Since I haven't posted fics in a while here's a mini thing (made using a prompt from a tumblr anon) in celebration of the end of final exam week.

The smell of biscoitos, cookies invaded the smell of old textbooks. Bloom welcomed the chocolatey aroma with a sigh.

A frustrated sigh.

Bloom drummed her fingers against the tabletop. Clearly it is way too early to be up. She’d already fallen asleep twice whilst trying to study. It left her feeling cranky and irritable, bored and stressed, and frankly hungry as well. And yet she didn’t seem to have the motivation to fix any of it.

Bloom combed her fingers through her bangs. “So worn out…” she murmured. “Finals week is so taxing.”

“Clearly.” Came a nonchalant response.

“Hmm…” Bloom looked up from her notes.

“Yes, you were speaking out loud.” The woman answered. “Also, you have pen markings all over your face.” She paused. “From the page you fell asleep on. Good thing too, I was hoping to get a look at yesterday’s notes.”

A brief flash signaled that her embarrassing moment would be forever burned into her classmate’s phone. Lovely.



“Thanks a bunch.” Bloom grumbled as she smudged the ink away. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and glanced across the room.

Of all people, it had to be her.

It had to be Icy.

Of course she’d find herself up at 3 in the morning inhabiting the cozinha with the ice witch. And what a surprise it was that the witch hadn’t woken her up. Moreover, the witch was being oddly silent—going out of her way to make as little noise as possible instead of banging all the pots and pans together in an attempt to be needlessly annoying.

“Do biscoitos, cookies taste better at 3 in the morning?” Bloom questioned.

Icy shrugged. “You’re not the only one who finals got the best of.”

“So you’re baking cookies? At 3 in the morning?”

“Something like that, yeah.” Icy replied. “I need something else to do. Since I won’t be getting any sleep anyhow, I might as well cook myself something…something that doesn’t take a lot of thinking.”

“A bowl of ramen or cereal would require a lot less brainwork.” Bloom pointed out.

Icy tapped her chin. “I suppose.” She took a assento across from Bloom. “Too late to go back now…” she trailed off.

“You’re not going to keep that—the picture of my inky face, I mean—are you?”

“Well I wasn’t going to…” Icy smirked. She opened her mouth to speak when—at the ding of a bell—her attention was pulled to the oven. She stood and stretched her arms slowly stumbling over to her cooking.

“Say Bloom. You like hot things…how about you take them out?” She cast a glance over her shoulder.

“And what’s in it for me?”

“You won’t have to cook your own food.”

Bloom sighed. She still didn’t have the motivation to fix her own problems, but if Icy was willing to fix one of them for her…well she wouldn’t let the opportunity slip. Bloom walked over to the forno and withdrew the prato, travessa of chocolate chip cookies.

Icy sat herself upon the countertop. “Take whichever.” She offered with a lazy hand wave. “Take however many.”

Bloom picked up one cookie, then two. And then three and four. A single bite provided her with a soft doughy taste…the way she preferred her cookies. Who knew the witch could cook? Much less, cook well.

Bloom looked over to thank her, but the woman already sprawled herself out on the countertop, arm draped over her eyes.

Apparently Icy was mais wiped out than Bloom.

Bloom rolled her eyes.

That woman could sleep anywhere.