#I didn't write this with one in mind

[sabos-husband]

★ Waiting, Waiting

Trafalgar Law x Reader ★

Dressrosa Spoilers!! ~ Heart Pirate!Reader ~ Gender Neutral ~ Fluff to Angst

From across the Polar Tang's kitchen, you throw your head back and laugh. The sound is riveting, but the sight is intoxicating.

Your hand is posed over your mouth, shoulders shaking with mirth, lips are pulled tight over your smile. A smile so bright he just wants to kiss—

Law walks face first into a cabinet's open door.

For the past two months, you and Law have been... something. You've been a Heart Pirate for years, but he, in a brilliant display of his emotional constipation, only allowed himself to realize the depth of how he felt for you within the past six months.

Somehow, you must've noticed this.

He knows this because exactly two months ago you stomped up to him, cheeks flushed with inebriated confidence, and asked him if he would like to get another drink with you.

(The exact details afterwards don't matter. He can barely remember them anyways, with how drunk he also was.)

All that matters is that you two are something. You offer him a smile every time your paths cross, treat him with enough fondness to make his heart stop, and kiss him after the lights have gone out.

But you and Law are not dating. You're not together.

So, yeah. Now you and him are just... something.

He can hear Bepo freak out while your laughter spikes. Red-faced and flustered, Law's planning to do something—his options range from trying to Room away or killing everyone and then himself—before you're standing in front of him, closing the kitchen cabinet.

"You okay there Captain?" You say with a smile. "I think the door's got you beat here."

Law can feel his face getting red for a completely different reason now. He ducks his head to hide his eyes behind his hat. He opens his mouth to let a retort fall out, but he sees your feet shuffle past him and he closes it again. He'll speak to you another time.

Thank the seas it's only you and Bepo awake. Law collects his morning coffee (and a riceball at Bepo's behest) and retreats to his office. He doesn't catch the way your eyes linger on his back.

If he did, he was ignoring it.

~

"Captain," you call suddenly. You snicker at the way Law jumps. While he just glares at you, he doesn't kick you out, so you let yourself into his office. "You got a minute?"

Law sighs, rubbing his eyes. He pushed himself away from his desk. "Doesn't matter if I say no. What is it?"

You frown with your hands behind your back. "Don't be an asshole. I got you a gift!"

Looking expectant, Law stands up. His wordless reaction makes you step closer. You tilt your head. "It's a secret though."

"It's my gift."

"I haven't given it to you yet!"

Law raises an eyebrow. He holds out his hand, palm up. He can't deny his curiosity is piqued at your pause; hesitation and you don't belong together in his head. He steps forward, closing the distance. You don't meet his eye.

Cautiously, once you've drawn up the courage, you place the gift in his grasp.

It's wrapped, Law muses to no one but himself. The crisp seams and cute bow suggests you had it wrapped when you first got it—the paper's too unfamiliar and the work is too professional for it to have been done in the Tang. He glances up.

Still, you refuse to meet your captain's eye. "Well? Are you gonna open it?"

Law takes a moment to observe you. The shift in your demeanor is a gift itself; seeing the way you care about how he feels? No matter what's under the paper, he'll be satisfied.

That said, he can't deny his curiosity. Slicing the tape with his nail, Law methodically unwraps the gift until the paper falls away to reveal the brightly-colored box. He recognizes it immediately.

It's a Sora action figure. Its paint job is crisp and the joints move smoothly—he knows this because he has two, one in and one out of its box.

(This one is his new favorite.)

You look up at him, nodding your head towards the gift. "Well?" You ask nervously. "You like it?"

You don't seem to know about that Law already has this one. Not that you would know, considering he tries his best to hide his collection almost flawlessly every time his crew (you) has a reason to step inside his room.

Try as he might, he can't hide the smile that makes its home on his face. He turns around, walks towards his desk, and opens the box to extract the figurine. You follow curiously. You trip over your own feet when you see Law pose Sora to sit at the edge of his desk. It's so cute.

Too much. It's all too much. You smile as you leave and he sits and nothing gets done for the rest of the day.

(Law's attention keeps getting drawn to the figure on his desk. When he thinks of it, he thinks of you. He snatches up the figurine and tucks it away in a drawer to his left.)

~

It's snowing outside the island you're about to dock and you've never been more excited. The sub's been stuffy and the crew's been getting antsy—petty squabbles threaten to blow up if they don't get outside sooner or later. It's what pushes Law to observe the winter island, grit his teeth, and declare they're surfacing for a supply run.

You feel like a child on a holiday morning running around the Polar Tank—Penguin and Shachi are bickering playfully as they swap winter jackets. Bepo's checking and double (and triple) checking the sub's course, the poor mink's ramped up on excitement and anxiety. Ikkaku lightly shoves you out of your stupor with a smile. Jean Bart appears behind you, a hand on your shoulder. It always makes you grin when you think of how flawlessly the former captain fit into the crew.

"What's up?" You ask curiously.

That's how the rest of your preparation time gets eaten up—someone can't find their coat or someone needs help checking what's needed.

Bepo declaring the sub's surfacing is what finally frees you. With minutes until breaking surface, you're scrambling to find everything you need.

"I wonder if the captain's gonna come with us," you say idly as you shove a sweater over your head. Shachi and Penguin share a look.

"Captain doesn't usually go on islands with the crew when it's snowing 'round this time of year," Shachi says. You expect him to keep talking, indulging in gossip as he's wont to do, but he turns back to the rest of the crew to immerse himself in the bustle. You look at Penguin, hoping for hints of details.

"Bad memories," Penguin says back. He peels off before you can speak, muttering to Bepo about coming back to the sub early.

You don't ask anything, but inside, you're confused. You've seen Law go into snow storms by himself before. And wasn't he from the North Blue?

You almost begin to wonder if it's the crew that makes him worry with the snow, but then Law's voice cuts through the sub, calling the crew to attention, and your thoughts fade away.

It's when you've got one foot out the sub that you see your captain again.

