#i also did a round with one of my usual sparring partners after class; i always love rolling with him but it was exhausting because first

[potpiehead]

to get some stuff off my mind

[deepest-dope]

miscellaneous notes about how i think some of my fave raiders do in fist fights including my ocs

chance is pretty well rounded, actually tends to lean towards counter punching in terms of actual tactics even though he is in fact more then strong enough to just clock people the hell out, though if you push him hell fall back on brute force. steady on his feet but doesnt like kicking so keeps it mostly as a last resort. takes hits like a brick wall, in that you are likely to hurt yourself punching him, because he instinctively tenses up as he sees hits coming and with his amount of muscle that rigidity ends up like concrete. Micro taught him the basics of fistfighting and he took well to it. doesnt tend to use dirty tactics but only cause they dont really occur to him and doesnt really have to with how strong he already is.

jessup is a brawler. if youre gonna be dumb you gotta be tough right? but for real hes just one of those guys who have a hard time thinking in action, also has a hard time holding himself back because of it. was the least liked sparring partner in micro’s class in his age range because he was so likely to get too caught up in action and break some other poor kids nose. more likely to kick then chance but not by much, only really tries if his opponent falls on the ground. more likely to fight dirty though, mostly because he gets caught up in fights then out of tactical decision though. fought cave exactly one time and picked up his habit of biting people. now he cant stop. tends to swarm as he gets more engrossed into a fight and has the pain tolerance for it to work just fine for him, hes likely to get more hits in on the other guy then they can on him anyhow

mcmurphy is an outfighter through and through. Does Not Like fistfighting. will only attempt with no other options. extremely defensive in spite of having almost as good pain tolerance as jessup and chance. actually more of a kicker then either. very cerebral too. good at catching weakness in the middle of fights and exploiting them. has a strange sense of politeness though, in that he only fights dirty if the person hes fighting does first. stops more quickly then anyone else too, pretty good at holding back and is a mainstay in khan initiations because of it. one of regis’ favorite helpers for the ritual along with diane and micro, usurps uncle mic after his death even.

daves military upbringing shows through in this with just how much more controlled and practiced he is. most graceful about beating the shit out of people with your hands of any great khan. is versatile too, mixing up his tactics to counter whoever hes fighting. titanium jawed man, youd think he didnt feel pain with the kind of hits hell take and just ignore. habitual kicker, its actually an opener for him, and a frequent flyer in his fistfight tendencies. habitually clean fighter almost to a point of it being hazardous to his health because of how hes trained, though it doesnt usually end up being an issue for him.

belinda is...a LUDICROUSLY aggressive swarmer... absolutely vicious. the constant barrage works decently well with how dirty she actually fights. she kicks a lot more then the others with above average skill. tends to end fights faster then anyone else, usually lethally. slightly below average pain tolerance though, bordering on a glass jaw. most likely to sneak up and snap your neck out of any great khans. doesnt hate fistfights but heavily prefers to stab. keeps her head better then her constant barrage of attack would have you believe so watch out.

jack is pretty decent in a fight, even though he really does not like them. prefers not to be in combat at all but if you drag him into it and he doesnt have guns or other weapons as an option hell go for highly evasive approach. mostly looks for ways out of of fights he ends up in but not really weak. doesnt think to kick like jessup but probably couldnt pull any if he did because hes got somewhat poor balance. arguable dirty fighter but not in a maiming sort of way, more in an actively trying to escape way if you get it? doesnt go on the attack a lot but makes them count when he does. has a slightly low pain tolerance for a khan and avoids being hit like the plague.

diane is like if jack were more aggressive. doesnt like fighting either but more willing to actually fight then jack is. equally likely to take any escape she can find though, slightly better pain tolerance then jack, more steady on her feet and way better at kicking. will absolutely curb stomp if you give her the opportunity, kicks the hardest out of the great khans. tied with jack for most likely to straight up run to avoid fights though

sidewinder is a DEDICATED counter puncher. he has this to an artform. extremely evasive and extremely vicious out of necessity because he has very little endurance and a very brittle glass jaw. not to say hes not dangerous though, he makes every hit he does go for count. best at dodging out of any of the khans too. opposite of dave, he is such a habitually filthy fighter it makes the few fights he does get into worse because hell escalate things with how vicious he is by default. kicks hard as fuck, great balance and extremely light on his feet. tends to use hit and run tactics.

in comparison to almost everyone besides maybe his sister rock is the most avoidant of close quarters combat, not that he or she is bad at it. dedicated counter puncher but in an opposite direction of his brother, blocking instead of dodging. tends to end fights quickly because he hits like a train, his first counter will usually be enough to knock the other guy out. allergic to kicking, needs his feet firmly on the ground. 2nd cleanest fighter next to his dad, highest pain tolerance too.

wild rose is THE most avoidant of straight fights out of anyone and paradoxically one of the most skilled. but shes only slightly less of a glass cannon then sidewinder. she could probably stand to take more hits then she usually does but Does Not Like to. spends so much time avoiding hits and trying to find a way out of the fight you drag her into its almost pacifistic but when she does go in to strike it fucking COUNTS. more likely to knock someone the hell out and ditch fights then anyone else. will abandon any fight at the first opportunity. outfighter to the max.

cave is a habitual swarmer trained to be a counter puncher, decently good defensive. would prefer to avoid direct confrontation entirely via either just leaving or sneak attacking whoever fights him. highest pain tolerance over all out of anyone in this list, but that doesnt mean he doesnt feel it. the longer hes stuck in a fight the farther he falls back into his swarming habit, especially if hes forced to block or has a difficult time dodging. filthy as hell fighter but not to the extent of sidewinder, more likely to cut and outright run then come back to finish his opponents.  the farther you push him the more brutal hell get, culminating in outright mauling you if you dont just let him go. decent kicker, mostly stomps on toes and occasionally leg sweeps though. tied with sidewinder for most likely to maim someone though sidewinder is more likely to attempt finishing them off where cave prefers to cut and run at the first opportunity.

micro, absolute jack of all trades, little more then decent at most of the above tactics, prefers to use weapons but doesnt hate throwing hands as hard as some others do. taught most of the younger khans to fist fight and it shows in some of their habits, mccmurphy blocks the exact same way he does, jessup opens with a left hook the same way he does. chance in particular has his almost ridiculous pain tolerance. micro personally tends toward counter punching, with a similar sense of politeness as mcmruphy, though he fights dirtier when it comes down to it.

[chubbyheroesworthyheroes]

How about Silas (Fates) and Raphael (3H)? In Silas' supports with Kaze, Kaze is secretly giving him more food as thanks for saving him (like refilling Silas' soup bowl when Silas isn't looking). I thought this could continue unnoticed until Silas can't fit into his armor. For Raph, I figure he's the type of person whose solution to everything is MOAR GAINZ. So what if Balthus bests him in practice combat, so Raph ups his caloric intake but ends up putting on a layer of chonk (and a big gut)?

editing? dont know em--

After their conversation, Silas believed he had gotten through to Kaze about how he didn’t need to pay him back for helping him against that Faceless -- especially since the other man had similarly ended up saving the Nohrian knight not too long after. As far as Silas was aware, they were even and just helping each other out as comrades.

But, on Kaze’s end, wanting to repay the knight for his deeds was just one part of why he was sneakily adding on to the other’s meals. Yes, he was grateful for the rescue, and he took repaying that debt very seriously, but that had been paid back in full by now. No, there was something else that kept Kaze by the silver haired knight’s side, but it wasn’t quite something he knew how to explain, so he let everyone else simply assume that they’d bonded and become good friends.

Which wasn’t wrong, per se, Kaze did actually enjoy Silas’ company. He just...also greatly enjoyed watching the other man eat to the point of being perhaps a little too full.

In Hoshido, especially if one was in the military, such indulgement wasn’t something tolerated. A soldier must be primed for a fight at all times, so while meals were always nourishing and flavorful, there wasn’t often such excess given to those in their station. From what he knew of Nohr, food was not as bountiful as it was in Hoshido, though it was safe to assume that the higher class was given access to the best regardless. Perhaps that was what drove some part of the ninja to give Silas more. Was it not good to give more to those who had been lacking in the same boons as your country’s riches?

But, even that didn’t ring ultimately truthful. At least, not entirely. It, of course, made him feel good to make sure his companions were all taken care of, but there was something else that lurked behind those good intentions. Some morbid interest in watching -- either from close by or afar, both were simple enough to accomplish with his skills in stealth -- another eat and eat, unaware of how much they were stuffing into themselves until something in their brain finally clicked and told them to stop, only it was too late already and they had to stay where they were, bloated and groaning.

It made Kaze flustered and just a little pent up merely thinking about it.

So, he kept up his activities in secret, adding on extras to Silas’ meals and observing -- both going unnoticed..

---

It had been some weeks now since Kaze’s focus on Silas had started. As someone trained to be both extremely observant and incredibly stealthy at the same time, it was a little baffling to see that the knight...had not noticed anything different about his meals. Kaze knew exactly how much he had been adding -- never too much at once, so as to not raise any unnecessary suspicion, slowly giving more and more when it seemed like the other had unknowingly grown accustomed to the portions -- and he was always cautious not to overdo it, but it was still a bit of a surprise that the Nohrian was still so unawares. It wasn’t a bad thing -- certainly not for Kaze -- and it spoke to Silas’ trust and camaraderie with everyone else in Corrin’s army. If it were anything serious, Kaze would be concerned for the knight’s willingness to so easily trust, but it was endearing all the same, and made curiosity gnaw at the back of his mind at how far he could go and still get away with this unnoticed.

Silas’ obliviousness towards what and how much went into his mouth also seemed to extend towards himself. While diligent in his training and duties, he wasn’t very preoccupied with how he looked. He cared where it mattered, of course; he didn’t want to reflect poorly on his dear friend, Corrin, and always looked presentable. But he seemed to have no qualms about himself.

So, where Kaze noticed the way his riding trousers now clung to the curves of his fuller ass, or how his fine shirts pressed cozily against the slight roll of chub that had appeared at his lower belly, Silas seemed perfectly happy not registering that anything was different. And that knowledge only made the heat inside Kaze grow, knowing that this was something of a perfect storm for him. If he weren’t so naturally mild mannered and quiet, Kaze would almost say the thought of what this could turn into made him giddy.

But, it was still early on in this little game, and there was still every chance that it would end when Silas took note of the changes.

---

“Whew, I must be coming down with something, because I just can’t seem to cool off!” Kaze overheard Silas one day, his attention immediately drawn away from his current task.

It was easy enough to fake taking inventory of their supplies to eavesdrop on the knight’s conversation.

“We do have warm summers here in Hoshido, perhaps you are simply not yet used to them, my friend,” came Ryoma’s sure and steady voice, his tone amused.

Kaze darted his gaze over to the two, who must have been finishing up some early morning sparring before the heat of the day got too bad. Prince Ryoma was, indeed, in good spirits; his expression mirthful as he exchanged some more words with Silas. Where there was some color to the prince’s face from the exertion of mock battle, it was clear he was fairing far better than his partner. Silas had at some point forgone his shirt due to the heat, giving Kaze a fantastic chance to get a good look at the effects his additions were having on the other man. The silver haired knight had never been particularly outstanding when it came to muscle mass, but he was at least a little above your average.

But now, where there had just been a small roll of flesh at his middle, there was a rather proper belly blossoming. That little bit of softness had risen like dough into a chubby midsection, still firm from his activities but clearly showing that he’d been getting well-fed lately. Where his belly curved out at the navel, it had the cutest bounce when he moved. It wasn’t anywhere near large enough to knock into his thighs yet, but it did create a nice rolling slab of chub that pinched in at his sides if he moved a certain way. But, Kaze was sure that when the man sat, that soft curve of his lower belly likely had started to brush the plushness of his thighs. His upper body was still fairly defined, though his pecs were rounding out nicely and there were some softer edges coming in on his upper arms and his face.

Well-fed.

That description sent a wave of heat down the back of the ninja’s neck, his unnoticed gaze burning hot as he took in every curve and rounded edge. Silas’ pale skin was flushed a delightful pink, both from the sun and the physical activity of getting in some training. Kaze wondered, vaguely, if he were to grab hold of that soft, pink belly, how would it feel? If he were to caress it gently, would the other even notice? Would he finally see, if he were to squeeze?

No, that would risk ruining the game when it was just picking up.

---

Kaze decided to add another layer to their little game, even if Silas was unaware that they were playing one. It had proven far too easy to keep adding food to the other man’s meals, so on top of constantly making those meals bigger, Kaze began coming up with excuses for giving Silas food in between the usual meal times.

It was easy enough to convince the other man to eat something after training sessions. After such physical strain, it was best to replenish the body with some food, was it not? Silas never seemed to notice that Kaze himself didn’t adhere to this supposed fact, or that the portions of food he was being given were far larger than needed to replace whatever his body had burned through while training. It was a little more difficult to get him to eat when he was out on patrols, as he stated that he wanted to be ready to fight at a moment’s notice if he needed to, but if he were on late night patrols, Kaze could more easily coax him into taking a small break to eat -- especially if he agreed to keep an eye out while the knight dug into his food.

More and more, any free time Silas had seemed to be taken up by food. He was a frequent face at the mess hall, and even when he wasn’t there at meal times, he always conveniently seemed to have food on hand -- and constantly stuffed in his chubby face.

And it was all because of Kaze. He was there, every step of the way, watching and providing and biding his time. As deliciously excruciating as the wait had been, Kaze was ready to claim his prize.

“Hey, Kaze…,” Silas hesitantly broached, his round cheeks flushed red -- from embarrassment, or from huffing and puffing his way through the camp, Kaze could only guess at. “I have a little bit of a problem. Well...Little is probably not the right word--”

Kaze inclined his head, to denote that he was still listening to the knight ramble on, but he would privately admit, he was more focused on accounting for all the new weight that had settled in so well on the Nohrian’s frame.

For the most part, Silas was very well rounded; it gave him a pleasant, overall plush sort of look. His face was cherubic, with round, red cheeks and a softened jawline that dipped into a double chin that looked all too natural on his kind face. It hadn’t taken too long after Kaze had ramped up his feedings for Silas’ upper body to sort of catch up to the rest of him; his upper arms still clung to a slight firmness, but that also might have simply been from how tightly they were squeezed into the sleeves of the shirt he was currently wearing, his now rather hefty looking moobs similarly looking quite confined in his struggling shirt. He hadn’t even bothered -- or couldn’t, a thought that delighted Kaze -- done up the laces at the front, which left some of that pale, fat titfflesh free to jostle for an escape attempt that was truly only hampered by whatever integrity was left of this formerly well-fitting piece of clothing.

Of course, as his eyes traveled lower, it was clear to see that the shirt was...much less of a shirt, and more of a crop top that was just adequate enough to contain his moobs. Because, really, gloriously, Silas’ gut could no longer be contained by something so trivial. His upper belly was round and almost taught -- likely from the large breakfast he’d spent a good two hours shoveling into his hoggish mouth -- becoming a perfect resting shelf for his squishy breasts. While his lower belly, separated from the upper by a swelling roll of fat, hung lower and softer on his expanded frame. It quite easily draped over the other man’s crotch, even while standing, and almost every heavy breath or lumbering movement made it wobble just so. Stretch mark covered love handles fought for room at his sides, perched precariously atop widened hips that had the most luscious curves to them thanks to plentiful food and all of the horse riding that had given him such a nice form to begin with.

His thighs were nothing short of powerfully built, even with the thick layer of lard that now encased them. And, my...his ass really was something to behold; a beautiful bubble butt, straining the ass of his trousers so dearly, Kaze felt like he could almost hear the seams splitting as they stood there.

“--So, do you...do you think you could help?”

The ninja blinked, coming out of his hungered staring to just catch the tail end of whatever Silas had been talking about.

“Yes, of course. I will do my best to aid you, my friend,” he responded swiftly, not even realizing what he was agreeing to until the other man dragged him over to the neatly organized set of his armor.

Oh. Oh, well now, this was better than he could have hoped, really. Silas had recruited him to do what he’d been desiring for months now.

“I’d do it myself, of course, but...uh, I’ve been having some recent trouble reaching around to some of the straps and buckles,” Silas chuckled nervously, his already flushed face seeming to go a deeper red at this admission.

Ah, so he’d finally noticed just how large his eating habits had made him? Fascinating that it had taken so long, but denial could be a powerful thing.

“It’s not a problem,” Kaze assured in a smooth tone of voice, waiting for Silas to start attempting to put on his armor. The breastplate and backplate came together via leather straps at the shoulders and sides, tightened and held in place by rather standard looking buckles. As Silas held the plate armor in place, Kaze tried to secure the straps. And, truly, he did try -- where was the fun if he didn’t get to see what an absolute mess the other man had made of himself with his lack of control, aided by his own pampering and spoiling with food and treats aplenty? He tugged on the straps as hard as he could, smiling softly to himself at the little noises Silas’ tried to stifle at the jostling and how the knuckles of his fingers couldn’t escape grazing or sinking into the warm flesh of the knight’s sides. If he pulled both sides tight enough, he could get the straps to touch, but nowhere near close enough to actually secure them with the buckle.

Kaze couldn’t resist pinching at the silver haired man’s love handles, apologizing and excusing it off as the metal from the buckle catching him by accident.

“It’s no use, is it…?” Silas sighed, cheeks puffing out just a little more from the simple act.

Kaze gave him a sympathetic look as he helped him remove the much outgrown piece of armor, his hand coming to pat the other on the back. “We can always get you refitted. It might have a slightly different style, but our blacksmiths are quite skilled; I’m sure they could replicate it to your tastes, if you so wish.”

The Nohrian seemed about to say something else, but Kaze chose now to make his kill, as it were. His tone and demeanor not shifting from gentle and comradely, he very brazenly brought a gloved hand to the other’s stomach, his thumb hooking easily into Silas’ navel as he grabbed a handful of chub and gave him an exploratory squeeze. It was just as soft as he’d imagined, but there was a firm layer to it too, if he dug his fingers in hard enough, that he found to be quite pleasant. A nice balance.

Humming softly to himself, Kaze continued his tactile exploration while urging them both forward in the direction of the mess hall. “I would greatly desire to see how long it would take you to outgrow a larger set of armor…”

If Silas could keep from giving in to Kaze’s offerings of food long enough to even have another set made before he ate his way out of it, that is.

Silas, sputtering and doing his best to keep up with the revelation, didn’t object to the idea nor did he fight against where Kaze was leading him.

[alitaimagines]

“baby, you’re like lightning in a bottle, I can’t let you go now that I got it and all I need is to be struck by your electric love. baby your electric love. drown me, you make my heart beat like the rain. surround me, hold me deep beneath your waves.”

        ☆ TODOROKI SHOUTO - MY HERO ACADEMIA 

        ☆ note: I just realized the last few things I’ve written been so angsty so here so here is a fluffy blurb. I feel like I could expand on this imagine so look out for a part two on this.

        ☆ previous imagine: ♡ ☆ masterlist: ♡

Todoroki hadn’t realized that he was staring off into space until he heard Momo’s voice speak up.

“Todoroki, that’s so cute,” Momo whispered as Todoroki tried to hide his blush, “you have a crush on her! you should totally make the first move!” Mina practically yelled. 

“guys, if he truly likes her, he’ll do it on his own time. don’t peer pressure him!” Iida lectured the two girls, “yeah, I think Iida has a point,” Midoriya added on as the girls sighed. 

you were standing with Kirishima, Jirou, and Kaminari, as you downed an entire packet of sour patch kids before morning training started. both Kirishima and Jirou gave you concerning looks as Kaminari drank his hot chocolate, not really caring about what was happening.

“dude, it’s seven thirty in the morning and you’re eating that like it’s your breakfast,” Jirou said with judgemental eyes, “it is my breakfast, leave me alone,” you responded as Kaminari took a few out of the bag for himself. 

Todoroki watched you give him a back hand to the chest, “keep your hands off my breakfast. that’s also my lunch!” you exclaimed as Kirishima gave you another look of concern, “can I ask why that’s your lunch? you know we get our lunch for free, right?” 

you laughed as you popped another Sour Patch Kid in your mouth, “because I’m tired of school food and this is what’s going to hold me over until I convince my mom to bring me some,” you mumbled through the candy. 

Jirou and Kirishima sighed at your stupidity as Kaminari agreed. Todoroki on the other hand couldn’t help but overhear the conversation and knew exactly what he was going to do. 

“God, it’s so fucking cold out,” you complained as you wrapped your jacket closer to you in order to gain anymore warmth out of it, “I don’t understand why they make us train in these temperatures. we’re going to freeze to death one day,” you complained. 

you couldn’t continue to complain as Aizawa walked into the field and told everyone to find a partner to spar with. you noticed everyone immediately paired up with the closest person they were with which left you having to train with Bakugou. 

“oh Katsuki!” you exclaimed as you saw him physically sigh, “don’t be upset that you’re stuck with me! think of it as a blessing!” you joked as the blond immediately started to curse you out. 

once Aizawa gave everyone the signal to start sparring with each other, you and Bakugou immediately darted to each other as he let out a lengthy amount of explosions which you quickly dodged before sliding under his legs to flip him. 

you managed to get a grasp of his leg as he tried to grab your arm but he was too late. you locked in your grasp and slammed him against the ground as the class stared at you in disbelief. 

“holy shit, Bakugou, I just flipped you without even trying,” you taunted as he got up in anger and went to attack you again, “tch, you’re going to have to catch me to get revenge on me!” you screamed as you instantly started to run in the opposite direction.

“GET BACK HERE YOU STUPID EXTRA!” he yelled while chasing you, “that’s enough. since neither of you are taking this seriously, Todoroki, take Bakugou’s place and Bakugou, you can spar with Yaoyorozu until training is done,” Aizawa interjected. 

you sighed before you started to walk over to Todoroki, “hey, Momo! good luck with Katsuki. he’s pretty weak today so I’m sure you can win a few rounds,” you teased Bakugou again as he was immediately held back by Kirishima.

Todoroki couldn’t help but chuckle at the death wish you were basically signing for yourself.

“hey Shouto!” you greeted the half-n-half boy, “you good to go?” you asked as he gave you a simple nod. 

Todoroki wondered why weren’t you as playful with him as you were around Kirishima, Bakugou, or even Kaminari. he knew he could come off as a bit cold or standoffish sometimes but your vibrant personality could usually kick anyone up a few notches. 

the two of you remained sparring for a while before Aizawa called it quits for the day. as you finally stepped away, you wiped the sweat off your forehead before looking at Todoroki. 

“I really got to give it to you,” you wheezed as you tried to regain your breath, “you really know how to fight. I really would have hated to be Bakugou at the sports festival.” 

Todoroki tried to hide the blush that was spreading on his face, “but maybe I should have taken Jirou’s advice and not eaten candy for breakfast. I have such low energy right now, I feel like I could eat a cow right now,” you said as Todoroki looked through his school bag until he found the energy bar he was planning on saving for himself. 

“here, have this,” Todoroki told you as he handed you the granola bar, “you shouldn’t go hungry for the rest of the morning. it’s not healthy,” he said, almost in a reprimanding tone of voice. 

you laughed before giving him a playful hug, “aw, Shouto! you care about my health!” you joked before ripping the package with your teeth, “what’s next? buying my lunch?” you asked. 

Todoroki gave you a look, “I heard you say that you were going to have that candy for lunch so you can have some of the cold soba I packed for lunch,” you put your hand to your chest and thought of how good your lunch was going to be now. 

