swooning still looking down the hall Merlin just left down.

[aty-altiria]

No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?

On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue

Word count: 2367

Universe: One Piece, Harry Potter

Pairings: Fem!Harry/Portgas D. Ace

Rating: T

Themes: Imprisonment, Soulmate Au - first words, results of torture

Summary: For years, Ace had debated the meaning of that particular sentence. That sentence had been the one etched into the skin of his forearm at birth, and though he didn't know it, had caused his mother to burst out laughing when she'd first held him. 

@whumptober2020

Soft footsteps, possibly cloth shoes.  The noise was different from what Ace was used to with the guards, causing him to open his eyes. Ace could make out little in the darkness of Impel Down even with his eyes adjusted, there was little to be seen unless the guards were present. The guards didn't think pirates deserved such simple things as 'light,' which was another blatant sign of how the government saw its people. Regardless, the darkness meant Ace was all the more curious because he could hear footsteps in the hallway, but the lights were still off.

Ace scanned the halls outside his cell, looked past the bar for any sign of moments. Ace narrowed his eyes, wishing not for the first time he could pull at his flames. Without the sea-stone, he could have lit up the entire level - and escape, don't forget escape - to reveal who was watching him soundless in the dark. If it was anyone at all. He strained his ears, listening for the sound of shoes on stone, and something shifted to the left of his cell door. Ace shot his eyes that way and found himself staring into a pair of glowing green eyes near the floor. They were like a cat in the way they were slit and were the only thing visible in the darkness. Then, the eyes blinked one slowly and vanished. There was a sound Ace couldn't place, almost like the shift of a sail, like fabric.

A moment later, the area around his cell door burst into light. It was bright enough that Ace flinched back and slammed his eyes closed against it. He winced as it shot a severe pang in his head. Before eventually, he forced his eyes open and met green once more… but they were different. They were no longer slitted, and they were no longer sitting at the height of a small house-cat. Instead, they were in the face of a young woman holding a stick with a lit-up tip.

Ace watched the woman tilt her head and scan him. Her eyes danced up and down, taking in the shackles across his body, the bruises littering his body, and the guards' blatant signs of abuse. Then… she smiled. It was a little blood-thirsty, a little fond, and a promised violence for someone that Ace was suddenly sure wasn't him. He assumed so mostly because her outfit and her presence told him she wasn't, in fact, a guard. Meanwhile, she was in Impel, somehow, illegally. Therefore, she was a potential ally.

And then she spoke.

"Guess I'll have to break that pretty face of yours out of prison."

Ace's wasn't ashamed to admit his heart jumped. No jumped was tame, Ace's heart nearly launched out of his chest. Instinctively at those words, Ace found himself leaning forward; the chains at his wrists, stomach, neck, and ankles pulled. They clanked together and stretched, stopping him long before he could get even remotely close to her, and it caused him to growl at the chains even as he stared. Ace stared because she'd actually said it. This unknown woman within Impel Down had actually said it… sure, Ace had been hoping ever since he'd been captured. Still, he hadn't actually imagined it would happen. Ace had been half-convinced by the second week within Impel down that it would be a guard set to say those words and destroy all his hopes. But… she wasn't. She'd actually come.

So many years, Ace had debated the meaning of those words, of that particular sentence. That sentence had been the ones etched into the skin of his forearm at birth. Though he didn't know it, the ones caused his mother to burst out laughing when she'd first held him. The same words caused Garp to be just a little more worried during Ace's childhood and also caused his insistence of Ace becoming a Marine to become stronger. Those words also caused Luffy and Sabo to endlessly worry over Ace because surely that meant once he started his pirate career that he'd only end up in prison?

After all, why else was his soulmate breaking him out of prison?

'Maybe she's a Marine, and you corrupt her?' Was Sabo's not so helpful thought.

'Sabo is probably laughing himself silly in the afterlife about then.' Ace thought as his soulmates form shifted, and she lifted the stick higher in the air. She flicked it then, and Ace watched three small blue lights, similar to Marco's flame colour, spawn into being and float into the cell with him. They were dimmer than the light on the stick, and Ace was thankful for it when his soulmate suddenly extinguished that particular light. She then pointed it at his cell door and whispered something.

The door opened, and Ace watched her glance his way. Then at his lips with a particular expression- oh. Ace hadn't said anything in return. He hadn't said her words yet. She had no idea he was her soulmate- but what in the gods' name did he say? He could actually choose… this never happened. No one got to choose. The words just showed up… they were predestined, Ace would always say what he'd say here. The words he'd speak had been etched onto her arm from birth, and the pressure was intense.

What had he said? Or will say? Or should say?

Ace internally groaned and blurted the first thing to come to mind. "I'm Portgas D. Ace… your soulmate."

Oh.

She shot him an amused look at Ace would have face-planted if he could have. Those had to be the most straightforward words anyone had ever gotten in the history of the world. He'd blatantly told her his full name; she would have had that from birth, an awareness of who he was for her entire life.

Well, at least he could say it was better than someone of the heavily insulting things the other Whitebeard Pirates had gotten.

"Holly Lily Potter-" She stopped beside him and tapped the stick to his shackles. Each one fell open, and Ace felt his flames rush back in as she did it. "-Black-Peverell-Gaunt-Weasley… resident of Earth, a much different planet from your own, and one Portgas D. Ace's soulmate." Holly then leaned back and offered Ace a hand, which he eagerly took. She pulled him onto his feet and said: "surprisingly, there aren't many people with that particular name, even after travelling between worlds to find you."

Worlds? What did she mean by that?

