Snippet - Blog Posts

Snippet #6(part 2)

part 1

By @writingpromptsworld

The hero's heartbeat sped up, their eyes widening. Their child tapped on their shoulder from behind. "Who is it?"

The villain was looking around, taking a knife out of the knife holder and examining it closely. The hero gulped, they couldn't let their younger one see this. They turned around, and tried to muster up a smile.

"Stay here, okay? Don't make a noise, I've got this. You'll be fine, I promise." The hero said, but the teenager shook their head, not convinced at all. The hero put their hands on the other's one shoulders, and squeezed lightly. "Do you trust me?" They asked. The fourteen-year old nodded their head quickly.

"Of course, I do. But-."

"I'll be cautious, I promise. Just stay here, alright?" The hero questioned, and then threw a glance behind them. The other one nodded hesitantly and hero planted a kiss on their forehead before motioning for their child to go upstairs. The other one followed the hero's instructions and made it upstairs without a noise. The hero turned around.

The villain stood in front of them, inches away. "Oh. Hi, old friend." They murmured, voice low, their mouth stretched into a wide smile. The hero's stomach churned, their heart clenching and unclenching.

The hero stayed silent. The villain took a step forward. "Long time no see, huh?" They asked, their eyes glinting with the same excitement as they did back in their college days, but now, it was different. Everything was different.

The hero scoffed, glancing away, even though not wanting to. "Long time no see, indeed." They replied.

The villain raised their eyebrows. "How have you been?"

The hero frowned, the question making them visibly cringe. How had they been? Really? They were acting so normal, like two old friends meeting each other after a long time. But they weren't friends (or anything more for that matter) anymore, they were enemies. The villain looked at them expectantly for an answer.

"How have I been? Funny you ask that. Because I've been very well, unlike someone else." The hero tilted their head, lips pressed tightly. A challenge in their eyes.

The villain nodded solemnly, their head suddenly bowing down. "Of course not, I've been very well too."

"Is that so?" The hero questioned, taking a step closer. The pang in their chest tightening by every minute passing.

"Yes." The villain sighed. They lifted their head up, and the hero could make out the watery glint that shone from their eyes.

"Well, if you've had enough greeting me, then I advice you leave."

"Not yet. I want to talk to you-" Before the villain could even finish, sirens ran outside the hero's house. The hero's eyes widened. The villain looked at them as if they had betrayed them. The hero stood their confused. Who had called the police? The realization struck them when their child came running down the stairs.

The villain's eyes moved to the fourteen year-old and then back to meet the hero's eyes. It would be another few days before they could finally talk, like the villain wanted to.

The villain took their flee before the alarmed police could catch them.

Snippet #7

(Part-1)

“Soooooo…you need my help?” The villain questioned, smugness plastered on their face. The hero had come banging on their doors at 5 in the morning, disheveled. A number of thoughts had begun to form in their mind, at the sight of the hero but they had pressed them down, and let the hero in any way. Oh, how they had fallen for the other.

“Yes, you could say so, I guess.” The hero replied, glancing around from where they were sitting on the couch opposite the villain.

"Oh, and why would I help you? What's in it for me?" The villain asked, their eyes glinting with mischief one could almost miss, but the hero saw it more clearly than ever.

Originally, the hero hadn't intended to come to the villain and beg for help. But, when the superhero told them that 'there was nothing they could do except, go to the villain for help if they wanted to take down the supervillain',they were forced to show up at the other's doorstep. They sighed and then inhaled the coffee smell that was getting stronger with every passing second. They gazed at the villain's cup, brown liquid omitting hot air into the room.

"Well, there is less competition for you when -if- we defeat the supervillain. What else would you want?" The hero explained, steadily. They suppressed the urge to yawn, as the villain sipped their coffee calmly. Cursing internally to the superhero, they waited for the villain's answer.

"While you're quite right, that there would be less competition for me. There would, however, inevitably be more enemies as well. So, my point is, I want something that would promise me a satisfactory future." The villain grinned, finishing. They put down their cup and watched the hero with anticipating eyes. For a minute, the hero stayed silent. The silence felt immense while the birds sang outside in the trees.

"And, what is that?" The hero pronounced, hesitantly, an annoyed edge lacing through their words. The villain was testing their patience on this awful morning, and they were not up for it. They should have just told the superhero to meet the villain themself, they thought. But, then again, the superhero gave them the orders, not the other way around.

"I want you to make a deal with me, that in the future, you will protect me from my dear enemies, as well as share your little secretive missions that are beneficial to me." The villain declared, confident with what they just proposed. The hero deflated. This was not what they expected, they expected something like a million dollars or entry to the city's security system. But this, this was very unpredicted.

"I get the mission part, but why would you want my protection? I mean, come on, you're the biggest criminal in the city, no one would dare to take you in a fight." The hero wondered, a bit confused. The room was quite dark, with little to no light. They could barely make out the villain's silhouette.

"Well, speak for yourself, sweetheart. You're one of the biggest and the most famous heroes of the city, of course, you'd be able to protect me if you wanted to. Every villain knows how honored you are for your missions. Some would go as far as to say they admire you, but that's beside the p-,"

"Do you admire me?" The hero interrupted, sudden curiosity making its way to them.

"I-, what?" The villain frowned, dumbfounded.

"I said, do you admire me?" The hero repeated, tilting their head. Honestly, what was going on with them? Why did they want to know? They should be finishing this ASAP and getting to their fucking bed to get a wink of sleep, they haven't slept in the last 48 hours for god's sake. But, here they were, asking the villain ridiculous questions.

"I mean, sure. Yeah." The villain said, shrugging. They picked up their coffee and started taking little sips of it. For some reason, they had begun to feel hot. This was so unexpectant of the hero, for they were always so professional. This was anything but professional, from what they could tell. And, perhaps, it was true. They always did admire the hero, just like they admired their dad, who was the superhero.

Snippet #5

"Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. All you are is, pathetic." The villain hushed, the words getting carried into the darkness of nothing but a singular light coming from the window on his left. Silence.

The hero scoffed and then half-laughed, "At least, I'm not a loser who the world is behind." His hands itched against the ropes that held him together. They weren't too tight, if he wished, he could untie himself and run away. But, he wanted to spend some more time with the villain, something he shouldn't be doing on his mission. Inappropriate. Who could blame him though? The villain's tactics to gain his attention were too cute.

"Oh come on, darling. We both know you're jealous of me because I'm more famous than you." The villain said, with an almost childish smile on his face. The hero sighed.

"Hmm, what can I say? Of course, I'd be jealous of such a pretty face." The hero let on, grinning. The blush that crept on the villain's face, was worth everything. Widened eyes stared back at him in amusement. He wasn't normally the one to flirt, but today somehow felt different. A gained confidence, a crush to make blush. The villain smirked, after regaining his composure.

"You're not so bad yourself, Gorgeous." The villain said back, eyes gleaming with excitement. And, now it was time for the hero to blush as his body ran with adrenaline, warmness flooding through. His heart raced. He felt himself untying the ropes, and standing up. The villain raised his eyebrows, not moving. The hero walked towards the villain and handed him the rope.

"Try harder next time, sweetheart." The hero whispered in the villain's ear, who was standing there, stunned. And, before he could even react, the hero took off running. The villain cursed under his breath and ran after him.

❌ Not a prompt ❌

Snippet #1

“Oops, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spill your coffee Mist-…” the hero trailed off, his eyes locking with a familiar face. There stood the villain, frozen in place. “What are you doing here?” The hero asked, bringing back his voice that was abruptly cut off midway.

“I could ask the same. This is my area, so what are you doing here?” The villain threw back. The barista behind the counter looked between them. The hero sensed it, and was glad that the villain wore a mask all the time so no one would be able to recognize him.

The hero quickly apologized to the barista, ignoring the villain’s eyes on him. He picked up some tissues and cleaning the floor. The drink had only spilled a little, so it didn’t take long to wipe it. He then grabbed the villain by his arm, and took him outside the cafe. The villain followed him with both of his eyebrows shot up.

“Since when was this your area? And, anyway it doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t be roaming around in a place like a cafe, you can get caught. You don’t want that, do you?” The hero questioned, looking around. His lips pressed together in a firm line.

“Now, why would you care if I get caught, hmm?” The villain shot back, suddenly appearing smug. He carefully pushed the hero backwards to the wall. “Unless, of course, you fear that you’ll miss me if they take me away.” He murmured, inching his face slowly near the hero’s.

The hero gave a grin, “Exactly, I’d miss you too much if they take you away from me. I would miss your face, your lips, your…” His eyes tracked down, making the villain widen his eyes and face, flush.

❌Not a prompt❌

Here is a small piece of chapter two of my fic that i have talked about before,, it might not stay in the final draft, idk, but i like it!

Right now the name of the fic is 'Is It Cold Outside?' but it might change at some point.

Todoroki Enji, most commonly known as the Number Two Hero; Endeavour, was a perfect and beloved hero. To civilians, maybe. To kids whose parents told stories of great heroes, probably. But, if you asked his family, you would get vastly different answers.

Todoroki Touya loved his father. Admired him with all of his being. He wanted to be exactly like him when he grew up. He was the eldest of four, and so, it was his responsibility to look after his siblings. But, in his heart was a dark and cold feeling that screamed at him everyday.

For that second time stopped. Their eyes meeting in an everlasting moment. Breathing slowed as those pairs of brown eyes met each other for that infinite moment. Love at first sight may not exist, but for that moment those two strangers felt a magic. And cruel faith must be for their paths were never to cross again.

Me, my mind, and sad thoughts

~~PROPERTY OF RAY SMITH~~

Memories are the foundation of what we base our perception of reality and even our own selves off of, and those memories ultimately make up who we are and how we interact with our external world. Recently, I feel that I've been forgetting many of mine. You always expect that when you forget something like a major memory, you can feel that something is missing. I've learned that often times you don't even notice you're forgetting something until something comes up to suggest that you should know what it is, but you simply don't.

Like waking up in a bedroom you don't recognise after a night out of drinking. You can remember going out to the bar with your friends, you can remember talking and laughing, and you remember this person you didn't know coming and talking to you. You know you keep drinking with them, but you don't actually remember much past that point. You can assume you slept with whoever you were talking to before your memory runs a blank, but you don't know for certain.

Next comes what I tend to think of as the most terrifying part of the process.

Later in the day you talk to the friends you went out with again, and they fill in some blanks for you. You now know you actually went to a hotel with someone else who wore an outfit absolutely blindingly neon orange, definitely not the person you remember talking to. You look through your phone, checking your camera roll and texts. You see a couple videos of yourself very drunkenly dancing with your friends and someone wearing neon orange, but there's always too much movement and poor lighting for you to recognize a their face. You also see some texts from an unknown number talking about how wild last night was, and how they are they ran into you. Based on all the information you collected, you assume this unknown number is the person who was wearing neon orange, the two of went back to the hotel and slept together, and they left before you woke up.

When you retell this story in the future you say that you were talking to this really cool person who you got bored of after 10 minutes before your friends, being the saviors they are, dragged you away from them and you all started dancing. It didn't take long after that for this really attractive person with admittedly bad clothing taste started dancing with you. One thing lead to another and you ended up sleeping with them in the hotel, giving them your number before they left.

The actual events of that night looked more like this: The person you remember talking to got wine spilt on them and left the bar in a huff. Shortly after your friends dragged you up and you all started dancing. Next, you see your brothers ex in the bar, and drag them up to start dancing too (you had always liked this ex). The two of you leave the bar together and stumble drunkenly through downtown as you talk about your brother. By pure bad luck your brother spots the two of you while driving, pulls over, astounded to see the two of you together. His ex says they have a hotel room booked, and your brother agrees to give his ex a ride there, and offer's you his couch to sleep on. By the time you get to the hotel your brother and the ex don't seem to be very broken up anymore. The ex gives you the room key, and you stay in their hotel room while your brother and the ex meant to go back to your brother's place first, but don't quite make it that far. The text you receive the next morning from an unknown number is your brother, who's number you never saved out of spite.

The human ability to completely forget memories without a trace and rewrite memories scares me more than death; more than life.

I am no author, but I need to get this written down. I don't want to forget who I am.

Last match of the season. The game rarely ever comes down to this. Max knows Charles is going to be in his head, always is, before a match. They play West Ham today. Fate isn't entirely in their hands, if Man City wins against Liverpool, they will be second. If they tie or lose, they win. He knows Charles hates that. He knows in his heart, Charles will win. Richmond will win.

"Will you be there?"

Max blinks the sleep out of his eyes, Max is always there. He has loved this sport before Charles. He has loved Richmond longer.

"Of course."

Why are you asking? hangs in the air. Charles tip toes around it, refolding the same shirt thrice. Today, Max will be patient. He tries to be, always. Charles rarely ever leaves him wanting. He gives and he gives without asking. For him, Max will wait. Always.

"If we don't-" his mouth clicks shut, Max wants to pull Charles back into the bed.

"If we don't win, will you still kiss me?"

Max frowns at him, "I will, of course, always kiss you."

"No." He shakes his head,

Then again before sitting at the foot of the bed.

"In the audience, at the railings." He stops the abuse on the shirt in his hand, resting it on Max's duvet covered feet, "If I come to you, will you kiss me? Even if we don't win."

*Snippet of “The Lives of Saints” Episode Two (I’m working on this instead of my speech homework, fun times.)

*No promises whether this will make the final draft 😊

ZLATAN: (staring intensely) They’re up to something. ZENIK, what of the cartographer’s progress?

NINA: She still won’t talk, sir. She needs more time.

ZLATAN: I gave you one task.