“it’s like you’re my mom!” you joked as he shrugged, “if I need to act like it, I will. someone needs to make sure you’re eating properly.” 

this time you gave him an offended look, “I eat properly! last night I had an actual dinner plus, I had the hot chocolate that U.A. was offering after it!” you tried to defend yourself, “sure you did,” Todoroki muttered as the two of you finally entered the class. 

Mina and Momo gave each other looks as you sat in front of Todoroki and continued to talk to him until Midnight arrived for her class. they could tell that Todoroki was a lot more talkative around you and that made their hearts flutter for you. 

they knew Todoroki wasn’t an open book so to see their most closed off classmate not only talking but pursuing his crush made them feel fuzzy inside.

the good thing about all of this was that Todoroki was your desk neighbor. you sat directly behind him so every so often. you would pass him a note with a funny drawing of one of your classmates or pass him a candy that you had inside of you backpack. 

“look! look!” Mina whispered to Momo, “they’re already sharing sweets! I didn’t think Todoroki would act on his crush so quickly,” she said as Momo watched as Todoroki discreetly popped a chocolate into his mouth. 

“yeah, I didn’t expect to see him do it so quickly but what Todoroki wants, he gets so it shouldn’t be too surprising.” 

Mina agreed before they heard Midnight clear her throat so they could get back to paying attention to the lecture. 

once the bell went off indicating it was time for the first years to get their lunch, Todoroki pulled out the cold soba before shoving two desks together and putting it in front of the both of you. 

“oh my goodness! you weren’t lying when you said you made a lot of soba,” you stared down at the copious amount of soba he had in his soup container, “but don’t mind if I do!” you giggled before grabbing the utensils and digging into the soba. 

Momo and Mina peeked their heads from outside of the classroom as they watched you and Todoroki eat the soba together. there was a few times where you would say something that would make him laugh. 

their little viewing party got interrupted when Mina received a message from Todoroki. 

“buy ( your name ) her favorite hot chocolate and I’ll pay you back after class. don’t say anything to anyone.”

Mina showed Momo the text as she smiled, “well, let’s go! we shouldn’t be late for class and I have an idea to show ( your name ) that Todoroki likes her!” she exclaimed as the two of them ran off in the direction of the lunch room.

ALITA

[tenshiscientia]

This is part of a story that I'm writing, but it's going to be a long ass time before I can get the full thing posted on here, so I thought I'd put a tease of a fight scene out. (Due to this being a dream of one of the characters, certain people are TOTALLY NOT acting like they should be.) Also a number of trigger warnings. Character death, mention of torture, violence, slightly graphic violence (we're gonna call this R rated peeps)

Also imo I suck at fight scenes, but hey read at your own risk!

Genesis opened his eyes to find himself in a large, well lit room. His azure eyes scanned around and noted Hojo standing in front of several people talking to them. 

'That's not right, Hojo's dead...' he thought to himself.

He then realized who he was talking to. It was his two best friends Angeal and Sephiroth, along with Zack. Although there were others Genesis didn't know, but they all had silver hair just like Sephiroth. Perhaps they were related to him in some way...

'No that's not possible, Sephiroth has no family relations. He's all alone.' Genesis told himself.

Hojo turned around and noticed Genesis.

"Well, well, Rhapsodos. It's so nice of you to join us. We all were waiting for you, weren't we, gentlemen?" Hojo sneered at him.

"Angeal, Sephiroth, Zack...why are you working with him?" Genesis asked, greatly confused.

Hojo laughed a high, annoying, nasally laugh.

"They've told me that they are tired of your constant complaining, and I told them that I could help stop that. By the way what do you think of my newest creations?" Hojo asked, waving his hand at the three silver haired boys.

Genesis looked over at them. The youngest looked at him and flicked some hair out from in front of his eyes.

"Names Kadaj." he said flatly, then looked away, obviously bored.

The second oldest turned around from playing with something and flicked shoulder-blade length silver hair over his black clad shoulder.

"Yazoo." he purred silkily.

The oldest and most burly looked up from sitting on the floor and chuckled deeply.

"Loz." was all he said.

Hojo cackled madly.

"Very good. You see Rhapsodos, to come up with these creations of mine, I had to do a lot of work. Genetically modifying cells to match and become compatible with a certain others. For you see, these creations are clones of Sephiroth!" he said triumphantly, madness glittering in his eyes.

A shocked look firmly settled itself into place on Genesis' face as he looked over at Sephiroth.

"Sephiroth, why did you let him do that to you? I know for a fact you would never willingly allow that to happen. Did he drug you to coerce you into allowing him to do it?" Genesis asked, appalled at what he had just heard.

"No drugs, Genesis..." Sephiroth replied, "...I've always wanted a sparring partner that could challenge me. And while you and Angeal do push me slightly, it's not enough. So Hojo told me that he could create a sparring partner that would keep me working if I helped him. And low and behold, he delivers three sparring partners that can keep me busy when we spar."

Hurt crossed Genesis' face as he heard those words.

"Poor Rhapsodos. No longer needed. But wait! She might need you..." Hojo cackled, gesturing over to where Yazoo was standing.

The young teen looked over his shoulder then stepped to the side, revealing someone chained up, hanging against the wall. Taking a better look at the person, he realized who it was.

"Ami!" he yelled, then rounded on back on Hojo, "Why do you have her chained up like that?"

Yazoo laughed and Genesis' attention was drawn back to him and Amaterasu. Taking better notice of Amaterasu's state, he realized her clothes were shredded and barely hanging on her body. She was also riddled with cuts and horrible bruises. They had obviously been torturing her. Her usual bright auburn hair was dark with the blood that saturated it.

Yazoo moved back over to Amaterasu and lifted her head so Genesis could see her face and he noted that not even that had been spared from the beatings. Then with sadistic pleasure on his face, Yazoo wrenched Amaterasu's head towards him and crashed his lips hard against hers in a brutal kiss. Amaterasu didn't fight against him, didn't move at all, as if she had given up on getting away. Yazoo pulled away from Amaterasu with satisfaction plastered on his face. Sephiroth looked up from his place a little ways away and smiled.

"Excellent Yazoo. She's not fighting back anymore. You've finally broken her spirit. Very impressive." he laughed.

Yazoo smiled and threw a "thank you" in his direction. Hot rage coursed through Genesis' veins and he called Rapier to his hand and flew forward at all of them. Suddenly, there was a loud crack, and Genesis stopped in his tracks, a bullet hole where his next footstep would have been. Genesis studied the bullet in the ground for a second then looked up to see where it had come from. He noticed the one named Yazoo with a gun in his hand.

Yazoo waved the gun back and forth in the air carelessly for a moment, teasing Genesis. Then he lowered the gun to the side of Amaterasu's head.

"Now if I were you, Rhapsodos, I wouldn't come any closer, or I'll blow her brains out all over the wall." he threatened.

Genesis held his ground and glared at Yazoo. Everyone else laughed at him. Zack then decided to come forward and fight him.

"If you can beat me, You will be one step closer to saving Amaterasu. Although it's not like you''re going to make it." he said, raising the training sword all SOLDIERs were given when they joined, in a threatening manner.

"I don't want to fight you, Zack. We don't need to fight." Genesis replied.

Zack laughed, "Oh yes we do!"

He then charged at Genesis his sword held high, and brought it down in a overhead strike. Genesis brought up Rapier to block it, then kicked Zack in the stomach, sending him flying backwards. Genesis perused him, but Zack was back up onto his feet in seconds and met Genesis' strike and tried to sweep Genesis' feet out from under him by dropping to the ground and swiping his leg towards Genesis' feet. Genesis saw what he was doing and jumped over his leg and landed. Zack used the momentum to spin himself back up so he was standing again.

He brought his sword up in the air in a lower slash and Genesis leaned backwards to avoid it and charged a fireball in his hand. Releasing it, the fireball engulfed Zack's hand and he quickly dropped his sword with a loud cry. Genesis saw his opening and even though he didn't want to do it, he knew he had to. Genesis lunged forward and slashed his sword, and a large gash appeared in Zack's throat. Zack's eyes grew wide as the burn on his hand was forgotten and his hands rose to his throat.

He tried in vain to stem the bleeding, but it was no use and he quickly bled out, the life leaving his eyes as his body bonelessly hit the ground. Genesis slowly walked to him and kneeled down. He ran his hand over Zack's face, gently closing his wide open eyes before picking the boy up and walking him over to the wall far away from the others. Gently propping him up against the wall, Genesis ruffled his black spikes softly.

"Sorry, pup..." he whispered softly, "...I didn't want to do it, but you left me little choice, I have to save Amaterasu..."

Sea foam green swirls began to surround Zack's body.

"May the Goddess keep you safe pup..." Genesis whispered softly.

He watched Zack's body disappear and noticed a single tear run down the boys cheek just before he fully disappeared. The hand not holding Rapier clenched into a fist. That boy still had so much more to live for, so much more of a life to live. And he had been forced to cut it short. Genesis stood and turned back to the others.

Angeal stood and gave a large stretch, before reaching over beside him and picking up the large and heavy Buster sword. Propping it on his shoulder, he walked out in front of the others and raised his hand palm up then made a "come here" sign with two of his finger. That has always been the motion that he and Genesis had used to mark the start of their fights. However Genesis did not return the gesture and charge toward him. He simply shook his head and lowered Rapier, showing he wasn't going to fight him.

Angeal made a annoyed noise, then chuckled darkly, "Fine, if you won't come for me, then I'll come for you."

He shot forward, surprisingly fast and agile for a man of his size and stature as well as the weapon he carried with him. Once Angeal reached Genesis, he brought the Buster sword up over his head, like it weighed no more than a feather, and brought it down hard. Not wanting to face the brute force and power behind that attack, Genesis dodged to the side, quickly dancing out of the way of the heavy blade.

"Angeal, stop this. I don't want to fight you. I need your help to get Ami out of here. Hojo has poisoned Sephiroth's mind. I know I killed the puppy, and I'm sorry about that. But he gave me no choice. Hojo must have poisoned his mind too..." Genesis dove onto the ground and rolled to the left then back up onto his feet.

"Zackery doesn't matter to me. If he was a true SOLDIER, he would have been able to hold his own against you. He was 1st class material, he just hadn't been promoted or gotten the Mako yet. He's better off dead." Angeal growled, making another slash at Genesis.

This one Genesis blocked. It was one thing to say that a SOLDIER was weak or inexperienced. But to say they were better off dead because of that inexperience was unacceptable. This was not his friend Angeal, and Genesis knew that now. He no longer had any qualms about fighting him.

Pulling Rapier back, he lashed it forward with as much power as he could. Angeal was not expecting the strength of the retaliation and was momentarily stunned. After stumbling back a couple of steps, he grinned and lept back into the battle. He swung the Buster sword at Genesis' stomach, and Genesis launched himself into the air, landed with his hand firmly on the Buster sword, then launched himself even higher. As he came down, Genesis swung Rapier in a two handed strike and Angeal's head was cut cleanly from his shoulders.

Genesis landed in a crouch on the ground and not a second later, Angeal's head landed behind him. Genesis turned and looked at the head.

"You always spoke of honor, dreams, and pride Angeal. It was Zack's dream to become a 1st like his mentor, like you. And you always spoke of him with such pride because he was your best student. But then you go and dishonor him by saying that he was so weak that he was better off dead. Where is your honor, Angeal?

I certainly don't see it. Zack was a hard working young man. Yes, he had a bad tendency to get in trouble and play some bad pranks. But when Ami entered into our lives, he took top her like an older brother would to a sister. She never would have been able to learn how to get around the halls of the ShinRa building without him. Don't you remember.

She's been working hard and he asked to help out and that's what she wanted help with. Zack was an honorable young man, and you threw that away along with his life." he hissed.

There was clapping from over where Amaterasu was chained and Genesis looked there. Sephiroth was clapping his gloved hands together with a mocking smile on his face.

"A beautiful speech Genesis. Too bad he couldn't hear it. You already killed him and he's halfway to the Life Stream now." he laughed, pointing at Angeal's body.

Genesis looked down at where Angeal's body was to see the last swirls of sea foam fading away.

"Shut it Sephiroth. You have no more honor than he did..." Genesis snapped, his gaze locking on him once more.

"Oh, ho, so now you're the one preaching about honor. Please, spare me. I don't need a lesson in honor from you." Sephiroth chuckled.

"Maybe you do, considering you're letting Hojo control you. All because of the promise for a better sparring partner. You know you could have asked me to try and push you harder. How do you know that I haven't holding back. That I don't have something that could have challenged you more?" Genesis spat back.

Sephiroth shook his head as he pushed off the wall and summoned Masumune to his hand.

"I know you Genesis. I know how you fight. You always go all out and you never hold back. That's why I know you haven't been holding back." Sephiroth practically grinned, "Now come and let me kill you so that I can start sparring with some actual adversaries."

Sephiroth raised Masumune over his left shoulder and darted forward. Genesis barely blocked the thrust, then twirled to the side.

'Sephiroth is faster than he normally is. Did Hojo give him something to help him fight?' Genesis asked himself, blocking another stab from Masumune.

Dashing to the left, he tried to get behind Sephiroth to attack him, but at the last second, Sephiroth spun around and blocked the attack and launched one of his own. Genesis dodged to the side, but was unable to fully get away from the attack. He lifted his hand to his upper arm and checked it. The leather had been split open and a line of blood rested just under the cut leather.

"First blood Genesis, just like always." Sephiroth laughed.

Genesis just glared at him darkly.

"My coat, you ass!" Genesis hissed.

"Oh so what, your precious leather duster got a cut in it. Whatever shall we do?" Sephiroth taunted him, trying to get him to lose his cool.

A warrior who doesn't keep their cool while they fight will make mistakes, and mistakes can cost a warrior their life. Genesis realized what Sephiroth was trying to do and pushed the fact that that his duster got cut out of his mind. His first priority was to defeat and kill Sephiroth, as it seemed it was the only way to win. Then to get past Sephiroth's three clones. Then get past Hojo.

Then get Ami and himself out of here. Turning his thoughts back to Sephiroth, he twisted away just before Masumune would have sliced into his throat. Dropping down, Genesis kicked Sephiroth in the stomach, then rolled backwards as Masumune stabbed down where he had just been crouching. Stumbling a little from the momentum he created he created when he rolled backwards, Genesis made it back to his feet and slashed at Sephiroth. A chunk of silver hair fluttered to the ground between them as Genesis pulled Rapier back.

Sephiroth reached up and fingered the shortened the chunk of hair then glared at Genesis.

"Low blow, Genesis, low blow." he growled at him.

"Aw, the Great Silver Demon of Wutai lost a piece of his precious, pretty silver hair! Oh no, the world is going to end!" Genesis mocked him, trying to use the same tactic Sephiroth had used on him.

It seemed to work as Sephiroth let out a yell and charged him. Dodging nimbly out of the way, Genesis smiled at the job he had done. It was Sephiroth himself that always said to keep a level head in battle. However, when it came to Sephiroth's hair, everything went out the door. Sephiroth was not a vain man by any means, but his hair meant a lot to him.

It was his only way to rebel against the control that Hojo had over him. Genesis dodged another sloppy lunge from Sephiroth. This time, Genesis stuck his foot out and tripped Sephiroth as he went by. Sephiroth's foot caught Genesis' and he went down face first into the floor, his hair fanning out around him. Genesis knew better than to laugh at him.

Sephiroth was well enough pissed as it was, he didn't need to do anything more. He prepared himself for Sephiroth's next attack. Genesis knew when Sephiroth became angry he also fought irrationally. Sephiroth levered himself off the floor and turned to face Genesis.

"You're going to regret that!" he growled raising Masumune again and charging him once more.

Sephiroth must have been beyond furious to have left the openings that Genesis noticed. He charged a powerful fireball, considering Sephiroth had a high tolerance to magic and fired it at his right hip. Masumune dipped down to block it and diffuse it and then Rapier lashed out and the right shoulder guard to Sephiroth's coat was missing and he had a deep gash in that shoulder, rendering that arm useless. Sephiroth jumped back away from the battle hissing and holding his shoulder.

"Nice hit, Rhapsodos. It's been a while since anyone has been able to wound me. Maybe you are a bit more of a challenge than I thought you were." he laughed.

Genesis gave a hollow laugh.

"I told you that I've been holding back. I didn't want to truly hurt you or Angeal, so I've been stopping myself." he said.

Sephiroth released his shoulder.

"Well then, no more holding back. Doesn't matter that I've been injured. Come at me full force. Even if it kills me, Rhapsodos. I want to see what you're made of. What you can really do." Sephiroth laughed loudly.

Genesis hung his head and whispered something.

"What was that, Rhapsodos?" Sephiroth asked.

"I said, if I do that then I'll end up killing you. But it seems I have no choice. If I want to get Ami out of here, I have to get rid of all of you..." Genesis clarified, "...Then so be it. I'll kill all of you. Even if it means Ami might not be happy with me for it. At least she'll be out of here and away from Hojo's clutches once more. She'll be free once more, like she deserves to be."

Genesis brought Rapier up in front of him so that the blade was flat in front of his face, the blue piece of Materia even with his eyes.

"I'm sorry Sephiroth..." he whispered.

Lowering the blade, he charged forward. Sephiroth readied himself for the coming assault, but just as Genesis reached him and Sephiroth brought Masumune down on his head, Genesis disappeared, leaving only his leather duster behind. Sephiroth looked around in confusion, trying to figure out where Genesis had gone. Turning around, Sephiroth was about to call out a taunt when Genesis appeared in front of him. Genesis grabbed the hilt of Masumune and yanked it out of Sephiroth's hands.

This put him off balance, pitching him forward. Genesis dropped Masumune and slashed with Rapier. Blood sprayed on the ground in front of him from Sephiroth's throat. Genesis sent Rapier away and caught Sephiroth as he fell. He gently turned Sephiroth over on his back and laid him on the ground.

Genesis watched the light leave Sephiroth's eyes, then the sea foam green swirls encase his body till nothing was left.

"Sorry Seph. It had to be done. You're my best friend, but I will do anything I have to to keep Ami safe. And if my friends turn against me and force me to fight them. Then I will cut them down to get to her." he whispered softly.

Genesis heard a scoff from the corner of the room. Genesis stood up and spun around, his eyes zeroing in on where the scoff had come from. It had been Kadaj.

"You think this is funny, you brat? Funny that I've been forced to kill the only friends I've had all my life. Sure, I said I had to do it, but that doesn't mean that I liked it. Those three men are all I've had since I joined SOLDIER. More like my family than the actual family I had back where I come from." he yelled.

Kadaj stood and scoffed again.

"Like I care. I never had any family except for my two older brothers. And even then, we're not that close. Who cares that you had to kill those guys. The point is that you're still alive.

That is the only point of battle. It doesn't matter who your opponent is so long as you defeat and kill them. That is all that matters in battle. Who cares if they're your friends or family. They are your enemy and need to be destroyed." the young man proclaimed, walking forward.

Hot anger coursed through Genesis' veins, but he forced it down. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes.

"I'm fighting you now, right? Then get your ass out here and lets fight. I'm tired of you already, and I don't want to hear any more of your mouth." Genesis snapped.

Kadaj gave a sharp laugh then reached behind him.

"Fine but remember, you asked for it."

Pulling out a double-bladed katana, he held it so the blade was facing backwards. Genesis studied how the boy held his weapon and figured out a plan to take him down. With how young he was, there was no way that he had properly mastered how to wield his blade in the way he was holding it. Kadaj shot forward and swung his katana swiftly. Genesis was not ready for the speed that the boy had.

Though he shouldn't have been surprised, seeing as how small the boy was. Genesis brought Rapier up to block the attack and was immediately assaulted with a second attack. Kadaj pushed away a little and kicked Genesis in the stomach, sending him flying back into the wall far across the other side of the room. Kadaj followed quickly with another strike and Genesis was barely able to bring Rapier up to block it. He then activated a piece of Materia and directed a gust of wind at Kadaj blowing him away from him and back across the room.

Kadaj landed on the ground a few meters away and cracked his head against it. It stunned him for the precious few seconds that Genesis needed to right himself and send a fireball in Kadaj' direction. As Genesis launched himself behind the fireball, the fireball was extinguished in front of him and Kadaj' katana was being slashed in front of his face.

Rapier came up and blocked the slash, but Genesis felt a small boot plant itself firmly in his sternum and kick upwards, knocking the air out of him. Genesis swung an arm down and wrapped it around the foot and twisted as he gasped for air. There was a sicking crack and Genesis let go of the boys foot. That was assuredly a broken ankle if not a leg. It was a step in the right direction to getting rid of the boy.

Genesis rolled to the side, trying to get air back into his lungs as he watched Kadaj clutch at his leg.

'It's a start.' Genesis thought to himself.

As Genesis was finally able to get air back into his lungs and stand up, Kadaj was able to stand up on his uninjured leg as well.

"That was a dirty trick, Rhapsodos." he hissed.

Genesis shrugged.

"Sephiroth always taught his SOLDIERs that nothing is a "dirty trick" when you are trying to survive. You best be ready for worse than that if you keep fighting me." Genesis sighed.

Kadaj growled loudly and threw his sword at Genesis. He easily dodged it and followed it as it lodged itself into the wall. Genesis stared at it for a moment then slowly looked back at Kadaj.

"Is this you surrendering to me or what?" he asked.

Kadaj just looked at the ground and closed his eyes, then looked back up at him with a glare that rivaled Sephiroth's.

"Never!" he yelled, launching himself forward on his one good leg.

Genesis swiftly moved out of the way. Kadaj' hands hit the wall to stop himself, then he pulled his katana out of the wall then turned to face Genesis.

"I never surrender!" he cried, launching himself forward again.

His blade clashed with Genesis' and even though Kadaj had a broken leg, there was still power behind his strike. Genesis shoved him back again and Kadaj stumbled back onto his broken leg. It collapsed under his weight, and Kadaj dropped his katana and held onto his knee. Seeing the only chance he knew he would get with this kid, he charged a powerful fireball and launched it at him. The flames engulfed him and Kadaj cried out.

Before Kadaj could do anything to defend himself, Genesis shot forward and lashed out with Rapier. Mint green eyes shot open wide as their owners head flew off its shoulders and landed on the ground. Kadaj' head rolled away as Genesis watched it. It was sad. Another young life lost before it was properly lived.

Didn't matter that the boy had been in Hojo's clutches. If he had been freed from Hojo, Kadaj probably could have learned so much, and may have had a different outlook on life. But now was not the time to be worried about that anymore. The silverette named Loz stood up in a rage, trying to stifle a couple of sobs as a few tears streaked down his face.

"H-how dare you kill my b-brother. We m-may not have been very close, b-but he was still my brother, you big meanie!" he yelled, pulling out his weapon, which looked to be a fancy arm shield of some sort.

Genesis took a step back from this show of emotion. All of the others hadn't cared one shit about what happened to the one before them. Where was this show of anger and concern for his so called "brother" coming from. However, Genesis couldn't concentrate on that. He had to get to Amaterasu.

There was only this teen, the gunner named Yazoo, and Hojo in his way. He was so close!

"It seems strange that you would care about your so called "brother", but it doesn't matter to me. You are all in my way of getting to Ami, that includes you Hojo." Genesis yelled, pointing Rapier at Hojo threateningly, "And I will slay you all to get to her if I have to."

Loz' stance wavered a little then strengthened once more.

"You won't kill me Rhapsodos!" he yelled, all signs of the previous tears gone.

Loz shot forward, leaving traces of blue light in his wake. Before Genesis knew it, Loz was in front of him. He let lose with a sharp, swift punch to the ground. The ground underneath his fist cracked and broke, sending huge pieces of it flying up into the air, along with Genesis. This surprised him for a moment but he quickly righted himself and began to lightly jump from rock to rock to rock, flitting back and forth almost like he was a butterfly, his foot never touching the rock for more than a second until he reached the ground.