Law's tortured stare grinds your racing mind to a halt. He can't look at you; his hand, clasped over your wrist, tightens its hold. His eyes are stuck watching the falling, falling snow.

His fingers slide down, slip into your hand, and squeeze. You squeeze back.

Your hands raise—slowly, carefully, like you're something he can't afford to break—together. His lips brush against your knuckles, too light to be a kiss but too present to be anything but.

"Come back safe."

Law drops your hand and turns back. He retreats back into the Tang. The wind had just begun to nip his ears, turning them a pretty pink.

(You can't even think about the snow for the rest of the day. Your hand is so, so warm.)

~

You tossed and turned for weeks before you actually decided to do something about it.

"We have to talk."

Law looks up at you from over the medical documents in his hands. His hat is off to the side, his hair is all mussed, and it breaks your heart. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't put the papers down. "We do?"

"Yeah."

Pursing his lips, your captain gestures to the seats in front of him. You don't hesitate to sit down. You glance at the edge of his desk, frown, then look back at him. It makes him set the papers down.

"What is it?"

"It's... about us, Law." He freezes as you barrel forward. "I can't- I just can't keep doing this."

He can barely piece together a calm facade. "Then what do you want to do?"

"I don't know!" You throw your hands in the air. "I just," you say, rubbing your face, "can't do this."

You think of the night at the bar often. Your memory peters off near the end—near the part you wish desperately you could remember—but you mull over it often. You think yourself in circles, thinking if there was any way you could've changed what you'd done to make it so it didn't end up here.

Law stands up, and you're almost afraid he's gonna bolt, but then he walks over to you. He sits beside you with a stony expression.

You almost laugh. He must've felt it too, because talking with a desk between you both felt more like captain and crewmate, rather than...

Well, rather than whatever you two are. That's the reason you're here anyways, isn't it?

"I don't not like you," you clarify quickly. The stone cracks. You reach forward, gentle hand on his knee, and tilt your head. "I... just don't know if this is what you want."

He stares back. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes you do."

Law looks away, because really, he does. He sits back. He's got his arms folded over his chest like it could protect him any more than looking away from you could. "Then... what about it?"

"What do you mean?"

"If I didn't... want... then I wouldn't be here. Isn't that enough?"

You take your hand back to rub your face. That's the crux of it, isn't it? Is this enough for you?

It isn't.

"It isn't," you say out loud.

When Law looks back at you, there are tears clouding your pretty eyes. In a panic, he reaches out to you. The space between you closes instantly as you meet him halfway, holding him tight.

Seas, this is the problem. You mourn your breaking heart. It's too much—this is too much—and all you crave is more.

The suffocating silence drags on until you pull back, hiding your eyes as you look down. Even as you cling onto Law, it feels like there’s miles between you both.

“So,” you finally say, "what was it?”

“...What?”

Even as you wipe them away, the tears won’t stop. “What about me makes it so easy to ignore? T-To ignore what we have?"

Law winces. “That’s not—”

“—I mean really,” you sniffle, barreling forward, “it can’t be that easy to not want me.. Can it? No- You’ve gotta have- have something else that makes it this easy.”

Law swallows. Clearly his silence is the wrong answer because your face falls. You try to push him back. "Is there?"

"It's not like that," the doctor tries to say, but the words escape him right when he tries to grab them.

Law's a fool.

What would he say? If he's going to take down Doflamingo, and he will, there's a chance he may not live to see you again.

It's what he thinks about every time he sees you.

"What do you want from me?" He asks instead. If you didn't know him so well—if you didn't spend so often poring over each of his words, dissecting them for their meaning—you'd miss his desperation.

Your eyes trail. Law's eyes are skittish, glancing back and forth from you. His cheeks are growing gaunt and he seems to be avoiding everyone these days. Dark ink stands out against his tan skin; the letters on his fingers are impossible to miss.

For a moment, you look past Law. Ever since he told the crew about his plans for Punk Hazard, Law's been different. Colder. Like the stone-tough walls he'd built for himself were strengthened by the weight of the world. Law had been carrying so much now. His back bowed under the weight of the world—your very own Atlas.

No—not yours.

Something gnaws at you, whispering that the shadow over his eyes was something you could never ease.

You reach forward to gently take Law's hand. You didn't realize... but he should've known how you felt. You press a kiss against his knuckles.

Law yanks his hand back like it burned. You don't comment. The tattoos almost swallow the back of his hand, yet the circle in the middle looks like stigmata—like he plans for his own crucifixion. What would it take for Law to lay down his own cross, or to toss it away and rest his eyes? Which would he do it now already?

The air is heavy with words you were too fearful to say. You blink away your tears and suck in a deep breath. You were sure Law heard them anyways, but now... But now—

"All I've wanted," you say, "and all I want now is you. All of you."

It's quiet.

You grit your teeth as he stares at you with wide, searching eyes. Your declaration—your confession—lingers in the air until Law finds what he's looking for in your gaze.

He stands up, puts on his hat, and walks out the room.

Silence fills the vacuum he leaves behind.

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[aliteralsemicolon]

Thinking about how Spencer takes care of you when you're too exhausted to take care of yourself.

He walks into your bedroom to find you on the brink of sleep, carelessly curled up on your end of the bed and his brows raise in slight concern as he scans you. You couldn't even be bothered to change out of your day clothes. He chuckles lightly at the sight, as he makes his way to you.

"Baby?" He gently calls to you, rubbing your calf with his hand as he takes a seat next to your legs. You're unable to respond to the sound of his voice despite hearing it. He tries again, this time kneeling on the floor next to your head.

"Angel?" His fingers lightly brush through your hair as he whispers near your ear.

"Hmm?" You reply hazily.

You wait for him to speak so you can go back to sleep but all that follows is silence. He resumes his motions in your hair and it keeps you aware of his presence. He's waiting for you to gain some more consciousness. You rub your eyes, fluttering them open and Spencer's quick to guide your hand away from your face.

Right. Your makeup.

"What's up?" You mumble, stifling a yawn.

"I know you're tired, and I'm sorry for having to wake you up," he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "but you do know why it's bad for you to fall asleep like this?"

