#Hollow Port times: Drabbles

[hollow-port]

New tags!! Hollow Port Times: Drabbles

Secrets of the steam driven city: Lore Dump

[since-im-already-here]

'Permit me to remind you'

Klahadore drabble

(Image Source: https://woka.com.ar/?s=captain-kuro-by-@tsuyomaru-one-piece-pictures-one-piece-qq-3Go3Y0Ua)

Word Count: 2,005

The night began as the sun bid farewell to the sky and greeted the stars with familiarity, deeming it an appropriate time to get into bed with a nice warm drink and cosy pillows, which is exactly what you were doing for the young lady Kaya. Reaching for the scorching pot of tea, you pour her a small teacup and bring them over to the newly tucked in and settled Kaya as she reclines against her cushions.

“Klahadore is insistent that I ensure you drink your remedy, my lady. I hope the flavour has improved with the small amount of honey I've added. A little sweetness goes a long way,” you directed her, she nodded and gave a small apprehensive smile. Her illness was depicted in her pale face, hollowed eyes and the dryness of her mouth. You returned her smile before reaching behind your back and collecting a few of the sugar-coated treats you had managed to swipe from the kitchen without the staff noticing. With a sly smile, you offered them to her, 

“Speaking of sweetness, I stole some biscuits from the kitchen stash for you,” you gave her a small wink, offering a final hushed command of, “Don’t tell Klahadore.” 

Kaya begins to giggle at your comment, but immediately slips into a sinister and dry coughing fit, prompting you to reach behind her and pull her into a more upright position to clear her airway as she finishes her collection of raspy, dry breaths. You wince as she coughs into her hands, offering her your handkerchief you keep tucked within your sleeve to collect her illness parting from her lips within. 

“I don’t feel well enough to drink right now. I just want to sleep, please?” Kaya wheezes through her words. From hearing her shaken breath and dry wheeze, you decide that, just for tonight, she can skip her remedy. You place the tea and the biscuits back onto the tray you brought them in, ready to face the disapproving tone and glare of the chief of staff. The same chief of staff that you, two nights ago, shared in an interesting experience with. 

It seemed all it took for the both of you, was a bottle of sticky-sweet port wine shared in the afterhours of a particularly long day of tending to your duties as lady’s maid to the young Lady Kaya. Once the staff bid you both goodnight for the evening with a curt nod and a small, polite smile; a small glass of wine shared between two leaders of staff was followed by another. And then another.

As our memory drew into a small haze, you walked throughout the halls with the full tray clutched firmly in your hands. You were unable to recall the moment from when you had finished the last of the sweet wine to having your arms draped around the neck of your raven-haired coworker. 

Your lips pushing against each other, gasping for breaths as your limbs entangled in the wine cellar against the racking barrels as they syphoned the crimson liquid into the barrels below. This was not how you expected the night to progress; but the two of you had many moments you could’ve considered flirtatious leading into the evening’s event. 

Closing your eyes now; you could still feel his breath fan against your neck as you controlled your verbal gasps and whimpers against each other’s flesh as your bodies joined at the lips. You could still feel his hair falling onto your forehead as he drew away from your neck to gaze longingly into your eyes. The awkward feeling of his glasses inching down his nose and falling onto your face. You remember feeling his hand remove itself from your hips, your jaw falling slack as you witnessed him press his inner palm against his glasses to redraw them atop his nose, only to then force it way under your shirt to grasp your hip again - the warmth of his gloved hands welcome against your flesh.

You knew it was not becoming of a lady to join in entangling yourself with a gentleman in such a way, especially in a place as exposed as a wine cellar. This was not your first dalliance with a man, but it was your first with a colleague. 

Reopening your eyes, you attempt once more to rid your thoughts of their waves of memory, the warm feeling of anxiety and loss of control clawing their way from your chest to your jugular; discomfort clutching at your lips and souring the flavour. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We need to stop,” you whispered in between his bruising kisses atop your lips, “someone could hear. Someone could-.” Your words were syphoned into the mouth of your lover in a similar likeness to the barrels racking beside you.  

“Just a little more,” as he pressed his lips into your neck, tongue swirling at the pulse and feeling the elevation in your heartbeat. “Please, darling. Just-...” He trailed a flurry of exuberant oscillations of his smooth lips against your jaw to your cheek, “-Please.” 

He began losing himself in the feeling of your body wrapped around his, your arms around his shoulders and his own raking over your hips to grasp the flesh of your back in a desperate clawing motion to clutch you closer. Another kiss was shared in a long and drawn out caress, followed by another. Then another. The stagger and rapidity of his kisses did nothing to deter the intended silence being met in the air; your whimpers painting the atmosphere with their melodic serenade. 

“Klah-’’ you squeaked, another attempt to steer his passionate kiss to a halt being met with no reaction. This verbal warning didn’t seem to sway him in the slightest. It almost seemed like his name meant nothing to him in the heat of the moment. 

It wasn't until footsteps were heard that it broke him from continuing to chase the feeling of your lips against his own in exuberate moments. At the rise and fall of pattered footsteps against the cement floor, heels clicking and echoing within the chamber as they made their approach. The fear of being caught by his colleagues was all too much for both of you; yet you were still entangled within each other’s arms as stiff as the portraits painted above the cellar walls. As they retrieved a bottle of wine, they left the cellar with their heavy-laden footsteps trailing behind them in tow. 

You both breathed a small sigh of relief as the cellar door closed behind the unsuspecting coworker, your smile breaking against your lips as he turned back to face you again. His eyes softened when his gaze met with yours seeming to, just now, remember that you both were working. He leant forward to rest his forehead against your own, the glasses again falling from the top of his nose down to the tip and brushed against the tip of your nose. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Lost within the spiral of your own thoughts, you start to wonder if it was just one night to him. Did it mean as little to him as he made it out to be? There was no whisper of a word or a murmur to inform you of anything other than the sort. No acknowledgement of the event even occurring the following day as you fell into the rhythm of working together in perfect synchrony. 

Continuing to the kitchen, you set down the full tray of hot blue tea and stolen biscuits against the sink to prepare disassembling the arrangement meant to be presented to the lady under your charge. At eyeing the sugary treats atop the porcelain tray, your anxiety begins to elevate with the rapidity of your heartbeat that you did, indeed, steal those biscuits to bring to Lady Kaya from the pantry. And you did, indeed, bring the full tray back down to the kitchen, knowing full well that Klahadore would be less than pleased that Kaya did not drink her remedy that night. 

Hearing the barely audible tap of soft shoes upon the kitchen floor causes you to briefly halt your disassembly of items, retracting your hand from the handle of the teapot you had begun to pour down the sink. Resetting it upon the tray, you rotated your neck to rid it of the small click within before narrowing your eyes and curling your lip. 

“Why is the tea here?” the smooth voice purred from behind you, “She needs to have her tea daily, Dear. And biscuits? You know better than-.” His voice halted as you thumped your palms first on the kitchen counter before turning to face him.

“Klahaore, I don’t know better. I know best,” you challenged him, your brows decreasing their position on your forehead, “A simple biscuit will not cause her harm, and we both know she needs something in stomach or she’ll feel sick from the tea as it hits it.” You stepped closer to him, raising your chin to glare into his eyes. His jaw slackened slightly, his breath hitching at your verbal challenge and the proximity you drew yourself within.

After several unspoken and silent moments pass between you, he clears his throat and readjusts his glasses with the heel of his palm. His mouth begins to open to begin another order towards you, only to halt at your next interruption.

“If that will be all, I shall take my leave for the night,” you rotated your shoulders, standing firm in your upright and formal posture and awaiting dismissal from your superior. Klahadore furrowed his brows, not truly understanding where this animosity and surliness had come from.

"See me in my office," he ordered, stepping closer to your body. You stepped back from his approach, unbreaking in your defiant expression nor the rigidity in your posture.

“My working hours begin between the time my lady rises in the morning, and concludes once she is settled for the night,” you quipped in return, “If I am to be required to attend a meeting with my superior, I will do so in the hours I am employed within.”

"I am giving you an order, darling. You will come to my office now," he informed you, his tone strong and low. He stepped towards you once more, which you followed by stepping back to keep yourself an arms length away.

"And I am saying I will not," you smirked in return. His eyes darkened, his jaw tensing behind his pursed lips. 

With that small smirk, you begin to push yourself past him, only for him to grab your wrist firmly and pull you against his torso. Your eyes fill with disdain as you glance up at him, though you imagine it isn't too threatening with your cheeks flushed with the contact he was providing to you. He holds you wordlessly, staring down into your eyes with a final warning-look. 

“Sir,” you spat, looking down to the position his hand was remaining circling your wrist within, before floating your gaze back up to his spectacles framing his dark eyes. He breaks from gripping your wrist and hovers his hand to the side of your face, almost brushing the heel of his palm against your cheek in a gentle caress. 

“We need to discuss what happened in the wine cellar,” he whispered in such a low and intimate purr of his voice, it prompted your cheeks to flush with further warmth than the initial contact of his grasp on your hand. You gulped back your collected saliva in your mouth, darting your gaze between his eyes.

“And what happened in the wine cellar, Klahadore?” you feigned your ignorance, recollecting the exact moment he was referring to but choosing to play coy with a smirk threatening to find residency back atop your lips. 

His lips ticked up to the left hand side of his lips as he stooped lower to your face, whispering gently in another purred tone.

“My darling, permit me to remind you.”

Apprehensive tag list @fanaticsnail @writingmysanity @sordidmusings

[moodymisty]

“He was always heavier than his brothers. His armor had to be adjusted three different times to fit him as he outgrew it.”

“His armor might be cold, but astartes run hot; Like their blood is boiling, so beneath that metal chill is the heat from the skin visible on his face and neck. You think if the cathedral was any colder, his hot breath would be visible.”

Our black templar bf is large and warm??? Everyone in the reblogs is talking about sleeping with him, while I’m thinking about how nice it must be to sleep (nap, rest, snooze) with him. That man is a human version of a heated weighted blanket! The cuddle sessions with him must be astonishingly good!!

You're thinking good thoughts, anon. Honestly other than the interface ports, a big ol' space marine would be a fantastic cuddle partner in the cold. But maybe that's just me deluluing.

Also I know writing requests are closed because of my backlog, but I just really wanted to do this. So enjoy.

Warnings: Unnamed Black Templar from this fic/Fem!Reader, Possessiveness, Size difference, General 40kness, A very rough drabble so plz forgib

The wind outside howls, battering against walls much less suited for keeping heat comfortably indoors.

To think, you would now very much prefer to return to the Sigismund's Oath instead of having to face weather significantly more severe than just the cold hollowness of the ship. At least he is of a high enough rank that he's allowed a barracks of his own; You don't know how you'd feel in a hall with ten other astartes.

If you already feel like some sort of prized animal in the brief moments you're around them, you can't imagine how that would feel. Particularly if your only protector had to leave you alone.

Suddenly you look up as the only door opens, teeth clattering against each other. You neck hurts from how tense it's been, toes curled in worn shoes as your body desperately tries to keep the most important parts warm.

He enters, no longer in his armor and now sports the loose cloth trousers and robing astartes usually do when out of their ceramite gear. You can see the scars that are scattered over his skin; An untold amount from both battle and his creation.

You rub your hands together fast to try and warm them, before sticking them between your thighs. He watches with that same stoic, unreadable expression.

"You're cold." He says it so matter of fact, you can't help but purse your lips to avoid smiling. You nod and try to hold back the clattering of your teeth.

"I'll be fine. I just need to get used to it." You'll be here awhile is the assumption, so 'getting used to it' is going to be a necessity.

He walks closer to where you sit on his temporary bed. Important enough that he couldn't remain stationed on the ship until needed, but not enough that he couldn't be relieved of duty a moment of actual rest. For a brief moment, you wonder what he's like in battle.

Coming closer to you he in one fell swoop sits down onto the bed, making you to wobble.

"Come," He says, looking at you.

When you freeze for a moment, he speaks again with more words an a more exasperated tone. "Are you like my battle brothers from Inwit now, and prefer the cold?"

As of late he's becoming a bit more talkative around you- though you suppose 'talkative' might still be a bit of a stretch. Out of the many things, humor was not one of the skills bestowed upon them by his Primarch Dorn's genes. At least from the stories and scripture he's taught you as of yet.

Quickly you shuffle closer to him, and he grasps your arm tightly and pulls you against his chest. You quickly adjust in his lap with your legs pulled closed to you. He sleeps sitting- unsurprising to you given his history- with his dagger in arms reach. You suppose this is the most natural extension of that, curled in an almost upright fetal position.

Other than his interface ports pressing against your skin he is overwhelmingly warm, and within moments it feels like you're barely even cold anymore. Astartes and their blood, you swear it almost feels like it's boiling. No wonder he pays the cold no mind.

His massive hand covers good portion of your upper thigh, as he keeps you held close. His nearly inhuman amount of muscle isn't as uncomfortable as you'd thought it would be, as your shift your hands.

It's comfortable and snug, but you doubt you'd be able to leave now even if you'd wanted to.

Your shoulders relax a bit now that you're no longer shivering, and safely in the arms of your Black Templar, you finally feel like you can fall asleep. Even if you'd been warm, the idea of doing so in an unknown place with the one who'd brought you here no where in sight isn't a good one.

You know that unless they suddenly have need of him, he'll have five hours of sleep. You'll have the same, though unlike him you have to daily, whereas he can apparently stay awake for days at a time. Another odd quirk.

You don't know if he's asleep as it's impossible to tell, but you fall asleep not long after, finally warm and comfortable.

[demon-blood-youths]

The Summoning Chaos - The Bladed Chaos Challenges The Soul Society || Drabble

Hi guys! This is another funny drabble for my friend @the-silver-peahen-residence.

Another incident regarding Ink's greatsword; Wyvern and his shinegnans. And this time...the Wyvern has a bone to pick with Soul Reapers.

How this did happen?!

---

If you want to know Wyvern's previous antics: part one, part two,

including the spectator notes version: part three ( Port Mafia; BSD ), part four ( Tokyo Jujutsu High )

Warning:

The Jujutsu Sorcerers in this drabble are straight-up savages.

Yelling

Cursing

Screaming

Chaos

------ Guest stars -----

Canon muses played by Peahen-mun: Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, Sukuna and Gojo from Jujutsu Kaisen. Ichigo from Bleach.

My muses: Taz, Ink, Daichi and yes...Wyvern.

The rest....Soul Reapers...

------ Summary ----

After the mission at the mall, Ink went on another with Taz and Jujutsu High students. Another adventure. However...this time...they ended up in Soul Society. How did this turn out?!

-----

------ Wednesday Morning -----

Gojo recivces a word from an ally in Karakura Town, Tokyo, Japan. His students; Megumi, Yuji, Nobara, Taz, and Kisho went on a mission together with Ink to exorcise a cursed spirit on a farm. Though...Gojo sees her as a potential student.

However, there is no word. What did he receive from Megumi that they encounter a hollow and no word after that. He is worried about his students, yes. But he knows they can take care of themselves. He has faith in them. Then he receives a phone call from Ichigo Kurosaki that his students are in Soul Society of all places!

Gojo had to blow a whistle because that's impressive. No human went to the Soul Society. Jujtusu Sorcerers never went to the Society Soul for 1,000 years.

In a way, he's glad that his students are safe. However..he has no idea how much trouble his students are in when he comes to meet with the Soul Reaper and a man in hats and cogs named Kisuke Urahara who has a connection to the Soul Society.

----- Urahara Shop ------

"Yo! Ichigo! What's up? Sorry I was late."

"Gojo!" Ichigo said. "Thank god you're here."

"And you must be Kisuke Urahara. The one who gave Daichi...or rather Kisho a sword." Gojo smiles.

"The one and only!" Urahara laughs. The men both laughed making Ichigo sweatdropped. "Hey! Focus! We got a bigger problem! Your students are in the Soul Society and the captains are pissed!"

"Captains?" Gojo muses.

"Pissed?" Kisuke Urahara muses.

"What do you mean?" Gojo muses.

"Well........" And thus...Urahara sets up a communication snail. A two-way radio between the world of the living and the Soul Society. Soon, Ichigo got his friends from Soul Society on the line.

------ Minutes later ------

"Ichigo! What's going on? Did something happened?" It's Shinji Hirako, a captain of the 5th Division.

"Their teacher has arrived. Gojo Saturo." Ichigo said.

"Gojo Saturo?" Shinji Hirako; captain of the 5th division and a visored. Oh! I heard of you! Well...the Gojo Clan to be precise. You're pretty famed for the six eyes." Shinji Hirako muses.

"That I am!" Gojo said proudly.