NINA: The brain is a complex system, especially given stress. Would you rather she experience a stroke instead?

ZLATAN: (rolls his eyes) I want her information by eighteen bells.

END of SNIPPET

*yall think I should use military time (24 hour) or 12 hour clock for time keeping?

Episode One AO3 Link:

Holy shit, this is incredible! Part 2 when???

First Rehearsal

DISCLAIMER: Full credit to the amazing @kittydemon9000 for this AU and the character of Puppeteer, they’re absolutely amazing so go send him some love. 

Context: Kai’s been kidnapped by the mysterious Puppeteer, a person with the ability to, with the aid of his magical floating gloves, create magic strings and puppet anything around… including people. And now, Kai’s become the unfortunate next doll in a line of many.

Okumaya devam et

I'm trying to find a story I might have read on Tumblr that goes like this:

A knight makes a deal with an ragged, eldritch looking "king" that sits on atop a throne somewhere and when he fulfills his end of the deal, to take the "king's" place, he realizes that he was the king all along and now has to make that same deal with his younger self.

Please link it if you know where to find it

Reblogging for more visibility

Please help me find this snippet I came across a few years ago:

A young knight finds an eldritch being sitting on a throne in a palace in ruins

He makes a deal with it

Several years later, he goes back to it to pay the price

The price turns out to be that he should take its place, or something like that. But he doesn't know that because it's cryptically phrased

Then he turns into an eldritch being and he feels tired to his bones

It turns out that he was the being all along and now he is somehow stuck in a time loop

The story ends with him making a deal with his younger self

Please help me find this snippet I came across a few years ago:

A young knight finds an eldritch being sitting on a throne in a palace in ruins

He makes a deal with it

Several years later, he goes back to it to pay the price

The price turns out to be that he should take its place, or something like that. But he doesn't know that because it's cryptically phrased

Then he turns into an eldritch being and he feels tired to his bones

It turns out that he was the being all along and now he is somehow stuck in a time loop

The story ends with him making a deal with his younger self

Infected (Leon Kennedy/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil

Pairings: Leon x Reader, Leon x You

Type: Snippet/Concept

Word Count: 3.4K

Snippet/Summary:

You had nothing; four metal walls in sixty-four square feet of space, a bed, a table with a single chair tucked underneath, and zero windows to consider having anything else.

You didn’t know how many days that you’d been here. There were clocks, old analogs dotting rooms that you’d been in before and presumably rooms that you hadn’t, but there was one in the evaluation room that had been stuck on 8:47 for a while, and you considered them a spot of decoration on otherwise empty walls. You didn’t necessarily trust their accuracy.

But you did trust that the sky fell down every day, and eventually it rose again.

You had nothing; four metal walls in sixty-four square feet of space, a bed, a table with a single chair tucked underneath, and zero windows to consider having anything else.

You didn’t know how many days that you’d been here. There were clocks, old analogs dotting rooms that you’d been in before and presumably rooms that you hadn’t, but there was one in the evaluation room that had been stuck on 8:47 for a while, and you considered them a spot of decoration on otherwise empty walls. You didn’t necessarily trust their accuracy.

But you did trust that the sky fell down every day, and eventually it rose again.

And you did trust in your knowledge that despite a lack of memory, Subject Four was an unconventional name considering that there weren’t any subjects One, Two, or Three. Not that you’d ever seen, nor heard–their existence was not something that would consistently evade your notice–and while your mind was more fog than thought most days, you surmised that you had a good idea of the comings and goings on this side of the wall, even if those on the inside hardly tiptoed around the idea of subtlety. 

On the other side of the wall, well, that was questionable. 

That was where most of the fog presided, submerging any memories or concepts that you may have had about anything on the outside of here. Sometimes you tried to let your mind wander to it, but then your head hurt and the fog thickened–despite that, the temptations were too much, breaking open just enough that sometimes you thought that you caught a glimpse of something inside. It gnawed at you—an ache at the back of your mind, a tantalizing mystery cloaked beneath the fog. 

You had seen glimpses of that world through the small sliver of memory that occasionally pierced through your haze. Blurred images of light cascading through trees, laughter mingled with wind, the scent of something sweet. With every fleeting memory, you would find yourself desperately reaching for it, only for your grasp to dissolve into nothing.

And every night, as you lay on the narrow cot, staring into that unyielding darkness, you grappled with the idea of you, and nothing more. If your mind’s rejection would let you hold on to what little memories there were left to have, if there was much to anything at all, perhaps it was best that you never broke through. 

You didn’t remember anyone, even if they would have bothered to come say goodbye.

Regardless, there was a subject four, and you found it extremely baffling that they called you that. 

That and their insistence on referring to you as it. It or Four, but never a name and never anything that made you feel even remotely human–rather, an object to be studied, analyzed, and recorded. The way they approached you, with their lab coats and clinical detachment… every interaction was a transaction of data, drained of empathy or compassion.

They’d ask you questions, but their words felt hollow, a rehearsed script designed to elicit responses they already anticipated. At first, you tried to answer, tried to make sense of their inquiries, but over time you had been reduced to mere nods or shakes of your head. Words held too much weight anymore without any kind of significant value.

Each day, when the sky fell and rose again, you awoke beneath the weight of uncertainty—clutching to the conviction that perhaps you could dig through the haze of your past and discover the truth of your existence. And in doing so, you would show them what it truly meant to be alive, to feel beyond a mere label.

Somewhere inside, you were still fierce with rebellion, forged by the simple desire to break free and carve out a world that had not been hushed into submission. Until then, you would remain, waiting for a moment to reclaim what had been stolen. Waiting, while that clock ticked on—stuck, maybe, but not broken. Not yet.

You may not have a concept of time or day, but during certain times of day, usually twice, close to wakefulness and close to sleep, the strong scent of sterile—not the sterilization that naturally stuck to this place, but a strong scent of disinfectant layered over and over on top of one another—you knew that they were coming to take you to the evaluation room, and you knew to stand facing the back wall without them having to tell you. 

You would stand there, arms tightly crossed over your chest, feeling the chill of the smooth metal pressing against your bare skin. The cold comforted you even as the anxiety coiled tightly in your stomach, a familiar twist that told you something unwanted was on its way. You could hear the shuffle of feet behind you, the muted whispers of the soldiers punctuating the sterile air like moths flitting about a flame.

The familiar scrape of the viewing window slid open, a grinding of concrete against metal, and the gruff voice of a man that you had “affectionately” referred to as Superior barked at you: “Don’t move!” Usually there was a curse or an insult involved somewhere. You entertained the idea that he was having a better day than normal.

Sterilization filed with them into the room, the familiar bland green and beige that made up their attire obscuring your vision—you often found yourself looking for something different, gloves or a pair of glasses if that would give you an idea as to the weather or the season, but everything in this side of the wall never changed.

At your back, guns were shoved into your space, and while they kept their distance, you didn’t blink. As you’d been taught, you clasped your hands behind you, watching their shadows mill about until you felt one grab your hands. 

It was always a sensation that felt similar to a jolt, a spark that made your hands twitch and made Superior’s men tense, but you didn’t retaliate and because you didn’t, neither did they, finishing the routine of clasping handcuffs around your wrists tighter than necessary, and giving the same treatment to your feet. The only part of them that you usually saw, their hands, extended in front of your face to clasp on a muzzle and pull it taut. 

On one of the first days that you’d come here, you’d almost made a joke that you wouldn’t bite, but something in you suspected that they wouldn’t find it very funny. While they had never put hands on you in a way that wasn’t necessary, you didn’t want to test that to any kind of extent. 

You heard Superior step aside, the scrape of his boots across the floor, but you didn’t turn around until the order to do so was bellowed in your ears, reverberating across the walls with a resounding echo that lingered for a few echoes afterwards. 

“Go!” Only when you felt the pressure of the guns off you did you finally rotate, slowly, catching faint glimpses of familiar faces and nothing else. They, with their own routine, immediately stepped behind you, forming a tight arc. Superior didn’t take the front, taking the point behind you instead.

You never felt a relief to stretch your legs, your thoughts always straying from the subtle ache to the rooms that you never got to see on the way to the evaluation room. Their doors were always closed, always quiet. If there were people that came and went, or the people in lab coats that were routinely rotated out, they did it at a time that you didn’t.

You’d tried to catch the eye of Superior multiple times, or of his men, only to be given a harsh, spoken reprimand. They never looked.

Those that did look, different observers on different days, seemed to have a keen sort of interest that felt different. 

The evaluation room, a stark contrast to the confines of your cell, was a sterile space flooded with fluorescent light, stripping away any semblance of warmth. It was there that you had been tested for the usual things: cognitive function, memory recall, emotional response. Each session ended with vague theorizations on their part, murmurs of hypotheses that you never listened to. They had you do the same tests, at varying levels of difficulty at varying levels of repetition. It all felt entirely irrelevant.

The questions felt even less so. 

How are you feeling today, Subject Four?

Did you sleep well? Did you have any dreams?

What are you thinking about?

They were difficult questions to answer; your mind always felt far away, a separate entity that was also a non-physical thing that you couldn’t see, you could feel, but you could never theoretically reach–if you jumped to grab it, it would always be just above your fingertips. The part of your mind that made the outside observations, and formed the questions, but also the part that had a concept of before. 

Besides, if you started asking your questions, you would never stop.

Where were you? 

Why did everyone smell like bleach?

What was your actual name?

You’d ask more important things, like what the weather was like outside, if you thought that they would answer. Somehow, that felt harder than asking anything else.

As you were deposited into a chair in the room without your restraints being removed, you found yourself sitting face to face with an observer that you could admit that you liked more than the rest. Dr. Halen always approached you with a kind of gentle curiosity that set her apart from the others–a soft voice and an enthusiasm that hadn’t yet waned after years of experience in her field; but she smelled like the rest, and that was enough for you to group them in the same category. Regardless, her presence did little to erase the chilling atmosphere of the evaluation room. You found it harder to respond to her than to the others. 

But sometimes she showed you pictures in books, miniscule things. Flowers in vases, trees, cloudy skies–things that you had no personal, clear picture of. If you hadn’t known before, if it was not a memory that you were sure existed somewhere in the back of your subconscious, you would argue that you’d never seen them at all. 

You liked to look though, even if like everything else, they stayed confined to here. 

“Subject Four?” Dr. Halen broke through your thoughts. “What are you thinking?”

You shifted slightly in your chair, the coarse fabric of the restraints rasping against your skin, a constant reminder of your confinement. Your heart stood completely still, even as thoughts collided within you. What were you supposed to say? 

A flicker of a memory crossed your mind during the pause, something warm, almost tactile. A glimmering lake? Was it a lake, or simply a reflection on the walls of your prison? You squashed the momentary spark, fearing its ephemeral nature. Instead, your gaze darted to Halen’s kind eyes, and you settled on the first response that came into focus, even if it felt hollow.

“Nothing,” you answered, voice muffled.

“It looks like something,” she went on, only appearing amused. “Remember, no thought is too insignificant. It’s a great step towards your recovery to know what you’re thinking, and the more complex, the better.”

Recovery? You wanted to ask. Recovery from what?

“You’ve been making great strides since you got here,” and yet she never mentioned how long ago that had been. You never risked crossing that social threshold to ask. “The other’s are beginning to not think so.” She then clarified. “Your other doctors. They think you’re degrading, but I think that we’ve made a lot of progress in understanding your condition.” You watched her manicured fingers pluck at the corner of her papers, her subtle ticks betraying her certainty.

Your condition? Were you sick?

“So if you have anything on your mind, I’d like you to share it with me,” it sounded somewhat like a plea. “Your thoughts have great value.”

You didn’t think so. You didn’t answer. 

Silence settled between the two of you, a beat and then another, with Dr. Halen watching with an anticipation that you didn’t share. You had nothing to say–you didn’t consider much about you complex. She cleared her throat, and you caught the faintest glint of the perspiration dotting her forehead, the way that her throat bobbed and she scratched at the bridge of her nose just underneath her glasses. Both hands gripped the edge of her clipboard and she shifted uneasily in her chair before she continued. Despite her outside demeanor, you noticed the obvious signs of anxiety that flitted around her.

“Let’s try something different,” she suggested. “Instead of thinking about you, let’s think about something… broader. How about the world outside this facility?”

You furrowed your brow, the mere mention of 'the world outside' sent you spiraling. The fog was thickening, wrapping around memories you could not reach. You almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it—how could you possibly think about a world you had no tangible connection to?

“I—” you started, your voice flat. The bloom of obscurity once again settled heavily in your chest.

“I know it’s hard, but if you could picture it—what would you want to see?”

You blinked at her, momentarily caught off guard. The question hung in the air like a challenge. What would you want to see? You were unsure how to answer without sounding foolish, without unraveling into that dark abyss you feared.

“Sunlight,” you answered, almost instinctively.

Her expression suddenly brightened. “Sunlight! What does it look like to you? What does it feel like?”

A flood of sensory memories washed over you—flickering shards of warmth across your skin, the gold and orange hues spilling lazily over lush, green grass, and a distant laughter you could not place. “Bright,” you finally replied, striving to grasp the sensations slipping through your fingers. “

Dr. Halen didn’t break eye contact; in fact, she leaned forward, nodding encouragingly. “Beautiful. And what would you do in that sunlight?”

“Run,” you said, the word escaping before you could contemplate its implications. “Far.”

A few scribbles of pen across paper and her smile broadened, as if you had let slip a treasure directly into her hands that she was eager to unwrap. “And where would you run to?”

“I don’t know...” You didn’t blink. “Just… away.”

