#so have uhhh have the whole final battle of the war of the ring i guess???

[tathrin]

6... on a falling tear and 38... because they're running out of time （＾ω＾）

Oh how lovely and tragic, very nice choices! Thank you very much for the ask. I'll split them up into two separate posts because I'm incapable of ever writing anything succinct though, sigh! Prompt taken from this; anyone can feel free to send other numbers in at any time, I don’t care how long it’s been. (Just maybe add some context to your ask if it’s been like a month or more since I posted this, because otherwise I won’t know what to do with the random number in my inbox lmao).

#38....because they’re running out of time. [mood music anyone?]

“Never thought I’d die as a diversion,” Gimli muttered, watching as Sauron’s army poured out of the Black Gates and surrounded the two small hills on which Aragorn had arrayed their forces.

Gimli could not count the teeming numbers of the enemy that stood before him—they were too many, too foul—but Legolas had the keen eyes of the elves, and he had told Gimli that their force of six thousand was outnumbered at least ten-to-one. They were not all orcs, either, which would have been bad enough; for surely each troll should be counted six or seven times at least.

The hills would help, Gimli thought numbly, at least a little; the incline would grant the defenders an advantage over the enemy that would have to scramble to climb up at them, and the slag pools of fetid Mordor that surrounded the low hillocks would be another impediment—but it would not be enough.

They had known it would not be enough even before they set out for the Black Gates, and they had all of them come anyway. Gimli did not regret his choice to follow his friends into doom, no; but that did not make the moment of the end any less bitter. And that moment was almost here, now; they were running out of time.

The enemy paused at the feet of the hills, hissing and cursing and some of them even spitting, and Gimli spun his axe to stretch his shoulders in anticipation of the battle to come.

He stood near the front, with Aragorn and Legolas and most of the mightiest of their fighters, where the attack would surely be the thickest. He eyed one lumbering troll that was pushing its way through the milling ranks of orcs, an ugly line of drool hanging off one side of its jaw where broken teeth distorted its already ugly grin into something macabre and ghoulish.

“Gimli,” Legolas said, standing so close beside him, his voice light with echoes of distant birdsong, and Gimli could feel himself smiling in instinctive response even as his heart twisted in sorrow at the thought of what was soon to come for them both. “Gimli,” Legolas said, “may I—I would ask a very great favor of you, my friend, if you would indulge me, please.”

“Of course,” Gimli said immediately. He turned to look up at the elf beside him, standing like a slender ray of sunlight in that bleak land, and tried to hide his breaking heart behind his smile. He could not imagine what sort of favor Legolas might ask at this late juncture—or if he could, then it was a favor that need not be spoken aloud, for Gimli had already vowed to himself that he would not allow the enemy to take this elf alive for torment when the battle ended and their defeat enfolded them.

“Anything, Legolas, you know that.”

Legolas gave a strange, half-choked laugh, and pressed his free hand to his face as though smother some strong feeling; with his other, of course, he held the mighty bow of the Galadhrim that the Lady had given him, and Gimli’s heart gave another pang at the thought of three golden strands tucked away safely behind white walls far away, waiting for a dwarf who would never return to reclaim them—but then Legolas moved, and Gimli’s eyes were drawn instead to tight golden braids that swayed before him as the slender Wood-elf suddenly swayed like a falling sapling and bent down close to Gimli’s face.

He caught Gimli’s bearded cheek with his hand and turned the dwarf’s face up to meet him, and then—oh, and then Legolas was kissing him and Gimli’s mind seemed to dissolve in a blaze of starlight. His whole world narrowed down to those smooth lips pressed so tight and hungry to his own; those long fingers twined so gently through his beard to cup his chin in their narrow palm; the brush of heavy golden braids against Gimli’s shoulders as Legolas bent low over him...

Belatedly, Gimli realized that he had reached up to press his hand to the elf’s face as well; he only noticed when the pad of his thumb brushed against the tip of one long pointed ear and Legolas’s breath hitched in both their mouths.

The drew apart, Legolas swaying back upright with a last lingering flutter of his fingers against Gimli’s beard before he pulled away. Gimli’s jaw worked soundlessly around words that would not come,his wide eyes fixed so fervently on the beautiful, beardless face before him that he almost forgot the stink of the orcs and the jeers of their ugly voices in his ears.

“Forgive me the liberty, I pray,” Legolas rasped. His mithril-bright eyes shimmered with unshed tears, in that moment looking suddenly so like the pool of the Mirrormere that Gimli almost felt as though he had been transported somehow back to the hills outside Khazad-dûm, and this desperate death at the doors of Mordor made into naught but a terrible dream.

But the creeping tendrils of fear that marked the approach of the Nazgûl was no dream; nor were the thundering steps of the trolls as they began to scale the hills, nor the shouts of the orcs as they struggled to follow. In moments, the enemy would be upon them. There was so much Gimli wanted, needed, to say; but they were running out of time.

“There is—there is nothing to forgive, Legolas,” he managed to croak.

“I am relieved to hear it,” Legolas replied. “For I could not bear to die without ever kissing you, Gimli.”

Gimli reached up for those golden braids and bright eyes again. “Legolas—!”

Legolas flashed him a brief, bright, heartbroken smile, and then turned away to face the enemy as the orcs rushed towards them. Gimli raised his axe more out of habit than intention and stepped up beside the elf. “Legolas...” he tried again, but his head was reeling and he could not find the words he wished to craft; they all slipped through his mental fingers, like he was trying to scoop cave-cold water with naught but his bare hands.

Then the first troll reached them, bellowing as it knocked three soldiers of Gondor off their feet to tumble down the hill towards the waiting blades of the orcs below. Gimli growled and gripped his axe, and then suddenly Legolas was scaling the troll, blasted fool of an elf that he was!

“Legolas!” Gimli shouted again, and raced to follow him into the fight.

The troll was too slow to catch the nimble elf, but its attempts to do so blunted its attention to the axe in Gimli’s hand as he hacked at its knees. The creature roared belatedly in anger, even as thick blood wept down its legs. It reached down to try and swat Gimli away, and Legolas scampered across its shoulders and drove his long knife in deep into the troll’s eye. Even that was not enough to kill the beast, but when two Rohirrim came up with long spears the troll was too woozy with pain and blood-loss to bat the weapons away from its throat.

It went down with a thud and a cry of rage rose from the orcs in response. Legolas skipped away from the body and landed on the ground again at Gimli’s side. Shaking with fear, anger, and adrenaline, Gimli caught him by the wrist and gave the elf a shake. “Don’t do that again!” he shouted. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

Legolas laughed, fey and unfettered, his merriment as sharp and keen as his arrows. He slashed his knife through the throat of a climbing orc and twisted easily away from the resulting spray of black blood. “Gimli, we are all going to die here,” he said, wiping the blade clean on the skirt of his tunic before sheathing it and drawing his bow once more. “Put aside your fears, my dear; we have moved beyond that now. All that is left to us is to make our deaths worthy of those that came before us, and to sell our lives dearly enough that we might hope to buy enough time for others to save all those who may come after from this Shadow.”

His arrows flew true, burying themselves in throats and eyes and black-blooded hearts even as he looked back at the dwarf more often than he did at the oncoming orcs. In Legolas’s eyes, Gimli could see the glimmer of all the years together they would never have; could see the crumbling eternity of an immortal life cut short and the unscalable chasm that lay forever between the fates of elves and dwarves, sundering them from one another for all time even unto the breaking of the world.

This, he realized, was all the time they were ever going to have.

Tears stung his eyes, hot and bitter. It was not enough. It would never, ever be enough—and it did not matter, because there was no more to be had.

Gimli shook his head, swallowing down the urge to weep; he had to focus on the orcs. There were too many coming up the sides of the hill now, too fierce; it was all Gimli could do to swing his axe in time to block their blows and cut them down. It was all he could do to keep close to Legolas’s side, the elf now reduced to fighting with nothing but his long white knife. There were maybe half a handful of arrows in his quiver yet, but even elvish speed was insufficient to allow for proper archery at sight a tight distance in this tumult.

Oh, why had Gimli not seen to it that his elf was better armed before they rode off to this final battle? Legolas was deadly with that little knife, yes, but oh it seemed so short in his long fingers. Why had Gimli not sought the armories of Gondor, and borrowed some mightier blade for his friend? Why had he not sought the forges, and made him one to suit his lanky frame?