" And you must be the one responsible for these monstrosities, aren't you?" Shinji Hirako asked so nicley, it doesn't sound nice. Ichigo and Urhaara blinked. Monstrotiries?!

"It depends on what monstrosities you talking about". Gojo said.

"YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT WE MEAN!" Renji yelled, making Ichigo wince, "The entire Seireitei is in panic mode because of your students!" He yelled, freaking Ichigo out.

"Huh? What do you mean!?" Gojo said as if he is playing dumb, making Renji more upset.

"ALL SIX OF THEM! DO WE HAVE TO EXPLAIN IT?! YOUR STUDENTS!" It's Renji said.

"Easy Abarai...." Shinji said.

"Welll~sure! I can't believe the Soul Reapers will have trouble dealing with my students." Gojo chuckled making Ichigo sweatdropped.

"I almost forgot how insufferable you Gojos are," Shinji sneered.

"Oh! You can't even imagine! I couldn't believe a group of Jujutsu Sorcerers....children no less caused a huge commotion in the Soul Society of! Please do tell!" Gojo said.

"Where do I even begin...." Shinji sighed.

"Captain Shinji! Let me give my account on that matter, please." Said Rukia, "I will tell him about this brown-haired girl carrying a hammer and nails! She hurt most of our friends. She's a witch! She uses a voodoo and she frightens our allies. I was the one to deal with her!" Rukia yelled.

"Ah That must be Nobara Kugisaki." Gojo hums.

"After she defeated a few of them, she took away Shihakushō  from them and left them in the cold!!" Rukia cried.

"Wait...wait...wait...she took their clothes?!" Ichigo said.

"YES! And not because she wants to blend in like Inoue and Uryuu did! No! She wants to see if she can find the right size and add to her wardrobe because she finds it so stylish!!" Rukia yelled as she couldn't believe this.

"Sounds like you really hit it off!" Gojo laughed.

"And there's a kid with some red parrot and made everyone listens to him!" Renji adds, "Like he's telling stories and calling himself Daichi Pheon-X or whatever his name, and they are so distracted they can't get the others because they are running around the place."

"Stories? Wait...they listened?" Gojo said. Kisho Hisimato aka his alter ego; Daichi Pheon-X.

"Well...it's really hard to get someone when they have THEIR OWN THEME SONG PLAYING!" Renji yelled, holding his way.

"Wait what???" Ichigo said. Daichi Pheon-X has a theme song?

"Oh wow. He has a theme song?" Gojo commented, impressed.

"I tried to get some sleep and I tried to confiscate the radio but I can't find it anywhere on this guy!" Renji yelled. "WHAT THE HELL?!"

"Did you try looking at the bird?! Just squeeze the bird a little and he will stop." Gojo advised.

Hearing this fact, Renji stands up and goes over, "Alright, bet!" Renji seems to be moving as if he got off the desk or something, "HEY! YOU FLYING KARAAGE! GET OVER HERE!" Renji yelled, and Daichi was yelling at him. There is a song playing in the background. A theme song indeed.

"Hey, let go of Eito!" Daichi yelled and Eito lets out a noise, "BAWK!"

The music stops. Renji came back as he lets out a sigh of relief.

"Finally... I get some sleep after 2 nights!!" Renji sighed with relief.

"And this other girl! One of our captains found her, and we chased her down. We lost her because he put Sajin Komaura under a spell!" Shinji sighed.

"A spell?!" Ichigo said.

"I can't describe it. His lieutenant said something about the captain feeling weak after his ears were scratched." Like being petted? " Then we found her and she is apparently sleepwalking." Rukia said. "

"Sleepwalking?" Ichigo blinked.

"Yeah! We thought it's going to be easy catch! But no! She walked into a wall and all of a sudden, her personality flipped a complete 180. She summoned these shadows, monsters! Those monsters beat the crap out of other squads! Oh! Did I even mention a rat on top of her head talking to us?!" Shinji said.

"Not a rat. It's a quoll." Gojo said.

"We don't care what it is!" Renji said.

"Okay and what happened!" To Ichigo, Gojo looks so invested in the trouble that his students caused.

"She beat up several of our soul repears and straight up bullying them up. By having them run errands." Renji said. "Soi-Fon had to come in and even she give her trouble. The girl was worn out so she fell asleep."

"Hehehe! That's Kinie Ger." At least Taz is right.

"And.......that kid with the urchin haircut came with the entire zoo of animals! A freaking circus!" Shinji said.

"Megumi Fushigoro." Gojo said.

"And he beat some of the squads and had them piled up to build a body wall! It took some of us to be really careful, taking our guys out of there before we tried catching him. And he messed with the Jigokuchō!" Rukia explained.

"The black butterfly that goes around and sends out orders around Seireitei?!" Ichigo asked.

"YES! AND HE MESSED WITH THEM AND MAKE US RUNNING AROUND STUPID!" Renj yelled. "My captain finally finds him and knocks him out!"

"AND! For some reason...the pink-haired kid is freaking strong. He beat up everyone up and is so freaking hard to catch. None of Soi-Fon's squad can catch up. He broke down walls and Lituentant Hisagi had a hard dealing with him. We had Captain Kensei to subdue him after defeating several seats!!" Shinji stated.

"Guy is freaking strong!" Ikkau Madarame said from the background.

"Not only that...he gives me that feeling of a familiar cursed spirit from the Henian Era. The King of Curses. Is he a descendent?" Shinji scowls. However...Shinji didn't expect the next words coming from Gojo's words.

"Oh no! he ate one of his finger and he got reincarnated," Gojo said it like it's another Tuesday. That didn't bode well for them.

"HUH?!" The Soul Reapers said.

"HE ATE THE WHAT?!" Renji wants to throw a chair.

"YOU JUJUTSU SORCERERS HAVE ONE JOB! ONE JOB!! HOW DID THIS HAPPENED?! YOU SAID YOU CAN HANDLE IT!!" Shinji Hirako yelled angrily.

"Things happen over several centuries!" Gojo cackled.

"You Gojos...." Shinji twitched an eye. "Your clan...always love to annoy Soul Reapers, don't you?"

"What can I tell you?! It's a tradition!" Gojo laughed.

"Wait...Shinji. You said six. You told us five people so far." Ichigo said, trying to get back on track...

"Oh you mean the girl with a demon sword. Yeah... don't get me started on that girl with that demon sword of hers!" Shinji groaned.

"Wait..demon sword?" Ichigo blinked and looked over to Gojo. "Hey! What the heck is he talking about?"

"Oh! I think he's talking about Ink."

"Who?'

"You know the one who beat that corrupt pro-hero!" Gojo smiled.

"Ah! Van Ink The Dragon, right! I followed the news!" Urhaara said as he waved a fan. "A nice girl!"

"Shit, really? She's there?! Why is she there?"

"She was visiting Taz. Taz is part of her family."

"Oh...okay!" Getting back on track, Ichigo asks, "What did she do?!" Ichigo asked.

"It's not what she did. It's what her sword did. Her demon sword made a huge mess!" Shinji groaned.

"Wait what?" Ichigo blinked.

"We confiscate it after apprehending her and for some reason, it broke out of the lab and went around, destroying shit!" Renji shouted.

"You took the sword away from her???" Gojo asked surprised.

"Uh...yes. Are we not supposed to do that???" Rukia asked.

"Well...no...you see. She can just call upon her sword and the sword comes to her-"

"CALL IT?!" Renji shouted.

"As in.....she summons it to her side?" Shnji said. " "If that's true, that sword could of make a straight line for her. I wonder why it was speeding around the Seireitei, was it trying to find her?"

"Is it like a zanpukto?" Ichigo said. Everyone is quiet.

"We are trying to figure it out! So I was hoping the teacher explain that to us." Shinji asked. "That sword made a huge mess. He destroyed some buildings, hurt most of our Soul Reapers, and terrorized the Seireitei .

"OH! I have a good guess." Gojo said happily.

"Really? What's that?" Rukia asked.

"That's because that sword has a mind of its own. Sometimes, Wyvern, the greatsword, is a fickle thing and sometimes doesn't listen to its owner..."

"Wait what?" Ichigo said as the other line is slience.

"Though...sometimes the sword knocks out the wielder.'" Gojo said cheerfully. Ichigo can imagine the reaction from his allies and friends when they hear that as there is silence on the other lie.

"THE HELL?! You're telling me that sword caused a lot of DAMAGE, beat up Soul Reapers from our squads, destroyed several buildings, gave our the seats and lieutenants trouble, and fought three of our captains! It has a mind of its own and doesn't listen to its master?! What kind of sword is this? You're making it sound like the sword can do whatever it wants and its master doesn't know it." Renji asked, flabbergasted.

"Exactly! It doesn't like anyone taking it away from the owner. And you said you took the sword away from Ink to a lab. I bet it gets really mad after being touching so it took out on you guys! I guess that's what happened?" Gojo said cheerfully.

"Are you serious???" Shinji asked.

" WHAT THE F*CK?! What the hell is wrong with your students?!" Renji said.

"Wait...wait...wait. A sword fought some seated officers, lieutenants and captains?!" Ichigo said. "Just a sword????"

"Yes! That sword is going on a rampage, destroying Captain Mayuri Kurotsuchi's lab. Tore through our barracks! Knock out many of our squads! Me, Madrame, Yumichika, Kira, and Hisagi had a hard time to stop the damn thing. But we can't and all of us got hit in the shins! IN THE SHINS! IT REALLY HURTS!" Renji shouted.

"So you got your asses kicked?" Ichigo asked.

"NO! WE WERE EXHAUSTED!" Renji said this in order to save face.

"Then Captain Toshiro Histguaya intervenes," Shinji interjected.

"Okay that's good-"

"And the ice doesn't work on it. He trapped it in ice and still broke out of it! Nothing can hold it down and it was chasing him around all over the place! It didn't stop until it knockled him out of the sky.. "

"Wait...chasing! You mean Toshiro was running from a sword?!" Ichigo asked if his hearing is working right.

"I WASN'T RUNNING!!!" Toshiro is on the line, quickly retorting. "I made a tactical retreat! It was miscalucation!" Toshiro corrects him.

"Sounds like running.." Gojo snickered. He can heard some people in the background. The children.

"Oh god! Ink, your sword beat up a little kid!!!" Nobara yelled in the background.

"Damn. That's brutal. Even kids don't get a pass, do they?" Yuji added.

Ink gasped, "I'm so sorry, little guy! Are you okay-"

"SILENCE! I AM NOT A CHILD AND I AM NOT LITTLE!" Toshiro said angrily comically, his face flushed red while his lieutenant was snickering. Ink murmured a sorry. Shinji sighs and resumes his account,

"It didn't stop there it took some of Captain Shunsui Kyōraku's sake."

"Sake?" Ichigo questioned.

"Shunsui Kyoraku keeps saying that it was drinking it?" Rukia said.

"How does A SWORD drink sake?!" Ichigo said. "Don't ask me! I don't know how that makes sense either. Also! I got hit in the gut and it still continues! I tried to grab hold of it but that thing smacked me on the head! Oh, and it knocked out 2nd division Lituentant Ōmaeda on its way...by the way." Shinji gave his account.

"Ah shit...." Ichigo said while Gojo is so entertained by this.

"And then Captain Kenpachi found it and fought it!" Shinji added.

"Hold on...Kenpachi fought a freaking sword?!" Ichigo is flabbergasted as he had his hand on the top of head, as he can't believe this! How did that turned out?!

"Yes! And they kept going at it and we can't break them up, making a huge bigger mess! It went on for three hours until the sword fell to the ground and Kenpachi won as he had it in his hand. Saying something about the sword going to sleep or somethin. Now he wants to fight the owner!!" Renji yelled.

"Oh my god." Ichigo said, facepalming. If a sword gives that much trouble, he wonders how strong this Ink girl is!

"And now they are complaining, Ichigo!!" Rukia cried.

"Complaining?" Ichigo questioned. "About what???" About getting locked up or the mess they made?

Oh no...it's something completely unexpected.

"J- J-Just...listen to this shit, Kurosaki!!" Renji tells him as he turns his communicator into speaker mode. "Hey, you brats! Your sensei is on the other line!"

The voices of his students are heard.

"Hey Gojo-sensei! Sukuna says this is like heaven but there is no party, no food buffet, no music, and no games. No drinks! No refills! Heck! There are no fluffy clouds to jump on and everyone is grumpy here!! What kind of heaven is this?!" Ink complained. Gojo hearing this seems amused.

"Yeah it sucks major balls!" Yuji said in the background.

"There is no shopping here! Everything is the same! It's like we walked into a prison! I had to borrow their clothes to see if I can make them fashionable!" Nobara yelled.

"It's like a maze." Megumi commented. "There are no directions on where to go so we have to break down walls."

"It's easy to get lost but Sajin Komaura is really nice!" Taz said.

"What kinda scam you guys running here?!" Daichi yelled while Eito squawked in agreement. Ichigo would have sworn Renji popped a vein and his eye twitched at the audacity of these kids.

"You. Damn. Punks! You're in Seireitei!! Who the hell do you think you are?!!! What the hell is wrong with you Jujutsu Sorcerers?! DO YOU EVEN KNOW THE MESS YOU MADE?!" Renji yelled comically making Gojo snickering. He is worried about his students but it sounds like they're fine.

"Seireitei!?! What's that?! It sounds like a hotel resort!" Ink said. "Heck! Where are the hot springs?"

"Yeah! There are no spas or salons!" Nobara said.

"No swimming pools or lazy river!" Yuji yelled.

"No music, no clubs?!" Daichi shouted.

"Do you guys even HAVE hot springs!?" Yuji yelled.

"Are you guys serious right now?!" Rukia bawked.

"YEAH! " Yuji, Nobara, Ink, and Daichi exclaimed in unison while Taz stayed quiet and Megumi sighed rubbing his temples as he is so done with this shit....

"You...little shits!" He hissed, "Do we look like we have ONSENS around here?!" Renji retorted, looking at the Jujutsu sorcerers in disbelief! What is wrong with them?!

"There was two..." Megumi points out as Taz nods, "Uh-huh!" Making Renji and Rukia groan.

"You got to be kidding me..." Ichigo said hearing this..what the hell did he get himself into???

"Also Gojo-sensei! These Shinigami guys said that they're death gods and all but they worried about being killed and they can get sick?! What's up with that?! Megumi said they're Soul Reapers! They're already dead, right?! It doesn't make sense!"

"They're a race of souls, Ink. They're technically spirits like youkai." Gojo smiled, answering her.

"A race?" Ink questions, "What are they, spirit elves?!"

"WE'RE NOT ELVES!" They shouted. "AND WE'RE NOT YOKAI!"

"You're the ones saying you live a long time!" Ink retorted.

Urhara had to admit. This Ink is pretty funny while Ichigo just stared in disbelief. What the hell is he listening to?! This is straight-up stupid at this point. Why was he called here? Oh right. He is here to inform Gojo and have them pick to them up from the Soul Society or rather Ichigo has to pick them up. He thought it was serious but this sounds like a bunch of delinquents got caught by cops and they are complaining to immature parents like Gojo for example. Speaking of Gojo is snickering, finding this whole situation funny!

------

"HA! That's What you Soul Reapers get for underestimating Jujustu sorcery and making light of us!!" It's Sukuna said, startling everyone. The Jujutsu Sorcers were in their cells along with Ink and Taz.

"SHUT UP! YOU FREAKING FOUR EYES!" Renji said.

"MAKE ME PINEAPPLE! MAKE MY DAY!" Sukuna laughed.

"I WILL KICK YOUR ASS!" Renji threatened.

"Ha! You can't even take care of a measly sword! What makes you think you can take me on?! Keep dreaming, Shinigami!" Sukuna said. Oh great...now the King of Curses is starting fights.

"Stop fighting!" Megumi said. "Sukuna...you shouldn't convince Ink to call out her sword and now look!"

"Yeah...it was your idea that it might work if it got us out," Yuji said.

"Ha! That's what they get! They think they're better than us because they're Shinigami! I had the dragon brat to call out the sword to see if we can escape but this is way better than I expected! SERVES THEM RIGHT! " Sukuna is laughing.

"Wow...I didn't know the King of Curses would be the King of Petty." Nobara commented as Sukuna is still laughing evilly, making Renji twitch an eye.

"STOP LAUGHING!" Renji yelled. "AND YOU TWO ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS!" Pointing at Ink and Sukuna. Yeah, they're in trouble. Sukuna could care less but Ink doesn't want to hurt people by accidentally.

"We just wanted to get out. I didn't know Wyvern would do all that. I am really sorry about that!" Ink admitted honestly.