“That's a wonderful start,” Dr. Halen continued, her voice now a delicate tone that seemed to cut gently through the lethargy clinging to you. “You’re envisioning a goal. Freedom can be more than just a word, it can become an image—a place.”

You glanced away. A place; a vast unknown beyond your world of metal confines. The world outside was nothing like the stark walls of the facility, yet it was beyond your grasp, swimming in a sea of abstraction.

“What does freedom mean to you?” She prodded gently, and her words felt like halting footsteps echoing through an empty corridor.

You searched the recesses of your mind. Colors spiraled through it—a canvas painted in shades of untethered joy and sorrow intertwined. “To not be… alone,” you finally admitted, and with those words, a tremor of vulnerability prickled down your spine.

Dr. Halen's demeanor softened further, and the walls around you seemed to shift slightly, the oppressiveness of isolation lifting ever so slightly. “You’re not alone, Subject Four. You have thoughts, desires, and you're beginning to articulate them. That’s a step towards something greater than what is here. Do you understand that?"

You blinked. The tension in your limbs released, replaced by a flicker of warmth that blossomed in the still void of your heart. An ember of humanity, perhaps? “I think I do,” you murmured, surprised by the admission.

“Wonderful,” she breathed. “Would you like to explore that more? What else do you desire?”

The words felt dangerous, yet they were laced with promise. You had long since forgotten the thrill of dreaming, of longing for what lay beyond the prison of metal walls. Slowly, a vision began to tease at the edges of your consciousness—the scents of fresh earth, the sounds of rustling leaves, the feel of grass beneath bare feet.

“I want… to feel alive,” you confessed.

“Then we will work on that, together,” she vowed. “Every thought you share brings us closer to understanding you—and understanding what you need.”

Time, you mused quietly—whether it were minutes or hours—had paused while you waded through the depths of perception, between clarity and hazy memories. And now, as the expanse of thought widened before you like an open sky, you found a tenuous pride in admitting your desire: a life unrestrained, with sunlight and freedom—where you could breathe without the oppressive weight of the unknown.

“Tell me more,” she urged softly, and you nodded apprehensively, ready to lift the barriers higher. A flame had sparked—a flicker of hope against the backdrop of uncertainty—and you refused to let it go. This time, you wouldn’t shy away. You would not be just Four, or it. You were a voice, a life wanting to be reclaimed.

“Sometimes it just…” You stopped, eyes flickering to the floor, the stark whiteness of it, sterile and bare, mocking you. “I don’t…” The memories surfacing threatened to drown you. “I don’t remember much.”

Dr. Halen’s eyes softened, and she tilted her head. “That’s alright, Subject Four. We can work on getting those memories back, bit by bit. Remember, it’s a process—”

“No,” you interrupted, almost too forcefully. “You don’t understand. What I mean is…I don’t even know if I had memories. Or what they were.”

Your voice broke the stillness. You could feel the air shift, the intimacy of the moment amplifying your vulnerability. For a heartbeat, the oppressive weight of observation faded, leaving behind only the raw truth of your words.

Dr. Halen paused, carefully gauging the tremor of your affirmation. There was an intensity to her gaze, her lips parted slightly, as though poised to offer something—reassurance, perhaps?

“Do you want to remember?” she asked.

You were taken aback by the question, a deluge of unprocessed emotions surging through you. Do you want to remember? You felt like a wisp trapped in fog, yearning for the warmth and clarity of sunlight but terrified of losing yourself in the process.

“Yes,” you breathed, the word escaping like a desperate prayer. “But I’m scared,” you admitted swiftly, the confession escaping before you could grasp its weight.

Dr. Halen nodded as though she welcomed your fear as an ally rather than a foe. “That’s alright, Four. Fear is part of it. But you’re not alone. We’re in this together.”

Together. The word resonated in those sterile walls, filling the void of your solitude with a fleeting sense of solidarity. For a moment, you dared to believe in the possibility that beyond these metal walls, beyond being labeled as just Four, there was something more waiting for you—a world yet to be uncovered, a name yet to be reclaimed.

“What was it like?” you asked suddenly, your voice shaking with anxious curiosity. “Before this? Before…”

Dr. Halen regarded you thoughtfully, a hint of something akin to nostalgia crossing her features. “It’s hard to say. Each experience is different. Some remember the warmth of sunlight, the laughter of friends, the comfort of home…” she trailed off, her voice softening.

Home. The word brushed against the fog, an ethereal whisper that sent a shiver of recognition through you.

“Do you…do you think I had a home?” you ventured, hesitantly.

A moment of silence enveloped the room. “I believe everyone has a home, Four,” Dr. Halen said, her voice steady. “And even if you can’t remember it right now, it’s still a part of you. We just have to uncover it.”

The idea felt like a flicker of light in the depths of your consciousness, illuminating fragments that almost seemed familiar, yet remained just out of reach. But for the first time, there was a thread, a promise that perhaps you could bridge the chasm between who you had been and who you could still become. Unshed tears threatened to surface, a burning behind your eyes, but they didn’t surface. 

And as Dr. Halen smiled gently, you locked onto that glimmer in her eyes—a promise, a spark despite whatever lay underneath that told you that she was still unsure about you somehow. You would try, despite the binding restraints of this place. You would fight against the fog and reach for the light, even when it felt impossibly distant. You were Four, yes, but you were also a whisper of memory, a yearning pulse of identity, waiting for the moment to reclaim it all.

“There’s a new visitor coming in a few days. Did you know that?” She asked after a moment, a wry little smile touching her lips. 

The mention of a new visitor pulled you from the tender threads of hope spun between you and Dr. Halen. The thought itself was absorbing, emitting a strange resonance that tugged at the edges of your foggy memories. Curiosity swirled within you, intermingling with apprehension as you grasped for more context than just fleeting thoughts of light and freedom.

“What do you mean, a visitor?” You asked, your voice steady, though you felt the undercurrent of uncertainty ripple through you.

Dr. Halen straightened, her manner still soft but with a hint of clinical seriousness that you recognized all too well. “He’s an outside consultant. His research aligns closely with your condition. They think he might bring a fresh perspective—new insights we might not have considered yet.” She paused, allowing the implications to settle. “His methods may differ from ours.”

Methods. The word echoed ominously in the sterile room. You shifted in your chair, the restraints a constant reminder of your fate as both an object of curiosity and an enigma. It felt disheartening to think that another stranger would now scrutinize you, your thoughts, your vague memories, poking around the sensitive fibers of your mind.

“Is he like the other observers?” You ventured, the fog in your head swirling with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. “Or is he… different?”

Dr. Halen’s gaze softened; she seemed to measure her words before speaking. “He has experience with similar cases like yours but on a more severe scale,” she replied, nodding gently. “He’s done a lot of good work, and he was recommended to us by a higher power. His presence might bring about unexpected changes, both in the study of your case and in the way we approach our methods going forward.”

“Unorthodox,” you echoed, the word rolling off your tongue like a pebble dropped into a still pond. You strained for confirmation in her eyes, hoping for some assurance that this visitor would offer something worthwhile.

“He’s not here to hurt you,” Dr. Halen continued, her tone reassuring, if slightly charged with apprehension too. “It’ll be just like our meetings right now. Think of it like getting a new observer, for example.”

You absorbed her words, even as their meaning danced around the frayed edges of your reality. You had learned to tread carefully in this place; new experiences were a double-edged sword, equally capable of forging paths of understanding or suffering. Who was this new person coming into your life, and what would their scrutiny unearth?

You thought of your fleeting memories—the sunlight, the laughter, the longing for freedom—and wondered if this visitor might help uncover more than just the confines of your mind. “What if he wants to know why I can’t remember?” You asked quietly. “What if he asks me things I can’t answer?”

“We’ll approach it one step at a time,” Dr. Halen urged, her voice steady like the spine of a well-worn book, binding pages of uncertainty. “This is part of the process and we’ll prepare for it together. Trust me, it’s a new experience for us, too.”

“Prepare?” you repeated, your brow furrowing. Uncertainty and fleeting optimism mingled within you like ghosts in a night sky, drifting ever nearer to confrontation.

“Yes,” Dr. Halen said decisively. “Based on his suggestions, there will be some changes with studying your case. You may find that it works out for the better compared to what you’re used to.”

You nodded slowly, though in truth, there was a war within you. The thought of preparing sent shivers through your spine; unease churned within you like the murky waters behind heavy rains. Yet, deep down, nestled beneath the tumult, there was a pulse—fragile but fierce—urging you to engage, to search for the truth that lay dormant within the confines of your mind.

“Do you think he’ll help me remember?” You asked, the question a hesitant whisper, yet holding the weight of something significant.

Dr. Halen regarded you thoughtfully. “I can’t guarantee what will happen. Each interaction is unpredictable. But if you remain open and willing to explore… who knows what may emerge?”

You looked away, thoughts wrestling with the walls of your confinement—the emptiness of the room, the sea of sterile white. Your identity, however nebulous, was something you yearned to unearth. You wanted to explore the edges of your past; you wanted sunlight, laughter, and the promise of feeling alive.

“Maybe,” you said slowly, your voice barely a whisper, “maybe I could try to remember.”

Dr. Halen smiled—a gentle curving of her lips that filled the room with warmth. “That’s the spirit, Subject Four.” There was a sense of solidarity in her affirmation, one that felt both strange and welcoming.

The fabric of your reality shifted ever so slightly; a glimmer flared in the midst of the fog, beckoning you to step closer. In preparing for a visitor whose motives remained nebulous at best, you felt a strange mingling of fear and exhilaration. Whispers of memory and identity lingered just at the periphery—perhaps he could help bridge the chasm you had been struggling against.

“And you think he can help me find…whatever it is I’ve lost?”

“I do,” she replied earnestly. “This is an opportunity, Subject Four. An opportunity to explore not just your memories, but the essence of what you are.”

“Then… I’ll be ready,” you affirmed, your voice gaining strength. The fog still clung heavily in your mind, but its grip felt less suffocating now, thinner like a delicate veil. “Ready to remember.”