He was such a fool. What had he been wasting his time on instead, when he could have—should have—been seeing to Legolas’s safety?

When he could have been kissing him?

Gimli growled, and swung his axe harder, and watched one burly uruk go down gurgling and clutching at its guts. Gimli swung again, and its head toppled free and he could turn to the next enemy, the next threat. Beside him, Legolas whirled and slashed in a flurry of golden braids and a black-blooded blade. He lunged over Gimli’s head to slit the throat of an orc that was angling a spear towards Gimli’s ribs as Gimli kicked-out low and took the feet out from under another orc that had managed to get a grimy hand around one of those bright braids.

“Away from him!” Gimli bellowed, and the orc feel back squealing over the stump of its arm. Gimli stepped closer to the elf—his elf—and they ended up fighting back-to-back, or back-to-shoulders at least; their disparate heights should have made them terrible battle-partners, but it was so easy to fall into a rhythm with Legolas, a balancing of their skills and statures. Legolas spun high with his short knife and Gimli swung low with his broad axe, and the enemy gave way before them.

But more came, replacing those that fell. Always more came, and the fight went on. Gimli could feel his limbs tiring, his bones aching from the weight of his blade and the blows that had glanced off his mail. A dozen small cuts he could not remember taking bled sluggishly, adding a dull sheen of red to the viscous black liquid that splattered his armor and his skin.

More came, and the Nazgûl followed, and all around them men shrieked and cowered beneath that mindless fear. Gimli fought on, so numb with grief that he barely startled at the cry that the eagles had come. That felt unreal, like something out of some other story; one that had a better ending than theirs. Despair rolled thick across the Host of the West and even Gimli, stout-hearted dwarf that he was, faltered for a moment before it—

And then Legolas laughed.

There was nothing merry in that sound, and the only brightness was the sharp brightness of a pale blade flashing out of the shadows of tall black trees. It was a laugh full of teeth, and claws, and all the dark and dangerous things that lurk within a wood. It was the sort of laugh that would send wise folk fleeing for strong walls and sturdy doors; the sort of laugh that might send children shivering to hide under their beds and wait for dawn. It was the laugh of a wild thing, untamed and dangerous, and it rang out light and sharp-edged above the gutteral shouts and screams of the orcs and the roaring bellows of the trolls.

Legolas laughed, and Gimli smiled to hear it. He lifted his head high against the weight of Mordor’s bleak despair and raised his axe high once more. Legolas was right; there was no longer any cause for fear. They had faced the end already, and the end was here; there was no sense cowering before it. Better to stand tall, and die fighting proud and unbowed, defying the power of the Dark Lord to the last.

And then—and then, on the other side of fear, after all hope seemed so long lost it was little more than a memory, everything changed.

The Nazguûl fled; the army crumbled; the towers fell.

Sauron was destroyed. And they had lived.

They lived.

Gimli could hardly process it. He turned to Legolas, still at his side, the both of them weary and blood-stained and heartsick from the tangled mingling of hope and despair, and he opened his mouth to speak—but no words came out.

He saw all their tomorrows flow suddenly back into Legolas’s bright eyes and the elf swayed, as though the sudden lifting of the Shadow had left him unsteady on his light feet. Gimli caught his hand and held him steady.

“Legolas—” Gimli began.

“Tomorrow,” Legolas interrupted him with a smile. “Let us help the wounded now, Gimli; we will talk on other things tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Gimli said, rolling the taste of the word around in his mouth; rolling the feel of it around in his mind. “Yes,” he said. “Tomorrow. To think that there will be such a thing!” He laughed from bewildered joy and squeezed his elf’s hand once, tightly, before letting go and turning back to the grim battlefield. “Tomorrow. We will talk on all things then.”

Legolas bent and pressed a light kiss to Gimli’s cheek. “Tomorrow,” he said again, the word heavy with promise, and then they walked off together into the carnage of hopes renewed and deaths well-fought.

“Tomorrow,” Gimli murmured once more to himself, and there on the bloodstained soil of the Black Land, he smiled.

[ranmanjuu]

hi! can you do a gen z mc who got injured at the protests and have them elaborate on what the protests were about to the oda forces? i got tear gassed at a protest so your writing is actually helping me feel better!

tw : injuries from police br*tality, heavy r*cism

first of all i hope you’re okay!! i’m so sorry for taking so long i hope you’re still here reading this ehhh,,. i personally don’t know much of ‘getting injured in protests’ other than rubber bullets and tear gassing—and for anyone out there protesting (also considering recent things that have happened in my country,,,), please be safe out there!

ᅠᅠ

—nobunaga:

the first encounter you had, he didn’t really notice it. he had a lot of things on his plate, mostly about his assassination attempt, you know, the usual. 

it’s only when he invites you to his tenshu to know more about his most interesting chatelaine. after all, the moment his life was out of danger, the immediate groan out of you raised a brow.

in your defense, going back from a protest then just sent back 500 years in the past did put you in a pissy mood. the injustice was enough bullshit, you didn’t want to deal with this right after.

and,,, your response was probably too snarky for a man in power like him. but that’s what compelled him to bring you to the castle. maybe it was spite, or just dangerous curiosity. no one’s spoken to him in such,,, rude manners before.

being all past the whole, chasing-you-down-just-for-you-to-come-to-my-sickass-castle, the dragged-500-years-into-the-warring-states-period, constant-wars-everywhere, and everything in between, you’ve managed to,, calm down decently, at least. you’re just really confused as to why he called you in. 

through your slippery tounge, you accidentally let it slip that you’re from the future; great job! mission one from sasuke already failed. but—you’ve dug your grave, now you have to lie in it.

upon listening to the rest of your explanation, naturally, nobunaga starts asking questions.

after a series of them, mostly about general stuff like technology, etc., he hits you with a curveball. “what is that?” he asks, observing the small patch of reddened skin.

you’ve been shot by a rubber bullet prior to the time traveling. you wager that they were aiming for the neck—a highly fatal area to hit, even with a rubber bullet, mind you—but you were lucky enough to only be hit near the collar bone. still—to say it’s inexcusable is an understatement.

“huh—?” you follow his eyes, then trail your fingers on the edge as you show more of your injury, “. . .got injured a while back. asshole cops think they can just. . .fuckin’. . .”

your sentence turns too faint for him to hear clearly, he only knows that you feel anger from your tone. all he does is gaze passively as the steam comes out of your, slowly.

“what happened exactly?”

and with that one question, he’s in for quite the story. you start off in the beginning; what triggered it all. the injustice brought by those who are said to protect the people, the same ones that shed blood because they knew they could get away with it. then, the protests done by the ones who wanted justice, equality, something that should just be the norm at this point.

and then, the horrible attacks the cops’ve done to hose who protested,,, the mere thought gets your blood boiling, really. no one poised any kind of harm, it was a peaceful protest—and yet they still hurted, perhaps even killed. and they get away with it.

“. . .and i sure as hell ain’t gonna die to some bullshit system. i’ll keep on going at it until people can stop dying so. . .needlessly like that.”

he pauses after hearing you. his eyes have a vague sense of scrutinize, but certainly not at you. "and you still continue to go, even if it results in injuries for you?”

you look back at him, determination burning like a passion, “as long as less people will die of discrimination; as long as our cause is heard in the end—i’ll sacrifice anything for it. for equality.”

the silence rings for minutes.

but the hand on your shoulder quickly strays your mind back to him. to your surprise, a daring smile, almost a smirk, pulled his lips, “you are braver than many men that i’ve met. fiery and passionate also. i do believe you’ll be quite the addition here.”

and while you raise an eyebrow to that, your heart settles as he ends it with one final thing, “you’ve earned my utmost respect.”

ᅠᅠ

—hideyoshi:

he would have been highly alerted in your presence—had it not been the fact that your eye was bruised and injured. it was fresh, the patch of skin having not turn purple or black yet, but it was enough to signal that it could be a fatal wound.

medics were sent your way by his command, and given the opportunity, he checked in on you frequently. the culprit of the attempted assassination was yet to be found—so he just assumed that you were a poor civilian caught in the crossfire.

you were rather crude to him, but he brushed it all off. you must’ve been some sort of stressed out after just saving his lord, so he gave you space and went to do other things.

it’s when they reconvene under nobunaga’s order did he find out about the decision for your fate.

“my lord, are you sure we should bring them back to azuchi? perhaps they have a place in a town around here.”