This is a topic the two of you have discussed before. You're usually quite meticulous about removing your makeup before bed, but you're also no stranger to nights when you can't find any energy to do so.

"Mhm. Clogged pores, risk of infections, bacteria spread, discomfort…" You trail off, summarising his extensive research.

Getting you up and off this bed is a losing battle tonight and Spencer graciously accepts defeat, sporting an endeared grin.

"Can I at least help you get comfortable? Would it be alright if I took these off for you?" He tugs at your top and waits for your response. You nod, letting out a barely audible hum.

Spencer moves off the floor and begins to remove your clothing. "You're gonna have to help me just a little bit, Angel. Lift your hips for me."

You blindly follow his commands, wanting to get it over with so that he can relax and you can go back to sleep. He doesn't relax, though. As he rids you of the last of your clothing, he mentally fights himself on letting you sleep with your make-up. There are so many risks involved, but hygiene aside, Spencer knows that if you wake up with your pillow stained– or God forbid…a pimple– you're going to be beyond pissed with yourself.

The sudden dip in the mattress slightly startles you, as a cool feeling drags against your cheek and you whine.

"Shhhh, sorry, it's just me." Spencer coos.

"What're you doing?" You groan, squeezing your eyes shut, still in a sleepy haze.

"Just wiping off your makeup, sweet girl. You're going to thank me tomorrow." His finger hooks under your chin and he soothingly rubs his thumb just under your lips.

"Spence…" You begin whining but you're unable to pronounce anything else coherently.

He can tell you're slightly irritated, but he doesn't mind. He knows that it's the exhaustion talking.

"I know, I know." He sympathises with his continually gentle tone. "I'm almost done. You're being so good for me right now."

Your lips pout, but you don't complain any further, his words calming you. By the time he's finished ridding your face of cosmetic residue, you're knocked out again. Light snores can be heard from you. He chuckles to himself at the sight of you. So peaceful. So adorable. He leans in closer and plants a firm, lingering kiss on your forehead before he disappears to get ready for bed himself.

"Spence?"

He turns around at your groggy voice, still half asleep. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Anytime, my pretty girl."

[rocketbirdie]

fateful encounter

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[zylphiacrowley]

Left Behind

<previous - next>

[luimagines]

... Reader goes Fierce Deity for the boys-

REVERSE IT ON THEM-

Alright, I will!!

Masterlist

Immediate Reader, boys under the cut! ***

It was storm of arrows, raining down from the blackened skies- leaving nothing in their wake of destruction.

You ran, keeping your shield over your head.

You were covered in cuts and bruises. You were tired. Weak. Your group was scattered. Lightning struck across the clouds, illuminating the trees above you.

A pause.

A breath.

Another torrent of arrows that knock the shield from your grasp as you duck to hide yourself in the flora of the forest.

Arrows change to horns.

Their cacophony of sound threaten to blow your ears out if the thunder hadn't done so already.

You were frightened.

Where were the others? Where's Link?

Isn't there usually the sounds of battle at this point in time?

You kept running. Deciding to cut your loses and leave your shield in it's place, you wipe your face of the rain, opening your eyes to see into the dark ahead of you in an effort to look for safety.

Nothing.

You start running again.

There has to be something. There can't just be nothing but trees and rocks but with nothing to actually stop the onslaught of attacks. Another round of the horns, this time followed by thunderous horses.

They're getting closer.

Another lightning strike. Something white catches your attention in the distance. You run to it, thinking that perhaps it can lead you to wherever Link might have gotten off to.

You need his help.

Your heart sinks instead. You recognize the item. Time had told you that it was incredibly powerful and while he never put it on, he never let it out of his sight.

It almost pulses in your hands.

It's incredibly powerful. There's no way Time would have dropped it on purpose. Which means something else happened to him. Just like the other boys.

The horses and the grunts of the monster that ride them get ever closer to where you are. Desperate and curious, you put the mask on.

The world flashes in tandem with the lightning, blinding you temporarily with white light.

hello little one. everything will be alright now.

***

Wind

Wind was hiding in a hole in the ground. It was small but so was he. Something of his size had to have dug it before hang but he wasn't sure he knew what animal could have done it. He heard that foxes sometimes dug in the ground but then again so did some monsters. Whatever did it was no longer here though. They had to have fled earlier with the upcoming monstrosity that was the storm above him.

This storm was new and strange. He wasn't sure what to make of it. Of all the storm he was to face alone in the middle of the Great Sea he had never seen the sky as dark and as bleak as this.

He could barely see what the monsters were coming from.

Separated and concerned (not frightened), he wasn't sure what to do next. Wind got used to having people around to help him and this was way beyond what he was used to doing.

He wanted someone to help him.

The horns in the distance don't exactly inspire confidence and Wind covers his ears to shield himself from the blaring sound of it all.

He's shaking.

The horns sound a second time and they're much nearer than Wind would have thought they would be. His heart rate spikes and he begins to perspire despite being soaking wet from the rain.

A whimper leaves his mouth before he can stop it. It shocks him out of his own mental state.

What was he doing? Hiding in the ground?! He was no coward. He was a hero! He was the one that went out to fight and that wasn't going to change today!

Wind takes a deep breath and climbs out of the hole, struggling to get past the growing mud puddle he was sinking into. He grabs his sword, using it as leverage to get out and pulls with all his might.

Lightning strikes again, and in his panic, his footing slips and he cries out in shock.

The monsters hear him.

He knows it.

They start approaching him when a large cry of agony can be heard from just beyond the hole he was in.

Wind gets to his feet rather quickly given the circumstances and looks around. He a monster explode in the tree line and rushes to the scene.

Then he screams.

A massive blade, one he recognizes, nearly takes his head off. Ducking in time to avoid it, Wind rolls further into the mud and looks up in shock. The monster he had missed dies behind him in a instant.

You stand above him, proud and stoic and not at all the way he remembers you. Your name leaves his lips before he can stop it.

You look down to him and hurriedly pull him to his feet.

