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argethara · 2 years

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A/N: Hello, argethara reporting! I’m back from customer service hell. Here’s a piece to celebrate my freedom. A sweet crackfic from @levihanbaryo‘s pool of prompts. I hope y’all are still obsessed with levihan as much as I do. If not, why???

Oh, and btw! Levihan Baryo admins and participants are working hard to finish a zine for our beloved ship. Please support and root for our works soon!

You can also hang-out with us in our Discord server. Just DM me for the link.

Okay, here goes my trash.

PROMPT: Levi got a huge crush on Dr. Hange Zoe so he decided to receive an extra dose of vaccine from them.

C/W: Profanities, crack medical process (please this is the prompt given, don’t be mad)

(Context: Yes, this is COVID-19 vaccine. Yes, in our country, people get 2 shots of the vaccine and 2 booster shots. Yes, we don’t have a lot of the J&J brand.)

It’s not everyday that a person like Levi Ackerman gets nervous as shaking, heart popping out of his chest kind of nervous. Heck, he wasn’t even an inch close to this scared when he was brought by his uncle to a clinic one random day to finally be an actual man. He didn’t even cry after the procedure. Didn’t flinch when he got home with a pain worth his life on his official man dong. And he’s barely eleven years old then.

Levi “the strongest” Ackerman wasn’t this restless on his first job interview too.

So why does meeting a doctor for a vaccination schedule make him squeak?

Goddamn, it’s more embarrassing to think that he does mixed martial arts in his free time and he’s acting all anxious on his seat for a second-long puncture on his skin.

“Neeeeext!”

Levi stands up and sits on the next chair. It’s almost his turn and he can feel the rush of blood in his veins more, the sweat profusely dropping and staining his baby blue button down shirt. His eyes grow when he tries to peek and the wetness shows on the fabric. He immediately closes his arms to his sides, sitting straight and looking around, trying to find that familiar face.

And there they are. In one corner of the hall, he can see them talking with an elderly woman and throwing the used syringe in the biohazard bin. Levi starts gawking as his surroundings fade into view and his focus tunnels to the bird nest on their head, sliding his vision on the gorgeous bridge sitting nicely between their never-fading, blazing hazelnut eyes, crinkling as their wide smile brightens the whole place.

A noise ruins his pink slow motion filter.

“Neeext!” “Neeext!”

His knees start to wobble a bit. The nurse gives him a strange look. As he draws near, he realizes something that makes all his shakiness replaced with cold disappointment.

After sweating and doing all the math in his head, the person they came for stands up and says, “Better get back to the hospital. See you tomorrow, Dr. Yeager!”

“Thank you for assisting today, Zoe. Oh, if you see Eren around, tell him to go home early,” Dr. Yeager replied.

“Copy that, Doc! Your son really bakes amazing stuff, I’ll make sure to buy some eclairs for my interns.”

“You bet. Rest too, sweetheart.”

No, stay, Levi wishes silently.

The person laughed beautifully, loudly. Levi stops on his tracks, which the nurse guiding him obviously didn’t appreciate.

“Sir, it’s your turn-”

And Levi does his mental calculation again as he watches the person fix their things, preparing to head out of the facility.

He looks at this Dr. Yeager which eerily reminds him of his spiteful mixed martial arts club mate in college. Who also likes to say, “Don’t let them know your next move” when he’s about to lose the match.

Don’t let them know your next move

He hates to admit but he does exactly what the pathetic monkey is chanting in his head.

He does the unexpected.

Looking at the nurse that is already frowning harder than he could, he frowns his hardest, clenching his chest with a fist, and kneels dramatically on the floor. “Eugh” “Eugh!”

The nurse watches him heartlessly as she sighs.

He drops down to the floor further with his hands on his chest, emphasizing the “Eugh” as he continues. He feels his face is so red at that point. He has never done this all his life.

His eyes are still closed. He is becoming more self-conscious and realizes this is the most regrettable decision he has made. Or not, his mind debates. If he gets the attention of that damn doctor, bugging his wits to its end every night, then this shitty act might be worth it after all.

Good fucking thing that I’m a hundred kilometers away from my city.

The things I do, just so I could call you mine.

Mikasa’s playlist started consoling him away from his current state. Oh to do some stupid teenage lovesick bullshit when you’re in your thirties.

“Sir, please calm down! I’m Pieck, a nurse. Where does it hurt?”

Levi opened an eye. The snobbish nurse is near him.

Fuck, just get out here.

He glances at where the person is and they are watching him. Good, he rolls a bit towards Dr. Zoe, bumping to some chairs.

The damn nurse held him in place by his shoulder.

“Sir! Open your eyes. Please tell me where it hurts so I can help you. Try not to move much.”

Go fucking away!

Levi has the urge to yell but his act will be caught and he doesn't want his efforts to fail. He’s already doing a ridiculous way of getting their attention, and might as well succeed.

“I- I, my b-brain an-d my heart fucking hurts,” he suddenly said.

Yes, my brain is at the edge. I don’t know how to keep up nor end this shit I started.

“Huh? Can you stand, Sir? What’s your name?” Nurse Pieck asked.

God, help me.

“No.” I won’t stand unless Dr. Zoe will get me up.

The nurse makes him lie on the ground and he complies, not knowing what his next move will be anymore. Seems like he’s not stupid enough to pull of a stupid decision like Zeke does. His fist is still on his chest to keep the act straight.

“What’s happening?”

Hallelujah.

“Oh, Doc Zoe! He’s sweating and panting hard but I haven’t checked any vital signs yet. He said his brain and heart hurts. He’s been like this for two minutes now.”

“Alright. Thank you, Pieck.” Levi feels a presence on his right side.

He opened his eyes to the brunette when they touched his forehead.

The pants got harder.

Fucked. I am fucked. Why did I do this?

“Sir, can you speak? What’s your name?”

Their sparkling brown eyes are at him. Curious, like he’s a fucking specimen in the lab but that’s alright. He made them stay.

His chest actually tightens. Breathtaking.

Dr. Zoe chuckled and he blinked. Shit, he almost forgot he’s acting.

“What’s your name?” They repeated.

“Levi,” he muttered.

“Okay, Levi, I’m Dr. Hange Zoe. Is the pain still there?”

“A-ah, Y-yea. It’s… I can’t breathe properly.”

“Rate your pain from 1-10.”

“Earlier 8, now it’s 5.”

“Can you stand?”

“Yeah.”

“Now we’re talking!” They beamed at the nurse and the latter rolled her eyes.

“You can leave Levi to me now, Nurse. You can attend to the others.”

Pieck huffed, “I can handle this, though! You’re about to go out.”

“It’s okay. I still have some time. I’ll just go to the cafe next time.”

Pieck gives him a look one last time and goes back to the other people on the line. Dr. Zoe helps him to sit on a chair. They’re smiling like it’s business as usual but it’s enough for Levi’s heart to actually palpitate abnormally.

“Ah, can you hold on for a minute?”

Levi nods as a response. He dares not to look around. He knows they’re still watching. Especially the witch that was assisting him earlier. Her eyes are sending laser beams from afar, he can tell.

They step out and he watches them instead.

When they get back to him, they give them a cup of water. And they both sit quietly as he downs the liquid.

The doctor takes a breath and smiles as he glances to their side.

“How are you feeling?” They inquired.

“Better.” He muttered.

“That’s quite a scene, eh? Have you had any experience like that before?”

His ears turn pink. “This is the first time.”

“Can I?” They raised their manual sphygmomanometer.

He nodded.

They measured his blood pressure. Staring at him closely from time to time.

Damn, they smell like sweat and isopropyl alcohol.

I should say something.

Shit, almost done?

They bite their lip when focused.

That’s sexy.

“It’s higher than normal but you’ll survive with a bit of rest and water. You should cool down if you wanna get the vaccine today, but you can return to-”

“No.” The doctor is surprised with his firm tone.

“O-oh. You might be a busy person. I understand-”

“No, I’m not busy I, I just-” he stutters.

“Ahh… Oh!” Hange holds his hands in theirs and Levi almost freaks out. He likes it, though. They have warm, comforting hands.

“Do you have trypanophobia?” They whispered.

“Huh?”

The person is closer to Levi than he allows people to be with him on normal days. But he is now basking in their attention. It is a successful mission. No matter how fucked the method he did.

They nodded consolingly. “That’s okay. No shame on being afraid of needles. I know a lot of people who are the same. They even run away or faint sometimes. Some doctors do too! I’m proud of you for conquering your fears and getting this vaccine…”

Doctor Hange Zoe rambles about the benefits of vaccination and how to defeat his fears. He hears the name of a psychiatrist that can help him with his problem. Their speech goes from one ear to the other. The highlight of his day is not only that he managed to talk with the doctor this time, he was also touched, comforted.

“...And you see, all the citizens of the world are being monitored right now. Paradis even has a database of all the people who already had the vaccine that’s been distributed. Oh! Good Ymir! I haven’t asked your whole name yet.”

“Levi Ackerman.”

And it happens so fast. He’s now sitting on a chair in one of the booths. Being taken care of by THE Hange Zoe themself. As soon as they’re done, he grabs the opportunity to exchange numbers. “I’m passionate about recovering from fears! Please get in touch when you’re ready to talk with a psychiatrist. He’s a friend of mine but I highly recommend him for his expertise you know…”

Another five-minute monologue on his mental health and he doesn’t give a fuck anymore. He rarely accepts opinions of others yet it feels like heaven that they’re overly worried about his well-being.

The day ends with him taking an hour flight to Sina where he actually lives and works.

On the following day, he wakes up and crawls on his bed with a heavy body, burning deep to his bones from the side effect of the vaccine.

He smiles as the notification pops out messages from his precious Hange Zoe.

“Hi Levi! This is Hange in case you didn’t save my number. How are you? I’m sorry, I forgot to register your name yesterday! I was talking a lot and I forgot and I know it’s my negligence as a doctor. It’s a very rare mistake on my part. Please forgive me! I’ll do it immediately when I get to the hospital.” Sent 6:12 AM.

“You must be sleeping. I want to inform you about the registration. System says you already completed your set of vaccines in North Sina General Hospital a week ago. But maybe it’s a system error. Let me ask this to my colleagues.” Sent 7:00 AM.

“Hi, Levi! Did you forget to take your last booster shot last week? I’m afraid I gave you a fifth one. Do you know that there are only 2 sets for the initial and 2 booster shots? I’ve committed two offenses against my practice already if that’s the case. Oh God! I was so careless, I forgot to check the database beforehand.” Sent 7:24 AM.

“Remember Dr. Smith, the psychiatrist? He said the database is very very updated. OMG. Can we talk?” Sent 7:50 AM.

9 missed calls from Sunshine <3

He chuckles weakly. The fuck he’s gonna tell them. That he’s a stupid simp?

Levi presses their number to call them back.

“Levi! Oh my God! How are you? I’m really sorry! I think-”

He laughs. They sound like they care about him.

“I- huh? Hello? Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to worry. It’s entirely my fault,” he coughs.

“A-are you sick?”

“No, uh yeah, but it’s just a side effect of the vaccine. It usually goes away after a day of rest.”

“So did I really give you a third booster shot?” They are sniffing on the other line.

“Yeah.”

“Oh no!” The cries get louder.

“Shh, shh, hey. Doctor, listen. Can I tell you something?”

“Hm?” sniffs, “Yeah, anything. I’m really sorry.”

“You really don’t remember me?”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, “That’s disappointing. We even laughed with the children in the orphanage together.”

“Orphanage?”

“Yeah, five months ago, The Ymir’s Heart For Angels Foundation event.”

There’s silence. Levi looked at his phone, checking if they hung up already.

“You might’ve been too busy to remember me. Sorry for acting stupid. It’s not your fault. I didn’t know we could only get up to four shots. And a fever won’t kill me, you know that too. Someone told me you’re a doctor in Shiganshina and I happen to be in the area for business. So I tried visiting you but you weren’t in the hospital for two days. It’s almost my flight so I got desperate and went to the vaccination center.”

“Do you have a fever?” They cut his confession.

“Well, yeah, kind of.” He admits.

“You kinda deserve that.”

“Hm, yeah.” He laughs at their annoyed voice.

“Do you have family taking care of you?”

“I’m alone. Ah- I have a cat, if it counts as family.”

“Mr. Ackerman, I’m not joking with you.”

“Neither am I, Dr. Zoe.”

Someone is calling the doctor from their end. He waits and relaxes on their words he barely understands. Their end goes quiet after some time.

“Doc? Hange?” He asks.

“Don’t risk my license to meet me next time.”

“Wha-”

The phone beeps as his caller ends the call.

“Call me tonight” Sent 1:15 PM.

#levihan #attack on titan #levi ackerman #hange zöe #argethara

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blackcoffeenotesapp · 1 year

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everything feels like some goddamn coming of age movie. everything’s full of metaphors i’m too lazy to more than half ass analyse, blinking red lights on docks and the distance between two bays and the terrifying beauty of massive emptiness between stars. it’s all too fucking much and i’m so conscious of my skin i could die. it’s minuscule and gigantic all at once. my head is full of poems i’m too confused to write and nothing i create is ever pretty enough or raw enough, just some middling mess of the two that isn’t good enough for artsy anthologies or shitty zines. i just can’t cope with stupid suspense that never amounts to anything anymore. it’s too much and too little. i’m going insane over how much i have to do and how little i’m doing. nothing is fulfilling. i only deal in extremes - nothing everything too little too much too perfect too fucked up big small starving gorging. oh of course there’s that. the typical fucking stupid senseless selfish teen girl whateverism that is this stupid obsession with my stomach, thighs, cheeks. who cares. i should either starve myself or give up because this mess of the both is killing me but hey who cares about teen suicide unless you’re pretty and thin right? i want to be tragic and i want to be beautiful, if i’m going to be sad (stupid word). maybe it’s all for attention. that quote about the inner voyeur, margaret atwood, a woman watching a man watching a woman or something like that. i feel like that a lot. analysing and reanalysing and giving up and sighing and scratching the base of my neck and staring up and the stars and thinking of the cameras. laughing. for the cameras. going to therapy and feeling so anxious i could die, sitting on a couch and petting her dog and thinking she’s trying to make me relaxed, lull me into a sense of security, feel safe with her. knowing her expressions are calculated. cringing when i say something because i know if she thinks it’s dumb or a non issue then she’ll react the same, blankly. everything just feels fake and the stupid creeping paranoia kicks in. it’s all very truman.

#august 2022 #notes app ramblings

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superhero--imagines · 3 years

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Check out my Bat Boy Zine Here! | @bat-boys-zine | Fill out an Interest Form for my next Zine here! | @xreaderstudios

A/N: For all period havers

Dick

* This man babies you I swear

* Gets you “fresh” hot water every thirty minutes

* “Dick it’s not even cold yet?”

* “Only the best for my baby!”

* Stocks up on your favorite period snacks and tampons/pads/products so that he doesn’t have to leave your side

* “Hey Dick, can you go to the store and get me some-“

* “They’re on the second shelf to the right” he answers without looking up

* Not a king, because he’s kinda clingy and doesn’t understand why you don’t wanna cuddle

* But definitely prince tier at least

Jason

* So he doesn’t coddle you as much as Dick

* “Do ya need anything? A heating pad? Maybe some tea?”

* But he’s still very attentive

* Will 100% go into the convenience store, at the cashier with a bright pink box of (pads/tampons/other product) tucked under his arm and a few snacks for you

* “Hey, what’s the most popular pain killer for menstrual cramps?”

* The cashier is basically shaking in their boots

* Here’s something about a seven foot tall man, who’s not even the slightest bit embarrassed to be buying menstrual items and even openly talking about it, that makes them anxious

* “I-it depends on the person, midol seems to be the one I see the most.”

* Jason nods

* “Can I go grab a bottle just in case?”

* The cashier nods, despite the line behind him

* And so now you have two bottles of pain killers

Duke

* He’s not that helpful tbh

* “What color is the box?” He asks

* He’s standing in the middle of the aisle, a second from ripping his hair out

* Why are there so many types? And the boxes are all different colors even though they’re the same brand?

* “It’s the purple box”

* “There’s more than one kind” he says back and you sigh

* “I’m sending you the picture”

* He brings the right one back so he’s not useless or anything

* He’s very sympathetic

* “Will it help if I run your back?”

Tim

* He’s afraid af

* “Tim can you-“

* “Tim’s not here right now, please leave a message”

* It’s not that he’s scared of you, he’s just scared of the germs….

* He’s also scared of upsetting you

* You sigh hanging up

* Guess you’ll pay for delivery to get what you need

* But twenty minutes later you find pain killers, four different period products, pain killers, and sprite on the door step with a note

* “Please don’t break up with me” - Tim

Damian

* I think he’s probably the most effective in dealing with the whole thing

* “You have to eat something beloved”

* He’s got an elaborate charcuterie board held in front of your face, basically trying to feed you crackers and cheese

* “I don’t feel like it,” you mumble, turning your face into the nearby pillow

* “If you don’t eat you can’t take pills”

* “Dami it’s three in the morning!”

* “Yes and you took your last pills almost eight hours ago, they’re about to wear out”

* ….even if sometimes it feels a little unreasonable

* “Here, I got you some hand warmers you can use to ease the pain a little”

* He’s always really sweet though

#batman imagines #Jason Todd imagine #Jason Todd #Jason Todd x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #duke thomas #duke Thomas x reader #duke Thomas imagine #tim drake imagine #tim drake #tim drake x reader #Damian wayne #Damian wayne x reader #Damian wayne jmagine #superhero—imagines

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francy-sketches · 2 years

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(wc anon) we NEED to get more warrior cats fans into asoiaf. asoiaf is basically wc but better written. the pipeline from wc fan to asoiaf is there (it happened to me, ty to my brother) but i feel like ppl are turned off because of,, the show and its fans,, too many dudebros that try and prove ur not a real fan if ur not a cisman

and yea i get what u mean when it comes to running a map 😭😭 seems like a lot? (I've had similar thoughts abt running an asoiaf zine,,, one day maybe)

if u ever did do a map, maybe a pmv/ limited animation map? 👀 the asoiaf community doesn't have many people who can animate but it does have incredible artists

and YEA true abt anything maps, they're cool but when I watch them I have to keep on pausing and looking at the lists of fandoms lollll. also they nearly always have 'dni' lists for fandoms at sign up and although that's fair it makes me anxious, cause what if u tried to sign up with a fandom and then u come back and see ur fandom on the dni list. that would funny AF but it's an irrational fear lmaoo

(what if u did an asoiaf wc map,, wonder how many wc fans u could convert)

the thought of wc fans getting into asoiaf fandom is mildly terrifying lmao what discourse would they create (tho lbr would it really be much worse than what we have now)

now that I think about it I have seen like. a couple asoiaf map parts/animations out in the wild (i think they were all show based tho and like 90% catified lol) so yknow we're not alone

but yea in my ✨vision✨ asoiaf map would definitely be pmv mayb with fancy tweenig or something. man I had a dream someone did that once I was so upset when i woke up 😭

#asks #speaking hypothetically here ofc i don't have the confidence to host a map #idk if someone with actual experience/project managing skills was cohosting then maybe. me just hanging out in the back chilling #while they do the hard part lol. i just have fun coming up with concepts :) generally speaking not just asoiaf #the thing with catifying is like. on one hand it's very fun on the other most of the time it makes the characters really hard to recognize #i mean people struggle to tell characters apart normally sometimes lmao. the amount of times ppl thot joffy b was tommy b...girl how #mistaking iconic legend the butcher's boy for robb...smh the disresect #the blacklist thing is also a secret fear of mine lmao...whant if they dont want my gamey throney...

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

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The Killing Cure (Part 12)

It’s been a hot minute but I’m back from my vacation. I mentioned on my other fic that I just got a new job so updates will still probably be slow as I now have a job on top of art fight, a zine, two other fics, and an original story. So a big thanks to everyone who sticks with this one and for all of the patience.

Out of all of the beings that roam this godforsaken Earth, humans, monsters, mutants...it is Winters. Winters who has been on her mind since she kissed him. She wishes that she could call it an impulse but is it really an impulse if she had been thinking--however loosely--about it for several days before?