“—not really.” hideyoshi’s eyes filled with surprise and concern as a small response came out of you, with eyes looking away from everyone in the tent with lips bitten anxiously and brows stitched together.

so it ended on you going to azuchi along with them. because really, even if you didn’t want to, what were you to do? you had no place in the sengoku, and you’ve forgotten all about your scouts lessons back in middle school to survive in the forest.

and while you insist on working rather than just be royalty basically, hideyoshi is the one who persuades you to at least rest first. with a sigh, you agree.

from then on, you find him visiting you quite often between his breaks. most of the time, asking how you’ve been, making light conversations over tea, and sometimes fussing over the smallest things. it’s a gradual change you’ll get used to—from the failed assassination to the weird, home-y feeling he brings.

it didn’t take long for his curiosity to push him. one day, with the usual cup of tea, the silence passes for quite the moment until he spoke up, “if i may ask, where exactly,,, did you get that?”

he doesn’t quite point to it, but you know what he’s talking about. half your vision is covered now, from ieyasu’s work on trying to make it better. you stare in the cup, swishing the tea around, “. . .my town had, uhhh, ‘problems’.”

he listened intently as you reworded the current real life events. just change the cops to guard, the bullets to blunt sticks(?), etc. the core of it you kept the same, the discrimination, the unruly deaths and wounds of the innocent.

all the while, hideyoshi looks at you with slightly parted lips and eyes that spell a bit of disbelief. such compassion don’t exist in a lot of people—much less a majority of civillians from a town. he thought he’d’ve heard about it, but you did say it was quite the small one, far away.

as you finish your long explanation, your face was scrunched up in a scowl, remembering the scene at the time. the cops came, a highly dangerous situation; but you weren’t leaving just like that. not until you got hit by a bullet did you go back home—and look where you are now.

“—.” hideyoshi calls out your name, snapping you to reality. you dart your attention to him, his face filled with concern, worry—but also slight anger and a distant sense of fondness.

“. . .when nobunaga unites the country, we’ll be sure to aid you. we’ll stop them from hurting anyone else. so until then, please stay with us.”

the sentiment brought warmth to your heart, but you knew the truth. he wouldn’t be able to, the wormhole was a big separation in that. even so, you shook your head, “i don’t,,, uhh, think i can stay for that long.”

his brows stitch together in confusion, “and why is that?”

“. . .i want to go back as soon as i can. and—i only have one chance to do such a thing, and never again.” upon your answer, his eyes widened a bit. no further questions were asked about that, as your own expression said you didn’t want to talk about it.

“but—you could be in danger if you go back.”

“i don’t care.” the tea is cold as you set it down, “. . .i don’t wanna,,, just escape and turn a blind eye to it, i think. it may be safer for me here, but—i still want to help back there. whether or not i’m injured is,,, a means to an end, for me.”

that’s when every suspicion he could’ve had about you dissolved. the determination and righteousness that burned so brightly in your voice was irreplaceable. along with that, was a very deep respect for you. he serves nobunaga because he believed in equality among everyone, and it seems so do you. even if you’re willing to sacrifice yourself—to see a better world where everyone is happy.

a beat passes. two. with a sigh, hideyoshi’s hardened gaze relents back into the strange warmness, hid hand reaching out to ruffle your hair. “well, i don’t think i agree with you diving into potential danger, but just so you know. if you ever need help, you can always reach to us, alright?”

you breath out a chuckle, “. . .of course.”

ᅠᅠ

—mitsuhide:

your whole entire body was sore even before the wormhole sent you back. not to mention, just after that, you had to carry a full-armored man out of a burning building with someone trying to kill said man.

so to say you were disoriented was quite an understatement.

you didn’t even feel it until days have passed. and at this point, you’ve gone under mitsuhide’s tutoring. being sat down for a long time made it painfully obvious that your body was still healing—but you’ve sang this song a million times before. in which the soreness lingered for a while, and then it’d disappear. you can bear with it.

that is, until he started training you in battle.

the tanegashima practice was fine, if a bit triggering by the gunshots. but you saw it the same as archery. however, sparring on the other hand,,,

yeah. the first break you took, you already felt every single part of you reeling. mitsuhide wasn’t ruthless with you, but you figure he wasn’t being soft either.

in truth, prior to arriving in the sengoku period, your body had taken a hit in a protest. you didn’t get caught in the tear-gassing crossfire, or got shot by a rubber bullet. rather, a police car had arrived at the scene and begun to drive forward into the crowd. it didn’t become a car crash site, no deaths occurred to your knowledge (thankfully).

but you were one of the ones in the front row seats, you fell to the ground and took some damage in a number of places. they were more of inconveniences than anything.

still—forcing your body to fight a trained swordsman was not a good idea.

and the fox has an eye for these things, sensing when his enemies are weak. at least it proves to be a disadvantage if you really are dangerous. his eyes linger on you as you rub your sore spots with the occasional groan. 

“the little mouse seems to be wounded.” he says. it’s clear he’s trying to extract some kind of information about the person who just popped out one day, “pray tell, what might be the cause of such?”

“i got, uhhh,” you can’t say car, those don’t exist yet— “knocked down by a horse.” admittedly, a horse is probably more dangerous than a car—but you deal with what you have.

“is that so.” with the smile and narrowed eyes of his, you knew that he didn’t buy it. but to your defense, your state clearly proves it in some way—so he deduced that you weren’t telling the complete truth.

and he welcomes it. it’d be his absolute pleasure to unravel the mystery.

eventually, he does. in promise to keep your secret away from others, you keep his. 

“so, little mouse,” the night has yet to pass, but you wish it did. your stuff was spilled in front of you, all evidence of you coming from the future, “was that cover-up story about the horse a lie?”

it’s a rhetorical question; he knew the answer already. still, you roll your eyes, “of course, we rarely use those in the future. a police car hit a crowd, and i was caught in it.”

promptly realizing he doesn’t know anything, a lengthy explanation ensued.

“oh my. and you said this, ‘car’ drove into a crowd? that’s highly dangerous, is it not?”

“it is!” your calm words slowly dissolve, your hands now waving in gestures, “and guess what, it’s the cops that do it! uhh—guards in old terms, i guess. y’know the people who’re said to supposedly protect us? yeah, hit us with a car.”

mitsuhide isn’t the most curious about the future. but he is a bit confused about the context.

and so you continue, explaining everything. from the start, to where you were, along with what your thoughts are on the whole situation

through all that, he stays silent, not commenting until you were thoroughly finished. you can’t read his expression—so you stare at him, waiting for even a word.

suddenly, he smiles, “well, looks like our little mouse is quite the something, aren’t you?” before you could respond with anything, he pats you on the head with a strange sense of softness, “pureness and ideals like you are rare in this world.”

in truth, he agrees. he’s someone who’s faced discrimination head on from being in the lower class—and he fights for a world that his lord would like to see. even if he’ll remain in the dark, for his stained, dark hands would only corrupt the purity. at least, so he thinks.

you look back with pursed lips and a slight frown, “then i’ll help make it more common. if it results in people being treated as people, i’ll do it.”

you don’t hear it, but he draws in a sharp breath. his eyes are muddled—with what, you don’t know—but you drop the thought as he lifts the hand off of your head with a chuckle, “i will say, i didn’t quite expect this.” 

they say eyes are the window of the soul. while he had his closed most of the time—you managed to peek in a small bit of warmth and fondness in them.

ᅠᅠ

—masamune:

you came to the sengoku period with a sprained ankle. which, in a time where war was rampant, probably wasn’t a good thing to have. especially when you’re being dragged into battle just for the fun of it.

although you admit you made yourself seem tougher than you were (with you being used to injuries like this before, so you’ve grown used to gritting your teeth), you still curse masamune to hell and back. no, you do not care if you’re on a horse or just in camp, your foot hurt like shit either way.

naturally, you wouldn’t take that for long.

thus the next time he planned to take you along (you could already see the glint in his eye), you snapped at him. well—much less ‘snap’ and more of ‘telling him off rather harshly ft. a sprinkle of swearing’.

“listen, assfart, my ankle’s been killing me, and if i’m going by that analogy, you’re practically desecrating it’s corpse and grave. so for the love of god, stop dragging me into battles!”

an expression of surprise went on his face for a moment, before it morphed to his usual grin, “is that so? seems like out kitten likes to run around and ended up hurting themselves.”

