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credince--writes · 2 years ago

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Jitters (Remastered) Chapter 2: Knuckles

Chapter Two: Knuckles

Chapter 1

Jitters is a PMC brought onto the support 141 operations, much to the distaste of the 141 group of PMC's.

The Remastered version of the original Jitters.

A/N:

Oop, the second chapter is out now! etehehe, let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

GIF by whumpetywhump

She let out a breath that she didn't really recognize that she was holding.

She could find herself with a breath caught in her lungs more often than not, following a trail of thought leaning too close to a computer screen and spacing out. Only to lean back and let out the breath trapped and as quietly as she could gasp for air.

The team was home safe, but they were 'home' for real this time, the mission was a success. Intel had been secured, and everyone made it out in one piece with very minor injuries. She’d hide back in her corner of the office, fidgeting with something she’d found and stashed away. Collecting trinkets coming a fun game, collecting one thing from each base she found herself at and clinging to it.

The team was back at home base, she supposed that she should correct herself on that. There was no real home in these situations. Just waiting for the next call to be sent out somewhere- the new place to desperately root as fast as possible, gather your bearings, and make sure the mission went right. But it’s all that mattered, really.

Getting back in one piece.

Without much thanks to Miles.

It was time for a debrief of the mission, and afterward, the team would be released to something akin to a kindergartners recess.

Free time.

The room would always be tense, even if everything ended right there was bound to be some kind of fuck up to pick apart and asses once everyone had been herded into the room and sat down. It just usually wasn’t this tense, Jitters had experienced her fair share of tense meetings. The hard eyes of COs cover their good intentions, weight carried heavily atop their shoulders as they try, emphasis on try, to prevent mistakes from happening again.

Mistakes kill people, after all.

But it was tense, more so than usual with the added men in the room. All too hot but too cold smashed into a room with everyone at once, the not-so-subtle burning glare of Mactavish and the icy cold stare of Ghost sweeping the room it felt like every other moment. Gulch heading the table next to the Captain and prepared the debrief as she scuttled into the room and took a seat as far as she could get from Miles.

She’d laugh if she didn’t feel like the bile rising in her throat from stress was going to make her yack onto her shoes. The room was split down the middle, back into the original teams. Miles puffed his chest up and leaned over to murmur something to Mactavish while Ghost sat rigid- as if he was still ready to lash out and strike at an enemy lurking in the shadows. She’d sat at the end of the table, left shoulder to Gaz who glanced over and gave her a nod as she sat. A mild comfort knowing that maybe one person in the room- other than Gulch- was on her side. Either sitting next to her at the table or hopefully willing to not throw her under the bus as the issues from the mission unfolded onto the table.

"Can someone elaborate on what the fuck happened with triggering the security protocol?" Gulch questions eyes flickering from one side of the table to the other, narrowing on Jitters and Miles. She could feel the tension in her shoulders- the constriction of muscle as her throat tightened trying to find the correct way to explain that once again, this hadn’t been her fault. Stepping into action to solve the problem rather than sitting back and watching it happen.

"I'm sorry L.T. You know I'm not comfortable working around distractions, additional liabilities." Miles spoke, his voice smooth as he leaned forward with the audacity to nod his head over to Jitters as if she had been the issue in the mission. Her eyes narrowed on him, as if the venom from her glare pooled at the corner of her eyes and welled up only to stream down her cheeks in hot tears.

Gulch stared at miles, the all-familiar deadpan finding its way to his face as his eyes bored into the two of them. It was always like this, ever since she had been working with Miles. Something would go wrong, and he would throw out the fact she was new- a distraction or a liability because she was a PMC. That she didn’t know what she was doing and that more than anything was why something went wrong, not his own incompetencies.

Maybe he was right though, she didn’t belong here. And to a degree, she didn’t know what she was doing. Her fingers dug into her palms as she tried- and most likely failed- to not glare daggers at him across the table while pushing her fingernails into the skin of her palm. Angry red crescents bloomed when she unclenched her hand from the pinch of pain.

Did he really just do that? This.

This...

This bastard.