Dr. Halen smiled again, and in that moment, you caught a glimpse of who you might become—a whisper of identity, stoked by desire and fueled by the flicker of hope. Perhaps together, you would uncover the life that lay buried beneath those heavy metal walls, rework the fragmented puzzle pieces of your existence into a picture that spoke not just of survival, but of the vibrant essence of living.

~~~~~

Leon S. Kennedy stepped off the transport, the metallic clang of the door reverberating in the sterile hallway that led to the facility's main wing. He’d been in enough labs and research facilities to recognize the scent of antiseptic mingling with the sterile ambiance—an overwhelming mix of clinical precision and the lingering undercurrent of something gone awry. He’d been assigned here on what was supposedly a straightforward evaluation of a subject with unusual cognitive impairments. The details were sparse, and he didn’t buy the official line that this was just another mission; it never was where the government was concerned.

Straightening his posture, he scanned the area. White, tile floors gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, and the walls revealed nothing—just stark metal panels, doors sealed tighter than a bank vault. Leon’s eyes narrowed as he considered his surroundings. He preferred his jobs to have a bit of a wildcard element, something chaotic enough to keep him engaged. But this? This felt more like a job for people in the office, people more attuned at talking in a scientific and clinical sense; he had more field experience, but behind the scenes, ultimately, figuring out the ‘what’ and the ‘why’ wasn’t his concern.

The facility staff were uncharacteristically quiet as they ushered him through a series of checkpoints, their glances betraying a mix of anxiety and curiosity. Leon wasn’t sure if they were worried about what he might discover or if they considered him a threat. He had received a brief on the way—something about a subject exhibiting unusual psychological symptoms. After the nightmare of Raccoon City and all the hell that followed, the idea of a mysterious test subject was enough to kindle skepticism deep within him. No one had bothered to fill him in on the particulars of Subject Four's condition—just the basic protocol: observe, record, and report back.

What kind of twisted science project was this? 

He adjusted the strap of his shoulder holster, the weight of his pistol reassuring. As he approached the heavily secured entrance, he was greeted by Dr. Halen, her demeanor professional but with an undercurrent of something unspoken.

"Agent Kennedy," she greeted him with a nod, motioning for him to follow. "Thank you for coming."

"Yeah, well, I'm curious what I'm getting myself into," Leon replied, folding his arms across his chest. He had learned a long time ago that curiosity and caution were often at odds in situations like this.

"You'll be meeting Subject Four," Dr. Halen explained as they walked through the sterile corridors. "The situation is… complex. But we believe your insight could be crucial."

"Complex in what way?" Leon asked, attempting to gauge her trustworthiness. He had pulled information from many sources, and they rarely painted a complete picture.

“Subject Four has been exhibiting significant memory loss, but there are signs of intelligence and emotional depth we didn't anticipate,” she said, her tone somewhat softer now. “We want to understand if this individual is capable of rehabilitation or if they pose a risk.”

He frowned at that. Rehabilitation? It sounded too much like a euphemism for something darker. The name had struck him as odd—in the line of work he had chosen, he had seen humanity stripped away from those subjected to unethical experiments; he’d seen how it could corrode the soul, leaving behind nothing more than shells of the individuals they once were. Empathy was something severely lacking in facilities like this.

The sounds of muffled voices reached them as they approached, and once inside, the room immediately engulfing him in stark, fluorescent light that made everything appear hyper-real–starkly lit, clinical, devoid of color. The table, the chairs, and the sterile instruments scattered about all blended into an intimidating array of clinical objects. Central to it all, however, was a solitary figure restrained yet sitting upright, facing away from him in a manner that suggested both submission and resilience. Leon took a deep breath as he approached it, disabling the safety on his Beretta for good measure. He wasn’t about to walk in unarmed, even if it was labeled as a “low-risk” operation.

Leon frowned as he took in the sight of Subject Four. Even without turning to face him, there was an air of defiance that bubbled just beneath the surface, the faintest hint that this wasn’t just a lifeless specimen in front of him. The figure held an energy—a yearning perhaps—that seemed to speak volumes. It haunted him as though their story had reached out and wrapped around his heart, igniting a sense of urgency.

"Subject Four, huh? Guess that makes me your official welcome committee," he said, his voice laced with a teasing nonchalance he often employed to mask the weight of a situation.

The figure craned their neck back to face him, revealing a pair of eyes that seemed to contain a universe of confusion and longing. The moment their gazes locked, an intensity surged between them—an unspoken understanding that this encounter, while charged with clinical detachment, held the potential for something more profound.

Leon took a step closer, his curiosity piqued. The restraints were a jarring reminder of the situation, yet he noticed the subtle way the subject held themselves; despite their confinement, there was an undeniable spark of resistance. "Mind if I ask for your name?" He ventured cautiously, aware of the layers of meaning hidden beneath a mere title or number.

Subject Four hesitated, the silence stretching out like a fragile thread. "I… I don’t remember my name," they admitted slowly, the words laced with melancholy and a hint of frustration. "They just call me Four."

The air in the evaluation room thickened, a gut instinct warning him that he was stepping into murky waters. Hia gut twisted anew as it brushed against their shoulder. A searing cold washed over him, and the contact sent a jolt through him, the frigid temperature radiating through his fingers like a warning bell. “What the hell?” He said, his voice rising in surprise as they recoiled from his touch, darkness weighing heavily around them.

The memory of the T-Virus haunted him, dredging up dark recollections associated with cold, lifeless beings devoid of humanity.

Leon's mind whirred, memories flooding back to the chaos of Raccoon City, where the line between human and infected had blurred into nothingness.

The instinct to aim his gun flickered to life, guiding him like a beacon through the disorienting haze around him. He leveled the Beretta steadily at Four's forehead, the metallic click echoing loudly in the sterile room.

"What are you?" He demanded, his voice low and commanding. The chaotic symphony of his emotions simmered beneath his calm surface.

Four's eyes widened with bewilderment, their hands gripping the edges of the chair, a cautious gesture that revealed no threat. Confusion etched across their features, deepening lines of vulnerability and desperation. “What do you mean? I—I don’t understand!”

Leon felt a pang of guilt at their fear, but he couldn’t shake the rising tide of anxiety that roiled within him. “You understand enough.” His voice was calm but steely, the weight of his justice felt. “You’re cold—you’re not breathing.” He strongly entertained the absence of a heartbeat but did not act on the decision to check.

“I’m normal!” Four protested, voice trembling, as though they could feel actual fear. “You don’t know me! I don’t remember! Please!”

As Leon maintained his unwavering stance, an inner turmoil twisted within him. There was something deeply unsettling about the disconnect between Four's turmoil and his instinctive distrust. He often found himself sifting through layers of deception, but what lay behind those quiet eyes felt distinct—a heart still struggling to hold on to its humanity amidst the storm.

Still cold, he continued to regard them with suspicion. “What’s wrong with you?” His voice softened against his will, as he searched for answers in the very depths of their gaze, a spark of humanity crossing the divide between them. “Do you have any idea what you are?”

Four blinked, the question hanging between them like a knife poised on a thread. “I’m me,” they replied slowly, a yearning of sorts hanging at the edge of their voice. “That’s all I know. I just want to remember… To understand who I am.”

The conviction in their plea stirred something in Leon. He exhaled slowly. The T-virus—his mind drew another dart of a thought—could have made this subject a ticking time bomb. They could pose a threat if left unmonitored, yet he weighed that against the inexplicable ache of compassion creeping into his chest. How could he condemn them for being an enigma when he himself was standing half past the shadows of guilt and regret?

“Tell me the truth. Have you been infected?” he interrogated sharply, the weapon still trained on their forehead. “This cold… it’s not natural.”

Four shook their head vehemently, eyes shimmering with unshed tears summoned by the weight of fear. "I don't know what you're talking about! I don’t know!” The desperation surged like tidal waves crashing against the shore. “I can’t remember anything! I don’t want to hurt anyone!”

Leon felt his grip on the Beretta loosen as the panic in their voice unveiled raw, protesting humanity. The longing in Four’s pleas—the need to discover oneself paralleled only by his instinct to protect innocents at any cost—pushed against his resolve.

“I don’t know what you are,” he said firmly, voice echoing with taut intensity. “But if you’re anything like what I’ve dealt with before…” He trailed off, glancing at their vulnerable form, eyes wide and full of confusion beneath the cold facade of steel.

Leon’s resolve wavered momentarily. They weren’t attacking; they were… scared. And despite the instinctual need to pull the trigger, he was forced to weigh the possibility of what lay beneath the surface—what those cold walls hid.

Gathering himself, he took a steadying breath, lowering his weapon slightly without breaking eye contact. “Just… tell me if you understand,” he added, his voice softer, tinged with urgency. 

His words lingered, hanging in the air thick with tension. Somewhere behind those eyes was a thread of humanity, a battle to be waged against whatever it was that had brought them to this place–whatever unnatural thing had gotten ahold of them. Leon’s instincts brimmed with trepidation, yet he found himself unwilling to sever that connection just yet.

“What’s your real name?” Leon asked, his heartbeat thrumming in time with the tension coiling around them. He kept his grip steady, the weight of the pistol somehow grounding him even as he faced this unknown quantity. There was life in their eyes despite the pallid skin that practically glowed against the white walls of the room.

They stared back at him with bewilderment, as if struggling to grasp the meaning behind his words. “I… don’t know. I’m just… Four.”

“Right,” he muttered, his mind racing. Not a great sign. The name they carried felt like a hollow shell, devoid of context. “You’ve got to tell me what you’re infected with, and why you’re here in the first place.”

Their brows knit together in frustration, and they shifted slightly in the chair as if trying to break free from the bonds that held them back. “Infected? I don’t… I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

Leon’s eyes wandered over them, absorbing the detail of their averted gaze, the way they seemed to retreat further into themselves. He felt his resolve wavering, something akin to sympathy threading through the hard edges of his training. “Look, I don’t want to shoot,” he murmured, voice low, trying to ease the raw edge of the moment. “But I need to make sure you can’t hurt anyone, including yourself.”

Leon’s heart ached with a rush of realization: this wasn’t just some T-Virus casualty. It made sense why he was suddenly involved, he supposed. He’d only hoped for a decrease in the workload after the shit-show involving Ashley Graham. “How long have you been here?”

Their brow furrowed again, and they seemed lost in the depths of their own thoughts. “I don’t know… time isn’t—”

“Of course it isn’t,” he interrupted firmly. “You don’t remember anything?”

“I remember… sunlight,” they whispered, a note of vulnerability creeping into their voice, a flicker of emotion that tore at him. “I’m still… alive,” they insisted, their voice gaining a firmness. “You don’t have to be afraid!”

The statement caught him off guard. Instincts met empathy, and for a flicker of a moment, Leon hesitated, the gun wavering slightly in his grip.

“Listen, we don’t know what you’re infected with—”

“I’m not infected,” they objected, and Leon could see the tendons in their neck strain slightly with their rising frustration–still eerily human. “You’re wrong. I don’t feel sick.”

Despite the unease, Leon couldn’t shake the sensation that this encounter transcended the simple, clinical analysis he had anticipated. He lowered the weapon, the Beretta's weight feeling suddenly onerous in his hand. “Look, I’m not your enemy, okay? But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth. The last thing I want is to be caught in the crossfire of whatever’s going on here.” He gestured towards the walls, as sterile and unyielding as the situation itself.

His skepticism hung in the air like an unwanted cloud, a sharp contrast to the vulnerability radiating from Subject Four. Leon was accustomed to dealing with dangerous situations, but this was different. Subject Four’s plea for understanding felt genuine, tinged with a mix of fear and desperation. He could sense their humanity struggling against the confines of a cold, clinical environment.

“I’m not your enemy,” Leon reiterated, his voice steady but softened, trying to pierce through the fog of uncertainty that enveloped both of them. “I just need to know what I’m working with. You seem… different from what I normally encounter.”

“Different how?” Four asked, their tone cautious. There was a flicker of defiance in their eyes, but it was layered beneath a shroud of confusion that mirrored his own feelings.

“Cold,” Leon replied simply. “Weirdly human. There's something… off. I don’t know what it is yet, but I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t exist. I just want to understand where you fit into this whole mess.”

Four looked deeply into his eyes, and for a moment, the fear and uncertainty faded from their gaze, replaced by a glimmer of understanding. “I don’t have all the answers,” they admitted quietly. “But I’ve been here for what feels like forever. They call me ‘Four,’ but it’s like I’ve been stripped of everything else that could define me.”

Stripped. The word resonated with Leon, tugging at the edges of those memories he’d fought to suppress. He thought back to Raccoon City, when countless lost their identities, trapped in their own nightmares. The fear of losing oneself—he understood that intimately.

“Do you remember anything else?” Leon pressed, striving for the clarity he so desperately sought. “Anything at all that could help us figure out what’s happening?”

“Just flashes,” Four replied, their brow furrowing as they sifted through the fragments of their mind. “I remember… sunlight and grass. Laughter, but it feels so distant. I can’t hold onto it; it slips through my fingers. Sometimes, I think I can hear voices whispering in the dark, but they’re gone before I can understand.”

Leon shifted his weight slightly, both intrigued and unsettled by their enigmatic memories. “And what else?”

Four hesitated, gathering their thoughts carefully. “It’s a longing, I suppose. A desire to connect with whatever was out there. But I feel trapped—trapped in this place, in this body that doesn’t feel like mine. I don’t know how to explain it, but the cold… it’s like a barrier between who I was and who I am now.”

That made sense. What didn’t make sense was why they weren’t immediately going for his throat; they didn’t even seem like they had the urge unless that was what the chemical bath was for when he first got here.

He weighed the words of Subject Four, their haunting recollection of sunlight and laughter mingling in a haze of confusion. He remained still, studying the figure restrained before him, unnervingly human yet inexplicably different. The cold still emanated from them, but the more they spoke, the more he felt the flicker of warmth.

A pang of something deeper settled within him as he pondered the implications—all the creatures affected by the T-virus were distinctly different. They didn’t articulate feelings, or fear, or loneliness; they acted upon instinct, pure and unyielding. Four seemed to convey the raw essence of humanity, even if clouded or coated in something alien.