“not my fault they shot me in the fuckin’ ankle. . .” you mutter without a second thought under your breath, which he, unfortunately, heard.

“they shot you, lass?”

seeing his ever so slightly widened eye, you pursed your lips, “yeah. nothing too serious.”

even so, you see the way his eyes narrow with a glint—more so of excitement than anything else, “still though lassie, with you being under nobunaga, i doubt they’ll get away with hurtin’ ya.”

“what does that mean?”

fingers comb through your hair in a wild pat, accompanied with a fanged grin, “they won’t be alive for hurtin’ the lord’s precious lucky charm.”

your lips pursed as a frown pulls upon your brows, “i don’t want them to get away solely for me being nobunaga’s ‘lucky charm’.”

“and why is that, kitten?”

his eyes slightly lit up at your hardened and serious aura as you closed your eyes with a sigh. “the same people who hurt me are the same ones who’ve hurt many others, on the basis that they believe they’re above them; over a stupid thing like race. and i won’t be just letting it slide, even if i can’t fight or anything.”

the flame in your eyes are ones that masamune has grown to recognize; the anger and bitterness as you look back on a memory, only to fill up your heart with passion.

“i’ll die if it means that they’ll be punished and everyone is treated the same.”

silence rings past, the wind slowly becomes a solid aura in the air. stunned, he leaves a small chuckle and pats your head,

“the lord made a wonderful decision to bring ya here, lass.”

—ieyasu:

going by his usual self, he didn’t care much when you arrived, other than you were someone nobunaga picked up from his failed assassination. however, him being an expert in things health related, some things didn’t go by with him.

first of all, your eyes were a slight fade of red. at first he figured it was a leftover from honno-ji’s smokes, but as the days tick by, its persistence is now rather worrying. they should’ve faded away by now, so he thought.

and it became more and more painfully obvious, at least to him. the way you rubbed your eyes sometimes, them tearing up at random intervals—and even you squinting at rare occasions that, unless you had an eye problem like mitsunari, shouldn’t be there.

a seed of worry was planted, although he never expressed it. after all, you were being dragged into battle, where dust and more smoke can easily go into your already bugged eyes.

therefore one day, wordlessly, he took you to his workplace. at first, you were confused; ieyasu hasn’t exactly talked to you a lot.

he picks up a small bottle, along with a cup-like lid, “use this, and wash your eyes with it. and by that i mean just tilt it up and blink when it goes into your eyes.”

you just blinked a few times, stunned more than anything. “,,,, why?”

“you think i don’t notice?” he scoffs, “you’ve been rubbing your eyes like crazy, and it’s past the point where your eyes should even be red since the honno-ji incident. either your eyes have been having problems way before, or you’re just dumber and clumsier than i thought.”

“hey! it’s not my fault, for any of the incidents!”

“so there are multiple instances?”

the judgemental look sent your way was something that your stubborn mind won’t back out from, even if it mean having to somewhat explain your situation.

“w, well, there have been several uhm.... arson crimes in my town, i can’t help but be in the vicinity.”

if arson crimes translated to tear gassings, yes, there were many.

“arson crimes? your town is,,, jeez.”

“it’s not the citizens’ fault, look to the fuckin’ guards of our village for that.” the tone had immediately shifted from a kind of flustered banter, to immediate bitter undertones.

immediately, the silence rang on. ieyasu sat there, looking into you as much as he could, with his bare bones knowledge of you. the pieces were there, and it wasn’t hard to put them together. for a moment, he wondered if you were more than the unfortunate one to be pulled into this mess. but if your town was as much a mess as that. . . perhaps it was for the better.

“. . .then you’re planning to stay here, right?” he had his own opinions and thoughts of someone taking advantage of a high-powered lord taking them in, but eh, he thinks, people will do what they have to do to survive—

“not really. assuming nobunaga would even let me go in the first place.”

ieyasu stood there, stunned, “. . .you’re planning to go back to your own town? even from all the danger there?”

“yeah.” you look at him with a slight imbalanced expression, “i don’t have anywhere else to go, other than there, so. . .”

“but why not stay here? it’s safer, you do know that right?”

“of course,” you sigh, “but it’s still my home, all things considered. yeah, there’s a whole lot of corrupt things going on but, they’re still humans, the people i live with. i don’t wanna run away from it, i’d just. . .i’d like to try and help them also.:

ieyasu stays silent as you lean back to the wall, looking out the door with a fond and melancholic gaze, “the,,, guards in my town are doing this just cause of their stupid beliefs and whatever. superiority complex and whatnot. and people are dying because of it, only for things that they can’t control and. . . it’s just so bullshit.”

you turn back to him, with a strong light blaring in your eyes; filled with hope and determination, “wouldn’t you want to go back and help them? even if i get injured, as long as people will be treated the same and won’t face death for something miniscule, i consider it worth it.”

you’ve never seen him surprised at you; at least not in this sense. usually it’d be surprise at some mistake you did, making an offhand crude comment to it but here. . .here it’s partnered with the smallest bit of sparkle. like a hidden respect for you behind his uncaring persona.

you only look as he slowly stands up, his shadow befalling on you. with the same, yet subtle, amount of shine in his eyes as in yours, he sighs softly and takes your hand,

“at least if you’re gonna go into that kind of battlefield, let me teach your ditzy self how to take care of injuries first.”

—mitsunari:

your sudden arrival already aroused questions, as you’d appeared before nobunaga sporting a bloodied cut on your cheek. at the time, they took the assumption that the assassin did it to you.

and although it was fussed for a bit, it was quickly covered up with some cloth fitting for the period. and then, everything went as normal.

taking up job as mitsunari’s personal caretaker wasn’t one you’d reject, because really, how bad could it be? but the man himself kept insisting that you don’t, added that not only were you a special charm of nobunaga’s, you were also injured from the night of honno-ji. he couldn’t do that to you; not after such a stressful night.

and yet you were stubborn as well. with the final decision being up to nobunaga, which you accepted wholeheartedly, of course, you now had the role to take care of mitsunari.

although his. . .clumsy nature was one that you should be worried for, you find it that he often checks up on you, apologizing each time he could’ve potentially hurt you. and each time, you waved it off and assured him that yes, you were fine.

but you can see it in his eyes, the tint of guilt and worry that lingers on before he succumbs to his reading trance. truth is, the injury is just a mild inconvinience of pain, so there really wasn’t much to fuss over.

in his eyes, your degree has gotten much higher than before. whether your wound would’ve affected your job didn’t matter to him; it was the fact that you were hurt in the first place. you shouldn’t have to take care of him when you needed to take care of yourself! or so is what he thinks to himself.

and so he tries to make it up to you. you need reading lessons? he’ll try to squeeze it in his schedule! or maybe it’s time for a break, he’ll tour you around in the bustling city of azuchi. it feels like whenever you need something, he’s always there next to you, and you can’t help but feel charmed by it.

mitsunari isn’t one to notice details about a person if it isn’t in a situation like in battle. but he’s gotten very sharp at seeing the slight reactions and how you’re doing; and here’s what he’s picked up on:

other than the wound on your cheek, your stomach area seems to be bruised or something close to that. you might’ve not told anyone about it, cause he hasn’t heard a peep of that anywhere, not even when he kept asking politely (or bugging, in the man’s eyes) for ieyasu’s information.

so fuck it, he just decides to ask you one day.

“why do you have an injury on your stomach area?”

it was a lesson hour, you didn’t expect him to throw,,,that curveball. maybe more of, what does this character mean? or how do you write this word? but. . .

“uhm—an incident that happened before the whole honno-ji thing.”

“and you never told anyone, even lord ieyasu?”

“n, no, kinda.”

he’s serious than before, and yet there’s something in his eyes that’s very inviting, inviting you to tell your feelings and story, inviting you to a hug of warmth and safety.

and you succumb.

“. . . things have been happening in my town before i came here.” then what was once a lesson sessioin, turned into you explaining what you and the world was going through before coming to the sengoku, with many phrasings replaced of course.

“is that so. . .” he mutters, “i haven’t heard a case like this, although i don’t doubt there aren’t any. . .i should do some reasearches.. .”

“i-it’s fine, really. . .!”

you managed to convince him that it’s fiiine, he shouldn’t read up on it and just focus on his works (since it would render your story false pretty quickly,,).

“but you still haven’t explained how you got the injury.”