Her jaw tightened and she ever so slightly tilted her head over to look at him, the feeling of her teeth pressing against each other in her jaw providing some kind of familiar comfort. The clench of her jaw grounded her in a way- helping her keep her mouth shut and preventing an argument that would lead to her crawling over the table and wringing his neck. She saw as she shot her a side glace, noticing the amusement dancing in his eyes as he leaned back in his chair smugly.

She was never a fighter. And he knew that.

Smug prick.

Gulch eyed them up and down, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t. It was silence as he stared them down as if waiting for one of them to crack and start rambling, before letting out a soft sigh. "I'll be expecting an incident report."

After a few more closing statements, the meeting had ended and people began to quickly filter out of the room.

"Jitters." She heard Price call her name.

She felt her heart plummet at the sound of her name being called, stopping in her tracks and staring forward, as if her body refused to turn around and face Price.

Almost as if he was a school child, Miles pushed past her and mumbled a subtle "oooo, Someone's in trouble."

"Yes, Captain?" She looks back and asks, shifting her body to walk back over to him. The tension in her throat to keep her voice even, to not allow it to waver as she ran through the many scenarios of how this could go wrong, how he could be mad. Why would they take her word for it? She’d never even clarified what actually happened and it wasn’t like they would know- they were out in the field while she shoved Miles out of his chair and took charge of the situation.

Like a pit of dread opening up in her gut, regretting even standing up and making the moves she did to stop the protocol from activating.

She should’ve just sat back and kept her mouth shut.

"Good work today. Enjoy your night." He smiles and then gives her a nod.

She blinked a few times as if what he had said had been hallucinated. She hadn’t been expecting anything close to praise, expecting some kind of chastizing or another Captain threatening to call Laswell if she didn’t shape up. Constantly danging the connection over their head and watching her jump, laughing the whole time. Her mind reeling in confusion, she forces herself to give the Captain a nod before leaving the room, trying to ignore the swelling sense of pride rising in her gut.

...

The warehouse was full, and people celebrating the victory achieved today. Commonplace after a successful mission, a celebration everyone would jump on to even with no involvement. Any excuse to gather around, drinks in hand, and have fun. It would go like this long into the night usually, trading off as people came back from patrols and woke up, leaving their shifts and entering the revolving door of celebration taking place in the warehouse. She navigated her way through the people, trying to find Gaz in the crowds of people. While Price had dropped it off- Gaz never returned the buzzer (which she quickly renamed from the vibrator, after spending a sleepless night wallowing in the fact she let the title slip). Seeing him sitting on a crate, she set her target on him, and soon enough she was behind him. She didn't seem to catch his attention when she came up behind him, awkwardly shifting trying to wait a moment more to see if he’d turn around and acknowledge her.

"Ahem." She cleared her throat- trying to speed the process along. She never stayed for these functions. She didn’t need to be here.

She wasn’t one of them.

She didn’t belong with them, and quite simply-

She wasn’t wanted here.

Gaz sat with some men from around the base engaging in mild conversation. Light laughs, grimaces, and smiles were exchanged as they all leisurely sipped from their bottles. Soap leaned up against a wall across from him taking a generous swig from the bottle he held in his hand. Turning to look at her, giving a little surprised flicker on his face. "Oh, Jitters, what's up?"

"I uh, I need the thing." She says, slightly unsure of herself and her presence in front of the group, who were now staring at her in silence.

"Thing?" Gaz echoed, his eyebrow arching in confusion.

"Yea." She lifted her arm, tapping her wrist twice. “You know, the thing.”

"You should come up with a better name for it, dontcha' think?" He mused, a friendly smirk gracing his features as he leaned back and crossed his arms. It was teasing.

It was friendly.

It was kind.

It was unfamiliar.

She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, her eyes immediately falling to the floor, and memorizing the texture of the cement beneath her feet. "Yea. I know. Don't remind me."

Gaz laughs, a light exhale, reaching out and patting her shoulder in dismissal. "I already gave it back, Miles got it from me a bit ago. Sorry, I forgot to bring it back to the armory." He apologizes, Giving a slight shrug at her request. Soon after, one of the men in the group pulls out his phone to change the topic of conversation showing some kind of sports clips before Gaz turns his attention back to it, closing Jitters out of the group and ending the conversation.