She wishes that he would do something to make her irreparably mad. But he doesn’t, he only ever seems to make her feel a sense of comfort. Even now when she is cringing at the sight of herself in a pair of pants, the man stands behind her with a collection of compliments. “You look great.” He promises. “It’s going to take some getting used to, you being dressed down, but it’s nice.”

Nice. He thinks that she looks nice. It is such a simple word, so plain, ordinary. But it means everything to her. Everything when she has felt anything but nice or attractive… “I’ve looked better.” She waves the compliment off. But, by God, it has taken at least some of the edge off of her mild sense of self loathing.

Ethan shrugs. “You just have to get used to streetwear.”

She chances another look in the mirror; she supposes that it isn’t quite so horrible. The shirt is loose and breathable though the linen fabric isn’t as kind on her skin as many of her gowns are. The pants are less comfy, more restrictive than her dresses but are easier to maneuver in without tripping. And she supposes that they don’t look too unflattering on her.

She jerks when Ethan suddenly thumps her hat onto her head. He laughs at her little jolt. “Do not test me, Winters! We have a long journey ahead of us.”

“Just trying to help.” He replies. “I didn’t want you to forget your favorite hat.”

He favorite hate is actually several sizes too big for her and sits draped over a chair. But with an exact replica of it, she decides that the technicalities aren’t worth mentioning. “Are my girls ready?”

“They’re your daughters, you check on them.”

.oOo.

He watches Alcina make her way out of the room. Words and hissed out promises aside, the woman has become increasingly less hostile since she’d kissed him. He smiles to himself, at least he isn’t the most awkward of the two of them anymore. At least, he isn’t alone in his conflicted, affectionate feelings.

She comes back with her daughters in tow; Bela has a grip on her left hand and Cassandra holds the left. Daniela, untethered, zips about, occasionally cutting in front of the other three before falling behind once more. The three of them are bundled up heavily, almost absurdly so. Alcina comes to a stop at the center of the room and Daniela takes the opportunity to lift her off of the ground.

“Daniela…” she grumbles through clenched teeth, “we talked about this…”

The woman cackles and puts her mother back down before bursting into a cloud of flies and rebuilding herself several feet away. Ethan has never seen anyone look less amused than Alcina in that moment. “We’re ready, Ethan.”

A jolt of adrenaline pulses through him, it is once again real. His mission is once again in sight and the dangers are once again going to be pressing. He wonders if Alcina is nervous now that illness has taken the place of a powerful mutation. She is just an ordinary woman with very basic gun skills. She gives no indication of nervousness, regardless of how she feels within.

Having grown used to the warmth of Castle Dimitrescu the cold stikes Ethan’s face as tough tendrils of the aurora borealis have reached down and coiled around his face. His is overcome by shivers, he can only imagine how the fly beasts are handling it. He doesn’t have to imagine it, one look behind him and he knows that they are recoiling. He thinks that he can hear faint crackles.

His speculation becomes knowledge when he sees the panic on Alcina’s face. Without a word of warning, she grabs all three of her daughters and, with more strength than he realized small Alcina has, ushers them back into the warmth of the castle.

Ethan follows her back inside. Her face is twisted in distress and concern, her breathing hastened. “Oh, my poor dears.” She mumbles more to herself than any of the three. “My poor little darlings…” She sandwiches Daniela’s hands between hers. “Winters, you get them some blankets, now.”

Stress pinches her tone and he elects to ignore the snappiness of her request. She holds Daniela to her chest, letting the woman drink in her body heat.

.oOo.

Were she herself she would be more efficient. She would mostly envelop Daniela until the frost retracts from her skin. Having skipped the test steps and thrown herself headfirst into the frosty outside world, the woman had taken the worst of its merciless frigidness--she is too bold for her own safety.

Alcina holds her so close--feeling the woman’s shivers and shakes--and brushes her hand over her hair. For once she finds herself thankful for her softness, it gives her an added warmth which she extends to Daniela. She has the urge to squeeze the woman but she must handle her with care, she is so terribly fragile right now.

Ethan comes back with three blankets which he wraps around Bela and Cassandra and then over Daniela’s. “Thank you, Ethan.” She murmurs as she continues to stroke Daniela’s hair. “We will have to see if the Duke will be a gentleman enough to look after my daughters while I’m gone.”

Ethan nods.

“Mother, it’s so cold.” Bela whimpers.

“It hurts.” Cassandra adds.

“I know dears, it’s going to be alright.”

“I think that I’m dying, mother.”

Alcina shakes her head, “no, Daniela. You’re going to be just fine, dear. We’ll get you nice and warm again.” She kisses the top of her head.

“I saw a deer pretty close by, I can get them some warm deer blood.” Ethan offers.

“Yes, Ethan, that would be ideal.”

With only a nod, he makes his way outside again. There is a new fluttering in her belly alongside the anxious tickles. She isn’t sure what to make of these flutters. But she knows where they come from. She watches Ethan through the window, watches him chase the deer down, likely cussing and shouting. She observes and she can’t help but let her mind wander. She barely knows him beyond the very basics. She has mostly tormented the man, mocked him. And yet he is good to her. He is kind to her girls. They aren’t even his own and yet he is fetching meals and warmth for them.

.oOo.

Ethan is completely drained by the time he gets back from his deer hunt. Physically and mentally--he can’t hold it against them, it isn’t the fault of the daughters that they can’t endure the cold. But it is still a setback. Still one more day away from finding Rose. One more day that leads her closer to a heinous sort of death.

He leaves the deer on the table, decidedly the girls can eat it raw and he can fix himself and Alcina a meal. Or perhaps she’d be willing to do the cooking this time. He opens his mouth to call for the daughters but the flies are already gathering. Three identical swarms that take shape.

“Where’s your mother?” He asks at the shaping of Cassandra.

The girl shrugs, “either the kitchen, having a bath, or the bedroom.”

“I’ll check the kitchen.” He knows that she is there before he reaches it. He isn’t exactly sure what she is cooking but she has added what smells like an overabundance of spice.

“What are we cooking?”

“I am cooking soup.” Alcina sets a bowl on the table. “Just a little recipe that Donna showed me.”

“She really loves her spices.”

Alcina shakes her head, “I like spices. Donna cooks her food quite bland. Donna favors simplicity.”

“Your daughters seem like they are recovering well.”

She sighs, “they should be in bed resting.” She clicks her tongue. “I can never get them to rest well. Daniela wakes up and then all three of them are awake.”

Ethan laughs, “sounds about right, kids are just like that no matter how old they get.” He pauses, “do you need rest?”

Alcina thinks for a moment, “I will be fine for now. The medications are working quite sufficiently.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“You sound unhappy.”

“I was hoping to be well on our way to find Rose.” He sees the vexation flash across her face but before she can rave at him he adds, “it’s...fine, it isn’t their fault. Just frustrating circumstances.” This answer seems to placate the woman. She silently continues eating her soup. He has to admit that it isn’t bad at all. Perhaps a little strong for his tastes but he is just thankful that he didn’t have to cook this time. “You don’t seem all too happy either.” He comments after pushing his bowl aside.

Alcina stares into her empty soup bowl. “I’m afraid of losing my girls. Today was a reminder of just how easily it can happen. They’ve been in more danger lately than they have been in, in years…” She stands and beckons for him to follow. Once upon a time, perhaps only a week or so ago, he would have hesitated. This time he trails closely behind her.

“I have a feeling that everyone will be too preoccupied trying to kill us to go after them.” He shrugs. He supposes that that isn’t all too reassuring. He is surprised to see her smile slightly and nod in agreement. There is something comforting about her willingness to die in place of her daughters, to put herself in danger to keep it far away from them. Humanity, he realizes. And he realizes too, that she would have done the same prior to his arrival. Humanity in a woman who, at that point, hadn’t been human in so long.

He watches her climb onto her bed. She gives a rather dramatic sigh and mutters, “I should make sure that my girls are…”

“I can get them into bed.” He doesn’t allow for protest. Rather, he slips out of the room and herds the three of them into their room.

“Do we get another bedtime story, Winters?” Bela asks.

“I wasn’t planning--”

“We need a story to sleep.” Daniela insists. “Mother always reads to us.”

And thus he finds himself suckered into reading them to sleep a second time. Alcina, he finds, has nodded off in his absence and jolts awake at his sudden reappearance. She grumbles something, that he can’t quite catch, about knocking first. “Sorry.” He mouths. Truth be told, he isn’t sure why he has come back to her room instead of going to the guest bedroom. “They’re all tucked in and read to.”

The smile she gives him this time is much softer than usual, sleepier too. It is pleasant, inviting. He finds himself wondering, again, who she had been before the mutation. What she had been like prior to Mother Miranda. She pats a spot on the bed next to her.

“Thank you for caring for my girls. They can be...difficult to manage when it is just me.”

“You’re…” he feels her weight shift onto him. “You’re welcome.” He chances holding her with his right arm. When she doesn’t jerk away or protest, he strokes her hair, trying to ease her stress away. He thinks that it is working.

It must be... She said it wouldn’t happen again, he knew that she was lying, he just didn’t expect her to stray from her promise so soon; she kisses his neck. And when she closes her eyes and rests her head against him, her curls tickle his neck. He holds his hand against her cheek--he supposes that he will be spending another night in her company. A night with her in his arms.

#Alcina Dimitrescu #Lady Dimitrescu #Ethan Winters #Alcina/Ethan #Fanfiction

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glacecakes · 3 years

Text

Holding onto One Another Forever

Varian and Hugo get married; it's as chaotic as you'd think. But they make it work.

Warnings: none This piece was written for the Varigo zine! I apologize for not updating this series in a while, I've been focused entirely on AL. but I do have a bunch of oneshot ideas, so uh. hopefully those will get written?

“Hey kid, you up?”

Varian groaned, rolling over onto his bed, revelling in the sun-kissed sheets. Early morning sun filtered through the windows and onto his cheek. If he had it his way, he’d spend an eternity here, one side warmed by the sun, the other by his fiance.

Wait.

Varian shot up, hair falling every which way. One side of him was cold, and he remembered why.

I’m getting married today.

“Varian you better be up or so help me I’m dragging you out of bed myself!” Eugene called from the other side of the door. “I’m your best man, it’s my job to keep you on track. We got a tight schedule that involves at least five minutes of me trying to talk you out of this!”

Varian shoved the door open, revealing his brother figure’s disapproving gaze. He sent one right back.

“You’re not gonna talk me out of this, Eugene. We’ve been over this.”

Eugene rolled his eyes and held up his hands in surrender. “Yes, yes, Rapunzel told me I’m not allowed to kidnap you, I get it.”

The alchemist snorted. He knew Eugene and Hugo didn’t really hate each other, not anymore. It was an antagonistic friendship, constantly snarking and competing for Varian’s attention, but more than willing to throw hands to protect one another. It was fascinating and hilarious to see.

“Now come on! We need to get you dressed and at the chapel in one hour! No room for failure, we don’t want a repeat of the engagement party.”

“It wasn’t that bad! Stop holding it over Hugo, he was excited!” Varian yelled, turning around and stepping behind the dressing screen.

Eugene laughed. “The day I stop talking about that is the day I die.”

The announcement of their engagement was chaotic, to say the least.

They knew the reaction would be… explosive. Varian had a feeling Rapunzel would squeak like a tea kettle, and crush them both into a hug. And Hugo joked Eugene would faint in shock. Or anger. One of the two. The rest of them were up in the air.

Hugo, dramatic as he was, planned for them to walk out to their family, flaunting their rings.

He spent the 10 minutes before that burning a hole in their floor with his pacing.

“You seem much more nervous than I am,” Varian remarked, idly fixing Hugo’s collar.

Hugo’s face was clammy and he was searching for an escape route. “Yea, your family is terrifying.” Varian laughed, settling his palms and then forehead onto Hugo’s chest.

He used to hate their size difference, but now he loved that Hugo was taller than him. Hugo often rested his chin on Varian’s head, engulfing him completely in a hug. It never failed to make Varian feel safe and secure.

“It’s going to be ok,” he mumbled into Hugo’s chest. “They love you, they love us.” How far he’d come, to be so sure in those words. He felt Hugo’s shaky inhale.

“Right. Who wouldn’t love me. I’m awesome,” His voice was on the higher end, a telltale sign of anxiety. Still, he was so goddamn happy. He got to hold Varian for the rest of his life, and the world needed to know.

“Ok.” Hugo stepped back, moving one hand to grasp Varian’s cheek adoringly. He doubted he’d ever get tired of staring into those baby blue eyes. The shorter rested on the hand for a moment, humming in delight.

Carefully, they stepped out into the courtyard.

“Yo!” Hugo called, letting his rogue persona take over to mask his swirling anxiety. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why you’re out here… and there’s a good reason! Or rather, two good reasons. BAM!” He raised his and Varian’s hands over their heads.

There was silence in the courtyard. “I don’t get it!” Yong called.

Hugo then realized, to his horror, their ring fingers were facing away from the crowd. He lowered them in shame, face slowly turning rose red and he crouched on the ground.

Varian ignored him. “We’re getting married.” He said simply. The little party exploded into cheers. He leaned down to pat Hugo’s back in sympathy, letting him stew in embarrassment just until their family descended on them with congratulations.

Hugo was right though; Eugene did pass out, but from laughing too hard.

Varian stepped out from behind the screen, fully dressed in his tux. It was relatively simple, white with blue and gold embellishments, the corona sun on his right shoulder. The true standout was the blue sash across his waist, indicating his noble status. Varian managed to tame his unruly bangs, but he kept his goggles on. They were his mother’s, and that way it felt like a part of her got to see him get married.

Eugene gave him a thumbs up, and Varian beamed. He felt on top of the world.

“Come on,” Eugene said, leading him out the door and into the hall. “We got things to do! People to see!” He walked ahead, Varian trailing behind, when an idea struck the alchemist. Eugene was prattling on about checking flowers and finishing setup, but Varian had only one thing on his list that really mattered.

He turned a corner when Eugene wasn’t looking, his mind set on one room.

Across the castle, Hugo was trying not to panic.

Usually, Varian was the anxious one. He was the one to wear his shoes down from pacing, to bite his nails down to nubs, to ruin his hair with his hands. But today, it was Hugo who nearly ruined his ponytail on three different occasions, and Nuru’s patience had run thin.

“Hugo, you look fine, please stop freaking out,” She groaned, fixing his green tie. He was dressed in white like Varian, only without a sash, and the emblem of his home kingdom on his left shoulder.

“I’m not freaking out!” He protested, slapping her hands away. “I’m just nervous. Pre wedding jitters. Those are normal, right?”

“I mean yes, but-”

“Good! So I’m normal, everything’s fine, we’re gonna be fine!” He laughed nervously for way too long. His eyes moved every which way, never looking at Nuru. “Is it hot in here or is it just me? Are you hot? I’m hot. Let’s go get some fresh air.”

He moved towards the door, only to back up when Donella stood in the doorway with Yong in tow. Nuru breathed a sigh of relief. Thank god Yong went and got her. While she had no concerns of Hugo getting cold feet, he needed to calm down before he descended into an anxiety attack. Nuru slipped past Donella, taking Yong down the hall. They could go see if anyone needed help before the ceremony.

Hugo froze in place, surprised to see her. “You actually came.”

Donella raised an eyebrow. “Of course I did, you asked me to be here.”

“Heard you were freaking out,” Donella said.

Hugo puffed his cheeks in protest. “Was not.”

“Hugo, you’ve never been able to lie to me. Come on.”

Hugo sighed, his bangs ruffling with his breath. He walked to the window overlooking the castle garden. “Ok. I’m a bit nervous.” Donella said nothing, a silent encouragement to continue. “This is my first stable relationship, the first stable household… What if I mess it up? What if I’m back out on the streets again? Do I even deserve this?” He chewed his lip. It’d been brewing in his mind for a while, hidden in the back where he’d ignored it for so long. But today it would be official, the castle would be his home and Varian would be his forever. It was amazing and terrifying all at once.

“That’s a stupid question.” Donella folded her arms.

“Pardon?”

She rolled her eyes, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Of course you deserve this, Hugo. You worked your ass off to get here, I would know. The question shouldn’t be if you deserve it, the question should be if you want it.”

Hugo blinked, mouth closing with an audible snap. “I want this more than anything in the world,” He finally said. “I love him. I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”

“Well there you go. That’s all that matters. The rest is irrelevant.”

A smile eased its way onto Hugo’s face. “Thanks, Don. I’m glad you’re here.” She hummed, patting his cheek. Then, to his shock, she wrapped the taller man into a brief hug. He wrapped his arms around her, revelling in the affection for a moment. They parted, and Hugo glanced to the door. A mop of black hair was barely visible.

“You can come in, babe,” He said, and Varian giggled from behind the frame. He rushed into the room and replaced Donella in hugging his fiance.

“I’m surprised Eugene let you come see me,” Hugo mused.

“He didn’t.”

“God I love you.”

Varian laughed, burying his head into Hugo’s chest. They separated, eyeing each other up and down. “You look beautiful,” Hugo murmured, and Varian’s cheeks lit up in flames, but his smile remained vibrant all the same. He placed a chaste kiss on Hugo’s lips.

“So do you,” he replied. If it were up to them, the wedding could’ve been cancelled and they wouldn’t care. Just being in each other's arms right here was enough.

The trance was broken by Donella clearing her throat. “Don’t mean to be rude, but the ceremony starts in 10 minutes, so move your butts. ”

The couple raced through the castle halls, passing confused guards and amused maids as they went.

“Why are we always late to things like this?” Varian moaned, narrowly dodging a pedestal as they rounded a corner.

“We’re not late, everyone else is early,” Hugo joked and winked at Varian. He wasn’t looking, and rammed straight into the doors to the throne room.

“Shit!” He cried, rubbing his nose. Varian stifled a laugh by his side. He pulled Hugo back, taking the taller one’s face in his hands. “You good?”

“Yea, peachy,” Hugo grumbled, voice nasally. “We should’ve had an outdoor wedding.”

While Hugo and Varian would’ve been completely happy with a simple garden ceremony out in Old Corona, or hell, even just eloping (well Hugo would’ve been fine with that. Varian not so much), you don’t question it when the Queen offers the castle for your wedding. Since Varian and Hugo were busy with their Library and Royal Engineer work, Rapunzel had gladly taken over wedding planning for them.

It wasn’t nearly as grand or politically important as her royal wedding, but with Varian’s “kind of a prince in 2 kingdoms” status it was still a big ceremony. There were no delegates from other kingdoms to entertain, just a lot of Coronan citizens who wanted to wish the Royal Engineer the best.

A small part of him mourned the loss of a private ceremony, but Hugo couldn’t deny this was what he’d dreamed of. To be well off, off the streets and comfortable, younger Hugo would’ve loved this. Current Hugo loved it too, but for an entirely different reason. And that reason was standing by his side, waiting for their cue.

Hugo stuck his tongue out in concentration. This solution was very delicate, it needed exactly four drops of carbonic acid in order to work. “Careful…” he muttered to himself.

One drop.

Two drops.

Three-

He dropped the pipet in shock as the door slammed open and Varian tumbled inside. The beaker fell to the floor, sizzling and bubbling in protest.

Varian shut the door behind him, bolting the padlock, then the chain lock, and then the door stop. He glanced around wildly, grabbing a nearby stool and propping it under the doorknob before backing away slowly. Hugo rose from his seat, experiment forgotten. “Whoa, hey goggles, where’s the fire?”

“ Shh !” Varian snapped, backing up further until his back was at Hugo’s stomach. “We can’t let them know we’re in here.” His voice was urgent and laced with anxiety. It made Hugo’s throat close. Were they in danger? Had a prisoner escaped? He and Varian made a lot of enemies in their lives, there was no telling what was going on.

On the other side of the door, Hugo heard faint footsteps. It sounded like two or three people. Their words were muffled by the heavy wood, but he could hear the harsh tones and false sweetness even so. The door handle jiggled for a moment, and they both tensed up.

The rattling stopped and the footsteps retreated. Varian heaved a sigh of relief.

“Ok what the hell was that?”

Varian turned around, and instead of a terrified, anxious look, Varian’s face was flushed with embarrassment. He twiddled his thumbs. “So you know how you weren’t sure who you wanted to walk you down the aisle?”

“Yea, we decided to walk down the aisle together.” Hugo raised an eyebrow. “Why…?”

