#I am calming down now though so perhaps I didn't go to far

[tansyuduri]

So I edited like 40 pages today and I might have gone overboard

Also brainstormed ideas for a fic and am now nearing the edge of an anxiety atack.

[imagines--galore]

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Eleven

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten,

A/N: Omg I had such a HUGE influx of readers for this story, and I am grateful to each and every one of you for reading my story! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and all the others I will be writing in the future.

Working at the tea shop was Orora's first time at a job. She was just as green to it as Zuko was. However, she did not voice her disgust at the notion every few seconds. She was eager to learn, and ready to earn her living. As much as she appreciated the money Iroh had given her, she wanted to contribute to their financial situation as well.

The first day had been busy. There had been the different types of teas she had to learn to brew, other then the ones she already knew thanks to her Master. Then there were dishes to wash almost constantly. Not a lot of customers had come in that day, Pao having closed the shop early to allow his new employees to get to know their work place, so it hadn't been as tiring as she had thought it would be.

What Orora found she liked to do, was wash the dishes. She got to play with water and bubbles, and it helped calm her. Strange, she knew, but after so many days of being on the run, doing something as simple as washing dishes was oddly calming. Not to mention the job allowed her mind to roam and ponder over things she had not allowed herself to for quite some time now.

As she set aside one of the more expensive looking cups, the young waterbender sighed softly through her nose.

So far the truce she had offered Zuko seemed to be working. Though it had only been a few hours since it had been put into effect. And they'd only managed to snap at each other twice. True after the second time Iroh had seen the wisdom in separating them by giving them jobs to do at different ends of the shop. Zuko worked the front, taking orders and such, while Orora washed the dishes in the back.

Picking up a plate and dunking it in the soapy water, Orora continued to let her thoughts wander and ask the questions she wished she could say out loud.

Such as why were Zuko and Iroh fugitives of the Fire Nation? They were royalty, surely the Fire Lord would want his brother and son back. And did Zuko's sister truly want to kill her own Uncle? That thought sent a shiver down her spine. But what about their mother? Didn't she have a say in all of this? Was she treated just like Orora's mother was treated?

She had so many questions, and more, and all she wanted to do was march right up to Zuko and demand that he answer them.

But something held her back.

Maybe because she was a polite person who didn't go about poking her nose in other people's business.

Or perhaps, more likely, she had no desire to cause Zuko any pain by talking about his past. It was surely a sore subject, from the bits and pieces of information she had collected over the months. Besides, he already had his hands full trying to adjust to living in Ba Sing Se. Orora just wished he would figure himself out faster so she could ask all her questions.

Oh, she could ask Iroh if she wanted to, and her would probably answer, but for some insane reason, she wanted the answers to come from Zuko himself.

Spirit help her but she felt it was the right thing since it was his story.

Memories of every encounter she had ever had with the young prince rose unbidden, yet not unwelcome in her mind, as she started to play with the water not having any more dishes to wash.

It was strange, how someone she had not even known a few months ago was now at the very center of her life. He wasn't all that she thought about, really this was the first time she was allowing herself to think of him to such an extent. Usually she had other things to think about. Such as surviving, learning from her Master, perfecting her water bending techniques, inventing new ways to incorporate ice into her fighting, improving on her combat skills, restocking her medicinal herbs, making sure she didn't loose touch with her healing side, because as much as she liked to put her waterbending skills to use by fighting, she knew healing was a major part of who she was.

All those thoughts were pushed to the back of her mind, as she focused on a pair of golden eyes that seemed to watch her wherever she went, watching her every step. At first she had thought, it was perhaps because he didn't trust her. But slowly, that mistrust in his eyes had faded. Now, when she would catch him looking at her, he would look away.

Then again, who was she to complain. She looked at him and had been caught looking at him by him on multiple occasion.

Her fingers continued to twirl, her gaze listless as she created pretty patterns in the water.

She thought of the night when they had first met, officially at least. When he had tried to rob her. She could still recall every detail with a clarity that surprised even her.

She contemplated on their little sparring session and the conversation after it, how she had encouraged him to find something to live for, to fight for.

She recalled how shocked she had been when she realized his true identity. A prince. An honest to goodness prince. One who couldn't stand her, and who she couldn't stand either.

At least, she thought that was the case.

Her mind conjured the moment where she had first touched his scar. How vulnerable he had looked, and yet he had trusted her enough to not push her away. The way he had protected her when they were at the Oasis. The conversation they had shared while bathing. That one brought a fierce blush to her cheeks. And despite her best effort to move on to the next one, she found the blush only intensifying as she remembered the moment they had shared on the mountain.

Where they had acknowledged that they were soulmates. Where he had gripped her wrist, so desperately and yet so soft. Where she had wandered how his lips would feel against her own. And she was sure he had been thinking the same.

After all, hadn't he leaned forward slightly before the elements of nature had tread on their moment?

So lost in her thoughts, that she didn't even sense as someone else entered her work area and stood next to her. Watching her.

"Uncle says its time to go now."

The voice jolted her out of her thoughts, scaring her so much that she jumped where she stood. Her bending reacted out of instinct, mirroring her startled emotion as her hand shot a splash of water on the figure standing next to her.

"Spirits! You startled me!" She panted, resting a hand above her heart. Zuko glowered at her in return, water dripping from his hair and onto his shoulders. The girl winced, pursing her lips to hide a smile, though it still escaped. She couldn't help it, he just looked utterly ridiculous.

At his warning growl, she couldn't help but giggle. A strange sound since it hardly ever came from her. "Sorry, here." Quickly bending the water, she threw it back into the sink and gave him an apologetic smile. His glare did not let up.

"We're done here for the day. Lets go." He grumbled, before making for the door. She rolled her eyes. Clearly he wasn't too pleased with her little reaction. As he stomped off, she called after him, removing her apron as she went. "I said I was sorry!"

                                          ————————–

Their new home was a small apartment, just big enough for the three of them. As soon as they returned, Orora quickly settled in the middle of the room, wanting to get in an hour of meditation before bed. She crossed her legs, closed her eyes, folded her hands in her lap and evened out her breathing.

Which left Iroh to brew some more tea for them, and for Zuko to lay on the sofa, hands tucked behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, his mind going over the day's event.

A job. For once in his life, he was actually working for a living. The notion had seemed strange at first, not to mention he had felt that it was beneath him, but what Orora had said was true. They did need jobs if they were to survive in this city.

Reluctantly, his gaze flickered to the water tribe girl as she sat meditating peacefully, oblivious to the effect she had had on him.

Him. Prince of the Fire Nation. Being effected by the words of a commoner.

Or rather, he was being effected by the words of a girl who was his soulmate.

Letting out a silent groan, his hand came up to press the back of his hand against his eyes, as if to physically stop him from staring too long at her. It was starting to get pathetic, just how much he would want her opinion on things.

He wouldn't go so far as to say he wanted her to approve of him, but it was pleasant to have someone else beside his Uncle give him a little wisdom. He spoke of life in riddles and words that were heavy with emotion.

Orora?

She would give it straight to his face. No regard of his feelings, his stand on whatever topic it was. She would just come out and say it.

And he appreciated her for that.

True he never always liked what she said, but sometimes they were the exact words he needed to hear.

Like the talk they had had after their impromptu battle near that lake. He still hadn't found something to live for, or to fight for, but at least he knew that he was looking for something.

Not to mention the fact that he would be ever grateful to her for saving Uncle's life. He would never say it outright, but in that moment he had been so so scared and she had stepped up and healed Iroh. Even after getting to know who they were and the lies she had been led to believe for so long.

And how she had probably saved him that stormy night on the mountain. A moment of weakness on his part, letting his emotions get the best of him, but she'd been there. She'd been where he needed her to be, and had not held back when telling him off for being so reckless.

He had to stop his thoughts there, not wanting to dwell too much on what would've happened if that moment in the rain had gone on any longer.

And then there was the truce. To live together somewhat harmoniously.

Lifting his hand, he looked at her again, watching her face. She looked so calm in that moment, as opposed to the plethora of emotions that always played about her features. Zuko found he was beginning to think of it as a game. A game where he would try to guess what she would feel next, and whether it would effect him in some way.

So far, almost every emotion she felt was directed at him, and though he would never ever admit it out loud, he kind of liked having her attention be on him rather then anything else.

Huffing to himself, as if disgusted with his own thoughts, he rose to his feet, moving to the pantry to see what he could have for dinner.

                                          ————————–

"Orora, my dear." Glancing up from where she had been counting the money of the customer who had just paid, the young waterbender gave Iroh a nod. "Yes Master?"

"We seem to have run out of Jasmine. I have asked Pao and he says to take some money from the till and buy some Jasmine tea from the shop just down the street."

Taking the money, Orora quickly nodded, before rushing to the back of the shop where Zuko was on dish washing duty. Seeing her taking off her apron, he frowned. "Where're you going?"

Straightening her clothes, the girl replied. "Ran out of Jasmine, just going to buy some." She had barely made it to the door when Zuko called out. "Wait, I'm supposed to go with you when you go out into the city."

Orora glanced over her shoulder, rolling her eyes slightly. "Relax Your Highness. Its only a five minute walk, nothing is going to happen to me." She opened the door, moving to step outside, but then she paused.

"Although, it is sweet of you to worry about me." She glanced over at him, a smile on her lips as she caught sight of the obvious flush on his cheeks as he looked at anything but her. "I'll be back soon." She said as a way of promise, before she was out of the tea shop.

It was a five minute walk, and once the goods were secured, the girl began to make her way back to the shop, her heart still warm at the prospect of Zuko actually worrying about her.

Her happy thoughts, however, were interrupted rather rudely when a hard hand grabbed her shoulder, yanking her into a dark alley, covering her mouth with a rough hand.

The instant she felt the unfamiliar hands, she began to struggle and push with all her strength, trying to get away.

"Stop moving!" A voice hissed, a very familiar voice.

Her eyes focused in the dark, and she was able to make out the face of the boy they had met on the way to Ba Sing Se.

The Freedom Fighter, Jet.

Her pale blue eyes narrowed, and a look akin to a cold anger burned in the gaze she fixed him with. "Look I just want to talk, that's all." He said, still not letting up from where he had his hand on her mouth.

She continued to glare at him, even after he had removed his hand, though his other kept an almost painful grip on her wrist. "I'm trying to help you. You're a waterbender, there's no way you would be with those firebenders of your own free will, so they must be keeping you prisoner somehow."

He knows, a voice hissed in her mind, prompting her heart to beat faster in her chest, and an ugly feeling of fear to coil in her stomach. But she didn't let it show.

Instead, she remained the epitome of disgust and anger. "What in the world are you talking about?"

There seemed to be an almost manic look in his eyes, accompanied by impatience, as he dropped her hand, and grabbed her shoulders. "You don't have to lie for them. I'm trying to help you. I just need evidence and then we can end those two firebenders."

End?! Spirits! He wanted to kill Iroh and Zuko.

Shrugging out of his grasp, Orora stepped away, fingers pulling the cork of her water satchel in case she needed to defend herself. "You're out of your mind." She growled at him. Despite the terror she felt at hearing his statement, her instinct to protect her two companions was far potent, which was the reason she was even able to face the boy with murder in his eyes.

"Just admit the truth! They're firebenders! And they deserve to die." He was starting to get frustrated with her. "I don't care what you say, I will find some way to expose them, and when I do, I'll have the pleasure of executing them."

Hearing those words, hearing the tone in his voice, the sheer hatred and anger in his eyes. Something in her snapped.

With a fierce cry she threw her arm out, the movement elegant yet deadly, given that Jet found himself staring at the very sharp ends of multiple icicles that she pointed in his direction.

"This is your first and last warning." She hissed, her voice full of warning. "If you come near them, if you so much as harm a single hair on their head, I will personally see to it that you pay for it." She fixed him with a cold stare. "In blood."

So saying, she turned her back to him, leaving him trapped behind her icicles. They would melt soon enough, though the words Jet called after her as she walked away, echoed in her ears all the way back to the tea shop.

"You would threaten someone who's on your side. You're willing to protect the enemy?! You're a traitor to your own people. A disgrace! You're just like them! A killer!"

                                          ————————–

As soon as she reached the back door of the tea shop, Orora leaned up against the wooden door. Her heart was beating so fast, she was afraid it would somehow burst out of her chest. A stinging sensation behind her eyes told her she was close to tears. Lifting a trembling hand, she pressed it to face, willing herself to calm down.

She had to warn Zuko and Iroh, make sure they were on guard. She couldn't let anything happen to them. They were her friends. She cared about them. Both of them.

Somehow, she managed to calm herself down, slightly, and entered the shop. It had taken her a good fifteen minute to calm down. Grabbing her apron, she tied it behind her in a haphazard manner before rushing out to the front of the shop.

There was Iroh, pouring tea for a customer, with Zuko picking up cups left behind by a previous customer. She all but stumbled forward, catching Zuko's hand, prompting him to look at her, confused and slightly alarmed at her obvious panicked state.

"Orora? Wha-"

But she didn't let him finish. "He knows." She whispered, aware of the other customers around her. "Jet knows." The words were spoken so softly that no one else could ever hear them, and yet Zuko did. Loud and clear.

However, before either of them could talk further on what she had revealed, the door of the shop slammed open and Jet himself walked in. A strangled gasp left her lips, as she caught sight of that murderous look in his eyes once more.

"I'm tired of waiting!" He pointed an accusing finger at both Iroh and Zuko. "These two men are firebenders! And that girl is helping them. She's a traitor!"