Jitters eye twitched.

It didn't belong in the fucking armory.

It was hers.

Miles had no reason- no authority to be picking up her shit.

"Alright, sorry about that. Thanks." She responded, trying to keep her voice level. Much to her own protest, it came out as a stiff remark, obviously hiding tension in her throat as she left them in search of Miles. Her hands clenched at her sides once more, the familiar feeling of the crescents being dug into her palm, jaw clenching as she scanned the room looking for the man in question.

Over here?

No.

Over there?

No…

Oh wait, he's over there.

He was sitting with a few others- natives to the base essentially. Heavy machinery specialists and a Sargeant, all mingling and exchanging friendly conversation. She approaches the group, unclenching her hands and jaw and rolling her shoulder back to stand tall. She can’t falter- it is what he’s always waiting on, expecting. A stutter and he’s invading the conversation and stuffing his words down her throat before she can retort. Any awkwardness in her posture and he would pick it all apart until she retreated from the conversation and fled to the barracks to hide in the dark silence of the women's quarters.

She squared her body up before reaching a handout, tapping on his shoulder to catch his attention. He turns, a smirk present on his face and quickly morphing into a sneer as his eyes land on her. "Miles." Trying to keep her voice firm and calm as she speaks to him. Professional, firm, not bitchy- but persistent. "Give it back." A few of the others in the group give him a confused look, and he straightens up his posture before responding.

He shoots her a confused glance. "What are you going on about now?" The mock innocence in his voice dripped with confidence as her jaw clenches once more, ear popping in the process.

"Dude, just give it back." She sighs, her foot beginning to tap against the cement floor as she brought her arms up around her chest to cross her arms. Irritation is more than obvious in her tone as she shifts back and shoots him an annoyed glance.

"I don't have whatever you're going after, stop being such a bitch." He bites back, puffing up his chest and sneering at her before turning back around and starting back up a conversation with one of the mechanics spectating the ordeal.

Her gaze morphs into a mixture of disbelief and rage. The overwhelming urge to spite in silence as she unclenches her hand she hadn’t even realized curled in on itself throughout the conversation. Lifting her arm and taps a button on her wrist. Two seconds drift by before a 'ping..... ping..... Ping.....' starts to emanate from his pocket.

Miles' eyes flicker down to his pocket, back over to her before he crosses his arms defensively and shifts his stance intentionally making himself taller as he leans forward.

Making akes a satisfied noise, she reaches out her hand expecting him to give up and just set it in her hand. Admit defeat after being obviously proved wrong- she just made it sound off in his pocket and he still had the audacity to act as if she was in the wrong.

But he doesn't.

"Are you calling me a liar?" Miles spits. "Don't forget I'm technically your superior. Now go on and fuck off."

There it was.

That stupid ‘authority’ he would always throw around even when he was dead wrong.

But he was always like this, this childish, infuriating, liability of a man.

She'd be sitting at her desk, typing away on some paperwork, or a file, or something decently important when Miles would stroll by and shut her laptop. The slap of the computer shut automatically deleted all of the files due to the programs installed clearing all caches so that if anything were to happen a tab accidentally left open wouldn’t blow an operation and leave an opening for malicious endeavors.

Every time she would find her shit upturned, the duffel back that held her life upturned and all of its contents spread across the shitty little bed

The time her sleeping bag was full of garbage.

The constant shifting of blame.

"I'm sorry L.T. You know I'm not comfortable working around distractions, additional liabilities."

All of the incidents where she kept her mouth shut, she just kept dealing with it. Was it because she was fine with it, too afraid to speak out against him in fear of what could happen if they called back and sent her home?

It was mainly because she was scared.

Scared of what would happen if Laswell decided she was too much of a pain in the ass to deal with.

Not worth the hassle.

"Are you gonna leave, or are you gonna stand there and keep looking at me like a moron?" Miles sneers, knowing just like in every other situation she would fold. She would give up- turn tail and run away just like she had done every other time. Letting him win, keep the cocky smirk on his face, and just try to keep her head low and avoid any further confrontation.

But she was sick of it.

Laswell be damned.