The rest is a blur. You're quickly checking him over for injuries and other causes for concern before you snap back into action and slaughter the monsters that had gotten closer in the time this all took place.

Wind tightens his grip on his sword and lets out a battle cry worth praising as he charges into the fight.

Answers will have to wait.

He has to face this head on. No more hiding.

Hyrule

Hyrule called on Thunder and let the magic spew from his fingertips. It angered the sky and heavens but he couldn't care less.

He can hear nothing over the sound he creates and the sound of his own pounding heart. He thinks he can taste blood.

Unsurprising.

He watches at the monsters fall around him, struggling to stand under the weight of the storm and his magic.

These creatures like those he had never seen before. He would have asked where they came from but there's no one around him to answer that question. He's just going to have to deal with the hoard on his own and with nothing but his wits about him.

Somewhere along the line he thinks he gets cut and inwardly curses. The monsters simultaneously pause and all snap their heads towards him.

Perfect. Just what he needed.

He tightens his grip on his sword and casts a large flame to send them all flying backwards thirty feet from him.

He's getting tired.

Hyrule rushes the monsters and cuts them all down while they try in vain to pat the flames off of their bodies.

A blade suddenly imbeds itself into his shoulder blade.

Shouting in pain, Hyrule falls to his knees and turns. He can't take it out and the smell of his blood only riles the monsters up more.

"Come on then!" He growls, conjuring up the last of his magic reserves. "Fight me!"

Thunder rolls off of his fingertips. The monsters spasm again. Many of them explode into a familiar cloud of purple smoke. But many does not mean all. The rest get up again and position their weapons in their hands.

An arcing white light knocks the monsters down to their knees and they explode on contact.

Hyrule pauses, feeling side smacked. Where did that come from?

You jump next to him, swinging your blade again to finish off the remaining monsters before they can recover from the previous attack.

You reek of power and magic. It's enough to make him recoil.

He tries to at least, but the blade in his shoulder makes it difficult to any moving at all.

Trying to come back to his senses take smore work than he thought imaginable at first. He's more tired than he gave himself credit for. Another scream is ripped out of his throat before he can stop it.

You had taken the blade out.

"sorry"

He shudders. You sound... wrong.

Hyrule gasps down his next few breaths, forcing himself to look up and see what you have become. Your hair is white and there's war paint on your face but the corners of his vision is turning dark.

Hyrule outwardly curses this time.

He can't stop it. He can't hold on.

His world goes black.

Legend

This was embarrassing.

Part of him was glad that there was no one else around to see what had happened to him.

It was dark and rainy and storming like the goddess were having a cat fight. And frankly, Legend was having none of it.

It would be a lot easier to state his displeasure if he wasn't stuck upside down... hanging from his ankle... and stuck in a tree.

Lightning streaks across the sky as the sounds of the damned scream throughout the forest around him. He has no idea where the others are and he hasn't been able to make out a single sign of life aside from the very things that want him dead.

He chokes on a bit of his hair that flies into his mouth as the wind picks up. He plucks it out and fights to get control of his tunic so he could properly see where he's stuck so he could get out.

He's not going to like the fall. He's at least twenty feet in the air and there's not exactly a soft padding waiting to cushion is fall once he's set free.

He hears the horns of the monsters to his left and struggles to pull himself up.

Strangely, they ride right under him, not bothering to look up to see his dangling form in the trees.

His hat smacks him in the face and in his reckless attempt to clear it from his face he accidentally knocks it off of his head.

It falls to the forest floor.

"Oh come on!" Legend growls and fights the air for a moment before he deflates.

His ankle hurts more now.

He tries to twist himself up and out to at least try to grab the branch that holding him hostage. What he doesn't see however, is the individual running below him, pausing to pick up his fallen hat in peaked interest.

They look up.

Within seconds, while Legend was distracted and no doubt using all the core strength he had to still not reach the branch, something cuts it and he finds himself falling. He yells in shock but he's caught and settled on the forest floor without much thought.

"safe."

"...Oh sweet merciful heavens." Legend's throat locks up when he sees you in front of him. "....What did you do?"

"we must hurry. the others will be in need of assistance." you pick him up again and begin to run.

Legend can do nothing but hold on for his life. He has half the mind to at least try to look at you and try to figure out what on earth that familiar mask had done to you, but maybe this was all a bad dream.

Maybe if he closes his eyes tight enough, he'll wake up and it'll be sunny and bright and he'd get to groan and be melodramatic about getting up and starting another day of seemingly pointless walking and joking with the people he was quickly considering family.

But that doesn't happen.

And you keep running.

And the nightmare doesn't stop.

And there's no song that'll stop this dream. He's already tried.

Warrior

Somehow he had managed to find himself in the middle of the the thick of it once more.

Part of him wants to blame his hubris. He knew better than to run off again but to do so without the protection and power of the Blade of Evil's Bane? You'd think he'd learn from the first time.

Then again, the others have proven to be of a similar mind frame as he, and yet, they're nowhere to be found.

He curses under his breath, beginning to lose steam. The torrential downpour had caused his scarf to weight him down significantly. The mud underneath his feet causes him to slide. But he wasn't known as the Hero just because he looked pretty and could hold the sword in his hand.

Warrior moves his body to account for the added momentum and strikes as many monsters as he can in one swing before gearing up for the next.

The monsters keep coming. He's never seen these kind before. It's almost like they blend into the shadows and dance amidst the whispers of the forests breath. Something pierces him between the shoulder blades.

A scream rips out of him. The arrow had plunged deep but it wasn't enough to knock him off of his feet.

Warrior curses no longer under his breath, but with a wild air of fury and indignation that it was enough to turn the air blue. An arc of light shatters the figments of the shadows before his very eyes, giving him but a brief moment of respite.

Another wave quickly approaches, but is silenced as quickly as the first. The bodies explode and crumble with little sound, which allows Warrior to take into the account the numerous injuries he's already received.

The arrow in his back is minor. The slash on his leg is beginning to scream at him but he's more concerned of the potential of broken ribs. Not that it's enough to take him out of the fight, but he was beginning to grow tired.