"What kind of sword goes around, destroys things, DRANK SAKE, beats up our Soul Reapers, and does all that?!" Rukia cried.

"Wait...Wyvern is drinking alcohol?!" Ink said making Sukuna laugh even harder to which Yuji covered his mouth. "Uh! I mean...sorry, sorry?!" Ink said.

"ICHIGO! COME GET THEM!" Renji yelled while Shinji said.

"Shit....this is going to be a pain in the ass!" Ichigo groaned while Gojo and Urahara are laughing.

------ Siertire, Soul Soicey ------

"If you ask me...this is way entertaining....then I thought. I never I get to see the King of Curses again after many years. A sword took my sake, that's the story I won't get tired of." Shunsui chuckled.

"Someone has to pay for this! It's going to take time to clean this up." Toshiro huffed.

"Hm." Byauka sips his tea.

Ink speaks up "I can pay for the damages!!" She said from her cell. Most of the Soul Repears look at her.

"And how are you supposed to do that?" Shinji questioned.

"I don't know...what do you guys take in currency?" Ink asked. "Cash? Gold coins? Uh....do you guys take souls?"

Nobara had to snort.

"We are not Hollows!" Toshiro is offended making a face.

"To answer your question, we don't use yen. We use Kan. it's the currency in the Soul Society." Shinji informs her. "Not that...you have any." He crossed his arms.

"Oh then! We can change the yen into kan! You guys have a currency exchange?" Yuji said. "Right?"

Soul Reapers sweatdropped.

"Yuji...I don't think these guys even have a currency exchange." Megumi sighed.

"Oh! Then I can call Vanity!" Ink smiled.

"Who?" Yuji said.

"Vanity can help, Ink?" Taz said.

"My dad. But he's in the demon world!" Ink looks towards the Soul Reapers who are now widening their eyes at her, "You guys can get to the demon world? Since you're Soul Reapers right? He probably has some money to pay for the damages."

The words....demon world make the Shinigami freeze. "Your dad..." Renji said.

"Is a..." Toshiro trails.

" a devil?" Shinji finished.

"Yep!" Ink smiles.

This got Sukuna laughing. Shunsui almost spills his drink as if it's the most amusing thing he heard all day! Byauka twitched a brow in annoyance.

"I mean! Vanity is a good guy and he might understand. I can talk to him." Ink said.

"We're....fine..." Shinjki said.

"Hey! I have a question! What happened to Wyvern?" Gojo asked from the other line.

Good question. That is what everyone wants to know. Kenpachi has it right?

"Just....you know where's Kenpachi?! He has the sword, right? Get him in here!" And few minutes pass, Kenpachi came over.

"Ha! The hell you calling me for?" Kenpachi said, annoyed.

"Where's the sword, Kenpachi?" Shinji asked.

"Sword? Ah...you mean that demon sword that belongs to the kid? By the way, where is she? I gotta fight her." Kenpachi said, grinning menacingly. The Jujutsu Socerers saw Kenpachi and with one look, they went hell no. Sukuna had to whistle...yeah..this guy is insanely strong. Ink would be screwed if she fought that guy.

"It's nice knowing you, Ink." Nobara pats her on the shoulder.

"Yeah! We had a good run!" Yuji laughed.

"We will remember you!" Daichi laughed.

"Indeed. You will be remembered!" Sukuna pitches in.

"HUH?!" Ink looks at them.

"You guys..." Megumi sighed as Taz sweatdropped while Kinie is snickering.

"Forget that! Where's the sword?!" Shinji asked, now frustrated.

"Right, right, right. Didn't you guys have it?" Kenpachi asked.

A record scratched. Or rather one of the stings on a biwa has broken..

"Wait what?" Shinji said as silence filled the room.

"What?" Toshiro said now upset.

"I came back from training and the sword was gone." Kenpachi yawned. "Thought you guys took it."

At this point, Seireitei is going into another lockdown.

"Someone call Ichigo Kurosaki and that damn Gojo!" Shinji said. "SOMEONE CALL THEM!"

Ink raised her hand and says, "I call Wyvern and-" "NO!" Soul Reapers told her. Hours later, Ichigo came over and picked them, and well...he must say...Ink's greatsword Wyvern reminds him of his own zanpukuto.

In the world of the living, Gojo is laughing his ass off when hearing this. "Wow! I wish I should of been there! I never thought you guys gave Soul Repears so much trouble. This is something I gotta brag about to the principal."

The kids will admit...it's a crazy adventure and one to remember for all time.

END

[judesmoonbeauty]

This was supposed to be a quick fluffy drabble inspired by a recent beach trip, but it quickly spiraled into an angsty fic instead so.....here you go. Sorry it's not shorter. WC: 3,028 Discord Writing Prompt: First Kiss CW: No happy ending ┃Being in the water Pairing: Jude Jazza x Reader Pronouns: You/They Tags: SWF ┃Angst ┃Revenge ┃Pining ┃First Kiss vs. Last Kiss Summary: ... and soon you’re pinned against a barnacle encrusted support beam, with Jude wrapping your legs around his waist, and twining your fingers with his as he holds them over your head. The waters churn around you both from the wake of sea vessels going to-and-fro in the port, salt stings your eyes, and your bodies.... Dividers: @.natimiles [Master List]

A pile of spent cigarettes lay at the feet of a couple well-polished black shoes whose owner stood on a dock at the port of London. Aimlessly staring into the horizon, Jude lingered there all morning chain smoking, until he finally pulled the last of his cigarettes from the silver case with his initials engraved on it.

“Why not get this one, Jude? The filigree is lovely, and you can have your initials engraved at the top?”

A distant memory surfaced of a shopping trip you accompanied him at a haberdashery when he need to replace his damaged cigarette case. It was just before he had tricked you into leaving Crown on a pseudo-mission by his design, and essentially barring your return to England..

He was convinced that although it was cruel, it was a necessary act because Jude had almost forfeited his resolve to push you away, and that surely would’ve led to your demise. That outcome was frightening to him. He wasn’t going to fail to protect another in his life*.* Fortunately, his scheme went off with out a hitch and he was able to avoid the worst possible outcome that had awaited you.

Affairs were arranged for you to kept from the country for a few years in comfort, until your face was forgotten by his enemies, and hopefully once it was time for you to return, you would’ve found a new life elsewhere and not bothered to comeback to England at all. He even had Ellis slip a blank check into your luggage with a brief note, hoping it would jump start your new life. It was money, but it was a small price to pay if it kept you safe.

“For the troubles Crown put you through. Write any amount.- Jude Jazza”

However, even though he regularly reviewed his account, you never cashed the check and he scorned the thought of how pathetic and sick it made him feel. Money was the only true form of sincerity after all, and it was like you were throwing his sincerity back in his face. That was seven months ago, and now it seemed like the only thing left to do, if you decided not to cash the check, was to let go of you completely. Jude pulls a letter from his breast pocket, it was still neatly kept as all his important documents are.

“Hah, buncha rubbish.”

Recalling the day you left on your faux-mission, Jude watched you say your goodbyes with Crown, hidden in the shadows at a distance. Despite what his heart told him to do, he trampled those feelings dead that day, and let you leave with out incident. Listening to the gentle wake of the waves thrash into the dock’s support beams, the hollow reverberations echoed like they were mimicking the hollowness inside his soul.

“Jude, are you expecting a delivery? I didn’t see one scheduled on the manifest? Oh, isn’t that the letter they had me deliver to you the day they left?”

With out answering Ellis back, Jude tossed your letter of well wishes into the sea.

“Jude, I won’t say don’t get injured, that’s an impossible to ask of you, but could you please try to not get injured as much as you usually do? I’m worried about you. I’ll see you again when I return from Crown mission. ”

Ellis lowered his head in sadness as he witnessed Jude coldly eradicate you completely from his life, but neither Ellis nor any other person ever know that Jude had been chain smoking that day to stay with what remnants he had of you for just a little longer. Feeding the ever starving, yearning heart that Jude cemented away with this final morsel. The letter floated on top the water and the overcast skies dimmed even further, just as Jude’s once vibrant eyes now lacked luster.

His brooding mood became worse when one of the squawking seagulls overhead promptly defecated a white chalky splotch on the shoulder of Jude’s jacket..

“Bloody hell. Ellis…..”

He ripped off his ruined jacket and shoved it into Ellis’ chest, who skillfully caught it with out tainting his own clothes.

“Burn it.”

“Sure, Jude.”

Salty sea air slipped into Jude’s mouth as he dropped his final cigarette like his was dropping a heavy curtain on his time with you, dividing him into the shadows and you into the world of the light. However, this was for the best and there was no room for miscalculation when it came to your life. He would not allow it to blow out unnecessarily quickly like a candle’s flame.

Ellis tapped Jude’s shoulder, “Um, Jude…..”

“What?”

“They’re back.”

“Hah? The hell are ya sayin’ nut job?”

Hard clacking heels hit the aged wooden planks of the dock from behind Jude, whomsoever footsteps they belonged to, they were aggressive. Please let it not be you.

“Jude Jazza!”

He closed his eyes when his silent wish was dashed to pieces. Listening to your seething call hit his ears feeling both like a soothing balm to his soul and a troublesome irritant. Jude turned around and with an arrogant smile, only to be met with a crumpled wad of paper being thrown into face.

“You bastard! A blank check? Sorry for your troubles? Really? Were you seriously trying to buy me off?”

Blitzing him with a series of rapid questions, he chuckled at your perturbed face, he loved that expression, so much so, that he wanted to do nothing but piss you off even more now. Picking up the wad of paper, he could tell that it was the blank check he’d given you as compensation.

“Ha, looks like you’re were smart to fig-“

“You can keep your damned money you arrogant prick!”

Thud! Splash!

Jude couldn’t even finish his sentence before you tackled him into the bay. The water was so cold it stung your body, and no sooner after you both broke through the surface and caught your breaths, Jude had grabbed your shoulders and shook you.

“Have ya lost your damned mind? Do ya know how dangerous the stunt you just pulled was?”

His hands grabbed your chin as he started to inspect you for injuries, lifting your arms, checking your hands, and moving your hair out of the way to check your neck. Determined to remained focus on the reason for your visit, you swat his hand out of the way.

“Why? That would be a good thing for you, wouldn’t it? If I died, I wouldn’t be a nuisance to you anymore, and you’d not have to worry about keeping me under house arrest. I’d be a huge financial savings for you!”

You didn’t mean to cause a scene, but it couldn’t be helped either, months of anguish that had been simmering finally gushed out like a geyser. Jude pushed you under the dock to avoid the stare of onlookers. That’s when you saw the a crumpled letter float by you, and when you picked it up out of curiosity, your eyes widened that it was your note you’d left him before you departed England.

Jude watched you expectantly, waiting for a barrage of questions as to why your crumpled letter was in the ocean, but was surprised when you simply dropped it back into the water like it didn’t matter to you anymore. There was a certain finality of your movements that he didn’t like, but he didn’t have long to ponder that thought before it was answered.

“I just came to return the check. I don’t want nor need your money. Don’t insult me like that ever again. I’m leaving. Ellis, are you there?”

Ellis’ head popped over the side of the dock, “I’m here.”

“Will you help pull me up please?”

“Sure thing.”

Swimming towards Ellis you stretch out your dripping wet hand to grab a hold of his, when a scowling visage grabbed your wrist and pulled you back towards himself instead.

“Let go,” you hissed.

“Shuddup. Ellis, I gave you task now do it.”

“Oh….right. Um, I’m sorry, but…..” Ellis apologized to you with large twilight eyes filled with regret.

“It’s fine, please do as he says.”

Ellis pauses for a moment before he leaves you both under the dock to continue your conversation, and soon you’re pinned against a barnacle encrusted support beam, with Jude wrapping your legs around his waist, and twining your fingers with his as he holds them over your head.

The waters churn around you both from the wake of sea vessels going to and fro in the port, salt stings your eyes, and your bodies are chilled to the bone, but in the face of him staring at you and inching closer and closer to you in silence, none of that mattered.

Jude’s grip tightens and the silence poured between you both is broken when his cold lips that had been grazing yours finally pecked you softly as soon as he sensed what he thought was your quivering anticipation of his touch.

Chu……..chu…chu.

His lips carefully met yours teasing them sweetly, it was so different from the hard forceful kiss he gave you the time he pulled you from the river. Every emotion he felt about you deep from inside was being charged into these kisses, and when his tongue gently nudged your lips for permission to enter, and you granted it - not out of weakness, but from something else. This is what you’d always craved from him, his true feelings, his love, his heart, his vulnerability, and now you held it in the palm of your hands.

His tongue tangled with yours and the heat from inside your mouths overwhelmed the salty bitterness from the wet kisses. Gaining a sense of security, he relaxed his grip from your hand and grabbed your thighs, and you both tilted your chins to angle your mouths for deeper, more lewd kisses. Sounds of both your moans echoed under the dock and finally breaking a part, you both rest your foreheads against each other.

“Let’s go, or we’ll get sick,” he said and you nodded in compliance.

After making it back a top the port’s walk way, you both rang out your dripping wet clothes, “I’ll escort you home.”

“What?”

“I’ll take ya home to change ‘n then we’ll have Roger check ya out to make sure everything’s alright.”

Hesitating to respond to him, you finish ringing out your clothes, and then politely decline his assistance.

“Thank you, but you needn’t escort me home, it’s quite far from here actually.”

“Whaddya mean? It’s just across town. That shack ya live in above that bakery or whatever.”

“Shack?” You mumble at his slight towards your previous living quarters.

“Oh, did ya get a new place when ya came back? Tell me where ‘n I’ll take ya,” Jude said he was examining the damage done to the book in his holster.

“I think you’ve misunderstood something, Jude. I’m not staying in England, my ship sails late this afternoon.”

His attention locks onto you in disbelief. That must be a lie. Jude closes the distance between you both so that the tips of your toes touch the other, and he stares at you in silence waiting for further explanation.

“I told you, I was here only to return your blank check.”

“Ha! That’s rich. You’re crazy if ya think I’m lettin’ ya escape my grasp a second time. No way in hell,” Jude grabs your forearms tightly, and you stare at him in disdain for his conceited presumptuousness. He often tells you not to be conceited or to think that he’d ever be willing to put his body on the line for you, but he fails to recognize when he becomes full of himself, and it was this fault that drove you not to return to him.

“Escape a second time? I never ran from you in the first place. Did you forget that you coerced me into a farce mission to drive me away from you and Crown?”

He started to refute, but silenced himself when he had no ground to stand on. You’re right, it was my doin’ but…

“I did what I did to protect ya….because - because I…..I love ya. Dontcha understand that?”

He was finally being honest and genuine with his feelings. Watching him fight his natural inclination to bury those feelings deep in his core, and expose them to you was truly satisfying and beautiful, so beautiful because…..

“And? Do you honestly think I’m so thick in the head that I don’t grasp that much? I know why you did it, but what does that matter?”

His sorrowful face quickly soured since it seemed unthinkable that your love for him had washed out so quickly, that his feelings you tried to pry from his calloused and scarred heart meant nothing to you anymore.

“Listen closely Jude. This is a concept you should understand very well, since you were the one who taught this to me after all.”

Straightening your spine, you grab him by the chin bringing yourself nose to nose with him. The thought of kissing him, being touched by him, or being loved by him - they were all figments of hope that you decided to leave drowning in the watery grave beneath you. What happened under the dock, was what you allowed to happen and now everything was almost complete, now you just needed to give him something to mull over for the rest of his life in regret…..

“Why should I have to put my heart on the line for you? Why should I have to risk my happiness and well-being for you? Why should I have to forgive what you’ve done?”

He was stunned in silence, his face skewed stupidly as he didn’t expect you to ever utter those words, but he was further floored by what you said next.

“Is it because you’re a villain? Is it because you’re cursed to suffer a terrible fate? Because of your wealth and power? Should I have to forgive the months of pain and yearning, or of being confined in a foreign country, in house where I was alone, simply because you now want to be honest with how you’ve felt about me all this time?”

You grip his jaw tighter and stepping forward an unexpectedly strong opponent against him, and for the first time in a very very long time, Jude took a step back. You gritted your teeth an fought back tears that wanted to spill from your eyes, because you would never ever let yourself cry in front of Jude Jazza again.

“Three months. I cried every day for three months, I could barely stomach food. In the fourth month, when my tears finally dried up, I thought of how I should execute my revenge, and started to look for a way to make it back to England. A month ago, I was able to board a ship in secret and sailed here to meet you. I’ve done nothing, but think of how I wanted to cast you aside the way you did me.”

The hand that gripped his chin slid down to his neck, and tightened on it like he did to you so many times in the past. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he stared you in disbelief, your audacity seemed to be stoked even more since he last saw you.