He was a fucking bully, and as small as it was- it compounded. The crushing weight of each instance swelling up in her chest gave her a sudden surge of anger- confidence within it to stand up against him at least once more time and get what she deserved.

The little device at a minimum, but in hopes of earning his respect.

Proving she belonged here just as much as he did, and that she wouldn’t be walked all over anymore.

"Give it back." She says again, her voice slightly cracking this time.

"Or what? You'll go cry to Gulch?" He mocks, the familiar tone of him curling his words up in mock concern. Leaning forward and pushing into her space in an attempt to get her to take a step back.

Her teeth clench against each other, and she can feel the pressure on her cheeks- catching part of the flesh of the inside right up to the point she knows she’d make herself bleed. "I'm not the one who goes bitching and crying whenever their feelings get hurt Inch." She emphasized that word and made sure it really stuck him in the side.

She could be just as mean.

She would be, if it meant proving this point.

Inch wasn't something he had been called in a while, she hadn’t ever heard him be referred to it except for once. A task force had come in with Miles after being somewhere decently exotic for a few weeks. How cocky he had been when he was selected to be sent out with them rather than her because it just further proved how much better he was than her. Apparently, on his trip, he had acquired a fairly exotic disease to his nether regions, the close quarters the task force had been in with him. A futile attempt of hiding his discomfort and at some point or another someone seeing his diseased dick ended with him being jokingly referring to him as 'Inch'. The name stuck, and it took quite a while for him to live it down, she imagined it was still a decently fresh wound.

That it would hurt when someone said it.

Which was perfect, seeing the open wound it was on his flesh- scabbed over and trying to heal.

And she just ripped the scab off.

She’d said it loud enough for others to hear, suddenly having eyes back on him and laughing at the recently forgotten nickname. Refreshing it in everyone’s mind and for those who didn’t know the story about it- having it quickly explained with a rushed story and vivid details.

Miles was silent.

And for the first time in a very long time, Jitters could confidently say she felt smug.

Before she could really register what happened she was sliding back on her ass onto the cold cement, everything starting to get fuzzy as she looked up and saw Miles above her screaming. The feeling of fresh scrapes on her arms from the rough floor and the daze of the sudden movement as he charged forward at her.

Suddenly cheering was all around her, the loud sound of it mixing into her disorientation as she scrambled up onto her feet trying to find some way out but quickly being caged into a circle of bodies all cheering. Big grins and bared teeth exclaiming for a pit

"Uppies are out!"

"We gonna have a pit?"

"Pit!"

"Money's on Inch!"

It was like being caged in, an animal trying to desperately escape a cage and avoid the loud noise of drunken cheering and the too many eyes on her. Expectant stares to see a fight, and a good one at that. The techies- the computer nerds duking it out in a pit for other entertainment. Finding and opening and slinking back, trying to avoid the confrontation and get out, fighting against the hands grabbing for her and pulling her back in. Miles takes post in the center of the forming circle raising his arms and acting as if he were a reining champion defending his title.

They’ve been winding down their conversation, shot from the mission and ready to crash and sleep until the morning that felt like it came always too soon. Until the room erupted in cheering, bodies swarming towards the center of the room all calling out for a pit to form. Gaz shot Soap a glance, both meeting with an equal look of confusion on their faces. The men sitting with them joined in, standing up and starting to move their way toward the center of the room. "The hell is a pit?" Soap asks, leaning over and half yelling to one of the men they were chatting with.

A man leaned down with a big grin plastered onto his face as he pulled out his wallet and threw some bills at his friend who was standing up and calling out a bet.

"Gulch left the base to go drinking with the Captain brought in for the task force- if anyone gets into a fight while we are celebrating we get a Pit. It's like gambling- kinda- but more fun." The man is all but radiating in excitement.

Another man nodded his head, waving bills around and calling in his bet. “Looks like the techs are gonna duke it out finally.”

The man next to Gaz chimes in. "We make a big circle and they beat the shit outta' each other until someone yields or the L.T. gets back. More or less.”

Gaz gave a cautionary shrug to Soap, who stood up with him and moved over to the center where the circle was forming. If you were rooting for one side, you'd stand on the right, another, on the left. A solider had already taken it upon themselves to begin collecting bets, cash in both of his hands while he called out.