Genesis had to admit, that move was impressive. However, right after Genesis had landed, Loz was right on top of him with another devastating punch to the ground, once again sending chunks of the ground flying up into the air. This time as Genesis tried to make his way back to the ground, Loz met him in mid air and tried to land a hit. Thanks to quick reflexes on Genesis' part, he missed. Landing on the ground again, Genesis turned and charged a fireball and searched for Loz but he was no where to be found.

Suddenly a falling piece of the floor in front of him shattered and Loz came flying at him through the debris and cloud of dust that was left. Genesis did the first thing that his body thought of: launch the fireball. Loz lifted his arm and the contraption on it flared to life and electricity appeared around it. The fireball hit it and fought with the electricity for a second then the fireball was redirected and smashed into the wall across on the other side of the room. Shock was clearly written all over Genesis' face.

Loz grinned, "Do you like Duel Hound's power. Your magic is useless against me Rhapsodos."

Genesis looked down at his bangle. Almost all of the Materia in his bangle were magic Materia. He only had a few pieces that weren't. Genesis then looked down at Rapier. His sword mostly relied on magic to do its heaviest amount of damage.

Genesis, shrugged, he would be at a huge disadvantage this way, but if he couldn't win with magic, he would use brute force. Genesis sent Rapier away and slammed a fist into an open palm.

"Well..." Genesis grimaced, "...if I can't use my magic, then I guess it's hand to hand combat. I'm not very good at this and considering your size, I'll be at a disadvantage, but I used to hand to hand spar with both Sephiroth and Angeal. I don't think fighting with you will be too different from fighting Angeal, but I know you won't give me the chance to recover if you get a good hit in. Though you must realize, the same goes for you. I'm not going to hold back on your ass.

You will go down."

Loz laughed as he cracked his knuckles then pulled off Duel Hound.

"Well Rhapsodos, I didn't think you had the balls to throw away your precious magic. After all, you depend on it so much. Oh well, if you say you've done hand to hand before, this should be interesting. But realize this, by the end of this fight, you'll be in a ShinRa body bag, headed back to your hometown for your parents to cry over your dead body. Or perhaps Hojo will take your body and make it useful, stranger things have happened in that lab of his." Loz sneered.

Genesis just shook his head and fell into his favorite hand to hand fighting stance.

"Let's just get this over with." he hissed.

"My pleasure." replied Loz, launching himself forward.

Loz made the first offensive move to hit Genesis' shoulder and Genesis brought up his hand and simply guided it away lashing in with his other hand and striking Loz squarely in the chest. The air was forced out of Loz' lungs and he stumbled back. Genesis didn't give him a chance to recover and shot forward to hit Loz in the shoulder. There was a loud pop and Loz cried out. He jumped back and away from Genesis holding his shoulder and glaring at him.

Tenderly feeling his shoulder, Loz pulled on his lower arm sharply, and there was another loud pop.

"Damn, one hit and you dislocated my shoulder. And you said you weren't good at this. I call bull shit, Rhapsodos." Loz huffed, still holding his arm and gently massaging it.

"I never said how good I was. It's just my opinion that I'm not very good. Others have told me I'm good. Now can we continue?" Genesis shrugged.

Launching himself forward, Genesis swung a kick at Loz' chest, but Loz caught his foot. Loz was about to twist his foot to break Genesis' leg, when Genesis swung his other leg up and scored a kick across the side of Loz' head. Managing to land from the kick, Genesis crouched down and swung his leg out again connecting with Loz' knee. There was a loud crack, and Genesis knew that leg was now useless.

If he could do the same thing to the other leg, Loz wouldn't be able to fight anymore. Loz lurched up on his one good leg and swung a fist at Genesis' face and Genesis leaned back to avoid it then grabbed his forearm and yanked him forward. Dodging around him so that Loz was in front of him, Genesis wrapped one arm around Loz' throat and used his other hand to grip Loz' chin.

"Never had to use this move on someone, and I don't like it, not my style. But to get rid of you, I'll use it." Genesis growled in Loz' ear.

Genesis pulled with his hands and Loz' head snapped to the side severing his spinal cord. Genesis opened his arms and allowed Loz' body to fall away from his own.

"Sorry man..." Genesis whispered, another life cut short in his eyes.

Genesis then turned and looked at what seemed to be the only threat left. He didn't see Hojo as a threat.

"You're the last one left. I suggest you give up and spare yourself from being killed." Genesis hissed at Yazoo.

Yazoo took a step back and closer to Amaterasu. Genesis knew that movement. That was wariness and a desire to keep what doesn't belong to you. Yazoo looked over to Hojo and Hojo became irate.

"You lose that girl you rat, and I'll kill you, not him!" he screeched.

Yazoo paled and looked back over at Amaterasu. Then confidence poured itself back into his body and he gave one last sneer at Amaterasu and lifted her face for one last kiss, before sauntering forward. Yazoo raised his gun and took aim at Genesis. He took three quick shots then flashed out of sight. There were three high pitched pings as the bullets were deflected off of Rapier, which had been re-summoned after the battle with Loz, and Genesis tracked Yazoo as he ran.

Yazoo was fast, however he was not as fast as Sephiroth so he was having an easy time tracking him. Yazoo fired off two more bullets before leaping in the air over Genesis and firing off four more. Genesis blocked all six and waited for Yazoo to land. Once he did, Genesis charged him and lashed out with Rapier. Yazoo ducked under Rapier, came up and kicked Genesis in the chest hard.

However just before the kick hit, Genesis threw up a shield which reduced some of the impact but he was still sent flying back. Flipping backwards, Genesis touching his hand to the ground to slow himself down, then regained his footing.

Two bullets came flying Genesis' way and he ducked under them, not bothering to block them with Rapier. Raising Rapier to eye level, Genesis ran his hand down it, activating the runes on it.

With the red runes glowing on it like molten fire, Genesis shot forward and before Yazoo could react, his gun was cut to pieces and rendered useless.

Yazoo leapt back, putting some distance between them.

"Damn it, Rhapsodos! You destroyed my Velvet Nightmare!" he yelled.

Genesis shrugged.

"So does that mean this fight is over? Probably not, but I can always hope." Genesis asked.

"Far from it!" Yazoo yelled, sinking into a fighting stance. '

Damn it, I don't have time for this. I have to get to Ami.' Genesis thought to himself.

He sighed then raised Rapier.

"Sorry 'bout this..." he whispered.

Disappearing seemingly into thin air, Genesis reappeared behind Yazoo with his sword to his throat, "...But you never should have touched Ami..." he hissed in Yazoo's ear dangerously, "...You never should have touched what is mine."

Pulling Rapier back sharply, the razor sharp edge of the sword slashed into Yazoo's throat and sliced it open. Blood sprayed out of the fatal wound as Yazoo fell to the ground, however Genesis felt no remorse for this kill. Yazoo had touched Amaterasu, and only he was allowed to do that. Genesis almost felt a sort of sick satisfaction as he watched the blood pour from Yazoo's throat.

'He deserved it...' he told himself.

Genesis then turned his attention to Hojo. As soon as Yazoo had been killed, Hojo had started to back away from Amaterasu, realizing there was no one to protect him from Genesis anymore. Dark hatred fueled Genesis on as he approached Hojo. He raised Rapier high above his head and an angry growl left his lips.

"This is for Ami, you bastard!" he hissed, before bringing Rapier down as hard as he could.

With the runes burning brightly on the blade, it cut through Hojo's body like a hot knife through butter. His body was split in half and blood sprayed all over, soaking Genesis' front and splattering all over his face. Though it should have disgusted him, Genesis made no move to wipe the blood away. Turning away from the fading body, Genesis walked to Amaterasu then sent Rapier away.

"Ami?" he asked softly, reaching out and gently touching an arm.

She made no reaction at his touch or voice. Genesis slowly and gently lifted her face so he could look at it, but as he did, sea foam green swirls began to surround her body. Realizing what was happening, tears began flowing down his face. He was too late...

"Goddess...please, please no...not this. Anything but this..." he begged, "Don't take her away...from me. Don't take away...what I love...so much. Please Goddess...please, don't take her. I beg of you...Don't take her from me..."

But the Goddess was not listening to him as the sea foam green continued to swirl around Amaterasu's body.

"Goddess please...no..." Genesis begged again in a whisper, kissing Amaterasu's lips softly.

Then the last swirls of sea foam took over Amaterasu's body and a few seconds later she was gone. Genesis fell to his knees crying, then threw his head back and screamed a soul-wrenching cry to the heavens.

"Minerva, how could you do this to me? How could you take away my heart, my soul, my life? Goddess, how could you take away the one thing that helps me live in this forsaken life of mine?!" he yelled to the skies above.

Then the room around him began to grow darker and darker. Genesis looked around frantically, putting his hands to the sides of his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

"No please...no darkness...I hate the darkness...please no..." he yelled curling in on himself.

[mysticm3ss]

RFA+Saeran x MC who does muay thai

not requested, but i was at a muay thai class today and just started thinking abt this so i figured i’d write it. this is pure self-indulgence, sorry haha. if you haven’t heard of it before, muay thai is thai kickboxing ^^ (also i’m not claiming to be an expert by any means i’ve only been doing it for like 6 weeks i just rly like it)

Yoosung:

Lowkey terrified when he finds out.

That said, the experience in which he discovers your hobby isn’t exactly “ideal.”

It was late as the two of you walked home from one of your dates; the street lamps were dull, the traffic nothing but a slow trickle as you walked hand in hand down the footpath, sharing whispers and hushed giggles in the quiet of the night.

Safe by Yoosung’s side and all too occupied as the apple of his eye, you don’t even notice the person who had been following you the past block and a half.

When they make their presence known by grabbing your purse, your fight instincts take over and you slip easily into your muay thai stance, throwing quick, consecutive punches without thinking and easily blocking attempted counterattacks.

You follow it up with a knee to the liver and a brutal kick to their inner thigh. When you throw an uppercut elbow into their chin, they collapse into an unconscious heap before you.

Still shaking with adrenaline (and, to an extent, surprise at your own skill), you pry your purse from their grip and step away, only to find Yoosung gaping at you.

“...Yoosung?”

He blinks, shaking his head to snap himself from his stupor as he manages to stammer a response.

“M-MC... what the hell was that?! Oh my god, are you okay?!”

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hella turned on tbh

You chuckle sheepishly. “Heh. Yeah, I’m fine... you know how I go to the gym? It’s... technically a muay thai gym.”

Yoosung manages to nod, and stares in disbelief as you revert back to your usual self, pecking his cheek before taking his hand and continuing to walk down the pathway.

He can’t help but watch you in awe.

Wow, his partner is awesome.

Zen:

When Zen notices the bruises marring your legs and torso, he’s immediately concerned.

“Jagi... what happened? Are you okay? How did you get all these bruises? Is someone hurting you?!”

You can see the anger bubbling beneath the surface, and you run your hand down his arm soothingly before he can get too riled up.

“No, no, it’s fine, Zen... they’re just from muay thai.”

Zen’s brow furrows into the most adorable pout of confusion as he tilts his head to the side.

“...from what?”

You explain the sport to him, and his eyes light up with interest.

“Oh, wow! Maybe I could... go with you, sometime?” he suggests idly, and you nod eagerly.

The next week, you drag him to a beginner’s class.

The moment you walk into the gym, Zen’s chest tightens with jealously. The gym is full of guys. Shirtless guys. Fit shirtless guys.

When you greet them all as friends, even hugging a few who hadn’t been in for a while, Zen can’t help but pull you a little closer to his side.

“...MC, y-you come here almost every day?” he asks, and you giggle, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth and easily spotting the hint of insecurity in his eyes, and the protectiveness that shadowed it.

“Yes, and I come home to you,” you remind him, and he immediately relaxes, nodding and casting aside his worries as he instead focusses on enjoying the sport you devote so much time to.

You start off by teaching him how to wrap his hands and volunteering to hold pads for him first, once he’s learned some basic movements.

He’s already fit, so it doesn’t take him too long to get down the basic technique...

...but his punches are weak, his kicks weaker, and you know right away that he’s going easy on you.

“Zen. Babe. You can kick harder,” you prompt, and he chuckles.

“What? I know... I just...”

You grin, and the timer buzzes, signalling the end of the round.

When the instructor begins to describe the movements for the next round, he drags you to the front of the room to demonstrate, considering your experience in comparison to the other beginners. When he gets you to hold pads for him, Zen flinches as he watches the instructor knee the belly pad strapped around your waist, followed by the quick, solid roundhouse kick you easily catch with the pads. 

The thwack of flesh on leather has Zen half ready to leap to your defence, but he can only stare in awe as you easily absorb the impact.

You swap partners for the next round, and Zen couldn’t possibly describe his anxiety as he watches you partner up with someone almost twice your size.

His anxiety fades into admiration as he watches you land punch after punch, nailing kicks and knees into your partner’s waiting pads like nobody’s business.

he almost gets punched in the head (twice) while he’s not paying attention let’s be real

By the end of the class, Zen has already made friends with your buddies--if they’re important to you, they’re important to him, as well, and he’d be damned if he didn’t want to make a good first impression on them.

When the two of you head home that evening, Zen relents that maybe the sport isn’t for him (he can’t have bruises on his beautiful skin after all), but is always eager to support your interests.

Jaehee:

This judo enthusiast is thrilled when she hears that you enjoy a combat sport, as well.

Peppers you with questions about the differences between the two sports, and would honestly love to give sparring with you a go in order to compare techniques...

...which is exactly what the two of you end up doing.

You’re not trying to hurt each other, of course--you set boundaries and never go at each other with full power.

But when the two of you finish up, you’re both patterned with mottling bruises and aching limbs.

After a hot shower, the two of you cuddle up on the bed, all tangled limbs and gentle nuzzling as you press soft kisses to one another’s wounded skin.

You run your hands along Jaehee’s back and gently massage her sore muscles, feeling the tension seep from her body as she relaxes into the sheets, humming contentedly at your touch.

When you’re done, she returns the favour, ending it with a soft kiss to the lips that breaks as you both can’t help but smile against one another’s mouths.

“That was fun, MC...” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “But... maybe we should leave sparring to our respective classes. I don’t like the idea of hurting you.”

You smile, wincing as you shuffle to glance over at her, body still throbbing dully in pain.

She mimics the action, ribs obviously sore and arms tired as they wrap around your waist, warm and soft.

“Mmm... good idea,” you reply, pressing your face into her neck and placing a soft kiss to her jaw. “I don’t want to hurt you, either.”

Jumin:

When Jumin finds out about your hobby, he’s a mix between intrigued and impressed.

“MC, as much as I love that you’re capable of defending yourself, you do realise we have a whole security team dedicated to your safety...?”

You smile goodnaturedly and explain to him that it’s not just about the self-defence, though that is an added bonus; it’s about the stress relief and satisfaction of being able to nail a certain move or combo, and the thrill that comes with sparring.

When he sees just how much you enjoy it, he considers hiring a world titleholder to act as your personal trainer.

And as much as the idea of meeting such a skilled individual excites you, you explain that it’s really not necessary.

You love the comradeship you have at your gym, and your primary goal isn’t to fight professionally, anyways. You’re happy where you are.

Definitely buys you top-notch equipment--we’re talking brand new gloves and shin pads, so fancy that you’re a little scared to imagine the heavy price tag they bore.

Loves to watch you practise shadowboxing around the house, and peppers you with questions about your technique.

Even asks you to show him a few moves.

let’s just say that muay thai is not jumin’s forte

Regardless, you appreciate his interest in your passion, and definitely enjoy the hot baths he draws to soothe your sore muscles, and the loving attention he pays you afterwards.

Seven:

“MC, that’s amazing~! Who would’ve thought my innocent sweetie was so tough and talented!”

Honestly, the idea of you engaging in the sport is really exciting to him.

and turns him on to no end

Eager to drive you to, and pick you up from, all of the classes you go to throughout the week.

Your biggest supporter if you ever choose to fight, and working out with you is one of the few things that can drag him away from the constraints of his work.

He doesn’t mention it, but the fact that you’re somewhat competent in combat is also really reassuring to him.

Knowing that you can look after yourself if the situation arose? Super comforting to him, especially regarding his line of work.

Insists on sparring with you.

“Saeyoung, do you even know anything about muay thai, let alone how to spar in it?”

“Whaaaaat? Of course~!”

(He doesn’t)

(He doesn’t even block any of your punches)

(C’mon man you’re a secret agent you know how to block a goddamn punch)

“Ohh, MC, you’re just too strong for me~ God Seven is forced to surrender!”

Brags about you to the RFA chat every other day.

“Hey, did you know MC can totally beat me up~?”

“...Seven, confine your kinks to the bedroom please”--the entire RFA

Regardless, he’s super proud of you and will always, always support your interests, especially one he finds so cool!

Saeran:

It makes him uneasy.

The idea of a bunch of people throwing punches at you, with only a foam pad between you and their fist or elbow?

Nope. Not a fan.

And when you come home with bruises?!?!

“I thought you said they weren’t really hurting you?!”

“Sae, I literally did this to myself. The boxing bags aren’t soft on my shins, y’know.”

Begrudgingly admits he’s glad you know how to defend yourself, though.

Plus he sees how happy you are when you come home, and nothing can beat the flutter in his chest when he sees the light in your eyes and the grin on your face, even when you’re sweaty and sore.

Eventually, it’s something that he gets used to, and he finds himself kissing the bruises marring your skin and rubbing tiger palm into your sore muscles.

So long as you’re happy, so is he.

hope you enjoyed! i don’t expect many people to read this one but if you’ve made it this far, why not reblog or comment and let me know what you think? xx

[theflashdriver]

Silvaze: Nightly Routine

Blaze finds herself drifting off but, having left the couch and trekked up to her bedroom, she finds the mattress occupied by a certain Silver hedgehog. I’ve decided to start posting my works from Silvaze week here now! Prepare for 5 more fics over the next little while! This story was written for the Dream prompt and comes in at 3.2k words!

---

Crisis city nights weren't much different from Crisis city days. Thick cloud hung overhead, fires still wildly burned and you could rest assured that the spawn of Iblis still prowled the streets. With the sun down it was, admittedly, a little darker, but the ever-present flames prevented true darkness. Really, one could sleep all day and scavenge all night without the slightest change in difficulty; the difference was that small.

Yet, for whatever reason, Blaze had fallen into a routine based on this unseen solar cycle. The first of her yawns had just broken through her lips, no matter how she'd tried to smother it, and dampness was starting to collect in her eyes. The words in her poetry book had started to jumble, she was scarcely able to read them let alone understand the prose's deeper meaning. Thus began that evening routine; stretching slightly, she rose from the chair she'd been lounging in and began to wander through her abode.

She and her partner had recently claimed a townhouse as their home, gathering the prior occupants' heirlooms and enshrining them in what had once been a child's bedroom. The building was nice, being one in a row of houses had offered some additional protection, and they'd settled rather easily. Books and games they'd gathered were neatly pilled in the living room, the cupboards were filled with salvaged goods and any damage to the walls had been thoroughly patched.

Blaze climbed the stairs, another yawn sneaking past her lips as she reached the landing. A few paces more and she arrived in their bedroom hallway, but before she could sleep step two of this routine had to be completed. She pushed into the first door on the right, coming face to face with a thoroughly unused bedroom; its neat bedspread coated in a thick layer of dust. Ignoring that she turned to the closet, opening it and finding her clothes neatly arranged. Shedding her combat garb, taking extra care to avoid the various bandages crossing her body, she donned her nightwear; a loose-fitting grey tank top and equally baggy black shorts. Her gloves removed, she reached up and gently undid her ponytail. Free of it and her heels she couldn't help but feel she'd shrunk considerably. Regardless phase two was complete, with the spring of carpet directly beneath her Blaze exited her room crossed to the door directly opposite. Here she hesitated, not for fear of continuing but out of courtesy.

Ever so gently, the feline turned the doorknob and slowly pushed inside what had become her true bedroom. The room was dark, heavy curtains pulled, but every so often a pulse of cyan light would push away that darkness. That lowlight provided more than enough visibility for Blaze to glance across the room. Of course, that presence of that light meant the one who cast it was also present. Silver the hedgehog was fast asleep, lying upon their shared bed. She didn't remember when he'd come in from scouting, she'd surely been too engrossed in her reading, but it was wonderful to see him sleeping so soundly, despite the world outside. His quills and limbs strewn in every direction, he was laying on top of the duvet rather than beneath it; backside in the air as he took up the central section of their bed. Blaze tried to smother her laugh. It was common that she stayed up later than him but she'd only found him like this on a couple of occasions. Today's scouting must have really sapped him for energy; he hadn't had the strength to crawl beneath the covers let alone give her a proper rundown of what he'd seen. As Blaze rounded to her side of the bed she knew the end point of her routine was near, it lay somewhere beneath that hedgehog's left shoulder.

His face was buried deep into the pillow but, from her new angle, she could see dimples brought on by his sleeping smile. The patchwork of bandages garbing both their bodies slipped her mind as she watched him. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a slight movement. His foot was twitching, a telltale sign that he was dreaming but about what she could only guess. Perhaps some great success, be it the final defeat of Iblis or the discovery of some helpful artefact from a bygone era.

As she slid to sit on the bed the hedgehog shifted in response, a sound not dissimilar to a sigh slipping his lips, but he hadn't moved nearly enough. Fortunately, however, Blaze knew exactly how to handle him. Her hand came up to caress his quills, slowly but methodically returning his quills to their typical arrangement. With every brush and caress, she watched his expression shift, through her touch she was able to gently ease him further toward his side of the bed. Her fingertips rounded to the back of his ear and scratched, though she did so much too gently. Silver's head tilted toward her hand, his whole body shifting back into her grasp as he attempted to fully embrace that contact. After no more than a minute he was fully on his side, his sleepy smile fully displayed to her, and she managed to slip into a lying position.

Face to face with him, she could see the effect her touch was having. His grin had been warped, small fangs glinting through a broad grin and his brow smoothed through relaxation. Another yawn having broken through, Blaze's head fully met with the pillow; her eyes slowly closing. From there her scratching slowed, her hand slipped to hold at his nape and she felt sleep begin to overtake her.

But alas, it could not claim her yet.

A whine, bordering on pathetic, slipped his throat; his sleeping form lumbered closer in clear protest of her stopping. She lowered her hand to the small of his back and gently pushed her forehead to his but, apparently, this contact wasn't enough. The feline felt him even nuzzle closer, as if attempting to sink deeper into her touch if not reclaim the other side of the bed.

She bumped back with her own forehead but, as she did, words tumbled from his lips. Spoken no louder than a whimper, he pleaded with her, "Don't go, Blaze, please… I need…"

She felt the twitch of his foot and, prying her eyes open, she watched his brow harden. There was no doubt in her mind, the hedgehog was dreaming of her. For as long as she'd known him, she known he was a frequent dreamer. He'd often regale her with them as though they had really happened, sometimes Silver would dream of how he imagined the past; sailing over bright blue seas and clambering through vine filled forests. He'd even talked of a school life, attending classes and doing whatever it was they were meant to do in school. Oftentimes she was present in such dreams but, on occasion, he would wake up scared. Either he'd noticed she wasn't there or, as was more common, he'd lost her in some nightmare.

"So naïve…" Her hand gently brushed between his spines before returning to hold the back of his head, drawing his face closer to hers. Tired as she was, Blaze couldn't stand to leave him like this. The feline's claws pricked free as she resumed her gentle scratching, "So sweet."