This wasn’t the kind of mission he was accustomed to—interrogating test subjects with vague memories and existential struggles. The world he operated in was one fraught with danger, ambiguity, and moral dilemmas, but this? It felt different, like a cold weight he couldn’t shake, threading through every thought he had about the situation.

“What you’re experiencing… I can’t pretend to understand,” he finally said, voice low yet firm. “But if you’re not infected, then that changes things. But that also raises more questions.”

Four’s gaze bore into him, earnest and pleading. “I want to know who I am. I want to uncover the truth behind all this.” 

“Truth is—this isn’t a straightforward mission for me,” he admitted, feeling strangely vulnerable in the sterile room, the weight of his responsibility pressing down on him like an anchor. “I’ve dealt with things that have completely obliterated chances to understand things like this.”

Four nodded slowly, their features betraying a mix of disappointment and understanding. “I know. But I promise, I’m not what you’re afraid of. If you can just help me remember… If you can trust me even a little. They said that you deal with monsters all the time, but I’m not one.”

“Look,” he said, taking a step closer, the distance between them narrowing. “What I can do might not be enough, but I can try to help you.” Leon's voice bore a hint of determination mingled with reluctance; a slight crack in his steadfast façade. The world around them felt sterile with menace, the atmosphere thick with tension that made every breath, every movement tightly coiled with hesitation.

The resolve in their eyes seemed to solidify, and for the first time since he’d stepped into that sterile room, Leon felt the absolute insanity pulling at his conviction. 

What the hell had they gotten him into?

✂️Snippet #1

This is an unedited old draft for chapter one I had, but I’m not using it anymore so I might as well post it here :)

Magnus drew the string back, arrow pointed at the back of the beast’s neck. It lurked around, scanning the forest for any sign of life. It didn’t look up though, where Magnus was perched in the branches, waiting for the right moment to strike. It has to be a killing shot, the lessons of his grandmother rushed back. Many late evenings spent training in the yard behind their house, drilling lesson after lesson into him. It was lucky for him that she was so strict.

He released the arrow, the silver tip glinting in the sunlight through the leaves. It pierced the monster’s flesh, lodging itself deep enough in its neck to hit a pressure point. There was no scream or howl from the thing, only the whistle as the arrow whizzed toward its prey, and a low whine as the beast realized it was going to die.

Magnus jumped down from the tree. The killing always happened so fast, one slash of a sword or the whir of an arrow racing through the air. He watched as his prey flopped over, the grass underneath it wilting and turning a dull brown color. It was as if the life was sucked out of the earth where the monster stood.

“Be lucky you can’t be used for food.” He muttered. It made a low growl, like a threat, but the sound was more pathetic than threatening. He gripped the arrow, ripping it from the beast’s neck. Unlike an animal, the monster died fast, its body crumbling to ash.

Magnus quickly bent down, gathering a pinch of the ash before the wind blew it away. He put it into a small vile and stored it away in his pocket before leaving

Erin felt her blood pumping through her body as she tried to jog to the schooner. Her head was fuzzy, and all she could see was them. Her lungs filled with air she couldn’t breathe and she clutched her chest. Gunshots and cries rang out around her but she couldn’t hear them. Get to the ship, she thought. If you don’t get to the ship they're dead.

From on the roof, Jesper spotted her stunning towards the dock, and moved to pick off anyone that tried to attack her.

“There!” Jesper yelled, hoping someone would go help the Shadow. Wylan was the only one who heard him, and looked to see Erin getting closer. Sweat covered her face and it looked like she’d been crying. Erin clumsily pushed past Rotty, who was helping Wylan keep the shooters back.

She staggered over the ship, grabbing the ropes that kept them from floating off.

Untie the ropes, lift the anchor, fly the sails. She repeated it in her head like a mantra. Rope, Anchor, Sails.

She hadn’t touched a ship since… well since she came to Ketterdam. Her heart was pounding faster than Jesper could shoot, and she felt her stomach rise. Erin froze as she tried to lift the anchor, her hands touching the cold water.

I’m drowning. Where is the surface? I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe—

“I got it”

Rotty pulled the anchor up for her. His voice broke Erin out of her trance for the moment. She looked around, realizing everyone was on board and they had left the harbor. Matthias was the only one on deck, throwing up over the side.

Erin sank down to the floor of the ship, shutting her eyes. This is not the Cardea. This is not the Cardea. You will not drown, you will not drown. It took everything she had to stand back up, placing her feet on the railing and hoisting herself up the rope rungs to reach the sails. She gagged as she looked down. Even from his place on the deck, Rotty could tell she was trembling. He disappears below deck, looking for something.

The Shadow pulled the sails down and out, the boat picking up speed. It gave her a rush, and for a moment she enjoyed the wind in her face. Then she vomited.

“Watch it!”

Kaz looked up from the deck, scowling. He looked like shit. Blood splattered on his face and clothes, his usual sheened back hair in his eyes. Erin didn’t respond, shimming down the rope and placing her feet on solid ground.

“I thought you were a sailor.” He grumbled, stepping around the liquid on the deck. He gripped the railing, obviously queasy himself.

Erin held onto the rope

“I said I had been sailing. There’s a difference.”

Now that she was close enough to the edge, she saw her reflection in the water. It flickered between the mess she was now, and the scared girl she was. She felt sick again and covered her mouth, shaking. Kaz glanced at her.

“You need to be faster. If you had been gone any longer we’d have been screwed” he said coldly. Underneath his demeanor, she could’ve sworn there was concern in his eyes.

“Wouldn’t have to worry about it if you hired a damn crew” Erin grimaced as water splashed her.

“I didn’t think I needed one. Clearly I was wrong. You can barely stand without getting sick.” He scoffs

Erin glares at him, sweat dripping from her chin. If he noticed, he wasn’t letting on. She roughly pushed past him and up to the wheel, trying to think about anything other than the unforgiving water. Kaz was upset about something and followed her.

“Do you understand me? If you falter we all die.” He raises his voice slightly. Erin flinches, for the first time since they’ve known each other. That, he notices.

“Erin.” His voice is taught.

“I’m perfectly aware of the situation.” She responds.

“Then act like it”

Erin clutches the wheel tighter. She’s angry. She’s not sure why, maybe Kaz’s attitude had been too much. He didn’t seem to care about how she felt, of being on the sea made her feel. Erin’s face falls into a dark glare.

“You’re tardiness almost got us all killed and if you get sick while piloting the ship-“

“I know!” Erin yelled. She whipped her body to face him. Kaz merely raised an eyebrow, expecting her to continue. She wasn’t sure where she was going with this, her breathing was labored.

“Why are you acting like this is my fault. You didn’t have to be first mate”

That pissed her off. “First mate?? I am the only mate. I am the only person on the godforsaken ship that knows how to sail, or navigate, or anything that will get us to Fjerda.”

Kaz’s face remained unemotional. He glanced up seeing Jesper come up from the cabin. The sharpshooter looked at Erin and his eyes widened in concern

“Erin? Erin are you ok? Saints Kaz, what did you say to her” Jesper glared at his friend. Kaz shifted his weight.

“Reminding my Shadow that we’ll be fish food if she’s late again.”

Jesper puts his arms around Erin, who was clearly not hearing their conversation. He felt her shaking, and bet that Nina could hear her heart beat, even from below deck.

“She’s having a panic attack Kaz”

Jesper leaned down and looked at Erin. He tried to run the dried blood from her face.

“I’m fine” was all she could say. From behind her, Kaz clenched his jaw. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel. Upset he didn’t notice or upset she could be affected so easily. It’s not like he had a place to speak, it took most of his strength to not go running to the rail and throw his breakfast up.

“You are not fine. What happened at the harbor? You looked like you’d been running,” Jesper asked. Erin’s breathing calmed slightly and she was able to speak again.

“There were too many of them- I led five, no six of them down an alley. There wasn’t an exit.”

“And then?”

Jesper thought of Erin as a capable girl. Her shadows were not something to be on the wrong end of, but six men? He wasn’t sure how she made it out alive.

“And then I…. Then I-“

“Spit it out” Kaz said from his place at the wheel. He was growing impatient with her stuttering

“I cut them.”

Kaz looked over at her. The Cut. He’d never seen her do it, but from description of those that survived attacks from the Darkling, an infamous shadow summoner, he was sure he didn’t want to. He glanced at Jesper and the two of them made eye contact. There was a reason he’d never seen her do it, much like how he’s never taken his gloves off.

He stood unwavering in his place, watching Jesper comfort her. Part of him wanted to hold her too, and part of him wanted to strangle himself for thinking that. Kaz turned on his heels and departed to the cabin, needing to clear his head.

The Lion With The Red Mane

Thanks for asking!

So, in Greek Mythology, Heracles (yeah, it's not Hercules that's the roman one) has about 50 kids with 50 princesses. The Weasley family happens to descend from one of these kids, and Ron happens to inherit Heracles's powers. Strength, superhuman durability, superhuman senses and a strong sense of courage.

He has an irrational anger towards centaurs, has a good aim, finds Fluffy adorable, loves Care of Magical Creatures, and finds Luna's lion hat the coolest thing ever.

The fic mainly starts in GoF, but it has a few scenes of how Harry, Ron and Hermione deal with some of the things in their first three years. During the Triwizard Tournament Ron realizes he's not the only one with a god's powers.

Here's a snippet:

That event however didn’t stop Fred and George’s teasing for a long time, they would sometimes throw kitchen knives and sharp objects at Ron and were always amused when said objects did nothing to their little brother.

Sometimes a small object would make its way under the fridge, like when Mr. Weasley had dropped his wand and it rolled under the fridge. Ron simply picked up the fridge and handed the wand back to his dad. Bill and Charlie were always impressed and they would ask Ron to throw a rock as hard as he could. Or throw a gnome with only his index finger and thumb to see how far he could throw it. Or to pick up a fallen tree trunk and making a bridge to go over the river in the forest near the Burrow. There was an endless amount of things that the two of them would come up with for Ron to do.

Percy would ask his father to bring him books regarding wizards with an incredible amount of strength like Ron, it was only until he had turned ten years old that he had given up and decided that maybe Ron was strong just because.

Ginny liked calling Ron his big strong brother. When she and Ron had to stay on the ground as there were no more brooms to play Quidditch with the others, she would wonder out loud what it was like to fly a broom, she had been five and Ron seven, but at that young age Ron simply picked her up and launched her upwards. She squealed in excitement as Ron kept tossing her like a Quaffle.

Potters Look Quite Like Gingers Nowadays

Can't believe someone actually asked, but I'm happy to respond.

This one is a One-Shot Crack Fic I'm working on from book 2 to the final book.

Basically, Snape finds out about the whole Malfoy calling Hermione a mudblood incident in Chamber of Secrets, but instead of being angry at Malfoy for saying mudblood he projects himself onto him, and basically tries to set them up.

He fails because Hermione finds Malfoy repulsive and Malfoy really doesn't want to date Hermione, but still does what Snape tells him to because he's scared of his unstable Potions Professor.

Snape also begins to let go of his hatred for Harry and begins concentrating it on Ron, that's where the title comes from. I've just written a couple of paragraphs, but I hope it will turn out okay.

Here's little snippet:

Snape stared at Malfoy with such hatred, such repulsion and anger. That when Draco Malfoy finally raised his head, he realized he was looking into himself. The young Malfoy's grey eyes reflected his own dark and slumping figure, and there he realized they were one in the same. Two poor souls, unable to...

To be with the one they loved…

Yes, poor Malfoy truly had screwed it up. He had screwed it up far earlier than he had. With the exact same horrible word that had cost him his Lily. And then the disappointed came in, this world was so wretched that it could never let two tortured souls be with the one they love.

Malfoy stared up at him, and Snape then realized he so hope. Desperation. Fear. A thousand emotions that swam in his eyes. Surely, it was hope for Snape to fix this situation. Desperation for him and his lovely muggle-born Gryffindor to belong together. Fear of losing her forever.

"Mr. Malfoy," he said in his normal stern voice. He gulped, the poor boy he truly was scared of losing his Lil–Hermione. "Do not worry."

And then his previous frown became a slow smirk that overtook his features.

"You are not losing her," Snape continued. "I'll do everything in my power to get you and Ms. Granger together."

The poor boy, he was so excited he became almost petrified.

taylor swift bios

(just snippets that I think look nice in the bio)

my mind turns your life into folklore

take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die

to live for the hope of it all

"there goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen"

”sending signals

to be double crossed”

you can run, but only so far

help, I'm still at the restaurant

the greatest of luxuries is your secrets

sixteen and wild

 there is happiness

Drunkeness

Request? No.

Type? Headcannon, a little snippet

About? How they act drunk

Who? Nicole Demara, Billy kid

Nicole demara

The Irresponsible Drunk

• When drunk, Nicole becomes irresponsible, most importantly, with money

• When she is drunk, she likes to spend her money, like really spending it

• If someone that is responsible isn't with her, she buys lots of drinks for everyone she feels a slight connection with 'networking' as she calls it

• Coincidentally, while she was 'networking', she met you sitting at the bar and felt an immediate connection.

• She would slide into the seat next to and offer to buy you a drink trying to start a proper conversation with you

• Your immediate instincts are saying that you're either going to get scammed or meet someone you could connect with on another level

• Only someone really stupid would take that chance. i mean, who would take that chance?

• You apparently and if Nicole was honest? That was a blessing from a higher being!

• The conversation you both had was amazing, fantastic even!

• And you would listen to her when she spoke and looked at her with fondness in your eyes

• At the end of the night, when both of you said your goodbyes and Nicole is halfway home, she remembers ..

• She totally forgot to get your number! Not to worry, she'll definitely find you again!

Billy kid

The Confident Drunk

(Idk if he can get drunk)

• Billy is usually very silly, acting very confident even though anxiety tends to creep in, like when he asks the proxy, "I'm beautiful with any hairstyle!.. right?"

• When drunk, any sort of embarrassment, nervousness, or anxiety gets flung out of the window with bravo!

• That one guy at a party that is keeping the mood light and happy while also giving the far too drunk people a glass of water to sober up

• Keeps anyone who seems to be moping, lonely , or currently sobering up company not wanting them to be lonely

• "Will you be the pink starlight knight to my red one?" He'd jokingly say, as he sits next to you on the couch as you were sobering up to walk home.

• You were going to walk home, but looking at the beaming android, you couldn't help but stay listening to the rambling of Billy

(as he had introduced himself, you note very knightly)

• And he had almost talked your ear off so much so you think you could recite the entire lore of the starlight knights from memory alone

• It was almost time to walk home you had noticed and as you said your goodbyes to eachother