Her head was reeling as if the room itself was spinning as she continued to try and claw her way out of the pit, constantly being thrown back in if she were able to breach the wall of people. amount of noise- hands grabbing her by the backs of her arms and dragging her into the forming circle in the center of the warehouse. She was desperate, trying to leave, get out of the center, and get away.

She couldn’t get into a fight.

Miles would win regardless.

It was a perfect plan.

She had only ever been around for one Pit, and it was a fistfight ending in blood splattered on the cement floor.

Bloodied knuckles.

She felt like a dog getting let loose into a dog fight- but she didn't want to fight. Miles started this.

She couldn’t fight.

"I don't wanna fight." Jitters tries to yell, voice straining in her throat as she throws her hands up in some kind of mock white flag. One more futile attempt of leaving the pit, breaching the wall of people but two arms hooking beneath her own- lifting her and tossing her back into the center. Stumbling backward, fell to the ground, and extended her arm to catch herself and pop back up as fast as she could before spinning around to Face Miles who was standing in the center with a smile plastered on his face. Pivoting around the circle trying to call out to Miles once more to stop this, that she didn’t want to fight and that she won’t fight. Circling each other waiting for the first person to lash out and make the first strike. As soon as she gains her footing, hands push her from behind sending her stumbling forward into Miles who is ready, arm pulled back and punching her in the gut.

A harsh exhale pushes out of her lungs as she hunches forward into the punch, arm gripping around his arm exclaiming one more poor attempt to stop- not follow through with this.

He knows what would happen if she got into a fight.

He knows to some extent why she is here.

He knows the rules.

He knows she can’t fight back.

He takes a step back and her knees crumble from underneath her, her body collapsing onto the ground as her knees scrape against the concrete below her. Her hand clutches her gut, gasping in breaths as if her lungs couldn’t fill with air- that the oxygen she was wheezing in and out wasn’t real and she was choking on nothing.

She tilts her head back and looks up, watching Miles take a few steps back before fishing something out of his pocket- the familiar sneering grin plastered on his face as he pulled out the buzzer. Lifting it up in front of his face and inspecting it between two fingers as if he was actually interested in the device before tossing it down onto the ground in front of her.

“You wanted it so bad.” He says, laughing as he tosses it. “Pick it up then.”

The metal and plastic cover clatter against the ground, the sound of the metal tinking on one side then the hollow clatter of plastic against cement.

The sound isolates from the cheering and yelling in the room, attention completely zeroed in on the little device. Jitters eyes fixate on it, stares down at it, reaching her arm out and grasping it in her hand before looking up and watching everything around her move in slow motion. Miles's foot stepping out, the weight of his body shifting as his torso twists and his arm extends, aiming directly for her face.

When he hits her in the face, it feels almost like when she was a kid, in a pillow fight. The connection of his fist against her head is a solid, dull thump that makes her see white for a moment. Her body was thrown to the side with the weight behind the hit, her head was completely tossed to the side.

She’s back at some sleepover with girls she didn’t know all too well, the connection of a pillow against her face sending her flat into the floor. Her cheek landed on the carpet, dragging against it and leaving a light carpet burn before she plants her hands in front of her and stands back up. She gripped the corner of the pillow before she screeches out in glee before lunging forward and getting back into the fight. Her head cocks back up at him, staring wide at him like a deer in headlights. A light ringing in her ears as she leans forward onto her knees and stares.

She can’t fight back.

She can take this.

She won’t go back.

But that isn't fun to watch. It's just watching their slightly overweight tech beat on a little girl. Her kneeling in front of him and taking it.

"Fight that fucker!" someone yells in the crowd.

And just like that, she's sucked back into her own head.

"Fight that fucker! " She's little- she's in the schoolyard. She's kneeling in the grass looking up at her bully as he gets ready to land another hit on her. Her jeans are damp from kneeling in the dirt the morning dew soaking in through her pants and leaving dark circles on her knees. Her mom would probably get mad at her about this later. Something how grass stains were always so hard to get out of clothing- but grass wasn’t the worst.

Blood was.

Kids surrounded her circling, yelling similar things.

To fight.

To entertain.

To perform.