The smile immediately returned to his lips, she felt him gently wriggle back into her grasp as coos flavoured his breath. Blaze heard his tail begin to wag; a gentle yet repeated slapping noise filling their small bedroom. As if in response, she felt her tail flop across their waistlines before gently curling around him. Soon her free hand found its way to his chest fur, her fingers gently dragging through it; undoing the knots that had formed over the day's endeavours. He smelled strongly of smoke, well… everything in this world did, but beneath that was the slightly more appealing scent of sweat from the day's work. She'd trained with him in the morning, they'd sparred as per usual, but they'd spent most of the day apart. She'd checked their inventory and gathered food from the surrounding area; Silver had both scouted for Iblis' inevitable return and, more crucially, flown around the survivor settlements to make sure they were still intact, crossing from one side of the city to the other. His powers were strong but, naturally, overuse had drained him. It was no wonder he'd fallen into such a deep sleep.

As she continued, claws combing deeper through his fur, more words were pushed past his lips, "Thank you, Blaze…"

Whispering again, she started a reply; "There's nothing to tha-

Lost in a reality all of his own, the hedgehog cut her off. With three simple words knocked the sleep from her, "I love you…"

Blaze told herself it was sleep babble, plain and simple, nothing more and nothing less, but with those words spoken her heart quadrupled in pace. He'd been dreaming about her, dreaming deeply enough to call her name, and had then spoken those three words; three words simple words she'd never expected to hear. Before she could catch herself Blaze was purring, her claws shrank as her fists bawled and teeth grit. Even if he was asleep, even if there was no one to see, the feline wanted to hide her face; embarrassment burned like wildfire.

The sleeping hedgehog didn't help matters; he slipped forward again, attempting to seek out her touch. It was too much; she kept her hand to his chest in an attempt to keep the distance. Eventually, he settled; head slumping against the pillow and a look she could only read as dissatisfied formed on his face. Her fists slowly unclenched, her heartbeat rang above her considerable purrs.

Slowly, without so much as a thought, Blaze found herself shifting; soon her chin hung no more than an inch above his forehead. She aligned herself with his right ear, its tip poking free from his mess of quills. Leaning closer still, heat growing in her chest and on her face, Blaze closed her eyes. Opportunities like this were common, quiet moments always heightened the tension between them, but only in her dreams would she dare act upon them. With him asleep, Blaze's confidence was bolstered but even still she was afraid. What would this do to their partnership? Would he return her feelings? Even if he did, how would that affect their future? It might make him reckless, overly defensive of her… well, more than he already was.

Despite these thoughts, Blaze felt a twinge of confidence; likely brought about by his sleeping state. In as soft a voice as she could muster, she whispered four simple words into his ear; "I love you too," His head tilted upward in response to the sound, her muzzle dragged through his quills only for her chin to linger upon his forehead. Still whispering, purred words fell from her lips; "I want to tell you properly someday but, for now, I guess this will have to do."

Without so much as a thought, Blaze's lips found the hedgehog's forehead; her hand gently tugging back his quills to better allow the contact. The kiss was anything but brief; she'd longed to do this for so long and finally worked up the gumption, Blaze was going to take her time. Despite the coarseness of their world, his fur was still soft. He really was a naïve wonder in this otherwise rotten city, she didn't dare to think where or who she'd be without him. They would have struggled alone, a far worse fate than struggling together.

Finally, the kiss completed, Blaze pulled away from his forehead; releasing his quills, but as she did a groan sounded beneath her. Silver was shifting, his movements were different from those prior.

"B-Blaze?" Though sleep's slur lingered in his voice, Blaze could tell he was awake, "Wh-When did you get here?"

Their eyes locked and, try as she might, Blaze couldn't smother her purr. There was no way he knew of the kiss, he'd only started to stir as she pulled away, but the thought of that contact lingered in her mind; she bashfully broke eye contact. Her eyes slipped to his lips, "Not too long ago. I'm sorry to have awoken you."

"D-Don't worry about it," A sleepy smile crossed his face but, beyond it, even in the dark she could see his blush, "I'm sorry I didn't come down earlier, I was just too drained. Rest has really helped."

"So I noticed, you didn't make it under the covers," Now that her eyes were on his muzzle it was as though bashfulness was holding her hostage, she couldn't pry her eyes away from his lips, "You were dreaming, weren't you? Do you want to tell me about it?"

"W-Well," His hesitation spoke volumes, "Y-Yeah, I had a dream, it was different from the usual sort though," It seemed as though his sleep talk was truthful, "You were there…"

"I was…?" She struggled to feign ignorance; she couldn't help noticing his face was drawing closer… or was she drawing closer to him?

"Yes and… w-well, we…" It was like she was magnetized; slowly but surely the feline found herself inching closer and closer. Her lips were so close to his, no more than three inches between them. He'd clearly noticed, "Blaze…"

"Silver…" The end of his name rolled with her purr, her head began to tilt as the inches counted down.

As the tension heightened Blaze's eyes closed, his fanciful dream had granted them both the confidence to move forward! Their lips were about to meet, purrs ferociously tore through her chest and her ears pinned forward as if pointing her closer still. Her tail began to lash in anticipation and claws extend, a second longer and they'd seal their bond with a kiss!

But, for some strange reason, their lips never met. Instead, Blaze felt something bizarre. She was no longer leaning toward him, her head felt heavy and there was a pair of arms holding her, not his arms hugging her close but an arm behind her knees and another around her shoulders. Her eyes flickered open, she blinked twice, only to find they aligned with a familiar ceiling rather than her partner. She was in the living room, no more than three paces from the chair she'd been reading in.

A groan slipped her throat as she continued to blink the sleep from her eye, she felt the grasp around her shoulder and legs tighten slightly. They'd been moving before, they'd suddenly stopped. Where was Silver? Turning slightly, she locked eyes with his frazzled muzzle; the hedgehog was indeed the one holding her, but for some reason, they were in the living room? What had happened to that kiss? They'd been so close to-

Blaze's groggy mind finally caught up to her body, reality crushed her like a toppled skyscraper. It'd all been a dream; she'd been so foolish! While Silver occasionally spoke in his sleep the phrases were rarely so concrete. Furthermore, while her warmth often drew him close, for him to move so fitfully yet remain in deep sleep; it was simply unrealistic. It all made sense; she didn't remember him coming back because she'd fallen asleep before he'd returned! Even her confidence had been dreamt; taking such blatant initiative was well beyond her current capability. A different type of embarrassment swept over her, not that of butterflies in her stomach and inevitable kisses but the type born of hindsight, the type that toted an overwhelming compulsion to kick herself.

Judging by the sheepish look in his eye the embarrassment was mutual, albeit heavily lopsided with her bearing the brunt. He was a mess, fur lined with soot and a fresh bandage bound around his left shoulder.

His voice wavered, "H-Hey Blaze, sorry to wake you."

"Silver," She accidentally grumbled, "What are you doing?"

"I thought you were having a dream so I figured I'd move you somewhere more comfortable," He quickly explained, her awakened grumpiness had lit a panic in his eyes, "Your claws kept coming out so I thought it might've been a nightmare, w-was I wrong?"

"Y-You're so naïve," Again, those words came out as more of a growl than she intended. Even outside that dream, her blush still ran rampant; chasing from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. The closeness of his lips certainly wasn't helping matters, "It was just a dream, a normal dream!"

Blaze quickly broke eye contact, her fists clenched as she turned to the ground. Her book had fallen, her page surely lost but that was the least of her problems. Even now the lowlight scene kept replaying in her mind, from his words to the kiss they'd very almost shared. Usually, her dreams would fade when she woke up, Silver was far better at recounting his, but given the contrast between the situations Blaze knew there was no shaking it.

"Do you want me to put you back?" Regret and dejection punctuated his query, her grows had clearly offset him.

While a small (very embarrassed) part of her wanted to say yes, her sleepy memories of that imagined night and the comfort she felt in his arms begged otherwise. Maybe it was the regret in his voice, perhaps she was simply too tired to refuse but the warmth she felt was undeniably contributing to her want to stay. Besides, it wasn't his fault she'd had that dream; on any other occasion, she'd consider this normal. He was trying to help her, carry her up to bed so she could rest peacefully; she would do the same for him, without hesitation.

Rather than answer him, she posed a question of her own; "Why didn't you use your powers to pick me up?"

"I was scared they'd be too loud, I didn't want to wake you," Silver admitted, "I guess that was silly considering I ended up doing it anyway…" The feline met her partner's eye once more, his guilt was plain to see, "I'm sorry."

"Just…" She rolled her eyes, feeling her face flare warmer still, and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. Though a pout remained fixed to her lips, his kind-hearted nature continued to warm her heart, "It's fine, j-just take me upstairs."

"A-Are you sure, I can set you down-

"Silver," Again she found herself hissing, the embarrassment was simply too much; reality mismatched with fantasy. Certain her words would fail the cat mustered some courage; she'd speak through her actions. Biting her lip, she pushed her forehead against his cheek, nuzzling in a rough attempt to relax him, before fully leaning into the crook of his neck; allowing her eyes to close, "I'm just tired, let's go to bed."

"A-Alright," She felt his grasp shift slightly, accommodating her shift, and started to walk, "Oh, um, I hope your dream was nice whatever it was…"

With her face hidden among his fluff Blaze hoped he couldn't read her expression, but from the strain in his voice she knew they were in the same position; embarrassed by their situation but too scared to confront it. Perhaps, one day, she'd have the gall to act as she had in that dream, but until then she was content with how things were. As long as they were together they were free to dream of what might be.

[aishahiwatari]

Only Skin Deep - a tattooed!Bones Academy Era McKirk Story

With bonus Bones in a skirt!

Inspired by this tumblr post. A huge thank you to @these-broken-bones and @littlecrazyfangirl-98 for their inspiration. @captainmccoy I take cash or cheque or alternatively payment in comments!

Also on AO3

Leonard is usually very careful. But he's in hand-to-hand one day, too busy grappling with an over-zealous trainee security officer to realise that his shirt rides up at the back.

 It would take more than that, though, to distract him from the unmistakable crunch of flesh striking bone and a yell of pain. Leonard shoves his sparring partner off him and turns towards the sound.

 Somehow it's both the first and last person he expects to find injured. "Damnit, Jim, what did you do?"

 Jim is too busy trying to staunch the flow of blood from a likely broken nose to immediately respond. He waves away the concern of their instructor but lets Leonard brusquely examine him, getting them both covered in blood in the process, and submits to Leonard's suggestion of the Academy Clinic with suspiciously little argument and an overabundance of pained groans.

 There's only ten minutes of their session left, so the instructor lets them go and Jim makes a miraculous recovery the moment he's out the door.

 "Bones! What is that under your shirt?"

 "That's why you got punched in the face? You were too busy ogling my tattoo?"

 Jim lets out a girlish shrieking sound that is hastily cut off when Leonard grabs him by the arm and robustly encourages him to keep walking where he would have stopped. It doesn't really help. Leonard can feel the anticipatory silence, Jim's restless energy, his need to know as an almost physical presence.

 Still, it doesn't last long. "Please, Bones. Let me see it? I just want to see it. I'll stop pestering you, just let me see what's under your shirt."

 "Your pick-up lines need work," Leonard slaps away inquisitive hands, ends up with yet more smears of blood all over his for his trouble. He wipes them on his black shirt, figures it's already past saving. "And I know you. You'll keep pestering."

 "But I won't need to if you just let me see- wait. You have more than one."

 It's like all of Jim's Christmases have come at once. He even lights up so vividly that Leonard has to look away. Anyway, Jim hates Christmas. He needs a better metaphor.

 "Bones, I'm gonna need you to get naked for the good of the 'Fleet."

 "Really."

 "Yes! You wouldn't want their best Captain to be distracted, now, would you? It would be a disaster."

 "Captain Pike does not give a damn what's under my shirt, Cadet."

 "I'll still be distracted when I'm a Captain. And I don't know, I mean, he's not blind-"

 "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

 "You're a good-looking guy, Bones! And you're- weirdly buff, for a doctor."

 "I am not weirdly anything, except friends with you."

 "I know you meant that as an insult but all I'm taking from that is you admit we're friends."

 "You sound a little delusional, Jim, are you sure you're not up for another round of vaccinations?"

 Jim plants his feet right outside the damn clinic, makes Leonard realise just how little chance he stands against the force of that resolve. Still. He has a reputation to maintain. "Move. You're not seeing a damn thing until you've stopped bleeding."

 "It's pretty much stopped. I don't even think it's broken."

 "You're right, I should definitely believe the idiot who got punched in the head over my years of medical expertise."

 Jim just grins at him. There's blood dripping off his face. His nose is definitely crooked.

 "Goddamnit, fine." Leonard turns, lifts his shirt up at the back. He expected but is unprepared for the sensation of Jim's hands on his exposed skin, pushing his shirt up further, tracing the lines of ink that have been part of his skin for so long he almost forgets about them. He is in no way prepared for the awestruck stutter in Jim's breath, for the murmured curses that conspire to send shivers down his spine.

 "I can't believe you complain so much about the nickname," Jim breathes next, and Leonard snorts. Yes, he has bones tattooed on his back, starting at his hips and extending up his spine to fade out before it can realistically be seen while he's wearing a shirt, a hyper-realistic reminder to stand tall and protect what's inside of him.

 Jim draws the line at pushing his pants further down where they cover the further detail at his pelvis, but he traces the lines of jagged vertebrae with gentle fingers, smoothes his palms out over the curves of the ribs, just teases the edges of where he can see the scapulae at his shoulders. They're in public, but at least they're out of class early enough that not many people are around. Nobody even glances in their direction, but Leonard feels self-conscious all the same.

 "You done?" he asks, and Jim starts away, pulls Leonard's shirt down and attempts a confident grin that makes him hiss in pain. Leonard drags him into medical before he can put up any further arguments.

 -

 Leonard was right. Jim does want to see his other tattoos, and he does not stop pestering.

 In fact, he goes further than that.

 They meet in the cafeteria one day and Jim spills brightly-coloured soda all down Leonard's pants. He's unrealistically and aggressively apologetic and practically tries to convince Leonard to take his clothes off where they stand.

 Less than a week later, Leonard is stuck in a lecture because the tutor's codes no longer work on the door. Also, the heating system appears to be broken, because it is much warmer in there than it should be. Leonard spends the next hour or so glaring at the security cameras because he knows what Jim is doing, damnit, and it's bad enough that it should be irritating him without dragging other people into it too. Anyway, he grew up in Georgia. He's used to being uncomfortably hot and also surrounded by family members he despises, so it's kind of like a vacation.

 They're freed eventually, and he always carries an extra bottle of water with him after that. He also doesn't talk to Jim for three days, until he's worn down by the big, apologetic eyes and the flowers their tutor mysteriously receives.

 "It's still not alright, damnit! Don't go dragging other people into this! If you put half as much work into something productive…"

 Jim is grinning so broadly it's clear that his chastisement is having no effect. Leonard wears long sleeves and pants even in his quarters for the week after that, just to see him quietly fume and pout.

 Leonard steps out of the shower a while after that to find his clothes and towel have mysteriously disappeared. He actually finds himself grateful that Jim didn't just barge in and demand to see.

 He's also a little insulted that Jim underestimates him so severely.

 Uzbek is in their cultural sensitivity class, has about the same build and uses the showers about ten minutes after Leonard. Today is no exception.

 "Your boyfriend still playing all those pranks on you?" Uzbek asks, handing over the mass of red fabric with a smirk and only the barest glance of interest at the exposed ink on Leonard's chest.

 "Something like that."

 -

 He gets a few comments, all of them surprisingly complimentary, as he crosses campus. Most people either don't notice the difference or don't care, though, and he finds Jim outside their lecture theatre, pretending to be engrossed in his padd. Someone giggles, and Leonard shoots them a warning look, steps up in front of Jim, puts his hands on his hips and clears his throat.

 Jim glances up and there is a flash of disappointment in his eyes when he sees the red uniform. Then he notices. Leonard can tell he notices, because he drops his padd. Jim stares, mouth open, and Leonard just arches a brow at him, because it feels like he's getting revenge for everything Jim's put him through the last couple of weeks.

 The best part is, even with the skirt, the uniform still doesn't expose any more of his ink than it would have done anyway. The lotus flowers, inked in greyscale around his ankle are hidden by his boots, and he's still got long sleeves and the spare underwear he keeps in his locker at Medical.

 Jim is still staring. Leonard doesn't allow himself to feel uncomfortable, has never had a problem with his legs or a fragile grasp on his masculinity. He strides into the lecture theatre when the door is opened and feels Jim's gaze burn on the backs of his thighs, lets his hips sway just a little. The game has gone on long enough and he intends to win.

 When he chooses a seat, Jim sinks into the one beside him with a baleful glare. He doesn't make a single note, just stares some more, mostly at the hem of Leonard's skirt, the place where his thighs are pressed together. Unfortunately for him, Leonard grew up with enough women to know how to sit properly.

 By the time they get up to leave, Jim is practically vibrating with tension, fingers twitching with a need to touch. Leonard's not unaffected himself, and he doesn't resist when Jim hauls him into a secluded corner, shoves him up against the wall and kisses him. It's harsh and biting and Leonard pulls Jim in closer with hands on his ass, only too happy to accept this new outlet for their combined frustration.

 "I don't even care about the tattoos, I just need to see you naked right now," Jim pants, with a nip at Leonard's ear, a graze of his teeth along Leonard's jaw, his hand creeping up the outside of Leonard's thigh. It's tempting, very tempting.

 "Not that sort of girl, damnit. You'll need to at least buy me dinner."

 Jim huffs out a laugh. His eyes are dark, his cheeks flushed, his lips swollen and wet. "I've got half a bottle of bourbon and a bag of peanuts in my room."

 "Deal."

 -

 Later, when they're sated and relaxed and sleepy -or so Leonard thinks- Jim turns the lights up to full and yanks the covers off to look his fill.

 "What is wrong with you?" Leonard complains, but the gentle touch of fingers to his inked ankle is surprisingly pleasant. The flowers there tell a story for him. Lotus flowers are submerged in mud overnight, have their roots there, but they bloom anew every morning without a single smudge to mar their beauty. Lotus seeds can survive hundreds of years without water, still germinating centuries later. They are hardy, and miraculous. They're one of the first thing he sees most mornings when he gets out of bed.

 He hugs his pillow and buries his face in it, shivers slightly when Jim kisses each of the flowers in turn, then trails his lips up the back of Leonard's thigh to bite lightly at his ass, finally setting his hands to the inked pelvic bones just above it. He traces them reverently, relaxing Leonard by degrees before urging him to turn over.

 Leonard does it with a grumble, because he knows what's coming, knows it's inevitable.

 Jim bursts out laughing, of course, when he sees it, the adorable kitten inked close to his navel.

 "Lost a bet in medical school."

 "Did you- choose the design?" Jim is still laughing. Leonard hits him with the pillow. Jim snatches it off him and throws it across the room, then bends to kiss the kitten. Leonard's hips twitch hopefully, Jim's lovely mouth so close to areas beginning to once more demand attention with Jim also gloriously naked and within reach. He just gets a coy look for his troubles and rolls his eyes.

 Jim finds the caduceus on his inner arm next, just above the elbow. It's meant to stay Leonard's hand when he might otherwise act rashly, a reminder to do no harm. Subtly, in the detail of the staff, is the stardate of his father's death. If Jim notices, he doesn't ask.

 There are twin guardians adorning Leonard's chest, Chinese lion statues representing yin and yang. Balance. They watch over Leonard's heart, because he's fallen too hard and too fast, or given too much, too many times. Jim pets them like they're adorable puppies, but he does allow himself to be dragged down into a kiss by way of Leonard's fists clenching in his hair once he's done.

 "Think I should get one?" he asks, maybe an hour later.

 "Don't do it on my account. I know some good artists if you wanted to talk to them about any designs you had in mind."

 -

 Jim's taste in tattoos tends towards commemorating events far more than Leonard's does. By the time they finally attend the parlour together, Jim already has a colourful nebula inked across his ribs on one side, a cluster of four wheatsheafs across the opposite pectoral. There's a guardian angel keeping watch over his back, too.

 Their matching tattoos are anatomically correct hearts around which a selection of planets orbit, Leonard's in greyscale and adorning his forearm. Apparently he has a propensity to wear his heart on his sleeve.

 Jim's is a vivid red, inked in the hollow of his hip, a testament to the number of times he has been accused of being governed by what's in his pants.

[lunarowena]

Hybrids

For @pillarspromptsweekly #0054: Versatility.

So I only created Amaryllis in Deadfire, so she's kind of always been multi-classed since she's never been single classed, so have a rambling backstory dump?

Thanks to my husband for copy-editing and to the cat for her contributions. Unfortunately, the "``````````````fgh" had to be edited out as it didn't fit the flow of the work.

Strange birds sung out in the morning on Maje Island. Well, strange to her, Amaryllis admitted to herself. They were perfectly normal birds for this area of the world she assumed. The morning light streamed over the trees, casting long shadows. The air still cool, it was the  perfect time to get sparring in before it got too hot. She ducked a kick from Xoti and responded with one of her own.

They had started the routine a few days ago, when Amaryllis woke up to do her morning exercises and found Xoti awake as well.

“Don’t sleep too well,” she had said. “The dreams.”

Amaryllis understood how that felt. In an effort to distract Xoti from her disturbing dreams, she had suggested unarmed sparring. They could talk if they wanted to, but they didn’t have to. Xoti seemed to appreciate the distraction for the first two days, but after falling into the routine she was much more lively today.

Xoti blocked the kick and the follow up punch and responded with a round kick that hit Amaryllis in the shoulder and threw her off balance. She landed on the ground.

“Point to you.” Amaryllis rubbed her shoulder.

“Thanks.” Xoti offered her a hand up while not so subtly glancing over at where Edér was stoking the morning fire to see if he had been watching.

He was smoking a pipe and staring out into the jungle, contemplatively. Aloth still slept in the nearby pitched tent.

Amaryllis grabbed the offered hand and Xoti pulled her to her feet. “Time for a water break?” Amaryllis asked, inclining her head back towards camp.

Xoti slightly reddened but nodded and the two women headed over to the fire circle where Amaryllis pulled out the water skins.

Amaryllis gulped the water down greedily, droplets running down the side of her face onto her damp shirt. She took a deep breath and wiped her mouth. “So, Xoti, I’ve been meaning to ask, where did you learn to fight?” She hadn’t honestly expected Xoti to know much about unarmed combat since she normally fought with her sickle, shield, and, well, magic, but Xoti was trained. It was a slightly different style than Amaryllis’s, but Xoti had learned hand-to-hand combat somewhere.

Xoti wiped a damp cloth over her forehead and shook out her hair. Edér was still ignoring them for the fire. She rolled her eyes at his back and turned to Amaryllis as she spoke. “One of the Eothasian priests back home. More of a monk, really. Used to give lessons to all the boys. And me.”

“You were that insistent?”

Xoti shrugged. “I mostly just wanted to talk theology, but he got frustrated at that and I got good at ducking. And then I got frustrated at his ideas and I got good at kicking.” She grinned. “Ain’t had much practice in years. I know I ain’t very good.”

Amaryllis rubbed her shoulder ruefully. “If you’re not very good then my pride’s taking quite a beating.”

Xoti laughed. “That’s the first good hit I’ve had on you in three days.” She took a swig of water. “Where’d you learn to fight? I always thought of ciphers as the sneaky, stabby kind, not the punchy, kicky kind.”

“As far as I can tell there aren’t any weapon limitations on being a cipher, but I haven’t known many others.” Amaryllis leaned up against a tree. “But my mother was a Glamfellen monk.”

“Was?” Xoti clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry!”