“Well, I didn’t mention that last part…” Varian chuckled nervously. “Aaaand now my family is fighting over who gets to walk you down the aisle.”

All tension exited the room with a nearly audible woosh. “What.” Hugo said.

“Not like, physically fighting, but you know how they get.” Varian refused to meet Hugo’s eyes.

He did indeed know how they got. Competitive niceness was a nightmare when Hugo first moved into the castle. All of Varian’s family wanted to get on his good side as soon as possible, and made it their mission to become his best friend. He couldn’t step out of his room without someone waiting for him with a gift or activity or god knows what. It was torture.

He groaned. Either he had to put up with it again for like a week, or one of them had to break the news to everyone. Neither option was particularly fun.

Or…

“Wanna sneak out and live with your dad for a week?” Hugo asked, letting his trademark smirk slide onto his face. Varian responded with one of his own.

“Sounds great.”

One by one, the members of their party joined them, taking their places in line. Nuru and Yong stood side by side, puffing their chests proudly, thrilled to lead the entourage. Eugene rolled his eyes when he arrived, clearly not thrilled at being ditched earlier, but Varian couldn’t care less. It was his wedding damnit, he wanted to see Hugo! He stuck his tongue out at his big brother but otherwise remained in place. He could feel Hugo vibrating with laughter.

“What?” Varian laughed, gazing up at his soon-to-be husband.

“Nothing, you’re just really cute.”

“You’re one to talk!”

Hugo placed a kiss on the crown of Varian’s head, moving down his cheeks, then his nose, kissing each and every freckle. Varian tried desperately to keep his giggles down, but failed miserably, only stopping when someone cleared their throat. Hugo’s head shot up to see a bemused Quirin.

“Hi dad,” Varian separated from Hugo to wrap around his father, who happily returned the hug. His eyes shone with unshed tears.

“I’m so proud of you, son,” He whispered. “Your mother would be, too.” He glanced up at Hugo, holding a hand out for him to take, and Hugo did. The father squeezed it.

Hugo was terrified when he first met Quirin, and in some ways, he still was. The man was massive, all muscle from years of knighthood and farming. But the longer he knew Quirin, the less worried he was. It was clear he loved Varian just as much as Hugo did, if not more. And that was saying something. If someone so much as looked at Varian the wrong way Quirin would not hesitate to kill them in seven different ways, and Hugo would gladly add an eighth.

After a few more moments, the trio separated and resumed their positions. The man stepped back in front of them, joining with Donella, representing the parents of the grooms. The echo of a church organ began to blare.

It was time.

The doors opened to reveal the throne room, normally decorated with purple and gold now a sea of blue and green. Lavender lined the floor of the aisle, a reminder of Corona where they planned to spend their lives. The late morning sun trickled through the high windows, washing everything in a white light.

Most people would be unbearably nervous in their position, about to walk down the aisle to get married in front of everyone in the kingdom, but just being together eased all worries and anxieties. It’s how they worked.

“You know,” Hugo mused, watching as their friends and family started the procession. “I’m kind of shocked this is going so smooth.”

“Please don’t jinx it.”

“Oh come on, you know it’d be more interesting if something went wrong!” they kept their voices to whispers. It was almost their turn.

“We had enough disaster at the rehearsal dinner.” Varian said, his voice harsh but a grin slowly formed on his face.

“I was totally innocent!” Hugo raised one arm up in defense, the other looped around Varian’s.

The rehearsal itself went off without a hitch, but dinner was where it all fell apart.

The dinner was adults only, Yong, Kiera, and Catalina had been carted off to bed about an hour ago, much to their complaints. Dinner itself went pretty smoothly, drinking and congratulations all around. Varian felt slightly overwhelmed at all the attention.

They both hated these kinds of events. But as part of the royal family, it was a necessary evil, and so they tackled it like they tackled a science problem: divide the work based on their strengths. Hugo was a people pleaser, he knew what to say to get someone off his back. Varian knew the protocol and customs, so he led them in dances and at formal dinners. Now that the meal was wrapping up, Hugo gladly soaked up all the well-wishes so Varian could relax.

Hugo snickered at something Lance said, downing a glass of champagne and reaching for another, but Varian smacked his hand away. We don’t need a scene tonight, thank you very much.

The shorter alchemist zoned out slightly, only to snap out of it when he caught sight of Catalina at the entrance. Her hair was askew and eyes wild. She looked like she had run here from her room. She whipped her head around, searching for something, settling on Varian and running up to him.

“Catalina? What are you doing here?”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him out to the center of the room. “We need to get out of here!” She cried. Her commotion attracted the attention of a few people, and Lance ran over to help.

“Why?” Varian asked. The girl opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a loud bang!

The doors were blown wide open, revealing a ragged group of familiar terrorists.

“Well, isn’t this a lovely party,” Andrew crooned, Yong squirming in his grasp. Cries of distress and fear rang out throughout the ballroom.

Varian cursed himself for not keeping weapons on him at all times.

His mind raced, trying to come up with a plan. Hugo loudly clinked a fork to his champagne glass, cutting off the alchemist’s thoughts. “Listen up Saporian sluts, a 10 is speaking!”

Varian’s face turned bright red and he slid a hand down his face, wanting nothing more than to melt into the floor beneath him. How had Hugo managed to get drunk in the 2 minutes he wasn’t looking?

“I appreciate you coming to congratulate us, really! You used to know Varian, it’s only fair.” He called. “Not sure why you decided to come here though.”

“...What?” Andrew asked, lowering Yong in confusion. The teen took advantage of his distraction, biting into the flesh of Andrew’s hand. The man let him go with a violent curse, and he ran to Varian’s side.

“I don’t get why you decided to come and try the hostage tactic when like, half the royal guard is in this room. You could’ve escaped the castle? Ruined our wedding? You know, like a competent villain?” As he spoke, the guards surrounding the room shook themselves out of their shock to ready their weapons at the Saporians. Andrew’s face was ashen, mixed between furious and nauseous.

“Man, no wonder you couldn’t do anything without Varian. Too bad he’s mine now. Suck it!” Hugo cackled, downing the rest of his champagne in one go.

Ah. That was how he got drunk.

The first step was the scariest. Once they stepped into the room, they were officially going through with it. There would be no take backs, they had to keep going until they reached the altar. Hugo squeezed Varian’s arm in support, a silent encouragement, a push to start moving.

The first step, they took it together.

The light from the window rested on Varian’s head, bathing him in a near ethereal light that Hugo couldn’t look away from. He should look where he was going, but he just couldn’t stop staring at the man about to be his husband.

His husband. It felt so surreal. It took every ounce of willpower to not lift Varian up and race down the rest of the way and get married as soon as possible.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached the end of the aisle. The priest smiled kindly at both of them, and they reluctantly separated to turn and face one another.

“Greetings, all,” He said. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of Varian, Duke of Corona and the Dark Kingdom, and Baron Hugo of Corona.” Eugene gave Hugo that title. They were 90% sure he did it just to piss Hugo off.

The man continued to speak, giving the usual rites of marriage and talking about how special today was, but Varian tuned him out pretty early on. He rubbed his thumb over Hugo’s palm, marvelling at the texture.

Varian kept his gaze ahead and head up, but honestly? His knees were about to collapse at any moment. He was overwhelmed, love filling every crevice of his body all the way to the tips of his fingers and the crown of his head.

A decade ago, he thought he was unworthy of love. That everyone who loved him left him, betrayed him, abandoned him. But now, seeing his dad trying not to cry off to the side, Rapunzel bouncing in place next to a calmer but equally happy Eugene, and Nuru and Yong grinning eagerly at him, he can’t help but wonder how he ever thought such a thing.

He only snapped out of his musings when the priest nudged him. “Your vows?” He said.

Varian cleared his throat, and gazed up at Hugo. Blue eyes met green, a perfect sea.

“Hugo, we both know I am… not great with words,” He began. Hugo snickered at the understatement.

“But even so, there are no words that could possibly describe how much I love you. You make everything we do fun. Even if it’s a boring ball, or if we’re running for our lives, or, heck, even just hanging out in our room, you make it fun. Just being with you, I feel like I can do anything, we can do anything. You always know what I need, you always know how to cheer me up, I would be lost without you. In more ways than one.

“Neither of us have had a… great past. We’ve both done some things we regret.” He shifted nervously and scratched the back of his neck. “But you don’t care about the things I’ve done. You care about the here and the now, and I love that about you. You act like you don’t, but you care so deeply, and it shows in everything you do.” His voice cracked on the last line, and Varian wiped a stray tear with the palm of his hand. He felt like a dam, about to burst with love. A quick glance saw Hugo was also trying not to cry.

“I just. I love you. A lot. To the point it may be unhealthy. Honestly I don’t know. But I want to find out with you. I want to do so much with you, and now we have the rest of our lives.” He took a shaky breath, in and out, just like Hugo taught him. “And, uh. Yeah. I’m done.” His cheeks heated up and he laughed awkwardly.

Hugo let out a wet laugh, his eyes misty. “Shit, goggles, how am I supposed to top that?”

“Easily?” The room broke into polite laughter.

Hugo took a deep breath, wavering slightly on the exhale. “If I told myself I would be here, in a castle, getting married to nobility, I think past me would’ve tried to kill present me. But honestly what does he know? He hasn’t met Varian yet. And that’s really the crux of it, isn’t it?” He squeezed Varian’s hands, bringing them to his chest.

“You changed me for the better in... so many ways. When I first met you, I thought it was just going to be another mission, another double-cross. But the more I got to know Nuru and Yong and you, the more I realized how much more there was than just stealing and alchemy. I riled you up because I loved the fire in your eyes, and even now, it’s one of my favorite things about you.” Varian whimpered ever so slightly, embarrassed but also so, so in love with the man in front of him.

“You never back down, you never give up, even when the odds are stacked against you. You’re capable, and strong, and kind. You’re a champion of second chances, and you see the best in everyone. So sure, past me might hate current me, but you know what I’d tell him? I’d tell him you can hate me all you want, but you will love the man you’re marrying. And you’ll agree that he’s worth it.” He smiled down at his soon to be husband. “I love you, so, so much, Varian.” He finished, and Varian couldn’t stop a single sob that escaped his lips. Hugo lowered their hands, but not before pressing a kiss to both of Varian’s.

The priest took the ensuing silence as an invitation to continue.

“Varian, do you take Hugo to be your husband? Do you promise to be faithful to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love him and to honor him all the days of your life, till death do you part?”

“I do,” Varian breathed, a rush of air escaping his lungs.

“And do you Hugo, take Varian to be your husband? Do you promise to be faithful to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love him and to honor him all the days of your life, till death do you part?”

Hugo nodded vehemently. “Yeah, I do.” Distantly he could hear someone blow into a tissue; his money was on Cyrus.

“The rings?” the priest asked, and Yong stepped forward. On one shoulder was Ruddiger, groomed and adorned in a little bow tie. Olivia sat on the other, letting out happy clicks and whirs, a burst of steam escaping. The teen lowered so the animals could take the rings from him and bring it up to them.

Ruddiger chittered at Varian as he passed him the ring, and got a scratch under his chin for it. The exchange of rings was silent, if it were up to them, this would’ve been done in private. Varian kept his hands covered so often due to his work, but he suspected he’ll forgo safety just to stare at the ring in the future.

“I now pronounce you husbands. Congratulations, and may your lives together be long and peaceful.” The priest said, and stepped back.

It was all the invitation Varian needed. He grabbed Hugo’s face and pulled him into a passionate kiss. The taller man faltered for a second, before eagerly kissing back, and he wrapped his arms around Varian’s waist. They parted to the cheers of friends and family.

Hugo rested his forehead on Varian’s, finally letting the tears leak out onto his cheeks. “I love you, hummingbird,” He whispered.

Varian hummed. “I love you too, Hugh.”

#varian #varigo #varian and the 7 kingdoms #varian and the seven kingdoms #varian and the seven kingdoms au #hugo the human #hugo seven kingdoms #tangled #tangled the series #tts #tts varian

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countessofbiscuit · 3 years

Text

Suppressive Fire

(Sev/Scorch, E, 3.9k words)

Two bros, chillin' on a top bunk no feet apart 'cause they're vode. . . .

Fleet Support, Ord Mantell, barrack block 7 Alpha, six standard weeks after Geonosis

She’d be built like a tank. That was Requirement the First.

She’d be humanoid, or near enough. Her arms would number ... four. Yes, four arms, each of them doing something clever. Two to open my ass, two to pinch my nipples, her long tongue going to crazy town on my cock, burning off my pubes with her caustic breath—

Sergeant Draka. The near-human-tank was Sergeant Draka, sure as day.

Scorch grabbed this realization with one firm hand and tugged.

Her species was shab-if-I-know: some unhappy hybrid who’d washed up on the far edge of the Outer Rim and been scraped into one of those fringe clans that never removed their helmets. Her folks developed a reputation for ritualized kidnapping that didn’t sit right with Jango. He’d ripped Draka’s helmet off in a duel, apparently, and spending ten years training the spawn of her enemy was the price she’d agreed to pay to regain her honor. All those kids and nowhere to run: a bitter form of torture for both parties. Her trainees were an insular, silent bunch with a tendency to tactically acquire your shit when you weren’t looking, but they got the job done.

Scorch had first seen Draka at a parade for the prime minister when he was three. He’d never forgotten it: she had fangs and yellow eyes and ears that twitched at the tips like they were catching your current of fear. No wonder they’d encouraged her to keep a lid on.

Then Scorch was six and change and he’d stumbled upon her in a hallway. She’d had a cadet upside down, smoking him good for something. “What are you gawping at, Six-Two?” she’d snarled, her generous chest heaving, three spare arms tensing in his direction. “Shift it. Unless you want your balls torn off next.”

Scorch had been a little scared and a lot turned on.

Sergeant Vau didn’t have to use many words to put the fear of Fett under your skin. He was a conservative man. Sergeant Draka regarded a shebs-chewing as the highest form of oratory and her calling in life. Whenever Scorch stood downwind of her in the combat hall, he could feel his eyebrows being singed off a second time.

Sweating a little, Scorch’s core tensed as this fantasy tightened vividly in his holographic mind.

She puts two hands around my cock, one hand on my nipple, one hand clawing under my balls—

Scorch flipped her on her back.

She uses all four arms to spread her trunky legs, hairy as a man’s, wide in invitation—

“Knock it off,” barked Sev.

She was gone. In her place was the knowledge that his brother was clued in to what Scorch was doing on the bottom bunk and determined to make it stop.

But the pressure under Scorch’s balls held firm and his erection stood fast. Sev was an oaf with shit timing. There was a reason they gave Scorch the fiddly wires and det controls. He stretched his fingers and reset his grip. “Not happening, vod.”

“Do you have to be so loud about it?”

“Loud?” Had he said something? Lost control of his breathing?

“Yes. Loud. Like you’re slugging a hamm sandwich.”

Scorch frowned. “Have you ever had a hamm sandwich?”

“I don’t want one now.”

There was some improvement to technique needed there: Scorch was always open to feedback—to the challenge of reducing the marginal noise of a wank. “You embarrassed?” he found himself asking, strokes resuming. Less hamm-fistedly. His orgasm had slumped a little and he'd have to tenderly call it back up.

“I’m embarrassed for you,” Sev said.

Scorch closed his eyes, picturing something ...

Sergeant Draka was back, and now she was holding him and Sev upside down. The arrival of RC-1207 into the sim wasn’t throwing Scorch off. In fact, it was encouraging. Exciting. He even leaked a little at the idea. What was a commando without his squad? Chafed, apparently. He should’ve brought Sev into the game two nights ago, after they’d been rudely pulled from stasis in preparation for some op known only to Boss.

Scorch didn’t remember decant. But Sergeant Vau, who'd wasted no time rocking up to his watery exile when Jango had put out the word, said they’d been ugly, annoyed, and ornery. The nursery techs had given them mock, miniature Deeces to keep their fussy hands and mouths occupied.

Coming out of stasis had to be worse—they were issued Deeces again, but they weren’t left alone to soothe themselves to sleep with weapons. Now their waking moments belonged entirely to some Jedi named Zey. They’d been forced to run a gamut of proprioception and endurance tests, cleaned their spanking new Katarn and cleaned it once more for luck on Boss’s orders, and told to familiarize themselves with their upgraded HUD systems.

Scorch had and he'd found it wanting: no pre-loaded heavy-isotope bangers or high-definition tailhead reference holos. Did he have to do everything himself in this shabla army?

After submitting to all this with only mild complaint—Fixer had sworn in full sentences—the op order was still not forthcoming. Classic hurry up and fekkin' wait. Wait for instructions they didn’t even need. Coordinates, intel support, and a broad objective would have sufficed for a commando tasking: top brass still had a lot to learn. It had left Delta with more downtime than they liked and had left Scorch wanting nothing more than to take care of that perennial need in his groin. And each time, he had to get a little more creative.

“What’re you thinking ‘bout, Sev?” he teased, poking the boundaries of this sim. Longnecks hated that: it’s why they let the commandos have off-world field trips to forsaken places where they couldn’t peel back the corners without dying. “Something profane? Something a little non-regulation?”

“The shab is wrong with you.”

“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking ... ” The opportunity for candor—without Fixer on the opposite bunk telling him to pipe down or Boss around to make it happen—was interesting. And as far as Scorch knew, this slap-dash prefab of a support base didn’t have surveillance bugs like their dorms on Kamino. The range and assault course here weren't even specced for lasers; they had to waste live rounds on discs and be honest about getting locked onto. Not likely.

With nothing left to hide, Scorch rolled away from the wall and relaxed onto his back, his cock stiff and spry. He pulled his hood up and over his wet glans and back down again, as far as he could take it, skin smarting nicely at the stretch. He went on, “I’m thinking about Sergeant Draka.”

“Stop,” Sev said.

“Her thick thighs in my face—”

“Stop.”

Scorch spat in his hand and throttled his shaft. “Biting our balls … ” Okay, maybe that was a little weird. But if Fixer’s quick work of the base pyrowall in the anxious hours before chill-down was anything to go by, weird could be good. Better than good.

“Don’t make me come down there,” Sev growled. Not unlike Sergeant Draka, actually.

Scorch couldn’t help himself. “Oh yeah, do come down here ... ” He bucked into his fist, as if to jerk out that ball of bliss from behind his sack. The mass of him tensed rigid under one fixed goal. His fumbled around for something in the sheets with his free hand. “Come down her thick legs ... ”

If anything could singe Draka’s hairs, it’d be Sev’s spunk. Scorch loved a blast, but Sev would sprinkle baradium on his Oaties every morning if he could. Sev would spill like a gutted aiwha, animalistic and uncontrolled, and Draka would hiss and gnash her teeth and—

And suddenly, Scorch was over the line. His base clenched hard, choking his groan of release. He convulsed and came thickly into one of yesterday’s socks.

“Shab,” he croaked, his vision returning, his limbs pooling with pituitary pleasure. “Blew up real good.”

Somewhere above him, Sev huffed. “Three nights in a row. You’re disgusting—you know that, right?”

“Stasis, my shebs. I’ve never had such busy balls in my short life.” Scorch twisted languidly to the edge of the mattress and sat up, squeezing his cock clean. “Cooking blanks like they might get lucky.” The knotted sock got buried in tomorrow’s laundry and Scorch borrowed some of Boss’s wet wipes for the cleanup. Sarge wouldn’t miss them.

“The rest of us are fine,” Sev countered.

Scorch glanced at Sev over his shoulder. His brother looked like a corpse who’d taken up reading in the afterlife. Base bunks weren’t much cosier than a stasis pod, but something else was keeping Sev’s spine stiff. Something that might affect squad performance if it wasn’t addressed: a bad case of self-inflicted blue balls.

Scorch pulled up his pants and ambled over. “You know ... you say that. But this says something else.” He grabbed Sev’s perky junk.

Happily for his brother, Scorch’s grip was light. So when Sev knocked Scorch backwards at the throat, he didn’t take Sev’s sack with him. A scuffle ensued, half-hearted on Scorch’s side, though Sev was obviously in one of his fuck-off moods. He always was crankiest after a nap; it’d take him days to shake off stasis. And he was still pissed about Procurement’s theft of his helmet, with its authentic Gamma blood enshrined in red paint. That di’kutla squad had been shipped to Triple Zero, and until Sev butted heads with them again, he’d be as scratchy as a flea-bitten akk.