Ace kept his hand in hers when he watched her nose wrinkle suddenly and nearly tried to wrench it back in apology. Instead, his cheeks heated slightly despite it being something he couldn't help. The same Marines that didn't give them light certainly didn't provide them with a bathroom, shower, or substantial meals either. Ace was relatively sure he was rank. "Sorry, I... I'm probably... It's been a while since I could shower," Ace stuttered out nervously. He recalled Makino's every lesson on how to treat a woman. Everything he'd learned about them had been from Makino. However, the woman had snuck them in since Ace had only truly been interested in thanking Shanks for saving Luffy.

"It's fine," Holly assured him as her eyes burned holes in the chains holding him. They were filthy now and coated in dried blood from his wounds; many had been pulled entirely too tight and had chaffed something fierce when he shifted. There was a reason Ace had brutal marks on his wrists and ankles now. Not to mention the shackle around his middle had kept him from breathing when he'd fallen asleep in the incorrect position, meaning doing anything but sitting perfectly upright. "But some of those look infected…" she eyed the reddened skin on the wrist closest to her, ironically giving her a good look at the words she'd etched across his skin.

It caused her to blush, and Ace found himself tightening his grip on her hand. The subtle smile there transformed her entire visage, and that blush did funny things to his heart. Gods, he'd only just met her, and he was already gone.

"I can heal them," Holly offered as she smothered the blush, "after we escape, though? The Marines likely already know we're here… maybe?"

"There are no alarms, you've been subtle… hold on, we?" Had she come alone? From the wording, Ace assumed not.

"My brothers." Holly explained with a fond smile, "they're searching the level for you, teamwork since this place is huge." They still hadn't let go of each other's hand, Ace didn't want to either. He was enjoying the feel of her skin, even if it was just a hand. Though he really wanted a bit more contact… it would have to wait until he had bathed, but…

He wanted to taste her.

Ace had been imprisoned for weeks, tortured for weeks, left in the dark without his flames for weeks. And now his soulmate was here. His other half, the one everyone looked for, longed for. The one who'd accept him, his blood, and his heritage without fail. The one who'd just freed him before his family could die in order to save him.

And, Ace wanted to taste her.

But it could wait.

"Hey, Holly! Did you find him yet?!"

Holly jerked a bit as a voice called from down the hallway. Shooting a sheepish look his way, she called: "He's over here!"

"The right one!"

"About time too, how many worlds has it been Forge?"

"Oh, dozens."

Two voices, nearly the same, but Ace could definitely make out two. He was proven correct, as a set of perfectly identical twins appeared from the right side of his cell. They looked alike in every way; their similarities went down to their very spirit as he sensed them with his haki. The only difference Ace could really find was the one on the left was a bit… quieter in energy than the other. But that was it. Ace knew twins could be similar, he'd even met several sets, but this was ridiculous.

The two settled their eyes on him, and Ace noted something wild in their eyes. In the same way Holly's eyes seemed like a cat the first time he'd seen them; these two had a bit of a forest in them. "You're him then, Ace?"

"Not bad looking, eh, Holly? He's attractive, innit he?"

The other nodded along as Ace tried to follow their bouncing conversation, "Holly's been looking for her soul mate for years,"

"Our home country has some nonsense laws, and they tried to marry her off,"

"So the family packed up, all of us-" "which is a large amount, we have a big family, don't we Greg?" "-and we left that word,"

"We figured her soul mate had to be around somewhere, helpful that we had his name. So we travelled across different worlds."

"Been to a few, Asgard was nice,"

Holly shot him a look from the side; she looked long used to this act, and since she was his soulmate and these two were his family, he went with it. Ace was sure he'd get the pattern eventually. Haki certainly was already helping him.

"Elemental countries was cool, lots of ninja's,"

"I don't recommend any planet during the apocalypse though; zombies are not fun,"

"Then, we reached this one."

"See we've got this spell to test if someone with the name of Portgas D. Ace exists, developed by our own Holly." Ace looked to Holly again, who nodded with a shrug. As she did, she mouthed that she'd explain a bit better and in more detail later, especially the parts going right over Ace's head.

"But we didn't need it, since we got a paper announcing his execution,"

"We started off to 'Impel Down' right away,"

"No way we're letting our little sister's soul mate die, or anyone with his name."

"Not after all that!"

"She deserves love!"

Holly heaved a put upon sigh as Ace felt his emotions do something funny again. She'd… she'd been looking for him for a while, more than he initially assumed. Then, Holly had also been lucky enough to have his name through… worlds? Had she really passed through worlds? Was that even possible? They were certainly acting like it was.

"Worlds?" he asked, utterly forgetting they should probably be escaping.

"Ah," it was Holly's turn to blush now, "maybe let's escape first before I explain… because this will be a long conversation. Starting with… do you believe in… magic? Because that's sort of crucial… for our future."

Ace blinked once, twice, then gestured to the chains left behind. "I've been to an island where rain falls upward, so… sure?"

"Oh, good." The expression on her face was entirely mischievous and Ace… honestly felt a bit excited to see it; he couldn't wait to devour her- and then the twins to interrupt again. Ace was not the only one to shoot them a dark look for it.

"Hey Holly, if we're going to be pirates now. Can I have a hat?"

"Oh, yes! I need a tricorn with a big feather!"

"And a parrot!"

"And an eye-patch!"

Holly reached for Ace's hand, "okay, that's enough now. Ace, picture… home, I guess, wherever that is for you, as clearly as possible.  And… brace yourself, most people throw up the first time."

What?

Ace opened his mouth to ask, and- the world twisted away.