“You’re fine.” Amaryllis grinned. “She’s still alive. Just no longer a monk. Some dashing, Aedyran, Sceltrfolc explorer came down to the White that Wends and whisked her away up to the Living Lands where they’ve been for the oh, last sixty years or so. Wait, I’m sixty-three now. Seventy years? Anyway,” she took another drink of water, “my father is a semi-well known explorer, Brandford Alfwyn. It was strange reading his books in University. He was on an expedition down to the Wend when he met my mother and the way they tell it it was love at first sight. And that he’s also not the most popular down there now.”

Xoti’s eyes twinkled with laughter. “That why they spent seventy years up North?”

“Some of it. The rest of it, they just like it up there. My father says it’s the most interesting place he’s ever been. ‘You can spend fifty years exploring the same area and it’s always different.’ And they have.”

Xoti cocked her head to the side. “So your pa’s from Aedyr and you’re ma’s Glafel-, Glamelefel-, Glamflafl–”

“Glamfellen.” Aloth ducked out of the tent. He smiled faintly. “Or ‘pale elf’ if you prefer.”

Edér blew out a long puff of smoke. “I already put some hot water on. For your tea,” he responded to Aloth’s blank look.

“Oh,” Aloth looked surprised. “Thank you.”

“It ain’t been so long that I don’t remember you drink tea in the morning, ‘Engferth.’” He chucked at his own joke.

“Yes, well–” Aloth turned and busied himself making tea.

“So,” Xoti continued, “your ma’s a pale elf and your pa’s a–”

“Wood elf,” Amaryllis supplied. “Like Aloth.”

“–wood elf, but you look like a pale elf? Sorry, tell me if I’m running my mouth, but, y’see, in my case, my pa’s an Aedyran settler and my ma’s Natlan and I look more like her, darker like, and so do most folk I know with one Natlan parent. So shouldn’t you look more like your pa?”

“So,” Amaryllis said, “that would usually be true, but there’s a rumor’s going back in my father’s family of having Glamfellan ancestors–‘Alfwyn’ means ‘white elf,’ as a loose translation–and I’m somewhat living proof of that hypothesis.”

“It is too early in the morning for a conversation about recessive genetics,” Aloth grumbled, sitting down next to Edér, who had started to pay attention to the conversation.

“What-ive what?” Xoti asked.

Aloth blew steam off the top of his tea and sighed. “So generally you’re correct in that darker hair, skin, eye color is what gets passed on due to being the dominant phenotype–” noticing  Xoti’s eyes glazing over at the terminology, he stopped and placed his pointer finger to his forehead, thinking. “Edér, are both your parents blond?”

“Nope.” Edér chewed on the end of his pipe. “My ma’s blond but my pa’s got brown hair. But my Grandpa Teylecg was supposed to be blond back in the day.”

“Right. So since Edér’s father was a heterogeneous carrier,” he stopped himself. “Edér’s father may have had darker hair, but since he had someone back in his family tree that was also blond, he had a chance to have blond children with someone who was blond or who also had blond ancestors. So since Amaryllis’s father’s family had pale elves in their ancestry, apparently, the ‘pale elf genes’ were passed down. Other children her parents may have had have a chance to look more like her father.”

“But I’m an only child,” Amaryllis shrugged.

“Basically, recessive genetics–in our conversation people with lighter features–can be expressed if somewhere in their line there were people with those lighter features. In your case, if you were to have children with a Thyrtan, your children each have a fifty percent chance of looking like you and your mother and a fifty percent chance of looking like your father and partner. Does that make sense?” Aloth took a sip of tea, testing the temperature of the liquid.

“So,” Xoti’s eyes twinkled mischievously, “if you and Amaryllis was to have kids–”

Aloth choked on his tea.

“–they would look like you because you probably don’t got pale elves in your family tree?”

Amaryllis couldn’t help but laugh at Aloth’s expression. “Yes, Xoti, that’s correct.”

Edér elbowed Aloth in the ribs, spilling some of the tea in the process. “So can I be the godfather of your future children?”

“There’s not going to be future children!” Aloth sputtered, flicking droplets of tea off his fingers.

“I don’t know.” Edér shrugged. “I want to see a horde of mini-Aloths. They’d all use such big words. And set everything on fire.”

“Magical ability is usually hereditary, yes, but–” Aloth shook his head. “Why are we having this conversation? Weren’t you all doing things before I woke up?”

Xoti turned to Amaryllis, who was doubled over laughing. “Oh, is he not your boyfriend?”

Aloth sputtered some high-pitched nonsense words and turned red. He took a long drink of tea.

Amaryllis took some deep breaths before she was able to reply. “No, Xoti, Aloth and I are not… he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh. Just the way you look at him, I thought–”

Aloth choked on his tea again.

“Why don’t we get back to practicing and leave Aloth alone?” said Amaryllis hastily. “Wouldn’t want to get out of shape.”

“I think your ‘out of shape’ is my ‘in shape,’” joked Xoti. “Don’t know why you put up with my flailing.”

“Hey, we half-monk, half-Aedyrans have to stick together,” said Amaryllis.

“Just don’t beat each other up too much,” said Edér. “Leave some energy for whatever we run into on the road.”

Amaryllis and Xoti paced back to the circle they had scratched for sparring. “Isn’t that what you’re for, Edér? Blocking all the damage?”

“Nah, Aloth’ll blast them all first.”

“Ready, Xoti? Three, two, one–” and practice resumed.

[gasoujima]

The Gifted

Character: Mansta X x reader

Word Count: 2055

Genre: fluff, angst, Superhuman AU

Masterlist

Prologue pt1 pt2 

Part 3:

pt4 pt5

Today was the day of the big sparring event. At training, the other level fives sat out(you included) while the competition participators had some extra practice time. The level fours training class met you all as well since they were competing. You watched Changkyun practice not really concentrating on anyone else around you. He was really good at sparring. Back when you both were sparring partners you’d always lose because he welcomed his abilities instead of contained them like you. Outside of class Changkyun was always joking around but during training, he was always focused. He used to lecture you while you sparred about developing your gifts.

Soon enough the lunch bells rang and you walked out of the arena chatting with Changkyun and Kihyun. You mainly just walked next to them and observed as they complimented each back and forth about certain skills but later trash talked about who was better.

The way the sparring contest worked was each participant would wear a vest that calculated how a normal person would take the blows but at the same time protect the person from any real harm. Once the person wearing the vest took too many blows the vest would turn red and the other participant claims the win. Neither person gets hurt severely. It’s kind of like laser tag with superhuman abilities. This is our version of high school football but at camp, there are no teams. It’s every person for themselves. Each participant is given an initial partner usually the same rank. Then it continues until there is only one winner. To even out chances when the participants don’t have even rank the person with the lower rank will be able to take more blows.  

At lunch, the bet paper got passed around. None of the supervisors were to see it because technically you aren’t supposed to place bets on events. Most people bet on the level fives since they are the highest level with the most powers. You would have placed a bet on Changkyun but then you remember Hyunwoo was also in the competition. Hyunwoo has the most experience out of all of us. He practically grew up in the camp and has always been a prodigy. Changkyun watched as you pushed the paper away. He raised an eyebrow.

“No bet?” He asked.

“Not interested,” you shook your head.

“I thought you’d bet on me.” He didn’t look at you just continued to eat his food. Part of you thought he was hurt by this small decision.

“I would have.” You frowned a little.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t have money to bet with,” you lied.

He mumbled and nodded his head.

‘Lying is a bad habit,’ Hyungwon snuck into your head again.

You slightly squeezed your glass ignoring his comment. ‘Does he always listen in on everything?’ You thought.

‘Heard that.’ you can see him from the corner of your eye smirking to himself.

You got up and threw the rest of your food into the garbage but saving the pudding you didn’t eat. You placed the pudding on Changkyun’s lunch tray.

“Good luck tonight,” you smiled.

He looked up at you with a smile and nodded his head.

You decided to go to the town since the gates were open because tonight and the weekend are off days. You walked around looking at the small stores and cafe stops. You grabbed a coffee at this little coffee shop called Copper Q. Then decided to look around at the store adjacent to it. It was a small store with little knickknacks and some clothing. On a metal tree in the corner, hung necklaces. Many stores sold these necklaces. They help you focus your powers when you first get them. Like training wheels when you learn to ride a bike.

“Find anything you like?” A store woman came up from behind you.

You jumped. “I’m just browsing,” you smiled awkwardly.

“Are you sure you aren’t looking for anything?”  She stepped slightly closer.

“No. Actually, I was leaving.” You quickly rushed out of the shop. That woman creeped you out. You remember when you had a necklace that stabilized your powers at one point. It was a small blue stone with a silver chain and your mother had given it to you. When you no longer needed it she tucked it away in a box somewhere. You thought you would ask her about it next time you visit her.

‘Hello,’ Hyungwon walked up next to you.

“Why don’t you just speak aloud? Do you always have to get in my head?” You crossed your arms.

‘This makes our conversations more private and meaningful,’ he nudged your shoulder. You glared up at him.

You walked into the next store. It was just like the last but didn’t have a creepy store leech. Hyungwon entered with you and looked around as well.  

You thought to look at the accessories because you wanted to buy Changkyun a thank you gift. A gold band bracelet caught your eye. You picked it up and looked at it closely. You didn’t have much money on you but what you had would be just enough to buy the bracelet.

‘He’d like that,’ Hyungwon told you as he stood across the store watching you stare at the gold band.

‘I know,’ you thought back. Hyungwon nodded seeing that you finally somewhat approved your new way of communication with him.

You held the band in your hand and walked around the shop some more. A small gold square locket hung on a hook attached to the side of a shelf. It was the only necklace there. You thought it was pretty and simple. You knew you had no money left for it at the moment. You decided to come back later on the weekend and get it then. You set it back on the hook and went to buy the gold band. Once you were done you saw Hyungwon still in the back of the shop.

‘You coming?’ You thought.

‘Yes. Be there in a sec. I’ll meet you at the gate,’he responded.

The store clerk furrowed her brows. You left knowing why she was confused.

You waited at the gate to the camp for Hyungwon.

You saw him jog up to you. He had a small gift bag on his arm.

“What’s that?” You glanced at the bag on his arm as you passed through the gateway to camp.

“There’s a girl at camp I want to confess to. I bought her a gift.”

“Oh,” you pursed your lips and walked toward the arena.

Your heart kinda sank at the thought of Hyungwon asking a girl out. You didn’t like him, did you? You brushed it off knowing he’d get in your head again and then tease you about thinking of him. Before heading into the arena you went to the back of it where the participants waited. You saw Changkyun sitting and talking to Hyunwoo.

“Changkyun!” You shouted.

He looked over smiled and waved. You gestured him to come over.

“Wish me luck?” He gave you a lazy one-armed hug. You pulled out the small dark blue felt box and handed it to him. He furrowed his brows and took it in his hands.

“What’s this for?” He flipped around in his hand a few times.

“Just a thank you. You know, for being there,” you shifted your weight nervously wondering if he’d like it or hate it. You know he’ll make you think he likes it no matter what. That’s just who he is. He’d never hurt anyone’s feelings.

He opened the little box and his eyes got bigger.

“No way,” his smile grew as he lifted from the box. “You bought me a good luck charm?”

He hugged you tightly with both arms this time and slipped the bracelet on. You wished him luck once more then turned to walk to the arena entrance. You saw him rush over and show Kihyun and Hyunwoo his new bracelet. He seemed quite excited about it and you were glad he was.

Once you reached the arena you sat at the bottom of the seating area near all the other level fives. Surprisingly Hyungwon didn’t go and join the others of his rank he sat beside you with popcorn in one hand and two soda cans in the other.

‘Subtle,’ you thought knowing he conjured that a few moments ago. You heard his laugh echo in your head. You reached for the popcorn but he moved it away.

‘Ah-ah-ah,’ he shook his head.

You stared at him. He smiled back and handed you the bucket of popcorn.

You both watched the show cheering on Changkyun. He had made it to the final round and won. You ran over to Changkyun and hugged him congratulating him. He spun you around then greeted all the guys from your rank that greeted him as well. You noticed he was still wearing the bracelet you had given him. Guess it brought some luck after all. You looked back where you were sitting and Hyungwon was gone. He must’ve joined Hoseok and Minhyuk after you ran away. You shrugged it off and turned back to your best friend.

“You did really great,” you put your hand on his shoulder.

“I know,” he chuckled. “It’s all because of this,” he raised his wrist to reveal the gold band at the end of his sleeve.

“It’s because I was here,” you joked.

“Indirectly,” he shrugged and walked off.

“Come on let's go get some ice cream,” he gestured for you to hurry up. “My treat.”

Changkyun steps halted and he furrowed his brows.

“Is something wrong?” You tilted your head.

“Not at all,” he smiled.”I’ll be right back, wait here,” he rushed over to the group of Minhyuk, Kihyun, Hyungwon, and Hoseok. You tilted your head as he walked over.

Changkyun pulled Hyungwon to side. “Why were you calling me?” Changkyun seemed irritated.

“I needed to give you this,” Hyungwon held out a small blue box like the one that held his bracelet.

“What is it?”

“It’s for Y/n. I saw her looking at it in town. She wanted to buy it but she chose to buy your gift. I figured it’s a nice way for you to pay her back.”

Changkyun shoved the small blue box in his pocket and said a thank you under his breath. You saw him turn and head back in your direction.

“What was that about?” You asked as Changkyun joined you.

“Nothing important.”

You both walked to the ice cream shop in town. Changkyun paid. He got a scoop of the mint chocolate chip and you a rocky road. “Thank you.”

He nodded. He seemed lost in thought. He came down from the high of his victory oddly quick. “Aren’t you tired?” You asked.

“I am,” he rubbed his eyes.

“C'mon let's go back then,” you stood and waited for him.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, “I don’t want to keep you out. You should rest.” He seemed awkward on the walk to the cabins. Changkyun is usually very talkative but this time he was silent. His eyes were glued to the ground and he walked so far from you. You both used to walk so close that you would accidentally bump shoulders. Changkyun would act like you bumped him so hard that he'd fall to the ground, faking he was in pain. You would laugh and he'd say "My pain is funny?" Then he'd proceed to be petty the rest of the way but you both laugh it off. "Are you alright?" You asked once you both arrived at the porch of your cabin. He nodded his head. "Did you see something, Changkyun?" Changkyun can see possible futures but he doesn't know how to control it so they come at random times. If he sees anything he usually tells you but you weren't sure. Did he see something or was he just very tired from his competition? "Huh?" he shook his head finally looking up at you since the ice cream shop. "No, I- uh I'll see you tomorrow," He turned around and started down the trail to his cabin. You leaned against the post and watched as he rushed away. You bounced from thought to thought about his unusual behavior.

[i-d-k-man]

If I’m Being Honest...

[Tododeku, BNHA]

A03 Link

Chapter 1

Bright sunlight made Todoroki squint as he stepped through the hospital’s automatic doors.  

It was a beautiful day - surprisingly cool for June - with a pleasant breeze tossing Todoroki’s bangs.  Even the hospital had seemed cheerful, his mother smiling softly as Todoroki opened her window, then laughing behind her hand as the wind caught the curtain and smacked her son in the face.  

She had been laughing more and more lately, each giggle (and occasional snort) threading one more stitch across the fractures of the past between them.  After all, Todoroki had heard that broken bones grow back stronger.

Closing his eyes leisurely, Todoroki basked in the sunlight.

A short buzz in Todoroki’s pocket interrupted his musings, and he pulled his phone out.   Midoriya Izuku , the screen read.  Speaking of broken bones...

As Todoroki typed in his passcode, another buzz rattled the phone, also courtesy of Midoriya Izuku .  A perfectly suitable contact name, intentionally dull so as not to raise any suspicion.  Kirishima had more than provided a cautionary tale last year, when Ashido had discovered that his contact name for Bakugou was “BakuuuBabe”, accompanied by a rather unfortunate string of emojis (the water droplets especially stood out).   For nearly a month, a chorus of “Bakuuu!”s chimed whenever Bakugou entered a room or hallway, like some occult ritual.  

A couple charred streaks remained on the hallway floors to this day.  Needless to say, Todoroki wasn’t about to go putting Midoriya’s contact as ‘light of my life’, ‘reason green is my favorite color’, or any of those other intrusive thoughts that spun right ‘round like a record through Todoroki’s head whenever he was around the boy.   Midoriya Izuku was proper, professional.

(Midoriya Izuku somehow still managed to send a pleasant chill up Todoroki’s spine.)

>> hey man, u still wanna join us or should we just go ahead and start ? 

 Todoroki glanced at the time, 10:37.  Ah, he was running late.  The unofficial little “Men of Class 1-A Weekend Workout Squad” (or “Swole Team 6,” as Kirishima called it) usually started an hour or so before lunch.

 << Count me in, if nobody minds waiting.  I should be back on campus in half an hour.

 >> great !!    Midoriya replied almost immediately.    see u there, Freezer Burn :) 

 ‘Freezer Burn’, huh?  That was a new one.

It really was a beautiful day, so Todoroki let the butterflies flit freely within him as he basked in the sun at the train stop.  He liked when Midoriya called him nicknames.  Or called him his real name.  Or looked Todoroki’s way in general.  It didn't take much, with Midoriya.

The breeze smelled like roses.

A couple minutes passed, and the train pulled into the station, rumbling to a halt.  The doors slid open, revealing an angry couple, screeching hysterically.  The warmth of the sun dissipated as Todoroki boarded and found a seat, as far from the racket as possible. Todoroki sighed - the peace had been nice while it lasted.

“Don’t even try giving me that bullshit again, Subaru!”  some lady was yelling, her eyes cocooned in black eyeliner and long nails glittering in the fluorescent light.  “I’ve seen the way you look at her, it’s like a dog drooling over a piece of meat.  Or its own vomit.  You’re disgusting, Subaru, a fucking disgrace!”

A man - presumably Subaru - threw his arms up in frustration.  “For the last time, Mitsubishi, I told you that she’s just a friend.  I’d hang out with any of my friends at 3 am, that’s no big deal!  In fact, I’d love to go out late with you, but you insist on sleeping before midnight, like some senior citizen.”

“Yeah, so I love sleeping.  Sue me!”  Mitsubishi was really fuming now - it reminded Todoroki of someone, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.  “At least I do it alone.  Unlike you, you fuck!”

Bakugou!  The answer clicked in Todoroki’s head.  That’s who Mitsubishi reminded him of.  It must be the homicide in her eyes.

“T-that’s ridi- I can’t believe you’d say-!”  Subaru stammered.  “Mitsubishi, I would never.”

A wicked smile uncoiled across glossy red lips.  “Is that so?  Then why don’t we make ourselves 100% certain?”

Dread eclipsed Subaru’s face, and he began backpedaling both literally and figuratively, retreating into Todoroki’s personal space.  Great.  “N-now, there’s no need for extremes, babe.  Have I mentioned how sexy you look in that lipstick color?  Why would I ever even look at another girl when I have you!”

“Let’s find out,” Mitsubishi menaced, eyes positively sparking with ill-intent as she stretched out a hand towards her (soon to be ex, in Todoroki’s opinion) boyfriend.  Her expression was downright murderous - had Bakugou mentioned having an aunt in the area?

Any musings surrounding Mitsubishi and possible relation to Bakugou were dispelled as Todoroki felt his phone vibrating on his knee.  Midoriya Izuku.  Ahhh.  Todoroki put the phone up to his ear.  “Hello, Midor--”

Three things then happened at once.  

1)  The train cabin shuddered suddenly without warning.  

2)  Mitsubishi, caught off guard, lost her balance, desperately grabbing Todoroki’s shoulder in order to stay upright.

3)  A violent bolt of nausea crackled through Todoroki, and his head swam painfully.

Thankfully, the train returned to its original course as quickly as it had left it.  Todoroki’s stomach smoothly unwound, the nausea disappearing completely.  He breathed heavily, eyebrows knit in confusion as he rubbed his shoulder where Mitsubishi had speared him with her nails.   What the hell was that about?  Had he eaten something bad?

A loud gasp tore Todoroki from his thoughts.  Mitsubishi looked downright horrified, her hands slapping over her mouth.  “Oh shit, shit, shit!  Fuck, do you feel sick at- hey, wait.”  Her heavily outlined eyes popped even wider, if possible.  “Are you that Todoroki kid, from U.A.?”

“Yes,” Todoroki replied, curiously quickly.  He normally tried to avoid drawing attention in public.

“Oh, I see you all over Twitter!  You were so cool in the sports festival last year - I was totally rooting for you, by the way.”  Mitsubishi beamed widely, a small blotch of lipstick disrupting the glare of her white teeth.  Todoroki nodded weakly.  To think, just a minute ago he had been calling her a relative of Bakugou.  

Still smiling unnaturally wide, Mitsubishi beat a hasty retreat.  Subaru, for his part, looked even more horrified than before.  He opened his mouth, but Mitsubishi sent him another Bakugou glare, yanking her thumb and pointer across her lips harshly in the universal ‘zip your lips’ gesture.  

Todoroki frowned.  What was that about?  And wait, what was up with that whole nausea thing?

Todoroki opened his mouth to inquire as such, but Midoriya chose that moment to conduct his own questioning.  “Todoroki?  Are you there?  You stopped replying!”

The warm crackle of Midoriya’s voice, as always, quickly monopolized all of Todoroki’s brainpower, and soon enough, all thoughts of Mitsubishi and possible food poisoning had vanished.

“Yeah, I’m here.  Sorry, the train got a little bumpy for a second…”

Todoroki exited the train station as carefree as he had entered it.  It really was a beautiful day.  

An hour later, Todoroki walked into the men’s locker room, a towel and water bottle in tow.

“Hey, bro!”  Kirishima looked up from where he was tying his shoes, grinning.  “Glad you decided to come!”  

“Of course,”  Todoroki replied a bit awkwardly, unsure of what to say.  Kirishima always greeted him like it was Todoroki’s first time working out with them, while in reality he attended nearly every week.  Todoroki had actually been one of the founding members of the group (along with Midoriya and Iida), despite actually preferring to exercise alone.  

Working out in groups was great, is all.  Very important for both mind and body, building camaraderie.  And if Todoroki had had an ulterior motive for forming Swole Team 6, then nobody had to know.  

“Took you fucking long enough to get here, asshole,” Bakugou grumbled with a scowl, and in retrospect, Mitsubishi’s harshest expressions seemed downright welcoming.

“I’m so glad you could make it!”  Midoriya, the ulterior motive himself, beamed.  “Taking the train can be such a pain.”

Todoroki only allowed his mind to dwell on gooey thoughts concerning green hair and bright eyes for a moment before he forcibly ejected them.  “Thanks for waiting.  So, what are we doing today?”

Iida raised his hand and sprung upright.  “I would like to present an idea!  Last night, I had a dream about Mr. Aizawa, and--” 

“--Wow, how scandalous of our very own class president!  I never knew you liked older men, Iida,”  Kaminari interrupted, waggling his eyebrows.  

Iida glared at Kaminari sternly, adjusting his glasses.  “Not that kind of dream.  Which should go without saying.”  Another pointed glare.  “In it, I forgot to turn in a large assignment, and Mr. Aizawa erased my quirk forever as punishment.”  Iida shuddered.  “It was an unpleasant dream.  However, I began thinking about my abilities without my quirk, and I realized I’d like to work on my hand to hand combat skills without quirks.”  

“That’s not a bad idea,”  Tokoyami nodded.  “We should always be prepared for scenarios where our quirks are disabled.  Darkness surely lurks behind every corner.”  

The entire locker room chimed in agreement, collectively ignoring Tokoyami’s last comment.  Kaminari pulled a die from his pocket.  “We can use this to pair up.”