• Billy had quickly written something on a napkin and placed it inside your open palm before waving you goodbye.

(You walked home with the napkin securely inside your pocket, aware of the precious phone number on the piece of cloth)

Hare with young, oil on panel, Henriette Ronner-Knip (1821-1909)

Whoosh, whoosh. This is, now, the time when sun holds its highest place in the sky. this is when you step through the warm field of blooming poppies, lily sprouts, and tulip buds.

On this path of nurturing life, growth awaits you, welcomes vitality. Make a wish for a spark of life. Whether you seek a bountiful harvest, the blossoming of youth or fertility, The path of the hare leads you to the temple. Encounter his effigy. Offer him your devotion. Present your prayer.

When your wishes align with nature’s rhythm, only the hare can satisfy it. Always leave offerings—young fruit trees, tender buds or fresh herbage—to display your gratitude.

- Aelenist

(Context : snippet of a story with different types of gods with different utility. Please give feedback !)

Leaving my world at your care

prompt: “I do not know what tomorrow will bring, but whatever happens, please… take care of my cat.”

She had an hour.

And she used to go to him.

Heroine stepped through the boy’s dorms as quietly and as quickly as she could. None of the guys were out, probably scared of the punishments for dismissing bed-time.

It didn’t matter to her.

In less than an hour, she would be too far away from the academy. Which was terrifying, but meant that she could forget about certain rules.

Just as she started to enjoy her little rebellious freedom, she found his dorm. The headboy’s dorm. Her sole rival.

The stakes were too high to care about whether or not she obeys bedtime.

She took out the key bunch she had in her pocket, which she was given by her homeroom teacher to help him ensure no troubles were made inside the dorms.

“The teacher’s bunch? hm, you know, acting like a complete nerd won’t help you become smarter than me.”

“Maybe. But it will help me sneak mice into your room.”

Now Rival will learn his lesson.

She searched for the right key and unlocked the door, a bit at unease from the audible sounds the lock made.

Surprisingly, the room was not entirely dark. Rival’s windows were open and the full moon shed some light inside.

He was not in his bed.

Instead, he was sprawled over his table, his neck placed on his bookand his back crooked onward. This did not seem comfortable. And it would hurt when he wakes up.

“How come no one invented a way to not be stiff after sitting…?”

“You mean like, stretching?”

“...”

“Nerd.”

She knew that this astronomy exam stressed everyone, but she didn’t imagine him like… He looked so tired. Perhaps she teased his last score too much. 

and she had no time to help now.

I’m scared, too.

Heroine got closer to him, and raised her hand to his shoulder, but then froze.

He had enough to worry about, and she doesn’t know how he would react to her request- Nor what he will imagine is the reason for such a strange plea…

Right now, at least one of them got to rest.

But it wasn’t just her on the line anymore. She cannot just keep these problems to herself. And maybe, somehow, she had a feeling that he would rather know.

“Hey, Rival,”

She touched his shoulder lightly. It took a moment before there was any reaction. He groaned a bit, still resting his face above his arm. He turned to her side, opening his eyelids in a rusty way.

Heroine couldn’t help but smile at his widened, chestnut eyes.

“Heroine…?”

His voice was barely audible. 

“Yes, it’s me. I came to… well…”

She took a moment to collect the right words. The stakes were high, but she couldn’t stress him more than needed.

He brought his head up and straightened himself. Looking right at her.

“What’s wrong?”

Nothing, yet. But not for long.

“I need a favor from you.”

He nodded slightly and waited. Looking more serious than she ever saw him.

She didn’t want this. She wanted to comment on his messy bed hair and banter and see his smirk and just go back to her normal life.

“I will leave the school for a while and… and I cannot take my…”

She took a big breath.

“My cat. She’ll have to stay here and she doesn’t trust anyone besides… Will you please…”

“I will take care of Nova.”

Rival tried to smile reassuringly, still looking a bit tense. But the promise meant the world to her. 

Heroine smiled for a bit, too.

“Thank you, I don’t know what I… How would I leave without knowing she’s safe.”

But both of their smiles died down quickly.

“...where are you going?”

She inhaled, hoping to keep herself calm. And him, too.

“I do not know, but I have to. And… and I want to.”

He stared at her for a moment. He still looked tired, but also tense, and… and something else.

“Is it dangerous?”

Yes. I’m scared, Rival.

“I cannot tell you, Rival. This is my own problem.”

“Hero-”

“I never wanted to get you involved. But it’s… Nova, she doesn’t trust anyone besides me, and well…”

and you.

“You can get me involved in everything,”

He said, standing up and holding her gaze.

“Whatever this is, I can help. Please, I never saw you this anxious.”

He extended his hand towards hers, not quite touching, but closer than ever.

She closed the gap, holding his hand.

I’ll miss you, Rival.

Heroine then came forward, hugging him.

He was surprised, but accepting. Wrapping his arms around her himself. It felt nice and warm, and Heroine held him like she’d hold the last piece of normalcy she had.

Her clock buzzed. It was midnight.

“I need to go.”

Heroine said, not moving yet. She felt him sighning and nodding. 

They slowly let go of each other, and Heroine took out the key bunch and gave it to him. For one last moment, he held her hands.

“I won't let you down. I’ll take care of her for as long as needed.”

“Thank you, Rival.”

Heroine started walking away, she opened the door, and looked back once more. Rival’s deep brown eyes were still on her. Still too fearful for her liking.

“I will come back, as soon as possible. Enjoy being the top student while you can.”

She meant it. She will return, maybe sooner than expected. She will come back and hug him again and banter and hold Nova and stress about their exams and everything will be normal.

He smiled at her, hope and playfulness in his eyes. That was how she wanted to remember him.

“Enjoy being a dork in the outside world, nerd.”

“Oh, I will.”

Heroine closed the door and went her way, walking with ease. Knowing that she will return She will come back to hug him again and banter and hold Nova and stress about their exams and everything will be normal.

knowing all of that, Heroine walked into the night with confident steps.

I was grateful for the warmth of my horse's neck. I held on to her as she galloped through the city, skillfully going around people who ran everywhere. Searching for shelter in the night, but Only worsening the chaos.

Another lighting struck a building me, causing another yell of screams.

"EVERYONE HOME NOW!"

I shouted, praying that my voice is heard to all through the thunderstorm.

"DIRECT ORDER FROM THE KING!"

"HOME NOW!"

My horse, steadfast as she was, ran through every street. Inspired by her persistence, I kept yelling to the crowd. Ignoring the thunders, the pouring rain and my rattling sword.

We kept going until the crowds dissapeared. I whispered to my horse to slow down, caressing her neck. I allowed myself to lead her to a small market stall, where we could rest from the rain.

Maybe, just maybe, we finished our part. Maybe our night now ends.

"HELP!"

Of course.

I jumped down and ran towards the voice.

"My sister!

She is stuck under the fallen tree!"

I turned and searched for a tree in my eyes, but there is no... NO

The sound of an unleashed sword stood out against the rain.

I sprut towards my horse, but my sheeth was already empty.

Of course. Someone will try to use this disaster.

This will be a long night.

I saw the blade's shine from above me, and recognized a person climbing the nearby stone building.

She balanced herself on a window, then swiftly brought herself to the next.

"Halt!"

Whether she heard me or not, she made no sign to care. So be it.

I got on my horse and stood up on her saddle. My legs shook, but I managed to hold on to grab at the side of the closet window. I tried to move legs up to it, thankful for the empty street. There was no crowd who saw me wobbling in my armor. I looked up to the stranger, she watched me from afar. I couldn't see her face well, but her head was tilted to the side in an amused way.

I let go of the window's side and started taking off my armor, leaving only a dirty shirt to fend me from the cold. Slowly but surely, I climbed up.

I was cold, clumsy and sluggish, but had a small smirk as I managed to make my progress. This troublemaker picked the wrong knight.

The roof was just above me.

I raised my hand to climb there, and a lighting struck above it. It was the closet one I saw. I would want to believe that it's power made me tremble, but nothing but my own terror caused me to lose my grip.

I fell and- No.

A hand caught my arm, and I grabbed the roof tightly. I felt myself being pulled up signed in relief as rested on concrete matter.

The woman crouched down next to me. Her hood's shadow covered her eyes, but I could see her cocky grin clearly.

"You screamed a little, sir craven."

This could go unmentioned.

I inhaled and looked right into her.

"Thank you,"

The cold was taking it's tall at my exposed skin as I tried to keep my voice confident.

"But I cannot let you steal a weapon of the king's knights.

Tell me where the sword is and we both can go home safely."

Just let us go home.

"I have no evil motive,"

She said assuredly.

"It is right there."

She turned around and I could see my sword.

It was a few meters behind her, emedded in the center of the roof.

"And it needs to stay here. This is the only way to keep the lightings at bay."

She did not sound like she was lying.

And if she had any intent to harm me, she would have already done so.

But danger wears many faces.

I started getting up.

"I am sorry, it is my role t-"

A radiant white light crossed from the sky to the roof.

By incstinct, I tackled onto the hooded woman and placed myself between her and the light. I stayed above her, careful not to let us touch and make us both defensless.

Shaking, I waited for a strike.

"We are safe, craven."

Her voice was so sweet, I could barely tell it was the same person.

"Look."

I slowly opened my eyes.

Her hood fell, and revealed a freckled face and a beaming, knowing smile. Her sparkling, green eyes gestured to the sword.

I unwillingly turned back to it.

It was magic.

The very next lighting struck it as well.

"How?"

Her smile grew brighter.

"A witch never tells."

The white lights only highlighted her eyes. She was far more mirthful than I ever thought a witch would be. Far bolder and kinder, too.

I realized that I was smiling as well.

"Also, you have an awful method to protect someone from a lighting."

She said, deciding I was too happy.

"But, thank you, you are..."

Her smile turned softer.

"Yes?"

I urged her to continue. It was my turn to smirk.

"You are not as much as a craven as you seem."

I tilted my head, still smirking.

"Try not to drool too much, my lady."

She merely rolled her eyes and I laughed. Feeling safe for the first time since the night came.

My smile died down when she started getting up.

"Thank you for your chivalry,"

The witch said, pushing dirt of her cloth.

"and the amusement, of course."

I moved aside to let her stand, yet my eyes were unable to let go of her. I did not even know her name.

"But it seems like your duty is done and mi-"

"Wait, just..."

She did.

The cold barely mattered anymore. I searched for a reason, an excuse, for her not to leave. The way her eyes stared into me made it seem like she was looking for an excuse, too.

"Tell me what is needed to protect the city,"

I said then. Praying that the glint in her eyes was not just my imagination.

"I can get more weapons, and people who will embed them wherever is required."

The witch merely stared at me. Looking for any sign of dishonesty. Then her childish grin came right back.

"If you manage to climb down without fainting, I might just cooperate, sir craven."

Her taunt only made me smile.

"Your challenge is accepted, my lady."

I gestures to the roof's end, bowing a bit. She bowed dramatically, holding her hood with both hands as a dress. Her movements were swift and gallant as she jumped to the window, and soon I started following her.

There was a long night ahead of us.I did not mind that at all.

Wip I've been working on the past few hrs? Haven't drawn in a while but....let's go. You can guess who, I'll post it once it's done 🤧

Dancing, nicknames, and us

"Hey, shall I call you starlight now and then?"

Hero asks casually like they're asking their lover what's for dinner, not even batting an eyelash at the cheesiness.

But their lover seems to do enough of that for them, and hero watches as villain’s nose scrunches up adorably at that statement, the moonlight from the tiny window overlooking the busy streets illuminating their face just right.

"Um, I don't know, but that sounds way too cheesy." Villain says politely, not wanting to sound rude or anything.

Hero laughs like they've heard the funniest joke, eyes shut and head bobbing slightly, so they miss the way villain’s entire face lights up at the sound of their laughter, maybe even brighter than the moon for that one moment.

"Hmm yeah, you're right. Part of me thought that as well. " Hero says easily, snaking their arm around villain’s neck to bring them closer. They're dancing to some old record that's always there in villain’s apartment, a familiar tune. Villain doesn't even bother to resist, moving their hand from where it rested on hero’s shoulder around their hip, to pull them closer.

Hero chuckles at that and the words fall out from villain’s lips before they can stop them-

"Do that again."

Hero quirks their head shyly, as if thinking.

"Do what?"

"Laugh."

And hero does just that, not because they're trained to laugh on command or anything, they're no actor- it's just who they are. Hero always had a habit of laughing at almost anything, even if it's not even that funny and it's one of the things villain loves about their lover so much- their laughter.

Hero gasps a little, all that laughing making them tremble in villain's arms. The tempo of their dance is all off but the couple doesn't care one bit as they hold each other in the comfort of the darkness, a pair of matching smiles on their faces- hero’s is bright and shy, and villain’s is raw but sweet all the same, just like their personalities; they're opposites one second and the same person the next. There's no middle ground.

Hero looks up at villain’s face after their little laughing spree with so much love in their eyes, their face and their whole body, the way hero’s fingers gently brush villain’s cheek and they move just a little bit more closer, as if even the tiniest molecule of space somehow doesn't sit well with them and villain swoons with this bubbly and warm feeling in their chest-

"I love you."

They don't know who said it, and that really doesn't matter. All that matters is that they both said it.

Villain wants to run and hide away but they have nowhere to go, their heart pinning them in place. Defeated, they bend down and rest their forehead on hero’s shoulders and they can immediately feel a hand, hero’s hand, caressing their head. Villain just smiles into hero’s sweater.

"Just what are you doing to me?" Villain whines.

"Hmm?" Hero hums, trying to move in circles with villain leaning on them.

"I never knew I could be this cheesy." , Villain lazily mumbles and hero chuckles again.

Villain feels their cheeks heating up at the sound and they can't decide whether to be embarrassed or just drown in it.

"Well if it makes you feel better," Hero begins, "my heart goes crazy when you do cute things too."

Villain peeks up their head a little to catch a glimpse of hero’s face, the soft smile on their lips makes them weak. Hero was just too powerful.

"Let's just... dance." Villain manages with a shuddering breath, afraid that they'll melt into some cheesy goo if they keep this talk up any longer.

"Anything you want baby." Hero says in that cute voice like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Villain groans, smiling and looks like the happiest person on the planet.

Make you smile

The joint operation begins in 15 minutes.

Hero gulps nervously. Their hands are sweaty, body jittery. They're pretty new to this whole hero thing, and this is just their second operation, and already the hero organization wants them to work on a joint operation with a vigilante.

Hero doesn't understand, are they evil or not? Should I be scared or no? Their mind starts spiraling. If they're cooperating with the heroes, they can't be that bad right? Hero shakes their head a little, as if to stop thinking. I'm just being silly, I'll know if I meet them.

Hero takes brave steps, making it to the rooftop to get some air first and then they would meet vigilante-