Using the shallow bunkrail, Scorch flung himself up and collapsed onto his brother, asking the cantilevered cot to bear the weight of two commandos. He was a trusting soul. The tussle continued until Scorch allowed Sev to secure a headlock, rather than drag them both onto the floor. They’d just gotten out of one unnatural bath and he didn’t fancy a dunk in bacta.

Scorch tapped Sev’s thigh. “Alright, alright,” he said hoarsely. Sev’s hold loosened a fraction and Scorch scooted out from it. Sitting up, he grabbed the holozine that had gotten pinned against the wall: some monthly edition of erudition that called itself Lasers & Blasters. “Didn’t know you could, Oh-Seven.”

Sev snatched the ‘zine to stuff it under his pillow. “It’s above your cadet-grade.”

“I think everyone knows you’re the knuckle-dragger around here, not me.”

“I think everyone knows I’m the hero of Geonosis, Killer of Sun Fac.”

Scorch made a theatrical noise that sounded like a broken, wet bes’bev. “Woo-hoo! You hit the broad side of a bantha!”

Now Sev really tried to catapult him onto the floor. But Scorch’s close-combat situational awareness noticed that his brother’s cockstand was holding strong.

“Sev,” he said, panting a little when they’d reached another stalemate, “the only people who know Sun Fac’s name are us, some spooks, and that random forward air controller.”

“Shove off.” Sev kicked him with his boot. He wore them to bed like an animal.

Scorch shook his head. “Not until you take care of yourself.”

“You have some shabla nerve, vod.”

“Rule 45: there should be no happier union than that between a commando and his weapon. But you’ve neglected yours.” He cast a judgemental eye at Sev’s tented pants. They’d been sleeping, shooting, and shitting cheek-by-jowl for their entire lives: Scorch didn’t know why one more bodily function would be that much worse. In that moment, he had more sympathy for his brother’s dick than his brother’s karked-up dignity. Or his own.

He glanced at the chrono. Boss and Fixer still had half an hour at the range and they’d probably hit the mess on the way back. Time enough for a little more equipment maintenance; Scorch believed he was being supremely generous offering what remained of his. He flopped over into a plank above his brother, who was still lying deathly prone. “If you’re not gonna help yourself ...”

“What?” Sev sneered. “You’ll do the honors?”

“Maybe I will. I am better than you, after all,” Scorch grinned. Suddenly, he sensed a game that he wanted to win. They were all like that. Competitive. Not so much against each other, but with each other. Getting screwy Sev off would be the ultimate victory: no one would lose and everyone would leave happy.

“You can’t.” Sev’s disinterest was as threadbare as his pillowcase.

“Alright, vod. I’ll take that bet.” Scorch dug the heel of his hand into his brother’s persistent erection. Sev’s eyelids fluttered. No greater tell in the book. “I bet I can get you off before Boss and Fixer get back. Just this once.”

Sev circled his hands around Scorch’s throat, hissing through perfect teeth bared tight, “You—can’t—Sergeant—Vau—would—”

Scorch scoffed. “You see Sarge here? He’s fucked off to his castle with his kaminii retirement fund.”

Vau had never promised he’d be there on the other side, but ... did he know they’d done a good job? That they’d been singled out for the assassination of the bugs’ chief lieutenant? That they’d survived—no, that they'd excelled, when hundreds of other squads hadn’t? Did he even care? Scorch had to wonder.

He shoved those thoughts aside with conscious effort; they wouldn’t do him any good. Better that Vau wasn't here anyway: he would sniff mightily at this interpretation of no brother left behind. “Hells, he’s probably rubbing one out to a portrait of the dead missus right now,” Scorch continued.

Sev’s grip tightened for their sergeant’s honor. “He wouldn’t—”

“He would. Stars love the old chakaar, Sev, but he’s only flesh and blood.” Actually, that’s all Vau was: cragged skin and blue blood twisted ‘round a frame that seemed to boast a few more bones than average. There must have been a heart in there, too—see: Mird—but Delta had spent their entire cadethood seeking it out to little good. Especially Sev, though he’d slot you for saying so.

Oh, Sev’ika: flesh and blood, plus a lot of bile and bad humor. He stank out the backend when he’d scarfed down too many ration packs, but what would splatter out the front? Scorch was beyond curious now, as he palmed his brother’s package through his clothes.

Sev’s hands held firm, but it was half-hearted, his thumbs only tickling his brother’s trachea. His nostrils flared. He was afraid. No, even better—he was desperate.

It was all the vindication Scorch needed. “That’s right—breathe. Relax. Six-Two’s got you.” He tugged Sev’s fatigues down, hitching the elasticene band behind his balls. Sev grimaced. Yeah, it might not be comfortable yet, but just wait; a little pressure there goes a long way.

“That hurts,” growled Sev.

“Gonna hand me the game?” If Sev had lost sight of his mission objective, he really was gummed up. “Jerking off through a fly feels like doing it in formation,” Scorch said.

Sev turned his head to the wall. If he’d done it at all, that was clearly how.

Scorch took his theoretically-identical brother in hand and felt the heft and heat of a dick that was still an inch left of familiar, however many times he'd seen it. Sev was throbbing. His hands fell away, as deliberately limp as the rest of him, like he was trying to absent himself from his body.

“So ... Sergeant Draka—” Scorch began, realizing he’d just been staring at his brother’s kad for longer than was right. He mentally constructed the fantasy again, deliberately this time, while he warmed up to the idea of working someone else’s shaft. Sev’s shaft. He imagined what Sev might like to hear, because Scorch sure as shab wasn’t keen on hardening up between his brother’s legs himself. That would just be strange. “She’s got you under two hands and a squawking bug under the other, honkin' great tits ready to smother the both of you ...”

Up until he’d found his brother’s cock in his hand, Scorch had fancied himself an honest commando. He really did. Then he had to close the dissonance between his not-insignificant-interest in Sev’s pink tip and, well, Sev: that awkward grump-a-lump who couldn’t look at a sapient or sentient, droid or organic, without scaring them away.

Scorch did it by telling himself this was just his own his cock in a mirror. A learning experience, if nothing else. And his tongue loosened to remember the bet. He began rubbing with intent. “She snaps its neck. Crunch. And isn’t that just your favoritest sound, Sev, ol’ boy?”

“Not her,” Sev said hoarsely.

Manda, he really was giving this to Scorch in the bag. “Who?”

“—don’t know—I don’t shabla know.”

“Easy, vod. You got a lifetime to find out. Well, half of one.”

“Shut. Up.”

Scorch changed the program and flicked a thumbnail right under Sev’s hood. Scratched out whatever dream Sev had building behind his scrunched eyes. It was irrelevant, whatever cleaned the pipes. If his brother didn’t want to say, who was Scorch to ask? The silky give of his hard-on and his nasally gasps vouched that Sev was having an a-okay time. Scorch wouldn’t have a hand, otherwise.

Sev bubbled from his tip. Scorch felt himself flush, but he was more intrigued than anything. It really was like watching a holo of himself. Obviously, Scorch was more handsome, mostly because he wasn’t a fucking psycho ... but a cock was a cock. He lengthened his movement with the slick aid of precome, fisting all the way down to Sev’s slightly lighter curls.

Suddenly, Sev’s fingers wrapped around his. For an alarming half-second, Scorch feared his wrist was about to be snapped. Goodbye dominant hand and superhuman reaction times.

But Sev just held on, eyes pinched shut, arm as unyielding as a barrel.

The situation became more straightforward. Emboldened by the team effort, Scorch stroked faster. Harder. He read the lines in Sev’s fierce face like a manual for a weapon he’d been handed five years ago. A clone lifetime. A batcher’s intuition. He shucked Sev’s sheath down as hard as he could. Twisted his wrist at the top further than Sev’s delicate skin wanted to go. Scorch figured his brother liked the bite of pain. “You feelin’ the heat? You gonna spill all over my fingers, Sev’ika?” he teased.

Sev heaved like he might throw up, and he coughed out only two words. “Do. Not.”

Yeah, he hates that kind of chummy osik and yakking. It was almost sad how much Sev knew what he didn’t want, but couldn’t voice what he did. Even Fixer grunted in approval when something wriggled across the ‘pad’s screen; at least he had some idea what kind of parts he fancied. It was a very broad pool.

Sev just looked embarrassed to be asked.

“Someone’s gonna love your shit, Sev,” Scorch encouraged, coming at it again from a different vector. If he didn’t show his wacky brother some love, who would?

Vau hadn’t been there to bestow that curt nod. They didn’t want to be spoiled. Scorch and his brothers weren’t Skirata’s pups: they’d survived Geonosis because they weren’t. But ... Delta was here and Theta wasn’t and Vau had no karkin’ clue what a close-run thing it’d been. Didn’t know how the knife-edge of his training had probably made all the difference and how chuffed they all were about it.

Or how Sev had made that one-in-a-million shot to Sun Fac’s fighter with half his visor splattered in bug spray. Scorch would remember that for the rest of his short life: angry tendrils of smoke rising behind Sev as he turned contemptuously away from his kill, his helmet gooey with Geonosian.

There were brothers, and there were your brothers: the ones who’d made you better just by being there beside you. Sev was one of those.

Scorch didn’t have to improv osik, now. The words came as easy as his muscle memory as he pistoned his palm along Sev’s angry cock. “Fuckin’ proud of you, Sev: bane of bugs and sniper extraordinaire. Wish Vau could’ve seen it, I really do. I’ll have CLONINT’s guts for rappelling lines for wiping Boss’s cache.”

Sev’s free hand had bunched into the sheet, his knuckles whitening. He stilled suddenly, tense as the second before the opening salvo. Here it comes.

“Ooh, so that’s how Sev breaks. Result!” Scorch had imagined Sev’s orgasm would be like squeezing blood from a stone. Not at all: it came as surely and naturally as his own. Scorch watched intently. Who knew their balls became one in the moment of triumph like that? As Sev’s practically disappeared into his taut body, Scorch had to think on his feet to save his brother’s freshly-laundered fatigues—or, on his knees and elbows, as the case was.

Thunking his other arm across his face, Sev lost the bet with a violent shudder—and without a sound, probably so he couldn’t say he’d enjoyed it. He squirted fully but cleanly onto the open spread of the ‘zine, thanks to Scorch’s management and direction. A long, messy line of cloudy white right across the cross-sectioned barrel of a Magna-Caster-100. Thank fuck for flimsi.

Shaking off Sev's hand, Scorch dropped the wilting cock. It was not attractive, and he prayed the ladies wouldn't think the same, warring with himself about whether he could succumb to the mortification of going limp in someone’s mouth. Maybe it was better to pull out and stripe them? It merited further research on Fixer’s ‘pad, just in case.

“Target softened. Should make things easier for you. Hope you took notes,” Scorch said, oddly transfixed by the description of the ‘Caster’s invisible quarrels he’d spotted on the page. He was growing itchy for a time-sensitive rummage—Scorch would wager his lower left nut that Delta could now go toe-to-toe with any of Draka’s squads for acquisition. With any luck, this mysterious upcoming op would net them some exotic toys.

He shifted his weight, feeling the need to move before that idea made him stiff again and everyone got the wrong impression.

“‘m not soft, di’kut,” Sev mumbled from underneath his arm.

Scorch patted his thigh. “Sure you’re not.”

“Getting soft will get us popped.”

Scorch was halfway off the bunk, but he stopped to squeeze Sev’s fucked-up head. “Hey, ner vod. Look at me—look at me,” he demanded. Sev let his arm fall behind his curls but he kept his gaze elsewhere. “No need to quote Sarge to me. Or go grey over stupid stuff like him.”

Stuff like distraction—a dirty word in Vau’s lexicon. What did they have to get distracted by, anyhow? Grainy holovids? They had enough room in their over-engineered skulls for a few of those, and if they ever got to touch the real thing, Scorch figured they wouldn’t lose their heads. Right? Civvies were so unexceptional, after all. Probably couldn’t tell a maranium blast from a benign xenon light sculpture. Brothers, especially your fellow commandos, were the only company worth keeping—even Vau said so, and Skirata had said Vau had wined and dined New Mando aristos and had bedded a fekkin’ princess in a past life.

Eventually, Sev’s sour mug puckered in something like thought. “If you fucked up my range scores, I’m going to piss in your pack.”

Scorch laughed, dumping his feet onto the floor and wandering in the direction of Boss’s ration bars. Mess was a whole two hours away and Scorch had a month’s eating to make up for. “Sev’ika, no one could fuck up your range scores. You just pregamed with Lasers & Blasters.”

The ‘zine smacked the back of Scorch’s head, wet side flat.

Yeah, we're still good, Scorch thought, as he finally manhandled his stroppy brother onto the floor. And we always will be.

(also on Ao3)

#republic commando #delta squad #repcomm #sev #scorch #clonecest #biscuit fic

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skinks · 4 years

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i think fundamentally the most repressed & untouched people enjoy the horniest stuff. wonder what kind of porn richie-repressed-gay-desensitized-to-porn-tozier had to use to get off to in 2016. thots?

2) i feel like he's subscribed to a sci-fi mlm tentacle porn zine

I mean who amongst us isn’t

Nah lmao I totally agree, there’s something about being so emotionally and often physically untouched that does make people go a little intense. Every touch or overture of affection becomes amplified, no matter how small or unthinking on the other person’s part. To the point where even the idea of getting that kind of intimacy is almost painful, let alone experiencing it. Sometimes I think about this art and about Richie and it makes me want to scream like a banshee so we’ll move on

So yeah that’s the thing! Richie’s so deadened to real connection that in the late 90s/early 2000s he probably sought out more and more niche stuff. Partly with the thrill of finally having internet access after an adolescence of pretending to like Playboy, but mainly because he quickly becomes bored and numb, like you say, and keeps pushing his own boundaries.

He probably struggles with videos of real people because his guilt and self-loathing he associates with the post-nut is so strong he can’t actually enjoy anything. Especially if one of the dudes is shorter and clean cut and dark eyed, the strength of the nut is directly correlated to the depth of his anxious nausea afterwards.

Also he’s a big nerd, so who knows, maybe he WAS lurking around on livejournal or /coq/ on plus4chan in the late 2000s and beating it furiously to lovingly fan-drawn spideypool web bondage. Oh look, how convenient, the character getting rawed by a giant hunky headcrab zombie in this highly detailed drawing is Gordon Freeman, he wears glasses too! Oh my god Richie used the word “fapping” in irl conversation

But, by the time he’s in his late 30s and taking SSRIs that kill his sex drive, I don’t think that he’d be getting off much at all, by himself or otherwise. And once you purge all that extreme stuff out of your psyche and suddenly reconnect (platonically, which he berates himself should be enough, but Richie has only ever been able to lie to other people) with perhaps the only other guy in the world whose hangups about sex are worse than yours, suddenly Richie’s right back to puberty and all it takes is the big fleeting grins Eddie carefully rations out on facetime. The way Eddie’s tucked-in shirt pulls tight around his waist when he’s twisting in his seat to hail down a waiter. Or the way he doesn’t even stop talking when he flings out a hand to Richie’s stomach to stop him walking into Manhattan traffic.

A palmful of heat on his stomach through his tshirt, and Richie’s hit by what feels like a garbage truck regardless, slamming hand hand hand move it down hand on my dick and he is DESPAIRING of himself for mustering up a half-chub just for that.

After all. This is the man who regularly won nofap contests in some of the deepest darkest imageboards there were, if only because wringing a sad one out for Batman/Superman vampire bat transformation size kink blood inflation vore guro isn’t really something he could do twice

#idk if that exists but it might #some of the stuff on tf2chan circa 2009... woah nelly

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bat-famzine · 4 years

Text

Happy Thanksgiving to our followers in the US! We hope you can enjoy some hearty food and fun time with friends and family.

How does the Batfam celebrate Thanksgiving? What are their favorite foods? Check out the incredible @preciousthingsareprecious‘s take on a Batfam Thanksgiving celebration below the cut! Don’t forget to preorder a copy of the zine here to read more of her work, as well as amazing art and writing from our other contributors!

Jason’s attention was split. A small speaker rested on the counter behind him, the rising and falling voice of a narrator flowing from it as they read The Andromeda Evolution to the room. Below him on the counter he worked dough, kneading it with growing confidence. His apron, the counter, and the floor were all dusted with flour, spread in a mess he was not looking forward to cleaning up.

As the narrator moved into a long technical explanation Jason’s mind wandered back to the dough under his palms. It had been a long time since he’d made rolls from scratch, or any bread beyond quick easy ones-- like those that were just a batter thrown in a loaf pan and baked-- so he’d been nervous when he’d decided that if he was going to do this, he’d do it right. Still, his hands and arms remembered the repetitive push and pull of working the dough, even if the last time he’d done it was when he’d been a kid.

When he’d lived at the manor, it had become somewhat of a tradition for Jason to help with the rolls. He figured Alfred set him to them because kneading took such energy, but he’d loved it all the same. He loved cooking in general. More than that, he’d loved that it seemed to bring everyone together. He and Alfred, and then on holidays where there was much to be done, Bruce would join them for the easier tasks and chatting.

He smiled at those memories, holidays had been much quieter when he was Robin than what he was expecting today. The family had grown so much since then.

His smile turned down and he rolled his eyes, they were all still idiots though, nothing would change that. If not, he’d be in the kitchen at the manor helping Alfred cook and not settled into his own apartment with far too little counter space for all his needs.

The narrator moved from their technical description back to the team in the jungle and Jason let thoughts of family past and present fall away as he listened. He rolled the dough into a loose ball and moved to get his greased bowl, depositing the dough into it, and covering the whole thing with a towel before setting it aside to rise.

As Jason set it down, the doorbell rang. He tapped pause on the app playing the book and wiped his hands on his apron before moving to the door. When he opened it a burst of chilly air washed over him.

“Heya, Squirt.” Jason said to a somewhat anxious looking Damian standing at his doorway.

He scowled at the nickname, anxiety falling away as his obligation to be irritated with any name beyond his given taking precedence over worries. His arms were crossed across his chest against the cold, making him look small and alone in the doorway.

Jason stepped back, smiling at the kid, “Come on in.”

Damian hurried inside, and stopped short, looking around the apartment utterly bedecked in pumpkins, leaves, and crackling candles. Jason let his grin grow at Damian’s surprise.

“What, did you think I’d invite you over for Thanksgiving and not roll out the red carpet?”

Damian turned on him, “I was under the impression that most people do not decorate for Thanksgiving.”

Jason shrugged, closing the door, “I’m not most people. Besides, it’s not every day I’m the one having family over for a holiday.”

“Then you did not only invite me?” It was a question, sharp enough to say he knew the answer.

He wagged a finger at Damian, and moved back towards the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “Come on, I didn’t have you come early so you could loiter at the door.”

“Todd.” Damian demanded, stomping after him, “What kind of plan have you cooked up this time?”

Jason was already busy, pulling an assortment of fruit out of the fridge to set on one of the counters, “I’m going to need to you slice all of this into bite size bits for the fruit salad.”

“Jason.”

It was the use of his name, and the worry in Damian’s voice that made Jason turn his full attention onto his youngest brother. The anxious look Damian had on his face when he’d been at the door was back, more obvious this time than last.

“If you have invited everyone then I will not be able to--”

“Stop that.” Jason said, interrupting him, “This is why it’s me hosting this year, because you lot all got it in your heads that it would be better if everyone celebrated without you.”

“You lot?” Damian asked, brows knit, “Do you mean to say that I was not the only one to have claimed alternate plans to Father?”

Jason nodded. He’d called Alfred a week ago to confirm Thanksgiving plans and see when he was expected to arrive and learned that everyone had mysterious ‘other engagements’. A few calls later and Jason had learned that each and every one of his siblings had opted out of the holiday festivities in an attempt to make the day better for someone else, leaving Bruce and Alfred alone. The lot of them were self sacrificing to a fault. On Thanksgiving of all days. The idiots.

“Thanksgiving is about family.” Jason said, tossing an apple at Damian, “Peel those before you slice them,” he added three more to the growing stack of fruit on the counter, “Family and time spent being thankful you’ve got them in your life, and I’m not letting any of you skip out because we’ve all got the conversation skills of rocks.”