“Why..are you carrying around a die?”   Midoriya asked.

“I use them to do magic tricks,”  Kaminari winked.  “The ladies love them.”

Todoroki wasn’t so sure.  

After a couple minutes, the group had split up.  Todoroki ended up paired with Midoriya - of course he did.  Why would the universe ever cut him a break, especially when his self-control was already on the wobbly side, crippled by changing in the same room as Midoriya?  Sparring with his crush was a double-edged sword if ever one was forged, and there was no way he’d escape without any nicks.

“Hey, partner,”  Midoriya jogged over to Todoroki.  “This will be great training, don't you think?”

“I think. Yes, I do,”  Todoroki babbled, a little thrown off by Midoriya’s radiance, then wanted to die when he realized what he'd said.  God, there was no way he'd survive this, at this rate.  The sword was already unsheathed.   

Yet, impossibly, with 15 minutes past, Todoroki had managed to avoid any overtly self-incriminating actions.  The sparring session couldn't make up its mind between rapture and torture.  

A pro:  Midoriya unconsciously licking his lips in concentration.

A con:  Todoroki taking a hit every time Midoriya unconsciously licked his lips in concentration.

Pro:  getting to ogle Midoriya’s neck when he tossed his head back to drink water.

Con:  resisting the urge to kiss Midoriya’s neck when he tossed his head back to drink water.

Pro:  falling on top of Midoriya on more than one occasion, their bodies pressed close.  

Con:  desperately reciting mathematical formulas in his head to avoid a more, ahem, prominent reaction when Todoroki fell on top of Midoriya, their bodies pressed close.

Pro:  practicing hand-to-hand combat technique, one of Todoroki’s rustier skills.

Con:  Todoroki was not focusing on his hand-to-hand combat technique, one of his rustier skills.

Stars twinkled in Todoroki’s skull as Midoriya landed a particularly nasty right hook - Aoyama would have been delighted.  

“C-crap, Todoroki, I didn’t mean to hit you that hard!”  Midoriya’s eyebrows were knit in concern.  “Does it hurt?”

“No” , Todoroki lied - or at least tried to.  Somehow, the word wouldn’t come out.  Todoroki frowned.  “No”, he said, more firmly.  Still, nothing came out but a raspy exhale.  

Something akin to panic began rising in Todoroki.  Had the punch fucked with his vocal chords?  There was no way, right?!  He was just overreacting.  

Midoriya, meanwhile, was wringing his hands anxiously.  “T-todoroki?  Oh my god.  Please don’t tell me I gave you a concussion.  Do you feel alright?”

Crap, he hadn’t meant to worry Midoriya.  Todoroki took a deep breath, forcibly calming himself.  Just say ‘Yes.’  He took one last deep exhale, focused, and…

An empty huff croaked out of Todoroki as agony suddenly cracked through his skull, and nausea slammed his body like a [door in Paranormal Activity].  Holy fuck, was he having an aneurysm?  Todoroki groaned as a fresh wave of pain bowled him over, his head on the verge of imploding.  

Midoriya appeared to be panicking, grabbing Todoroki’s shoulders.  Todoroki yelped again, his side splitting.  Fucking hell, he could hardly even see Midoriya through this haze in his head.  His stomach tweaked in all the wrong ways.  

“No!” Todoroki shouted desperately, completely involuntarily.  Midoriya’s eyes, all watery, widened in confusion at his outburst.  “No, I don’t feel ‘alright’.”

And just like that, all traces of pain vanished.  What the hell?!  

“Todoroki?  S-shouto?”  Midoriya’s voice and eyes wobbled in unison.  “Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” Todoroki whispered, with complete ease.  Huh?  Unease settled in Todoroki’s bones.  He had absolutely no idea what was happening to him.  

Absently, Todoroki caught a vague scent of smoke, and a breeze tickled his side.  Shit, he must have partially singed through his shirt because of the pain.

“Do you feel stable?”  Midoriya implored, hands tightening their grip on Todoroki’s shoulders.  

“Yes,”  Todoroki replied again, perfectly fine.  

“Oh my god, thank heavens,” Midoriya sobbed, wrapping Todoroki in a desperate hug.  Todoroki could feel the boy’s heart pounding through his charred shirt, which was, well… If Todoroki didn’t feel so freaked out, he certainly would’ve ascended to cloud 9 by now.  

“I’m so, so sorry, Todoroki!”  Midoriya squeezed him even tighter, hands balling up against Todoroki’s back.  “Y-you just normally dodge those right hooks, and I banked on that and put too much force into it, and then you started grabbing your head and smoking and curling up and oh my god it was so terrifying, and I’m so sorry, and I would never ever hit you that hard on purpose, you know that right??”  

Todoroki nodded, Midoriya’s soft hair tickling his chin.  He focused on the warm, solid body pressed up against his and melted into the embrace, pulse relaxing.  Whatever the hell that episode had been, it was over now.  

Except-- the beginnings of a headache began unfurling in Todoroki’s temples and he stiffened.  As soon as he opened his mouth to suck in a nervous breath, however, he found himself murmuring “Of course I know that, Izuku” into Midoriya’s hair.  

Todoroki’s burgeoning headache dissipated as his confusion returned in full force.  He hadn’t meant to say that, even though it was true.  And wait, had he just called Midoriya ‘Izuku’?

A slight flush rose in Todoroki.  He really hadn’t meant to say that.  What was happening to him?!  Maybe I do have a concussion...    

Todoroki broke the hug, taking a few tentative steps back.  He still didn’t entirely trust his body to not belly flop into a swimming pool of agony at any moment.

Specks of ash from Todoroki’s shirt stuck to Midoriya’s own.  The boy picked at them absently.  “You, uh, did you just call me ‘Izuku’?”

“Ah, um, yes.”  Todoroki flushed further.  “I wasn't thinking.  I'm sorry.”

“No, no!”  Midoriya’s hands waved in protest.  “It's..nice.  You should call me Izuku all the time.”  

“Huh?”  Todoroki breathed, quite eloquently.    

“I said,”  oh man, apparently it was now Midoriya’s turn to glow bright red,  “that you should call me Izuku.  If you want.”

“Oh,” Todoroki replied, lamely. “I do want to. And call me Shouto. -only if you want to.  Too.”

“Whatever you say, Shouto,” Midoriya grinned, and began gathering his things. “I think we’ve done enough for today. I'll see you at lunch!”

“Yeah. See you.”  

Midoriya looked expectant.  Oh.  “...Izuku.”

The name melted pleasantly in Todoroki’s mouth, like cotton candy, and Midoriya bounced on his heels.

“And just so you know-”

Todoroki paused with his water bottle halfway to his face, glancing at Midoriya.

“Just so you know,” Midoriya repeated, eyes flickering down.  “You should, uh, put on another shirt before lunch. Yeah. Bye!”

Midoriya left, and Todoroki looked down at his tattered top, only half remaining.

The walk back to the locker room was occupied by Todoroki berating himself for allowing himself to think that Midoriya’s cheeks had glowed ever-so-brighter with his parting comment.

If wishes were fishes, Todoroki could open a goddamn aquarium.

Back in the locker room, Todoroki mindlessly slipped on a fresh shirt, as if his brain had subconsciously labeled Midoriya’s suggestion as it's top priority.  

It wasn't far fetched.  

Todoroki’s stomach surged softly as his mind replayed his inexplicable agony earlier, and a cold sweat broke out over his sweaty skin.

Too freaked out to shower just yet, Todoroki collapsed onto a sink in the locker room, knuckles white as they clenched the porcelain.  What’s wrong with me?  How can the headaches appear and disappear so quickly?

Mismatched eyes found themselves in the mirror, and Todoroki stared intensely at the glass, imploring his own reflection for answers.

Does the pain only activate with questions, like some strange cousin of Shinsou’s quirk?  But the pain only happened twice, and Izuku definitely asked more than two questions.

Unfortunately, Todoroki’s reflection seemed just as confused as he was, and offered no solutions.  The glass fogged as Todoroki sighed in frustration.

Is it even the work of a quirk in the first place?  I could just be getting random headaches...  Midoriya did hit me pretty hard.

“Checking yourself out, Todoroki?”  Kirishima’s grinning face joined Todoroki’s in the mirror, creating a pretty decent rendition of the comedy/tragedy mask.  Todoroki stiffened - he hadn’t heard his classmate enter and wasn’t quite in the mood for conversation.  

“I, I wasn’t checking myself out.”  Todoroki felt the strange urge to clarify.  Thankfully, no tendrils of pain began unfurling in his head.  So it's not question-based?

“Sure you weren’t,”  Kirishima grinned even wider.  “Besides, I’m pretty sure that the entire rest of the class has got that covered.  Hell, more like the entire rest of the country.”

Well that was...generous.  “Thanks?”

“Don’t mention it, Pretty Boy.”  Kirishima crowded closer to Todoroki in the mirror, eyes scanning Todoroki’s reflection.  “Damn dude, speaking of that iconic face, what the hell happened to your jaw?  That’s shaping up to be quite the bruise.”

Ah, Kirishima was right - only then did Todoroki notice the throbbing along his jawline.  “I accidentally let my guard down during Midoriya and I’s spar.  It was a stupid mistake.”

Kirishima clapped an arm around Todoroki’s shoulders.  “Don’t be too hard on yourself there, Stud Muffin, everybody loves a guy with some battle scars.  It shows moxie.  Besides, I know exactly what you're talking about.”  Kirishima winked.

Todoroki simply nodded, a bit lost.  

“So tell me, Hot Stuff - or should it be Cold Stuff?  I’m gonna go with Lukewarm Stuff.  So tell me, Lukewarm Stuff, just what did Midoriya do to cost you that bruise?”  He winked again.  Kirishima seemed to like winking.  “My bet is he got hot and took his shirt off.”  

Speaking of getting hot, the air in the room suddenly felt quite oven-like, and Todoroki desperately battled three scrapbooks’ worth of mental images.  Midoriya did tend to shed clothing when warm, a fact that reflected quite poorly on Todoroki’s faint, gay heart.  

Todoroki gripped the sink even tighter, refusing to encourage Kirishima with an answer.  

Kirishima bulldozed on, encouraged.  “Don’t worry, man, there's no shame here.  I of all people understand the deadly combo of shirtlessness and sweat.  It’ll really get ya.  For a while I’d nearly turn Katsuki down if he asked to spar because I knew I'd end up ogling and leave with a game of connect-the-bruises across my body.”  Kirishima hummed.  “Plus he's just really fucking good at hand-to-hand.”

Todoroki didn’t even have a chance to become flustered before that terrifying, now-familiar flutter of nausea laced through his gut.  His jaw throbbed as he grit his teeth in apprehension.

Kirishima seemed to notice his unease.  “Woah, dude, I’m sorry if I went a little too far there.  I really am!”  The nausea grew, becoming just this side of excruciating.  “In my own dumbass way, I was just trying to let you know that I’ve been in your situation and I’d be more than happy to-”

“His pants were tight!”  Todoroki spit out, feeling the nausea recede.  “Midoriya was wearing these ridiculous pants that started clinging everywhere when he sweat, and…”  

A palm swung up to stop Todoroki.  “Say no more, Dreamboat.  We’re more than on the same wavelength.  Katsuki likes to wear these thin tank tops that really fuck me up.”  Kirishima sighed fondly.  “In a good way.”

The mirror, helpfully, supplied Todoroki with knowledge of just how lost he looked, and Kirishima blessedly took mercy.

“I'm oversharing, aren't I?”  He scratched his neck sheepishly.  

Flatly:  “Yes.”

“That's my bad.  Again, I just want you to know that I've been there, and I get it.  I know you like Midoriya for way more than that sort of thing, don't worry.  Mind above the gutter, yeah?”

Todoroki opened his mouth to demand how Kirshima had figured him out, to deflect, to agree - practically anything except what actually came out.  “Not all of the time, no.  I fantasize about Midoriya quite regularly, sometimes even in my dreams.”  

Oh god, oh hell no.  Why did he keep saying stuff like this, stuff that was way too...personal?  And true, disgustingly true.  Kirishima, bless him, just laughed awkwardly.

Todoroki turned red and away from Kirishima, snatching up his things.  “I’m.  I'll be in my room.  Alright bye.”

Kirishima didn't even protest.

Outside of the locker room, Todoroki collapsed against the wall, clutching his water bottle to his heaving chest.

Just what - to reiterate - the actual fuck was going on?

Thanks for reading!  :D

[dotshiiki]

CoL, chpt 6

VI: ANNABETH

Annabeth turned the page of the book in front of her. The first sentence on the new page didn't make any sense. A few seconds later, she turned back to the previous page, realising that she hadn't really taken any of it in. If only the book was in Greek. It would have made reading so much easier. Then again, at least Latin was better than English.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been in the library already; long enough that the words were beginning to blur before her eyes.

She'd begged Reyna to get her a pass to the senate library—the greatest treasure trove of knowledge that New Rome had to offer—and since receiving it, she'd spent practically every waking hour here, waiting by the entrance at opening time and leaving only when the custodian chased her out at night. She'd cut classes and even missed an assignment deadline, but she didn't care. She could catch up on stuff she missed at school, retake the module next semester if need be.

But if she didn't find a solution to help Percy…

Everyone had a different opinion about it. Jason's advice was to give him space, that telling Percy too much would just overwhelm him. He'd told Annabeth about the confusion he'd felt when he'd awoken on the Wilderness School bus with everyone having Mist-induced false memories about him.

'Everyone was trying to push these memories on me and I knew it didn't feel right. It was especially hard with Piper expecting something from me. Even though I liked her, I just couldn't let myself get close to her.'

It was sensible advice and Annabeth was trying to follow it, trying not to push too much on Percy too soon. It wasn't easy, though, when everything she said or did was so entwined with him. She hadn't even realised how automatically she filled in his sentences, or referenced things they'd done together. Not until he winced or pulled away every time she did it.

Frank thought showing Percy places that had been important to him would make an impact, but so far none of their regular haunts in New Rome had jogged Percy's memory. Hazel felt he needed to get back into a routine and she'd gotten him back at the university, except he'd completely overhauled his course load. Piper thought they should just have faith that Percy's memories would eventually return on their own, but the thought of waiting, doing nothing, was simply untenable. Annabeth had even contacted Chiron, who had warned her that it was possible Percy would never remember the past.

'Maybe it would be better to forge a new future,' her old mentor told her gently.

But Annabeth couldn't let it be. Beyond how badly it hurt when Percy looked at her like she was a stranger, the clincher was the Iris-message conversation they'd had with his family a few days ago. The way he'd recoiled when Tyson had appeared in the rainbow, making the big guy's eye well up with tears; the brave look on Sally's face that barely masked the pain when her son didn't recognise her.

Annabeth had promised Sally she would fix it, and she was determined to do so.

After all, it had been her fault: Percy had gotten in the way of an attack on her. And it was her nepenthe recipe that had gotten him lost and captured by that damn empousa.

Annabeth fingered the bronze pendant in her pocket, a spoil of war she'd ended up with after she'd stabbed the empousa in Phoenix. She had no logical use for it, but she'd kept it for some reason. She kept carrying it with her like it might point her to an answer.

So far, it hadn't.

A shadow fell over her, blocking the light. Annabeth looked up to see Reyna standing before her, concern stamped across her face.

'Annabeth, you need a break.'

'I need to find an answer,' Annabeth insisted.

Reyna shook her head and put her hands on the book, covering the page Annabeth was trying to read. 'I bet you aren't even absorbing whatever you're reading any more.'

Annabeth wanted to protest, but Reyna was right. She'd read the paragraph on the page at least three times and she still couldn't say what it was about.

'Lay off the research for the afternoon,' Reyna said. 'Come have coffee with me.' When Annabeth didn't agree right away, Reyna raised her eyebrows. 'Don't forget who got you your library pass.'

Annabeth raised her hands in surrender and let Reyna march her out into the bright sunshine.

OoOoO

If there was one thing cafés in New Rome did well, it was coffee. But Annabeth barely tasted hers that afternoon.

'Earth to Annabeth,' Reyna said, waving a hand in front of her.

'Huh?' Annabeth sat her cup down in its saucer.

'You're still thinking about Percy, aren't you? You seriously need to get your mind off him. I know what it's like to get too focused on a problem. You'll just end up going in circles around it.'

'I can't help it,' Annabeth said. 'You don't know how awful it is. It's like, when we pass each other in the apartment, he can't even look at me. And I know he wants his memories back, but he needs it to come from himself, not from us. He doesn't even trust me any more.' Her voice cracked on the last sentence. This was it, the real reason she couldn't just let things be and start again from scratch with Percy.

He wasn't starting from a clean slate. That damn empousa had fed him a pack of lies and now the sum of his experience was being lied to and tricked. It was no wonder he was suspicious of everything anyone said to him. She would have been, in his position. But it also meant that one of his most endearing qualities, the one that annoyed her no end sometimes, but which she still loved so much about him, had been lost.

Percy was the kid who had trusted Tyson and Bob the Titan and seen the best in them. The man who was willing to give people the benefit of the doubt, a chance to prove themselves. Seeing him look at everyone now like they were his enemy unless proven otherwise—it broke her heart.

'I worry that if we don't fix this, he won't be Percy any more. He'll be…I don't know. Perseus. This bitter guy who thinks the world is out to get him.' Her breath hitched as she said it, remembering another friend whom she had lost that way.

Would Percy become like Luke—cold, bitter, and angry? She knew Percy held the same potential for darkness inside of him. She'd seen glimpses of it before. But his faith in others had always overpowered his dark side.

'He's in one of my classes, you know,' Reyna said. 'Greek mythology.'

'Seriously?'

'Yeah. It's a rubbish class—I took it thinking it'd be good to know more, what with the exchange programme and stuff, but the lecturer's crap. I was going to drop it, but now that Percy's in it, maybe I'll stick around and keep an eye on him.'

'Would you?'

'Sure. Though I don't think he trusts me any more than you. The first day he came to class, he saw me but he went straight to the other side of the room. I guess he thought I was trouble.' Reyna's mouth twisted in a wry smile. 'He still has good instincts.'

Annabeth managed a short laugh. 'Still, at least you can see how he's doing. it's hard for me to keep tabs on him while trying to give him space at the same time. I really want to know how he's coping with everything, but I'm starting to feel like a stalker every time I check up on him.'

They finished their coffee and Annabeth noticed for the first time that hers tasted off. 'There was milk in this,' she said, frowning.

Reyna laughed. 'You took my latte by accident and you didn't even realise.'

'Oh my gods, I'm sorry!'

'It's fine. Looks like you need more than just a coffee break. I was thinking of going to the sword-fighting arena for some practice. You should come. I could do with a decent sparring partner.'

Annabeth traced the rim of her coffee cup. 'I don't know. I should get back to the—'

'If you say library, I'm going to deck you. When was the last time you got some practice in?'

'Well, I didn't have any phys ed credits this term because I couldn't squeeze them in with all my electives, so Percy and I were just keeping up practice on our own. Except the last two weeks, he's been…'

Reyna nodded. 'You're definitely coming with me, then.'

OoOoO

There was a class going on that afternoon so the sword-fighting arena was crowded with students doing practice rounds with wooden swords, but there was one field free. Annabeth and Reyna claimed it and started with a warm-up round, sparring lightly with no serious attempt at attack, just getting into the rhythm of things. Annabeth's drakon-bone sword met Reyna's Imperial gold blade with a satisfying clang. Her focus narrowed to her footwork, her thrusts, and the movements of her opponent. She let her instincts take over, pushing her worries and stress out of her mind.

Reyna was right. She needed this release.

'Ready to go?' Reyna asked.

Annabeth nodded, looking forward to the match now. Sparring with Reyna was always a challenge since they were usually quite well-matched, having both been one of the best their respective camps had to offer.

Just as they took their positions, Annabeth happened to glance over at the other students. The instructor had evidently directed their attention towards Annabeth and Reyna, probably using them as a handy demonstration. Annabeth's eyes travelled over the gathered students and her gaze fell on a thin face framed with the shock of black hair that she would know anywhere.

Percy was here.

Reyna's blow almost caught her unawares. Annabeth parried at the last minute and nearly stumbled, her footwork clumsy in her distraction. She heard gasps from the watching students and gritted her teeth, angry at her own lapse in concentration. She threw herself back into the fight, but Reyna was too skilled for her to overcome such an egregious early error. She went down embarrassingly quickly.

To her credit, Reyna didn't talk down to her with a 'good one!' or any display of sympathy. 'Come on, Chase,' she said, 'that was rubbish.'

'Sorry,' Annabeth said. 'Again?'

They exchanged positions and bowed. This time, Annabeth threw herself into the match, pushing Percy out of her mind completely. She used every battle reflex she possessed, cataloguing Reyna's approach and strike style, matching every blow with her own thrusts and parries. Her footwork was quick and steady. About a minute in, she found her opening and struck at the base of Reyna's sword, using a twist that Luke had taught her a long time ago.

The Imperial gold weapon clattered out of Reyna's hand. Annabeth lunged forward and pressed the point of her sword to Reyna's chest.

'Yield!'

Reyna raised her hands in surrender. Annabeth withdrew her sword. She was breathing hard and sweating, but her head no longer felt tight and tense.

There was a smattering of applause from the watching students and their instructor. They dispersed to the other fields to practice, but Percy hung back. He had a speculative look on his face, his eyes scrunched up as they always did when he was contemplating something. She thought for a second—hoped, maybe—that he might come forward to speak to them, but then he retreated and re-joined his group.

It stung, but there was something else about it. Something in the way he looked at her jogged a distant memory—thirteen-year-old Percy scrunching up his face in concentration as he tried to learn something she was teaching him. Constellations, maybe? No, planets—she'd been teaching him a mnemonic to put them in order: My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas.

'I can definitely remember that one,' Percy had said. 'I just have to remember that there's nine of them.'

'Well, think of it this way: it's a mnemonic, and Mnemosyne gave birth to the nine Muses,' she'd told him.

One of the passages she'd read in the library earlier drifted into her mind: Asclepius and Mnemosyne were often linked in prayer, invoking the process of memory in healing.

Mnemosyne, the Titaness of memory. Wasn't there a myth about her pool in Hades? Something about drinking from two springs at the same time…

'Oh my gods,' Annabeth said.

'What?' Reyna asked.

'I know where to look. The answer was at home all along.'

'What are you talking about?'

'The nepenthe—the potion we made for Percy. There must have been a missing ingredient, but I didn't realise, because it was from a different source! Reyna—thank you. You were right, this helped. But I need to go now.'

She had to find Nico di Angelo.

OoOoO

Annabeth pulled on her jacket. It was a warm night, especially for October, but she expected the Underworld might be chilly. Maybe. It had been a long time since she'd been there.

Unless you counted Tartarus, which she didn't. Anyone who'd been there could testify that it was a whole different realm from Hades's kingdom.

Hope had been fluttering like a wild bird in her chest since Nico had agreed to take her. She'd pulled out every source she could find on the Mnemosyne—some said it was a pool; others a spring, or a river—and there was even an entire religion based upon it. Although she hadn't managed to connect it definitively to the nepenthe, that recipe had been a closely guarded secret. It made sense that Helen of Troy hadn't penned all the ingredients—maybe she'd even left out the key one to mislead others.

She wondered if she should tell Percy what she was doing. She didn't want to get his hopes up, though. Maybe after they visited Mnemosyne, if they got their answers, if it really worked…well, they'd have to get him to drink it, ultimately. Would he trust them enough to try?

But she'd worry about that later, after they succeeded.

Just as she was about to leave the apartment, Percy emerged from his room.

'Annabeth?'