“You took away my right of choice to stay at Crown. And whether you returned my feelings or not, I was happy to stay there, and I never once asked you to protect me! It’s as simple as that.”

Every moment you spent with him was a blessing and whether he loved you or not, you just wanted him to be healthy and happy, you never wanted this world to turn with out him on it. All you needed was to know he was alive and living his life with out apology as he always done. However, for ripping you away from all you held dear, for taking away choices that weren’t his to take, to be lied to and tricked and avoided - there was a limit even for the one you loved so dearly.

Grabbing him by his collar and yanking his ear up to your mouth and whisper to him, your voice laced with apathetic resignation.

“Be pleased, Jude. You’re getting what you wanted since the time we met, my disappearing from your world, to live in the light……or maybe I shall go dwell in an even darker place than you do now? Who knows, maybe I’ll even become an enemy to Crown one day, and you’ll get to kill me yourself?”

Shoving Jude with as much power as you could muster, he fell backward on his bottom and watching you walk out of his life like a figment of his imagination, and like the flicker of a flame from a candle going out, you disappeared.

True to your word, every day for the rest of his life he relived the death of your love on the dock that day, your words echoing inside him from the moment he woke up and into the depths of the very fabric of his dreams, driving him mad. Go to a darker place? Become an enemy to Crown? What did any of it mean? Who were you with and where were you?

Thinking back to the day he saved you from the river, your first kiss with him, he should’ve kissed you more sweetly, and held you more closely. He should’ve never let you go that day. As Jude was tormented by such thoughts day in and day out, the poison of your vengeful last kiss sank so deeply into the marrow of his bones, that if he ever lay eyes on you again, surely you’d both fall asleep in death together.

@ichigostellaglynn @atelierquinn @mrslelouch

[spacexseven]

5 with Chuuya?

to be honest i wanted to make chuuya a lot meaner :>

cw: yandere character, kidnapping

prompt list by @.drabbledealer | this drabble is a part of my mini prompt event !

"you got further last time," a hollow voice comes from somewhere—above you? you can't really tell. your head is pounding painfully and your eyes are tightly shut in an attempt to appease the thumping in your head. there's something streaking down your face—you pray it's not blood.

what went wrong? you were pretty confident, having reached your...what attempt was this? the fifth, perhaps? by now, you thought you had seen all of chuuya's traps and tricks, but you obviously hadn't accounted for the obvious, blinded by your desperation—all he had to do was put out a foot to send you stumbling and then put you to sleep. chuuya was an executive in the port mafia, after all, and they didn't hand out that title loosely.

he was right, too. the last time you made it out to the streets. today, you had barely gotten past the front door. maybe he wanted you to try, purposely leaving the keys out where you could see them, coaxing you into a dangerous misconception that he was beginning to become careless. as you finally force your heavy eyelids open, you can faintly make out the sight of chuuya's familiar figure outlined in a faint red. he was standing on the ceiling, that show-off.

"try it again, won't you?" he scoffs, his voice echoing throughout the entire room, "i'll make sure the very idea of running has you trembling."

your eyes shut closed again, finding it too hard to keep open. his words stick to your mind, growing louder and louder. was that really true? could you never leave?

"and after all the kindness i've shown you," you can hear the sharp noises his shoes make as they hit the surface, slow but menacing. even that noise causes fear to stir inside you, "this is how you repay me?"

before you can even try to respond—to beg for mercy, to spit at him; you're not sure what kind of response exactly—he's right in front of you again. a strong hand buries itself in your hair, and he's staring right at your soul. you can't see him yet, but you can feel his burning, livid gaze.

"i suppose, if you were to apologize and promise me you won't try to do something so stupid again, i might let you off this time. what do you say?"

you realize, with a sinking feeling, that you're genuinely considering his offer. did you have any other choice? the opportunity to earn back his softer side had presented itself to you and it was so tempting. you would be lying if you said you didn't prefer that chuuya over the one scowling menacingly at you now. you'd keep to your word, too. there really was no point in trying to escape again—no matter what you tried, he would always win.

[luv-fedya-archived]

bitter longing

Notes : not me writing stuff instead of working on requests/actual things i need to finish ahaahahahhhahhah, but have this drabble in the meantime :D

Pairing : chuuya x reader

Genre : angst. pure angst.

Synopsis : even the most loyal man would crumble under certain circumstances. and for chuuya, those circumstances were you

Warnings : n/a

Word count : 373

“I can’t take this anymore.” was all you had said. Though that was not quite true. But he was too stubborn to admit that. To admit that you leaving him was his fault.

How had he not seen the signs?

They looked painfully obvious now, and Chuuya wondered how he could have been so ignorant, so blind. You had asked, no, begged him to leave the port mafia, yet your pleas fell upon deaf ears. How could he have anyways? To ask that of him was to ask him to slit his throat himself. He would be digging his own grave, yet a part of him couldn’t help but agree.

It would have been better for the both of you, some conscious part of him whispered, only serving to strike regret deeper into his heart. Yet through all this, he felt unreasonably angry at you. You, despite what the situation had been, abandoned him. Did your promise to him mean nothing? Your promise that you and him would stay together, even though when the world collapses? So why, why did you have to do it? Sure, your circumstance certainly wasn't perfect, but now, you had gone ahead and made it more miserable for him. He hates you, what you did to him, but also what he brought upon himself. If only he had agreed, if only he took that risk. But it was all too late now. You were gone, and that was irreversible.

His heart felt hollow, even more so than when you first appeared in his life, a shining beacon meant for guiding him out of this intricate labyrinth of fog. But now, that light was gone, and along with it the brightness you had brought to his life.

So now, imagine the pain he felt when he saw you, with none other than the members of the armed detective agency, especially that Dazai. Seeing him prance around you evoked an anger he hasn’t felt in a long time. Upon your face there would be a smile. A smile reserved for him and only him, now spread out for the world to see.

And so you were truly gone, leaving nothing behind except your lingering memory, a bitter longing in his heart.

-25/10/21

[alch3mic]

in between. (drabble series)

chapter one (happiness.)

huntsman!sans x gender neutral reader. 3k+ word count.

please be advised for themes of stalking, obsessive behavior, depression and apathic feelings.

* thank you all so much for 400 followers! this is the first of my four chapter series about my fairy tale au boys, taking place ‘in between’ their stories. our first chapter focuses on huntsman, my version of classic sans, and if you’d like to read more about him feel free to check out his full fic here on ao3 (just be sure to mind the tagging) or his tag here on my tumblr! thank you all so much again and i hope you enjoy!

What did it mean to be...

...happy..?

....

...He really wasn't quite sure.

Happiness was.. an emotion.

Something that you were suppose to feel in a positive moment in life.

Something that made you smile.

Or filled you with a warmth.

Or joy.

Or... something..

It certainly filled you with.. something...

And in the end, it always left just as quickly as it came.

Happiness was never meant to stay long, after all.

It was fleeting, like the soft caress of a breeze against your face. Just gentle enough to make itself known before vanishing, leaving you chasing after that breeze wishing it would grace your cheek once more. And then when your legs finally gave out, the happiness would just sail far, far away out of your reach.

Then you'd be alone..

And... aware... 

Of just how empty you were without it.

...

Perhaps that's why so many people chased after it?

To fend off that overwhemingly empty feeling.

It just seemed foolish to him to try to pursue something so temporary.

It's not like you can hold happiness in your hands or ask it to stay.

You'd work your ass off just for those few brief moments of bliss before it'd slip right through your fingers, and then all you'd be left with is the reminder...

And the pain...

...

He just didn't see the point in putting in that kind of effort anymore for something so momentary.

..But maybe that was just him being lazy...

It was pointless to think about, so he tried to push the thought of happiness far from his mind.

And yet no matter how much he tried.. it was hard to not think about happiness.

He was surrounded by it.  

Constantly, everywhere he went, he could see the signs of happiness in others.

He could hear it in passing conversations as people talked about the future. He could hear it when they talked about their families, or their lives, or their loves ones. He could see it in the smiles of other monsters. He could see it in their joy as they lived their lives each and every day surrounded by friends, or when they received exciting news, or when they finally succeeded at something new.

He saw it when they laughed. 

And when they celebrated. 

And sometimes, even when they cried.

And especially now that they were here on the surface...?

Well, it's not like it had been easy being up here. Humans were absolutely terrible, giving them scraps to live off of and calling themselves 'generous' for even tolerating their presence in their city. They gave them deteriorating buildings and minimum wage jobs and then turned around and called it 'charitable'. Look at them, opening up their kind hearts to these monsters and then turning around and treating them like garbage.

But.. monsters were happier than ever, getting to see the stars at night and the sun rise in the morning. They were trying to make lives for themselves up here, and for awhile it seemed like that happiness would never end..

Now that the shine had faded from living topside for few years and the reality that this city was nothing but a hellhole finally set in.. everyone was left chasing around that feeling of happiness like their lives depended on it.

...Maybe it did for some people...

It did once.... for him.

There were moments in his life where Sans thought he had been happy.

When a positive emotion sprung forth from his chest making him feel.. something.

..Whether or not it was actually happiness he... really couldn't say.

Still, those moments were fleeting and far between, and all of the space between those supposed moments of 'happiness' were...

Long and painful. 

They were empty. 

Hollow. 

Devoid of anything but... apathy.

For himself.

For his home.

For those around him.

Others would smile at him, and he'd do the same. It was just a poor imitation at first of what was really suppose to be there, but soon he perfected it. Just the right amount of easy going and relaxed, with just a dash of humor. 

..That smile became a mask, just as empty and hollow as the skeleton who wore it.

He too had spent a lot of time chasing around that emotion of happiness, all for those few seconds of bliss where he felt something, rather than this aching hollowness that consumes every part of his soul. But.. those moments were so short-lived that it was only natural that it left him wanting more, desperate for the split seconds where he felt normal.

Where.. he finally felt like everyone else around him.

He'd be.. 'happy'.. and then.. 

It'd leave.

And then.. the pain would come.

The hateful, soul-aching pain of feeling nothing after finally having the chance to feel something.

Well... it was no wonder he began to take comfort in feeling nothing.

Feeling the constant pain without any relief just eventually made him feel numb to it all. It couldn't hurt him anymore if it was always present. He could no longer be tempted into feeling something, because he knew before long it'd all disappear.... leaving him alone.. with nothing but his own thoughts.. and the pain..

.....

It's.. only natural to give up at some point, right?

After all, someone like him wasn't meant to feel happiness.

Someone like him wasn't meant to feel joy.

Someone like him wasn't meant to feel anything at all.

Why else would would he have been born like this if it wasn't the case?

He was meant to be alone, filled with with absolutely nothing but emptiness in this cold and gray world.

....

Happiness.

That really was life's biggest joke, wasn't it?

Which meant someone like him who couldn't feel happiness at all.. 

...Must've been the punchline.

...

So why..

..Why.. was he..?

....

It had just been a few moments in a grocery store on the other side of town.

Just a few measly seconds... and yet it had felt like a whole lifetime.

He completely lost his sense of self, staring at the human who was just a short walk away in the produce isle. You were looking down at some apples, examining their exteriors for any blemishes before placing them in a bag and adding them into your cart. 

You.. didn't even say anything. 

Stars, you didn't even look at him! 

He was too far away, crouched beside some lettuce and holding a box of spaghetti noodles to his chest to bring back home for dinner.. and yet...

Yet..

...

Something.. 

...

He felt...

Something...

....

For the first time in years, he actually felt something.

....

"WHY IN THE WORLD DID YOU BUY SO MANY APPLES?"

A great question.

He hadn't even realized he grabbed them until check out, having nabbed all the apples you put back... and then grabbing the ones that those apples touched too...

..For.. some reason..

"heh. couldn't help myself i guess. they just looked so apple-ling." 

That was enough to let the subject matter drop, leaving Sans alone with a storm of thoughts brewing in his head about why exactly he was compelled to buy so many apples.

It's not like he particularly liked apples.

...Then again it's not like he hated them either.

....

...Did you.. like apples?

You had inspected them rather closely, and looking at them now in the kitchen in the dead of night with nothing but the hum and bright florescent light of the fridge beside him, there were a few noticeable brown spots.

Small and subtle, but definitely there. 

It was only slightly damaged, but still a perfectly good apple.

..Maybe you were just really enthusiastic about your apples?

Maybe you needed them to be pristine for something.

Like a pie?

Or maybe just to eat.

..Maybe you were a perfectionist.

...

....Or maybe you didn't like damaged goods.

....

He.. didn't quite understand why that last thought had bothered him so much at the time, quickly biting into the apple to quell the unpleasantness that brewed in his chest.

...

It tasted sour..

...

He also... didn't quite understand why he was doing..

This..

...

Maybe it's because he had spent so many sleepless nights thinking about that feeling.

It was like.. nothing he had ever experienced before.

Strong.

Compelling.

It's like he's been asleep for so long and now his soul finally snapped awake, a careful buzz in his chest he never realized until now.

It was like his body was moving on it's own.

There weren't any thoughts clouding his head, no conscious telling him what to do or where to go.

He was just.. trying... 

For.. some.. strange reason.

....

It was quiet, the sun having already set and the streetlights buzzing to life, casting a harsh yellow glow onto the buildings and sidewalks below. He had spent several weeks.. trying.. to catch a glimpse of you again at the same grocery store, desperately chasing that feeling that had sprung forth when he laid his eyelights on you. He tried his best to ignore the pull of his soul, telling him to go back, because the pain that had followed after that night while he sat alone on the kitchen floor surrounded by damaged, sour apples was..

Excruciating..

Yet he went anyways, despite knowing what would come after seeing you again. For awhile he went in at the same time every day after porting over to this side of town, looking up and down the isles for the human who had made the world stand still. 

For the one who...

Made him feel.. something.

....

Days turned into weeks, and a part of him began losing hope of ever seeing you again. He even tried to change up his strategy, coming in at different times each day no matter what, even on weekends, and each and every time he'd leave empty handed.

...Except for a few more apples...

...

It was.. the only thing he knew about you.

Every part of him hoped that maybe the apples he would grab.. were ones that you had touched to inspect.

...

And... that's exactly when Sans knew he had a problem.

Here he was, trying to chase that something again.

If it was happiness he felt that day.. well he couldn't really tell for sure.

It had been so brief and so.. overwhelming that it made his head spin just thinking about it, but he longed so desperately to feel it again. He wanted those few brief seconds where he felt something else than just emptiness!

He just wanted a chance..

A chance to.. say something to yo-!

"Excuse me!"

...

..His soul nearly stopped.

He was far away at the end of the isle with his hood up and his hands neatly stuffed into his pockets, trying to make himself look invested in the cereal boxes in front of him.

A voice rang out... one that.. made his soul tremble.

And when he turned..

...

There.. you were...

..And, for the second time in his life, Sans' whole world stopped as he watched you politely talk to an elderly woman at the other end of the isle.

He.. didn't know what to do with himself.

He was completely frozen on the spot as he watched you wave to the woman and approach, closer and closer, your eyes perusing the same colorful boxes of cereal he has been trying to busy himself with.

...

Something..

...C'mon you numbskull, say something!

He had been camping this spot for weeks after he had first caught a glimpse of you, and now here you were!

Finally you were...! Here...!

And you were...

So..

...Captivating..

...

You stopped, just a few steps away from him, turning and carefully glancing over some of the cereal boxes on the shelf before you.

He could see you clearer than ever before. 

You looked soft.. and kind. 

The air around you smelled of fruit and flowers, and you lightly tapped your cheek as you contemplated the choices on the shelf before you. 

Your voice had been so gentle too.. he..

He wanted to talk to you.

He wanted to say something.

He wanted for you to.. talk to him too..

In that same gentle tone..

...

He turned a bit, a whole flood of words prepared to leave his mouth to catch your attention..

...

But nothing came.

...

He said nothing, his soul buzzing so loudly in his chest it was drowning everything else out as he stared at you. That something was brewing in his chest again and he was paralyzed on the spot from the overwhelming feeling..

...

And you grabbed a box..

...

And placed it into your cart.

....

And turned and walked away.

......

"......p-please.."

The rest of the words didn't come. 

You never could've heard them anyways, they barely came out to more than a whisper, his hand finally reaching out to grasp nothing but empty air because you were already long gone.

And so too, was that feeling.

It slipped, right through his fingers, like a gentle breeze that had lightly brushed his cheek and made itself known..

Before leaving him alone.. with nothing but the pain of feeling empty once more.

.....

No...

..He just.. 

...couldn't take it anymore.

...

So he ran.

Down the isle, through the produce section and past the registers, not even stopping as a human shouted at him on his way out.

Where...

Where did you..?!