Oh no, they're here too.

It's hard to miss them really- wavy raven curls, a lean but muscular build, and their costume... hero really likes it. Hell, they want to take them to the support people who engineer hero costumes right now and show them all this masterpiece. Hero unconsciously lets out a tiny squeal and immediately puts both hands on their lips, wanting to just disappear into the ground.

Vigilante whisks their head around- eyes sharp, muscles tense, registering someone else's presence on the rooftop. Their body goes lax when they see it’s only the newbie hero.

"Hey, hero."

Hero drops their hands to their side and gives them their brightest smile. They knew that headquarters didn't really want the heroes having much contact with any person on the other side of justice, but this is a joint operation after all, so there's no harm right? Plus they did have to work together, so a good first impression is vital.

Vigilante freezes momentarily. A hero is smiling at me? They almost want to laugh. This is new, all of them generally snarl or sneer. They look into hero’s eyes - it’s such a straightforward gaze, one without any sort of ill intent, that vigilante feels the need to look away.  How long has it been since someone looked at me like that? They can’t remember.

Hero walks over and sits next to vigilante. "Hey", they say in a quiet voice, still not over their embarrassing episode. Vigilante pays no mind to that though, thoughts still reeling with how to deal with this new hero.

"So," vigilante begins awkwardly, "did you need something?"

Hero just blinks at them, trying to register that question in their head. Then it finally hits them. If the heroes before them didn't talk to vigilante, of course vigilante wouldn't have talked to them beyond necessities either. That's not nice. Hero wants to change that.

"No, nothing. I just wanted to talk with you."

Talk? They just want to talk with me?

"So... you don't need anything from me but you just want to talk with me."

Hero tilts their head adorably, as if thinking about that statement. It does unspeakable things to vigilante's chest.

"Yes, is that... I don't know, against the rules or something?" Hero tries to joke, but it comes out a little shaky.

Vigilante smiles, secretly praying that it looks like one, "No, it's not. It's just... different."

Hero didn't need to look at the shape of their lips to know what vigilante was feeling. They could hear it in their voice- a tinge of pain.

Hero doesn't know anything about vigilante yet, but you don't have to know someone's history to make them smile right? Every person deserves to smile, at least that's what hero thinks. So, they're determined to do that, again and again.

"So, is this different, in a good way or a bad way?"

Vigilante thinks about it for a minute.

"In a good way." Their lips curve happily this time and hero secretly takes pleasure in it.

Vigilante definitely looked so much better with a smile on their face.

Hero’s smile matches vigilante’s - happy and satisfied.

-

The alarm goes off. They have to get in position now.

But there's something still bugging vigilante. They swallow a bit of their pride to ask, what's probably the most silliest thing that they've ever wanted to ask someone-

"Hero, wait."

Hero stops in their tracks, a few feet away from the exit door, turning back to look at vigilante.

"Why, um, why did you... smile?"

Hero chuckles heartily and vigilante's cheeks turn redder by the second. The tone is soft and sweet, not condescending, so vigilante doesn't mind at all. In fact, they think that they could even get used to hero’s laughter, and maybe, they’ll end up liking it someday.

Hero’s eyes don't leave vigilante while they think of an answer in their head. The hero organisation must be crazy, because how else can they label this person as evil?

" You don’t really need a reason to smile, you just smile if you feel like it, that’s all. But if you really want to know, smiles are something that reflect one another- that’s the nice thing about them. So I smiled, because you did.” They pause for a second. “ But even if you didn’t, I would have smiled anyways, because I wanted to.”

Hero grins as if to reinstate their point and vigilante smiles back, only then realising that they've been doing it unconsciously. It just felt foreign, but in the best way.

Vigilante looks like they’re trying to understand a math problem and hero thinks it’s the cutest thing. "You're right. That makes sense." 

Vigilante holds out their hand and hero looks at them questioningly.

"Come on, this way is faster", they point towards the edge of the rooftop.

Hero feels like their heart is going to fly right out of their mouth if they don't close it, so that's what they do. They keep their lips sealed as vigilante effortlessly scoops them up in their arms and jumps off the rooftop, their powers immediately coming to life. It makes hero wonder just how many times they've done this.

Hero can literally see their superiors in their head, hurtling curses at them for allowing a situation like this to happen. They look at vigilante's face from the corner of their eyes, and it's small, but that's definitely a smile there. Hero smiles wide, a feeling of pride filling up their chest. They know it's funny to feel that way, but feelings are feelings.

As they land safely on the ground, hero thinks,

I'll just leave this part out of my report.

I'm letting the spotlight shine on vigilante for this one, because hurray to morally grey characters who just pretend to be evil and don't actually go around causing chaos xD Hope you all will enjoy this one^^

Helpless

"V-villain, I'm feeling c-cold."

Villain held civilian's hand tight, as they laid on the ground, world burning around them, a metal rod sticking out of their stomach. Villain almost barfed when they first saw the sight, rushing in to save them, only then realising that it was too late.

They wouldn't even need to be here if Hero had done their job properly.

Anger boiled from the bottom of their gut. But they decided to quell it for now, for civilian's sake.

"Shhhh, it's okay. I'm feeling cold too, it's just... cold outside."

Civilain attempts to laugh but it comes out as a painful groan, "You're... saying that when buildings are burning around us? I'm not... *cough* deaf you know..."

Villain sighs, looking at civilian fondly. Their eyes are closed, so they won't see them but villain would look anyway. Flashes of them having a friendly debate about some random topic in their tiny apartment flashed through villain's head, making their whole body hurt and scream.

Why did it have to be you? You're so brilliant, and you definitely had a bright future ahead but now... that future's disappearing and I can't do anything about it. No matter how much I may want to.

Villain kept turning around, scanning the scene, looking for an ambulance or any health personnel but no people were in sight. Except for the dead ones. They were itching to go and drag a health worker here if they had to, but they couldn't just leave civilian in this condition. What were the heroes doing?!

Villain felt helpless and they hated it.

"V-villain, are y-you here?"

Villain immediately focuses all of their attention back on civilian. "Of course I'm here, where else would I go?" They held civilian's hand tighter for emphasis but they didn't get any response. Their heart sank.

"Oh, okay. I just can't... feel a-nything anymore."

Villain tried their best not to cry. Not now.

"Look up at the sky, it looks so beautiful today." Villain tried to sound calm and happy, but they think it came out as something strained and croaky.

Civilian strains to open their eyes. Villain's heart falls further into whatever abyss that was now swallowing them whole.

"I- can't... I can't see."

Tears run down Civilian's face and that was the final straw. Villain's hands gently wipe away those tears, while fresh tears steadily glided down their own cheek.

"I'll describe it to you then- it looks just like your eyes when you wake up. You know that your eyes change colour when they're exposed to sunlight right? That's beautiful too of course-

Civilian puts the last of their strength squeezing Villain's hand. Tight. Villain looks down at them now, their eyes barely open, but still open.

"You're beautiful too *wheeze* Villain."

Their hand goes limp in villain's hand.

No no no no no-

"Civilian, hey... hey! Wake up, come on. I'll go look for an ambulance right now, I'll drag the hero here if I have to-

Civilian didn't open their eyes again.

Villain finally let themselves sob. It sounded pained. Dreadful. Hopeless. They didn't think they could even make such a sound.

It seems like their sounds of agony had attracted someone else to the scene.

"Villain, what are you-

Hero shuts up immediately after seeing Civilian's lifeless body behind Villain.

Oh God no-

Villain was standing in front of them in a flash, Civilian's body held in their arms. Villain didn't have to say anything. Hero understood- their eyes were screaming at them.

Where the hell were you? Why weren't you here?

Hero could answer, but they didn't think any reason could justify them not being there. For civilian. For failing to protect them. For failing to complete their duty. And for breaking villain's trust. So they just stood there.

Villain seethed, and the next words that came out of their mouth made them feel like everything else that they had ever said before was a lie-

"I'm going to kill you."

Hey everyone! I'm sorry it's been a while since I posted. I just keep second guessing myself so I never end up posting, does that make sense? And yeah, this was meant to be a prompt but well, as always, I ended up making this long again haha. Hope you all like this <3

(Thanks so much for the support even when I'm not posting actively, you all are amazing💕 )

Falling for stairs

Hero let out a startled squeal, fairly loud as they felt their body swaying and legs losing every possible understanding they had of the ground . They felt like they were in math class all over again, where their head alone had an affair with gravity and that was fine because the desk was always there to catch them. Now, Hero wasn't so sure if they liked their connection with gravity at all.

They shut their eyes close tight, so tight that it kind of hurt as they waited for the painful impact.

They felt a touch on their arm not even a second later- soft at first and then firm afterwards, grabbing onto them and yanking them towards whatever it was. They then crashed into something solid and warm?! That was enough of an overload of sensory nerves that made Hero blink their eyes open almost immediately.

They were met with a tantalizing smirk, the same one that would follow them around in their dreams every night.

"You'd never have enough lives if you keep tripping over stairs Hero ."

Hero scoffed, trying to pull away and steady themselves from the warmth that was Villain.

"You're there to catch me anyways, so I know I'll be fine."

Now it was Villain's turn to scoff. "If you think that this is going to happen everytime then you're gravely mistaken. God knows how many times you fall for stairs everyday, if they were a person, you would at least have a lover by now."

Hero finally found it in themselves to whisk their wrist out of Villain's hand, walking back towards whatever class that they had next, a pout playing on their face. "Suit yourself."

After Hero's figure disappeared around the corridor, shy chuckles escaped Villain's lips. Oh how fun it was to rile up Hero and watch them dance.

-

Villain was making their way towards their Geography class when they heard that infuriating squeal all over again. They sighed, body moving before their mind could even think- how many times did this happen already today?! For the first time in their life, Villain found themselves regretting ever having super hearing because they couldn't ignore Hero, even if they wanted to- it's like their brain was subconsciously looking out for that stupid squeal no matter what Villain did, and the moment they heard that squeal, they dropped everything and rushed towards it. Pathetic.

But they couldn't stop. The horrifying image of Hero's head bleeding after it hit the sharp edges of the stairs would make them go everytime and they just couldn't understand why.

Judging from the proximity of the sound, Hero was somewhere right below them. Villain peeked to the side of the stairs just in time to see Hero already toppling over, their body so close to connecting with the jagged edges. Shit!! I won't make it if I run down the stairs. I have to jump.

Villain did just that, landing right in front of Hero, somehow managing to catch them and not topple down themselves. It was a miracle.

Hero was wedged into their chest again, chucking this time. Huh, now that's new.

"I thought you wouldn't come because you somehow knew."

Villain stared at them, head cocked to the side, a quizzical expression on their face, "knew what?"

"Knew that I fell on purpose this time."

Villain almost pushed Hero down the stairs themselves after that.

Almost.

Secrets - part 3

part 1 here

part 2 here

Ash tried their best not to show their disinterest that threatened to seep beyond their poker face. They really didn't want to be here, but supervillain had decided to gather their team because apparently the hero had been captured successfully, at long last.

In the few run ins that Ash had had with the hero, if there's one thing that they knew, it was that the hero was a really competent fighter and was almost unbeatable in battle. Ash would go as far as saying that they even respected the hero's dedication to their work. So that's why it was really weird to them that that hero could be captured so easily. They even felt bad for them, because they had nothing against them really. If life was kinder to them, then they wouldn't even be here, they might have even stood at the opposite side of all of this mess, and maybe could have even been an ally to justice.

They shake their head, ridding it of thoughts about a past that was now impossible to change. Right now, all Ash wanted to do was go home, back to that apartment where Adrian and Alex were waiting for them. Alex did say that they were going to go all out preparing dinner and Ash would be lying if they said that they weren't looking forward to it.

Just then the door to the hide out banged open, and two figures were thrown haphazardly onto the floor. Ash felt their stomach twist and turn when they got a good look at their faces- they began wiping their eyes multiple times, pinched themselves, did about anything that people generally did to check if this was some twisted dream. They wanted someone to tell them that this wasn't real- that this was all just a bad dream, a nightmare caused by over stress. Ash tried pinching a little harder but they still felt pain. Maybe if I pinch a bit more, I won't feel anything?

They wanted to scream their lungs out, because why did the two people that they cared about the most end up here, in the supervillain's hideout. Why?!

This made no sense. Nothing made any sense.

"Well well, looks like you've knocked the hero out cold." Supervillain's the first one to speak, eyes glistening with such mirth it made Ash want to recoil into themselves.

But hero? One of them was the hero all along? But who?

Their question was answered when supervillain stepped forward, bending down and grabbing Adrian's chin roughly with one hand. Ash had to hold themselves back before they ended up twisting that hand in a moment of fury.

Don't touch them! Ash wanted to scream.

Alex was the first one who regained consciousness, squirming around uncomfortably with the binds on their wrists. Ash wanted to rush forward and immediately shield them from supervillain's piercing gaze, but they held themselves back. Neither Ash nor their friends would make it out of there alive if they made a move now.

"Oh, good morning to you civilian. How unfortunate that you happened to tag along with hero when we had planned to kidnap them."

Ash watched as Alex stared at the unconscious form of Adrian in utter shock, clearly struggling to take in that piece of information. Alex's eyes darted, flustered, from the supervillain, back to Adrian, and Ash could literally see the cogs turning in their brain, Alex grappling with the piece of information thrown at them, not knowing what to do with it. So Alex didn't know either, Ash thought. They understood though, after getting to know the both of them better, Ash could confidently say now that Adrian didn't tell Alex because they wanted to keep them away from this world, and who could blame them? Ash definitely wouldn't. They looked at Alex's stunned figure sadly- watching Adrian's effort break down in front of them was heartbreaking.

Plus, the identity of a hero when compared to a villain was especially that of top priority. They've heard that the supervillain had spent years trying to uncover hero's identity- and that was finally revealed today.