However, Warrior wasn't sure if it was the blood loss of simply the loss of steam. Which would have taken him out first, he presumes.

A familiar power crackles in the air. His vicinity goes eerily still as backup arrives.

Warrior pants aggressively, putting hand back on the hilt of his sword. "You promised me you wouldn't wear that acursed thing again!"

He turns and nearly swallows his tongue.

You stand there, tall and confident. 'you're injured."

"...No..." Warrior whispers. "...Where are the others?"

You stay silent, letting him fill in the blanks.

If anything, you step closer and closer. Warrior can only watch in blatant horror. Many questions sit on the tip of his tongue but none of them come out. Something in the air commands him to be still and be silent, and like any mortal man, he submits the forces above him.

You pull the arrow from his back.

Another scream rips through him before he can even register what happened.

"calm yourself. you will be alright." You gently sooth his hair away from his face. "we must keep going. come. you are injured. follow me." And... well... someone had to come save his sorry hide again. What else is there for him to do but to follow and pray that the others are alright?

Sky

Sky had taken refuge behind a large boulder as the storm raged on around him. He was out of breath and while the sword in his hand was ready, there was hardly anything he could do.

He panted and coughed, nearly keeling over in his attempt to catch his breath.

Thunder exploded from the heavens, showcasing the displeasures of the goddess above that had no doubt thrown him and his brothers in arms into some sort of endless abyss.

The forest didn't seem to have to an end.

And neither did the up coming monsters.

So far, he had managed to get away but there was another pressing issue. He had no idea where his group went.

They hadn't been together long before everything went south.

Did they even arrive together at all? Had they all seperated?

Sky can only remember walking through the portal and the beginning of this absolute tempest. Then the beasts came.

He pokes his head around the rock to check his surroundings. Clear. At least that's what he thinks.

Thunder cracks everything in twain once more and Sky gets enough courage from the briefly provided light to move away from his hiding spot.

He hears a battle cry like none other.

His hairs stick up on the back of his neck and goosebumps erupt all over his flesh. "By Hylia-"

He takes off running.

Sky inhales more water than he intends to, but that's not what has his attention. Coughing fit aside, he nearly drops Fi when he comes close to the scene.

That's nothing short of power.

The fighter spins and takes out countless monsters in a single swipe. Sky nearly ducks, feeing the power behind the blade despite his distance away from it.

Sky rushes closer, giving a testament to his title. The Hero of Courage.

He joins the battle with ease. The Master Sword is and always has been a formidable blade. The hoard stands no chance.

Once given a respite, Sky turns to the new person. Their dietic powers were nothing short of curious- by the three, have mercy.

Sky drops your name as a forbidden whisper and drops Fi in the same breath.

You stand tall but not proud. You're shaken to the core.

"there is still so many of them"

"I know." Sky finds himself whispering. You voice had boomed with all sorts of quiet intentions. Do you even recognize yourself right now?

"there is still so much to do."

Sky picks up Fi again and puts her properly in her sheath. "Then let's keep at it."

Four

Four pushed himself out of the puddle, gasping for breath as he choked on the mud. He was running and has fallen face first into what had to be one of the biggest puddles thus far. He counted hi lucky stars that it wasn't a sink hole, otherwise this would have been a whole other issue for him.

He wipes the muck from his face and forced himself to keep going.

"If it rains for any longer, this forest is going to be a marsh by the end of the day." He all but shouted into the turbulance.

Rolling thunder has answered in reply, almost knocking him off of his feet once more from the force of it alone.

Horns blared in the distance but Four didn't feel the need to stick around much longer to figure out what was causing the commotion. He was fine with just getting cover from the rain and getting out of the way until he could find his friends again.

However, it was dark enough that Four couldn't see that far in front of him. He wasn't even sure what the hour was.

Suddenly, he hears a cacophony of footsteps. Or at least, that's what he thinks. It sounds more like a raging herd.

Coming directly towards him.

Four groans loudly and picks a random direction to run in instead. He doesn't have the time nor the energy to pick a fight. Not in these conditions. He knows better than to try and hold them off.

That will have to be a battle for future him to decide (preferably when he is dry and full and not about to keel over from how tired he is of searching with no results to show for it).

He slips again.

"OH come on!"

"blacksmith."

Four feels himself be picked up from the back of his shirt and placed on his feet once more. He looks up and his jaw drops. "...What did you do?"

"i've been looking for everyone."

So has he, but he hasn't seen even the barest hint of anyone. Four gulps, attempting to wring out his hood with little success. It's a comfort gesture at this point. "Find anyone?"

"i found you"

Four presses his lips together in a thin line. That doesn't answer his question, but it tells him everything he needed to know. With a slight hiss, he brushes off the mud from his tunic rather haphazardly. "Well... it could mean that they're no where near this storm... Or those monsters."

You nod and stand up taller. Four hadn't even registered that you were nearly squatting just to talk to him. How much had that mask affected you?

"i've been fighting the monsters. there are many."

Four gulps. "No time like the present then, huh?"

You nod again and pick him up. Four is two seconds from telling you to back off before you start to move. His breath gets stuck in his throat as the trees begin to blur around him.

He holds on to you like a life line, suddenly understand why you put him on your shoulder instead of letting him walk by your side.

He's nervous to see what else is in store.

Time

Time was struggling to get out of the metal armor that weighed him down. He was running through the forest, sword strapped to his hip for a change as the storm raged around him.

He heard the horns, knew that he was losing precious time. Anxiety riddled his body as he tried to think of a solution. He hasn't heard anything from the boys in a while.

He's worried about them.

But he's of no use to anyone if he's caught by lightning while in this armor.

It fights him every step of the way.

He hears the sounds of battle occurring off in the distance and curses under his breath. How more useless can he get?

He eventually gets his armor off. He's sweaty and over heated by the end of it but the rain does a good job at cooling him off. It'll be a pain to fix his armor if he leaves it here later but he has no other choice.

Suddenly a wide arc of light sweeps through the area, illuminating the forest for a split. The cries of the slaughtered monsters follow suit quickly- choking on their own fluids as they cease to exist within seconds.