Damian still hadn’t moved, apple cradled in his hands, “If I had known...I did not wish Father and Pennyworth to be alone.” his voice was tight, slightly strained like he was fighting with emotions.

Jason moved over to him and put a hand on his shoulder, “It’s alright. It’s sorted and everyone’s coming over.” he grinned at Damian, “Alfred and I will make sure of that. I’ve got the adults bringing stuff, so pull your weight and help me out.”

They worked in tandem, Damian following Jason’s instructions as he gave them, and showing a lot of promise in the kitchen. Jason made a mental note to have the kid help him more often when the opportunity presented itself. To avoid too much silence Jason switched the book on his speaker to something he knew Damian was interested in. They listened and worked together as a new voice filled the room, spinning tales of fantastic events.

When another knock at the door resounded above the narrator’s voice, Jason paused it.

“That’ll be Dick. Get the door for me?” he said, checking on now risen dough.

He smiled to himself as he heard Dick’s surprised exclamation and rolled his eyes at Damian’s playful complaints of being “worked to the bone”. The two chatted with animated voices while Jason finished rolling individual rolls and setting them aside for their second rise. He turned just in time for Damian to lead Dick into the kitchen, the man carrying a large bowl of mashed potatoes.

“Now I see why you told me to bring enough for ten.” he said, grinning, “What’d you do, team up with Alfred to plot all this?”

Jason grinned at him and winked, making Dick choke on a laugh, “I should have known. Careful or you’ll be hosting every year.”

It was a warning Jason wasn’t sure he’d heed. Even with the few of them there, the feeling of the day was warm and comforting. He found himself looking forward to the chaos sure to fill his little apartment in a way he hadn’t looked forward to anything in a long time.

Everyone else filtered in slowly after that. Tim, Cass, and Steph came together having bumped into one another on the way bringing drinks and stuffing. Then Duke with a casserole looking much like something Alfred had made.

People milled around, Tim hijacked Jason’s speaker and started playing music, and Damian (now protective of the kitchen and his place helping) shooed out anyone trying to sneak an early bite of dinner. It was a tight fit in Jason’s apartment, but comfortable. And everyone was smiling, despite all the worries of “If I’m here I’ll fight with them” and “It would be more peaceful if I did not come”. Jason fully expected some kind of spat to happen at some point, but what was a family gathering without a little bit of mess?

Jason left his youngest brother stirring the gravy to greet Bruce and Alfred when they arrived. Each carried one of Alfred’s famous pies. Alfred had a delighted twinkle in his eye and Bruce looked startled but happy.

“I never doubted you for a moment.” Alfred said, patting Jason on the shoulder before taking Bruce’s pie from him and moving to the kitchen to leave them together.

When they were alone Bruce cast his eyes around the group, “You got everyone together?”

“Alfred helped.” Jason said.

“But you spearheaded it.”

Jason shrugged, at a loss for words. Which was silly, it wasn’t like he’d done anything huge or dug them out single handedly from rubble or something. He’d just tricked everyone into coming over for Thanksgiving dinner.

“Thanks.” Bruce said, and tugged him into a hug, “It’s good to have everyone together.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Old Man.” Jason said clearing his throat of the sudden tightness there, “Alfred threatened not to bake at all if the whole family didn’t come.”

This made his dad laugh, “Nothing motivates like Alfred’s pies.”

“We should try bribing criminals with them.” Jason said.

“Todd!” Damian’s head poked from the kitchen, his nose was smeared with what could be either mashed potatoes or whipped cream, “Your assistance is required in the kitchen.” his eyes caught onto Bruce, “Oh, hello, Father.”

“Damian.” Bruce nodded, “You’ve got a bit of uh.” he motioned to his nose.

Damian’s eyes just about crossed to look at his nose before he wiped a hand across it, “It is Drake’s fault. Both of you come, or the whole meal will be ruined.”

Jason waved him back in, and turned back to Bruce, “That’s our cue, ready to go save the day?”

Bruce nodded, “Lead the way.”

#batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #barbara gordon #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #batgirl #alfred pennyworth #duke thomas #fanzine #batfamily #batfam

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gyoomie · 3 years

Text

2020 rec & reflect under the cut

manga/webtoons

standout webtoons (ongoing): death is the only ending for the villainess (abuse cw) / beware of the villainess / a painter behind the curtain (nsfw BL; general cw)

standout manga (ongoing): the holy grail of eris / gokusai no ie

standout BL: nomi x shiba (mild nsfw) / see you later, mermaid (only extra chapter is nsfw) / torokeru chouai celluloid (explicit nsfw)

help why is it such a permanent dry spell for memorable yuri 💔 i do follow a few but i feel like its always either office or school romances + very little plot happens smh

music (mostly kpop)

oneus come back home / airplane / bbusyeo

mamamoo iljido (moonbyul) / maria (hwasa) / wanna be myself (cf song)

other standout title tracks wannabe (itzy) / oh my god (g-idle) / left & right (seventeen) / pporappippam (sunmi) / sacrifice (seung woo of victon)

ive definitely ventured more into kpop this year? ALSO OMG READY STEADY. GIGA. WHAT A MAN. he really injected some much needed life into the fandom with all the songs he dropped this year, a glorious return from the war 🤧🤧

writing

total wordcount (including unpublished zine pieces): 27,635 words

im a contributor for two for-charity zines: mlb love squared and personaloid. please take a look if ur interested, and support them if u can 🙏🏻

as of today (31.12.20), i will no longer be cross-posting fics onto ffnet - from 2021 onwards, ill only be posting my fics here (tumblr) and ao3!

im gonna be real here for a second - im not sure how often ill be writing for vocaloid. the fandom has become increasingly aggressive in the way it polices shipping and it does make me a little anxious 💀 but we’ll see how it goes yea

uni/personal

IM FINALLY DONE WITH UNI AYYY ill be graduating next year ✨

2020 has been surprisingly fruitful in terms of writing output - despite the pandemic hitting my mental health with a mf sledgehammer - but ive also been feeling rather out of place in fandom spaces for a while now, esp twitter. its partly the reason why ive become quieter on all my accts in recent years.

in a way, i kind of feel stuck between “vocaloid will always be home” and “im out of touch with vocaloid now + i dont keep up with prsk”, which is like. so where do i go from here. dabbling in other fandoms and new music is fun, but theres only so much fun yelling into a void by myself and hearing nothing back.

in a way, it feels a little lonely. it feels a little sad. but that is on me to figure out.

regardless, next year is gonna be a bit of a wild card for me (bc life transition and all), but i hope to keep writing. if ur reading this, thank u for staying - yall the real mvps.

with that said, heres to 2021!! 🥂💖

#i really enjoyed reading back my end of 2019 post so i decided to do it again this year #i tried to keep it simpler this time tho sjdbsdsb #there are some impt announcements in here too so do skim thru if u have the time!!#gyoomiebabbles

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mimiplaysgames · 4 years

Text

A Powerful Enough Dream (Ch. 3)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua (eventually) Rating: T Word Count: 9,275

Summary: Too many people need Aqua’s help, and if she’s going to do her job as a Keyblade Master, she’s going to have to set aside her personal needs to pull them through... Only to find that something is not entirely alright with her.

Read on AO3

A/N: Ahhhh, I've never meant to ignore this particular fic for so long. ^^;; In all honesty, aside from so many other things going on in my life (I went on hiatus and am due for another, I was dedicated to other projects and I just got accepted into another zine ;-; and there was my stupid, broken computer which is now replaced! :D), I really dreaded writing this one. When I announced that I was splitting this story in two fics, I knew I dug a grave for myself. There is no way to fix this chapter without rewriting the first one entirely, but I figured it was much more important to get started Aqua on her journey and I need this loose end tied as soon as possible. If you're new to this story, I'm sorry this chapter is so bad - I'm totally aware, I promise. I've tried my hardest to make this side-quest as sensible as possible.

****

Crazy

His heart beats hard, fast, irregular, and it's about to collapse.

He doesn't hear how ragged his breath is, running as desperately as he is, and he ignores how much his muscles are screaming for rest.

Then there's the headache. That's the one thing Terra is mindful of.

He trips.

The Realm of Darkness doesn't make it easy, not with how rough it shapes its terrain, like it tripped him on purpose. Cobblestones not fitting well together. Pits in the dirt. Rocks hidden in tall grass where he won't notice.

Flashes of light burst somewhere far behind. It's too foggy to see what's going on. Terra spits sweat out of his lips.

There are eyes - a pair wedged right next to a pebble, near enough to grab his fingers. Another in the hollow trunk of a tree. And one more in the distance, in the direction he was heading, and now he has to choose another way and pray he doesn't fall off a cliff.

Behind him, he hears bubbling, the same sickly sound that always announces the arrival of Heartless.

It simmers across his back and he grabs whatever landed on him and throws it as hard as he can and he summons Ends of the Earth -

But can't. He hasn't been able to, not since he left the beach.

Not since he saw a flash of light and Aqua was gone, sent home to her freedom like she deserves. Not since some tall men in dark, hooded cloaks appeared out of nowhere in the sandy shores. Organization members. They wanted to kidnap him.

Terra had to choose between waiting for his friends to come back in dangerous waters, or running away.

When he can turn back into Xehanort at any moment.

He chose to run.

And now he's surrounded without a Keyblade. He thinks about Xemnas, and even though he's tired, and even though his stomach hurts, he takes that brief memory of what it feels like to be numb, to be detached and disheartened, and waves his hands in a sweep against the earth and flies them upward.

A barrier shoots erect - but not just any protective shield, an offensive one. The type that electrifies the Heartless that ram into it, and sends them flying backwards. The kind only a Nobody can summon.

He conjures more - two by his side, another behind him - to force these damn things to back off, and he escapes when he's had enough -

Tripping again when the Realm tricks a hill to look like a straight path and oops, there he goes, falling in air, rolling against dry dirt and tumbling until he finally halts.

It's dark down here. The headache will split his scalp open.

"No," he grumbles, running fingers through his hair and he wants to rip the strands off. "I can't control-"

His limbs go rigid. "No," he says again. He wants to make sure Xehanort hears him loud and clear.

Terra cannot summon his armor anymore for that matter, since Xehanort has clouded both in darkness. They should be in arms' reach, waiting peacefully in his heart, ready to come at his will… but it's like his Keyblade can't see or hear him either.

He manages a small sob when he loses control of his arms - which are quite literally, moving on their own to grip at his legs.

The taste of loss is bitter, as prickly as the tree roots ripping out of the earth and tangling around him. It's like the Realm sees what he's going through, and wants to point and laugh. They squeeze, tightening so his bones can't reply, and he's left to allow them to drag him.

But light is warm and always there - because without it, there wouldn't be any shadows. It shines like a halo, making the roots writhe and wrinkle away, letting him go, letting him breathe. It eases his headache, which he knows won't last forever, but finally… relief.

"Mickey?"

Two large, yellow shoes - big enough to belong to a clown - step in front of him, a pair of comically round ears leering over him with a huge smile. Mickey is the physical embodiment of a hearth, of everything that makes children happy in the outside world, a complete mismatched reflection of the twisted underground of the Realm.

"Slipped, did ya?" he squeaked.

"Maybe," Terra scoffs, just able to move a finger to trace the dirt. It feels so real.

As real as Aqua's skin when he held her - he held her. That was real. And she escaped. Terra considers this a success, a wish fulfilled, to stay behind so she could taste food again.

… Terra didn't even get a chance to tell her about his feelings. He chickened out in the last minute.

She's smart. She'll free Ven, too. And Terra will drag Xehanort to drown in the darkness together.

If he can manage to keep control of his body that is.

Mickey's Keyblade now dons some new chinks and chips.

If they continue this way, neither of them will last much longer. Terra has already woken up a couple of times, right in the middle of a duel with Mickey, a silver Keyblade high in the air and ready to strike, only for Terra to realize what he's holding and drops it. It's flashes of moments that in reality may have lasted only minutes but seem much longer. If Xehanort keeps hacking away, Mickey's Keyblade will break.

And then Terra won't have anyone left to help him.

But it hurts, that headache.

"Chin up, Terra," Mickey says, surveying where they should head to next.

The fog dissipates and gives them two paths: one paved with a line of lanterns illuminating the way, the other a rocky uphill hike into a forest.

"I… need to rest," Terra breathes, wanting to take back the words. If he rests, he'll lose control again.

"Aww, Terra, don't worry."

"I'll hurt you again." He chokes on a whimper, the headache roaring this time. "I don't know how Aqua survived years of this…"

Hands take hold of his shoulders, and this small mouse, barely as tall as his knees, takes Terra's entire weight onto his shoulders to sit him up. "Remember, I got ya."

"What are we going to do? I can't summon my Keyblade anymore and I just don't-"

Terra doesn't know what to say. I just don't know if I can keep waiting for anyone to come back?

"Well," Mickey muses, "we'll have to keep moving."

Thanks, Captain Obvious.

"I don't know how you do it, either."

"I don't have Xehanort weighing me down, and I think that makes you pretty strong. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"This place doesn't make you sad?"

"If I think about it…" A frown on Mickey's face is ill-fitting. "But we don't have time for that."

Funny, since the Realm will be sure to give them all the time it has to offer. The Realm will be sure to give them reasons to stay.

Maybe it's darkness creeping in, or maybe Terra had enough of reality to taste - it's sour.

"I don't see how anyone is going to find us," he says.

Mickey is silent for a moment.

"I had an old friend," he starts, "who used to have a motto he lived his life by."

He holds a fist up, and releases each of his four fingers with every rule: "'First, think. Second, dream. Third, believe. And finally, dare.' To honor him, I have to believe that every step we take will get us closer to freedom."

As if to prove a point, he faces Terra, and finishes with, "I think that's what helped Aqua last this long down here."

Condensed simply, those all sound like tenants of a Keyblade wielder.

"Was your friend a gentle man?" Terra asks.

Mickey smiles with a shrug to his shoulder. "Ohoho, he also said something to the effect of, 'You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you.'"

"... It makes you stronger." How often has his own Master said the same thing? The Realm will kick him when he's already down, and he's supposed to stand on his own two feet and carry on like it doesn't hurt.

"Something like that." Mickey points to the rocky uphill hike. "My heart tells me this will be the safer way to go. C'mon Terra. How's about we keep going? Our friends think about us all the time, and they will light our way."

Terra grunts like his legs hate him, and he rolls his neck. It helps soothe the headache.

"Okay."

It starts with the suggestion by a simple-minded mouse, and Terra gets on his feet, fighting off dizziness, to face more odd nights.

****

The clock still hasn't struck ten and if the way her legs are shaking are any indication of how… is annoyed is the right word? Anxious?

Impatient. Aqua keeps crossing her legs and checks the time, and for a second she thinks she's back in the Realm of Darkness when she swears the minute hand went backwards.

The lights in the lobby are dim, the carpet as red as a deep wound. The chair she's lounging in is comfortable at least, but it nags at her back and she's desperate to move. She's still in the hotel, her heart torn by her duty to the people she swore to protect, nowhere near Ventus, nowhere near Terra, nowhere near anywhere she truthfully wants to be. If it continues to tear in opposite directions, will her heart break in two?

Rydia is also slouched in a lounge chair of her own, and has a radio playing, the static clearing to the lullaby of an accordion and violin. Their story is a long trek through a city filled with the lights of a harp, guided by the sad, gentle canals of a tuba. The violin abandons the accordion, and the tuba reassures the accordion, and it's lonely until they all reunite powerfully at the end of a long night.

Rydia is dressed stunning as always, her empire sleeves in gold trimming piling on top of the floor as she braids and unbraids her long green hair, a gentle smile on her face as she eases into her chair, losing herself to the song.

Everyone around Aqua is either doing two things: hustling to wherever they need to be - the infirmary, the battlefield, to their families - or, they linger, living out the seconds until Kefka comes.

Until Kefka comes: that is what is on everyone's mind, and Aqua can't bear to pass more than a second of thought to it.

But she'll stand corrected when the clock finally hits ten, and after ten strikes from the clock tower, here come the sirens.

They wail at first, getting louder which every passing vibration until she can't hear anything else, and she feels Rydia getting stiff right next to her. The sirens keep blaring.

They quiet, only to come back around and Aqua realizes the town is desperate because there won't be a place that could possibly escape the sound. They need her help. Terra and Ven need her help. Too many people need her help.

Focus, Aqua.

Silence, and her heart still drums in her ear.

"I swear that clock tower is haunted," Rydia says, slowly letting out breath as if letting it go all at once would make too much noise. The music sounds softer, as if the sirens had intimidated it, and Rydia leans over to bring her ears closer. "It always knows when to interrupt the best parts."

When Aqua stares at her with uneasy eyes, Rydia continues, "Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

Aqua never wants to hear them again.

The bustling energy in the hotel took pause during the sirens, and is now at full speed again - maybe even faster, knowing the minutes are ticking. Kefka arrives at eleven. One hour.

Cid barges through, keeping the double doors to the lobby open with a lit cigarette pursed in his lips, and a scowl worse than his usual attitude. "Incomin'."

In comes a tall, blond man with ridiculously spiky hair, and a giant blade strapped to his back (giant is an understatement), dragging carts of wooden boxes, throwing them open to reveal potions - as much as a store inventory.

Aqua recognizes him faintly from the night she came through the Door to Light... and suddenly she feels that twist in her gut, a sweaty coldness that only comes with what she must be most familiar with at this point.

Darkness. This man has the trace of it… and Cid is helping him like no one is in danger and Rydia is welcoming him like he's a friend.

The man pauses his hyper-focus when he sees Aqua, the severe look on his face softening with… pity.

"You're Aqua, right?" he asks her.

"That's right." She hates the way he's looking at her. "And you're…?"

"Cloud." Here it comes. "I'm sorry about Terra."

She has to remind herself that people mean well (and once she frees Terra, everyone will stop trying to apologize to her).

"Thank you," she says and she's relieved she doesn't sound ungrateful.

Cloud looks away at first, minorly distracted by Cid's grumbling about how they only have one ram left for the fight. Then he stands up, approaching Aqua.

"I was really torn up when I heard," Cloud says, uneasy like it's weird for him to be so open-hearted, "but I respect his decision. He has a good head on his shoulders."

Then he extends his hand to her. "Welcome to the team, Aqua."

Cloud has a gentle half-smile on his face, and darkness extends its hand, expecting her to shake it.

She's expected to be polite and she tries - she really wants to try - but her hand limps in his firm shake. Cloud gets the message, dropping his own and turning over his shoulder. "I'll be at the site," he tells Cid. "Hurry it up."

Cid groans, and saying out of ear shot, "Kid swears he's a hot shot."

Aqua rolls her lips inward.

"You alright?" Rydia asks, leaning forward.

"He has darkness." It's impolite to say, but Aqua has little patience to play with the dark.

Rydia cocks an eyebrow, her gray eyes searching for a proper explanation. "Your point? We all harbor darkness within ourselves."

"That is true, but… it's not normal to be able to sense it."

Rydia sits back, nodding to what she's understanding. "I suppose Cloud has been through so much, considering… what I don't understand is why it has to be such a black and white issue."

"What do you mean?"

"Where I come from, darkness isn't considered to be evil, at least among mages. We have white and black magic, but it has more to do with how you wield them. Darkness alone says nothing of your character."

Then Rydia smiles, to prove her point. "I trust Cloud with my life."

Aqua supposes she's being unfair - after all, her reflection has proven to her countless times that there are cracks within her very own heart, and it's unrealistic to believe they have all been sealed and darkness-proof.

There's been a lot of nights when Aqua had wondered if she should end it, pierce her chest with her Master's Keyblade and let the ocean take her. What darker sadness could there be besides that?

And then there's Terra… he has darkness, and maybe it's strong but it's always outshined by his spirit. He will always be a good person.

"Cloud, the sad hero," Cid gruffs, pulling potions out onto tables so everyone who passes by can easily pack them. "Basque in his greatness when he feels sorry for you."

Rydia takes a sleeve her mouth to cover her chuckles. "Where is this coming from?"

"He's more depressin' than an opera." He takes a puff of smoke. "But eh, I can respect 'im. He gets shit done."