“oh yeah. i got kicked down by one of the guards and then i got this as a result.” you pointed at the covered up wound, now probably just a scar, on your cheek. mitsunari goes silent, then a slow and silent hum resonates in him.

you’ve never quite seen the look in his eyes as you did. they were sharper, even if you weren’t situated in a battlefield, and you could see the gears turn in his brain. for what, you’re not quite sure.

“mitsu,,,?”

and with just your voice, his clouded eyes clear up, and he sends his angelic smile your way, “it’s fine now, lady—” his voice rings gently like bells, “you’re now safer. .even if you want to go back there. but i’ll be here by your side to protect you always, so please remember.”

“. . .heh, alright. of course i will.”

[razorblade180]

Twin Snowflakes pt12: A Guest

“Nicholas? Niiiick? Nicky, wake up sweetie.” Said a voice called out through a void of darkness. It felt...familiar. He knew that voice. Where was he?

“Nick, open your eyes”

‘My...eyes were closed? How’d that happen? Last thing I remember was the exa-‘ the haze started to clear. ‘The exam! Val! Summer!’

The darkness slowly faded into light. Intense, blistering light. Nick felt his body began to move as if he was sitting up until a thump hit his head and felt himself fall back down on something soft. “Ow…” the hit felt like walking into a door. Nick’s vision finally cleared up and the first thing he saw was bright green eyes and orange hair right above him.

Nick:Penny?

Penny:Hello Nick. Your head okay? If I knew you were going to sit up so fast I would’ve made sure to move.

Nick:Talk about hard headed. Wait, if you’re here then am I in a lab?

Penny:No silly.

The girl helped Nick sit up; this time moving out the way. He was still in his clothes from earlier and the bed looked like it should be in a hospital. As well did the curtains around him. “Wait a second. I’m…” he pulled them away to see identical beds and a little office desk across the room. Each bed was empty but the one right next to him which held his sister. Summer looked at him a bit tired. Pillows propped her up and made leaning against the wall comfortable. A cup of half eaten yogurt was in her hands.

Nick:.....

Summer:What? Not used to being in the Nurse’s office? Count your lucky stars. That bed you’re in is the comfiest one.

Nick:I….you….what’s going on?

Penny:Simple! You passed out! Been that way for almost two hours.

Nick:Two hours!?

Summer:Why are you saying that like it’s a problem? That’s short, like incredibly short.

Nick:Not as short as yours apparently.

Summer:Well….Shiva has her benefits.

Just saying that made Summer a bit annoyed. She slumped down a little in her bed and stirred her yogurt.

Penny:Between genetics, aura, and some other factors, I’m not surprised you both are already awake from your triumphant battle!

Summer:(Wouldn’t be how I described it.)

Nick: Triumphant? We passed!?

Penny:With flying colors! I heard from Harriet as soon as she called me to treat the three of you. Needless to say, she was very impressed.

Nick:Speaking of three, where is Val?

Summer:She wasn’t as drained as us and bounced back pretty quick. She left as soon as she could move.

Nick:Aww, it would’ve been nice to celebrate together. I need to tell her thanks again since I begged her to help. Just like now I have to learn whatever song you have in store for me.

He gave a smile that made Summer a bit happy. A duet with him was something she was looking forward to, but it didn’t help her bruised self esteem. Summer gave Nick a fake smile to him before choosing to lay down. Her hair slightly hiding her face.

Nick didn’t fall for that cheap smile for a second, but he also knew now wasn’t the time to pressure her about it. If she was in a mood like this then he could only imagine what Val might be feeling. Hopefully she was fine.

Penny:Uhhh Nicholas? There’s something I’d like to ask you about. *pulls out scroll* Your match was recorded by multiple people and I saw something I found pretty interesting.

Nick:We got recorded? Honestly that shouldn’t surprise me.

Penny:The crowd was very energetic from the sound of it. Take a look.

A projection of the recording springs out of the scroll for a fuller view. Nick watched the playback of him and his team flipping around like some sort of acrobatic performance. The crowd seemed to love it though. Then came the part where Summer got hit. He looked at his sister who didn’t say anything about it. Then came Valerie’s defeat shortly after. His eyes studying the glyph he had made in order to summon the Gigas.

‘How’d I do that?’ He pondered quietly. Figuring out what he did differently this time from the others was going to be tough. The video continued until Penny paused it right where he was controlling ice blades that seemed to spin around him and obey his movements. A slight blush showing on his face appeared as Penny grinned happily at him.

Penny:They say imitation is the best form of flattery. Most of your moves are undeniably learned by your parents but I can’t help but think you had another inspiration in mind.

Nick:Hehe, I was panicking a bit in the end and all I could think about was overwhelming it with swords. Looks like I was influenced by you.

Penny:It has been quite some time since I’ve done any real fighting so I’m glad I left a strong impression from what you’ve seen. I would love to teach you some basics whenever you want.

Nick:Really? You’d train me a bit!?

Penny:Why of course! Lab work is important but it does get a little tedious and repetitive unfortunately. Teaching sounds like a splendid way to change up my routine.

Nick:I might take you up on that offer. Thanks Penny!

Penny:It is my pleasure! I enjoy supporting the two of you where I can. Oscar feels the same. I’m almost a little jealous about how much he praises your strength and conviction Summer.

Summer:He….thinks I’m strong?

Penny:He’s not the only one. Truly you are quite exceptional.

Nick:Yeah she is! She’s my sister after all. I can’t tell you how many times she’s kicked my butt.

Summer:....May we please have the room to ourselves Penny?

Penny:Huh? O...kay. Let me just-

Suddenly the nurse door flew open and hit the wall. “There you are Nicholas!” Everyone immediately turned around and saw Eliza standing with her hands on her hips and her eyes beaming angrily at her school president.

Nick:Why hello Mrs. Marigold. T-

Eliza:Cut the crap. You get the information for the play or what?

Summer:Play?

Nick:....Are you not aware I’ve been doing an exam?

Eliza:I’m aware that you got rag dolled by choice because of how impatient you are.

Penny:(But isn’t she acting the same?)

Nick:Listen it doesn’t even matter. I just told you all that stuff to get you off my back.

Eliza:You what!? But-

Nick:Relax. Have faith in your president. Isn’t that part of your job as secretary? Scrap the whole play idea; Summer agreed to a concert.

Summer:H-Hello…

Eliza:Wait, you’re actually going through with it? No flaking or half assing this time?

Summer:I wouldn’t do that for something so important. You...you have my word!

Eliza:Hmmmm

Nick:Can we have this discussion another time please?

Eliza:By another time do you mean doing what you want while the rest of us adapt? Fat chance! You do realize by not accurately informing me of your plan I’ve wasted precious time making a list of proper things we’ll need for nothing! What am I supposed to tell the other members!?

Summer:She has a point.

Penny:Indeed, you have possibly wasted resources.

Nick:This meeting was the other day. How much work could you have possibly-

Eliza chucks a scroll right at his face. Nick flinches in pain as the device hits his nose. He picks it up and to see a list of concepts Eliza had worked on. Then he scrolled down, and down, and down…..

He kept going for minutes until he eventually gave up on reaching the bottom. Nick could feel her stare on him.

Eliza:That much. That much work. Unlike you, I don’t get a slap on the rest or the luxury to slack of. I’m not a Schnee.

Nick:....

Summer:That’s..not fair. Nick does a lot for this-

Eliza:Your money and name does a lot for this school. Yes the two of you have gained achievements on your own right but out of fun or convenience. Not because you acted in the interest of the school. If you bothered to school let alone a meeting then you might notice these things; sending in your treasury report via Nicholas shows just how much you actually care.

Summer:I care...honestly.

Eliza:Then start acting like it!

Nick:Hey, don’t yell at my sister. I promise we will-

Eliza:To hell with your promises! Prove me wrong by keeping me in the loop. From here on out. The quality of your work is never the problem. I’m sure this concert idea will be amazing, but if you expect me to even show up to help set up or catch any mistake then you two will personally ask me. Because I’m not going to be proactively crossing your t’s or dotting your I’s. My time can be spent doing other things. Like making sure I get enough practice in to knock that royal bum of yours right out of the ring dear president.

The room fell silent with that declaration of war. Penny watched Nick stand from his bed then hand his challenger back her scroll. He didn’t look upset or exactly thrilled either as he stared up into Eliza’s golden eyes. He could tell that all that anger was mostly frustration and mostly exhaustion from the dark rings under her eyes. Even her signature pigtails were undone. ‘I’ve put you through the ringer huh?’ He thought, slightly guilty.