Immediately, Zuko pushed Orora behind him, gripping one of her hands to make sure she stayed there. Uncle and nephew exchanged a look which seemed to mirror what the other was thinking.

Play dumb.

"I know they're firebenders, I saw the old man heating his tea!" Jet continued, advancing towards the trio with his hooked swords out of their sheaths. "He works in a tea shop." A nearby customer stated in a rather confused voice, but Jet wasn't having it. "He's a firebender! I'm telling you!"

The same customer stood. "Drop your swords, boy. Nice and easy." Jet ignored him, his gaze never leaving Zuko's as he began to advance towards him and Orora. "You'll have to defend yourself. Then everyone will know. Go ahead, show them what you can do." His gaze flickered to Orora who, previous fear forgotten to be replaced by a burning anger, glared back at him. "Or would you rather have your girlfriend get hurt defending you."

She felt his grip on her hand tighten to an almost painful level. "Zuko, no! He's goading you!" She whispered, even as the previous customer moved to step forward, ready to unsheathe his sword. Zuko simply glanced at her. Her heart dropped to her stomach. She knew exactly what he was about to do.

And sure enough he stepped forward and grabbed the swords the customer had been about to withdraw. "You want a show?" He growled. "I'll give you a show!'

He pulled a table in front of him with his foot and kicked it at Jet, who was quick to slice the table with his swords and jumped over it. As he landed, he swung both hook swords at the Fire Nation prince, who deflected the attack and jumped backward onto another table. Which was again sliced in half by Jet, with a mighty swing of one sword through the middle of the table.

Somehow Zuko managed to balance on one half of the table, on one foot! Jet was unrelenting as he continued his frenzied attack by cutting the legs off the table. Zuko was quick on his feet as he jumped up. As he landed, he swung both broadswords at Jet's feet, but he somersaulted away and landed in a crouching position before charging forward. Zuko swung both of his swords at Jet.

Both weapons clashed as both fighters tried to best the other, glaring at each other as they did.

"Enough!"

Orora's scream cut through the air as she used her waterbending to push the two fighters apart. She moved to stand in front of Zuko, multiple ice knives nestled between her fingers as she stared down Jet. "We are not your enemies! Stop acting like a complete lunatic!" Zuko growled behind her. "Orora, stay out of this!" Jet's grip on his swords only tightened. "I will not listen to anyone who betrays their own people to help firebenders."

He took a running start, prompting Orora to drop in her stance to defend herself, however her plan of action went out the window when Zuko pushed her to the side. So forcefully that she fell to the ground with a loud thud.

Jet threw his leg out, catching Zuko in the chest and watching as he went flying through the air, smashing through the doors of the tea shop and out into the street. As the rest of the patrons rushed out to see what would happen next, Iroh quickly helped Orora to stand up.

"Are you alright my dear?" He asked, checking her over for injuries. She gave a quick nod, before stumbling to the door of the shop, Iroh following behind.

Outside the battle continued to rage between the two teenagers.

"Please, son, you're confused! You don't know what you're doing!" Even he was getting worried that Zuko would snap and use his firebending. Orora began to pray silently to the Moon Spirit, hoping her pleas would be heard and that Zuko wouldn't get hurt or reveal his true identity. The people would surely kill Zuko and Iroh, if they knew who they really were.

"Bet you wish he'd help you out with a little fire blast right now." As Jet swung at Zuko's feet, Zuko stabbed one of his broadswords through the hilt of his sword, pinning it to the ground. Jet looked annoyed at loosing his weapon, before focusing back on Zuko. "You're the one who needs help." Zuko responded. Leaving the sword embedded in the floor, they shifted to combating with a single sword each. Jet turned in a circle, trying to swipe at Zuko once again, but Zuko quickly advanced and swung his sword at Jet.

The Freedom Fighter quickly bent backward to avoid the blade, though it did manage to cut the straw sticking out of his mouth in half. Regaining his balance, Jet jumped backward onto the edge of a well. "You see that‌?!" He called out to the gathered crowd. "The Fire Nation is trying to silence me. It'll never happen." He attacked once more, hooking his sword to the top of the well and sending a flying kick towards Zuko.

Zuko growled as he dodged the kick and swung his sword at Jet once again. He moved to the side, and suddenly they were back-to-back, trying to land a hit, but neither could get past the other's defense.

Just then two newcomers entered the crowd. And from their uniforms, they looked to be of an official status. "Drop your weapons." One of them commanded. The two fighters stepped away and faced each other. Though Zuko lowered his sword, Jet pointed his weapon at Zuko, Iroh and Orora.

"Arrest them! They're firebenders!" Iroh stepped forward, throwing his arms out. "This poor boy is confused. We're just simple refugees." Pao, wanting to defend his employees joined in as he pointed to Jet. "This young man wrecked my tea shop, and assaulted my employees!" The customer from whom Zuko had borrowed the swords stepped forward. "It's true, sir. We saw the whole thing. This crazy kid attacked the finest tea maker in the city." Iroh blushed at the compliment. "Oh, ho, ho. That's very sweet."

Knowing it would be like adding wood to the fire, Orora stepped forward. "And he attacked me and threatened to hurt my Master and his nephew." She walked towards the two men, hand exposed to the wrist where he had grabbed her earlier. Sure enough the bruise from his grip was already beginning to change the color of her skin. The sight of it had Zuko nearly swinging his sword once again, but Iroh placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

It would seem the two had heard enough. As Jet continued his tirade of firebenders and Fire Nation, he was escorted to a cart where he was put in the metal cell and taken away.

Orora watched him go, unaware of the crowd as it dispersed around them.

"Orora?" At Iroh's voice, she turned around, still a little spooked with what had just happened. Or rather what could've happened. "Why don't you and Li go home. I'll help Pao clean up and meet you there."

As if she had no control over her actions, Orora took off her apron and handed it to Iroh, who gave her a sympathetic smile. "Do see that my nephew wasn't too hurt from the kick, my dear." The concern was evident in his gaze, as was the guilt in her own as she glanced at Zuko who was returning the sword to it's rightful owner.

Giving him a small nod, she waited for Zuko to walk past her, before following after him towards their shared home.

                                          ————————–

Tag List - @wavesofchaos​ @violet-potter​ @rennysketch​ @emma-andrea1 @lovesammikinzz @fuzzyfestcat @msrawog @notsaelty @lust-for-pan @aces-tattooartist

[dawnoftime22]

"my love, darling, sweetheart."

| W.M ( -> N.R )

Undeserving of a love like yours, Chapter 1

Chapter Warnings: None (series warnings in series masterlist)

Summary: A peaceful day spent with Wanda.

Series Summary: When you're stuck in a complete hole of confusion and hurt with the one you thought you loved most, a certain redhead finds her way into your life.

Word Count: 2.1k

Category: Fluff, for now.

A/N: well here it is finally :] this is an old story of mine I never published that I decided to remake, finish up, and post gradually, that miiight also eventually break your heart...but I hope you all enjoy <3

| Started on 29/12/2023, 11:19 PM |

| Finished on 05/01/2024, 9:28 AM |

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

Chapter 2 ->

“Let the sun kiss your skin softly.”

|——————————— ᗢ ———————————|

It was a sunny day. The sun kept shining in your eyes, and you had to shield yourself with your hands.

You held your hands out to the sky, as if touching it, but only the wind visits your hand. That is practically the sky, after all. Air. Wind. Moisture. You curl your fingers into a fist, firmly clenching it to perhaps capture the cool breeze, only to feel the warmth of your hand's skin against each other, making the cold fade away.

You end up letting your arm drop down to your side, and sigh. There was nothing better, truly, than soaking in a moment of calmness like this. Upon hearing footsteps though, you await what comes for you.

A familiar brunette appears in your view above, eradicating the sunshine and the bright blue sky. She looked down on you softly, your body laying restfully against the grass that moved along with the wind, but is flat underneath your back.

"I got us cakes," she says, sitting down beside you and putting the container down on the ground. You carefully prop yourself up with your elbows until you're sat up properly.

It was your favorite kind. Your lips turn up into a smile, and you grab the small fork while your legs settled into a criss-crossed position. Your hands reached to open the container, the corners clicking open.

The brunette watched you with amusement as you didn't hesitate to grab it. The bakery you loved was right near the park you're at, so it was the perfect time to go when it caught her eye. The man behind the counter had happily greeted her, knowing she's the partner to one of the patrons. The patron, is of course, you. But it was starting to become her new favorite bakery, too.

Wanda had also gotten a bag of warm freshly baked cookies, so she opted to unravel the top of the paper bag and take one, her cake sitting unopened next to yours.

You hum when the smell of the lovely cookies traveled to your nose, making you turn your head to her instead of your slice of cake. She was taking a bite of the cookie, the piece melting in her mouth.

Your hand leaves the fork in the cake container and goes to grab one for yourself, little crumpling noises making sound from the bag as it moved due to your hand.

While the both of you ate your delicacies, you soon space out far off in the distance of the park. Somewhere near there, someone sat at a bench with birds surrounding them and some seeds in their hand.

Beside the scene was another of a little golden retriever happily playing around with another dog, chasing each other around, and sometimes the two of them would stop, the husky looking dog teasing the other one by moving its paws forward, but not running again.

You soon stop focusing on those and turning your attention back to Wanda, but once you look at her, an irresistible smile grows on your face and you have to turn to your cake instead.

"What?" She asks, a breath of a laugh coming through the word. Wanda wondered why you would turn away so quickly. She knew she could make you blush easily, but she hasn't even said or done anything.

"Nothing, you just have some crumbs near your mouth." You shook your head, taking a spoonful of your cake to put in your mouth and look at her once more.

"Oh." Her hand goes up to wipe it off her face, but she went to the wrong side. Her eyes focused on you, visibly struggling to find it because she knows it's not gone due to simply your smile growing.

"No, the other side." You say, helping her. She gets it and looks at you expectantly. You nod, and put a thumbs up, making her reflect your smile.

"You got it." You finish off the last of your cake, and pop the lid back on. Soon your attention drifts off to the sky and the gold shining through the clouds. Wanda follows, and sees the sun behind you, making you glow like an angel.

"We should go to the lake. We can take some beautiful pictures there." She said, tiltng her head slightly, and you see her brunette hair starting to soak in the sunlight. Your eyes brightened at the sentence though, and a soft gasp comes from you.

"Yes! We should." Her lips rise up into a smile once more, and she grabs the bag of cookies before going to stand up. You follow along with your empty container and hers that still had a cake.

You turn to walk with her towards the nearby lake. Since the sunset was only just starting, you had more than enough time to arrive there. A cool breeze goes by, visiting your skins and your hairs. The water that started to come into your view properly, too, was moving with the wind.

The trees shaped the lake beautifully and openly. Not many people were around, especially because nighttime is soon coming around. But it made it all the more better.

Wanda took out her phone from her pocket and started taking some pictures. You stood by, but placed down the containers at a nearby bench and kneeled down to grab a couple small rocks to keep in the palm of your hand.

A thought to take some pictures, too, crossed your mind, but with the present reason of having forgotten to bring your camera, you decided against it.

You stood up and held only one rock in the other hand, throwing it on the water. It jumped lightly against it and splashed, until it dropped to below the water. Wanda turns her phone to you and you look at her.

"Nooo, don't take pictures of me! Look at the lake!" You point your finger towards it before throwing another rock. She moved her phone along the movement, and you assumed she was not just taking pictures, but videos. That rock went farther than the previous one.

"But you're more beautiful than the lake or the sunset!" She says, and you shake your head with a tinge of blush on your face. Once she was done, she walked closer to you with a smile and put her hand out.

You gave her the rest of the rocks in your hand except for one and she threw them. It only jumped twice and you try your hardest not to laugh or smile too wide.

"Okay, that was only my warmup." She says, looking at you with a warning before preparing for another throw. You only hum in response, knowing that it was an obvious excuse.

Wanda throws another, and it does skip farther, before it splashed entirely and disappeared into the water. The clouds had melted into the skies by now, and the last rock you had, you put into one of your pockets.

"I think that one jumped more than yours." You grabbed the cakes and turned away from the lake, now starting to walk to, perhaps, the car. The brunette was behind you anyways though, the place seemed to get darker, with the sun sinking down in the horizon.

"Nope, it did not." You say softly, glancing at her before focusing on the path towards the car once more. She raised her eyebrows at you. To be honest, the two of you got the same amount of jumps in the water with the rocks.

"Sure it did." She adds, wanting to be right. You were getting closer to the car, and she brought out her keys from her pocket, unlocking the car.

"Nope." You repeat, a playful smile on your face when she managed took a look at it at from her driver side just through the windows. She shakes her head with a smile of her own.

You pull the door handle and it opens. You sit in the passenger's side and close the door, your next move being to click the seatbelt on. Wanda had already done the same, and she's starting the engine.

The car powers up and the screens light on. She makes sure to adjust the ac temperature before moving from off the parking spot and into the main road slowly and carefully.

As the truck tires hit the road, the quiet humming of the car is added with the sound of concrete and small pebbles hitting the tires. You look out the window and watch the other cars pass by. There's people on the side of the street.

A florist, holding a boquet of flowers ready to go in a vase. Or perhaps a bought gift, as they're heading for their bicycle. The warm sunlight shone down on the florist, making out a pretty scene. Oh, dear, moments like these filled your heart with life.

Wanda looks at you softly for a second, seeing you spaced out the window. Her hand goes up to turn on the radio, finding a channel that holds good music. She focuses back on the road once she's gotten it.

The songs were calm. Perhaps even encapturing the entire feeling of today. Trees passed by. Streetlights passed by. The lights are on already, and the moon's showing up. Birds are retreating back to their houses, just as you are currently doing.