The soft scent of flowers and fruit barely graced his nose, and he quickly took off in the same direction it came from.

You.. couldn't have gotten far..

..Please..

Please...!

"please don't go!"

He couldn't do this again.

The pain would be too much! 

He'd..!

He'd break.

He'd shatter.

He'd.. turn to dust!

He didn't want to be alone again!

Not like this..!

...It...!

It was all enough to nearly make him scream, and he wanted to at the top of his non-existent lungs as he thought he finally lost you, heavy breaths passing his teeth as he tried to ventilate his magic. His bones trembled and shook as he clutched his chest, the tears threatening to leave his sockets as he stood alone on those darkened streets, the yellow glow of streetlights his only companion.

"please... don't... leave me..!"

He didn't want to be alone anymore.

He didn't want to feel empty.

He didn't want to be damaged and sour.

He just... 

..wanted to feel...

...Happiness again...

...

His legs gave out, leaving him crouched alone on the sidewalk as he tried to quell the sob that threatened to break loose. His soul twisted and churned in a fit of agony that threatened to have him falling apart, desperately calling out..

To you.

To the human who he didn't even know the name of.

...Just once more..

Please.. just once more he wanted to see you!

He had so much he wanted to say.

He had so many questions for you!

Who were you?

What was your name?

Why... 

Why did you.. make him feel this way?

Please.. just.. one more chance!

Just one more..!

"Wait!"

....

No that..

That can't-

"I said wait, please!"

....

He looked up, much farther down the street as something white darted around the corner, and soon after you were stumbling behind it.

A white dog paused and quickly turning around, their tail wagging as you caught up out of breath.

"You little-!" you huffed, puffing your cheeks in a bit of irritation before letting out a small sigh. "Please give me back my key you cute little troublemaker. Pleeeeaaaasseee."

The dog yipped once, tail still wagging but they remained unmoving as you let out another huff.

"Alright, fine," you said, reaching into the brown paper bag of groceries you were carrying. You pulled out a small container of cookies and squatted to the ground, pulling one out and offering it towards the dog. "Fair trade?"

It was, as a distinctive clink rang out after something hit the ground, and the dog quickly rushed over to you to take the cookie from your grasp. You giggled, and even took a moment to gently pet the dog's head before standing up and grabbing your key.

Your eyes wandered up to glance around the empty street, nothing but a few passing cars to catch your attention before you turned back to the dog.

"Try to keep yourself out of more trouble, okay?"

...Every word you spoke rang into his soul. 

Soft and gentle... a warmth that washed over his cold bones like a ray of sunshine.

You didn't even sound angry at the dog even after it took your key...

He.. couldn't see what you were doing anymore after he ported into an alleyway, clutching tightly on to his sweater as a few more ragged breaths passed through his teeth while his soul spiraled out of control.

This was... his chance.. wasn't it?

To do.. something.

As to what exactly, he wasn't sure. 

But you were here.. and he..

...

Followed.. quietly behind you.

That storm of thoughts brewing in his head all but silenced, his body just moving forward of it's own will as he watched a fair distance behind you. 

Out of the alleyway.

Past the dog.

And.. all the way home.

You never looked back the whole way, and it wasn't long before you turned and headed up the walkway to a quaint looking apartment building. Despite how much he wanted to keep following.. he instead slipped into another alleyway as he watched you head inside, vanishing away from sight inside.

....

And... he was alone again.

....

Except for...

....

"...were you captivated by them too?" 

His words were quiet as he glanced down to the white dog who happily wagged their tail by his feet. They yipped as Sans crouched down and lightly stroked it's head, and the dog seemed more than happy as it leaned into his touch for a moment. 

The pain was back since you vanished from his sight.. but somehow it felt duller than before.

Much more manageable.

He still hadn't said anything to you, and you probably still didn't even knew he existed but..

Here was an opportunity.

A chance.

"thank you," he said quietly to the dog, standing up. "you should probably head home now though, hm? it seems like.." 

The small smile on his face had faded, eyesockets narrowing carefully as hugged the brick wall beside him a bit closer and peeked out, his gaze drifting from the apartment complex..

..to the shadow in another alleyway across the street that had been creeping behind you most of your way home.

He clenched his fists tightly, the bones in his hand creaking as another strange feeling overcame his soul, watching as the human mugger hesitated for a moment before stepping out alleyway into the open. 

"....there are wolves out this late at night."

....

....

...

..

"Wow. You know for someone who says they can't bake this pie looks amazing!"

"..thanks," he said, lightly flushing as you smiled at him. 

He had carefully handed the bowl over to you as you sat on the couch, the apple pie still warm with a small scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side lightly melting. Your eyes practically sparkled and Sans’s soul sang in response, loving the way they shined.

"Thank yo-" you began, before giggling at the white furball in your lap who was roused from their nap by the scent of cinnamon and vanilla. "Hey! This isn't for you!"

That didn't stop the dog from letting out a yip, making the both of you laugh as Sans lifted up the blanket and sat beside you. He scooted just a bit closer, enjoying the warm you provided as the two of you snuggled on the couch while the tv played. The dog moved, wiggling to sit on both of your laps while shooting Sans a big pair of puppy dog eyes at his bowl of pie.

"ya heard them, chance. none for you."

Chance whined, sliding back over into your lap as Sans snickered.

"oh i see. no longer the favorite, am i?"

"Aww, it's okay," you said, leaning over to gently kiss his cheek. "You'll always be my favorite."

....

This was.. enough for him.

Being here, with you, warm under some blankets as the two of you happily ate some apple pie together.

...It was sweet... and.. it was enough.

Enough for that funny, fluttering feeling to find it's way right back into his soul.

Your smile.

Your words.

Your love.

That was happiness, for him.

And... 

He would gladly do anything to protect it.

[sinsbymanka]

I’m am dying right now. The wonderful, talented, amazing, BEST ARTIST EVER @schoute ​​finished this commission for me today and I am just so. fucking. happy. I am crying. It is beautiful. These are my babies, Maria Cadash and Varric Tethras, from the Selkie!AU Depths of Desire. I love them so much. I love this so much. I cannot gush over it enough and I can’t stop staring. THANK YOU SCHOUTE.

There is a drabble that goes along with it! I’m gonna put it under the cut, enjoy.

Honestly, they needed to be getting back to the Belle Bianca. The sun, dipping below the horizon, still left enough light to see, but it had turned into shades of pink and orange, bright when it hit the water and scattered into golden flecks, but casting the shore of the cove in deep violet shadows. 

But when Maria demanded to check one more of the little hidden harbors on this island before they made their way back, he acquiesced without much more than a complaint that if they ended up sleeping on the shore, she'd be responsible for gathering firewood. It had done nothing to change her mind, but had lifted the corner of her lips into a ghost of a smile.

He so rarely got any of those that he greedily shoved that little smirk into the box within his chest where he kept all the rest of his fond memories of her. The ones she would be startled to find, like their first meeting when she held him at sword point, and the ones she may suspect he cherished, in particular their shared laughter in the marketplace of Antiva city, when it tapered out and they both looked at each other, alone, lost in the moment. 

Sometimes he wondered if magic was the only thing binding them together, but it was a treacherous thought. One based more on wistful wishing than cold, hard reality. So, Varric banished it, and kept nothing but these stolen moments for himself.

"Right." Maria directed, setting her own oars down. "Here's good."

Varric finally dropped his own oars, the muscles in his arms taut and sore. He rubbed at his bicep surreptitiously while Maria stood up, careful of the rocking dinghy beneath her feet. 

He wanted to watch far more than he wanted to admit but this was the third dive of the day, and he knew what the command would be before she even said it. Instead of savoring the glow of her in twilight, he squeezed his eyes shut immediately. "Alright Princess, I'll just work on my tan up here." 

She laughed, but Varric couldn't even open his damn eyes to watch the amusement dance in her eyes. He heard the rustle of clothing, cotton being discarded, the clatter of weapons she didn't need, but felt safer carrying. 

His vivid imagination conjured what she looked like, dipped in golden sunlight. In his mind, the freckles on her cheeks mirrored the ones dotting her shoulders and chest. Her plump lips parted around his name, arms reaching to pull him flush against her curves…

The soft splash of Maria vanishing beneath the sparkling water drug him from his reverie in the nick of time. He opened his eyes, a hollow pang of grief replacing the lust in his chest while he looked at the ripples where she vanished. He brushed his hand harshly against his face and let out a ragged breath. 

She didn't belong to him.

A mantra repeated near constantly, especially when he found himself alone in her glorious company. In truth, she was his captive, and Varric…

Varric hated it. He hated that she felt so bound against her will, detested that circumstances kept him from setting her free into the sea where she belonged.

Yet, despite his best efforts, he found himself wishing more and more that she belonged with him. 

At least she no longer hated his guts. He’d take the small victory where he could find it. 

He tried to pull his mind to other things, compiling list of needed supplies for the ship the next time they made port, which harbormasters needed the requisite bribes to turn a blind eye to their stolen cargo. Then, of course, the business of checking in with his contacts to see if any hint of Bartrand, the bastard, surfaced while they were at sea. 

Nothing could darken his mood more quickly than thoughts of his backstabbing brother. He opened his eyes, glaring at the shore, but the deepened shadows there jolted him.

Sweet Andraste, how much time had he spent ruminating in his thoughts? His eyes skipped over the still waters of this hidden natural harbor, looking for a trace of Maria beneath the surface. Although he knew she could stay below far longer than any of his crew, there had to be a limit even for her. She had to be approaching it, if not even surpassing it. 

So where was she?

His stomach twisted into knots and he reached up without thought to shuck his own coat, although the thought of saving Maria from drowning was laughable. His fingers still dropped to the sash he tucked his pistols into, quickly untying the knots while his eyes roamed. 

Before he could remove his boots, the surface of the water broke next to the dinghy with a tiny redhead heaving for breath, tossing slimy mounds of something into the bottom of the boat. 

And, suddenly, shaking her seemed the better option. He nearly collapsed in relief while she impatiently pushed wet strands of crimson back from her face. She blinked water from her gray eyes and frowned, puzzled, in his direction. "Why are you taking your clothes off?" She panted.

"I told you I was working on my tan." He lied, flippant and casual, before toeing the mess of saltwater and suspiciously glowing slime with his boot. "Is this what you were looking for?"

"Yes." She answered, hanging onto the side of the dinghy. "Deep mushrooms. Do we have time for me to haul up more?"

No, not really, but he simply sighed. "If you think you need more, Princess." 

Silence greeted him, which was never a good sign when Maria was concerned. He looked back at her to find her face soft and introspective. She'd told him, once, there was more to this connection of theirs than the horrible chain of command he could yank at any time. Proven in multiple ways, like how she seemed to know where he was at any given time, or the way he ached sometimes in the middle of the night and would leave his manuscript to find her in nothing but her shift and tears pacing the deck. 

He feared, sometimes when she paused to look at him, she really could puzzle out what he was thinking if she just tried hard enough. 

What he didn't expect next was the wicked grin that stretched her lips and caused his heart to ache with her unexpected loveliness. She glowed, the sun painted her slick skin with the same gold brush that the Maker used to color his sky, water slicked her lashes to points and brought a flush of pink under her freckled face. 

"You were going to dive in and rescue me, weren't you?" She taunted, pressing closer to the side of their tiny vessel. "Cause I was taking too long for your ulcers?"

"Wouldn't that be a laugh?" Varric asked, trying far too hard to maintain that casual facade. "My ass drowning while you dug out whatever this shit is?" 

Another beat of silence while her smile faded and she considered him again, but without the trace of wariness that usually lines her features. "Varric?"

She hardly ever called him by his name, it was almost always captain or surfacer in various tones of scorn. The sound of it made him lean precariously over the edge of the boat, closer to those pink lips. "All ears and chest hair, Princess."

One of her hands clung to the edge of the wooden hull, but the other lifted to his jaw, tipping his chin down with the slightest pressure. Varric's breath caught in his chest when her eyes fastened on his lips. 

His hand moved without his permission, reaching to cradle the sleek hair plastered to her head, heavy and cool in his palm, drawing her closer when she pulled herself up, a pull too strong to resist. 

He chanced leaning forward further and was graced by the gentle brush of her lips against his, tender, sweet, hesitant. He froze, unwilling to break the moment, even as he ached to pull her closer. 

Maria. Maria kissing him. Maybe he died of boredom waiting for her in this boat all day after all, and this was his reward from the Maker.

She pulled back too soon, eyes closed so he couldn't see any of the emotions he felt certain shined in them. 

"Maria…" he began, uncertain where was going.

"Thank you." She breathed quickly, releasing her hold on him and the boat at the same time, and vanishing beneath the sea in a swirl of bubbles.

He didn’t know whether to start cursing or dive in after her, chasing his desire to the very depths of the sea.

[shadowthrone-ammanas]

Got any more dad snatcher drabbles? Like what if Hat Kid was in danger with the empress(in the mansion) and Snatcher had to save her?

Thank you for the request!

The Manor

“Yo Dad, I’m going to go up to the manor again, you want me to bring back anything?”

Snatcher snapped around from resetting a trap to face Hat Kid. “Where did you just say you’re going?”

“To the manor.” Hat Kid pointed in the general direction of Vanessa’s Manor. “I want to read the rest of the Queen’s diary because I only read a couple pages when I was up there last. It wasn’t exactly on my list of priorities at the time because that was before I knew who she was. But since I’m going down there, is there anything you want me to bring back? I know you used to live with her. So you must have belongings there, right? Want any of them back?”

“And if I were to forbid you from going?” It was dangerous and she didn’t need to know any more about Vanessa than she already did.

“I would go anyway, you know that. But you also know I went once before and it was fine and that I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself in general especially after completing all your Death Wishes. I’m smarter and faster than your crazy ex, she won’t even know I’m there. So, spare us both the trouble and yourself the embarrassment and don’t even bother trying to make me not go. Now, you want any of your old possessions back or no?”

When she put her mind to something, there wasn’t much he could do to stop her even if he was her legal guardian now. But she was right, she’d been up there before and come out unscathed. And she’d proven herself more than capable of taking care of herself during the Death Wishes even if she hadn’t already beforehand. And well maybe there as something Snatcher wouldn’t mind having from his old life. He’d given up on it a long time ago and he didn’t need it but if she was going anyway…

“There’s a lose floorboard at the foot of the bed in my old room.” It’s where he’d kept his most valuable possessions so Vanessa wouldn’t be tempted to take them. How could he have possibly been dumb enough to ignore that big a red flag? “Most of what’s in there is probably ruined by now but one thing that might still be in good shape is a gold pocket watch. I don’t need it but you could bring it back if you really want to.”

“You don’t seem the type to carry around pocket watch. Where would you even keep it? You don’t have pockets.”

“I don’t plan to carry it. It uh… used to belong to a friend of mine.” The only friend he’d had after Vanessa had driven everyone else away.

“Oh?” Hat Kid’s eyes lit up with interest that almost made him regret saying anything. “The romantic kind of friend.”

“No.” Just the thought made him feel ill after the wrong assumptions Vanessa had made about their relationship. “She gave it to me to fix because it broke.” He’d been pretty decent at that kind of thing back in the day. He’d been planning to finish repairing it that night. “Don’t ask anymore questions, either get it or don’t, I don’t care that much. If you can’t find it fast, just forget it.” He could never return it regardless because not everyone became a ghost when they died and she wasn’t one of them, he’d made sure of it. “I expect to see you back at the big hollow in an hour, got it?”

“Got it! I promise I won’t be any more than two hours. I’ll try for one though. See you then.” She gave him a wave before running off towards the manor.

Snatcher sighed as he went back to resetting his trap. This whole being a dad thing was hard. He probably should’ve at least tried to stop her from going. Oh well, too late now and knowing her, there was unlikely to be a problem anyway.

 -

Three hours later Snatcher paced by the big hollow. Hat Kid should be back by now. Even if she was a feral alien child, she still somehow almost always managed to be good with time; when she said it’d take her X amount to time to be somewhere, that’s how long it took her to arrive.

With a growl, Snatcher teleported as close to the manor as he dared: in front of the broken bridge. Any closer and he’d risk Vanessa sensing his power and coming after him.

“Did Hat Kid come through here?” he asked the Subconite on watch duty.

“Yes, a few hours ago. She hasn’t come back yet though. I figured it was just because she ported back to her ship. But are you saying, she hasn’t returned?”

“Yep, so I need to go look for her now.” If this was a prank or she was safe for some other reason, he was going to be pissed. He would ground her for a year at least, probably longer.

“I hope she’s okay.”

“I’m sure she is,” Snatcher said for his own benefit as well as the Subconite’s as he moved over the bridge.