Without any warning, supervillain wedged their foot right into Adrian's stomach, making them flinch awake with pain, only to scream. Alex tried to lunge forward but was held back by the henchmen. Ash almost lurched forward, again as Alex started struggling, screaming to get the henchmen to let them go, and Adrian was still out of it, clearly in pain. The entire situation screamed despair at Ash and tore their heart into tiny, pathetic pieces.

"Oh Villain, what's wrong?" Supervillain's attention turned for a meager second away from Adrian and Alex, and that made Ash more happy than they were willing to admit, " you just froze all of a sudden."

"I'm sorry, I'm a bit unsteady on my legs. I'm alright now."

Don't lose your cool. If you play this out nicely enough, you can still get them out. They don't know who you are, this is the perfect opportunity.

Having made up their mind, Ash wobbled forward, stopping right in between Adrian and Alex.

"What's wrong Villain? Do you want to go back home today after all?"

Ash wanted to puke at the fake concern in their voice. "No supervillain, that won't be necessary. I just wanted to make a suggestion, if you would let me."

Supervillain nods their head, signaling Ash to continue.

"We only need the hero right? If a civilian was to go missing, it would cause unnecessary issues and the police will begin to investigate-

The sound of skin against skin could be heard reverberating throughout the entire room. Supervillain had just slapped Ash so hard, that the force caused their head to fall sideways. From the corner of their eyes, Ash could see worry swimming in Adrian's eyes and they heard Alex gasp. Even in such a situation, even without knowing their true identity, these two still cared. That simple fact made Ash's heart warm.

"A-are you okay?"

Ash looked over to Alex and simply smiled, hoping that was enough of a response to the question. It hurt a little too much to talk right now. That slap had messed up Ash's disguise, their mask out of place, just enough to show their hair and eyes.

" Now now villain, you know better than to question my plans hmm?" Supervillain spoke with a voice that could cut.

Ash took a shaky step back, visibly flinching at the tone. This was the first time they'd seen the supervillain face to face and they were as cruel and heartless as the rumors said that they were.

"Your answer Villain?"

"Y-yes, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

Adrian's breath hitched in their throat as they took in the Villain's appearance- raven tresses that stood on the thin line between wavy and curly, those honey orbs, and that silky voice- there's no mistake. Even though the villain was only showing their back to them, Adrian knew. But Alex beat them to it.

"Ash, is that you?"

Shit. Ash visibly tensed, realizing that their voice changer was knocked out of position by that cursed slap.

"Ash, it's you isn't it?"

Alex called out again, sounding surer this time and Ash just stood there, like a deer caught in headlights, unable to decide whether to lie or tell the truth. If they said the truth, they would be killed by supervillain, and if they lied, they would have to fight but in the end still be killed by supervillain. It really didn't matter either way.

Ash looked back at Adrian for a small second and the recognition in their eyes was the final straw.

If they've already figured it out, then there's no point in keeping secrets anymore.

Ash stepped forward, taking off their mask completely. Alex gasped, the same shock crossing their facial features once again, looking like a fish out of water, completely lost and desperate. Adrian just looked at them and sighed. Ash couldn't decide if they sounded relieved or disappointed- they desperately hoped that it wasn't the latter.

Supervillain cackled, clapping their hands together almost maniacally, their rough voice echoing inside the tiny room. They looked like someone who was having the time of their life, enjoying an unexpected plot twist to their favorite TV drama.

While supervillain was distracted, Adrian struggled to get back up on their feet, only to be kicked harder this time, right where they'd been kicked earlier. They fell to their side, coughing sharply, a copper like taste springing to life in their mouth. Everything ached and there was just so much pain-

And then a gentle touch, slowly pushing away sweat slicked blond locks, and then a strong arm holding them close. Another arm clutched onto their shoulder, spreading warmth everywhere. Adrian opened their eyes to see Alex and Ash by their side, both of them looking like it was the end of the world.

And for the first time in a long time Adrian didn't feel scared. They had the two people that they trusted their life with by their side. And that wasn't going to change now, knowing that Ash is a villain. All of that didn't matter. At the end of the day, Adrian is Adrian and Ash is Ash, they're just two college students struggling to complete their degree in peace, forced into hero and villain costumes.

"This is all just so touching, isn't it?" Supervillain drawled, a hand coming up to wipe fake tears as the other villains and henchmen all nodded their heads, like petty little puppets. "A villain, hero and a civilian, all trying to have their happy ending."

Supervillain sneered and Villain felt a chill run down their spine.

"But I'll be damned if I let you have it that easily!"

A blast shot out from Supervillain's hand and Adrian had just enough time to push Alex away to the opposite side, clutching Ash in their arms and rolling over to the other side, missing the blast by a hair's breadth.

Ash felt Adrian groan against them and their blood froze. Adrian is hurt, and I have to get them out of here.

"Take Alex and leave Adrian, I'll take care of this." Ash said in the most menacing voice that they could muster.

But Adrian wasn't backing down, giving them a death stare and Ash thinks that they have never seen them this angry before.

"You're dreaming if you think that I would abandon you and save just myself and Alex." Their voice threatened, like pines and needles.

"But I'm a villain, I don't deserve any of this!" Ash wailed, their voice a mix of anger, sadness and desperation and it hurt Adrian's ears to hear Ash's sweet voice sound like that.

"Adrian, Ash, look out!"

This time it was Ash who saw the blast coming first, pulling Adrian flush to their chest and rolling away to shield them from the blast. It scraped away a little bit of their costume on the back and they flinched at the sharp, burning feeling on their spine.

Adrian tensed in their arms, eyes darting up to scan Ash's body for any more injuries. Upon finding no new ones, they sighed in relief, pulling themselves up and then Ash. They hid behind a wall for a moment of rest and looked into Ash's eyes softly.

"I'm a hero and I protect people, so let me do my job okay?"

"You'll protect me, even though I'm a villain?" Ash sounded so unsure of themselves and it made Adrian's heart tug painfully. They slowly brought their hand up to Ash's cheek, fingers gently circling the bruise that was forming there. Ash sighed unconsciously, feeling safe and content, all in one moment. They didn't know it was even possible to feel that way.

"I don't know what you're talking about, you are only Ash to me. Besides, I'm sure you had your reasons, just like I have mine." Adrian smirked.

And suddenly, Ash could breathe more easily. They at least had enough fight in them to roll their eyes at Adrian's antics, "Way to ruin the moment, idiot."

They moved together, movements in perfect sync as they made it across the room to reach Alex, while dodging the supervillain's attacks. Alex looked like they were just about done with everything. Ash couldn't really blame them. Adrian chuckled playfully at the sight.

"So it takes a hero, a villain and a supervillain to finally shut you up huh Alex?"

But Alex wasn't an idiot, they knew that while Ash showed their emotions more freely, Adrian would hide them and begin to joke away their worries. So Alex stared back at Adrian resolutely, with a determined gaze.

Adrian let out a knowing sigh and ruffled their hair a little, glad that Alex was safe more than anything. Being a normal civilian in a room filled with humans who possessed superpowers was dangerous as it is. Adrian never wanted to feel so helpless again, just thinking about how they couldn't do anything when Alex was threatened with a knife to their throat made their skin scrawl.

Ash bent down, gently bopping their nose with Alex. They definitely preferred the noisy version, seeing them quiet was just unsettling. Alex smiled up at them.

"I'm going to protect you two, no matter what." Adrian said suddenly, putting an arm around each of them, giving them a slight squeeze. They were met back with the brightest smiles they'd ever seen. Adrian felt like they could win this battle with just that encouragement. Being a hero was a lonely job and you always had to look tough on the surface, no matter what you were feeling on the inside.

And that's why Adrian treasured Ash and Alex so much, because they knew that they would stand by their side, no matter what.

"Ahem" Supervillain coughed obnoxiously, "It would be nice if you three didn't forget that I exist."

-

It was a tough battle, and by the end of it Adrian and Ash sported many bruises and many more scars, a few of them bleeding more than the rest. But supervillain was defeated, and Alex felt like crying out tears of relief at that fact alone. Because that meant that Adrian and Ash won't be in harm's way anymore.

They ran up to a staggering Adrian, being supported by Ash, holding them both as gently as they could. The other two chuckled softly, returning the hug. The three just stood like that for who knows how long, just basking in the fact that they were all safe, alive and warm, and their hearts were still beating, just like they're supposed to and didn't just give up halfway. Alex was the first one to break the embrace, looking up and down at Adrian and Alex as if they were deciding on what wedding attire to pick.

"I'm definitely going to need a lot of first aid kits tonight."

Adrian and Ash laughed together as Alex pulled them both forward, one hand in each of theirs.

All of them stepped inside their apartment with warm smiles on their faces, knowing that they belonged with each other and they weren't going anywhere.

Okay this is the final part / this snippet is finally over / and this became long as usual / hope you all enjoyed this!! / I think it's fun to think that supervillain secretly shipped all of them so I'll leave this here

Secrets - part 2

part 1 here 

The morning light peeks in through the slightly ajar curtains, the rays making Adrian's blond hair look almost golden. Ash just woke up, then trudged half asleep to the kitchen for a glass of water when the sight made them stop in their tracks.

"Good morning!" , Alex announces, coming out of their room sporting a big yawn and the moment just breaks. Ash is just... standing there, in the middle of the hallway, doing practically nothing, staring at Adrian's sleeping figure which only just now twitches a little because of the sound. How were they supposed to explain this?

Ash decides to start with a "Good morning", taking quicker steps to the kitchen and hoping that Alex did not notice the tiny stutter in their voice.

"So, did Adrian finally complete their work?" Alex asks, aggressively poking the sleeping figure on the chair. Ash winces at the sight- that's definitely not the way to wake someone up.

Ash clears their throat with a low hum, "Not really, but they only have one more page left to complete. I was thinking about waking them up in another fifteen minutes-

"WHAT?! THEY STILL HAVE A PAGE LEFT!" Alex screeches, successfully waking up Adrian who jolts awake in their chair, staring at nowhere in particular, a hand coming up to rub their eyes. Ash just sips their water, staring at the scene taking place in the living room from the kitchen. Alex sure was lively in the morning, a little too lively for their personal taste. Adrian didn't seem to mind though, as they patiently answered to any of the questions that Alex had regarding their work. I guess this is a way of caring too, Ash thinks. I wouldn't know, since no one cared for me like that.

Adrian's eyes flicker to theirs for a moment during the conversation, and their face breaks into this bright grin and Ash feels like they're seeing the morning sun all over again. They're too bright, but I can't look away. No... I don’t want to.

"Hey Ash, good morning!"

Ash chokes on their water a little but somehow manages to utter a coherent  "Good morning" in return. They make a mental note that Adrian’s morning voice has super high destructive powers - those husky undertones to that already attractive voice didn’t help calm their erratic heartbeats at all. 

"What, since when did you both become such good friends?!" Alex asks, sounding almost jealous.

Alex’s voice is nice too, a little high, but calming all the same, Ash notices.

"Since last night. " Adrian replies, winking suggestively, earning a punch to their shoulder.

"Ow!"

Ash swears that they tried, tried to keep in the laughter that threatened to tear out of their throat, but they knew that they failed miserably when the first syllable of a chuckle tumbled out of their lips. That chuckle multiplied and soon they're full blown laughing, hand clutching at their stomach.

Adrian and Alex stop their playful banter, all attention trained on their new friend who seemed to be having a good time.

Laughter is a contagious thing, and soon enough, the three of them start cackling, and it's a start to a pleasant morning.

Well, at least until Adrian remembers that they still had their essay to complete.

"Oh shit-

-

Adrian put each of their arm around Ash and Alex, in an attempt to give them a group hug. Alex seemed like they didn't mind for a whole minute, and then they pull away, spouting something along the lines of, "Don't think you can pay me back with just a hug Adrian, this is not going to happen every time-

But Adrian and even Ash, who had just properly met the two of them yesterday can literally see the same situation happening again, like deja vu, but in reverse.

"Well, do you also expect anything else other than a hug from me?" Adrian asks Ash with a cheeky smile, who has been silent for the most part. They could understand that Ash was a person of few words, unlike their noisy roommate.

Ash chuckles, "It would be great if I could hang out with you both more often, if that's okay with you both of course."

A chorus "Of course you can!" is the next thing that Ash hears, making their spine tingle pleasantly.

"You both are so loud, you know that?" Ash says, faking annoyance.

"Well, that's kind of our specialty." Alex grins.

"More like your specialty Alex." Adrian teases.

"Okay, you're going to pay for that Adrian!"

Ash just snorts, watching their first friends ever bicker happily.

Maybe if I'm with you both, I can forget that I'm a villain. Just for a little while.

-

It's been a jolly few months after that, both hero and villain not having much on their plate. But that instead only succeeded in causing immense worry for both the sides (from the villains side, probably only Ash was worried), because not having much to do could only mean one thing-

The villains were planning something big.

Adrian wished that this was like the other jobs, where getting less work was actually a good thing. They find themselves growing restless, looking down at their sweaty palms, even though the night breeze is pretty chilly.

"Adrian, thanks for waiting! Let's go home."

Adrian had come to the grocery store to accompany Alex on a small errand. They said that they were going to buy ingredients for dinner and Adrian thought that it was only right for them to come along, since Alex was cooking for them and Ash. Ash had said that they would drop by later.

It was pretty late in the night, but they weren't worried for themselves, they were the hero, they could manage if anything were to happen. They were however, concerned for Alex's safety. They were a normal civilian and thus had no idea of their other hero persona, about the world of violence and bloodshed that hero was a part of. And they wanted it to stay that way.

Heroes and villains always wore a mask to protect their identities, so there was close to no way for their enemies to find out about their real identity.

At least, that was what Adrian had believed, up until then.

But before Adrian can understand what’s happening, they feel something hard connect to the back of their head, making their vision swim.

No... no... stay awake!

Alex screams their name out, and Adrian suddenly feels so helpless.

Why is all this happening?! Why are they hurting Alex? They have nothing to do with this!

Adrian's ears ring painfully and they just want all of this to stop. They want to stop hurting.

"Stop it... please!"

The last thing they see before everything goes black is a knife pressed to Alex's neck.

Here's the second part / *slides some drama in here* / a little more drama in the next part / ash is still waiting for dinner and they have no clue, the poor thing / adrian knew that grocery store trips were tiring for a reason, but boy were they not expecting this / alex is in for a ride