She blinked in surprise. It was the last thing she'd expected. Percy hadn't initiated a conversation with her since they'd brought him back from Arizona.

'Um,' she said stupidly. 'Yeah?'

'I was, er…' His face scrunched up again, making a familiar crease in his forehead. Annabeth resisted the urge to reach out and smooth it with her thumb. 'I saw you fighting today.'

'Oh.' Annabeth wasn't sure how to respond. Should she mention that she had noticed him?

'You're really good.'

'Thanks. You're actually not bad yourself.' The words came out before she could bite them back. She winced. Once again, she'd dropped more information about him—information he'd been solidly rejecting when it came from her.

Percy ignored her slip, though. 'Um, I have a favour to ask.' He reached into his pocket and brought out a pen she knew well.

Riptide. She hadn't seen it since the fight with Hipponoe.

Percy fiddled with the cap, but didn't flick it off. Probably a good thing. Terminus had long since given up on making Percy deposit it at the city boundaries—nothing really stopped it from reforming in his pocket—but he'd come down harder than Zeus's master bolt if he caught Percy uncapping it inside the Pomerian line. 'I thought maybe you could teach me how to use a sword.'

'Oh,' Annabeth said again. Her heart, already aflutter with hope at finding a cure for Percy's memory loss, went completely insane.

'Look, you don't have to if you don't want to,' Percy said quickly. 'It's just that, I wasn't really getting much from my class today, and I thought I might as well make the most of living with a real sword-fighting pro.'

'No, I mean, yes, I can teach you.' She tried not to sound too eager. 'Tomorrow?'

'Cool,' he said. 'Um. Later, then.'

Annabeth smiled. 'See you later, Percy.'

It wasn't until she got to the barracks to meet Nico that she realised it was the first time he hadn't corrected her for calling him Percy instead of Perseus.

Warmth spread from her heart throughout her chest. It was a step.

OoOoO

'I hope this works,' said Nico, squinting at the cave system on the western edge of the Underworld. 'Percy's weird as Perseus.'

'I hope so, too.'

'I think that's the one,' he said, pointing. Annabeth couldn't see how this particular cave was different from the others, but Nico probably knew best. They approached the entrance, carved into the dark volcanic rock. The temperature dipped ten degrees when they crossed the threshold. Annabeth shivered, glad she'd thought to bring her jacket.

The pool lay in a round depression at the centre of the cave. At its edge was a series of altars, ten in total, all made of pure white marble and each bearing a flame. Their flickering light danced over the surface of the pool, creating shadows that shifted continuously in its depths. The middle altar was the highest, shaped like a jagged mountaintop. The others each bore a different carved symbol: a writing tablet, a flute, a lyre, a wreath of myrtle. At the second-last altar, represented by a bugle, a girl wearing a Greek chiton, laced boots, and an ivy wreath in her wispy hair was tending the fire.

'Mnemosyne?' Annabeth asked.

'Great Olympus, no!' said the girl, shuddering. 'Please don't mistake me for my mom. That's like, gross.'

'Sorry. You must be—'

She turned to them with an impish look on her round face. 'Thalia. Muse of comedy, at your service. Are either of you looking for a good laugh?'

'Not particularly,' Nico said. 'We're looking for your mother.'

'What do you want with her? Seriously, she's boring. And old.'

'Aren't you like three thousand years old?' Annabeth pointed out.

'Yeah, but mom's three thousand and thirty.'

'Thalia!' Mnemosyne emerged, sliding out of a crevice in the cave wall that Annabeth hadn't even noticed. 'I should snip off your disrespectful tongue.'

Thalia poked the offending appendage at her mother. Mnemosyne crossed her arms and stared at Annabeth and Nico. Unlike her plump daughter, she was tall and thin, with thick bronze hair. Her expression was the very definition of resting bitch face: grumpy pursed lips and bored-looking eyes.

'Son of Hades,' she noted, 'and a daughter of Athena. Well, what do you need to remember?'

'How did you know—'

Mnemosyne rolled her eyes. 'Everyone who comes here wants to remember something. That's all anyone prays to me for now. Time was, I'd get sacrifices for poetry and healing and clarity of vision, but noooo, now it's just "Mnemosyne, I need to remember where I put my keys," or "Mnemosyne, can you come up with a good way to memorise the periodic table?"'

'Well, you did let Calliope and Erato handle the poets,' Thalia said.

'I know that!' Mnemosyne snapped. 'I remember.'

'We're here for healing,' Annabeth said quickly. 'I know about your collaboration with Asclepius. The ancient Greeks prayed to both of you together.'

'Those were the days,' Mnemosyne agreed. 'What is it you need, then?'

'Your pool—we were hoping it would bring back lost memories.'

'Lost memories, huh?' Mnemosyne glided over to the edge of her pool. She put one finger in it and stirred the waters. The surface rippled and Annabeth saw, to her surprise, her father peering down at a baby in a golden basket. Mnemosyne stirred again and the image changed to a young Nico running hand-in-hand across a cobblestone path with an olive-skinned girl—his sister, Bianca. Nico paled and swallowed hard.

'Which one of you is searching, then?' Mnemosyne asked.

'Neither,' Annabeth said. She explained about Percy and his predicament. Mnemosyne's expression didn't change, but her eyes seemed slightly sadder.

'And you heard about the pool's power to recover memories,' Mnemosyne said. 'It's not untrue, but there's a procedure to follow.'

'Well, whatever it is, we can do it!'

Mnemosyne shook her head. 'You don't understand. This is a pool, not a river. It does not mingle with the waters of the Lethe. The only way to use my pool to retrieve memories that the Lethe has taken is to drink from it before you drink from the Lethe.'

Annabeth's heart plummeted to her knees. 'Surely there's something you can do?'

Thalia clasped her hands together. 'Come on, Mom, her story's so tragic. Let's make it happier.'

'He drank Lethe mixed with nectar,' Nico added. 'Would that change anything?'

Mnemosyne considered this for a moment. It would be better if he had drank Lethe mixed with water from the spring of memory. But perhaps…' She crossed to the centre altar and placed her hand over the burning flame. After a few seconds, a small vial materialised in it. Mnemosyne plucked it out of the fire and brought it over to Annabeth and Nico.

'This is the most purified of my pool's waters,' she said. 'Mix two parts with one part nectar and let it steep for three days. That's the most potent cure I can offer. Perhaps if your friend's memories have not yet flowed all the way to Chaos, it may work.'

Annabeth clasped the vial to her heart. 'Thank you,' she said fervently.

'Yes, well, it's nice to be asked for something more meaningful these days. One does get sick of all the prayers about rote memorisation…' She shuddered. 'Thalia, did you remember to clean your altar?'

With the abrupt change in subject, Annabeth guessed she and Nico were dismissed. As they left the cave, she heard Thalia complaining, 'Yes, mom, stop nagging.'

'Well, remember that century you neglected it?'

'Mom, that was millennia ago! And besides, Melpomene said she'd cover for me.'

'And you saw what happened—all the Greeks ever wrote from that era was tragedy.'

'I'm going to take it as a good sign that we ran into the Muse of comedy instead of the Muse of tragedy,' Nico commented.

Annabeth laughed. 'Thanks, Nico. Let's hope this works.'

OoOoO

Even without Mnemosyne's potion, things were already looking up. Percy seemed to take their agreement to practise sword-fighting as a peace offering, and their interactions at home were less stilted. He wasn't exactly opening up to Annabeth yet, but he did appear in the common areas more often, helping himself to the big pot of coffee she made in the morning and even popping into the living room for a short chat one evening when she was eating pizza and catching up on the assignments she'd neglected. They didn't speak of anything significant, just inane small talk about his day, but the fact that he'd sought her out and started the conversation…

She started to realise that the less she offered him, the more willing he was to approach her instead.

Their lessons began the day after her return from Mnemosyne's pool. Annabeth quickly realised that while Percy's memory of using Riptide was gone, his skill with the sword remained. And his natural fighting style was Greek. No wonder he hadn't felt comfortable with the Roman instructor's teaching.

By their second day of training, Annabeth was already starting to feel challenged sparring with Percy. Every move she'd shown him, he'd picked up with ease. It didn't take an afternoon for him to move past competency to proficiency.

On the third day, Mnemosyne's potion was ready.

They both had class in the afternoon, so they'd agreed to have their lesson in the morning. Percy came down to the kitchen looking a little bleary-eyed and poured himself a mug of coffee. He took a gulp and made a face.

'Out of milk today?'

'Oh, sorry,' she said. 'I did it the usual way.'

'The usual way?'

'I like my coffee black,' she explained.

'But you've been making it with milk…' His face closed off, and Annabeth realised her mistake. She'd been making him coffee the way he liked it—the way she knew he liked it.

It didn't seem to matter how many concessions she consciously made—removing her stuff from his room, letting him make the first move, even taking off her camp necklace so he wouldn't see something they shared—she'd more easily cut off her own arm than succeed at cutting Percy out of her soul.

'Perseus,' she said, hoping the use of the name he favoured now would signal a compromise. 'Before we go for training, I need to tell you something.'

His expression was guarded. 'What is it?'

Annabeth explained about her and Nico's visit to Mnemosyne and the potion they'd made from the pool.

'It might be what you need to bring your memories back. Your memories, not something we've told you or what the empousa planted in your head.'

'A drink,' he said. And then, more wistfully, 'My memories.'

'It might not work,' Annabeth warned him, although she was banking everything on its success. 'Mnemosyne said that if your memories have gone out to Chaos, they're really gone. But this was the most potent memory cure she could give us. I—I hope you'll try it.'

A deep crease appeared between Percy's eyebrows. 'You're not gonna make me drink it?'

'They're your memories, aren't they?' Annabeth said in surprise. 'It's your decision.'

Percy looked her in the eye, a long searching gaze. Finally, he said, 'Okay, what the heck. Let's try this thing.'

Annabeth's heart pounded as she passed him the flask where they'd mixed Mnemosyne's potion. After taking a deep breath, Percy downed it in one gulp.

They waited thirty seconds, a minute, two. The air hung heavy in the room, weighted with expectation. Annabeth's hope was like a balloon, rising slowly through its density. Any moment now…

Then Percy said, 'I don't feel any different.'

'Do you remember—?'

'No,' he said bitterly. 'Nothing.'

Annabeth's balloon of hope exploded into hot, stinging disappointment that coursed miserably through her veins. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she made herself hold them back. If Percy was still Perseus—and it seemed like he would be from now on—the worst thing she could do was show how much it affected her.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I really hoped it would help.'

In the silence, Annabeth wondered what he was thinking. If it had been her Percy, she would have guessed that he was worrying about how she felt about it. But Perseus was different—and he didn't care about her.

At last he said, 'It was worth a shot.' He gave her a tentative smile. 'Thanks for trying.'

Annabeth nodded. 'Well,' she said, casting about for a change of subject, 'I can still teach you swordplay.'

Percy seemed to throw everything he had into the lesson that day. He mastered each move nearly as quickly as she could demonstrate it. When they got to their end-of-session match, it was like fighting Reyna, except harder. With Reyna, if Annabeth could recognise the pattern and style she was using, she could anticipate her opponent's moves and counter them. Percy fought the way he always had: with a wild unpredictability that took all of Annabeth's best reflexes to meet.

It thrilled her. This was the way they had always sparred, a dance that kept her continually on her toes. It was the duel they'd repeated time and again since they were kids at Camp Half-Blood, a familiar tango that, truth be hold, was a huge turn-on for her. Percy's green eyes were alert and bright, his face so alive as he slashed and struck and countered and parried. He wasn't even fighting using her instructions any more, but with his own instincts.

It ended when she attempted a tricky move and messed it up. She fell back as he knocked her sword out of her hand. Her feet caught Percy's as she went down. He landed on top of her, pinning her to the ground in an unorthodox victory.

'I think I win,' Percy said.

His hair was completely mussed up, his bangs plastered across his sweaty forehead. His eyes sparkled with exhilaration. His face was flushed and he was breathing heavily, but his mouth quirked in a familiar sardonic smile, with that one lopsided dimple denting his right cheek.

This was her Percy. Memory or no memory, he was still in there.

Annabeth couldn't help herself. She reached up and kissed him.

Yes, a cliffy. Yes, I'm evil. But next update is coming this evening ... so maybe not that evil? :)

In the mean time, check out @preciouschildrenofolympus’s illustration of The Kiss! <3

A few more notes:

So Reyna basically walked straight into this chapter and wrote herself in. With that coffee scene (and the one with Percy later), I totally have a coffee backstory for all the demigods. I know, I'm nuts.

I'll also have you know that the bit about Mnemosyne was written before TDP came out. I only went back to make some small edits it to make it more compatible. And yes, she does have a daughter named Thalia.

Continue to chapter 7 | Back to content page

[torentialtribute]

Meet the man from Chernobyl: Lomachenko was born near site of the disaster

The most extraordinary maestro of the noble handicraft that the boxing world was ever born in Ukraine two years after the atrocities of Chernobyl

Few of Vasyl Lomachenko's compatriots will argue with the idea that we have the genius to look at his unified world lightweight championship in the O2 Arena of London against Luke Campbell this Saturday is in a strange part of the product of that nuclear disaster.

All kinds of mutant reactions have been attributed to the sinister, invisible cloud that spread its poison.

Vasyl Lomachenko the best pound-for-pound fighter in boxing, is ready for Luke Campbell

[19459279] & # 39; Loma & # 39; (right), as he is known, often sparring with three hunters simultaneously in training

The largest pound-by-pound boxer in the ring was born 420 miles before today The site of that nightmare accident , but Lomachenko says: & # 39; Maybe I am the man from Chernobyl. & # 39;

He says that in response to the question how he came through the unique style, mental powers and physical traits that set him apart from the mere mortals of the prize ring. Does he mean it? Even the least is a powerful metaphor.

Certainly, he is the product of extreme science. What became known as the Loma experiment started when his father Anatoly wore a pair of boxing gloves on his hands when he was only two days old.

Not a day later from his path to become the greatest boxer of all time, which his father always thought was his son's destiny. And he still meets us on the banks of the Thames.

From now on, Lomachenko is the best pound for pound for boxer on planet Earth. Although he is considered a phenomenon. No wonder his first nickname was The Matrix.

The regime to which Loma, as he is known to family and friends, submits to intensity. & # 39; Dad & # 39;, who is also his trainer, has been carelessly compared to Dr. Frankenstein by some. But he is not a nuclear monster.

The Ukrainian site became two years after the disaster born near the Chernobyl site

Luke Campbell hopes to disrupt the chances when he fights against Lomachenko in the O2 Arena

Loma says: & # 39; I love my life. Always have. It is what I want to do. I also never divorce father from trainer. He is my father in life, but also my father in the gym, my father in my corner. He originally created my style to take care of me in a dangerous game. Protect the head, keep my health. & # 39;

Together they developed the remarkable movement that broadens the astonishing angles from which it delivers punches that are barely visible to opponents before they land. You wonder about this kaleidoscope of brilliance is surprised at everything that is needed to achieve. Like sparring against three men at the same time. Yes, three.

I have always been a fast learner. I can get as close to an immediate reflex as humanly possible

Loma laughs: & # 39; It's usually a sparring partner. Sometimes two. Occasionally three. I'm telling you a secret. To be honest, it is easier against three than two. The three stand in each other's way more than the two, so if you also understand the positioning that makes it easier for me to take them away. & # 39;

That requires lightning speed not only from hand but from foot. To achieve that as a boy, he had to be banned from the gym to dance classes for three years.

& # 39; I didn't like that & # 39 ;, he says. & # 39; It was the Ukrainian national dance with customs. But my father insisted. In retrospect it was worth it. & # 39;

Lomachenko (left) and Campbell (right) stand in line at a press conference in London in July

]

It was one of many strict lessons. & # 39; I tell you one story, & # 39; he says. & # 39; One day I came home from school with a low grade My father said I should go back and improve the grade. I didn't take it seriously. After two days he asked if I had done that. I said no. So he said I wasn't going back. I could go to the gym until I did.

& # 39; After two more days, he asked again. I answered no and was banned from the gym for another two days. So I got the books and got the higher grade.

]

To improve his focus and sharpen his brain, Lomachenko holds his breath under water – and his record is four and a half minutes

& # 39 Then my father said: & # 39; OK & # 39 ;. But he added that he had heard me talk about winning Olympic gold. He said that somewhere in another country there was another boy with the same dream, but now I was behind that boy for five days. He told me that I could not become a world champion without a trained brain. & # 39;

What subject did he sparkle? & # 39; I can't remember if it was the Russian language or history. It certainly wasn't math. I love mathematics. & # 39;

There The Matrix speaks. They started training together and learned Loma & # 39; s mind as demandingly as his body. The Brain Box is one of their devices.

& # 39; I need to respond to lights and stimuli by touch as quickly as possible. I have always been a fast learner. Always on speed. I can come as close as possible to an immediate reflex when human is possible. & # 39;

Maybe inhumanly. Some physical excesses are also designed to sharpen the brain. Like holding his breath under water.

Campbell (left) is the tallest opponent Lomachenko has ever faced has faced in his professional career

& # 39; My record is four and a half minutes & # 39 ;, says Loma. & # 39; My dad says it's four minutes and twenty seconds, but he always wants more. I haven't done so much lately, but I think I can reach five minutes now. It is not only physical. It teaches the brain to remain calm and focused under pressure. Down there it means more to me to win a fight than to breathe. I never panic when I am tired or hurt. I still think about when I can hardly breathe. & # 39;

Lomachenko is forever immersed in sports, the son of a boxing father and a mother who still practices gymnastics and martial arts. & # 39; I have done everything & # 39 ;, he says.

& # 39; Ice hockey, horse riding, rowing, wrestling, juggling tennis balls, basketball, swimming 10 kilometers. & # 39;

But not chess, unlike many large Eastern European hunters such as the Klitschko brothers and Gennady Golovkin. & # 39; I can't sit properly & # 39 ;, he smiles. & # 39; But I was good at soccer. I played front left (Eden Hazard style as he explains) but with all the boxing it never got serious.

The Ukrainian father has always been by his side even when he went to dance classes

& # 39; When my dad threw me in football, it was for something else. I had to hold it up 300 times with my feet. One hundred, one hundred and fifty, two hundred was OK. But it took me three hours to get to the 300. It teaches focus, concentration, determination. & # 39;

Like 15 rounds of four minutes of sparring against larger hunters: & # 39; At my size (5ft 7in) I am usually boxing bigger opponents. But no one as big as Luke Campbell (5ft 9in) just to solve that problem for this weekend's fight, I have worked with men who are ever taller than he is. & # 39;

[194590021]

Pause and consider the record of this man. Only one defeat in 396 amateur attacks, with that defeat twice avenged. Double gold medalist at the Olympic Games and world championships amateur. Won first world title, by featherweight, in only his third pro fight (after he had suffered his only defeat in a rushed bid to win a belt in his second fight) and achieves the record for winning a world title in a third weight distribution in only his 12th fight.

Because of all this, his father has been there. & # 39; It will always be that & # 39 ;, he says and not just in Papa's tattoo by his side. & # 39; Of course we have had our differences over the years. Our arguments. Our problems. But he always wins. Because it ultimately comes to an ultimatum. He says calmly that if I want to go my way, he wishes me the best, but he will be without him. & # 39;

The moral support of both his mother and his wife Elena is also vital. Like that of his lifelong best friend & # 39; from the house opposite our & # 39 ;. That is why, although he is training for his American battles in the Los Angeles area, he still lives in Bilhorod-Dnistrovskiy, the Black Sea resort, where he sold newspapers and ice cream on the beach for pocket money.

However, neither the family members nor the best friend enter the battle. He explains: & # 39; My mother came to a couple, but she was afraid of me. Elena came once but was nervous. And when they get there, I know they're worried about doing something so dangerous and distracting me. & # 39;

Lomachenko had only one defeat in 396 amateur matches, with those defeat twice avenged

The laser focus is on Campbell – & # 39; A very good hunter with a high boxing IQ that I would never easily take & # 39; – right now. And he enjoys it to be in London where he won his second Olympic gold.

He is happy to pose for photos against the skyscraper background of Canary Wharf. I love the architecture, the structure & # 39 ;, he says. & # 39; I also love people, they love boxing and I could go on d e Games see that they understand. I was here for the last time for the Dillian Whyte fight against Oscar Rivas and the atmosphere in the O2 was fantastic. That I look forward to. I feel that every real Englishman has boxing at some point in his life. Jeffrey Powell spent Monday vacation with Lomachenko near Canary Wharf "class =" blkBorder img- "

Jeff Powell of Sportsmail spent Bank Holiday Monday with Lomachenko at Canary Wharf

Anatoly Jnr, at seven, has had his first two fights. & # 39; Two wins & # 39 ;, says Loma. & # 39; Although my father told him he had scored a draw because it is not good for a young boy to think that things will come easily. It will be his decision whether to become a boxer. But if he does, we'll help him. & # 39;

Besides being with our families, there would have been no more pleasant way to spend a sun-drenched holiday on Monday morning than next to the Thames with these sporty big chats about his unique style. So could there be a nasty head start on him?

& # 39; All champions have a great ego, & # 39; he says. & # 39; I think I am the best pound for pound in the world. Terence Crawford thinks so. Cinnamon Alvarez thinks so.

& For me, Crawford is second, Alvarez third. Although none of us accept losing.

& # 39; But you are a journalist, no danger to me. Come see on Saturday evening when the Loma Chip will be on my shoulder. & # 39;

So where did that come from? When was this determined that this disarming 31-year-old would scale like Elysian heights? & # 39; Before he was born & # 39 ;, says Papa Lomachenko.

Not long after Chernobyl, then?

Lomachenko v Campbell will be broadcast live this Saturday on Sky Sports Box Office

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[somma-chronicles-blog]

New Winds Move the Martial Air- SOMMA’s Chronicles Prologue

There used to be eras when chivalrous heroes walked the lands, accomplishing amazing feats with nothing but a righteous mind and martial skill. It was a time when order sought to assert itself over lawlessness, the individual aspired to improve themselves, and their eventual mastery became legendary. That age of martial arts had been driven underground during the 20th century, with the advance of technologies and warfare becoming increasingly mechanical. While it meant that mankind could now fight wide-scale and even covertly with greater efficiency, the argument could be made that martial arts culture, which had helped temper mind, body and spirit equally, now declined and became a mere curiosity. Barehanded brawling had also changed forever with the advent of concealable firearms, and underwent a similar schism when legality asserted itself as the main means of settling disputes. While this was outwardly a sign of increasingly civilized society, the regression of the warrior class can be inversely tied to the success of economic importance in society. By the 21st century, martial arts have mostly become a business to be operated, a sport to cultivate athletes, or a mix in between. In more unfortunate situations, it was an incomplete outlet for the angry and delusional. Fewer masters were being taught to their acme cultivation, and a style’s popularity waxed or waned depending on popular culture films. Yet as it is written in the metaphysical prose of Tao De Ching, “The Way that can be spoken is not the Eternal Way”. True Martial Arts culture lingers, embers fanned every so often, and while the stage changes, the essence will accommodate the form. At the society of multilateral martial arts, known as SOMMA, different perspectives interact regularly to cultivate personal growth. Could this possibly be the move that breaks the temperament of mediocrity and decline? New winds will move the stagnant air, culminating in a revitalising storm.