He made his way through the snow and ice, hating every second of the cold even if he barely felt it. Once he started nearing the frozen lake, he condensed his form down to disguise himself as a Subconite – he remained floating though because no way was he going to deal with walking, especially in snow – he didn’t want to cause a scene if he didn’t have to. He just wanted in to grab Hat Kid and then get the peck out as soon as possible and hopefully not even see Vanessa.

He hadn’t been anywhere even near the manor since becoming a ghost. As he approached, he couldn’t help the slight tremble that came to his hands. He didn’t let himself hesitate as he floated up towards the front door though. It was locked of course but nothing a ghost couldn’t handle. He slid through the crack in it and into the house.

Inside, it was colder and he hated it. It was also a mess, in need of a good dusting and sweeping. Vanessa had always been pretty tidy back when he knew her, forcing him to be too. Her standards in that area apparently had dramatically slipped. If only she’d been…

“Peck you bitch, let me go!” That was Hat Kid! She was somewhere upstairs and was clearly in trouble and making it worse by being an ornery brat.

Snatcher burst into action and dashed for the room that housed the stairs. Upon reaching the second floor, he paused. The door leading to the nursery was wide open. He could sense Vanessa in there. It had to be a trap. Vanessa was insane but she wasn’t stupid, she’d know Snatcher would come for Hat Kid. It was the only reason Hat Kid was still alive.

Hating every moment that had led to this, Snatcher crept closer, grateful he didn’t have to worry about creaking floorboards. He didn’t want to do this but what else could he do? He needed to save Hat Kid.

Once he reached the doorway, he peeked in. Hat Kid was in there, in the middle of the room, completely frozen except for her head. Her face where it wasn’t bruised and bleeding – clearly she’d been hit rather hard by something – was pale. Her eyes were closed too. She was still alive though, Snatcher could feel it, just unconscious probably in punishment for her scream a little bit ago.

All he needed to do was to get close enough to her to be able to pull her into his pocket dimension and then they’d be home free. So he should rush in and…

“My Prince!” Vanessa was suddenly taking up the whole doorway, making Snatcher flinch back. “You’ve finally returned! I’ve been waiting, I even captured…”

Snatcher summoned a blast of magic under her feet, making her cut off with a scream of rage as it hit her. He immediately moved to dodge her ice thrown in retaliation. At the same time, he summoned another blast of magic under her feet and another under the wall separating the nursery from the hallway. It destroyed the wall enough for his Subconite form to fit through. Allowing him to get around her and make a dash for Hat Kid.

“Go peck yourself you pecking selfish whore ice bitch,” he made sure to shout at her before pulling himself and Hat Kid into his pocket dimension, just in time to miss getting hit by another blast of ice.

Wasting no time, Snatcher snapped back into his usual form and loosely coiled around Hat Kid. “Kiddo,” he said as he urgently starting tapping the side of her face. “You need to wake up.” She was more than half frozen, the risk of freezing to death was way too real. He could worry about other possible injuries and getting rid of the ice in a bit, waking her up came first. … Unless it was already too late.

She grumbled as her eyes fluttered open, thank goodness. “Snatcher! Dad! You saved me!”

“Yep, sure did. Now uh…” He could easily break the ice with a strong blast of magic but with how much power he, he was liable to accidently hurt her in the process no matter how careful he was with it. But it was magic ice, meaning melting it through mundane means would take at least twice as normal ice. Meaning…

“I-it’s cold.” Her voice shook. “A-and I can’t move.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m working on it though just… hold on a bit more, okay?” He summoned a blue potion as he pulled back from her. He didn’t have time to explain so he just poured half of it out and threw it at her feet. She flinched and even gasped in surprise at the explosion but when the fog cleared, the ice encasing her body was cracked.

“O-one more should do it,” she said, looking back up at him with far too much trust because this was dangerous too but he couldn’t think of what else to do to get rid of the ice now.

Thankfully one more did do it. As the ice shattered, Hat Kid stumbled and almost fell before Snatcher caught her. He scooped her up to cradle in his arms. She was shivering and cold as she grasped onto his mane.

“Y-you’re warm,” she said, her teeth chattering. “You’re not supposed be warm.”

“I’m not, it just feels that way to you right now because you’re freezing. But other than that, are you hurt? Do you need medical attention?” He couldn’t provide it but he could bring her to someone who could. He maybe should regardless, just in case.

“Uh no, I’m not now… just cold and my head hurts because she hit me when I yelled. But uh… speaking of that, what happened?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Instead, Snatcher transferred them to her room on her ship. He pulled the blanket off her bed and wrapped her in it like a cocoon. He then grabbed the spare blanket from her closet and wrapped her in that one too. “Is this good?” he asked when he done because he’d been dead long enough that he was no longer sure what the best way to warm up after almost freezing to death was.

“Yes, thank you. Thank you.” Her shivers seemed to have died down some, meaning she was probably going to be okay now. He might still want to take her to the doctor later though, just in case, but for now…

“Don’t ever do that again,” he said as he settled in the pillow pool, still holding her in his arms so he could glare down at her to make sure his displeasure was fully known.

She giggled in response though. It was good that she was feeling well enough to laugh but…

“It’s not funny. You could’ve died.”

“No, I guess it’s not, huh? But… I’m just happy you’re being a grump again. It was kid of scary seeing you so openly worried.”

Snatcher couldn’t exactly deny that he’d been worried, even if he wanted right? He’d gone into Vanessa’s Manor for her, anyone who knew of his past would know what that meant. So… “You’re never going to the manor again. I don’t care what you have to say about it.” He’d tell the Subconites never to let her pass when they were on guard duty too.

“Fair enough. I got what I wanted anyway. Her diary and…” she paused as she squirmed and then finagled her hand and arm out of the covers through the opening made for her face, “this.” She held the pocket watch he’d asked her to find. It was tarnished with age but unmistakable.

Snatcher sighed, unable to stay mad. “Uh… thanks.” He should probably take Vanessa’s diary from her because she did not need to know Vanessa’s secrets. He’d worry about it later though. For now, he just accepted the pocket watch and sent it to his pocket dimension.

“Can we watch a movie now? One that’s set in a warm place.”

“Sure, why not?” With how mad Vanessa had to be, she’d probably come to attack the forest again soon but until that happened Snatcher was just going to let himself relax. He’d almost lost Hat Kid today and that was a far more stressful experience than he wanted to admit. So he needed to get his mind off of it for a bit.

For this drabble event.

[fiiimbulvetr-a]

The Legend of the Snow Queen

(drabble. Personals don’t reblog)

She paced. And she paced. Those words ringing in her ears like the toll of a bell she’d stood too close to. Echoing  in her mind like a horrible Christmas carol. Playing on loop, tormenting her with their repetitive drawl. 

She’d met the boogeyman and thought he was one of a kind. She’d met the sandman and was able to rationalize that if one existed the other must too.. And then she met HIM. Father Christmas. ‘Saint Nick’... North. Two invisible people was a coincidence... Three was a pattern. And his confirmation of other beings of a similar nature... It threw everything-EVERYTHING she thought she knew into question. Every experience with them... Every time she’d spoken to them, laughed with them, shook their hand, hugged them... Every time she kissed her fiance... Was it because she believed? Or because she was destined for their fate?

She looked down at her hands. Pale as every other day.. But she couldn’t help but wonder... What was going to happen to her? Was she meant to disappear too?

Blue, crystalline eyes lifted to the window and to the city that rested beyond the frosted glance. The dim light of winter crossing the sky as unaware children played in the snow. They could always see her.. But then... Her powers were born here. But those from Arendelle... Were not always so trusting in the MYTH of her magic. Elsa had dismissed the first time she’d been passed through as a trick of the mind... But had it been something more?

Fingers curled inwards, nails pressing into pale palms. 

.... She needed to know for sure. She needed the truth. 

Meets cancelled and appointments rescheduled then Elsa was gone. Riding on frosted horseback. Icy hooves thumping on the ground at speeds known not to mortal mammals. Carrying her across the fields and out of Arendelle before anyone could slow her down. There was no time to explain. She rode until she ran out of land. Through foothills and forests and over streams and snow buried meadows... Over the border of Arendelle and into the neighboring country. Until she came upon a village. One so perfectly cut off from Arendelle. Self sustaining. No major trade routes or ports... No global news traveling out.. or in. A place that would have never known her name.

Summoning her courage, Elsa dismounted. Fear coiled around her heart as she stood at her steed’s side and looked over the snowcapped roofs and sleighs. The laughing children playing swords with sticks while their parents tended the fields... Such a pure, untouched place... Elsa took a breath, stilled her trembling hands... And took a step. 

With every footfall she drew nearer to the homes and stables. To the people. With every step she should have come more into view. Perhaps they might even hear the crunch of snow under her shoes.. But their backs remained turned to her. She stepped up beside a little, humble building. Painted red white. A little schoolhouse. With a herd of tiny children scurrying around at their parents heels as they finished a wonderful day of learning. Elsa couldn’t help a smile to watch them. So innocent.. So naive to the world outside of their moms and dads, their schoolmates. Nothing else mattered...

A faint thud reached Elsa’s ears and she startled back. Her eyes scanned the area for the source, thinking perhaps someone had seen her and stopped to look at their newcomer... But there was no one. Until she looked down and found a little boy on a sled, crashed into the side of the schoolhouse. Lying awkwardly on his back in the snow at her feet.

“Oh- Haha- Careful, little guy.” Elsa urged with a warm laugh as she bent to inspect him. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer her, but for a moment it looked like he might have looked at her. But perhaps it was a trick of the eye...The boy stood on wobbly legs, grumbling and pouting to himself. ‘Stupid sled’ ‘can’t turn this stupid-’ Elsa watched him try and try and drag the sled from the snow, but he’d gotten it thoroughly wedged between the snowdrift and the schoolhouse wall. He yanked so hard he dislodged the sled and was sent falling backwards into the snow once again. 

“Whoa-! Easy there, ki-” 

Her hands jutted out to try and catch the boy-

                                       But he fell right through them. The only answer to her gesture was the crunch of snow as his little body hit the ground. Stunned, shocked and mortified, Elsa was frozen in place, staring at her empty hands. She barely even registered the concerned mother that came to collect her son. Not until the woman walked right through Elsa’s shoulder and away. As if she wasn’t even there...

“No...” breathed the queen as she backed away. Her horror invisible to all of the eyes of this village.  The hollow, emptiness of being passed through like a ghost comparable to the terror of vanishing. Ceasing to exist to those who believed her to be nothing but myth or hoax... To those who never heard of her at all...

She was becoming one of them.

A legend. 

                       .... Someone was going to have a lot of EXPLAINING to do.

[lackedflaw]

overture

odasaku-centric 1,998 w

a.n: yes, this is supposed to be a five-hundred words drabble chronicling odasaku’s stay in koi. no, i don’t know what hit me ;;

he opens his eyes and everything is too bright.

ears ringing, head pounding, eyelids feeling like they weigh a ton each. his first instinct is to raise a hand to obstruct the sunlight from coming into his eyes, blinking the pain away until he’s able to make out the green of the trees and blue of the sky. 

then he hears the muffled screams, coming from somewhere in front of him. sakunosuke rises to his feet, struggling to stave off the oncoming wave of nausea by propping both hands on his knees, vision still adjusting as he looks for the source of the noise. it takes him a few seconds to realize that he is standing on a parking lot somewhere, another few to spot a white van parked not far from him as the source of the screams.

sakura? and yuu… and kousuke. what’s going on?

adrenaline takes over before any rational thoughts does; sakunosuke doesn’t even know why he springs straight into action and sprints towards the van at the sight, stumbling on his own foot once or twice in the process. he does know that there's an inexplicable sense of urgency that tells him to run as fast as he can, to not stop until he has all five of them safe in his arms- to tell them that he's there, it's going to be okay, they're going to be——

the explosion that occurs right after sends him flying thirty meters backwards, hot air hitting his face without mercy as he crashes upon the gravel. sakunosuke briefly registers the pain blooming all over his body, ignores the sting of scrapes and cuts on his skin as he stares at the burning car before him, throat burning from the cry of anguish that doesn’t sound anything like his voice.

he thrashes wildly on his bed and his head knocks against the headboard, jolting him awake.

he opens his eyes and darkness is the first thing that greets him. 

breathing comes in mouthful of air and painful inhales, memories of the black smoke from his dreams constricting against his lungs. yet the throbbing pain upon his joints feels like a fleeting sensation, almost like a mere ghost, now that he’s back in the comfort of his apartment in koi. for a moment everything is disoriented, mind still hazy from the sudden shift to consciousness.

sakunosuke attempts to sit up straight, hands grasping on the front side of his abdomen only to release a relieved sigh when his fingertips comes in contact with a damp t-shirt. there’s no trace of gravel- only the crumpled surface of his bed sheets and his own perspiration making his shirt cling onto him like a second skin.

nightmare. it’s just a nightmare- an extremely realistic one at that, too.

heaves a sigh, fingers brushing his own bangs off of his forehead. the frequency between one terror-filled night to another is getting shorter and shorter for his liking. sakunosuke steps out of his bed and discards the shirt he's wearing, crumpling it into a ball before throwing the gray cloth into the laundry basket. the fact that it was about his children this time isn’t helping at all. could it be because he's been missing them more lately?

azure shifts to the digital clock on his nightstand, red lines making out the shape of ‘03:56 AM’ jarring amidst the darkness. it’s too early to get up and make coffee, yet too late to fall back to sleep when he has work in three hours. maybe getting fresh air would do him good...

and by fresh air, he meant retrieving a cigarette pack and ashtray that he swore off not to touch a couple of months ago from his socks compartment.

the sky is still a dark shade of blue when he slides open the door to the balcony. sakunosuke leans against the railing as he plucks a cigarette from its container and clamp it between his lips, taking notice of that the streets down under isn’t as quiet as he thought it would be. but then again it’s only natural with the belladonna district only a short walk away. 

an idea to grab his coat and walk around the said district crosses his mind. being a member of the port mafia granted him access to a lot of places that most people rarely think of going into in yokohama. he can’t help but wonder if the nightlife district in koi is similar to the ones they have back home. 

although he wouldn’t be surprised if they end up kicking him out, now that he’s a detective for the local police force.

taking a drag of his cigarette, he lets his mind wander off to the distance, relishing the pleasant burn that trails down in his throat. the night air is cool, yet not particularly harsh upon the bare skin of his abdomen. he waits for a few seconds to exhale—just to get that little kick before releasing the smoke through his mouth. a little bit of nicotine never fails to soothe his jotting nerves, even after the most horrifying of nightmares or traumatizing event. 

ah, right- he forgot to check on his roommate. hopefully he didn’t wake micah up with his little incident from before. he has been nothing but accommodating throughout they time cohabiting together, even with that one awkward first dinner where sakunosuke took the initiative to cook spicy curry for both of them. it was sakunosuke’s first time sharing something so personal as a living space with someone else other than his mentor and micah’s presence feels almost natural around him, although he probably still needs to work on his own conversing skills with the latter.

to think about it… how long has it been since he arrived in koi? sakunosuke had lost track of the time. with the abrupt change happening in his lifestyle, he didn’t have the luxury of sitting around idly on the living room, having to go job hunting and get accustomed to the odd city he finds himself stranded in. it was fortunate that he managed to land a job in a cafe despite not having any prior experience in the hospitality or the restaurant business. 

he doesn’t suppress the smile that quirks the corner of his lips when he recalls his  former? boss’ words to him after their first encounter in the cafe. ‘it suits you’ chuuya had said when he served his tea to him. those three words—although simple ( and funny, coming from a port mafia executive )—left a lasting impression more than saku think it could. who would’ve known someone like him could also play the role of an ordinary barista? a child groomed since young to be a deadly assassin only to join the mafia afterwards, now playing house by making tea and serving cakes? makes him think that maybe, the black of his blood and gushing red on his hands can really be a thing of his past. that maybe, he can redeem himself completely.

then there’s the girl he met by the river after causing her to drop her crepe. the girl with large round eyes, yet no trace of the innocence most kids her age usually possess. what was her name again… kyouka? kyouka izumi? looking at her almost makes him feel like he’s seeing a reflection of his past self--except more hopeful, and loved. they have only met once but sakunosuke is sincere when he hopes that she could lead a better life than he did. 

his eyes drift towards a small potted flower near him as he releases another puff of smoke. it comes as a surprise to him that the begonia flowers he purchased from oichi’s workplace hasn’t wilted yet. sakunosuke has never been a potted flowers type of person before, as he considers them too beautiful- too fragile for someone like him to touch, but he didn’t put much thought into buying it since he wanted to congratulate the oichi for landing a job there. there's just something about her that makes him want to stay close, to make sure that her well-being is taken care of. is this what one would call as platonic affection?

speaking of affection… two brunettes are the first that come to mind.

first is dazai. his friend, who also happens to be one of the port mafia executives—or at least former, according to dazai himself. out of the other familiar faces he had encountered throughout the city, dazai was the one he didn’t see coming at all. it’s almost as if he’s a completely different person now... the way he’s dressed, the way the baby fats are gone and replaced by strong lines and sharp edges, shoulder much broader and nearly a head taller than the last time he had seen him. his gaze is also no longer hollow but melancholic, almost—for the lack of a better word—soft. dazai said it has been years since their last meeting that night in lupin, so sakunosuke supposes that not even a human conundrum like him can escape from time’s grasp.  

and ango. ango, ango, ango——

something stings inside his chest at the thought of the bespectacled man. sakunosuke used to think that he is the farthest thing from emotional, knows that rationality should precede any form of sentimental value, and yet he still finds himself upset at ango’s condition when he, from all people should know how disconcerting it is to lose a chunk of one’s memories. the city did it to him- to them. it’s unfair to blame one person for something he cannot help at all.

but that’s what ango has been capable of doing from the start, right? bringing out a side of him that even sakunosuke doesn’t know exist for the better or worse, knowing where to hit and where to stroke gently, his limit and what he’s capable of.

and subsequently spurred saku to take that trust fall years ago. 