Nick:You got yourself a deal. Good luck with training. The jump from third place to second is steeper than you think.

Eliza:Guess I’ll overshoot and try getting to first. Be sure to protect that pretty face of yours. I might feel bad scaring it. I’m going home. *walking away*

Nick:Why were you even after school? You always get your work done.

Eliza:I thought that would be obvious. I heard an idiot in my grade had tried talking the expedited exam with two more idiots. Someone had to make sure their parents were informed in case of an emergency. Now go home and get some rest. Your sorry state is bad for morale. *leaves*

Penny:I probably shouldn’t say anything but by the time I’ve gotten here, Eliza had gathered whatever medical supplies I might’ve needed. As well as given me the recording. I think she might’ve been rooting for you three. Or at the very least wanted you to learn from this experience.

Nick:She wants no doubt in her mind if she manages to beat me. Or that’s what I think. She benefits from this tournament even more than us. It’s no mystery why she wants it perfect.

Summer:Then that lecture she gave makes her look like a hypocrite. So much for the pride of the school.

Nick:This school is probably more of a home than her actual home. Mr. Marigold never struck me as the nurturing type. I suppose that’s more reason why she’s so uptight.

Penny:You could stand to be more….aware. Spreading yourself then and tunnel visioning on problems not necessarily your concern tends to make you oblivious to simple solutions.

Nick:What? Not sure I quite understand.

Summer:(Of course you don’t…) Hey Nick…?

Nick:Yeah?

Summer:(Tell him...tell him the truth. He’s your twin for crying out loud. Just…) let’s go home. It’s only going to get colder and I wanna walk.

Nick:Alright. Let me just get my things.

Summer watches him gather his things quickly; ignoring any soreness he might have. A glance in Penny’s direction shows a similar expression of concern and sadness. She couldn’t tell who it was directed towards though.

Summer:(I’m so….)

Pathetic….

xxxx

“Maybe….if I told you then. Things would not have gotten so dire. My dear brother who would stop the world for me if need be. I should’ve let you into mine. Why didn’t I let you in?”

xxxx

It was the afternoon, the roads a little backed up from workers going home. Valerie looked at the busy traffic lights through the passenger window. Stewing in her thoughts.

Ren:You okay? Haven’t heard a peep from you since you got into the car.

Valerie:I’m fine.

Ren:Try again.

Valerie:I’m extremely upset.

Ren:There you go.

Valerie:Did you see the video?

Ren:I did. It looked intense.

Valerie:Then you saw how poorly I did?

Ren:I saw how much effort you put into it. That’s something to be proud of.

Valerie:I was a burden.

Ren:Without you then the battle would’ve been lost. Summer and Nicholas couldn’t have shined without you.

Valerie:We barely passed and the only one shining at the end was Nick while I played victim.

Ren:So are you mad about your performance or the fact Nick was the one who bailed you out? Not that there’s nothing wrong in basking in a bit of limelight.

Valerie:You know I don’t care about that sort of thing.

Ren:I know, winning is your motivation. So are friends, but your friend winning for you all has you upset?

Valerie:You make it sound so strange.

Ren:It is when you are a sports player that always plays support. Didn’t matter if it was soccer, hockey, or football. You took pride in defending your team so they can score. Even your semblance is remarkable for keeping any team you are on as strong as possible.

Valerie:This is different though.

Ren:Would you be saying that if Summer landed the final blow, or was the one saving you?

That struck a nerve. One she couldn’t deny but refused to admit. Valerie opted to ignore her father. A tactic that only proved him to be on the right track.

Ren:He’s gotten stronger, that Nicholas. These days you two seem more equal than ever besides height. I remember when-

Valerie:Dad, what are you doing? Just shoot straight with me please?

Ren:Don’t let whatever people might be saying at school tarnish your relationship with him. You should be happy seeing him get stronger and independent; willing to return any help you gave.

Valerie:People think he’s great enough as he is and always tell me how lucky I am to have him but it’s never the other way around. Him saving me is only going to make people talk more.

Ren:So you would rather get injured and be of no help to anyone than let Nick save you? Also, are you saying that you don’t feel lucky to have such a person in your life.

Valerie:Of course I’m lucky to have him! Nicholas is so kind and sweet. Not to mention grateful! Just before the exam he told me how lucky he was to have me in his life. There is no one else besides Summer, no, even Summer agrees that he should get nothing but the best in life. It doesn’t change the fact that it’s annoying how people see me as an accessory whenever we are together.

Ren:....

Valerie:*red* But not together, together.

Ren:I didn’t say anything. So, what you’re saying is you’re upset that him getting stronger would make you feel like what everyone says about you needing him true?

Valerie:Exactly. Which is why I can’t lose that tournament. Staying on top is too important.

Ren:If you say so.

Valerie:.....Why do I have a feeling you’re disappointed in me?

Ren:I’m not disappointed in you. I just hope you take more time to really evaluate what you’re implying and what it actually means. You owe that not just to yourself, but Summer and Nicholas as well.

Valerie:You can’t just tell me?

Ren:If I did then it wouldn’t stick. Just know Nicholas cares about from the bottom of his heart and sees your accomplishments as that, yours. I think that means more than what any gossip floating around your school means.

Valerie still didn’t get what exactly her father was trying to get at. Even so, she could feel her cheeks getting warm from his words. Nicholas caring about her wasn’t new information. It was what everyone knew since forever. Another piece of the problem. She would say it was terrible but it wasn’t. It was simply confusing, and she felt weird? That’s what it always came back to in the end. Thinking of him felt weird and confusing

Ren glanced over and saw his daughter in a clear state of not being at odds with herself. Making similar expressions that his wife did countless times thinking about him.

Ren:(You’ll figure it out. Hopefully)

xxxx

Summer and Nick didn’t speak much on the way home. The twins were too busy processing today’s events. They had accomplished their goal but the ending had soured their experience. Nick found himself with more work while Summer was sulking.

It wasn’t too long before they made it to the manor gate

Nick:Phew! I don’t know about you but I could use a hot shower.

Summer:Go right ahead. I might skip one tonight: not feeling up to it.

Nick:....Weren’t you going to tell me something before Eliza showed up? Now is the perfect time. I doubt mom and dad will just let us sneak to our rooms.

Summer:It’s alright. It wasn’t too important.

Nick:Summer you’re not, mad at me are you?

Summer:Huh? What makes you say that?

Nick:I don’t know. You’ve just felt distant lately. I figured I did something wrong.

Summer:No, just a little burnt out. It’s pretty frustrating to see you perform a full summoning. I'll admit that. It seems like I’m always just missing people’s expectations. If only I could’ve done just a bit more.

Nick:You know that win would’ve been impossible with you right? I used the ice you made and the arm you managed to cut off.

Summer:Capitalizing off my effort and actually pulling my weight are two different things Nick. If I won a match because you tossed me your sword, would you say you really helped?

Nick:Point taken. Still, it’s not like I knew exactly what I was doing. It sort of happened. I doubt I could do it again without training. Adrenaline won that match honestly. Like I said earlier, you’ve kicked me butt before. You’re stronger than you look.

Summer:Yeah well, I’m glad one of us thinks that.

Nick:Don’t be like that. I bet even Veronica would- uhhh Summer?

Summer:Did you realize you were about to say something incredibly wrong?

Nick:No, well a little. That’s not what stopped me though. Yang’s motorcycle is parked in front of the house.

He pointed through the gates and there it was, clear as day. Along with two helmets. One yellow, and the other black with yellow stripes. Summer felt a headache coming on.

Summer:Son of a-

Nick:It could be Blake!? Then again, she always grabs the purple hand black helmet. Also Vee did mention about aiding in tournament setup if she could.

Summer:You’re not helping. I’m sneaking through the back. Keep her distracted.

Nick:Don’t be like that. It’s been awhile since we’ve seen her. Besides, I bet she’s tired from her trip.

xxxx

Summer:.....

Nick:Well I’ve been wrong before. Heheheh..

The two stood in the living room and saw Veronica stretched out on their couch, watching the fight recording. Specifically the part when Summer gets sent flying. The two hear a subtle snort followed by chuckling and what sounds like a pencil scribbling away.

Veronica’s ears perk up and she turns around to see Nick who’s face palming and Summer clenching her fist.

Veronica:Well look who’s back? Hello Nicholas! *swaying tail*

Nick:Hey Vee.