Cid glances over to the hallway, suddenly switching gears and gives the two girls a fair warning: "Look sharp."

It's for Garnet's arrival, who is followed closely by Lulu, the organizer of the orphanage... So she hasn't followed the children to safety after all.

Garnet walks like she's on air, the most feminine Aqua has ever seen, her head held high like she's not as small as she really is, her hair and her bubble sleeves floating like there's a breeze that only graces her presence. Her heart is determined and open, embracing what's to come.

Lulu has her arms crossed, her face contorted in annoyance and a touch of impeccable, heavy makeup, her fur and leather-trimmed gown trailing long behind her. She walks with responsibility, but her heart doesn't want to accept what's going on around her.

"You're going to find me hard to submit, Your Highness," Lulu says, her voice as serious as her disposition.

Garnet whips around. "What you propose is preposterous."

"Your point?" Lulu scoffs. "I didn't stay behind to let you do what you please. I'm speaking for what is best for everyone else."

Garnet huffs. As if to end the conversation, she pretends to organize through potions even though they are all the same color, handing over some to Lulu, taking more for the battle ahead.

Lulu apprehensively accepts, and proposes something: "When the children want to win an argument, they play a game called Snap. Winner gets the final word."

"Is that so?"

"It's a game of magical prowess. Hold a coin flat in between both palms, and you fight to keep it."

Garnet straightens up, understanding exactly the kind of filibustering Lulu is trying to do, and extends her hand, gesturing to be given something. "Let's have it, then."

Out of Lulu's bra comes a large silver coin. She holds the coin together with Garnet's palm, like they are slapping it in place. Visually, nothing seems to be happening as their faces lose themselves to concentration, but Aqua recognizes the energy in the air: there is magic bustling in between their fingertips, and whoever exercises more willpower gets to keep the coin.

"Now," Lulu says and they pull hands apart like they're avoiding harm.

It takes a moment to process, and Garnet flips her fingers to reveal that the coin has stayed with her. Whether it's beginner's luck or she's that more skillful, Aqua doesn't know enough to figure.

"I've won," Garnet announces.

"Except you've lost," Lulu says with dejection, with concern, with stern ambition. She hovers over to Rydia's side.

Rydia has cast her eyes downward, avoiding the game altogether, a profound look of guilt betraying her need to keep a straight face.

Three women standing on one side of the room with Garnet opposing them.

It's enough for Cid, who's sitting on his own away from the drama, to throw his hands in the air, as if saying this isn't worth the trouble. "Women."

"What is going on?" Aqua asks.

Her interruption makes Garnet jump, but the princess ignores the question.

So Lulu answers, her tone as exasperated as her eye roll. "Garnet thinks she can get away with sacrificing herself."

"You haven't left me with much choice," Garnet says, sending a glance over to Rydia. "I have been blessed with more time to be there for those in need of me. And yet, I have to do what is best for my people, and I cannot sit idly by to watch you play the sacrifice on my behalf."

Aqua stands up. "I don't understand what you're implying." Except she does understand. She just refuses that there's any justification to it.

Garnet breathes, ignoring Lulu's scoff. "Kefka demands female mages… Turn them into Heartless or else it will continue to haunt us every single night, and I cannot have this when we are in the middle of evacuations. I must ensure the safety of my peers."

Garnet then holds a hand to her heart. "Speak of nothing to Noctis. He'd never leave me out of his sight if he knew."

Hands gripped into themselves, shaking her head, Aqua groans and doesn't know what to say. "Riku never…" Said anything to me.

Just to stay behind and protect the hotel, out of real harm's way without giving her a choice.

So Aqua sets her sights. "Kefka is supposed to come every other night, right?"

"That is correct."

"So you'll buy one night with your life?"

"...Yes. We are the last ones." She gestures to herself, Lulu, and Rydia.

The entire room is quiet, weighed down by the severity of what was said.

They are the last ones, and does it matter really which order they get taken out, one by one?

It's not fair. It's ridiculous, and Aqua, Keyblade Master, is not going to tolerate it.

"Your Highness," she says, "I don't mean to show disrespect, but I think you should listen more to your peers."

Rydia leans forward, like she's looking for a speck of hope. Lulu thanks some force out there that someone around here is speaking reason.

"What would have me do, Master Aqua?" Garnet asks gently. "Shall I be content in my path to survival while those who've paved it for me waste away?"

Aqua swallows hard. The job of a Keybearer will sometimes have easy missions, and sometimes impossible ones, but they are all equal in the importance of saving lives. This decision is a no-brainer.

Even if they buy just one more night of peace, Terra is rotting and Aqua has to get going. Ventus is waiting and she promised…

"If Kefka wants a female mage, I'll give it one," she says, starting to head to the exit.

Garnet drops her jaw. "Are you mad? In your condition?"

"I don't have a condition." Aqua stops at the ornately carved wooden doors, and turns to face everyone in the room. "Cid, can you take my place in protecting the hotel?"

It's not just Aqua and the other mages squaring themselves against Garnet's judgment - Cid proudly dusts off his shoulders, nodding. "Better than facing that crazy clown."

Crazy clown doesn't seem to cut it as an appropriate nickname for the terror everyone around Aqua is feeling.

Aqua glances over to Rydia, who is still healing from a wound. "You need to always be by her side. Rydia, are you okay with this?"

Rydia has fire in her eyes, grabbing her longstaff and using it to keep herself standing. "I don't need to move much to destroy Heartless. I'm strong, and I'll stay."

"You're either really naive, or really powerful," Lulu says to Aqua. "I'll take my chances. I'll follow." She picks her potions like she's heard good news, taking her place across the room.

Garnet stands silent, defeated, with an expression that makes Aqua feel horrible, as though the Keyblade Master is really asking the princess to commit to something that is extraordinarily difficult and painful.

This morning, she had such a bright light within her that her healing touch shone white. Now it's dim, her eyes an empty black.

"It's my job to protect you," Aqua says, attempting to comfort her.

And Garnet only stares, like she doesn't believe it. Like she's faced this too many times, and knows from experience that they will all lose.

****

By the way she breaknecks towards the third district, Aqua can feel the clock ticking, even though the tower is quiet.

She takes long strides, stepping on the occasional puddle, leaving a poor Garnet to jog with her short legs in order to keep up. Traverse Town is decorated in lights, but it's otherwise a vacation town for ghosts. No one to dream about fancy jewelry, to admire the latest fashion, to salivate at the aroma of tonight's dinner.

The third district would have been a sight if it wasn't already halfway-destroyed - debris piling on colorful electrical wiring, lanterns that have been bent in half, a water fountain that has been blown open, and apartment homes with all the lights off, wind blowing through curtains. No one lives here anymore.

In the place of a bustling modern district are a bunch of wooden crates, tossed around between people to gather potions and weapons. ...It's a lot of fighters for one Heartless. Aqua would make the fourth Keyblade wielder up against this thing.

A part of her has this sudden apprehension to take another step forward - these people follow her now, swayed by her confidence that all of their worries will end tonight.

What if she has given them false hope?

Could she cope with it?

It's cold. Someone is watching her.

Aqua recognizes this feeling, since she's been faced with it for the better part of twelve years. There's already Heartless here, and she looks every which way to see if she could spot them hiding among the shadows.

Whatever is there is already studying the people gathering here, honing on the way Garnet and Lulu stride towards the middle of the square, pleased by how frantic people are rushing to finish preparations.

She whips around to find the clock tower in the distance, a great vantage point for anyone to stalk from. It's twenty past ten, but…

It's very cold.

Kefka is already here. It's just waiting for the time to start.

It's a sick situation, Kefka twirling these terrorized people in its fingers.

Aqua's expecting to find a certain pair of yellow eyes that would normally come from feral demons, but a different pair perks up when he sees her arriving to the third district.

And they belong to none other than Lea. She is surprised that he even cares that much.

Or maybe he's just really dramatic, but something about the twitch of his lips tells her that he isn't exactly pleased with her presence there.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he says with a smirk, feigning surprise and she doesn't know why he tries so hard to plant certain impressions on other people.

Aqua has no other answer for him except the obvious: "I have to help."

The facade in his eyes flicker out like a lighter turning off. He places his hands on his waist, letting himself be more honest, yet still keeping a hot air of distance between them. "Are you sure it's a good idea for you to fight something this malicious?"

The nerve of him. "I've faced more nightmares than anyone has ever slept with. I can take care of myself."

"Even after what Terra went through to get you back? Do you think that's fair to him?"

Aqua stammers. It isn't fair to drag Terra into this… "I don't need your permission to fight."

She leaves him with his mouth wide-open, searching for words and failing to find them.

Which only leaves her hearing the words, "She's just as dense as him!" fading behind her. It makes her smirk. Terra hasn't changed - when he has his mind set, he can become the worst kind of stubborn, as immovable as a boulder.

On her way to the middle of the square, past some men mapping out the upper levels where long-range fighters should situate, Aqua finds two particular individuals in one of the highest balconies who take way too much interest in watching her.

A well-dressed man, impeccably so, his silk sleeves a clean white like he's never been to battle, bracelets like he appreciates the finer things in life, and an exquisite embroidered vest like he can afford it, and a rifle sitting casually on his shoulder. He's not the one who initially took an interest in her - he only does so when his partner whispers to him about her arrival.

Said partner is a dark-skinned woman, with long, stark white hair that reaches her thighs, and jackrabbit ears stretching high into the sky out of her helmet. It only makes her look taller, taller than the well-dressed man, taller than Terra. Something about this woman makes Aqua wonder if she's seen her before, but this is no time to sit and think about it - that can wait until later. This rabbit-woman immediately takes notice of Aqua, tightening her grip on her bow.

Now there are two more pairs of eyes watching Aqua's back as she continues onward, out of ear-shot of whatever their opinions are.

Aqua comes across Cloud and Noctis, the latter with a clipboard filled with a checklist to make sure everything is in order. Occasionally he asks Cloud about the setup. Garnet and Lulu are already making laps around the square to check in on their sole wooden ram - Aqua gets the sense that Garnet is avoiding her, and Lulu is only following to make sure she doesn't do anything drastic.

Without really looking at Cloud in the eye, Aqua reaches over to hold Noctis' elbow firmly. "Make sure to keep an eye on Garnet," she says softly.

Noctis stammers before getting grim, and he's disappointed. He looks over his shoulder, where he sees Garnet cheerfully speak to a man like nothing is wrong and no foul plans are being made.

"Make that four eyes," Cloud says, smirking, and Aqua can't bring herself to smile back.

"Thanks for the warning," Noctis says. "She never learns."

… That's the weird thing about the people here. There's so much sadness, in Noctis' eyes, in Cloud's, in Garnet's… and they try smiling anyway like they're tricking themselves. Aqua doesn't remember if she's ever really smiled the entire time she's been in the Realm of Darkness.

Maybe once, when she saw apparitions of Terra and Ventus, but when they disappeared, she reasoned that she was being too hopeful. That it was never really truly a smile, because she can only give one around the people she loves. Not ghosts.

How grateful she is that a super-friendly face comes running up to her, bright (huge) yellow shoes splish-splashing through puddles to greet her, Donald and Goofy closeby.

"What are you doing here?" Sora asks, skidding to a stop.

Aqua really wishes people would stop questioning her drive. "Where is Riku?"

Sora takes a pause, his eyes darting for a moment towards the ground. "He's not here yet."

So it's not four Keybearers against Kefka, but three.

A faint thought nags at the back of her mind again. "He never told me about the female mages."

Sora's eyes widen, like he forgot that detail. But he lets it melt away into a small smile. "Riku hides stuff from me, too, sometimes."

"You've fought it before? Kefka?" Aqua searches his eyes for the truth, and she realizes that she actually sounds apprehensive.

She could fail this mission. It wouldn't be the first.

"Ah, phooey!" Donald scoffs, waving his arms like he's shooing a gnat. He's in a really bad mood, and how can he not when he's stuck here for duty's sake just like everyone else? "It's just a clown."

Sora brightens up, a triumphant fist in his palm. "We have a good team here."

His smile is ill-fitting because it's genuine. Nothing like the others who try to hide their fear, but he makes his out of immense faith. Sora's light is powerful, and… rare, Aqua thinks.

"We do," she says, remembering Ven's smile. Something about Sora reminds Aqua that there are reasons to look forward to happier times.

But everything pleasant is short-lived, and maybe that's a sad fact of life.

Someone screams. Points to the clock tower.

The minute hand speeds up, gaining velocity towards the top of the eleventh hour.

It takes three strikes of the bells for everyone to decide whether this is a joke or it's actually happening early.

Two more strikes for Noctis to yell, "Get aggressive! Stay alive!"

Three more for Garnet to whisper a spell that shines a light upon every single person in the area, and another two for Aqua to witness a faint crystal wrap and spin around her before fading away.

A protection spell, something completely unique and rare. Garnet's light is pure and blinding.

One more and it strikes eleven. Ten minutes to do the job or Kefka walks for another night.

The bubbling that signals the arrival of Heartless gargles, a dark mass growing and growing and growing to the size of a building, before an enormous clown steps down, shaking the ground underneath its mismatched shoes and socks.

It laughs, piercing like a speaker is about to blow her ears. Aqua clutches her heart, protecting it from ripping out of her chest - everyone else is gripping their heads like they're containing a massive migraine.

Kefka leans forward just to take a peek at Aqua, its stupid-looking collar a vomit-inducing mix of yellow and red, three swords carried on each shoulder, its white mask welded onto its dark face, bright yellow eyes in circles wide and without lids, a smile painted and screwed together -

And two huge gashes diagonally across its shield of a face, exposing the skin of a shadow underneath.

They all have been saying this thing is impenetrable. Sure.

Aqua summons her Master's Defender.

The clown's hands shiver, and its jaw widens just like a machine - it lets out a screech that sounds like gears out of control, getting louder and louder like Kefka is offended by her weapon.

And it cuts off.

A cleaver flies into its face, knocking it out of place. There's no way someone has that kind of strength but there is Noctis appearing out of nowhere in its tail, like the weapon is a destination. He strikes and Kefka barely blocks it with its forearm. Noctis throws his cleaver elsewhere, and wherever it appears he warps to. He sends a spear to strike Kefka's shoulder. Disappears. A sword, and then Noctis again, attempting to jab the clown in the eye.

Either way, Noctis stays up high, distracting the clown from doing anything else, like a fly determined to be annoying.

"Light!" Sora yells.

He beams, a force bursting out before racing back to his body, and suddenly he illuminates white and takes two Keyblades (Two? Aqua can't think about it right now), sending himself flying high, his weapons a passion to be reckoned with.

They are both heavy hitters, Noctis and Sora, black and white, one sneaky, the other forward, both brave.

Aqua has much to catch up to.

If it's aggressiveness they want, she has plenty of it. Her magic swirls around her as she charges forward, drawing her thoughts inward to her belly, letting her body twirl faster and faster to hurl the energy out in whips and circles.

Donald and Lulu tag team, throwing lightning strikes, icicles, fireballs on the top of the clown's head. It really, really hates having its face touched, and between those spells and Sora and Noctis zipping around like insects, there's already enough distractions.

Cloud thrusts at its metal calves with his giant sword, an impressive power from below to add to the frenzy.

The well-dressed man and the rabbit-woman take calculated shots from afar, aiming for the eyes and only when the clown has an opening.

Lea also takes that cue and throws firey pot shots from afar even though he's a Keyblade wielder (maybe it's smarter to keep a distance).

Goofy is a little all over the place, but his attack, inspired by a tornado, hits the spot when it does, joining Aqua in the mess she's created.

That's… ten fighters at least against one Heartless and it doesn't do much.

Kefka instead takes a moment to just… stand there and take the heat like it isn't bothered. It can't be this easy.

It's not. Like it suddenly woke up, Kefka stomps the ground, and with it comes a roundabout of explosions that start at the rooftops right behind it and circle the entire third district, tossing debris into the ground and causing several people to succumb to coughing fits.

Garnet immediately checks person to person, her light shining to heal. Noctis is already at her side, and she pretends not to notice.

Cloud starts yelling commands to get the ram ready. He's trying to maneuver it and several men crowd together with him to make it move faster. "Aim it toward our bombs. Let's send it back to darkness!"

As though Kefka heard him, it sprints directly towards Cloud and his group of fighters, as if ready to run them flat. They all scream.

Sora scrambles for the feet with his double-weaponry and misses - just because Kefka likes to hop and skip around.

The clown freezes before it takes the last step, one knee high in the ground like it's deciding to squish them, and a hand outstretched - and balls into a fist.

Aqua expects another explosion, and the fighters scream again in fear.

The fist makes a honk - like a toy car.

Kefka laughs and everyone hurts, hands gripping heads to ease the headache, Aqua holding her heart still.

Now Kefka ignores the men it has targeted.

It instead whips around and with that same balled fist, it throws a blast of dark energy at the group of fighters on the opposite side - throwing bodies, slamming doors, disheveling potions and ripping weapons from their holders.

Aqua stumbles from the quakes, and she sees freed hearts, softly glowing, floating gently as the bodies disappear - three of them at least, heading towards the sky.

"No…"

Three lives lost already. She's failing.

Lulu is on the ground, clutching a Moogle doll closely to her chest as Lea holds her by the shoulders. Garnet is frantically throwing light to various people. The only healer in the group.

Both female mages are okay for now.

Kefka loses interest in Cloud's group - who are still preparing the only ram - to strut across the square like no one is watching, right toward a vulnerable Lulu.

Not like she's the type to get intimidated. She raises a fist close to her face, a succession of explosions slapping Kefka in the face and keeping it at bay. She's shaking it like she's grabbing hold onto something stronger than her and the explosions keep going until she has no choice but to let go.

Here is where Lea follows her patterns, but he's not as skilled at the Keyblade. Blessed with deception, definitely, his movements just as unpredictable as Kefka's, throwing fireballs to distract the clown like tossing bees, only to look like he'll dodge in one direction but he really dodges another.

All to keep the clown's attention away from Lulu.

"Cloud!" Lea yells. "Now!"

Cloud and two men push the ram with all their mind, Cloud yelling about making sure to hit it from the southeast direction or they'll miss the planted bomb.

Then the ram loses a wheel. Dilapidates onto the ground.

Kefka takes notice. It always smiles at the expense of others.

A loud whistle, and the sound of water. A wave. A tsunami, really. The well-dressed man blew the whistle, summoning a massive wave to overflow the district and head straight for Kefka.

A new ram, built by exquisitely rare water magic.

This is no time to admire, but an opportunity and Aqua takes it, throwing a trail of ice onto the water as it passes by her and she skates it up, up, and up. When she gets to the crest, she spreads the ice all over the thrash of ripples, turning them into steely icicles, straight into Kefka's torso, right onto the building behind it.

She missed the planted bomb but she's got it pinned. Standing on an icy wave, face to face with the smiling beast. It struggles against the ice, and she readies her Keyblade.

"Time to take care of you," she says.

Kefka stops, leaning its head forward with whatever movement it has left to stare right into her eyes, and even though it's programmed to make only one expression, it almost looks like it's smiling wider.

Aqua lowers her Keyblade. Kefka isn't in front of her anymore but there are flashing pictures of a man. A funny-dressed man, a river, throwing poison into the water, so much that it turns dark. There are many people dead and there's a laugh, and a trial, and a battle, and powerful magical transformations.

The worst kind of people become the worst kind of Heartless.

There's a voice.

"Crazy is just a word they use to describe us."

Aqua has never known a Heartless to be able to talk. It can't talk, it's all in her head.

"What?"

"What are you doing?" Donald yells from the ground below.

Kefka has its large hands around the brim of her icy prison and breaks it piece by piece, thrashing against the building, and she slips and slides off the back of the wave, away from its inevitable freedom.

"Let's go!" Sora and Lea zoom past her, aiming for the clown before it sets loose, but Lea is smarter and backs out when he realizes it's too late, and Sora keeps going until he's exhausted.

One of his Keyblades fade away and he falls, Goofty barely catching him while skating on his shield.

"Keep it up, come on!" Noctis yells to a huge disheartened crowd, followed by Cloud for another barrage of assaults.

Not that Kefka is particularly interested. It hops and dances, skipping along the block and every step it takes strikes a random explosion in a random location, some hitting nothing, others being blocked by Lulu's powerful barriers. One hits near the balcony where the well-dressed man and the rabbit woman were standing, leaving rubble and two long-range fighters onto the ground where they have less of an advantage.