“i want to take you around the streets of rome."

a shadow of a smile creeps up to his lips as he thumbs the ghost of a kiss upon his knuckle. although koi is not rome, they can make do with what they have now. like they usually do.

the sky has turned into a splash of indigo and coral by the time sakunosuke is done with his third stick. he takes one last drag—the longest one he had that morning—before extinguishing it on the ashtray and disposing the leftovers to the nearest trash bin. it’s a routine that he finds himself still unable to give up, rooting from the guilt of breaking a promise he made years ago with a certain someone. although they aren’t physically there to reprimand him, sakunosuke prefers to think that they’re always with him, in his heart.

gathering the pack and ashtray in his hand, he steps back inside the apartment before closing the sliding door behind him. the sun peeking behind the clouds illuminating the outlines of their apartment with a soft glow, providing sakunosuke with a better lighting to navigate around than an hour before. he quickly slips the two items back in it’s hiding spot and makes a beeline to his bathroom.

but not before something out of place catches his eyes in the full-bodied mirror of the closet door, causing him to retrace his steps back until he sees his full reflection upon it. 

a scar that can only be described as coming from a gunshot wound, not bigger than the size of a dime yet prominent on the smooth expanse of his skin, sitting on the lower right side of his chest, dangerously close to his heart. sakunosuke instinctively raise a hand to touch the uneven skin, mirror reflecting his furrowed eyebrows back at him. the scar doesn’t feel new- but not faded enough to come from his assassin days. how come he just noticed this now?

where did this one come from?

[pyromantic-art]

Change of Address (Sunless Skies drabble)

The Captain takes the Incautious Driver to see their doctor, and admirably restrains herself from punching out their parents. Nameless she/her captain, feels but no romance. Short lil’ thing (Word count: 972) Read on Ao3.

    Change of Address

   The Driver’s doctor resides in an elegant town-home in the seemlier part of New Winchester. The only announcement of its business is a quiet silver plaque by the door. It is stately. Discreet. Exclusive.

    Nonetheless, the door opens for them at the Driver’s request. The foyer is at once both a cold and cozy affair: it is tiled, black on white on black, lined with polished bronzewood paneling, commendably clean, and occupied by a herd of obscenely-stuffed armchairs crouched along the walls. From nothing, a harried assistant manifests, taking their name, their information, waving the two of them to a seat before promptly dematerializing.

    They sit. They wait.

    The quiet settles like a cloak about her, comfortable and easily-borne. It is punctuated only by the Driver’s perpetual fidgeting. They tap their toes. They rap tuneless beats into the chair. They crane their neck every which way, staring into the shadows of the cross beams, as if something unpleasantly parental might come crawling out.

    “Haven’t been here in ages,” they say. “Hasn’t changed.”

    “Hmm.” She turns just enough to eye their scars, stark red against their jaw. “You come less frequently now?” That might explain quite a bit, actually.

    The Driver scoffs. “Mother brought me here incessantly. I sneezed, she brought me here. I stubbed a toe, she brought me here. I slept in that chair,” they stab a finger at the one nearest the stair, “because I coughed in my sleep once, and she wanted me ‘near as possible’ to medical attention should I start to choke.”

    She pulls the quiet closer, saying nothing. Her face remains an impassive mask as she watches the words bleed out of them.

    “I was already choking.” They deflate with a sigh, curling in on themself. Their voice falls as soft as Avon rain. “Hasn’t changed.”

    She waits until it is clear they have nothing more to say. “She wanted to protect you,” she tells them, even though she really hasn’t the first idea what their mother wanted. The Driver doesn’t respond, not at first. The words wallow in the silence a little.

    “She wanted to keep me,” they say at length, as if the declaration was previously simmering inside them. “Put me on a shelf, like a thing. A pretty piece of china.” They sit hunched over on the cushioned office chair, mouth pressed into a grim line, stretching at their scars. Their hand raises to scratch at one. “Can’t have any cracks, now, can we?” The glare they’re giving the tile has a heat that the Clockwork Sun couldn’t hope to match.

    It occurs to her, then, that she’s never seen the Driver well and proper angry before. Indeed, they seem to only oscillate between the same two moods: inadvisable joy (When everything is going marvellously wrong.) and morose boredom (When everything is not.) Anger is new. Venom is new. The pain is…

    Well, she thinks the pain might be very old, in fact. Old and, until now, carefully concealed.

    The Driver’s name is called. A door in the lobby swings open, and in steps a stately woman in a fastidious tweed suit. She waves them forward, dour and dead-eyed.

    “Well.” The Driver snaps to their feet, their thunderous mood gone as quickly as morning mist. The grin they throw her is cocky and crooked. Her hands itch with the urge to straighten it out. “Back out in a jif. Nothing bad, I bet.”

    “I bet,” she echoes, hollow. The Driver and the doctor disappear back through the door, and it’s then she notices the assistant scuttling about the room still. They approach, passing a rickety clipboard into her hands. She expects a bill. She finds -

    “Paperwork?” She asks. The sheet is lined with endless boxes and fields and personal information that she’s sure she has no business seeing. “Pardon, paperwork? Do I have the legal authority to fill this, even?”

    The assistant doesn’t spare her time to shrug, scuttling on further. “You see anyone else here who can?”

    No. No, she does not. Despite the Driver eyeing every shadow like their mother might come striding out, their parents are not here. She feels the absence like a bruise.

    So she takes the paperwork and looks it over, commitment to privacy overcome by her insatiable need to know. There is a delightful wealth of information on her equally delightful Driver: their full name, their age (Young, too young, she thinks, though she was younger when she fell into this life. Younger and hungrier, too.), their date of birth (Quickly copied into her own datebook.), some work and health and travel history.

    Their former address of residence.

    She reads it, once.

    One eyebrow arches up her forehead.

    She reads it again.

    The other eyebrow joins the first.

    She’s faintly familiar with it, of course. Ten Sovereigns says that near everyone in New Winchester is. It’s one of the prettiest streets in port, lined with tall, ornate townhouses that, come to think of it, do strike her as looking something like china cabinets.

    My. How glamorous. How proper.

    She takes her pen, and draws one smooth stroke through the address. Precise, clean, clinical. There.

    She moves back, and makes a second.

    A third. A fourth. A fifth.

    She cuts with the pen until the paper is bleeding black with ink. Then she moves down, and primly writes on the line beneath: The Orphean.

    The name is stark and right against the paper. She nods, once. Good. Good.

    She slips the pen into the clip at the top, and folds her hands upon the completed paperwork. The blacked-out former address is illegible now, but she thinks she can still read the scar of it in the paper. Perhaps she will make a house-call, later.

    But not now. Now, she wraps up once again in quiet, she perches on that bloated chair, she considers, hazily, every offhand comment and mention the Driver has made of their family in these past months.

    And she waits.

[askthecustodes]

The Tribune’s Return

Rewriting some old stuff in an attempt to reclaim it, so if this drabble looks familiar, its probably because it is.

An Ancient Tribune returns and is immediately thrust into combat again. A familiar face brings light back into his heart.

@ask-tribune-ra

Ten Thousand years. It tasted wrong on his tongue, the time fitting imperfectly into the recesses of his mind. He resisted the implications of it. While he understood that the passage of time in the warp was far different than its passage in realspace, to think that that many millennia had passed put a dread in his belly. How many of his comrades from that time remained? How long he had been gone was of no matter, only that Terra remained and the Golden were there to protect their liege lord. There was a sense of relief in coming home. A tension in his shoulders dissipated at the sight of Terra still standing.

His brothers met him and his sodality at the star port. The Adeptus Custodes were as resplendent as ever, their armor the iconic brilliant gold with red plumes. Red had replaced their black mourning shrouds; he would later learn of the return of Lord Guilliman’s plea to call the Golden back to the stars once more and Valoris’ plans to answer before the call was even made. For now he did not ask. They had no words for him or the Custodians that followed, for they could not have been more different in their streaked gold and bearing the tokens of thousands of battles against the forces of chaos. It was for the best, he mused. He had little patience for the decay he had seen during this journey home.

He kept his head high despite their suspicions. He remained unbent as they tested him and his companions for corruption. He did not blink when they told him he could not return to his previous position as Tribune. Still, the Captain General clasped his arm in the end. For the tedium of it, the Ancient once-Tribune understood well enough; there could be no doubt when if came to the safety of their King.

The Tribune had hoped for some time alone, to visit the Hall of Names and visit with friends long dead, and to learn of who had joined them. He had faced many daemons in the warp and in the webway, and they had told all sorts of stories- no doubt lies- about the horrid fates that had befallen his brothers and sisters. One name had recurred often, every story more grotesque than the last in its brutality and horror. Ra was not ignorant- ten thousand years of protecting the cradle world would have seen many, many losses, and those early days were no doubt a tremendous struggle. So he had made peace with their inevitable violent ends. He just had longed to know if her name really had found place in the endless honor rolls. He had dreamed of her in his few moments of rest, craved her gentle touch when they found some respite, wondered what she would think of him now.

But there was no time for such things just yet; orders came through immediately, that he and his kin would serve another shield captain and their company to handle an a chaos outbreak in a system adjoined to Sol. He accepted the assignment with a scowl, mustering his make-shift sodality to leave Terra once again. Their new partners remained aloof and afar. He bristled under their suspicions. It would take time for their brothers to accept them into the fold, but he didn’t have to like it.

He finally met with the shield captain of this unit. She was almost as tall as he, her armor a shade of a lighter gold than the traditional saturation of the main force. Amethyst eye lenses bored into his crimson red as he introduced himself. Her body language had been subtly hostile until he gave her his name. Then he swore there was a flicker of confusion in the way she shifted.

“Remove your helm, Ra.” There was something familiar in her cadence despite the vox wash of her helm.

Something prodded him to keep the sharp retort that came to mind unvoiced. Ra indulged her despite the objections of his companion. He looked many years older, and new scars lined his face. Long dreads were pulled back, and he needed a shave. He watched the shield captain before him carefully. She remained still for several seconds, before reaching for her own helm; the act silenced his companion. No other custodian outside the Captain General had done him that honor, for it was a symbol of fraternity among the Ten Thousand.

Ra could not keep the surprise from his face. She was exactly as he remembered her- ashen hair and piercing gray eyes, delicate cheekbones that swept to a gentle frown. Her brows were furrowed, as if she didn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“Ra?” 

“Arturia…” Her name came like a oath from his lips. He closed the distance between them in a few quick steps, setting aside his helm to pull her into a tight embrace. “You yet live.”

The Custodians at her back swept their Guardian spears to aim at him, the unexpected behavior suggesting treachery. Ra’s companion replied in kind, not liking his odds but willing to protect the Tribune. Arturia raised a hand, wishing she could hide the tremor in it, before wrapping her arms around him. The trio lowered their weapons, but the tension remained.

“You’re alive…” She whispered and, like a dam breaking, she wept. “You’re alive…”

He laughed, tears welling up in his own eyes at the relief and joy that threatened to overwhelm him. “As do you.”

“I thought you lost.” She mumbled, tightening her grasp on him.

He nuzzled her ear, breathing in the scent of her. “I know.”

“Honored Watchman.”  One of the Custodians called her attention. “We break from the warp soon.”

“Hm.” She was slow to disengage from Ra, her hands lingering on him. “Yes. I must brief you on the coming assault. Come.”

She led him into the ship’s strategium and walked him through the planned assault, detailing the information given to them by spies and scouts. She was different here, but she had ten thousand years to grow into leadership and planning. Ten thousand years of experience against a varied host of foes. He envied her in a way; there was little sense in his time in the webway or in the warp. No battles to plan. No assaults to map out. Simply skirmish after skirmish after skirmish. Rhyme and reason were absent in the Immaterium. It was hard to know how many he would have at his side, much less what he would be fighting until they made contact. He watched her as she brought up maps and explained assault vectors and gave warnings. She couldn’t have been more beautiful to him. A sharp mind, careful in how she spent the lives of those who followed her. There was a precision she had lacked when he had last seen her- but she had been more wild then, more instinctive. Time had changed him too; he idly wondered if the new her would still as fiercely love the new him.

“Your thoughts are elsewhere, Tribune.” She interrupted his reverie.

He rolled his eyes, his gaze sweeping from her to the map and back again. “I am not a tribune any longer, but I am appraised. My men will be ready at their strike point.”

Her eyes searched his for a bit longer than a standard moment, her expression tight. “When you are done briefing your men, return to me. We have much to catch up on.”

He nodded to her, amused at how comfortably she gave him orders, and touched her arm. “As you wish, Honored Watchman.” He drawled her title, but she could not quite tell if he was mocking her, or emphasizing the difference between them.

Arturia gave no more words as he donned his helm and left the strategium. A hollowness collected in her chest in his wake. Their completion of this mission could not come soon enough.

The population had fallen to the hold of chaos cults, and the doomscryers were certain that their leader would pose a threat to Terra if allowed to escape. Arturia had volunteered for the role, and few could deny her it- since her first time among the companions, she found herself speaking with the Emmisaries Imperatus and taken in. Her King spoke to her on more than one occasion of the millennia, whispering as he done in life, brushing her mind and expressing His will. He told her to be there, that she had more purpose there than she could guess.

A shield company in addition to a warhost of Imperial Fists and guardsmen seemed excessive, but at the sight of the blighted planet, Arturia conceded perhaps it was not the most unreasonable. The surface looked not unlike old Terran artists depictions of Hell. Monsters of a multitude of variations lumbered among their zealous cult followers as they screamed for their patron gods. Arturia looked on impassively as the first sodalities made planetfall. She would follow with her own sodality, though she wondered if she would have the opportunity to see him, to fight by his side once again.

Ra was among the first on the ground, his sodality eager to wet their blades and prove their mettle once again to their brethren. They waded in, fighting as one unit as they broke the waves of chaos. There was a sense of revelry among them; to be in the service of their Emperor, doing what they had done for ten millennia, seemed almost like a dream.

Within hours they had narrowed down the location of the cult leader, deep within the hive city. Arturia led her shield company, her silver and gold armor stained with blood and gore, outriders feeding them information from their screaming hit and run passes overhead. She took no pleasure in every kill, for there were hundreds falling to her blade, and hundreds yet to go. Mortal or daemon, it mattered not.

The streets down which they walked bore the marks of the cults defilement. Their patron God’s symbols were smeared in blood or scratched by whatever was handy on every wall still standing. Bodies littered the streets, either willing sacrifices or unwilling citizens resisting the initial uprising it was impossible to tell. Smoke turned the air acrid, fires still burning where ritual fires lost control or Kataphraktoi gunners found more than their mark. Black billowed from buildings. Arturia was grateful for the air filter in her helm; the smell of burning flesh and putrid waste where sewage lines had broken made her want to gag.

Ahead was a cathedral, towering high above the surrounding structures. What once depicted the city’s dedication to the Throne World featured broken stone and shattered stained glass, mangled bodies of the planet’s defense force, and defaced frescos with proclamations to chaos gods. The sodality strode toward the gigantic wooden doors, taking the parade-wide stairs two at a time.

Another sodality came up on their right flank. In her peripheral she almost took them to be more daemons until she spotted the armor beneath their patchwork fixes. She picked out the tell-tale marks that separated him from his kin. 

“Arturia.” His voice purred over the vox. “After you.”