Time feels his stomach drop to his feet. He recognizes that power.

"No..." He gets up and runs, taking up the sword that would be the easiest to handle as he races through the mud. "No, no, no..."

Another beam of light silences the remaining monsters.

Time stops dead in his tracks. He sees you from behind. Tall- imposing. Your hair grew longer- changing the colors to match that of the god who's power you currently wield.

You turn to him and relax.

Time didn't think the deity could ever look so relived, even if the mask is borrowing your face.

You must have been terrified. The Fierce Deity must have been extra gentle with you to allow your emotions to show on the otherwise stoic nature of the mask.

Time shakes his head clear of the shock and run to you, wiping his free hand over his face to clear it of the water. "You're ok."

You kneel, getting to his level and gently, very gently run your hand over his hair. "where are the others?"

Time can only shake his head.

You continue to look distraught at the lack of answers his provides. "then we go find them."

Twilight

Wolfie was faring non to better with the storm.. He shook his pelt again, desperate to release the constantly growing water weight.

Feeling lighter once more, he takes off in a run, disheartened from the lack of scents he was picking up. He could most certainly smell the rain and the fauna that naturally called these forests home but not a lick of those he was looking for.

He can hear the rolling gallops of approaching horses so he gathers that the enemy is gaining speed. Twilight can only hope that no one is caught in the cross hairs.

Deciding that the wolf was currently of no help to anyone, he shifts back and quickly takes out his bow. Epona is no where to be found but Twilight trusts in his girl's instincts. She'll be safe.

His current idea, however, would be easier to do if he had her at his disposal. Otherwise this might as well be a suicide mission.

Twilight takes to running once more, this time, towards the sound of running horses. Once he thinks he gain enough distance, he climbs up the nearest tree, no thinking of the currently lighting or the storm.

He takes out his eagle mask and positions his weapon.

He sees them.

He takes the shot.

Again.

And again.

The monsters shout in agony, exploding from their injuries once they hit the forest floor. The galloping horses trample their remains with ease.

Twilight aims to take as many of them out as he can while trying his best to not be spotted.

Suddenly, a fighter collides into the massive hoard of monsters. Startling the horses, the monsters were flung off and trample even further. In the flurry of movements, Twilight struggles to see what's happening.

The numbers against them scatter quickly.

Eager to help and to get to know this mysterious being, Twilight climbs down and charges towards the fight, taking down the remaining ones that had been missed by the horses' hooves.

"rancher."

His whole body freezes.

That was a voice of power, yet one that he knew all too well.

You're there, wear the mask of the Fierce Deity no doubt. Twilight drops his sword in shock. You walk towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder as you look him over.

His mouth goes dry as his heart races in his rib cage. "...I couldn't find anyone."

You hum, but it's more profound. Not manly, just... powerful in a way his mortal brain struggles to comprehend. "i've been looking. there have been many monsters."

"I believe you." Twilight reaches to squeeze you hand, wanting to you that you're real. That this is real.

"come." You say, opening your palm to him. "we will find the others."

Twilight nods, putting his bow away at last. "I'm with you. Lead the way."

Wild

This was bad.

"It was my pleasure."

But at least now it hurt less.

Wild pushed himself out of the way before horse hooves can come down on his head. Somewhere in the distance he can hear fighting. There's someone who's out there alone in the storm and holding their own. Which is more than he could currently say.

He groans and holds a hand over a wound that has since healed.

His sword hasn't broken yet but he can tell that it doesn't have much life left in it to give.

Wild slashes the beasts anyway.

His sword breaks right after.

Choking on a curse, he rolls out of the way again and takes off running.

They gain up to him quickly. There was no contest.

A pissed off horse comes to his rescue, body slamming her frame in to the approaching threats. They scatter and give them both a bit of breathing room before making a come back.

Wild takes the opening as it is and gets on Epona's back. "Come on girl. We have to go. We have to get to the others."

While he is not her rider, Epona takes to the task at hands and runs to lead them both to safer ground.

The monsters give chase once more but Wild wasn't going to let them have their way with them so easily. Trusting Epona to steer herself, Wild takes out his bow and begins to fire at will.

A large blur of white and teal, rushes by their side, startling Epona and getting her to hitch up legs in self-defense. It's unnecessary but the action nearly throws Wild off of her back.

The blur all but bulldozes its opponents down and sends their remains scattering like bombs that had no chance of having their fuses snuffed out.

Wild focuses on calming Epona down before he ends up underneath a third set of hooves this day. His attention is split between the horse and the fighter who's taken on the hoard like (for a lack of better words) a champion.

The simile is a bitter pill in his mind.

Epona stays put after she calms down and the monsters have been dealt with. Cautiously, he urges her towards the figure as it catches its breath.

Wild's hitches.

Without thinking of the ramifications, Wild throws himself off of Epona and takes of running, you name on the tip of his tongue before he screams.

You had heard his footsteps coming toward you but didn't register that it was him.

Your blade ends up by his throat.

"champion... you are weakened..."

Wild falls backwards. The water from the rain loosened his footwork but at least your blade is no longer at his neck.

"are you in need of potions?"

Wild shudder and shakes his head. What happened to you?

You nod and pick him up without question. You whistle a familiar tune at the same time and Epona comes closer even though she is also untrusting of this new development.

"to safety then." You begin to walk away.

"Wait-!" Wild struggles in your hold. "What are you doing? Let me go!"

"be still hero. it will all be over soon."