You look over to your other side, where Wanda sat, her fingers drumming, and her head nodding along the rhythm of the music. She was...so, so pretty. The car comes to a gentle stop, but you hadn't arrived just yet, only at a red light.

"I can see you staring," she says quietly with her eyes focused on the road. Her foot pushed on the pedal once more when the light turned green, and she went to make a turn.

"It's hard not to," you respond, saying only the truth. She glanced at you again, the corners of her lips raising. Buildings went by in her own window.

That is, until she goes into the driveway of your shared house. The car stops and Wanda slides her seatbelt off along with you. She turns the engine off, and the music turns into a quiet silence.

You grab the cookies and cake then open the door, getting out. She locked the car by the time the both of you had closed the doors, and she had grabbed all the items inside.

With the keys in her hands already retrieved from her pockets, she walks to the front door and inserts the key, unlocking it. You were waiting behind her on the porch, and she enters first with you at her back.

The lights in the house were flicked on by Wanda and she goes back to the front to close the door, considering your hands were full. You got your shoes off and went to place the small desserts in your hand onto the kitchen island.

When you looked behind you, the brunette was choosing a vinyl from her shelf to play, her face concentrated. She chooses one right as you went to sit on the couch, her hand carefully grabbing the disc out its sleeve to gently put on the turntable.

She plays the record and slowly drops the needle down on the vinyl, it eventually playing out a soft, mellow tune, one perfect for dancing.

When you see her walking towards you, you expected nothing more or less than an offer. You smile once she holds her hand out for you, a way to ask you to dance. You hesitate, but you gently take her hand, your body getting pulled up with your heart's answer.

She puts her hands around your waist and starts swaying gently to the music, while you settled with your head on her shoulder, your mind wandering with the thoughts of everything.

Outside, sounds of rainfall starts pattering down. The windows filled with drops of it all, but with the curtains closed you couldn't. Although the noise made it clear that it wasn't the record player, or anything else.

You looked up at Wanda, and you can see her gazing back down at you, her eyes meeting yours softly. A small smile goes on her face, the two of you ever so lost in the love you held.

She whispers softly, "I love you," and your heart did leaps in your chest. You've been together for a while, but she's never said such a sentence until this very moment. It came as a surprise.

"I love you, too." You lean back slightly to look at her more, and you can physically see the happiness that fills her face.

end of chapter 1. <3

Series Masterlist Chapter 2 ->

A/N: I am terribly sorry to say that there won't be this much happiness in the later chapters :')

--------------

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[gales-wizard-wife]

Gale Confession One Shot

This takes place after Ketheric for a more slow burn confession.

I sat at the fire, a chalice of red wine in hand, sipping as I was lost in thought. The others had long fallen asleep and knowing even my trance would be unobtainable I offered to keep watch. Our battle with Ketheric had been weeks ago but even so everyone remained on edge. Numerous Githyanki squads had come for us in the name of Vlaakith and it felt as though we were still far from the end of our plight. That wasn’t what was on my mind, though, and as I took another sip, I wished desperately for the company of someone; Gale. I hadn’t been in love with him for long, although I'd found him charming from the first moment I’d pulled him from that rune all that time ago. 

But when Elminster had appeared with his orders from Mystra, I suddenly found myself cursing a goddess I had so long admired and followed. Now, I would fight her given the chance. To hear that she would send him on a suicide mission had made my blood run cold and I immediately shot down the notion that he could even allow himself to do such a thing for a goddess who had all but forsaken him. He hadn’t agreed, of course. In fact, he’d originally decided to go along with her plan. When the moment came, I begged him to reconsider. Whether it was my words, or perhaps a sudden appreciation for his life, he had decided not to sacrifice himself, to not blow up the orb within his chest to take down the Absolute. I felt at that moment as though I could breathe again. How much longer could I go without telling him the truth now that I knew the true extent of my feelings?

The sudden clearing of someone's throat took me out of my thoughts, causing me to jump. I clearly was not doing a good job of being look out. I looked up, shocked to find Gale standing before me. 

“Keena.” He smiled, causing my heart to flutter. 

“Gale.�� I breathed, feeling nervous.

“Mind if I join you?”

"Not at all.” I moved over a bit, giving him extra space. He sat, his own chalice of wine in hand.

“I hope I didn’t wake you” I sighed, and he chuckled as he sat.

“Wake me? You were silent. Although, I hope I didn’t disturb your thoughts, you looked deep in them.” 

I blushed, turning my head and taking another sip.

We sat in silence, only the sounds of the crackling fire and nature to be heard.

“Are you alright?” He asked and as I turned my head our eyes met, leaving me without a voice for a moment.

“I am.” We stayed like that for a time, gazing at each other, before he spoke again.

“I was hoping for a moment like this with you, while the others are asleep. Could you spare me a moment of your time?” He looked nervous now which caused a deep pit of anxiety to form in my chest. 

         “Of course.” I said and he smiled at that and I blushed even further, and realized I was definitely embarrassing myself.

          “I often think of what would become of everyone, of the world, had I decided to blow myself up to destroy the Absolute. Would all of this be over?” My heart sank at that, something I had thought of more times than I cared to admit. I stayed silent, giving him the chance to speak.

          “But you stopped me, which if I'm being honest, surprised me.” My heart was suddenly in my throat.

          “I couldn't let you kill yourself. I…” I trailed off, unsure of how to finish my sentence.

          “Do you remember the first time we met?” He asked and I suddenly found myself grinning but didn't say anything, curious as to where this was going. “You managed to calm the rune with your own, quite impressive, magic and you pulled me out. A complete stranger, no less, and you saved me.” Where is this going?

           “I felt lucky to be saved. But to be saved by you…” I felt like I couldn't breath suddenly and forced myself to take another drink, I was on the verge of becoming drunk. I'd have to scold Astarion for giving me such a strong wine.

            “You were breathtaking.” I froze, my eyes moving back to him. The look he was giving me was wistful, his eyes alight in the glow of the warm fire.

            “I fell in love with you then.” he said and we were both silent, the fire feeling a little too warm now.

             “I've wanted to tell you for so long, Keena. But I couldn't find the words. Couldn't fight the fear of the possibility that you didn't feel the same.” I couldn't find the words to respond, he didn't seem to mind though as he continued, “I saw how you panicked when I nearly approached the Nether Brain myself, ready to sacrifice myself for the world, for you. And for a moment,” he paused, “for a moment I allowed myself to hope that you felt the same. That you loved me too. And I decided to live on the possibility that I could live for you. That hope was enough to keep me living a life that had lost meaning.” 

           “Gale.” I breathed and we locked eyes once more. With my free hand, I grabbed his, relishing the feeling of his skin against mine, something I had longed for. He looked at our hands and back at me, his eyes asking for more. I leaned in then, no longer able to control myself, and pressed my lips to his. He tasted of wine and the smoke of the fire and him. Suddenly, his arm was around my waist and he pulled me closer, deepening our kiss. It felt as though we were the only two people in faerun. After a moment, I pulled away, our foreheads pressed against each other and our breathing hard.

          “I love you too.” I whispered, not wanting to break our little bubble.

          He smiled, relief clear on his features.

          “Then all you have to do is say the words and I am yours, mind, body and soul.”

          “I'm yours.” I whispered once more and he kissed me again, deep and hungry, pouring all of his love into me.

[generic-sonic-fan]

Carnation

Summary: It's Amy's birthday today!

912 words

---

Weird, Amy thought. None of her friends had accepted her birthday party invitation. They'd only told her to be dressed her cutest and at her door by 10:00 AM on the special day!

Clearly they were planning some sort of surprise for her- or were they? They hadn't told her anything else. She double checked the emails from them on her phone. 10:00 AM. 10:00 AM. 10:00 AM. Oh no, what if something came up and they cancelled and they didn't tell her? Or what if. . .

It's only 9:55, she told herself, wiping the sweat from her palms onto her dress. She was just being impatient. Perhaps waking up at 7:00 to prepare was a little too early.

Amy was jolted from her thoughts by a loud, blaring honk from outside. She sprinted to her door and opened it.

Sitting in her driveway was a pink convertible. Rouge was in the driver's seat. Rouge did not own a pink convertible. Amy decided that she would worry about this fact later, sometime that was not her birthday. The passenger seat was empty, and in the back row sat Omega and Cream.

"GET IN LOSER, WE ARE GOING SHOPPING!"

"That's mean of you to say!" Cream turned and frowned at him.

"NEGATIVE. IT IS A REFERENCE TO AMY'S THIRD FAVORITE MOVIE AND IS IN THIS CONTEXT APPLICABLE."

"Come on babe! We got a seat right for you!" Rouge waved.

Amy dashed to the passenger side door and opened it, sliding into the seat.

"Oh my gosh you guys!" Amy covered her mouth.

Cream unbuckled her seatbelt, crawled onto Omega's lap, and leaned forward to tuck a white-and-red striped carnation into Amy's quills.

"Thank you so much!" Amy said.

Rouge waited until Cream was buckled again before pulling out of the driveway. Once she was on the road, though, Amy could hear her stomp the pedal to the floor. The car shot forward, ducking and weaving through the streets.

"Where's Shadow?" Amy shouted above the air rushing past.

"We made him walk!" Rouge laughed.

"Mr. Shadow said there wasn't enough room to squeeze between me and Omega!" Cream shouted back.

"Ruin my fun, why don't you?"

Amy laughed and shook her head. Suddenly, she felt something flutter past her ear.

"Your flower!" Cream cried.

Omega tried to reach out and catch the carnation from the windstream. The suspension lurched from his sudden shift of weight, but not far enough for his claws to grasp the flower.

"We gotta turn around and go back for it!" Cream cried.

"Hey, calm down! It's just a flower!" Rouge shouted back.

Amy reached her hand back to cream. "It's okay! I enjoyed it while I had it. You can find me another flower later!"

Cream hesitated, before taking her hand. She gave it a squeeze.

---

They emerged from the mall three hours later. Amy hefted two full bangs in her hands. Rouge followed, carrying only one. Omega carried Shadow and Cream on his shoulders.

"Pretty successful day, hmm?" Rouge asked.

"I still don't know where you found all of those coupons! I didn't think it was your style." Amy replied.

Shadow snickered.

"You know what? I'm not going to ask." Amy smiled.

"Good plan, hun." Rouge winked. "Now- where did we park?"

Amy turned to Omega. He usually provided these sorts of exact details- yet his gaze was turned completely away, towards the treeline.

Cream, meanwhile, perked up with a gasp. She hopped off of Omega's shoulder and sprinted out into the parking lot.

"Hey, kiddo! Slow down!" Rouge took off after her.

Cream stopped short of something on the ground and picked it up. She then skipped back to Amy's side.

In her hands was a white-and-red striped carnation, a little worse for wear but otherwise intact.

She held it up to Amy. "You were right! I did find another!"

"It's not a good idea to be picking up random flowers from parking lots." Rouge grumbled.

"No, it's alright." Amy took the flower. "Poor thing just needs to be dusted off, that's all."

She wiped some of the grit from the asphalt from the petals. Parts of the stem were cut, as if by a sharp blade. She supposed that if Omega had tried to catch the flower, his claws might have brushed against the stem, and-

Wait, that was implying that this was the same flower! Which was silly. Someone else must have simply dumped a perfectly beautiful flower for no reason. . .

"Well now we don't have to stop by the florist's." Amy said. "Unless you all still want to, of course?"

"Amy, are you feeling alright?" Shadow asked.

"You know me too well! Of course we're going. I was just kidding with you guys!" Amy smiled. "Onward!"

She raced back to the car, narrowly beating Cream. With Omega and Rouge protesting that they hadn't known there was a race, they piled into the car. With Shadow skating alongside them, they drove off into the city.

Today easily made the list of top birthdays ever.

---

"Should we tell her?" Shadow asked.

"AFFIRMATIVE. SHE WAS BEING STALKED." Omega replied.

"I'm not so sure."

"DESCRIBE, IN DETAIL, HOW TRACKING HER LOCATION AND GIVING HER AN UNWANTED GIFT DOES NOT CONSTITUTE AS STALKING."

"It wasn't a gift. You told me she dropped it earlier."

"IRRELEVANT."

"Fine. But let's wait. I don't want her memory of today being sullied by this."

". . . IF YOU INSIST."

[eldritchqueerture]

For the @malevolent-monthly May prompt "First Dream: John has his first dream or nightmare"!! First time posting in this, hope I did it correctly on ao3 <3

Summary:

For a moment he didn't know what was happening. His whole world shrunk to this one moment in time, this one-track minded fear of unclear origin, and he thought he was dying. He had never been dying before. --- Or, John has a nightmare, followed by an existential crisis over the inevitability of death.

To say John was familiar with death would be a grave understatement. As the King in Yellow he remembered watching lives end, sometimes having a hand in it as well, for time untold; the Dark World in itself was a clear picture in his mind when thinking of the topic. He knew death too intimately for comfort - even Arthur in his frail form had teetered on the edge of it far too many times for John's liking.

But he was never afraid of death. Of the Dark World – absolutely; there had been nothing more frightening to him than that wretched place of shadow and suffering. And perhaps in his previous form, he would not have been able to tell the difference.

It was the second night after they had performed the ritual that granted John his own human body, that he woke up startled and in cold sweat. His heart beat too fast in his chest, his breath shallow, coming in small gasps and never providing enough oxygen. Shakily, he sat up, pulling himself up to lean his back against the headboard, trying to gain back control of his limbs. For a moment he didn't know what was happening. His whole world shrunk to this one moment in time, this one-track minded fear of unclear origin, and he thought he was dying.