A part of her loathed how her name in his mouth evoked so much longing nostalgia in her; in the years that followed his disappearance, she struggled to make sense of the tremendous losses from that time and had put away the part of her that had loved so personally and freely. She gave him a nod, refocusing on the task at hand. There would be time for making peace again after their duties were seen to. Duty first.

It took the strength of several of the Custodians to pull the great doors open, the hinges automated system nothing but smoldering ruin. The rest of the two squads stood aside, their weapons ready.

Even with the windows smashed in, the light of the outside only reached in a few feet. There was an exchange of glances between Arturia’s sodality; impatient, Ra’s sodality moved forward as a single flock, crouching low as if they were on the prowl. Ra looked to Arturia, though she didn’t quite guess what his expression might be before he slipped into the inky blackness after them. This was not the way of the Custodians, but from what she had watched, these were now an entity all her own.

Her sodality followed behind, their formation and posture less of hunting animals and more of primed warriors. The black fouled their sensors; none of their helmet viewer modes showed anything helpful. A Custodian was not reliant on sight alone however, and they were quick to make contact. The bark of bolter fire and the crackle of power weapons mingled with the shrieking cries and heavy footfalls of daemons. Arturia couldn’t get a gauge on numbers, but it seemed as if more than a small fighting force had been ready and waiting for them. What was chilling most of all, was not the warcries of the monstrosities they were fighting, but the equally ferocious roars coming from their returned brethren. It left the Emissary unsettled.

Someone must have found the source of the smoke, because sensors chirped with acquired targets and the thick clouds began to dissipate, revealing the sheer breadth of the host about them. The sodalities were surrounded by slavering fangs, monstrous blades both biological and metal, and leathered flesh. Most of the cultists had already fallen to the Custodian’s whirling dervish of blades, but hordes of daemons took their places without hesitation. Their footing was getting all the more challenging with how they simply threw themselves upon the Custodians.

With the cleared smoke, Arturia spotted their target standing at the balcony to one side of the chapel. His outline shimmered, giving away the presence of a shield generator on his person. She seethed, annoyed she could not simply put a bolt round up there and be done with it.

“Target spotted, top left balcony. Be advised: Personal shield generator.” She hadn’t finished her last phrase before one of the returned had turned and did just what she knew would not work. The shell exploded a foot from the balding man, the force knocking him from his feet, but he was otherwise unharmed. He gathered himself up, and vanished from their line of sight. Arturia scowled, a Terran curse tumbling from her lips. “We’re losing time here. Angreth, Lionel, Oceanus, Grist, prepare to break off. Everyone else, clear a path for them.” Her sodality shifted towards the arched doorways on the far side of the chapel. With the help of Ra and his team, the red cloaked Custodians disappeared after their prey. The remaining Custodians’ circle tightened with the loss, and their foes pressed in closer.

Arturia didn’t fit into their flow of combat, leaving her mostly to fend for herself. Not that it bothered her any- it was the tradition of most of the Custodes divisions that they be singular in their fighting style. The Tribune and his men however, deviated from that doctrine, fighting in unity almost as astartes did. That style had evidently evolved with their time in the warp, making it just that much harder for her to follow.

The fighting had called the attention of other foes. A booming laugh called their attention to the great doors at the back of the chapel. The whole doorway was taken up by its bulk. It surveyed them with milky white pupiless eyes, its lipless maw curled into a vicious smile.

“Y̴o̶u̴r̷ ̴s̶k̷u̶l̸l̴s̵ ̶w̴i̴l̶l̸ ̶b̶e̷ ̵a̸ ̵n̶i̵c̴e̷ ̶e̶d̸i̷t̸i̴o̴n̷ ̶t̸o̶ ̵t̶h̴e̸ ̴T̸h̸r̴o̵n̸e̷ ̷o̷f̷ ̷K̷h̷o̵r̴n̷e̷“

Its voice was a gutteral sound, barely understandable. Arturia sneered back, fearless in the face of a chosen monster of Khorne. She cut through the daemons between her and the daemon, her blade moving at lightning speed. He laughed again, bringing forward his massive axe to meet her.

They still had dozens of daemons to kill before they could effectively join their sister-custodian. Ra grit his teeth; his men had faced such entities of the warp before, and were well adept at killing them, and while he was impressed that she thought she could take it, there was a tightening in his chest. She would not be the first if she were to fall.

Arturia was as strong as she was quick, dodging and slicing as she bounced around it, irritating the lumbering daemon. Its size seemed a detriment, its barbed body almost impossibly muscley. But with every cut, every drop of spilled blood, its rage and its speed grew, and soon she was struggling to outpace it.

Ra ripped his spear from the last of the horde that had assailed them, and looked up to see how the Shield Captain yet fared. Time slowed for a moment as he watched her Guardian Spear get knocked wide, and the spiked end of its axe surging towards her. It punched through her chestplate, the force knocking the air from her lungs. Pain bloomed immediately, drowning out feeling the myriad of other punctures and breaks in her armor. She might have screamed if there wasn’t blood bubbling up her throat. Weak hands grabbed at the haft of the axe the now lifted her into the air.

“Arturia!” Ra roared, equal parts wide eyed and furious. He charged the monstrosity, his Guardian Spear alive with a corona of crackling energy. It snarled at him, flinging her towards him with a whip of his axe. Arturia tumbled across the floor, blood spattering the floor in her wake. Ra jumped over her in his charge, his sodality following in his wake.

She watched as they descended together, united in their direction and purpose. One defended another as they fired their adrathic destructor on it. The others cut deep through it’s thick hide, earning unearthly screams. At some point she closed her eyes, focusing on the gaping hole in her ribs. Blood was collecting in her mouth, making it impossible to breathe without filling the inside of her helm. She couldn’t let herself fall into a healing sleep without at least removing it, but she couldn’t right herself enough to get at her seals.

Then she felt arms pulling her up, the vox whispering her name. Her broken fingers fumbled for the seals on her helmet. Ra gently pushed her hands away and relieved her of the cover. Blood made the air release sputter. She spat blood and gasped. Her good lung was struggling to keep up with the needs of her body.

“Finish- the mission.” She urged. “Su- support my- sodality-”

“My men are on it.” He tried to sooth her, cradling the broken Custodian to his chest.

“Med-evac’s- on its- way.” Every word was effort. She grimaced, baring her blood slicked teeth. “Go.”

“Stop talking, Arturia.”

She smacked his chestplate with her mangled gauntlet and tried to pull herself out of his grasp.

He held her fast. “Stubborn woman; stop this.” Arturia peered into his crimson eye lenses, her eyes narrow, but relaxed against him, her expression softening. He smiled under his helm, recognizing the relinquishing of control. “If you need to sleep, sleep. Just stay with me, okay?”

[ziasann]

An Obvious Answer (The Promise)

Hey, @3rdgymbros, this one’s for you. I have a plan, let’s talk about it ne?

This drabble happens right after the first single parent Dazai drabble I posted. More like this was what should happen in the next scene. And since lovely Sam wrote the birthgiving part, this happens before that.

Continuation of An Obvious Answer...

The Promise

His other self was an anomaly sort of creature he never dared to encounter. After the first and foremost awakening of Corruption, Port Mafia never looked at him ever the same. Only Dazai was brave and heartless enough to count the numbers of lives he mercilessly snatched from their enemies and own kind as well. A killing machine...

When Dazai asked, no, rather begged to stay with him and their baby, Chuuya was puzzled. There was a strange light filling in Dazai's single eye every time Chuuya stares at it. Despite the burden of carrying a life in his womb, he felt somewhat easier with Dazai's presence.

It has been weeks since his partner discovered the child and convinced him to keep it. It has also been weeks since relaxation replaced his constant cautiousness and wariness. Maybe there was hope after all...for their child to live in this world untainted.

The last thing Chuuya remembered was how Dazai placed his ear above his womb, waiting for the baby to react. ("Stupid mackerel, do you think a three month old would kick?" "The first time we met you already punched me!")

So why...

..Why were they here again?

The whispers...the taunts...Corruption!

Chuuya, tell me, can you raise the child?

Red and black surrounded him everywhere, Chuuya cannot even grasp his own body. He was losing himself to an unknown entity who have known him ever since he was born.

How pathetic. Your hands are filthy from the blood, you can't save lives.

His throat itched to scream but only hollow sounds came out. In front of him was a precious baby with scarlet hair sleeping with a smile. Like sleeping beauty. Chuuya's heart immediately leapt at the sight, the desire to protect and cherish the child overflowing him in waves.

Your daughter...my next vessel...another god of destruction will be born!

Familiar tendrils of red tattooed the porcelain skin of the infant. Chuuya thrashed, reaching out for his consciousness and vitality only to find it empty. He cannot control anything, everything was slipping away from his fingertips. Even this child who provided a ray of sunshine in his partner's dreary gaze will be gone and Chuuya knows it.

"- CHUUYA!"

Chuuya heaved deep breaths as he struggled to sit up. The room was spinning in his head and Dazai's grip on his shoulder stung. A few more inhales and exhales, Chuuya regained his bearings and scanned the situation before him. All the pillows and blankets were thrown as if a dog jumped and scavenged for bones. He had to release the sheets he was clutching too hard. Dazai patiently waited for him to speak and as he met his concerned eyes, the dam he forcefully locked in finally loosened.

Tears one by one escaped from his eyelids, until it streamed downpour, and all the cries he cannot shout in that nightmare emerged from within. Dazai pulled him close and held him, his fingers drawing circles upon his back. He tried his best to believe Dazai's whispers but how could he? When he had lived with that monstrous part of himself for so many years.

"I'm here, I'm sorry, I should have held you closer...and tighter." Chuuya shook his head and pushed Dazai a bit to tell the thoughts he'd been meaning to tell at his face.

"Corruption wanted to take over her. I want a normal life for her, away from this madness, away from everything."

"Chuuya, I'll do everything in my power to keep our child." Dazai wiped the tears on his cheeks with his thumb. At that moment, Chuuya solemnly swore he had never loved somebody as hard as this before.

"Promise me, Dazai," Chuuya pleaded, "Give her to someone who can protect her from this world we live in."

"I promise."

Chuuya never expected he'd slumber peacefully again but after the conversation, he slept like the baby growing inside him.

[lacertae-dreamscape]

Loss and Gain

hhhhhh just a drabble. soul marks.

also on AO3

Rating: Teen

Pairing: mentioned (past) Mondatta/Zenyatta, hinted other ship

Loss and Gain

Omnics have soulmarks.

They are not built with them, and many humans find this reason enough to denounce their presence, cast doubt on it, reject the meaning –that omnics have souls, just like humans do.

The marks appear somewhere on an omnic’s body and seem to have no particular rule, nor specific time –one day there is none, the next a mark is there, visible against polished metal, or maybe hidden behind cables, or etched over the curve of a piston.

Zenyatta’s soulmark is hidden underneath the panel on his lower back, the one he only opens to connect and port himself with computers and systems that he is otherwise unable to interface with. It is a place he cannot see by himself, and has rarely had any need to observe closely, so he does not know when the mark appears.

He does not find out for years and in fact, not knowing when it first appeared, it could be even longer. It could be decades.

Brigitte is the first who notices it.

She performs maintenance on Zenyatta bi-weekly ever since her arrival to OverWatch following Reinhardt, but usually her work is reserved for his servos and the connectors on his back, a wayward cable that gets truncated during sparring or a particularly dire mission.

And then, she decides to give him a complete check-up, from head to toe to the littlest sensor he owns, and this is how she finds it, tucked on the inside of his panel –it is a mark split in two, and her heart stutters as she observes it, the reality of how intimate this is only hitting her after she’s had enough time to recognise that one half of the mark is dark, black like charcoal, black like death.

“Zenyatta…?”

Something in her voice gives her away, makes Zenyatta realise something is wrong, because he looks down from where he’s sitting, but she refuses to look at him, licking her lips.

“Is there something wrong, Brigitte? Did I contract some horrible, terminally infective virus of which I had no idea?” a beat, then “or did you perhaps break something in your inspection?”

“Wh– no!” Brigitte looks up then, flustered and in denial, and meets his unchanging face plate, his forehead array blinking. “You jest, you know I would never!”

“Of course I jest, but your tone sounded troubled. What did you find?”

There is no way to just mention it casually –ask him why he never said anything, never mentioned how his soulmark is split, which isn’t as rare as people would like to make it to be, never mentioned how he even had one to begin with– so Brigitte opens her mouth, then closes it, and swallows.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she says instead, heartfelt and pained, because she understands what it means, and wants Zenyatta to know she had not meant to pry, that she didn’t–

“Forgive me, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.” And he truly seems like he doesn’t, and for a moment Brigitte flounders, caught unprepared.

She’s staring at his soulmark, obviously, and he knows it, but he didn’t see fit to warn her not to look, and now he’s putting her on edge and he doesn’t even understand why she’s–

Except.

Brigitte looks down again at the mark, tucked neatly somewhere that would be difficult to look at, and possibly even more so for Zenyatta, and… and…

“You have a soulmark, here,” she says, and her voice takes almost a hollow tone.

There is a beat, and she can see the way he freezes, the tiniest jolt of his shoulders that betrays his surprise. Then, quietly, “… oh.”

“You did not know…?”

“… I… no, I did not. And I assume that by your words it means it’s…”

Eyes wide, Brigitte reaches out to grab Zenyatta’s hand before he can finish. “No! I mean… yes but… it’s– it’s a double, Zenyatta. Not all of it is black. Just… just one half.”

Another beat, this time longer. “Brigitte… could you perhaps… tell me what it looks like?”

She nods. “There is… I think it’s omnicode, I cannot read it. But…” she snatches a pen from the table near her head, and hastily draws the symbols on her dirty, sweat palm.

Brigitte doesn’t consider how this might be weird –painting on her own skin the marks of someone else should be blasphemous if she wasn’t so focused on showing Zenyatta what his own soulmark is, how private, how important this is– and then turns her wrist around, awkwardly, and pushes it in front of Zenyatta’s face plate. “This,” she points at one of her carefully copied symbols, “this one is black.”

It takes Zenyatta a long time to speak again, and when he does, it is not through words –he makes a small, broken sound, one unlike anything Brigitte has ever heard, like metal scraping against rock, and she flinches, yet she still holds his hand in hers, tightly, as she recognises the sound for what it is.

Pain.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, and there is the same conviction and the same grief as before. It seems like he knows who the mark belongs… belonged to, and that seeing it made the pain flare up again. “Zenyatta, I’m so sorry. I’m here. I’m… I’m here.”

He feels his hand twitch in hers, and she lets go long enough that he can turn it around to grasp her own back, hard enough that it could hurt, only he is still mindful, even in his pain, so it stops just shy of aching.

Zenyatta makes a soft hiccup, garbled white noise, as his shoulders shake, then he stills, gathers himself again, and lets go of her hand.

“Please forgive me, Brigitte,” he says, his voice weirdly collected, lacking the usual emotion that makes it so pleasant to listen to. “I… I had not expected it would be…” he glitches again, another hiccup, and she nods, shushes him, and then raises up to her feet.

“Is it alright if I… ” it is awkward, almost, but Brigitte is a physical sort of person, and she knows he needs it.

When he nods, she wraps her arms around his shoulders and hugs him as tightly as she can, buries his face in her dirty work clothes, and knows that while he cannot cry, his soul is, experiencing loss all over again for someone she doesn’t know, though curiosity never even touches her mind.

“Thank you.” His voice is quiet, but Brigitte hears him nonetheless.

She doesn’t ask what the symbols mean, who they represent. She doesn’t think ��at least the other one is alive, at least you only lost one’ because she knows it’s not true –one loss is still one loss, it’s still someone who died, who’s lost forever, and Zenyatta will never have them back ever again… but she thinks about the other symbol, golden in colour, thinks about how it means Zenyatta has met them already, thinks about how he has someone waiting for him, someone who will love him, and feels tears fill her eyes as she blinks them away.

It is bittersweet, gaining and losing so much at the same time.

She thinks about her own soulmark, carved on her side, just under her waist. Thinks about how it remained grey for all her childhood, how she spent years wondering about it, worrying about what it would mean if it ever turned golden, only to find it changed after she joined OverWatch.

She thinks about how many choices she has, and refuses to think about what it could have been to see two, only to have one taken away.

She thinks about how Reinhardt congratulated her when she told him about it, how her dad reacted when she called him to share the news, her mom’s happy babbles as she pushed him away from the phone to congratulate her .

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she says again, and weeps quietly for Zenyatta, who remains quiet in her arms, his hands trembling as they hold on her shirt.

There is one golden symbol Zenyatta has left, but for now, they both mourn.