It's dusty and Donald's fireworks sprinkle the air in bright colors that combat the sound of bombs to the point that Aqua has a hard time following Kefka.

She tries but a lot of her attacks end up missing because of Kefka's erratic movements. She has to rely on widespread attacks, which drain her and she takes deep breaths in between to keep herself going.

Sometimes when Kefka runs, it attacks where it aims for, and sometimes it decides not to. It's hard to keep up.

Garnet slips by in all directions, her main concern is healing other people - with such sharp determination that she doesn't care whether Noctis is trying to protect her.

Just when Aqua thinks that Kefka doesn't see her, it attacks, and Garnet is flung straight into a wall, her protection crystal shattering.

"NO!" Noctis yells.

She slumps and doesn't bother to get up. She folds her arms around herself, waiting for the next hit, and Aqua summons another trail of ice to get there faster (faster, faster). She can't let this happen on her watch.

At this point, Aqua is shielding a stupefied princess with her body, and Kefka will attack the both of them, already ready with a dark mass bubbling in its palm.

But it gets hit from behind by a massive… missile? It's forceful enough to actually make the clown stumble.

The droning sound of machinery draws near, a flying gummi ship coming close. Kefka laughs and everyone hurts, Aqua gripping Garnet tighter to quiet the squirming princess.

Kefka telepathically takes all six swords and glides them in a sweep, up right through the middle of the ship, cutting in half, and Riku vaults out of the captain's seat, rolling off a roof and landing with a huge thud right next to Aqua and Garnet.

"Just in time," Riku says, summoning his new Keyblade. It's heavy and massive for his size.

Garnet snaps out of her stupor, heaving because she's just escaped death. Her eyes flash anger, and she takes her shortstaff and holds it in the air. A column of light bursts through the cobblestone with a loud punch, shooting right into the sky with such a trembling force that Kefka is knocked away from them.

"Thank you, Aqua," Garnet gently says as she picks herself up. She casts another spell, encasing herself and Riku in crystal.

Even though he has his Keyblade ready, Riku gladly waits for her to finish like they've done this routine one too many times and it's the best they can do to keep an eye on each other.

But Riku doesn't wait for a command though, chasing as soon as his crystal stabilizes itself. It's Cloud that sprints by his side and gestures an order without saying anything. In sync, they hit both of Kefka's ankles with their massive weapons, tripping it to its knees.

Garnet is also on her knees, exhausted. Whatever attack she conjured, it drained her of power and Aqua slumps her over her back - Garnet may be short but she's heavy.

Some force of wind takes Aqua off her feet, and Noctis suddenly has his arm around the both of them, and they glide over the ground until he reaches his next waypoint and drops them right behind Lulu, who is frustrated, worried, and determined to keep Garnet behind her.

The look on Noctis' face is awful as he takes a glance at the chaos: Kefka easily standing up after being tripped, Cloud and Riku desperately attacking its shins, the ram since abandoned. Goofy and Sora attacking its ankles from behind, Lea acting like bait, the well-dressed man shooting his gun upwards and missing, the rabbit-woman shooting an arrow and hitting the clown straight in the eye, but it all does so little.

Noctis is tired - not just exhausted, but the kind of tired Aqua dealt with for years.

Not the kind when he's had enough and he's angry - the kind when he's had enough and it's time to give up.

And Aqua's had enough.

She charges forward with a yell, jabbing her Keyblade straight into the air. She summons a giant snowflake, spinning and flashing until it stabs Kefka right at the hip.

In reaction, Kefka commands its swords again, and throws them all at her with a huge swipe, and Aqua doesn't dodge. She blocks, each slash of a sword against a properly placed Keyblade. Kefka is strong, and Kefka is big, and these swords are twice her size - but none of them matter. She's been training with two large men her whole life, and Kefka doesn't compare to her Master's skill or Terra's ferocity.

"You're pissing me off!" she cries when she blocks the sixth sword.

It takes a lot out of her but they are not called special techniques without a good reason.

Her Master's unique chains, first encircling her in a glow of golden light, then lurching until they wrap around Kefka. At the touch, these chains burn Heartless - they've certainly burned her when the Master first taught them how to use it.

Success. Kefka's arms are twisted tightly against its torso, and one of the links wraps under its thigh and actually keeps the stupid thing on its knees, a perfect target for everyone else.

The air chills, fog rolling in and Aqua at first considers a new threat but it's actually a dragon shaped out of mist, bobbing in the air before landing on the roof. It blows steam onto the clown, carefully skipping allies like they are precious, leaving a clown squealing like an unoiled engine.

"That's my girl," says a breathy Lulu, who barely has the energy to stand up.

It has to be Rydia's summon. Such powerful magic, Aqua has so much to learn still.

But a dragon twice the size of Kefka still doesn't make a dent (what the stars is its skin made of?), and it soon dissipates, leaving a dumbfounded Aqua - but no one else seems surprised. They keep throwing attacks, and Aqua is getting drowsy. She can't hold onto the chains much longer.

Ah, Kefka's floating swords, she forgot about them. They strike against her chains. They'll break. The damn thing.

At this point, Aqua has nothing left to give and so much to lose.

"Noctis," she says, whipping around and holding him by the shoulder. "Can you fly me up?"

He has dirt on his face and defeat in his eyes, but why not? He grabs her by the waist and throws his dagger up in the sky. She flies, then he grabs her again, throws his dagger even higher, making her soar to heights she couldn't possibly jump to on her own.

Aqua lets herself float, aiming for the sword nearest her. She grabs the grip of the hilt. Her feet stomp the guard and she stands straight.

She ignores Noctis when he freaks and screams, "Don't touch those!"

The sword spins to knock her off but she has a direction she wants to go and this thing will obey.

Down she goes, the point of the sword cutting straight through the air with one very particular destination: in between Kefka's shoulder and clavicle.

She rips into it, metal creaking and gears popping apart until she hits a thud that she's sure is the ground. Like a needle, Kefka is pinned in place by its very own. Aqua's chains flickjer but still - it can't move.

Kefka can't turn its face well to get a full look at the Keyblade Master triumphantly standing on its shoulder, right in between its lost limb.

"Get off of there!"

"Don't touch that!"

"Are you nuts?"

Voices by some she recognizes and some she doesn't, she ignores them. Instead, she watches Kefka's eyes, hard on her. The smile on its face doesn't waver even though she can tell - she can feel - rage building.

Several gears choke right under its chin, still turning but only barely. It's so weak under the frame - most of its inner skeleton is just metal beams and a cloud of purple smoke for organs with a black balloon for a head, all wrapped in a tacky costume. For a Heartless, it cannot create a hard shadow body like all the others, so it made itself a hard shell instead.

Like that of a man with a soft ego, too short-sighted to see his his arrest and execution coming, the ghost of a crazy clown who never wanted to be weak again and has only proven himself so.

"It's not as fun like this."

Aqua studies the two gashes on its mask, burnt at the tips and curving outwards.

"Terra did that to you, didn't he?" She scoffs. Her hands are melting into the swords hilt - this isn't fully solid either, and she can feel Garnet's soft puffs of white light healing her fingers the longer she's touching it. "I've faced worse than you in the Realm of Darkness."

She summons her Master's Defender. In darkness, only light slices the way. Even though the Keyblade is blunt and rounded, the point is to reach the heart - and every darkened heart has a weakness to exploit, the very same insecurity that haunted its former human.

Aqua has felt it all with every Heartless she's defeated in the Realm: the grieving, the enraged, the depressed, the vengeful, the feral, the crazy.

She yells, the light off her Keyblade aiming straight for the neck - she promised to be a Wayfinder, and for darkness that simply means releasing them.

Her Keyblade sparks against the gears and she has to look away, and this force burns like steam but she keeps at it. She's not letting this thing dance away tonight.

Kefka screeches.

There are yells about abandoning her with the clown.

Sora yells back that they have to help her.

Riku agrees.

Lea (apprehensively) follows along.

And Aqua keeps doing what she's doing.

Kefka's shoulder budges the moment the purple smoke of its insides release like gas, into her face and up her nostrils. It's putrid and it burns behind her eyes. She coughs but she stands strong until her Keyblade gives way and suddenly there's another collapse and she's falling backwards with the arm.

Something large topples on itself as there's a shimmer in the air.

Cries of amazement. Hollers. Yells to get back as far as possible. Aqua can't tell, it's cloudy in dark purple and she can't see in the gas.

Two pairs of hands grab her by the shoulders and drag her, and there's so much coughing - her throat burns and she hears Riku telling Sora to hurry up and he coughs as well.

It's clear now, the gas slowly fading away and whatever is left of the clown slowly - slowly - topples away like it still wants to resist. First the entire right arm where she chopped it off, then the left, until the knees buckle and its head rolls forward and it all turns black and gets blown open by sparkles of light.

A large heart floats upward, the crowds watching in silence like it's a stunning show they respect too much to interrupt. They don't shift until it floats higher, somewhere high in the sky where Kingdom Hearts will eventually accept its arrival.

The crowd doesn't believe it at first even though it's as clear as day. Claps start, then sobs, then whoops, then hugs and kisses, and a melting of relief rolled into a platter of overused desperation that still needs a place to be served.

The fight is over, and the night is as bright as the dawn.

There's so much happiness but all Aqua feels is shivering - it's so cold all of a sudden and her teeth chatter.

Riku is on his hands and knees, hacking.

Sora is on his side, his hand rubbing a massive headache and he moans.

Donald and Goofy run to his side, the former giving him a lecture instead of congratulating all the accomplishments of the night, and Goofy swings Sora over his shoulder to carry him away.

Lea throws Riku's arm around his shoulders. "Come on, buddy," he says, patting Riku's back.

Cloud gently carries Aqua in his arms, whispering, "I wasn't expecting that. It's impressive."

But it hurts to swallow and she doesn't say anything back. He lowers her onto a stretcher, in between Riku and Sora, who each have their own.

Riku rolls his head. "I can't quite believe it. Stupid clown."

Sora makes a trembling thumbs-up. "We did it." It plops down.

Gasps and sobs make way near them, and Garnet wanders into view, unable to keep up with her smiling tears, her gloved fingers intertwining with Aqua's.

"It is done. It is over," she says.

"What is happening to me?" Aqua asks hoarsely.

"Oh, you've been poisoned, dear," Garnet says with a sweet smile, leaning over her. "Not to worry. Terra has made sure we've plenty of elixirs."

"Terra…"

It's just like him to always be there.

Even during treasure hunts, where he left clues through the forest to make it easier for her to find him. Like stepping stones on an ocean so she could walk across, and she follows.

Garnet melts into tears again, the cheers silencing her quiet sobs and Lulu is asking for her, gathering everyone except the poor souls on stretchers into a huge embrace.

Celebrations are just as chaotic, nothing like the stars.

The stars. Aqua gasps when she sees them, and it sends her into such a coughing fit that Cloud has to put an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth.

But there they are, dim due to the light pollution. They're her first since she's been freed, and she's forgotten how special she always thought of them - a light to pierce the darkness. Guides to give people directions. Reminders of hope. Wayfinders for all the dreams she's had.

They're beautiful.

#terraqua #aqua #terra #kh fanfic #kingdom hearts fanfiction #noctis lucis caelum #garnet til alexandros #rydia of mist #lulu final fantasy #kefka palazzo #riku #sora #MERRY CHRISTMAS I'M BACK FROM THE DEAD #my fic

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sanders-sides-fics · 5 years

Text

physics and why are you in my room

Here’s my fic from @spookyson-zine!

Warnings: Anxiety, Food Mentions, Eating, Possible Disordered Eating Related to Anxiety, Poor Coping Mechanisms

AO3

Masterlist

Words: ~1500

-Tumblr where’s my line break?-

To say that college was exactly what Virgil expected would be correct. Here he was, halfway through his second year and unable to make a single friend. He knew it was partially his fault. Virgil didn’t make many attempts to befriend anyone.

Most of the time his anxiety drove him to stay in his dorm or to seek refuge in one of the quieter sections of campus. The ones no one else went to.

He couldn’t stand to eat in front of others, with his mind screaming at him that people were staring every time he took a bite. So, he sat in the back, far from anyone else. Even then, his brain created wisps of people, watching, staring, judging.

The quietest, emptiest parts of the library weren’t safe for him. Every move, every turn of a page, was too loud. He was loud. Noisy. A nuisance to anyone attempting to get work done. He always fled within an hour of arriving, driven away by his paranoia.

His room was hardly a safe place, but it was the best he would get. His loud roommate, who never seemed to sleep or cease his renditions of Broadway and Disney, made sure of it. At first, Virgil tried to befriend him, but the singer was too much for him.

Virgil sighed as he approached his dorm. Classes were in full session and the never-ending work weighed down on him. He wanted nothing more than to collapse on his bed and sleep the semester away. Not that he could. Virgil worked too hard to get into college to allow himself to give up.

There was so much work to do, but maybe, Roman would take a hint and be quiet today.

Approaching their shared room, Virgil could hear no music. No Hamilton, no Mary Poppins, no Moana. Just silence. Roman was at a party? There was no other explanation. It was Friday night, so it made sense.

Virgil put his key in the door and let himself in. He glanced around the room and spotted his roommate, asleep on his beanbag chair. To this day, Virgil had no idea how Roman hid the large chair when the RAs did their random safety inspections. As long as Roman didn’t get caught and blame it on him, Virgil supposed it didn’t matter.

Seeing Roman asleep didn’t surprise him, he knew Roman had to sleep at some point. No, what surprised him were the two other men on the beanbag chair. One snuggled into Roman, asleep and the remaining sat on Roman’s other side, reading a physics book.

The man looked up to Virgil and, taking note of where he was, shut the textbook. He fixed his tie and sat up straighter on the beanbag.

“Salutations. I’m Logan Nox, Roman’s friend.”

“Virgil.”

Virgil stepped around the beanbag that took up much of the floor of their room and set his backpack on his desk. He could feel Logan’s eyes trained on him. He shuddered and did his best to ignore it. It was hard to, but soon enough Virgil sat down in his desk chair and pulled out his books.

“You take Physics 119?” Logan asked. “I do as well, though, I’ve never seen you before.”

“I, uh, sit in the back,” Virgil turned in his seat to face him.

“Perhaps you could join me, next class, I sit in the front row.”

Virgil doubted the professor would appreciate Virgil scrolling through his phone while he sat in the front. At least in the back, Virgil wasn’t a distraction to other students. If he sat in the front . . . everyone would be able to see him.

“It is understandable if you don’t wish to,” Logan told him.

“I’ll . . . get back to you on it.”

Virgil couldn’t think of a valid reason to turn it down, besides his fear, and that wasn’t something he wanted to share with one of Roman’s friends. If he could just avoid Logan in the lecture, things would be easier.

Logan nodded his head, “Of course. I didn’t mean to impose.”

Beside Logan, Roman shifted in his sleep and slung an arm around Logan. He mumbled about a dragon and a witch before pulling Logan closer and settling back down. Logan let out an amused huff of air.

Virgil turned back around and began to work.

“Looooo, don’t let the Dragon Witch get you,” Roman whined in his sleep.

Logan laughed quietly, “She won’t, Roman. Sleep.”

Roman hummed and shifted on the beanbag, making the third man let out a quiet huff as he readjusted in his spot.

On Monday, Virgil managed to avoid Logan in their physics lecture. It wasn’t hard. Virgil almost always came a minute before the lecture started and most seats were taken by then. He took a seat in the back, the most-empty section. If Virgil had wanted to sit with Logan, he wouldn’t have anyways. There was no way he’d draw attention to himself by walking all the way to the front of the lecture hall.

Trying to pay attention, Virgil put his phone facing down on his lap. The “desk” on the seat wasn’t big enough and Virgil already had a hard time writing on it, since he was left-handed. It didn’t take long for the lecture to start and for him to slowly grab his phone and begin scroll through Tumblr.

So much for paying attention.

The lecture went by fast. Virgil mindlessly wrote down the notes while he played on his phone. At the end of class, he shoved his notebook into his bag. Physics felt like a waste of an hour, given that he sucked at math and it had nothing to do with his major.

At least the lecture let out in time for him to eat lunch before the rush. He’d memorized the times the dining halls were busiest and if he left now, he’d be able to eat and leave before the lunch rush started. He hated eating while the dining halls were busy and specifically structured his schedule around the times he knew they wouldn’t be.

“Virgil!”

Virgil tensed at the call of his name and stopped putting on his backpack. He looked up to see Logan walking swiftly from the front of the lecture hall. Virgil debated running but decided against it. It wouldn’t do much when Logan was friends with his roommate. Running would only intensify the confrontation when it inevitably happened.

He set his backpack back down and waited for Logan to get to him. It didn’t take long.

“Hi, I, uh, came late.”

“There is no reason to lie, Virgil. However, I wanted to extend an offer to eat lunch with Roman, Patton, and I. We normally eat now, when I get out from this lecture.”

Virgil bit his lip. He wasn’t sure why Logan would make the offer after acknowledging Virgil’s refusal of his last one.

“Roman relayed a desire to know you better. And Patton’s . . . Patton.”

Virgil’s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t thought his roommate cared much for him at all. In their brief talks, Roman overwhelmed him and Virgil pushed him away. And after a while, Roman stopped trying to have those talks, choosing to focus on the two other friends he met.

Should he go? Virgil wasn’t sure. He managed to get through the last semester awkwardly slipping in and out of his shared room but had another entire semester before him. Attempting a friendship with Roman and his friends could improve the situation, make him for once comfortable in his own room.

But it could make Virgil’s life much worse. Rather than ignoring Virgil, or the occasional greeting from Roman, their interactions could turn to hatred. Roman had the power to make Virgil’s existence a nightmare if things turned sour.

Virgil knew he had no reason to worry about that. Roman never purposefully tried to hurt him, even if his constant noise was overwhelming. Not that the knowledge stopped his mind from running in circles, weaving together scenarios in which Roman did try.

Although, if Virgil never tried, neither outcome from attempting to befriend Roman again would matter. And Virgil would slip into his junior year, unnoticed, friendless, just as he had this year.

“I-I’ll come,” Virgil blurted out before he could talk himself out of it. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

“Are you uncomfortable going? There’s no need to agree, if it causes distress.”

“It’s fine. I was going there anyway, Logan.”

Virgil shifted in his seat, anxious thoughts coiling his stomach too much for him to eat. The familiar fear of judgment breathed down his neck, only now the people around weren’t made up.

He picked at his salad and glanced around the table. Virgil was sure he’d catch some hint of disgust, something that showed he messed up or was unwanted. Yet, there was none.

Across from Virgil, Roman was animatedly telling Patton a story, waving a fork around in the air to mimic a sword. Patton listened attentively, eating a breadstick from the dining hall’s pizzeria. Logan looked on fondly from behind the book he was pretending to read.

No disgust.

Virgil took a breath and allowed himself to relax the slightest. He stabbed a tomato with his fork and brought it to his mouth as his appetite started to return. Maybe he could do this after all. If anyone noticed him begin to eat, they didn’t say so.

General Tags:

@ahoardofsides

@peanut0303

@iris-sanders-athena

@evilmuffin

#my fics #Virgil Sanders #Sanders Sides #Logan Sanders #Roman Sanders #Patton Sanders #College au #Disordered Eating tw #Food mentions #Food tw #anxiety tw

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lesboinspace · 5 years

Text

AtLA Zine Piece

This was written for @atlazine :D I was assigned Air so I wrote this focusing on Aang, but also added as many characters who’ve impacted him as I could~ Look out for leftover sales!

A Hero’s Love

Word Count: 1,998

Rating: G

Summary: About a decade since awakening from his snow globe, Aang prepares himself for his most pressing challenge yet: summoning the courage to propose to the most incredible person he's ever met. With the help of many old friends, Aang will do just that without looking too much like a babbling, love-stricken fool.

Aang fell in love with Katara the moment their eyes met. Of course, he hadn’t known to correlate such awe with newfound love right away, but even as a child he could sense how the waterbender left a mark on him within moments of occupying the same space. The girl's gaze had been full of concern and curiosity, her aura demanding the younger boy's attention even while his chilled mind was rebooting after spending a century as a popsicle.