He had never been dying before.

Arthur stirred beside him, and John froze, unwilling to wake him up when his body was performing something so inane and out of his control. He had seen Arthur wake up from his nightmares enough times to recognize the similarities to what was happening; he wasn't actually dying for some mysterious, unknown reason - he would be fine if he could just calm the fuck down—

"John?" Arthur's bleary voice made it to his ears from between the pillows, and the man turned to him with a sleepy grunt.

John wanted to say something like 'Go back to sleep', or 'Everything is fine', but he found his voice trapped in the tightness of his throat. His muscles only tensed against the trembling, and the fear surged in his chest.

"John," Arthur whispered more insistently, not having received a response, and grabbed John's arm. "What's wrong?"

His eyebrows drew inward in worry and his voice had that slight tremble of freshly sprouting fear.

"It's fine," John growled, much harsher than he'd intended. He did not move though, and Arthur's hand only gripped him tighter.

“Are we alone? Is everything—”

"Yes, we're alone," John replied in much the same tone. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"I don't know, John," Arthur hissed, now fully awake. "It wouldn't be the first time you woke me up to something wanting to kill us."

John unwittingly drew a breath, that fear surging again despite the somewhat calming familiarity of arguing with Arthur. If something were to kill them...

"What's going on?" Arthur sat up next to him, not taking his hand away. "You're shaking."

But it was stupid, wasn't it? That unknown fear without a cause, without anything that would allow him to control it. He could handle fearing the Dark World, he could handle fearing creatures, and monsters, and people acting like them. This, though? This vague shadow that clung to his every thought, permeating skin, and bone, electrifying every nerve in his body…?

"John, I'm getting worried," Arthur said. "We thought the ritual went well, but if there's something we missed—"

"N-No, it's..." John swallowed tightly. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"I..." He took a breath. "I dreamed."

"Oh..." Arthur blinked in realization, rubbing the skin of John's arm with the thumb. "Not pleasant, I take it?"

John gritted his teeth. Flashes of images that passed through his mind in the night appeared before him; not enough to fully distinguish their content, just vague impressions of dread and pain, leaving him trembling anew with thoughts that all but forced their way into his head. What if Arthur died? What if he died? How would it feel to die? He'd never died before – not really. Even the memory of the split from the King in Yellow that landed him in the Dark World and trapped him in the book had been tainted by this human anatomy and how it processed the world. Even though he knew that the Dark World was what probably awaited them (him and Arthur) after death – and even if not, he knew of other worlds that could potentially be a destination as well – that perspective was clouded, veiled by this massive, roiling fog of fear.

"John, it's alright," Arthur repeated quietly, and John realized he had been talking for some time. "It's alright. Just breathe, okay?"

The sensations came in gradually – first the heaving breath, gasping like a man drowning, then the racing heart that threatened to rip his chest open right there. His muscles trembling, his legs pulled up, body curling in on itself as if that would protect him from the looming prospect. And Arthur's warm arm around his shoulders, his body close, whispering gentle assurances of their safety.

But they were never safe, were they? Humans were so fragile, dying everyday of so many feeble causes. Even now, he could have a heart attack and die. Arthur could trip on his way out of bed and hit his head. How many undetected illnesses had he seen take humans' lives? And that is not even to say what could be after them specifically – Yellow, Kayne, Lilith, whoever else found the idea of killing them amusing.

"John. John, look at me."

Arthur's hands were on his face, gently guiding his head in his direction. He wiped the tears that John couldn’t remember appearing from his cheeks.

"I—I..."

"Talk to me, John," Arthur whispered. "I want to help."

"I don't... I'm... Afraid," John said almost soundlessly, the words somehow sprouting bitter shame in his gut. As if fear wasn't enough.

"You had a nightmare," Arthur said. "Yes?"

John nodded slightly, enough for Arthur to feel it under his hands. His thumb travelled upward, and he tucked John's hair behind his ear – possibly more as a comforting gesture rather than from the need to get the hair out of his face.

"But I don't really... remember it," he spoke. "Not exactly. Just... feelings."

Arthur hummed sympathetically with a nod.

"Do you want to talk about them?" He asked.

"I..." He faltered. "I've never..."

He let out a breath and hang his head forward, closing his eyes. Arthur took that as a cue to wrap his arms around him again.

"It's okay."

"Humans are... afraid of death," John stated in a hushed tone. Arthur blinked in confusion for a second, then he smiled slightly.

"Yes, very much so," he said. "It's probably the one most primal fear, of all animals I think."

"Are you?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows in thought. "Of course. I mean, I probably have some more... deadly experiences on my account than most people would have in a lifetime, but... Yes, John." He tilted his head slightly. "And you?"

"As the King in Yellow I was... immortal," he said. "The concept of dying was something mortals did, something... low. Below me."

Arthur let out a small chuckle.

"Even when I was trapped in your head, I didn't fully comprehend it. I feared returning to the Dark World, I feared... I knew that you could die. But I was never scared for myself. Of—Of my own death."

"Oh, John..."

"And it's... frustrating," John continued, the words unstoppable once allowed to flow freely. "Because I've witnessed countless deaths throughout millennia, I know it's unstoppable and uncontrollable, and—and I had no reason to fear it before. Not like this."

"I can imagine why that would be frustrating," Arthur nodded. "But that fear... I'd say it's one of the most human experiences you can have. Knowing your demise is inevitable and that there is nothing you can do about it."

John looked down at him in slight bewilderment. "How do you... deal with it?"

Arthur let out a laugh. "Everyone has their own ways, I suppose. Religion for one – some people find... solace in the idea of a god waiting for them on the other side. Some people just look for distractions, you know, things that keep their attention in the material world – wealth, power."

"A sense of control."

"I suppose so, yes. Then, you have art."

"Art?"

"Poetry, music, paintings, all sorts of creative endeavours," Arthur said.

"How does that help?" John frowned.

"Well, you don't push those feelings away," Arthur explained intently. "Instead you engage them, you analyse them, and make them... beautiful. But at the same time, familiar."

"And it goes away?"

Arthur laughed again, not unkindly. "I wish, my friend. But no. It never fully goes away. But it can fade."

John grumbled under his breath. He still felt jittery, the cold feeling still cloying at the insides of his chest, but he felt himself relax ever so slightly. Arthur's presence was familiar, and his voice was a gentle music to his ears.

"I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground," Arthur begun reciting. "So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind. Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned with lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned."

John laid his head on Arthur's shoulder, taking a deep, calming breath. He closed his eyes and listened to Arthur's heart beating in time with his words.

"Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you. Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust. A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew, a formula, a phrase remains, —but the best is lost."

His own heart slowed, the trembling subsiding under Arthur's touch. He felt the tendrils of sleep seeking entrance into his mind - the exhaustion of the panic catching up to him - and he relished the haziness that came with it, following Arthur's steady voice.

"The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love, —They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve."

Arthur's voice gained a more intent edge at the last sentence, spoken with a warm breath into John's hair.

"More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world. Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave."

Arthur sniffled. "I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned."

---

The poem is called "Dirge Without Music" by Edna St. Vincent Millay for anyone interested 🥰

[magnoliaroad]

Magnolia Road is Moving + Exciting Projects!

Hi there - Rizu here! It's been about a year since I last posted an update here. Life got really busy and pulled me away from Petz. As life calmed down I had the itch to return to some unfinished petz projects! Here's a look at some of the things I've been working on. The major one being the launch of my new home - Magnolia Road on Neocities! Keep reading for more details!

When I first launched this tumblr blog, I wanted a platform that didn't require a whole lot of set-up to get started. While it has served its usefulness as my first home in the Petz community, I need more room for the amount of content that I'm planning on making.

So I've been quietly working on a complete website overhaul and it's been such a blast. I think it will serve me better as a home for my crew and petz content. For the foreseeable future I am planning on keeping this tumblr for long-form write-ups on Petz things.

Without further ado, check it out here.

Not everything on the website is finished but I've put the 'good enough' stamp on it for now. I'm looking forward to fleshing out the pages more with some exciting content.

On that note...

Projects!

Something that I've wanted to do for a while is to create more custom content for Petz 5. Though Petz 4 is the community favorite, I feel Petz 5 has a lot of nostalgic charm and a lot of potential for quality of life upgrades. Despite Petz 5's glitches and bugs, I've by and large have learned to live around them without too much trouble and largely prefer some aspects of Petz 5 over Petz 4, such as the expanded color palette for playscenes, weather, day/night cycles, being able to carry all the toyz with you, etc.

With the new content that I am working on, I hope to inspire some more love for Petz 5 and make it a more welcoming home for your Petz!

So what am I working on? I've been working on a MASSIVE rework of the Petz 5 playscenes. They are quite dated and an eye-store in some instances.

So here's a sneak peek of what I've got going so far. These are not finished yet so these may change a bit!

I'm going for a Luxury Living theme based off of neutral beiges, greys, and gold, with a touch of rococo. I've painstakingly fixed the window sprites (they're a pixelized mess in the original), replaced the garden backdrop with my renovated back yard (see below), and gave the night scene some gentle spot lighting. No more ugly orange floor and yellow fridge.

Continuing on the Luxury Living theme, the family room gets an upgrade.

This one definitely needs more work before it is done but here's my Cozy Cabin themed room.

I've always disliked the original snow scene in that all the trees look like lifeless lumpy snow blobs. I wanted to bring back some greenery and make the scene look more vibrant. I replaced the really bland skyboxes with more realistic skies, with the night scene featuring an aurora borealis.

Inspired by my love for Lilly Pulitzer prints, this beach remodel is a more colorful upgrade over the original. I've recolored the sand to look more like....sand and less like this weird ugly yellow sand the original had. I'm planning to make a daytime one as well.

Salon upgrade. This one is very incomplete, so expect this one to change a bit. The original dresser is so hideous that it's hard to make it look "better".

And finally, perhaps my pièce de résistance and my most time consuming overhaul was the backyard. The original looks so junky with its broken fence, muted colors, and lack of landscaping. It definitely needed some more life to it. I hope I achieved that with my 4 seasons remake of the back yard. To say it was a challenge is an understatement. I had to make 3 versions for EACH season. Day, night, and stormy versions. So 12 BMPs along with the edited leaf sprites. The fall leaves are not stills - they are recolors of the original animated sprites and move in the actual playscene! I was excited to be able to pull this one off and I'm happy with how it turned out.

And lastly I've reworked the Petz 5 carrying case skin with a template that makes it easy to come up with new carrying case skins quickly.

Here's just one of the many carrying case skins that I have planned. This one matches the pattern featured in the beach remodel.

And there you have it! These are all works in progress and I can't wait to share more updates with you all. As always, thank you for stopping by!

[diagonal-queen]

Maybe Kouyou teaching gn!reader manners in her unique way? 😌

Sakura Kisses

♡ pairing: Kouyou Ozaki x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: Your girlfriend Kouyou teaches you Port Mafia etiquette after you become a new member under her supervision.

♡ wc: 1.1k

♡ cw: Mentions of mafia business including murder, basically just one long conversation between you and Kouyou, reader is a bit of a silly (self-insert much?? I am so silly)

note: I took a couple creative liberties with this one, so...hopefully it's alright lol. This is one of my OLDEST reqs and I'm only now finishing it, I'm so sorry nonnie I love you so much babe and I fucking love Kouyou too man, she's not my favourite girl (LUCY DEFENDER TILL I DIE) but she's amazing nonetheless. When she appeared in Stormbringer I think I screamed. Anyways, apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

"Are you gonna teach me how to differentiate between all those salad forks that princesses use?" You sighed. "I don't wanna do all that. I wanna use ONE fork when I eat."

You really didn't know what to expect when Kouyou had suggested sitting down and giving you an informal lecture on 'mafia etiquette'. As far as you were concerned, those sorts of words were reserved for high-class individuals, and people from before the 20th century. You'd expected your induction into the mafia to involve a lot more active bloodshed; full of action, and littered with corpses of faceless enemies- something like what Chuuya Nakahara had experienced when he first joined, or so you'd heard.

Apparently not. Not when your girlfriend is an executive, anyway.

"No, nothing like that," Kouyou chuckled. "Mafia and monarchy aren't synonyms."

"Well, they're pretty damn fancy though, right? I can only guess by you, at least..."

"You'd be surprised," she replied. "I'm perhaps one of the most...'fancy' individuals in the organisation."

"Is that right?" You raised your eyebrows, curiously. "I dunno...I just assumed organised crime would be organised, like how it is in those old gangster movies."

"Of course, those films aren't based in reality. The Mafia is much more brutal than any screen could display, though I understand you're already aware of it." Kouyou locked eyes with you, her gaze firm. "Yes?"

"...I mean, sure..." you answered, before adjusting in your seat. "Right then. What's the first thing I should know? Like, gimmie the basics."

Kouyou cleared her throat. "There is a rule of transaction here in the Port Mafia. You don't want to be indebted to anyone else here."

"But I'm indebted to you, Kou!" You said. Kouyou chuckled.

"Not me, dear. Nobody else, though. I'm sure if I talk to him I can grant you some mild immunity with Chuuya." She explained. You inhaled, never having met the executive before but having heard stories. He certainly sounded like someone you would want immunity from.

"You and him are close, right?" You asked her.

"Indeed. I did help oversee him when he first joined the mafia, as I'm doing for you now."

"How long ago was that?"

"Seven years ago," Kouyou answered quietly, seemingly remembering the time fondly. "He was rather plucky at that age. He found his rhythm here rather easily, nonetheless."