But that's what Miles is, isn't it?

He's just a big bully.

Jitters blinks, and she's back in the present. The lights are too bright in the warehouse, and the feeling of her fingernails scraping against a divot in the cement rattles through the bones of her fingers and up her arm. It smells like sweat, beer, and gasoline. Everything moves in slow motion as she comes more attuned to her surroundings. The dull throb in her head, the ringing in her ears, and the scream of her guts as she plants her foot forward and starts to stand. He's shifting his weight forward, pushing forward to attack again. Her body weight pushed off of her toes and she springs forward, catching one of Miles' legs and sending him toppling to the ground.

She shouldn’t be doing this.

She couldn’t do this.

She’s going to get in trouble.

But just as she begins she starts to rethink her actions, she’s back in the schoolyard.

She had turned and ran, only to be tackled to the ground a few feet from where she’d started. Wood chips dug into the skin of her palms, her shirt riding up and stabbing into her back as she squirmed against her assailant’s blows.

When their first connected with the side of her head, she felt her vision turn white- ears ring.

As if her head were a bell that’d just been rung- a grandmother on the porch calling children in for supper.

Her head snapped to the side, the woodchips mussing into her hair. The cheering and yelling merged together into some kind of deafening silence.

And she was hit again.

But it didn’t hurt anymore.

Her hand pushed forward, palm smacking against their nose with a sickening ‘crack’ sound. Blood immediately poured from their nostrils and back down onto her. They stumbled backward, and as they fell back she crawled forward, springing on top of him and digging the whites of her nails into their skin, forcing their body onto the ground and raising her own fist.

The connection of her fist against the bone of his chin felt like a dull throb against her hand- undoubtedly punching the wrong way.

But how was she supposed to know?

She never wanted to fight in the first place.

But it felt good.

The sticky warmth of blood against her hands in the cold morning air.

She wouldn’t get off of this kid until the teachers pried her off of their body.

Miles shifts his weight and rolls on top of her, pinning her down by her shoulder and lopping another punch down onto her face. It still doesn't feel like the sharp pain she assumed it would be like.

It's dull.

Like a thump.

The pillow hit her head.

The connection throws her head sideways.

She lays on the floor of the sleepover giggling, pushing herself back up to stand and get back into the ruthless pillow fight broken out into the living room of her middle school friend’s living room.

And she was hit again.

But it didn’t hurt anymore.

She never had any proper training on how to fight, she was never supposed to be in combat.

Shit, she wasn't even supposed to be here.

But if fighting in the schoolyard taught her anything, it was how to fight dirty.

And she could fight dirty well.

"You're constantly in my way, and you get brought on here for no fucking reason." Miles hisses.

She pushed her hand up quickly, the meat of her palm nailing him in the nose. Just as quickly as his body began to pull back her other hand grabbed hold on his ear and pulled as hard as she could, throwing both of their bodies to the left. Miles let out a strangled cry and began to roll to the side, Jitters moving with him and quickly pulling herself up to place on top. Lifting her hand up as if it was instinct- bringing her hand up, closing the fist, and bringing it down onto his face.

Her hand let out a cry of protest, but the demand was quickly filed away somewhere in the back of her head.

She hit him, again.

"Are you calling me a liar?" Miles spits. "Don't forget I'm technically your superior. Now go on and fuck off."

And again.

"Come on- you can't take a hit?" Jitters hisses out.

And again.

"You fuckin' pussy." She sneers, teeth bared, and raises her arm again. The muscles in her shoulder burn.

"I'm sorry L.T. You know I'm not comfortable working around distractions, additional liabilities."

And Again.

"I'm here because you fuck."

"Or what? You'll go cry to Gulch?" He mocks, the familiar tone of him curling his words up in mock concern.

And Again.

"Everything."

"Don't. Ever." He pushed her shoulder against the wall and leaned up to her, "Pull what shit again in a meeting again." She could feel the heat of his breath on her skin, the venom that dripped out of his words, and the anger that flashed in his eyes when he spoke. She almost wanted to laugh- him making a fool of himself in the briefing and acting big and strong and smart. Only for it to blow back up in his face.

And Again.

"Up."