[nenoname]

stan twins the canon cptsd brothers i will always think about all your unaddressed issues that would make perfect plot fuel for your spinoff

and also the whole 'stan getting that poem by bill via a website which contrasts with bill getting one from the axolotl via a website' foreshadowing thing

like idk i would love something like su future but like more optimistic, aka not an accumulated breakdown that has to be mostly resolved off screen at the end :/// but something thats being kinda addressed throughout? (although would love to see one of them turn into a monster thats always fun lol)

stan having severe issues from his dad and those years of being homeless that we keep on getting more info on but never really getting confronted on (the drifter catalogue and tijuana incident...), him being completely alone for like twenty years when running the shack before soos comes along to the point that 1998 is noted as his low point, and him not really learning about bill+what he did to ford until ages after he killed him if he ever did get the full context

while i think amnesia and everyone seeing him as a hero actually helped with stan's 'i'm a worse version of my brother' thing its still a lingering issue too and we now got him being insecure over his own hands

ford being immediately thrown from 'being tortured by bill' to 'being stuck in the multiverse and being chased by bounty hunters constantly', him fully expecting himself to die when destroying bill, and him only now being safe for the first time in 30 years ....relatively safe, he's still in constant danger because of course he is

idk in the end the series wants them to be happy and they deserve it, its why i wasn't too worried about the book being like 'ooh bill is back!! and the book is haunting ford' thing cos i knew they'll be ok

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

I'm kind of obsessed with Blackwall's idealized ideas about the Wardens. He was once picked up by a Warden and lulled by the promise of atoning for his crimes and turning his life around, only for that opportunity to slip away when the Warden not only saved him, but sacrificed his own life to do it. This whole experience makes our Blackwall become a Warden in heart, if not in blood, but with his own ideas of what a Grey Warden should be - noble, brave, inspiring, heroic, self-sacrificial. Everything he now wants to embody. He knows well that he's not there, but he wants nothing more than to start from scratch and be that.

In his beliefs, he reminds me a bit of Wynne in Origins who tells the Warden at some point that the Grey Wardens are supposed to be more than killing machines and weapons against the blight.

“There’s more to being a Grey Warden than killing darkspawn and saving the world from the Blight. Ultimately, being a Grey Warden is about serving others, about serving all people, whether elves or dwarves or men. As a Grey Warden, you are a guardian of men. And you guard them because their continued existence is more important than you are.”

However, we know that's not exactly how it works. That's what they want the Wardens to be. The light against darkness. The shield against monsters.

Although it's not entirely wrong, either, I suppose, all things considered. The more darkspawn they obliterate and push back, the more people are protected from them. Of course, sacrificing their lives to fight literal monsters, which means those same monsters don't eat everybody's kids, ultimately is heroic, and it's something that must have been born out of the need to protect the world and its inhabitants (from the Blight). But to have idealized opinions of the Wardens to this degree, you have to ignore all the other shady stuff and the mentality we, as players, also know the Wardens for. The fact that the Wardens are primarily weapons to slay darkspawn, prevent and end Blights, by any means necessary. The last part is important. After all, they are the Grey Wardens, not the White Wardens. They recruit from all walks of life and are famous for taking in criminals. Not to redeem themselves and get a second chance at life, but because they usually have nowhere to go and nothing left to lose. It's not a coincidence that each of the Origins gets chosen by Duncan, not only because he sees them as capable, but also because they are in a situation they can't escape from. Either they join the Wardens, or they're done for.

We know the Wardens from a few games now, but does the public in the setting even know? Does the average person have any idea how far the Wardens are willing to go? Besides grand stories of slaying monsters in the dark and preventing the end of the world? Probably not. The order is very secretive. And it explains a lot. The Wardens end up sounding almost romantic, when being a Warden is anything but. Is it ignorance talking out of these characters? Perhaps.

It once again shows us this aspect of Dragon Age where you can't take everything a character says as a fact, because the setting is full of people who have no idea what they're talking about, but who are absolutely convinced that they do.

And yet, I can't help but also like Wynne's and Blackwall's romantic ideas about what the Wardens are or should be, almost knights in shining armour and all that. They're fairy tales, but they're beautiful fairy tales. And I can't fault the characters for wanting to believe it or even live it. Especially in case of Blackwall, who sees it as a way to make up for the crimes he committed, somewhat. In the end, this might actually be a bigger draw to join the Wardens than, "Got nowhere to go? Come suffer horribly and probably die gruesomely with us!" It all sounds great on paper, though. I can't fault Davrin for trying to find purpose in life by becoming a monster hunter, either.

And maybe a little bit of idealism doesn't hurt. Not only it's good motivation, but in the end, doing things by "any means necessary" doesn't always pay off, either. It led the Wardens into all kinds of trouble, like getting tricked into employing dangerous forms of blood magic and demon summoning, basically into doing their enemy's work for them. In their determination to win at any cost, they helped trigger a cataclysmic event. Maybe having some principles isn't so bad after all.

In the end, I can appreciate that we get to see the clash of the old and new blood in Veilguard, where there's hope for the order to transform into an organization that's less secretive, less exclusive, and hopefully less prone to letting corruption spread through its ranks and make other devastating mistakes. Duncan once said that letting people join the Wardens isn't an "act of charity", and I like how Evka and Antoine go, "Yeah, you know what? Fuck that." And that likely inspires more loyalty. I imagine Blackwall would like that.

[purplecelestial-buddy]

There's many little details in Harusono's works that tend to take space in my mind (like the background gag of the boys piling up bottles) but one of them is this picture:

There's cake, there's a ton of people and there's someone being thrown???

Idk I just think that they Kagiuras are probably great pary guests.

Full panel for more context:

[aquanutart]

She is offering water to any lost travelers! However, it's so hot that the water has become tea, so she's adjusted accordingly!