"Good for him. Bet he was better at it than I am, eh?" You chuckled. Kouyou tilted her head, before bowing her head.

"Don't fret about it, dear. You'll feel more comfortable here in no time, though...you can't be too comfortable. This is the Mafia, after all." She shifted in her seat to better face you. "Now, I'm going to ask you some questions which you'll need to know the answers to in order to...survive here."

"...'survive'?" You slowly repeat the word, as if foreign to your tongue.

"Many lower ranking members, such as assassins and those who run errands for the higher-ups, are rather disposable. Many in my position would have no problem killing you if you were to upset them at all," She explained, her voice calm as if this were completely normal. You hadn't been a part of Kouyou's world for an extremely long time, but you decided to start expecting a lot more death very soon. You knew she was desensitised to it and you were fine with that, but...

"God, that's frightening. I thought you said you could get me some kind of immunity, though."

"I said I'll see what I can do with Chuuya. In all honesty, I believe you two have the capacity to be good friends, so long as you don't anger him."

"Well then, bring on the questions, I guess..." you muttered in reply, before perking up after what you felt to be a brilliant idea popped into your head. "Will you kiss me when I get a question right?"

Kouyou blinked in surprise. "Why, that's..." she partially covered her now-red face with her sleeve. You gave her a smile.

"Please? How else will I motivate myself to do well?" You begged, giving her a slight mock-pout. "Come on, you wanna kiss me, Kouyou. You wanna kiss me sooooo bad, I can tell."

"Fine, fine," she nodded quickly, waving her arm slightly. "I agree to these terms. Are you satisfied?"

"Sure am!" You grinned. "So, go on!"

"Alright..." Kouyou straightened her posture and softly cleared her throat. "If I were to approach you and ask your name, what do you tell me?"

"...my name?" You answered, confused. "You know my name."

"Regardless, you would tell me anyway. When an executive asks a question, they are demanding an answer."

"Right, okay..." You nodded, "Then, my name is Y/F/N."

"If you're asked who you work for, what do you tell them?" She asked. You pursed your lips for a moment.

"...uh, you? Miss Ozaki Kouyou?"

Kouyou shook her head. "You work for the organisation."

"The Port Mafia?"

"Yes. That's your reply. In this line of work you don't answer just to me, you also answer to Ougai."

"Who?"

"The boss of the Port Mafia," she clarified, "the kingpin of the organisation. You must have already seen Mr. Mori with Elise, yes?"

You frowned, confused. "...Elise?"

"The young blonde girl who accompanies him."

"Oh, yeah, her! She's adorable," you said, with a smile. "She's his daughter, right? I mean, I just assumed, but I didn't know if it'd be rude to bring it up at all. They don't look alike, so maybe...adoption? I don't know."

"...no, that's not quite it..." she began, tentatively. "You shouldn't ask about her, though. Don't bring it up in front of them, or anybody for that fact. Perish the thought, now. Simply do not ever think about it."

"...I don't..." you began with a shake of your head, utterly confused. "Okay...sure. Is that another rule?"

"Consider it most crucial," she answered, stone faced. Despite having such a graceful face painted with fine, expensive makeup, her expression was no less unnerving. You could only blink at her.

"...alright. Anything else?"

"'Anything else?'" Kouyou repeated, before releasing an airy giggle. "Certainly- we may be here for some time, my dear."

"Oh, I'll be getting a lot of kisses then," you grinned, and she laughed once more. "Am I right?"

"...you are, yes. In which case..." Kouyou slowly leaned over and brushed her soft red lips against your own. When she drew back, she gave you a small smile. "Well done, my darling."

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl, @kokoenjiandco, @pinkiipeachiikeen

[shrimplymoray]

Perhaps a Deimos x reader where it begin with a car chase, and ends with a calm moment between them? You can add any spin you want on it, be creative :)

Hiiii!! Thank you for my first Madcom Request!! It genuinely made me happy and i've been cooking it on my head all day lol

Deimos x Reader - Calm After the Storm

It was supposed to be a quick mission. Go in, fuck up the cloning machines with the hacking stuff Deimos does while you made sure his back was covered from those damn L33T Agents but oh boy, were you in for a ride. Literally. "Are the Engineers still on our back, sugar?" Deimos asked, barely glancing at you while you made sure to aim at either heads or tires of the classic AAHW Trucks. "That motherfucker is still on the back. Think we can get the rough route to get some time?" You asked while doing the quickest reload you possibly could. Time is imperative to not have a bullet between both of your heads. "I mean, sure, but ya think ya can take care of aiming at em like that?" The teasing tone of Deimos was always present, even during a fucking chase, but you should be used considering you two get paired often enough for missions. "You almost make me want to shoot you instead" "Ya wouldn't do that, i'm too pretty to die" His raspy laugh was met with the side mirror getting shattered by a bullet. With a rough turn, you try getting a good aim at the driver engineer, managing to miss his head and shoot the passenger seat engineer. 1 down, at least. "One down." This kept on for another ten minutes, with a couple broken glass, one broken mirror, one bullet just missing your arm, and the truck front tires being shot near one of the classic Nevadean Cliffs. You didn't even get back on the HQ, just resting for a while to catch your breath. "Fucking damn, we could've like, get a warning of 'Hey there is a high chance of having Engineers there after Hank went for a random walk and came back with two Grunt heads'" You sighed, while bandaging some small injuries you had from the building raid before. "Yeah, well. Nothin' much to do, right?" Dei gave a small chuckle, lighting his cigarette, and coming near you. "Need help there, sugar?" "Nope, all done. Now gimme your hand" "What? Why?" "Just do it, Deimos." Without further resistance, he did, and you just put something on his hand. After he took a look, it was a small mixtape. "Aw, i didn't knew ye were the romantic type, sugar~" "Shut it. This is just so I don't need to pay the broken mirror..." you took a look back at all the fucked up-ness on the car "... mirrors." "Aham... Just say you like me, it's not that hard." "What if I get that broken mirror and shove it far up your ass?" "Aight, A man can try~" Even though you banter a bit, and maybe amuse Deimos a bit, it's not like you hate each other. Perhaps, in other circumstances, you would be able to talk without... "Hey! It's the Wanted guys! Get them!" Well... that.

I AM SO FUCKING RUSTY ON WRITING, I'M SORRY IF IT IS NOT UP TO MY USUAL STANDARD AAAAA. I never wrote anything substantial for Madcom, so this was certainly new for me, and i need to get a little bit better on my personal characterization, but so far I'M PROUD!!

Hope you Enjoy!

[kept-confidence]

Closing Time

This piece began first as a private daydream, Later, it grew into a daydream shared with a newfound friend (@imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese). With that came a wash of creativity over me that I decided, for once, to fully submerge myself in. This is also now on Ao3, found here. The song that I imagine Drifter singing in this piece is titled "Martha", and is sung by Tom Waits. The song that I imagine being played in the scene — the trumpet and piano duet — is titled “Closing Time”, and is also by Tom Waits. This is a personal favourite of mine. Note: I'd highly recommend putting "Closing Time" on when you're at the montage section — I imagine it'd be a nice experience overall while you imagine the scene being described. There is nothing violent here — only tenderness and kindness founded upon a moment of healing. I am no expert in handling tender moments between individuals, and sometimes struggle to describe them. I make up for it, perhaps, in metaphor. I’m always inspired by music, and I guess that’s where the daydream emerged from in the first place. I also cooked this up in a day which is absolutely hilarious (neurospicy brain things). This is my first fic, which is nice, I think. Hope you enjoyed reading this! Comments are hugely appreciated (and I'd love to meet new folks who are into this ship as much as I am).

The door opened slowly with a gentle push, creaking loudly in response to decades of wear and neglect as it swung open and away from the Drifter. For a place that had been left largely abandoned, forgotten, and untouched — likely intentionally by its owner — any sort of movement and sound felt sacrilegious, like intruding upon a sacred space that should have, perhaps, been left alone. 

Drifter breathed a heavy sigh as he hesitated to take a step into what used to be his old bar. It should feel like a place he owns, one that he feels welcome in, he tells himself. But the air responds otherwise — the dominant scent of stale, damp wood rendering it thick, musty, and overbearing. If anything, the air was weighed down heavily by memories of the Drifter's past — of old selves torn away and discarded, of ghosts he'd rather forget, and of a time that no longer seemed welcome nor accessible. It had been weighed down by the burden of change. 

Why had he come here? A rhetorical question to himself, but one that occupied his mind nonetheless. 

Now restless, the Drifter took to rolling his green coin across his knuckles in a bid to calm his mind. Despite this, there was no denying the fact that his breathing had since grown rather shallow and irregular at the prospect of having to enter this forsaken space. Nonetheless, he figured that he'd lingered outside enough. 

"Eh, gotta go in at some point, I guess," he muttered to himself, words trailing off, as he defaulted to erecting a wall of indifference once more. It was, perhaps, what he thought to be the only way to keep himself safe. 

With soft and quiet steps, the Drifter finally stepped into the bar with a sense of trepidation that he wished he didn't have to feel, especially for a place he knew he once had some attachment to. Though he'd expected things to look different, he had to admit that the space of his bar — though theoretically the same as how he'd left it last — felt different. His heart skipped a beat as his senses slowly became more attuned to the apparent dissonance in the once lively (though chaotic) space he owned. After all, the mind can only prepare one so far — the heart, however, will always be tugged along, albeit unwillingly, in directions undesired and unwanted. For someone who had survived so much, who thrived on instability, chaos, and change as a means of putting up walls and abandoning the past, it would seem that for a rare moment, the Drifter would finally admit to himself that he'd been subconsciously wishing for something in his life to, at least, remain the same. 

The silence was piercing — ringing, even. It was in stark contrast to a sonic memory of a boisterous time once filled with excitement and activity. The Drifter could almost imagine the scene that accompanied it, but as he called forth that memory in his mind, the dissonance grew louder and more discordant. He promptly shut the door to that memory, and instead found himself stemming the discomfort by fixating on the sound of his footfalls as he fidgeted and shifted his feet in a bid to punctuate the silence pressing into him. Grounding, as Eris had once taught him. Where these footfalls had once been crisp and confident, heard in tandem with the voices of comrades and enemies both lost to time, they were instead now faint and muted no thanks to the thick layer of dust that blanketed what used to be dry and clean wooden floorboards. As each step unsettled the caked-on dust on the floor, leaving imprints of his boots, the Drifter directed his attention to his footfalls and simply looked. Dust was gently being dislodged, then lifted, and finally fell off the tips and soles of his boots. He could feel it — that each shift, each step, carried with it the heaviness of time, and its burden laid bare for him to witness. Breathing in deeply, Drifter felt the discomfort ease ever so slightly, as he was finally reminded of why he'd come back to the bar in the first place. 

To learn to embrace change while not abandoning the past. It was an answer to his question from before, but one that he knew, acutely, that its execution would not come as easily as hoped. Ideally, the process would happen on its own, without any need for effort — but that would be nothing more than a lofty dream. By this point, there was perhaps no escaping the fact that it was time for him to face his past, head on. 

Before his mind could stray any further, he felt a buzz from the databad tucked neatly beneath his robes. The Drifter retrieved it, and smiled softly when he saw who the message was from. 

EM: Germaine, you are not on the Derelict.  D: Aw Moondust! Missin' me already? You should've just said so!  EM: Answer the question, Rat. Where are you?  D: I'm at the old bar. The one I used to own? From waaaaaaaay before? The one Efrideet trashed?  EM: It's three in the morning, Germaine. What are you doing there? Are you alright? 

The Drifter's fingers hovered in the air for a moment as he contemplated how to reply to her question — specifically, the latter one. Like always, he decided that he'd ignore it. 

D: Catching up on old times, I guess.  EM: I see. You did not answer the second question. Would you like company? 

Caught. Nothing new — Eris always knew. 

D: Yeah. Thanks, Moondust. Seeya in a bit. 

The gentle smile didn't leave the Drifter's face even as he tucked the datapad back in its place. For him, Eris's company was always welcome. But this was even more so true for today — with the weight of the past and of this space still holding him down like a Sisyphean boulder on his sholders. Though he wasn't expecting her to know more about it, or to help him lift it, he imagined that it would, at least, be nice to have her company while he worked though and unravelled the attachment to this place he had long since buried. There was, after all, comfort to be found in the gentle intimacy of vulnerability they had since learned to share in time. 

Just as he'd finished ruminating, the Drifter felt his arm brush against yet another thick layer of dust as he walked past a large, boxy object. He turned, and let out a tiny, silent gasp of awe as he came to realise what was in front of him — it was a piano. It had been such a long time since he'd played one, not to mention seen one in the first place. The piano was no Steinway, of course. Just an upright Baldwin that had been salvaged from way before. The Drifter chuckled as he recalled just how out of tune it was when he had salvaged it, and how he'd managed to tinker with the piano enough that it at least sounded mostly reasonable. For a moment, he wondered if his work had stood the test of time. Orin was convinced that it would. 

He tensed, and held his coin tightly between his thumb and index finger. It was inevitable that the train of thought would lead him down that road. He'd been the one to salvage the piano and to tinker with it, but it was Orin who witnessed all of this happening — who laughed with him, and groaned at him each time he failed to fix the piano's tuning. She was the one who made the memory feel real when it would've otherwise been like any other memory — a generic piece of paper burnt to a crisp. 

This was the memory he'd come to confront. Right as he was about to fall off the edge into a memory-induced panic, the Drifter caught himself and grounded himself once more. Move the coin across the knuckles. Flip it between these fingers, and then the others. Shifting feet. Fidget a little. Grip the coin, then loosen that grip. In that release, the Drifter's tension eased a little as well. 