She’s in the schoolyard again, a teacher pinning her face down against the wood chips as she kicks and screams, legs flailing as if she were the one in the wrong. They pry their body off of the ground- wailing and crying clutching their nose while they sob about how they didn’t really want this to happen-

That she had taken it too far.

His head was lax against the floor. Pushing off of his chest she stepped backward, slightly stumbling. His breath was ragged, his eyebrow spit, nose bleeding, lips bleeding as blood trickles down the side of his face. Miles rose, and looked up at her, spreading his arm out behind him trying to grasp some sort of leverage.

She loomed.

Staring down at him with his and her blood smeared across her face, backing up and standing casually as if she’d never been in the fight, to begin with before speaking- as if to tell him I’m not scared of you anymore.

You’re weak.

"Come on then!' She yelled, voice rough and cracking. Raising her arms and motioning for him to fully sit up, to get back into the fight he wanted so badly & started. The sounds of the cheering meshing together, morphing into some kind of mutilated white noise. "Fight me! Act like a fucking man!"

She takes a rough step forward, pointing at him and yelling once more. "Get up pussy!"

He got onto his knees, and just as soon as he got up she stepped forward, swinging her leg over and connecting her foot to the side of his ribs. Miles let out a wheeze before turning and trying to stand again, grimace present on his face as she lobbed her fist across his face again.

He dropped.

Hard.

And he didn’t move.

"Get up!" She yelled again.

Maybe it was to spite her, or the blood pounding in her ears didn't hear the sound of the door opening, Gulch, and Price stepping into the scene before them.

Jitters standing over a hunched-over Miles, a circle of now silent soldiers surrounding them. The echoing sound of the door closing behind them as the white noise filling her ears ceased, and all she could hear was her heaving breathing and the juicy, sputtering breaths of Miles below her.

A soldier stuffing bills of cash into his jacket, the sound of crinkling paper a dead giveaway to what he’d been doing- trying to not look as blatantly obvious as he was now.

Gulch could bring a room's temperature down ten degrees, it would seem. As soon as the hot breaths of the soldier's yelling ceased, the room fell into an uncomfortable, cold, silence.

"Clean this mess up." Gulch says calmly.

Too calmly.

The kind of calm that leaves prickles on the skin.

That makes hair raise on the backs of necks.

Jitters it heaving, trying to get as much oxygen into her lungs as possible, trying to make up for the difference, never seeming like it was enough as her eyes frantically scattered around the room.

"Don't get off of them until you're fuckin' pulled off."

That's what her dad used to say.

And if she was gonna listen to one thing,

it would've been that.

Lunging forward again, she gripped him by the shirt and swing her hand down.

Again.

And Again-

Until she felt a hand grip her upper arm and pull her backward, securing an arm around her torso and pulling her back.

It was Gaz.

"Hey. Calm down." He spoke calmly into her ear. "You're gonna have to calm down."

Gaz held her against his chest as she fought back, squirming against him until she had calmed down. He set her down, holding her shoulder with both of his large hands, and said something- not registering with her ears as she glanced around the room to dispersing soldiers and the sounds of discarded beer bottles clattering against the cold cement floor.

Almost as soon as she stopped swinging her arms she could feel the passage of her nose tighten up- her chest start to tighten and the feeling of hot tears rip their path across her face.

Setting her down, she shot Gaz a defeated glance and then met the gaze of Gulch. A cold hardened stare. One that said:

'my office.'

'Now.'

Her shoulders sunk, Miles scampering up and being dragged off somewhere, wheezing, groaning, and cursing. She made her way into Gulches' office, and to her surprise- Price followed. Sitting down in the chair directly in front of his desk as he handed her a tissue to at least pinch her nose closed before she bled more over his room.

Great, now she was going to get chewed out by two men.

Great, she’d done exactly what Miles wanted.

She was going to get sent back- they were going to call her-

Once the two men settled, all that could be heard in the room were the sniffles and chokes radiating off of Jitters.

"Stop crying." Gulch said.

"C-Can't." She choked out, trying to calm her breathing. The feeling of her sobs against her bleeding nose made it hurt even more- not helping to calm her down in the least.