  The path of a martial artist has not changed much over the centuries, though the status of practitioners underwent much reform. With modern training methodology and vast leaps in biological/physiological sciences, certain approaches to training were bound to vary. Yet as human physiques have remained almost identical to the variety available in the past, more was similar than not about how people went about it. Some might interject that the modern human tends to be rounder, less active, and suffering from decreased attention spans, but even so, the distribution of body types remains stable. After all, strenuous physical activity tends to attract certain body types, and those attending this particular SOMMA session would agree that it was anything but a walk in the park. As expected of that year’s assistant instructor Jakov, who was devoted to hardcore training and enforced this standard upon the class. By the time the partner drills were finished, and those in charge satisfied with the results, everyone was directed into a low stance; their legs were ready to collapse by the time Jakov released them from it. Gathering in a large circle, as was traditional for the start/end of class, everyone bowed as a sign of mutual respect and broke away for refreshment. Some immediately headed for the restrooms, mostly to clean their appearance of sweat and dirt accumulated over the course of the evening. Others continued training with respective partners, a familiar pair of ground fighters had already occupied the foam matting section of the room, and were quickly employing the submission techniques of Brazilian jiujutsu. As usual a small crowd gathered to watch the two as they fought for space and advantageous positions. Yin lun and Oscar became so entangled at points that it was not easy to distinguish who had the upper hand, for while Oscar was more experienced and the larger combatant, Yin lun was precise, cunning, and accustomed to being outclassed in size. Indeed, a running joke was that his competitive weight division existed only as a formality, until he had entered the scene. In time, and unsurprisingly, his opponent’s superior experienced allowed him to skillfully reverse Yin lun’s net of limbs, resulting in an admission of loss via tap out. Oscar’s good form immediately released upon sensing his opponent signaling that enough was enough; during sparring matches it was fine to seek victories but no member was uncouth to the point of ignoring their opponent’s health, something the group founder was proud of. The two chatted in between short breaths as Oscar offered pointers, as much to the crowd listening as Yin lun. Satisfied, they began another bout. Seeing that there was no cause for his medical involvement the Coordinator stopped watching and did what he always did after sessions: start brewing tea. Seeing what he was up to, two girls called out from across the room

  “Nana! Want us to help with the tea cups?” Their tones suggested a good natured teasing as most girls are wont to adopt from time to time. Normally the term of endearment would be lost on most for “Nana the Coordinator” did not resemble an elderly woman, but was in fact an energetic middle aged man.

  “Yes my lovely girls, and for the last time, it’s GRAND-MA-STER, not nana!” boomed an unctuous voice. His physical build, not particularly tall, not short, yet with an undeniably large frame, often contrasted with his other duties as the coordinator and de facto leader of SOMMA, the Society of Multilateral Martial Arts. In this particular instance, he was undergoing a tea washing ceremony to brew quality tea. The two young ladies who had called out to him now came over to his make shift tea station, and began placing out various sized tea stained cups. It was a routine that showed all the fluency of regularity, for Master Solomon Li firmly believed in the duties of hospitality. Some small talk was exchanged between the table occupants, steadily growing as the boiling water settled and the pot contents were washed. Soon, a finely roasted fragrance wafted amongst the scene as fresh hot tea was poured out for all members. A plate of biscuits garnished the happy picture, a mixture of private conversations and comments directed to the group at large. Then, one of the girls, Zoey, directed a question at Master Li.

  “Say, nana (“Grand-ma-ster!” Solomon interjected), hah same thing! Anyway, our group is getting so big that today we barely have enough cups for everyone. Was the society always this popular?

  More attention was seen from the newer members, for the seniors were already familiar with SOMMA’s history. Yet they kept half an ear open as the master explained the origins in his tailored rhetoric, which included bursts of short laughter as well as vivid use of framing.

  “I began this group with support from the Morduch Scholars’ Guild, in the 11th year of the new millennium. I actually live closer to the regions of Yuwa and Ezu, but providence brought me here as I saw that Morduch had very little in terms of martial arts communities. Plus, I could avoid competing with Yuwa’s existing groups, who have been established for longer. Respect counts for everything, hahah! At the time I wasn’t a Taoist priest yet, just a young man who was enthusiastic about the martial arts, and thought his ability enough to deal with any troublemakers.”

  Some of the seniors smiled hearing that, as Solomon Li may be an eccentric, but an undisputedly powerful one. He did not care to demonstrate it very often, preferring to minimalise his true ability, and few knew the true extents of his skill should he fight seriously. The seniors who knew him best also knew that he preferred it that way, for he was an avid literary scholar and follower of ‘All fighting is based on deception’. It could be difficult to understand Solomon when he was spouting literature, or internal energy formulae, though fortunately his gregarious personality did wonders to offset that strangeness.

  “Initially, we were named Morduch Martial Arts, a general title, yet we quickly established ourselves as more than just a club. We were a society in the truest sense, comprised of many varying elements. I would posit that there is not another group like ours across the land. Eventually SOMMA became our calling card, and our early days sparked a collaboration of different practitioners unlike anything I imagined. It is important to note that I did not originally hold class sessions for beginners. It was more free form as people exchanged or taught their respective skills. We learned to hold back our power better after that, isn’t that right Oscar?”

  Oscar and Yin lun, now sweating profusely and quite out of breath, had finished grappling and made their way over to the leisurely crowd. Solomon had seen their approach and readied two cups for their refreshment.

  “Hmph, I always believe it’s better to choke on reality than dine on delusion.” Oscar’s slightly out of breath response was typical and a few chortles spread amongst the table. In many ways he was the opposite of Solomon, a proudly stoic and straightforward warrior with nothing to hide, and much less concerned with social politics than the coordinator. He was younger, in his mid 20’s, his ruggedly handsome face along with toned body suggested a pugislist, but in stark contrast his mind was undiminished, despite years of strenuous physical toll and countless opponents. One would be foolish to think of him as dull, for he possessed an amazing affinity for history and politics and could discuss either at great length. The two had become acquainted during SOMMA’s first year, making him the oldest senior member there, and despite being polar types of martial artists they steadfastly complemented each other. He was arguably one of the most accomplished amateur fighters in the land, competing in multiple circuits, and being extremely well rounded in all manner of duel based martial arts, or mixed martial arts as was the current moniker. His thirst for greater heights continued to inspire the older and younger generations alike. Solomon laughed in good natured as he continued.

  “Well, I must mention that our members have been very grateful ever since you agreed to not hit their faces every time they dropped their guard! But that was a different time altogether my friend, and I daresay that the advent of SOMMA’s truest prototype, what we have today, was seeded three years after we began, with the arrival of the executives. After all, such talented young martial artists were a blessing for any group, and I think it was my good karma that allowed Yin Lun, Jakov, and Tim to cross paths with us here at Morduch.”

  Quick glances were cast at the three mentioned, who responded with good grace and amusement. Yin lun was still composed despite recovering from his previous bouts with Oscar. Though he was more readily seen on the ground these days, he originally came to the group as an elite striker from overseas. A slight frame for his well developed body accentuated the intelligence in his boyish face, which reflected the analytical prowess of his tae kwon do background. Already a distinguished martial artist at his old school, he was practically their master’s top pupil. After expanding his horizons with SOMMA’s diverse training scene, he had evolved past the point of recognition when compared to his old self. The original Yin lun was a blur in combat, a fast kicker with a bit of wing chun’s rapid chain punching splashed in. Contemporary Yin Lun had all those advantages, plus being augmented with internal energy controls to moderate power, capable of deadly executions from any limb, and a highly technical grappler too. There was no doubt that his current self was many times more dangerous than in his younger days.

  The other two, Tim and Jakov, had known each other for years before joining SOMMA, signing up together. They had been students of a local aikido master, who imparted skills that were rare to find in schools outside of Japan, where their style originated. Tim’s figure often surprised people when they discovered the suppleness and subtlety of his muscle and joint control. A tall broad shouldered young man whose unassuming demeanor matched his impressive physique, he grew up loving the athleticism of power lifters and wrestlers. Ever respectful in conduct, he also trained in traditional karate, and boasted bone shattering strikes along with skillful control of limbs, whether they belong to him or his opponents. Tim’s quiet zest for life fueled his training, which he enjoyed cross referencing with sport sciences as well as reinvigorating with new experiences/techniques. Though not specifically trained for ground fighting, his concepts of stand up grappling were superb and provided an intuitive sense when on the floor. He was a highly prized addition for any form of physical activity.

  Jakov was tall as well, though of slimmer frame. Originally purely based in aikido, he was an avid lover of martial arts cinematography, from which he was able to draw inspiration. A true acolyte of fusing lifestyle with martial arts, he boasts extreme flexibility, and displayed a wonderfully pure cultivation of skills, as well as esoteric knowledge of the fighting arts from Japan; all tempered by a playful mannerism that bordered on comical. One would be severely mistaken to assume that his softer style suggested any weakness, for dedication to the point of perfection had resulted in his ability to deal devastating whiplash kicks. He was proficient in swordsmanship, specifically the katana, and his repertoire was unusual as it also held a foundation in Bajiquan, the Chinese kung fu of 8 extremities. Solomon had taught him as a means to improve inner power, but Jakov soon outpaced all initial expectations by truly incorporated the style with his own, able to deliver palm strikes packed with crippling power. He was the current group president, a role preceded by the other two.

  “Some of you might wonder why they’re called the executives”, continued Master Li. “Well, the Scholar’s Guild had become concerned that I wielded too much power by myself, so asked me to nominate a president, a vice president and a general secretariat. Of course Oscar and others were by my side, but a new generation requires new blood don’t you think? Hence, the 3 best suited members of the time, Tim, Jakov and Yin Lun, were asked to become my figurehead council hahahah! I joke of course, each of them has contributed invaluably to our society, and I couldn’t be prouder.” There was no mocking tone as he beamed at the 3 executives, his pride was apparent as he indulged in a moment of nostalgia, reminiscing how the boys had become fine young men. Realising how much time had passed as he glanced at the clock on the wall, he decided that it was now time go home. Clearing his throat, he concluded with,

  “Well, I could go on and on, we all know hahah! But it’s getting late, and some of you have parents who will be worried if you’re not back home soon. Let’s pack up the equipment and go home!” The next few minutes were a gradual shuffling away, people breaking off into their own conversations while collecting gear, separating the jigsaw floor mats, and changing from training attire to their civilian clothing. Zoey and Joey did not need to be told, but immediately began washing the cups, while Solomon packed away the tea set. The girls resumed their teasing of the man as they dried the cups.

  “Nana, you like to tell stories, what about the others who weren’t mentioned? Do you remember how each of them came by?”

  “Hahah, it’s Grand- ma- ster! And yes, I do remember everyone who came and trained here, but that’s going to take more than a single session to recount. There’ve been a lot of us, and more every year… Maybe I’ll record it down somewhere before I get senile, eh? Hahaha!”

[doomelem-aus]

First encounter of the Winoanan Kind

Win/Laura - Can’t stop, won’t stop doubting whether or not I should let my guard down

Laura sat in a little round table, a bit aways from the dining hall and the Research Department. This little tiny courtyard in the Academy, she found this spot as a hideaway from the rest of the world.

She loved her job and loved her coworkers (for the most part). But sometimes, she just wanted to get away from the office, from her colleagues, from the business of supporting a team of elite warriors trying to protect humanity from a terrible Scientist bent on domination.

So it was nice to get some fresh air. The fresh air also helped her think clearly and solve the most difficult problems. Right now, and for the past few weeks, she’s been rolling around a particular problem in her head. That problem, was called Win.

Winoanan McCarthy. Elementor of Air, Son of the Water and Air Elementors of the previous generation. Famous for his speed and accuracy in battle, and his speed and accuracy in his dating life. He was known as a heartbreaker and a lady-killer, although she wondered how much of those rumors were actually true and how much were embellished. Especially considering how … fake he came off sometimes. Sometimes she’d walk down the hall and she’d hear how he’d chat up some of the younger staffers that were around his age, talking about his triumphs. But it sounded as if he was putting up a front. Like he was trying to portray this image of someone who had it all together and who had it all, period.

She was glad that she hadn’t been at the Academy for very long when she heard about his reputation before flirting and charming. When she first came here, a few years ago, she only heard about the Air Elementor they were focused on. Her team was to conduct research that would not only help him improve on the battlefield, but would contribute to the success of the future Air Elems.

And then her team went to visit a training session to see Win in action.

He walked into the stadium and changed into a real saunter once he noticed that he had an audience. He was pretty, she had to admit that. Dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, sharp jaw.He gave her team a casual wave, as casual as someone who was trying to look cool. Unfortunately, she really did think he looked cool at that point.

But then he started practicing. He was leaping in the air, sending gusts of wind, razor sharp gales and dizzying tornadoes at his sparring partner, one of the Teachers of the Air Element. The teacher, armed with a staff, sent blow after blow to him, and Win dodged, countering with his own attack each time. Even after the teacher clearly stopped going easy and got a couple good jabs himself, Win still recovered quickly. His movements were graceful, sharp, moving masterfully at breakneck speed. At one point, he spun around, briefly facing the team for a second before landing a hit on the teachers chest, and she could see the concentration and focus on his face. She would come to recognize that look as a sign that he was at his greatest; not focused on the audience or the crowd or anyone but his target. Not putting on a show, but really doing what he came to do.

Occasionally, she would pass him in the hallway, and she wouldn’t expect him to really recognize her. They were introduced in the Research Lab later on that same day, but for all she knew, he probably just saw her as another one of the Researchers who helped him. On one particular instance, she bumped into him (her alarm didn’t go off, how nice) when running to work. Flustered, Laura had scrambled to grab her papers and her bag and mumbled a few apologies to the Elementor.

She heard him chuckle, and looked up.

Laura was right about the pretty part, as his sky-blue eyes took her in.

“Here, I’m sorry about that.” He handed her a few of her pens.

Laura tore her eyes away, forcing herself to finish grabbing the rest of her stuff. “Thanks” she mumbled. She couldn’t tell if the mirth in his eyes was genuine or just mocking her, trying to come off cool again. She ran down the hall, trying her best not to look like the high school nerd who was late to class (which was never, ever her, mind you) and ignored the way his chuckle made something inside her go fuzzy.

Laura sighed, as she put the remaining half of her sandwich down on the stone table she sat at. It’s kinda hard to enjoy a lunch if your stomach is filled with butterflies. Not butterflies. A strange sensation, a result of an emotional response from recalling a mildly stressful social situation. That’s what it was. Science.

Packing up her lunch bag, she entered the hallway. The Win Problem did not end with embarrassing herself like that, unfortunately. It got compounded tenfold a few weeks ago…

Laura and a few other Researchers went a little farther across the boundary than usual to try out a technique with Win. It took a little convincing, he had spent the most of the past few days either on Missions or training, so he was a little worn. Even he was a little of wary of taking them, but that far past the boundary but incidents didn’t usually happen that often out there. Plus, they had Win.

And they were extremely thankful that Win was around, when they heard the ugly roar of an Earth Creature as it charged through a nearby bush. Laura’s coworkers got a head start, being a few feet away from her, writing notes down, but she was just about to lose the Creature when it leapt and landed right in front of her. Trapped, she looked around, trying to find something to defend herself. It’s milky green eyes were unsettling as they tracked her movements, set in a globe-like body made of blackened vines, branches, and oozing sludge. It was about the size of a carriage, and looked like it had plenty of room for her behind those rows of jagged, sharpened teeth. Going against her emergency training, she closed her eyes, and held out the branch as the Creature lunged for her.

She braced for impact, but didn’t expect to be shoved backwards. She landed on her back, and blinked. There was Win, standing between her and the Creature, having shoved her back. Laura tried to gain her bearings as she leaned against the tree she landed on, watching dazed as Win punched and kicked and dodged the Creature’s attacks.  After a particularly well placed hit, the Creature stumbled on it’s back, and Win turned around to her.

“Are you okay?” Win asked, eyes full of concern, and still blazing from the heat of battle.

“You’re… really good…” She was too dizzy to realize how embarrassing she sounded, but she really was impressed by how fast he took that thing out. Almost a little too fast.

He got closer, and she vaguely noted how he checked her over for wounds. Her eyes picked up movement behind him, and it took a few seconds for her eyes to focus.

The Creature was not totally out for the count, and had finally rolled back onto it’s feet. It’s globe-like eyes were set on Win, and it looked angry.

“Creature…” Laura’s voice was only a whisper.

Win, who was so focused on her, paused. “What-”

“Creature!” This time Laura was able to convey the urgency in her voice.

The Air Elementor turned around just in time to block the Creature’s charge with a gust of wind.

After some point in the battle, Laura had migrated to the other side of the tree, feeling marginally more safe. She felt strange leaving Win all alone, but also felt strange just sitting there. Also, she had no idea how to fight a living, breathing, teeth-gnashing Earth Creature so she figured it would be better if she stayed out of the fight. Didn’t want to give Win more trouble. What she could do, she thought, was yell out her analysis of how to fight the thing. May as well try.

“A razor sharp gust could really hurt that things eyes!” Laura inwardly winced. She really didn’t sound all Scientific and badass when she was slightly panicked.

“What!?” Win looked at her, having thrown a punch and rounding back for another one.

“That thing has huge eyes, why not try to hurt it that way?” She really needed to work on her battle-side mannerisms.

Win threw her an irritated look as he leapt against a tree trunk, using it as a springboard to leap over the Creature, dodging a hit from one of it’s huge, stumpy feet.

She was sure that he didn’t really want fighting advice from a Researcher who was currently hiding behind a bush, but couldn’t hurt to try. Plus, those giant globe like eyes looked almost like stones set into that bulky Creature’s body. Being a relatively new design of the Scientist’s, the Elems hadn’t directly encountered them much yet, and the Researchers had only recently gotten ahold of a specimen to examine. On first glance, it didn’t look like a tender spot, and Win might not try it on his own.

“I don’t mean any offense but” Win was cut off by another hit,”I am kinda too busy to take advice right now... “ The Creature chomped at his hands after he missed a punch to its nose. “...But maybe later we can discuss things!” Win was moving so fast, it was hard to imagine how he could be thinking strategy at that moment.

Laura usually wouldn’t argue with that logic but it seemed as if Win was uncharacteristically tiring. She had seen him go hours fighting much harder than this with much tougher foes. He needed some sort of help.

The Creature lunged for Win, and held him against a tree. It’s massive, tree-trunk like limbs held his legs down, and he struggled to hold its gaping jaws back as it tried to swallow him.

For a split second, she saw Win’s eyes flick to her face, just beyond the Creatures head. He looked back at the Creature, and in a flash of movement, he released one of its jaws to jab the monster in the eye.

The Thing groaned, the sound reverberating in its body as it backed away from Win, almost curling up in pain. As Win followed up with more hits, he glanced at Laura, his face somewhere between an apology, a thank you, and irritation.

The battle only last a few minutes more, with Laura shouting out her analysis, and Win taking some recommendations and casting her an exasperated look at others. Occasionally, the recommendations dissolved to a few verbal jabs from Win, teasing her about never having fought, and she’d throw one back about how he never researched or studied like she did, She had never done hand to hand combat and some of her ideas were a little uneffective, but still. She had a pretty good track record built up in those few minutes.

The Creature had really started to wear out after a few good jabs to the eyes, but had grown desperate to defend itself as it was losing. A few more hard-earned jabs to the eyes Win was gaining the upper hand. Laura couldn’t help but marvel a little at the skill and precision that the Air Elementor possessed. Even right now, when he was tired, he was still, as far as she could tell, an amazing fighter. A Warrior.

One last hit to the eyes, and the Creature made a sound between a squeal and a moan, and turned tail to run back in the direction it came from. Win [insert stuff here about how the Creatures turn to ash or poof or something when they’re destroyed]

Laura had to suppress the urge to pump her fists and cheer like a spectator at a  victorious sports game. Win walked over, knocking dust of his uniform. As she got closer, she could see the weariness in his face, but also the relief that the fight was over.

“So… you’re alright?”

Laura blinked. “Yeah.. of course. I’m not the one who just battled thing… But that was-”

“So what was that?

Laura tried not to look confused.”What?”

“What was all of that? I mean, you did help, but shouting out like that? Giving me suggestions? I get that you want to try and help and all, but you could have really distracted me from-”

She couldn’t really believe her ears. “I was trying to help, yes, and I did. You were the one not taking advantage of a weak spot.”

Win looked a little affronted. “But that’s not what I meant-”

“I know that you’re the Elementor and I’m a Researcher, but you’re the one who needs to worry about distractions. I knew of a weak spot, and that fight seemed to be taking awhile, and you looked kinda tired-”

“Tired!?” Win looked as if someone popped his balloon. “Tired or not, it’s not your responsibility to shout out while I’m fighting, I was trying to focus on protecting you and you were supposed to just-”

Laura crossed her arms, squaring her shoulders in a hope to hide how agitated she felt. “My shouting helped you, end of story. Yes I could have distracted you, but in the end, that distraction helped.”

Win blinked at her, clearly not expecting her to be so forceful. She didn’t even expect it to be honest.

Well, she was on a roll. “I’m sorry if I’m not one of those young staffers that kiss your feet or flatter you or stroke your ego, but I did what I thought needed to be done.” For extra emphasis, she turned on her heel, and started heading back for the Academy.

Win’s expression before she turned her back bounced from outrage to shock and back again. It was a few anxious seconds of setting regret until she heard his boots trudge across the ground to catch up with her. Win could be heard walking behind her.

“I’m not looking for you to ‘stroke my ego’ or ‘kiss my feet’... I was just trying to warn you before you go and boss some other Elem around during a fight… you could-”

She let some attitude into her voice. “-I could actually help them?”

Win tutted. “You could actually distract them or draw attention to yourself and get you both killed.”

She looked at him. His expression didn’t have any of the outrage from before, and in fact, almost looked playful. He must have been happy to have won that little exchange.

She turned back to the front, fighting the urge to smile at seeing his usual expression return to his face. Whatever, she still manage to help him.

The Win Problem, as she called it, still wasn’t in full swing, even at that point. That was just the beginning really. Seeds planted.

(For editing later)

After they had gotten back to the Academy, she went through a full round of medical examinations, and interviewing by Vice President Velezquez to make sure that they got record of what this Creature does, and to make sure she wasn’t traumatized by the event. (She was just glad it wasn’t the President who interviewed her, that man was intimidating.) She was sitting in her Infirmary bed, VP Velezquez having left a bit ago, when she heard a knock on her door. Win appeared, and asked about how her condition. He seemed as if something was bothering him, as if he was trying to decide to play himself flirty and cocky as usual or all business like he was at the edge of the Boundary. She answered his questions and he listened with rapt, almost intense focus. He seemed to be studying her answers, and maybe even her mannerisms. And after a few seconds of answering all his questions, he smiled that playful smile, but his eyes held something she couldn’t place. As someone who had spent a lifetime studying and thought she could read him pretty easily, this dug under her skin a bit. He left with a Get Well Soon, vanished just as he had arrived.

His visits didn’t stop after that. He came to her office a couple of times, saying that he was checking up on her, and the second time he brought a small stuffed pterodactyl, probably having noticed her pterodactyl poster above her computer, with a small little “Thank You” card attached to the wing. Each time he came, he got harder to read, and simultaneously got less uptight and more playful. His bright blue eyes would shine would mirth, and he’d flashed that smile of his. As someone who prided herself on an almost clinical approach to analyzing men, this was not something she would admit to enjoying.

Even now, as she walked back to the Lab, she was thinking about him. She was not supposed to be thinking about him. She rounded the corner of the cubicles clustered up, and as she sat down at her desk, she would not wonder if he would visit today.

As Laura tried to start her notes on their latest experiment, her pen ran out. She opened her desk drawer, and there sat the little stuffed pterodactyl, the one that she shouldn’t have kept, and lied to Win about giving to one of the Staffer children.

Maybe she should start writing notes and conducting research on how to stop this Winoanan Problem.