He dragged himself back into the present moment. In it, there was a quietude that ached in the space around him, as the Drifter took the time to take in the scene laid in front of him. Slowly, he took a few steps back, and gazed softly at the piano. The sight was, frankly, captivating. Moonlight streamed in from the holes in the roof that had since come to plague the bar, touching — even caressing — the piano ever so slightly. In these beams of moonlight, particles of dust travelling in the air were illuminated. For a space where its stillness initially bordered on suffocation, the Drifter finally felt himself attuned to the sensation and observation of the most minute movements. The way his breathing shifted the dust travelling around him, visible through the rays of moonlight. The way the clouds cast shadows on the ground as they momentarily blocked the moonlight. He felt just a little better about being here.  

Feeling inspired by the sight, he pulled out the piano bench and sat on it. No one would have issues with someone playing a piano at the base of Felwinter Peak at three in the morning, of course. Drifter pulled his gloves off, placing them neatly on the top of the piano. He had done so instinctively, as if wanting to truly feel and reminisce the texture of the keys with his own fingers. As he swiped one finger gently across the surface of the piano’s unopened cover, he was reminded once again of change — of time and age. Parts of the dislodged dust now hung on the tip of his finger. The truth is, he didn’t have to do that. He could’ve simply opened the piano cover. Yet, for the Drifter acknowledging that presence of dust, feeling it, and shifting it away, felt like an active recognition and acceptance of a time long gone. Of change.

The Drifter proceeded to lift the cover of the piano, which took a little bit more than a gentle struggle simply because of how long it had been left unopened. It inspired a simple metaphor in his mind — he thought of how the dust, when left undealt with, would work itself into the seams of the piano like a glue that seals all things shut, making it even harder to pry open. He visualized that momentarily in himself, with the dust that had settled into the seams of his own box that contained his heart and his past. It was, indeed, one that he was also struggling a little to open. He would try today, perhaps.

Beneath the cover lay the piano keys. Some were chipped, and some were stuck in a half-pressed position no thanks to the lack of maintenance. But for the Drifter, it was, in fact, the same as he had left it — it had been untouched for decades, chips consistent with his memory, and the sticky keys were still, well, sticky. There was no fixing those, he remembered, chuckling to himself.

It would become clear eventually that for the Drifter, memory is a muscle, and muscle memory never fails. His hands naturally fell into position, and for some strange reason, prepared themselves in the key of D#. He pressed down on the keys ever so delicately — perhaps to him, they seemed so fragile that they might break under the weight of his burdens.

But they didn't, and instead produced a faint chord in D#. He lifted his fingers, and pressed once more — now confident the keys would not crumble under him. The sensation — both of the keys, and of the sound received — was, to him, extremely familiar. Let memory lead, let memory take charge. The heart knows what it needs, he reminded himself. And from there, notes and chords pieced and flowed together, and the Drifter began to play a tune. He knew not what it was titled, or who had sung it originally, but he only remembered hearing it being played once by a visitor to the bar who had kindly asked for permission to play the piano. All he knew about the tune was that it was from the golden age — a song from a time now long gone, now being revisited in the present. 

As he progressed through the instrumental introduction to the song, Eris slipped quietly into the bar, undetected. The Drifter was too immersed in the moment that Eris refused to even think of interrupting it to announce herself. Gently and ever so silently, she perched herself on a bar stool that was still loosely intact, knees crossed, listening to his performance intently. She couldn't help but smile at the sight she was witnessing — but nothing could prepare her for what would come next, as the Drfiter began to sing. 

“Operator, number please It's been so many years Will she remember my old voice While I fight the tears?

Hello, hello there, is this Martha? This is old Tom Frost And I am calling long distance Don’t worry ‘bout the cost

Cause it’s been 40 years or more Now, Martha, please recall Meet me out for coffee Where we’ll talk about it all”

The words fell out of his mouth so naturally like a confession sung aloud to himself. His singing voice was low and ever so slightly gravelly, but there was a genuine tenderness to it a huge shift from his usually crass and sometimes insufferable modes of expression, Eris thought. It felt like a warm embrace — where words held on tightly to harmony, Eris instinctively found herself drawn towards and into the moment as well. As his gravelly voice continued to be sounded out — brushing against and touching her eardrums — a memory resurfaced. Eris couldn't help but recall the first time she ever placed her hand on his cheek as a gesture of care and love. She remembered how he leaned into her hand in return, and most prominently, the sensation of his beard tickling her palm. This felt similar — and it was comforting. 

At the same time, Eris was sure in this moment that her dear Rat was feeling more than just "old times", as he'd preferred to call it. If the lyrics weren't enough proof of this, the melancholic instrumental lines that accompanied the song were. In this song was nostalgia tinged with grief — a wistfulness of love once found and later lost, of time spent searching to no avail. She took a look around the bar and was met with the same scene of moonlight the Drifter had seen earlier. If he feels it's too much, he will know he's at least surrounded by moonlight, she thought to herself, reassuringly. 

Meanwhile, the Drifter continued: 

“And those were the days of roses, poetry and prose And, Martha, all I had was you, and all you had was me There was no tomorrows, we'd packed away our sorrows And we saved them for a rainy day

And I feel so much older now And you're much older too How's your husband and how's the kids? You know that I got married too?

Lucky that you found someone To make you feel secure Cause we were all so young and foolish Now we are mature”

As the chorus made its first iteration, it was evident by now that Martha, for the Drifter, was undoubtedly Orin. The mood in the air was suffused with a warm, gentle longing to revisit the past, to catch up with an old friend, an old lover. To simply ask, how are you doing? Perhaps it might've seemed that the Drifter was singing this to or for Orin, but Eris knew better than that. Despite the clear dedication to Martha drawn out by the lyrics — the incessant yearning and desire to return to the past — Eris had no doubt that her Rat was instead singing to his memory of Orin and his past experiences with her. He was, through this song, acknowledging the reality of his past — one that he had, at many times, tried to shut away with bursts of denial and detachment. The intention here was indeed very different. 

The chorus looped around a second time, and then:

“And I was always so impulsive I guess that I still am And all that really mattered then Was that I was a man

I guess that our being together Was never meant to be And Martha, Martha I love you, can't you see?”

Eris heard the Drifter stutter a little on the last line, his voice shaking as he held the last note for a second. And then he paused for a moment, hands laid on the keys, but frozen in time.

He said nothing for a while, and ruminated. Eris watched, but chose not to intervene — this was an important moment for him, one reserved for himself, and she would respect that. 

Finally, in the now drawn-out silence, he said to himself, quietly: "I loved you, Orin. This dude who wrote the lyric's still hung up on Martha. But for me? I don't love you. Not anymore. I loved you." Eris held her breath and clutched her Ahamkara bone closer to her chest as she heard the Drifter draw out the end of the word 'loved', clearly juxtaposed against the present, and original 'love' written into the song. She let go of that breath, and smiled. It was not that she needed reassurance — that safety and security had long been found in the foundation of their friendship and relationship. Instead, she simply felt a sense of pride for her dear Rat, who had finally taken active steps to work through the grief he had amassed in his heart from his time with Orin and beyond. It was no wonder that she had grown to love this man so very much — at no point in the time they knew each other did he ever expect her to fix his grief and his heart, and all he ever asked for, as she had now grown accustomed to providing, was her company through it all. 

Picking up his playing once more, the Drifter worked his way through the final chorus, before concluding the song with the words: 

"And I remember quiet evenings Trembling close to you.”

The last note from the piano resonated in the space of the bar, before the song faded into a final, concrete silence. The Drifter exhaled — it was a heavy one, but one that also seemed to bring him relief, as if he'd finally come to terms with what it meant to let go. He removed his hands from the keys, and proceeded to place them by his side as he pressed them softly into the bench. He gazed upwards, looking through one of the holes of the roof where the moonlight seemed to be pouring in from. It was a tiny whisper directed at the ray of moonlight, but one audible enough for Eris to hear from where she was seated. 

"Thanks for keeping me company through it, random ray of moonlight." 

Eris rose from the bar stool, finally making her presence known. And though slightly startled, the Drifter wasn't shocked enough to whip out Trust — he had been expecting her after all, though he had frankly no idea how long she'd been behind him all this while. 

"You're welcome," she said, smiling, while crossing the bar towards him, still seated at the piano. In response, he scooted over to the side as an invitation for her to sit beside him. She does. 

There was a moment of gentle silence — the air was no longer as still as it once was, and it was quiet enough that they could hear each other breathe almost in unison. She placed her hand over his, and he turned his palm over to intertwine their fingers together. He thought about asking her how long she'd been there for, but held back because he could already guess the answer to that. 

"That was beautiful, Germaine. How do you feel?" Eris asked, in hushed tones. 

For a man usually of many words, the Drifter struggled to gather any of a proper response. He simply sighed, and squeezed her hand, gazing at the moonlight through the roof once more. There was a warmth in his gesture, as if to say, I'm working through it still, but thank you for being here. She squeezed his in return, gently drawing circles on his hand with her thumb, as if to respond with take your time, I'm here, and I'll stay. With yet another sigh, he leaned over, and positioned his head on her shoulder, snuggling softly into the space that he'd already claimed as his multiple times. She turned her head to kiss him on his forehead, before simply leaning her head on his. 

It wasn't clear if he had started to cry, or was simply taking in the moment. He might have — but that was something meant only for Eris's eyes, and no one else. A private moment between the two. There was, perhaps, no need to know as well. Not everything needs to be witnessed, not everything needs to be known.

-------

It felt like a scene from a film. A montage of quiet, gentle moments.

scene begins, all dark; "closing time" by tom waits begins to play. a duet between a wistful trumpet and a plangent piano resonates in the air.  cut / close-up shot of the hole in the roof. moonlight is pouring in through it, and a crescent moon can be seen from the hole — clouds drift past in front of it.  cut / various still shots of the bar in disrepair — broken chairs, rotting wood, layers of dust, torn curtains at the windows.  cut / a still shot, now framing the back of the drifter and eris sitting side by side on the piano bench, the drifter's head on her shoulder, her head lying on his in return. cut / a close-up, still shot of fingers interlaced with each other.  cut / return to previous still shot of the drifter and eris on the piano bench, now pulling away with a backwards dolly. the two are now framed in relation to the larger space of the bar — as well as the moonlight. the camera remains in this position for a significant amount of time compared to the previous shots. cut / fade to black. the song is still playing. two sets of footfalls are heard — the heavy sort made from boots, though one is notably softer than the other. the sound of these footfalls pan from the far centre, closer to the front, and finally to the left. a door is heard creaking open, and then closed. the footfalls fade into the distance.  song fades into silence.  end scene. 

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 15: Emily's Last Meal

Masterlist

September 1925

TW: captivity, mind control, covert brainwashing, Emily POV

Emily spent the entire afternoon curled up in a ball on her cot, wishing there were anything she could do to take her mind off of her situation. She'd like to go to sleep, even though the lights were still on, but sleep wasn't coming.

Lily had taken Oliver again, which meant the next time she saw him he'd most likely be glassy eyed and spouting pro-vampire nonsense, robbing her of the only person in the place she could at least hold a conversation with. 

Even though he was a victim as much as she was, she wasn't especially inclined to feel charitable towards him right now. She had hardly slept a wink since she'd been dragged into these cells, and the sleep deprivation had been making her especially irritable, a raw nerve that kept being poked. And last night had been the worst night at all, because Oliver had spent the entire lights-out period chanting hypnotic mantras, loud enough for Emily to hear. There had been a steady drone of "obedience is pleasure" and "no desire to resist" the entire night with only brief respites. Not only was it disruptive, but Emily had actively fought sleep, not wanting to fall asleep with hypnotic chanting softening her mind.

The vampire guards who were so quick to crack down on unwanted noises did nothing about this, of course. Emily suspected that Lily had engineered this to take down both her and Oliver at once, a two-for-one special.

It wasn't Oliver's fault, and she knew that. Her annoyance should be directed towards Lily and their vampire captors, and it mostly was. But she still very much wasn't in the mood to speak to him when Oliver returned, completely unguarded, wearing a simple white kind of frock dress and looking quite serene.

"What are you wearing, Oliver?" 

"Miss Lily gave me these clothes and let me shower," he explained. He was standing in front of her cell and none of the vampires seemed to care.

A lost cause, she thought, and hated herself for thinking so.

"And she told me to tell you that she'll be inducing you very soon."

Emily felt her mouth go dry, a cold pit of fear in her stomach. Of course, she expected this. She'd known what was coming. That didn't make it any easier.

"I know you're scared of it, Emily, but it's really not that bad," said Oliver in a tone that was probably meant to be reassuring. "She didn't take my mind that much at all. I still feel like myself, I just don't have any desire to escape, and I want to obey whatever the vampires tell me to do. That's not that bad, right?"

Oh, Oliver was such a lost cause. And she was next in line.

"Are you listening to yourself? You think that wanting to obey the vampires, the vampires who kidnapped us and are holding us in prison to sell -- you think that's okay?"

Something briefly flashed in Oliver's eyes, a spark of life. "I think it's... I think it's our reality," he said. "And if we have to be here... is it so bad if they make us want to obey? It's easier, and will help us survive. That makes sense, right?"

"I don't really care what makes sense," she said. "I don't want to be a slave. I don't want a vampire erasing my free will. I don't want some monster feeding off of me -- or did they make you forget that they were going to do that, too?"