She was, and still is, the most beautiful soul he's ever encountered. That day, as Katara’s ocean-esque eyes collided with Aang's cloudy greys, he knew she was special. Years later, Aang's feelings for Katara haven't dimmed, only intensified with each second he shared at her side. Now, blossoming into an adult, the Avatar was set on acting out what was once mere fantasy to him when he was young: asking his beloved to spend the rest of her days with him.

But before doing so, Aang wished to spread word of this decision and, consequently, the joy that comes with it. Aang would finally propose to the woman that had saved his life and stolen his heart while spreading the jittery excitement he feels with those who've supported him along the way. Eager to share, the Avatar had soared through the skies once again, saddled on Appa's warm back with Momo perched on his shoulder.

First on Aang's journey had been Guru Pathik. This may seem strange, as the wise man had been the one who previously demanded Aang let go of Katara. However, it’s precisely because of this that the Avatar visited him before anyone else. After the war, Aang never had a chance to return to the guru and question the believed importance of severing ties.

Aang, though he struggled to admit it, harbored a little resentment for Pathik after he went against his teachings. He still respected the elder, but part of him was eager to face Pathik, to stand proud knowing that he made the better choice as a boy rather than abiding by the wise man's ruling. He was determined to marry the one Pathik told him to leave behind, so Aang was as spiteful as he could ever be. Despite this ire, Aang truly hoped that he and Pathik could reconcile over the most pleasant of news.

Upon landing, the two shared some niceties before Aang's desire to open up overwhelmed him. “I’m going to marry her, you know. If I’d listened to you, she would’ve died.” Aang could barely look at the guru when he said this, mixed feelings of avoided grief and desperation swirling about his mind. Pathik wasn’t blind to this, and quickly sat the Avatar down as he began emptying his thoughts.

“Connections to others limit our ability to prosper. Any ties to this world and its people weaken our chance to explore the strength laying dormant within.” Aang did his best to sit still and listen, but he couldn’t cease the curling of his toes and twitching nose. He’d waited a long time to hear Pathik’s explanation, but it was harder than expected to eye the man responsible for Katara’s near-death experience.

He was so restless that Aang was oblivious to Pathik’s similar discomfort. The elder shifted his hands from his knees to his calf over and over again, running his fingertips along the fabric as he spoke. He too struggled to hold eye contact with the man he hurt. “I didn't wish to harm you with my judgment. I thought I was doing what had to be done, both for you and the fate of us all. It seems that… I may have been wrong, in your case at least. I hope you can forgive me.”

With each word Aang’s tight clench of his fists loosened just as the viper’s grip on his heart receded. “I haven't a single doubt that you and your beloved will be very happy together. Cherish her and those you love, young man.” Both men’s gazes steadily rose, meeting for the first time since Pathik began illustrating his convictions that were left wrongly unspoken for years. The guru smiled at Aang, taking in all that the Avatar had become without him.

“Your ties to them seem to make you stronger. I'm sure dear Gyatso would agree.” The conversation dissipated any lingering frustration in Aang's heart, unaware that so much had existed until Pathik’s sincere admission of regret. Aang pulled the elder into a hug when he initially intended to part ways after a stiff, procedural bow. He experienced an unexpected ease wash over him, a tension in his stomach unraveling once his reconnection with the elder appeased his perturbed psyche.

Driven by the gratifying experience, Aang immediately met up with another man from his past— though undeniable wisdom and age is all that connects the two elders. King Bumi jumped on Aang upon his arrival, and the two puffed out giddy, exhausted breaths. The longtime friends discussed the good old days before Aang announced he was planning to propose.

The king was so ecstatic that he moved to tackle him again. However, the Avatar was ready the second time around—though just barely pivoting away. Nevertheless, the king was undeterred. For several minutes he continued to leap at Aang, who somehow managed to stay untouched. He was out of breath until Bumi came to a sudden halt and offered some sort of approving nod, like their game of cat and mouse equated to something far beyond Aang's comprehension.

With that, Bumi resumed his full height and rubbed Aang's forehead as if he were a fortune teller prodding his crystal ball for answers. The Avatar merely stood in silence, holding in a snort while he waited for his friend to finish his inner analysis. “You've grown so much, yet your spirit has remained passionate and humble. You'd be surprised how often power corrupts. You're still the friend I made all those years ago, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm sure that spunky waterbender gal feels the same.”

Aang nearly teared up at the sentiment. Just as he placed a hand on Bumi’s shoulder, the elder grinned before slamming the unsuspecting Avatar onto his back. The two friends continued to run about for hours until Aang insisted for his own safety that they stop. With a tight hug that both men groaned through, laughing through the glorious agony, the king and the Avatar parted ways.

Aang set out to the Southern Water Tribe to meet with the last wise man on his list: Hakoda. The surprise visit prompted Katara’s father to suspect exactly what the Avatar wished to discuss. He ushered Aang into his home, seeking privacy for the topic. “If you’re here to ask for my approval in marrying my daughter, do know that it’s not necessary; Katara is a grown woman who doesn’t need her father cradling her, but I appreciate your sentiment nonetheless.”

Hakoda’s shoulders shook as he emitted a low chuckle at Aang’s wide eyes and tense frame. “Come now, don’t look so embarrassed. Why else would you be here? I don’t suppose you plan to confess your feelings to my son and marry him instead?” The Avatar smiled sheepishly and rubbed his neck, joining Hakoda in laughter.

Just as the men made earnest, understanding eye contact, an ear-shattering scream disturbed the moment. Sokka barged in, gaping like the recent catch of fish balanced on his back. “You’re finally going to do it? Okay, so when are you planning on asking, exactly? Oh, and where? How? I have a million questions, man! Or, wait, I guess I can call you brother now, huh?” His babbling was met with blank stares which quickly melted into bright smiles. The men spoke of the future until nightfall, and Aang said his goodbyes, his soul satisfied at the reciprocated excitement from his closest companions.

Each meeting had left the Avatar with a newfound clarity, and he now feels ready to propose to Katara. Knowing that he and Katara would appreciate the hijinks of it now that time and fear have passed, Aang brings Katara to Ember Island after requesting its theater group to put on the same reenactment of their journeys solely for the couple. As expected, Aang and Katara laugh throughout the entire production.

Aang admires the waterbender’s uncontrollable chuckles and glistening eyes, growing eager for the play to end so he can propose. Once the curtains fall, the couple clap and cheer before Aang tugs Katara out of her seat, guiding her to the beach. The two gaze in silence at the shimmering waters, both sneaking not so subtle glances at each other for a marvelous eternity. Aang almost hates that he has to break their trance for any reason at all, but he just can’t wait any longer—not with how beautifully illuminated she is under the moonlight.

“Katara, there’s something that I want to ask you. The thing is, uh, you see…”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Hang on, let me get through this,” Aang holds up a palm while rubbing his temple with the other, forehead creasing. The Avatar curtains his eyes, vacuuming up oxygen through his nostrils as if he’s never had any fill his lungs before. “Okay, so when two people love each other very much—”

His hands retract to his center, fingers spreading out and motioning to the air. Aang continues the anxious spasming of his limbs until Katara's words process in his overloading mind. “Wait, what? How did… I mean, who told you?”

“You shouldn’t have trusted Sokka. That goof is terrible at keeping secrets, especially from me.” An airy chuckle tumbles out of the waterbender, recalling the event from just a few nights ago, “I barely looked at the guy before he broke down into gibberish, going from formal venues to invitations or something. All it took was a few seconds of hard eye contact for him to snitch every last detail… and then some. I know way too much about Sokka's love for Suki now, it's kind of disturbing. I'll spare you the trauma.”

With a sigh, Aang smacks the center of his arrow, though his taut expression is quick to dissipate. He shrugs his shoulders, chalking up the reveal to one of Sokka's many charming moments. “Figures. I didn’t even tell him since I was sure he would blab. He was eavesdropping when I was talking to your—um, never mind.” The two share a laugh, but Aang’s nervous rocking on his heels silences both of them. “So, you really mean it? You'll… marry me?”

Katara’s smile stretches further as the Avatar eyes her from under his dark lashes. “Of course, sweetie. If I’d never met you, there’s no way I would’ve discovered half of what I’m capable of. I was able to become strong like my mother wanted me to be, and I even got to help save the world with the Avatar himself. Now, I’m—” She pauses her spiel when Aang’s head tilts to the side, though roses seem to bloom within his cheeks as they burn red. “Okay, okay, sorry. Enough about me.” Clearing her throat, Katara sets her hands on his shoulders. “What I’m trying to say is that you’re everything to me, Aang. I’d be honored to spend the rest of my life with you.”

His face bursting with color, Aang lowers his gaze “I’m the one who’s honored to be with you... I may have saved the world, but you, ya know, saved me and all. And not just from being a snow globe.”

“I know.”

With the promise made between them, Aang and Katara melt into each other’s arms. They seal this new bond with a kiss while a gentle breeze twirls through their bodies. It's almost as if the Air Nomads’ spirits were applauding their pupil, embracing the pair in gusts of caresses like the lovers are the heart of a hurricane.

#atla #zine piece #zine #katara x aang #avatar aang

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superhero--imagines · 3 years

Text

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here!

Etsy Store Here l Ko-Fi l Commission Info I Instagram I Zine

A/N: This is the last part to The miscommunication series, I hope you guys enjoy it ;) Also peep the last link to ‘Zine’ and stay tuned

This is weird.

You look up from your textbook at the scrawny boy across from you. The circles under his eyes look especially dark as the blue light from his tablet shines on his face.

Yeah, this situation is super weird.

You’re ashamed to admit it, but you’ve been avoiding Dick a little bit lately.

You’re still pleasant to him in class, and you see him at the study group sessions, but you don’t try to make the effort to see him in situations where it’s just the two of you.

You’re just not ready to see him with all these feelings brewing inside you.

So the last thing you wanted was to run into his little brother, especially when you purposefully went to another coffee shop across town just so you wouldn’t run into Dick.

Still, you’re surprised Tim chose to sit with you after ordering 4 shots of espresso over ice.

“The ice makes it cold so you can’t taste how bitter it is” he had told you when you looked at his drink with a skeptical expression.

Well, it’s not a problem, you think taking a sip of your chai tea. Tim seems like a quiet person, he’s only said a handful of words to you so far, he probably won’t even bring up -

“So are you and Dick fighting?” Tim asks without looking up and you choke on your tea.

“So you are fighting” he hums as his gaze trails from his tablet to you. He figured Dick was being paranoid, honestly, even Tim thought following you to the coffee shop and pretending that he just ran into you was overkill.

Man, he figured you were just in the middle of some misunderstanding. He’s usually right about these things. Tim’s not going to lie, it stings to know Dick was on the nose about this one.

“It’s not that we’re fighting,” because you both really aren’t, there’s only going to be a fight if he finds out how you feel and how uncomfortable your new feelings make him considering he already has someone he loves.

“I just don’t want to get between him-“

“And Nightwing?” Tim supplies for you and your eyes widen.

“You know?” Tim nods in response.

You think Tim is saying he knows his brother and Nightwing are dating.

Tim thinks that you found out Dick got reprimanded a few weeks ago because he was spotted chatting with you on your balcony. He was able to play it off as just a normal chat but he would be risking exposing you to every villain in Gotham if they ever found out your were someone important to him.

“Maybe you are-“ Tim hums. You feel like a lightning bolt has struck your spine. So Dick does know about your feelings - or at least suspects something.

“But that’s not exactly a bad thing” Tim finishes, and you raise an eyebrow. You wait for an explanation but Tim’s already turned back to his tablet, typing away.

You look at the city, buildings springing up like trees from the concrete, their jagged edges like the crooks of a mountain. Nothing’s really changed. Not the buildings, or the skyline, not the stars in the inky black void of outer space. Not the city that never seems to sleep, the idle chatter of cars and civilians always whirring in the distance.

The only thing that has seemed to change, is you.

“That smells good, is it green tea?”

Well, one other thing has changed. You find a smile twitching onto your mouth as you hand Nightwing the mug in your hands. He’s perched on the ledge of your balcony, legs swing against the bars.

You get anxious just watching him.

“I had a feeling you’d stop by, it’s cherry blossom green tea, I think you’ll like it.” It’s a naturally sweet tea, so he should find it suits his taste considering he seems to share the same disposition for sweet things as his boyfriend.

You know that encounter with Tim this morning was weird, but the fact that you’ve kind of become late-night tea and chat buddies with your love rival is even weirder.

Looks like you can’t even make friends in a normal way.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he grins taking a sip of the hot beverage with a satisfied smile. The hum he lets out afterward sends shivers down your spine. Geez, no wonders Dick has it so bad for him.

You wonder what kind of noises he makes when they’re together-

Nope. Nope. No. Nope. No.

That was too far, your imagination really needs to get a grip.

“So how are things with you and that guy you love?” You flinch at the mention, choosing to take an unusually long sip of tea right then.

“That good huh?” Nightwing snorts, and you sigh. You’re not going to tell him about the cryptic conversation you had with Tim, especially considering the fact that he doesn’t seem to support their relationship.

Dick feels a little frustrated, as he watches you avoid his eyes. The whole thing seems off like there’s something missing. So you don’t want to be seen with Dick Grayson, but you don’t mind midnight tea talk with Nightwing- and you tell Tim how you don’t want to get in between him and his superhero persona- and then you wave him over when you see he’s a rooftop over-

It just doesn’t make any sense.

And worst of all-you look so pretty standing there, even with that sad look on your face.

“Well you know what they say-“ you let out a dry laugh, “to get over someone, you have to get under someone else”

It’s just a joke - a bad joke, you’re helping it’ll ease the tension. You figure Nightwing will make a dumb joke or pun back, and this whole thing can be behind you when he says-

“Get under me then” you’re so taken aback but what he’s said you’re sure he must have heard wrong. But when you look away from the green tea in your mug to his face, that chiseled face is only a few inches away from your own.

Before you can open your mouth to ask what he’s doing so close to you, his lips are pressed over your own. His gloved fingers ghosting over your cheek, holding it so tenderly that the action sends shivers down your spine.

Dick pulls away, fingers retreating to his domino mask, he doesn’t want to confess to you as Nightwing he wants to do it as Dick-

When you slap him.

This has seriously been the worst day. Dick sighs as he turns the water faucet to his shower off, grabbing his towel from the rack.

First, he forgets his cell phone at home on a Monday afternoon, so he’s got nothing to do to pass the time while he patrols.

Then the girl he likes slaps him before running back into her apartment without another word, probably to go cry-

And finally, to make the perfect end to the perfect day Dick got caught in a spontaneous rainstorm, getting soaked to the bone on his way back home. He figured Gotham could wait for a few hours and decided to come home a little early.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if I catch a cold” he mumbles tying his robe around his waist, his hands moving the towel to dry his hair, stopping mid-motion when he hears several very urgent knocks.

Well, who could it be at this hour? He’s considering ignoring it, probably just one of his brothers wanting to use his shower, when he hears several more knocks.

“Geez Jason, the neighbors are going to complain” he hisses, as he clings open the door, fully expecting to see his younger brother drenched to the bone and creating a puddle in the middle of his apartment building's hallway.

And someone is standing in the middle of his apartment building's communal hallway, drenched to the bone and creating a puddle in the hallway. But it’s not Jason, it’s you.

He only pulls you inside his apartment, the door clicking behind you when you break down into tears.

“I-I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean to, I should have known better but- I didn’t think it would happen” The words are jilted by your tears and your chattering teeth. Did you run all the way here? Dick wonders as he starts using his slightly damp towel to dry your hair.

“I really didn’t want it, Dick, I promise I didn’t-“ you clasp his arm now jilting his movements. In the pandemonium, he completely forgot that you were the one that slapped him just a few hours ago, and now you’re the one apologizing for something?

“What are you talking about?” he sees your gulp hard, your eyes averted like a dog that realizes he’s accidentally snapped at his owner. And then, with clenched eyes and your hands balled into fists you shout:

“Nightwing kissed me!” Yeah, he knows, he was there. Kinda weird that you’re referring to him with his superhero persona. You look at him earnestly now- clasping both of his hands in yours.

“I promise I didn’t mean to make a pass at your boyfriend or steal him away from you.”

...

Huh?

You’re babbling about how ‘You could do so much better than a guy like that Dick’ and ‘if it was me- I would never do something like that’ when the flashbulb finally goes off over his head.

Oh.

Ohhhhhhhh. You think he’s dating Nightwing. This actually explains a lot.

“Here come with me” he grabs onto your numb wrist before you can answer, tugging you towards his bedroom. Your eyes staring into his robe-covered back.

Oh no, you can’t believe you didn’t realize it before.

Nightwing’s here isn’t he? That would answer why he hasn’t answered any of the texts you’ve sent him. Who would when they were busy having a romantic liaison with their lover. And obviously, he spun some different story for Dick, probably that you kissed him. And now you’re going to have to confront them both and pray that Dick believes you-

Only to your surprise, the bedroom is empty, and Dick’s fiddling around with something in his rather large wardrobe. Before you can ask what he’s doing he pulls out a suit-

It almost looks like a wet suit, with accents of blue amongst the sleek black- so he surfs? Is he showing off right now?

But then your eyes land on the bright blue symbol smack dab in the middle of the chest.

So Nightwing was here, and he did spin another story! You’re mentally preparing your best argument when you look into Dick’s baby blue eyes stare into your own, softening as they gaze warmly at you.

“(Y/N), I’m Nightwing”

...

(Y/N).exe is broken

Dick watches you gulp hard. Then he watches you slide past him, each step pronounced with a squeak, and step into his wardrobe before closing it from the inside.

“(Y/N)!”

“(Y/N)’s dead, so she can’t come to the phone anymore” Dick can practically feel the embarrassment radiate through the wardrobe door, and in spite of the situation, Dick laughs. He laughs so hard you actually swing open the door, crouched at the bottom of his wardrobe.

“It’s not funny Dick! Do you know how worried I was about you! I thought Bruce Wayne was homophobic and that you were leading some double life!” Dick only laughs harder at that. To be fair, he is leading a double life, just not the one you imagined he was.

“Well you’re not totally wrong,” he says between chuckles, sitting on the ground outside your wardrobe next to you. “I like guys and girls, but Bruce had it figured out before I even did,” he says with a shrug, mouth quirked up into a grin. His cheeks hold a rosy tinge, but somehow his red cheek is even brighter-

Ah, that’s the cheek you slapped.

Without thinking you reach out to him, your thumb caressing the swollen flesh. Dick doesn’t flinch away, relaxing into your touch.

“Sorry about that, I thought your boyfriend was cheating on you,” you say with a sheepish smile. Dick grins even wider.

“Would the response have been the same if you knew it was me?” There’s a hopeful glint in his eyes and you feel your heartbeat stutter.

Is he stupid?

If you knew it was Dick if you knew it was the boy you loved sitting on your balcony railing drinking tea with you all those times-

“Of course I wouldn’t have”

And Dick doesn’t wait another moment, leaning forward to catch your lips in his own.

This time you don’t slap him. Instead, you place both hands on his face and pull him in closer.

BONUS:

“So you’re Nightwing-“ you say, sitting cross-legged across from Dick in a marching bathrobe in his bed. He insisted you shower, he didn’t want you getting sick. You thought he was going to combust with how red he turned when you jokingly asked if he wanted to join you.

“And your Dad, Bruce, he’s Batman”

“That’s right” Dick nods.

“And you’re brothers, they’re the Red Hood, Robin, and Red Robin... respectively,”

Dick nods again.

“And Stephanie and Cass, they’re a part of this too, They’re both Batgirl” Dick nods, he tries to get some eye contact, but you’re firmly starting down at your hands.

“And your ex, Barbara Gordon, Commissioner Gordon’s daughter- she’s the original Batgirl.”

This must be pretty overwhelming, he had never realized what a robust mantle their extended family collectively carried. He’s about to offer you some comfort when your head snaps up-

“Do you think if I got all of them to autograph my textbook I could sell it and buy a new one”

Dick starts laughing.

“Seriously, there’s no one like you in the world”

#batman imagine #dc comics imagine #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #nightwing headcanon #nightwing imagine #nightwing fanfiction #superhero—imagines #dick miscommunication series

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