Veronica:I see you’re looking just swell after an eventful day. *turns head* Summer….

Summer:Veronica…..

…..

Veronica:You ate shit today huh?

Nick:Sigh...

Summer:Couldn’t help yourself huh? Then again, self control isn’t really your style.

Veronica:I’m just not afraid to be direct unlike a certain pop star.

Summer:I also do alternative rock, some acoustic. I’m multi-talented like that.

Veronica:If you say so.

Summer:What’s that supposed to mean?

Three minutes in and already testing boundaries. Worst yet, Summer had folded her arms and took a stance that Ruby has once described to Nick as the “OG Weiss” mom was apparently a lot to deal with when Ruby first met her. The attitude Summer got around Veronica was pretty uncanny. Yang and Ruby’s words, not his.

He was thinking about nipping this in the bud but they both seemed to be too tired to actually get into it. Maybe the trip had wore Veronica down because she went back to playing the rest of the video and laying down and Summer walked off.

Summer:I’m going to shower.

Nick:I thought-

Summer:I’m going to shower Nicholas.

Nick:Take your time. I’ll wait.

Veronica:Aren’t there like five showers here?

Nick:They share water pressure. Did you really have to antagonize her like that? We’re having a bit of a rough day. A calm welcome would’ve been nice for once.

Veronica:*folds ears* My bad. I’ll hold my tongue next time, for you.

Nick:Will you?

Veronica:Do I ever lie to you?

Nick:Not that I know of. Wouldn’t see why you would though.

Veronica:Then you have your answer.

Nick:Good to see you’re still coy as ever. I’m gonna change into something comfy. Please have something different on the tv when I get back.

Veronica:Oookay. *smiles*

Nick:Nice outfit by the way. Purple looks good on you. *leaves*

Veronica:*red* Huh….guess mom was right. Geez, now I really have to be on my best behavior.

Part 11

[emma-nation]

Bloodline - KamilahxMC Fanfiction (Chapter 4) *Ending*

Summary: A Feral attack, a mysterious serum and a big mistake… what consequences will it bring to Kamilah’s life and her relationship with Amy?

Rating: T

KamilahxMC Tag List: @iam-the-fuckin-queen, @annabellewerecorgi, @voltos9, @scorpistraub, @leavemeandmyshipsalone, @jen825, @andreear17, @spacecarrousel, @justejuste727, @aureliaxj, @graceschoices, @sleeping-with-her06, @supersphynxsworld, @gavryllo, @galaxyside-0, @msuhailey, @zoe6111, @ptxgirwaffles, @tigerbryn11, @shanuuh, @ilovetaylor13m, @honorablebicycle, @ilovekamilahsayeed, @fal-carrington, @begging-for-kamilah, @kennaxval

The Battle - 1 month later, 6 PM

Struggling with severe pain, Kamilah reached for her cell phone and dialed Adrian’s number.

“Adrian… that’s me…” she lay on the couch, but it wouldn’t bring her any relief, “my assistant… she betrayed me! I’m losing my child… help me.”

In less than 10 minutes Adrian was already by her office’s door, trying to break it down.

“Kamilah, I can’t open it,” he shouted from outside. “What’s going on?”

“That traitor…” Kamilah’s eyes flared red in anger, “she must have activated the security locks.”

Dragging herself around her office, she managed to get to her computer and disable all the security system, what helped Adrian to get in.

“Let me check you,” though Adrian wasn’t a doctor, he examined her briefly. “You… You’re having an hemorrhage. If we don’t do something quickly…”

Kamilah can’t quite remember the next few minutes, between the drive to Raines Corporation and the arrival of a doctor, who worked for Adrian. She was wincing and sweating cold in pain. Her mind couldn’t focus on anything else. Meanwhile they discussed the best procedure to attempt to save her son.

The doctor placed her on IV fluids, with a medication that would neutralize the effects of the abortive substance she ingested and ease her pain.

“I’m so sorry, Kamilah,” Adrian squeezed her hand. “This is all my fault. I’ll never be able to forgive myself if…”

“That’s okay,” Kamilah lied. Deep down, she was falling apart. As usual, she was only doing her best to hide it. “Vampires aren’t meant to be parents for a reason, Adrian.”

“This isn’t true. You could’ve… You will be an incredible mom.”

She fought a smile. Suddenly, she remembered an important detail she was missing.

“Can you call Amy for me? Somebody needs to inform her."

He sighed and went to his office to make the call.

The doctor returned to conduct more exams. Kamilah looked at the monitor by her side, displaying her vitals and her baby’s vitals too. While hers were completely steady, his heart rate was abnormally high, showing signs of distress and agony. The doctor was surprised he was still alive.

When she was alone, she placed her hand over her stomach once again.

"So little and having to fight such a hard battle…” she told. “We’ve got a lot in common after all.”

Her mother also had a difficult birth when she and Lysimachus were born. With a fragile health, common for that era, she died only a few years later, when they were only 7 years old. Her father was mostly at war, leaving them at the care of his siblings and closest relatives, who never really cared about their well-being. They had thrones to be conquered and wars to be won, so she and Lysimachus basically raised themselves. Her twin brother was everyone she had. No one had been able to fill the emptiness his death left inside her soul. Until she met Amy.

“Kamilah!” The girl appeared by the laboratory’s door, her eyes were wide in scare. “A-Are you alright? How is…”

She looked at the monitors.

“The doctor just checked on us. He’s not in a good shape, Amy.”

“But…"

Tears started falling from the girl’s eyes. That destroyed Kamilah more than the fact she had been betrayed itself.

"I… uhhh…” Kamilah attempted to find an excuse to make her feel better. “I should have been more cautious with people surrounding me. Of course they’d hear the rumors.”

Her words didn’t comfort Amy at all.

“Hey,” Kamilah reached for her hand. “No matter what happens, I want you to know how much I appreciated these weeks we’ve grown closer. They made me realize I want to…”

Before she could finish, Adrian entered the room followed by the doctor.

“Kamilah, how are you feeling?” Adrian asked.

“I feel no more pain.”

“It’s a good signal. Your body is fighting off the substance, now we must see how the baby will react.”

Time enough had passed for the medication to be effective. The following hours were decisive.

When Kamilah woke up after some sleep, the doctor was ready to conduct more tests. She felt a heaviness in her chest, thinking that her son could not be alive anymore. That she wouldn’t even have the chance of seeing his face and analyze what features he had inherited from her or Amy.

The device was pressed on her belly and that sweet, comforting sound echoed again around the room. Kamilah smiled and Amy broke down in tears again.

“He’s perfectly fine,” the doctor announced. “As if he had never been affected.”

“He’s… He descends from the tree,” Adrian added. “It means…”

“He’s immune to almost everything,” Kamilah completed, “except for the tree itself.”

“Exactly.”

———-

The Proposal - 3 months later, 8 PM

Being 5 months pregnant, it was time for Kamilah to make the official announcement to the press. She could hide it for a little bit longer, if she wanted. For Amy’s frustration, her body shape wouldn’t let her belly show too much. Depending on the clothes she was wearing, no one could notice yet.

Anyways, sooner or later, the story about her pregnancy would leak and she wanted to avoid the stress of dealing with paparazzi. She scheduled an interview with a magazine, right after confirming a dinner with Amy’s parents that night.

They couldn’t tell them the whole truth. But they mentioned a research Adrian was doing, mixing both of their DNAs and how it was accidentally injected on Kamilah. All the part related to Vampires and the Tree Of Eternal Life was omitted.

At first, they were in shock and concerned about Amy, for being so young and unprepared.

“Don’t worry about that, Mrs. Parker,” Kamilah assured. “I can guarantee you Amy is more than prepared to be a mom. She has been taking a very good care of me, I mean… us, in the last few months.”

After that, they both became emotional with the news. It was less tense as Kamilah imagined, they even seemed to like her. Amy’s father was very interested in her company and how she managed to control a global business so easily. Amy’s mother was already making plans for the baby’s room and telling how much she’d love to help with the decoration. Between all that conversation, Kamilah decided it was time to drop the question.

“Mr. and Mrs. Parker,” she cleared her throat. “The reason why I asked Amy to schedule this dinner was not only to announce our pregnancy. There’s another matter I’d like to discuss with you.”

Amy looked at her confused.

“What is it, Kamilah?” Amy’s father asked.