"I didn't," he said. "You're probably not going to believe me, but Miss Lily showed me a little of what it would be like, and it wasn't nearly as bad as I had imagined. I'm not sure how to explain it without sounding crazy, though."

"It sounds crazy because it is crazy. Because you're totally under their spell now. What about your bookshop? Your former life?"

Oliver's calm facade broke a bit as he looked down at his feet. "...I'm not getting those back, I don't think," he said. "I... um. Perhaps this is an awkward question, but how hypnotized am I, actually? I feel fine, but..."

"I think Lily's gotten so far in your head that you can't even tell how much any more. I'm sorry."

"...I suspected that might be the case."

"Do you want me to try and snap you out of it?"

"No. I have no desire to resist," he said, automatically.

Oh, this poor man.

She should save him. She should try to wake him up again. But she was exhausted, and knew how futile it would be. Even if she could make a dent in Lily's influence, she'd only just take him again. He was no doubt going to keep her up again all night with chanted mantras.

She felt selfish, heartless, but she'd been running her whole life. Running from her family, from her awful, alcohol soaked father, from abusive lovers, from poverty. And now it might actually be the end of the line, and she was so, so tired, and Oliver was so obviously a lost cause.

They both were. She was going to die down here in everything but the technical sense, giving her life for a vampire's pleasure. Few would miss her or even notice she was gone.

"They're bringing dinner now, Emily. I'd better get back in my cell," Oliver said. "And... I'm sorry that I can't help you. I really am."

"I'm sorry, too, Oliver."

Dinner arrived, and it was a heaping plate of roast turkey and gravy with mashed potatoes, peas, and a slice of apple pie, of all things. Imagine apple pie baked and served by vampires! It smelled heavenly and it was the largest meal they'd served yet. She couldn't help but be suspicious. 

She knew that no matter how suspicious she was, she'd cave and eat it in a few minutes at most. She'd been hungry enough in her life that she couldn't bear not to eat hot, fresh food when it was right in front of her face, especially since it hadn't been drugged or poisoned up until now. She hated herself for how eagerly she ate the vampires' prison food, cleaning her plate every time, and that it was the best fed she'd been in ages. 

This was no exception, the kind of meal she dreamed about on nights when she'd had to content herself with half a can of beans or a single mashed potato. At least if this was her last meal as herself, it was a decent one.

The lights snapped off, and she'd barely had enough time to brace herself before Oliver started up the mantras again. "Obedience is pleasure," he said, in a thick, drowsy voice. "No desire to resist. Too tired to resist. Hopeless to resist..."

Emily furrowed her brow. That seemed directly pointed at her. Lily was trying to wear her down, she just knew it. Whatever she did, she couldn't sleep tonight, couldn't let those thoughts be drilled into her brain.

She sat, and stared into the pitch black gloom, and tried to think of anything, anything at all. Old friends. New paints. A pint of cheap beer. Fall leaves. The view from the Oak Street Bridge. 

Too tired to resist...

She was never getting out of here, was she?

She was so sleep deprived, and her stomach was comfortably full, and the cells were always kept warm...

She didn't realize it when her head began to nod, her thoughts swirling into nightmares of a vampire pinning her down and drinking from her neck, draining her energy and life, all the while Oliver's voice droned on about obedience.

And she didn't, at first, realize it when Oliver's droning voice mixed with Lily's.

"Obedience is pleasure. You're too tired to resist, Emily, much too tired," said a calm and soothing voice close by.

Emily stirred. She wasn't in her bed. She was being... held? Carried. 

"Shhh, Emily, relax. Go back to sleep. You're so tired," said Lily. "And you're already under my spell. There's nothing to fight. Go back to sleep."

A nightmare? It had to be. "I'm not..." she protested, trying to wake up. Why was it so hard? She cracked her eyelids open. Lily was looking down at her while carrying her in her arms.

"Of course you are, dear. Even the most defiant human must sleep, and even the most defiant human mind is vulnerable while sleeping," she said, as though explaining to a child. "Sleep now, go back to sleep. You're too tired to resist."

This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening now. She felt herself slipping back into slumber against her will, clawing her consciousness back from the brink.

"You're not going to have me," she said, fighting the haze that threatened to swallow her.

"Oh, pet, I've subdued a hundred girls like you and I'll subdue a hundred more after," she said. "Now hush, and go back to sleep."

Part Fourteen >> Masterlist >> Part Sixteen

Thank you for reading this story about Emily.

Tag list - please note if you'd like to be added

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps

[dreadsuitsamus]

I have a request! Remember the scene in the movie where Paragus uses the shock collar on Broly? Well, can I request a short one shot where he uses the collar, & the reader comforts Broly when the two are alone? Maybe a timeskip to his battle with Goku, where he sees the reader & calms down upon remembering the kindness she showed him? Please??

author's note: i hope you've been enjoying these! i assume you're the same anon since my only requests have been broly lol i ended up feeling very lovey for broly as i wrote this, as you'll find out when you read! i'm not sorry for being a romantic sometimes :p i created a bit of a new species in this and may expand on it in the future! i didn't expand on it very much so i apologize! i also have changed the prompt just a tad, as far as the timing goes when Broly calms down. also i'm very tired but wanted to write this story so if things don't make sense i am very sorry

pairing: broly x fem!reader

warnings: parental abuse, shock torture (as it is in canon)

Solace | Broly x Reader |

Broly sits by himself in an empty room, having managed to get away from his father and his new acquaintances. His father had shocked him again, but he couldn't understand why his father couldn't see what that awful man was trying to do. Broly had never voiced it to Paragus, he hardly ever even wanted to think of it in his own mind, but he hated how his father used that collar on him, and in his heart he harbored those deep feelings of hatred.

He looks up when the door to the room opens, the light flicking on. He immediately looks away from the person at the door, but even in his sadness from being electrocuted again, he takes note of the attractiveness of the stranger.

"This is new." You murmur and step in, setting your chestplate down. "Ah... You're the guy from the cafeteria, right?"

"My name is Broly." He murmurs softly. "Is... This your room?"

"Mhm." You slip off your boots. "You can hide out here though. After what the old guy did, I don't blame you for finding a quiet place to yourself."

Broly's lips quirk to the side. He's not sure what to make of you. You seem to... Be on his side and not agree with his father's actions. Cheelai had also seemed to feel that way. Perhaps... His father was the one in the wrong?

It felt like a sin to think of his father like that.

"Thank you very much." He says after a beat, remembering to mind his manners on his own, for once.

"Don't mention it." You're in your blue under-armor now as you sit at your small round table with him. "You're the only company I've ever had in here."

"How come?" As far as Broly is concerned, you're kind and beautiful, and he would visit you all the time if he were someone living on this ship.

You chuckle to yourself, tapping your nails absentmindedly on the mahogany table. "Because I hate everyone on this damn ship."

"Oh." Broly frowns.

"Not to trauma-dump, but I was sold about ten years ago by my own father and haven't been home since."

"Your father? He... Sold you?"

"Mhm. I didn't even know you could sell a thirty-year-old that doesn't live with you, but he did it anyway."

"I'm sorry he did that." Broly's brows come together in a deep frown.

You laugh a little, and even with his lack of social interaction, Broly knows it's not because you find anything humorous. "It was that or be pillaged by the pirates that invaded us. They were eventually killed by Frieza and that's how I ended up working under him. I only wish to go home."

"... My father told me about my species growing up. He says we're a proud race of warriors."

You nod your head. "What are you?"

"A Saiyan."

Your eyes widen. "Wow. I can't believe there's more of you besides Goku and Vegeta."

Broly looks down at the table. "My father and I were told about... that... when we were discovered..."

"Ah, man... I can't say much about the Saiyans since I was so young when Frieza blew up Planet Vegeta, but I'm sure you would've been a good fit. You look every bit a warrior."

"Really?" He looks into your eyes.

"Sure. Big, tall, with muscles that could break anyone in two... You don't got the scary, pillaging personality though." You wink. "So as far as I can tell... You're a pretty perfect guy."

Broly's cheeks heat up and he could never explain why, but his eyes dart to your chest for just a split second, and you can see just a bit of red on his tanned cheeks. You laugh softly and lean forward a little. "Now that I think about it, have you ever seen a woman until today?"

"I... N-No." Broly mumbles, looking away.

"Hmm. You're an interesting fella, Broly."

"Thank... You?" He's really not sure if that's a good or bad thing, so he figures that erring on the side of using his manners will be best.

"Tell me about you. What's that green pelt you're wearing?"

Broly quietly launches into the story of Ba, of how he was his only friend and how his father ruined it for him. In fact, every story he tells seems to end with Paragus somehow destroying happiness for Broly. At forty-one years of age, it doesn't sound to you like he's ever had one day to enjoy life. And with how horrible that planet he was stuck on was, you weren't surprised. He'd been attacked every day!

Your heart feels a pang of sadness at his story. Oh how you wish to bathe him in the love of your home planet...

You smile a little and stand up, heading to your small chest of drawers and pulling out a small pendant. "I doubt you're gonna be on the ship long, I may not even see you again, so... Here. To remember me." You bring it to him, setting the small thing onto his large palm.

Broly looks up at you for just a few seconds, taking in your smile and sparkling eyes and wondering how someone could be so charming, before looking at what you've gifted to him. It's a small, golden, diamond-shaped pendant on a golden chain, an engraving in the center of what looked like an elegant flower.

Broly rubs his thumb over it. "It's beautiful."

"Thank you. The flower is the one of my people. It can only be found on my planet. I'm sure if I could ever go back home that they'd be everywhere, just waiting to be picked and used for decoration, cooking, medicine..." You look out the window, Broly studying how wistful you look. He wonders what it's like to have a home worth missing, that wasn't uninhabitable and didn't attempt to kill him every day.

Broly holds the pendant back out to you, but you gently close his fist around it and push it to his chest. "Keep it. I'll always have home with me in my memories. And my body." You chuckle softly and pull your undersuit down enough to show him a tattoo at your collarbone of the same flower. "The zantedeschia stays with me always."

Broly reaches his hand out, and you allow him to touch your tattoo. He gently traces the elegant, black outline. "You're warm." He mumbles.

"So are you." You murmur, looking into Broly's curious eyes as he traces the zantedeschia tattoo. "So is Albomaculata."

"Is that your home?"

You nod, putting your hand on top of his. "We're a beautiful species. Home is so lovely, so nurturing, so gentle and romantic and different from anywhere else... We're not fighters." You mutter. "I suppose we're the opposite of Saiyans. We're lovers."

"Saiyans love too." Broly counters gently.

You smile and brush some hair out of his face. "Hmm... That's an interesting thought."

There's a sudden commotion outside, and you hear the voice of the old man from earlier, who you've assumed is Broly's father. You look back at Broly and swipe your finger down his nose playfully. "Guess you'd better go, huh?"

Broly scrunches his nose cutely, but does stand and gently remove his hand from your chest, instead moving it to the shock collar on him. Fear strikes in his eyes. "I.. I should."

"Goodbye, Broly. I hope we meet again."

He moves for the door, and when he turns around one last time, all he sees is your naked silhouette bathed in the light of the bathroom. He blinks slowly, committing the beauty to his memory before stepping out of the room and finding his father.

Broly's been thrust into battle sometime after he parted ways with you, and he's lost himself in his rage. His father is dead now, and it's probably all his fault. Before him is Gogeta, the fusion of the only other full-blooded Saiyans left.

You watch from the ship, scared for your friend as he faces off against the new challenger. He's losing badly, and it's looking like they'll kill him. And god dammit he doesn't deserve to die like this.

You push the two lower-ranking soldiers away from the Dragon Balls, ignoring their protests as you make your wish to the giant green dragon.

"Save Broly and send us to Albomaculata!"

You close your eyes, and within a flash, you feel yourself surrounded by the warm air of home. You open your eyes and look around for Broly, praying you weren't too late. You then see the glowing form of your new friend, his body smaller now and close to his normal size.

"Broly?" You whisper.

Broly turns with a shout, in between the beast within and his normal, gentle self. You hold your hands up and he pauses, the glowing fluctuating. You take a shaky breath and carefully ease down the undersuit, revealing your tattoo to Broly once again. "Broly... The zantedeschia stays with me always. And it can be with you too... We're on my home planet."

Broly's wide eyes look around and he realizes he's surrounded by several zantedeschia of many colors, ones he's never even seen before in his life. The planet is vibrant and the air around him is so clean and lovely it's intoxicating. He finally relaxes into his base form, falling onto the field of flowers, breathing heavily and still looking around.

"How...?"

You kneel between his legs and hug him tightly. "I made a wish. Those Dragon Balls are pretty handy... But we're here, Broly. My home." You smile, tears in your eyes. "We're safe here."

"You saved me?" Broly whispers, his hand coming to rest on your tattoo again. It's a comfort to him, your warm skin underneath his palm.

"Of course." You murmur. "You deserved so much more... I could only imagine showing you life on Albomaculata. No pain, no suffering... Just beautiful things."

"You are beautiful."

You smile at him and place a blue and white zantedeschia in his hair. He feels hazy and blinks slowly, drunk at the effects of the flowers and the air, not yet used to the romantic aura of the planet. He looks at you and smiles with hooded eyes. "The... zantedeschia is... with me?"

"Yes. And I'm with you too." You whisper, rubbing his chest and coaxing him to sleep. And when he wakes, you'll show him all of the love and life and colors he's missed out on. Your heart is already giddy at the thought of being home again and sharing it with Broly, giving him everything he's missed out on throughout his life.