[iggyshippingcorner]

okay so the sickfic has spiraled wildly out of control. it's at 2k words right now and i think the final is going to be around 5k... (sigh)

in the meantime! 1k words of Stone cooking that I wrote after baking dessert for an event last weekend. features: domestic stobotnik, some named badniks, and food as love language. mostly canon compliant, takes place sometime in the crab era :3

working at the hardened mass of brown sugar with slightly damp palms. the cheesecake is in the oven, cyan watching it with rapt focus through the glass. he’s refilling the baking supplies in the crab’s kitchen while he waits for the timer to go off. the brown sugar solidified into a brick of molasses while it waited on the counter, and while there are quicker ways to soften the sugar, he’s always preferred this method. small crystals cling to the grooves of his fingers and palms as he kneads at the brick, humming quietly to the music oni plays from her vantage point. a large clump breaks off from the brick, and he rolls it between his palms until it begins to crumple, and he deposits his fresh handful in the waiting jar. 

he dusts his sugar-coated hands off over the sink. a quick rinse to make sure he isn’t leaving crumbs across the whole kitchen. the terracotta disc gets a quick rinse as well, the old clumps of brown sugar clinging to it sloughing off under the spray. he towels it dry, revealing the familiar sparrow with its forked tail and sparse plumage. it goes in the jar, pressed down into the sugar to tamp it flat. with its labelled lid screwed back on, it returns to its designated spot in the cabinet beyond the marzocco. after the brown sugar comes the flour, a hefty glass jar with a bail lid that came from his own apartment. nearly empty. he scrapes out the last two cups and sets them aside, rolling up his sleeves as he wrangles the new bag of flour. 

alpha’s bzzt-brrp! from his perch above the fridge heralds the doctor’s arrival. stone doesn’t turn around so much as he drifts to a more interruptible task and then allows the doctor to step comfortably into his personal space, arms winding around his middle. his chin digs into stone’s clavicle. they don’t speak, not yet, just stand swaying slightly as he sets the kettle to boil and begins perusing their steadily growing tea collection. as much as the doctor despises switching things up, he’s been surprisingly accepting of stone introducing some diversity to his caffeine intake.

there’s clementines in the bowl by the marzocco, and the doctor reaches past stone to snag one. he rewards the snack choice with a silent shift, his elbow squeezing robotnik’s forearm to his ribs more securely. there’s the gentlest rumble of a laugh against his shoulder-blades. he tips his head to one side, curious, but the doctor doesn’t offer any explanation. just leans in and bumps his cheek against stone’s ear, moustache tickling his jaw and lips. 

“back to the grind,” he says, a touch too loud for how close he is. stone squeezes him again just because he can, and then lets him disentangle himself. “ETA?”

stone flicks the oven light on, and they both crouch in front of the glass once cyan shuttles away with a dejected zzzrr. the cheesecake bubbles quietly. stone checks the egg timer. “another hour. hungry?”

“biding my time,” robotnik hums, and waves the orange at him. “curry tonight?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” stone replies, like he wouldn’t carve the moon from the sky with his bare hands if the doctor asked him to. “what were you thinking?” 

“surprise me,” the doctor says, all magnanimous, which stone knows to mean reasonably spicy, and containing either lamb or pork. he graciously allows stone to steal the clementine from his hands, watching impassively as he quickly, efficiently peels it over the sink, and returns the exposed heart of it to his waiting hand. he pops one of the slices into his mouth and when the flesh splits between his teeth, stone has to take a slow, measured inhale. robotnik eyes him, but he just smiles, easy, agreeable. “I’ll send cyan to you when dinner’s ready.”

“sounds good,” the doctor nods, and leans in for an entirely unprompted kiss on the cheek that leaves stone blushing in the artificial sunlight of the crab’s kitchen windows. he shuffles out of the kitchen, peeled clementine in hand. stone watches him leave. cyan beeps eagerly from her post in front of the oven, and it breaks his reverie. 

“alright, alright. let me get in there,” he laughs, grabbing the oven mitts. 

the cheesecake comes out perfect. he has to swat multiple badniks and one robotnik away from it while it cools, and wrestles it into the fridge to chill properly despite more than a few protests (“this is a perfect time to test the liquid nitrogen chamber!”). 

dinner is a quiet affair crammed side by side at the island, legs tangled beneath the counter. the doctor steals more than a few pieces of lamb off his plate, and begrudgingly eats a few extra pieces of bell pepper in exchange. when they finally cut into the cheesecake, stone drinks in the sight of his doctor’s first bite-- the way his eyebrows raise a little, the way he assesses and catalogues consistency, texture, flavour. how his nose scrunches a little and he grins toothily down at his plate in appreciation. 

“excellent again, stone,” he says. such direct and genuine praise calls for a little preening, even if it causes robotnik to smack his arm and nearly send his own slice of cheesecake flying. the doctor snickers as he rights himself on his stool again, and accepts the retaliatory forehead kiss.

they drink tea on the couch afterwards, watching some telenovela while pretending (badly) to not notice the way they gravitate closer and closer, until robotnik’s head is in stone’s lap and both mugs are on the coffee table. stone is trained better than to fall asleep while the doctor provides running commentary on the anarrative arcs at play in the episode, but he would be a liar if he claimed his eyes never drifted shut listening to the familiar cadence of his doctor’s voice filling the warm space between them. his tangents ebb and lull like the waves overhead, their quiet domesticity concealed within the crab, far from the prying eyes of the world.

[ai-the-broccoli]

enemies to lovers / but you'll never own my heart

@luzon-dove happy birthday, Quinn!! As a present, I decided to draw a piece fanart of your "blood in the walls of the yagami house" AU fic series, since I found it very well-written and full of super interesting ideas and concepts. I hope you like it!

[bumblingbabooshka]

Stonn writes a letter to T'Pring [Patreon | Commissions]

Dear T'Pring, Forgive me contacting you from the green. This is your friend _, now Stonn. I have thought of you often ever since being forced to move away but knew your parents would not allow our continued association. I have grown no richer since we last met. I have gained no greater renown than any man who lives a quiet life of service might. But I remember you enjoying my dull company and hope you might indulge me by partaking in it again.

There is a house I rent in _ which I will enclose the coordinates to if you will meet me. If you won't, please tell me quickly and I will never write again if you write the words yourself. After so long, even your rejection would be desirable if personalized. From your old friend, Stonn

[ivorysodapop]

Lefties

[nekrosmos]

As promised, there it is ! 17k words lighthearted NikPrice fic <3 These two have been circling around each other for twenty years and are finally doing something about it.

Summary: Things have been different between John Price and Nikolai as of late. The two men have always been close, but something changed. Now, Price is forced to go on medical leave after a disaster of a mission. Nikolai offers a fishing trip, something he knows his favorite captain enjoys, a nice way to relax, and maybe let their relationship evolve.