“As much as I appreciate the wonders of the modern world Amy is always introducing me to, I think some formality should be preserved. So, would you both grant me permission to ask your daughter to marry me?”

“Kamilah, you don’t have to…” Amy interrupted, already breaking down in tears. It impressed Kamilah how she became more emotional with motherhood, even if she was the one carrying the baby.

“Of course,” Amy’s father nodded. “My daughter couldn’t have picked a better wife.”

“Yes,” following her daughter’s reaction, Amy’s mother was crying too. “My little girl… she has never looked so happy before. And since she started dating you, she has grown so much. You’ve made her a serious and responsible woman.”

“Mom, the embarrassment, please.”

Kamilah took a small velvet box from the pocket of her suit and opened it, revealing a ring with a huge diamond on it.

“Amy, will you marry me?” She finally asked.

“A million times yes!” Amy embraced her tightly, after Kamilah slipped the ring on her finger.

———-

The Arrival - 7 months later, 7 PM

Like Kamilah herself, her son was very punctual. He decided to make his entrance to this world by the exact date he was supposed to born. And he couldn’t have picked a better time, just when Kamilah had finished an important business meeting.

As her water broke and her contractions started, Amy placed her inside one of the company’s cars and started to drive through the New York traffic like a maniac. If the pain didn’t kill Kamilah first, her fiancée would certainly do. They stopped in front of Raines Corporation and an employee came to help, taking them to the laboratories. A doctor was already waiting.

“It hurts…” Kamilah grimaced. “I’ve been beaten, shot, stabbed, burned… nothing ever hurt like this!”

“Y-You need to stay calm…” Amy suggested, “a-and breathe… j-just like this…”

“Are you telling this to me or yourself?”

“Both. God, I feel I’m going to faint.”

Amy paced nervously around the room, torn between supporting Kamilah and avoid looking too much.

“Okay,” the doctor told Kamilah. “I can almost feel him. I need you to push harder.”

Kamilah had suddenly lost all her strength. She was consumed by pain. All she desired were more and more pain killers. For a second, she wondered if the pregnancy had turned her back to a mortal.

“I-I can’t…” she told between pants. “I can’t do this…”

“Of course you can!” Amy squeezed hard on her hand. “Kamilah, you’ve fought wars, you’ve lead revolutions, you’re the CEO of an empire. You can do anything.”

“Oh Amy, that’s sweet. But none of it has caused THIS much of pain!”

She took a deep breath and continued to push, as harder as she could. Minutes later, the doctor was holding her baby boy in his arms.

He didn’t cry much. Only enough to let them know he was perfectly healthy. The first time Kamilah held that little creature, her entire world changed. She realized she had been wrong, all this time. She hadn’t experienced everything that was to feel. That feeling was something entirely new. The best feeling she ever had in over two thousand years of life.

“He’s perfect,” her thumb gently caressed the baby’s face.

“He…” Amy was sobbing so much could barely speak. “He… is…”

“He’s a perfect mix of you and me.”

Adrian was standing in the corner of the room, in tears too.

“Come here,” Amy called him and the two hugged each other tightly. “Kamilah has brought a champagne bottle in the car. We need to celebrate.”

“Congratulations, you both,” he smiled. “It’s a gorgeous and strong boy.”

“Would you like to hold him?” Kamilah asked. That was the right thing to do. Besides giving her son life, Adrian was also the most supportive uncle in the last few months.

Adrian nodded and took the baby boy in his arms. Kamilah could tell there was a little bit of pain in his smile, from remembering of his son, Charles.

“Such a handsome and tough guy can only have an important name, have you decided yet?” He asked both Kamilah and Amy.

“I’ve always wanted to honor my brother, but that would be quite a complicated name for these times. So, I’m honoring somebody else. Someone that deserves to be honored as much as my brother…”

Amy gave her an approving nod.

“Adrian, this is Malik Charles Sayeed.”

“And Malik,” she took her baby boy back, as Adrian could no longer hold his emotions. “This is your uncle Adrian. I have a strange feeling you’ll get along very well…”

———-

The Boy - 3 years later, 4:30 PM

With Amy by her side, Kamilah toasted to another great contract she managed to close. Since her wife had joined her in the company, Ahmanet Financial was only growing and improving, worldwide.

Amy glanced at her cell phone, with a worried look on her face.

“Kamilah, it’s one of the caretakers,” she told. “Malik isn’t in the educational space.”

“What?!” Kamilah shouted. “You check the building. I’ll go to my office and check the security cameras.”

Kamilah’s heart was thundering inside her chest. Since the incident with Erin, she could trust absolutely no one to look after her son.

Genetically speaking, he was a Vampire, but he only displayed a few signs. Malik would never get sick and everytime he got hurt, the wound would instantly heal. He never showed fangs, red eyes or desire for blood. Yet. Adrian thought it was possible someday. If something triggered the full transition. He also got some Bloodkeeper abilities, even being a male. For her luck, he was only able to access the most recent memories of a Vampire.

Besides that, he was the only heir of one the largest and most successful companies in America. He was an easy target for kidnapping.

She opened her office’s door, ready to lunge directly at her desk. But there was he, together with his personal caretaker. A vampire from Kamilah’s clan, who was forced to leave her family behind when she was Turned. She cared for Malik as her own son.

“Mrs. Sayeed,” Carrie told. “He was very bored after he finished his activities before the rest of the children. He became disruptive and insisted on coming to your office.”

“This little stubborn brat…” Kamilah frowned, still affected by the scare. “You can go, Carrie. I’ll handle him.”

Malik was innocently playing at her desk, dialing false numbers on her phone and trying to mimic her with his sweet three years old voice.

“Ahmanet Finances. Mr. Sayeed speaking.”

Upon that, the frown quickly disappeared from Kamilah’s face.

Her son was kind and loving, never showing any aggressiveness against a single person. Inheriting Amy’s personality, he was very sociable and communicative. And he certainly had Kamilah’s brains, being good with numbers and puzzles since very early.

“Hey,” Kamilah called his attention. “What are you doing here?”

“Mama!” He stopped what he was doing to jump straight into her arms. “I missed you.”

“Oh. I missed you too.”

She took him back to her desk, holding him in her arms. Malik was growing so quickly she could swear it would stop being possible anytime soon.

“I made a drawing,” he told, excited.

“Really? Let me see it.”

Kamilah took the paper in her hands. All she could see were a bunch of scrawls that resembled human shapes. Malik started to point the people he drew.

“That’s me, you and mama Amy. Here’s uncle Adrian, auntie Lily and uncle Jax.”

Something in the corner of the drawing called Kamilah’s attention. Unlike of the rest of that drawing, that figure was easy to distinguish. She felt a shiver going down her spine.

“And here, Malik. What is it?”

“A tree.”

“Have you…” she swallowed hard. “Have you seen this tree before?”

The boy nodded.

“In my dreams.”

“And how does it make you feel? Do you like it? Do it scares you?”

The boy was pensive for a moment before laughing to himself.

“No, mama. It’s just a tree.”

“Okay.”

Keeping the drawing on her desk, she started to think if that should be a sign of concern or not. Also descending from Rheya, Amy had visions about the tree all the time and she never turned evil. So why would her son? Kamilah shrugged, letting go of her thoughts.

“Mama, I wanna play,” Malik looked at her with puppy dog eyes.

“What game would you like to play?” Kamilah asked, already knowing the answer.

“You know.”

Kamilah sighed and took something from her secret drawer. Her brother’s wooden toy.

“Close your eyes,” she ordered. “I’m gonna hide it somewhere in this office. If you find it, you’ll get a prize.”

“Ice cream?” Malik asked, covering his eyes with his tiny hands.

“Yes,” Kamilah rolled her eyes. “Ice cream.”

That kid knew how to trick Kamilah into give him what he wanted just well. She hid the toy behind a plant vase, an easy spot for her son to find.

“Ready?” She asked.

The boy nodded. Before started searching, he discreetly gave a quick touch on his mother’s hand. Closing his eyes, he could see exactly where the wooden toy was placed.

“Found it,” he went to the exact spot Kamilah hid the toy. “I win!”

She rolled her eyes and complained, realizing what he had just done.

“You and Amy are no fun to play with. But okay, you’ve won. Let’s find mama Amy and get your ice cream.”

———-

Notes: I considered doing an epilogue, showing Malik’s full Turning when he’s 18 years old, but let’s end this with a happy ending, right? ;)