[perilegs]

8, 13 for moss/fenris :3

thank youu!!! <33 questions from here

How do they communicate with each other? Are there any recurring phrases or gestures unique to their relationship?

Oh I love this question! I can't say I've thought of this much for these two, but I am thinking of it now. Fenris and Moss have known each other for long enough to have developed Meaningful Looks™. Neither one of them is afraid to keep their mouths shut (Moss being incapable of doing so), but sometimes, people don't need to say anything to communicate something. It's a classic for a reason I think, you know, just two people looking at each other, knowing exactly what the other is thinking. Though this isn't unique to Fenris and Moss as this happens with most ppl who have known each other for a long time.

They definitely have their fair share of inside jokes too, but I haven't decided what they are yet.

Do they have any disdain/contempt for each other? How do they show it?

Moss is a blood mage and Fenris' opinions in the beginning on mages in general is what it is. Also, they both tend to end up together in high-stress situations which leave them fairly reactive (which is understandable), and they end up saying things that hurt the other.

Though Fenris is capable of going to cool off (i.e. him leaving after "What has magic touched that it doesn't spoil" Also, he will apologize for saying things he didn't mean (Act2 AND Act3 romance)), and Moss has near endless patience for Fenris when it comes to most things. Both of them try to understand, where the other is coming from, and their values tend to align, so I wouldn't say there's too much disdain.

However neither of them is a perfect person so there is some mild disdain. Moss definitely tends to be a bit tactless or inconsiderate (joking about Fenris' memories coming back, Fenris responding with "Perhaps you don't realize how upsetting this is"). And, well, Fenris is more emotionally stable than Moss is, but he is also capable of hurting his feelings (Bringing up Moss' dead sister and mother on the topic of why magic is bad).

Also Moss would wait until the ends of time itself for Fenris, but, Fenris putting up his walls and leaving Moss for those three years did hurt him a bit, though I don't think that has caused any disdain.

I think they both tend to show any of their possible disdain in the heat of the moment, but I don't think either of them is particularly petty or stays angry for long, so they have made up after all their arguments as far as I can remember. That doesn't mean any disdain is just erased, they just, calm down.

[forgottnseccnd]

@wayward40k continued from here.

The helmed Primarch looked at Serge with a little sparkle in his eyes-- for once, he seemed to have regained some of his confidence from the olden days. It... was odd, being able to stand, to touch, to feel, away from the wall of the engines room. An auramite hand took Serge's own, shockingly gentle with his hold as he focused his mind. Perhaps he could offer some extra power, if only to make him far more tangible and give Serge some extra energy.

With his other large hand placing itself onto Serge's shoulder, the Primarch breathed out as if to calm himself. Though, he was already calm... mostly. He was only focusing his mind on Serge, trying to channel some of his own energy to the shapeshifter.

" ... Well, I will still make sure I do not step on your feet. " Aurelius hummed... and the dance began.

Understandably, Aurelius was... not the most graceful in this state. His legs often wobbled like a newborn Grox's and sometimes he nearly tripped over himself, but he kept to his word. Despite his fumbles, he didn't step on Serge's foot and made sure to move in ways where he wouldn't actually pull Serge down with him-- even if he didn't need to worry about that too much.

It was... a little odd, doing something like this. For ages, he was used to the shocking pains of volts going through his body, the mental exhaustion of trying to constantly fight the whispers of Chaos that tried so hard to tempt him... but this was... calm. Gentle.

It felt like the old days. He remembered something like this before.

A grand celebration-- music played throughout Holy Terra as the arrival of Ferrus Manus was celebrated and yet it had secretly lauded his own arrival-- Aurelius had not been one for grand parties, he was terrified of socialization of any kind back in the day from how he had been so used to his home planet of Iskaarre. He wore the best attire for it, wore his best mask. And... while perhaps a bit embarrassing, he remembered dancing with his mother while she carefully guided her son through the balldancing she learned. To impress someone now that you're like a prince! She had told him.

This was something so simple... but he cherished it. Aurelius furrowed his brows a little as he tried to continue his steps.

" Y-You are far more skilled than I. I am... out of practice. "

[thedemises]

note!... woo! 1,290 words this time, and im quite proud of this myself ngl. i came up with the idea of reader becoming so irritated to the point of threatening a shopkeeper for lying about the exact amount of berries that they gave him (does that summary make sense?)—and also, the shop owner refers to the reader with the usage of the ‘she’ feminine pronoun once but no one really cares in this scenario (unless that makes you uncomfortable, then im sorry—i can't predict everyone's pronouns and not everybody's the same, the world would be boring if it were like that though). reader is implied to be taller and swears fairly quite a lot in this one-

━━.  MONEY COUNT。straw hats scenario!!

as much as you tried to keep your cool calm and steady and not go boiling to the point of going berserk, unbeknownst to the shopkeeper of the store, your patience was running thin when a second passes.

staring down at the shopkeeper, you attempted to not show any signs of irritation but the twitching in your eye says otherwise. you could say that you were glad he didn't notice—but at the same time, you wanted him to see you slowly get into a state of boiling exasperation.

it was supposed to be a simple task to restock the ship after docking on the island; go in, tell the owner what you needed, pay, and get back to the ship—simple, right? however, of course, this shopkeeper—despite appearing to be a relatively frail, old man—had to be an absolute asshole. and for what reason did he had to be one? putting aside that he might know you're a pirate beforehand—it'd be little to none.

as the old geezer harshly tells you to give him the “correct” amount, your hand subconsciously flexes and clench your fist with your thumb inside all your fingers—squeezing hard enough for you to crack a joint in your thumb painlessly.

going through your assorted memories in your head, you knew for a fact that from the back of your mind—you counted the money correctly although the man before you keeps making false statements about it. hell—your ship's navigator, nami, had counted out that exact amount ahead of time and that woman was so tight about money that not only was she rarely that far off, but there’s no possible way you, or she, could've ‘miscounted’ according to you.

standing face-to-face with the store owner with the berries in your hand (one that isn't clenched into a fist; yet shaking in visible anger), you were seconds before bursting into an eruption of negative emotions at the man who woke up and decides to play the role of “The Jerk” on a thursday morning—which you did, but through actions instead.

a loud bang suddenly vibrates through the air which made the shopkeeper flinch violently and shut his mouth quick, simultaneously his hands were up in defense position as he draws his attention away from you and his spooked eyes travel towards to the double-headed spear you've brung along with you (who knows how long he hadn't noticed the weapon you sported since you entered the shop), which had one of the two blades stuck into the wood of the table that separates both the buyer and the seller, nudged well into it that the wood might break into two if you pressed down any further.

silence emits the air for a few seconds, besides your deep breathing that could be heard as much as you tried to slow it down and not express your intense irritation to the owner—although he could already sense your anger.

a chuckle slips from your tongue, your adam's apple bopping slightly. “oh? but  i'm sorry, sir, i am certain that i counted the correct amount—” —the corners of your own lips upturn as you continue, “—even a friend of mine did it herself. there isn't a chance that both of us could perhaps be...” slowly, you lift your head up and stare into his eyes with your own blank intimidating ones—a threatening grin sports your features and the matching menacing glint in your eyes never fades, making the shop owner's fear of you increase now that he realizes the upcoming situation.

“wrong?” you could feel yourself laughing even more as you added on more threat-laced sentences after the other. “i don't give a shitty damn that you already knew i'm a pirate, i'm still a customer nonetheless, no?” you hum with a perked eyebrow, almost mocking him in some way.

“well—”

“oh, i see.. how about i just show you every way that you could be obviously wrong about this, you old scummy son of a dead bitch—”

just then, a bang similar to the one but louder before interrupts the one-sided-argument-turning-interrogation—making the frightened shopkeeper flinch once again at the noisiness.

“hey [name]! there you are!!” luffy’s upbeat voice called and vibrates through the tense air of the store, his iconic smile greeting you when you glanced over. following him after on his two sides were roronoa zoro and sanji, both simply glared at the owner you were about to spill the most unthinkable threats you could've thought of at the top of your head. to this, you sigh and force your spear to hodge itself out of the table's wood which left a evident scar—a silent threat from you to the shopkeeper.

“nami said you were late so we came to check on you.” luffy explains briefly before he noticed the fearful expression on the shop owner's face and appears confused for a moment. “huh? why does that guy look so afraid? did you do something?” the straw hat captain looks you for an answer.

sanji was the second one to speak up, as zoro scans the shop's interior. “[name]-san, do you mind telling us what’s going on here?” asked the cook as he walks up to you and checks your face closely with narrowed eyes.

“did he hurt you anywhere?” the shopkeeper takes the chance to speak up for once in a while, his voice trembling in the remaining fear you made him feel. “th- that wretched brat didn’t pay me the exact amount!” he takes a shallow breath in, sweating building up around his neck, “she still owes me at least a bit more berries because of that!” the man yells, pointing an accusing finger at you—to which you scoffed at and simultaneously rolled your eyes, directing your hued-gaze down at the blond man standing beside you.

“that asshole is telling bullshit after bullshit i tell you,” you grumbled, placing a hand in your hip as you switch to different position to your taste, almost in a similar pose the cook of the straw hats crew.

“listen, that man keeps telling my ear off how incorrect the amount of money i had on hand,” you show the same count of berries in your grasp, the amount of money that nami had given you beforehand. “the geezer denies every time i tried to correct him that what i had was the right amount according to nami and i—heck, i even counted it in front of his two eyes but he wouldn't fucking listen to a thing i said—” you snapped your head to his direction, glaring at the owner mercilessly. “it's like you were born to have ears never meant to be used for.”

“what?!”

speak of the devil, nami herself was also there miraculously. you greeted her with a lazy wave of your hand as you watched nami storm off herself on confronting the shopkeeper soon as you let her have the cash you previously had in your grasp—the young, ginger-haired woman was practically breathing flames on the tip of her tongue with teeth akin to of a shark. it was sort of funny but satisfying to see the look on the old guy's face.

as you were lead away with nico robin, least to say that all of you relatively got what you needed on the thousand sunny for a few weeks sailing on the vast, deep blue sea—awaiting the upcoming adventures you may come across.

© thedemises 2024. all rights reserved.  ━━  slightly inspired by that one scene of chapter 32 in the bungō stray dogs manga.

[loopspoop]

He felt so cold. Had he passed out in the snow? He couldn't quite remember. He was lying on some kind of leather, covered in fabric, and there were subtle vibrations coming from somewhere. He was in a car. It was almost calming. Though the constant jerking from someone alternating between the gas and brake was definitely jarring. He wanted to turn over to see more. But he no longer had the energy to do so. He squashed his face into the seat to attempt to disappear from the world altogether. The smell felt familiar and comforting, and he fell asleep once again.

……….

Jigen shook his head as he saw the Fiat approaching. It was virtually crawling along the road with the constant stopping and starting it seemed to be doing. He chuckled at himself for having given Goemon the car keys earlier. He should've known better. But the sight of the car gave him a bit of much needed joy for such an, overall, frustrating day. He was still impressed. They had never managed to get Goemon to willingly drive, other than in an emergency, and definitely not in the snow. Even Jigen would've been a bit nervous with how much was on the ground now.

He moved over to give Goemon enough space to not run him over, a similar amount of room that he would give to a little granny who could barely see over the steering wheel. As he approached, Goemon rolled down the window. Jigen leaned in to talk to him, seeing into the backseat where there was a large lump of blankets.

“You found him?!”

“Yes. He is not doing well. We need to find a place for him to rest. Though I am not sure he will be very willing with such a plan. Especially if you are there.”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

“Oh perhaps because someone decided to stop thinking through his actions and instead go into a motel guns blazing.”

Jigen looked away as if he thought the notion was ridiculous, but he knew that it was completely accurate. He opened the door and motioned for Goemon to get out. He got into the driver's seat, closed the door, and looked into the backseat once again. He thought he saw a hint of shivering coming from the pile.

Once Goemon got settled into his seat, they drove off in search of shelter.

………..

Zenigata’s phone rang. It was one of his men.

“Sir! The car is gone!”

“Was nobody watching it?” He knew he should've watched over it himself.

“We saw it driving away on the main street. We're unsure where it is now. I have sent several men to look.”

“Good. I'm going to bring my men to help. Make sure to call in team B.”

He called his men over to give them the new instructions, as he did so he began to form his plan of action. He didn't think they would return to their hideout now, not now that Goemon knew that he had tracked them down. They would find somewhere new. Somewhere less traceable. Or in a different town entirely. So which would they choose now? He could split his team again, but it was different if they could be an entire town away. HE needed to be wherever they were. Other officers tended to highly underestimate the criminals. This was going to be a coin toss. He hoped it would be a lucky one.

………..

Jigen and Goemon were arguing in hushed tones. They needed Lupin to stay asleep as long as they could, but they needed to figure out what to do with him sooner than later. And they were not in agreement at all in the matter. Jigen wanted to find a way to contain Lupin so that they wouldn't lose track of him again, at least until they could get him to calm down. Goemon claimed they only needed to treat him with care and he would trust them in a short time. Though neither was entirely certain that they had been correct in their original theory.

Jigen was grasping the steering wheel, feeling as if it would snap in half if he applied any more force to it. They had been driving for over an hour, which hadn't gotten them very far since they were going at a snail's pace from the snow. They were driving through the countryside with large fields and the occasional tree or two. The sun was beginning to show.

Having come to a pause in the argument, Goemon laid back in his seat and closed his eyes. He was finally feeling the weight of the entire night. He heard a few more coughs from Lupin, Jigen reaching back to adjust the blankets, and finally fell asleep.

……….

I love when Goemon drives 😌 I can’t wait to see what’s next