"Figure it out. I'm not talking to you until you can be an adult." He replied, leaning back in his chair and staring her down.

And he did wait. Five grueling, silent minutes of Jitters pulling herself together.

Five minutes of death spiraling in her head about what was going to happen.

Wincing from the pinch of her fingers against her nose and the tremor in her hands.

Wiping the tears from her face and wincing at the pain.

"Ok.." She mumbled. "I'm ok." Her voice was hoarse, her breath still a little shaky but she sat back and rolled her shoulder backward to sit up straight. Not ready at all- but still knowing what was coming next.

Gulch nodded.

"That was unacceptable."

She nodded.

"Irresponsible."

"Disappointing."

Ouch, that one hurt.

"But I can't say I blame you." His voice softened slightly.

Her shoulders shrunk forward...

"You're gonna tell Laswell."

Something in Gulch's eyes softened.

Pity.

Hidden behind a hardened layer, it was clear as day.

"Yes." He stated.

"And I'm gonna get sent back." She choked out.

"Yes." He agreed, Gulch’s stare tainted with the haze of pity. It didn’t fit him, and it made her stomach churn at the look of it on his face.

"Unless." Price says, breaking his silence. His face was unreadable. She couldn't see past his wall, wasn't familiar enough.

It was like a thick fogged layer of glass.

But it was dark inside, and she couldn't even make out the shapes or colors.

"Unless." Gulch agrees, nodding his head and gripping a manila folder on the side of the desk, sliding it across the top and in front of him.

Her eyes look up, a strand of hope dangled in front of her, looking back and forth from Price to Gulch.

Price leans forward, arm resting against the desk- eyes boring into her before blinking. Breaking the heavy eye contact and speaking. "You tell me exactly how you ended up here, and you promise you'll keep my teams back like you did for us last time."

She stared at him in a dumbfounded awe.

"And I'll watch you back." Price concluded.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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whumblr · 4 years ago

Text

Wednesday

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1 - Continued from Part 28

Tagging: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @hurtmebeautifully @rougenoirofthepurpleterror @snuffhimout @susiequaz12 @mnmlover2002 @undertheburrow @whump-me-all-night-long @whumpinggoodtime @starnight-whump @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @im-just-here-for-the-whump @restrainthenmaime @freefallingup13 @whatwasmyprevioususername @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @firewheeesky

A wave of annoyance hit Jay when he came home to Zayne waiting in his chair.

Wednesday was one of the few days of respite he got. He had training in the evening and after Zayne had intimidated him to get home on time after work, Jay had bargained a fixed day off so he could continue going without raising eyebrows.

It worked well. Except today, clearly. Though maybe he should’ve bargained for Tuesday evenings off. It could be quite hard, not to mention fucking ironic, to push through self-defence courses while the injuries from yesterday’s beating prevented him from standing up straight.

"Are you going senile? It's Wednesday." Jay pretended not to notice the dangerous atmosphere, Zayne leering at him from his chair, as he avoided eye contact and went to the bedroom to grab his bag.

"Thought maybe you were still sick in bed and in need of some distraction,” Zayne said, swivelling the chair sideways.

"So you were planning on bullying on the sick," Jay called from the bedroom, "nice." He rushed from one end of the room to the next, fishing a t-shirt and shorts from his closet, grabbing his sneakers and stuffing them all in his bag in a hurry. If he could just make a quick exit, he could grab a bite to eat somewhere and kill some time outside. Not here.

Zayne’s gaze followed him as he rushed through his flat, eyes on the bag. “Means you’re well enough for some physical activity?”

Was he ever? “Not the kind you have in mind.”

“Just a little warm-up exercise to get you ready for your class.”

"No need.” Jay finally turned to him, frustrated. “Do you know how much it sucks when someone grabs your arm sparring, right on a day old bruise and-- oh what the hell, of course you do," he muttered as Zayne's grin only grew wider and his eyes lit up with every irritated word Jay spoke.

"No, really, do tell," Zayne got up and followed Jay to the hallway before he could slink off and out the door.

"Like this?" He clamped a hand over Jay's shoulder, right where he knew a large bruise was still healing.

Jay hissed at the sudden pain and twisted free.

Zayne took the moment to slither around him and stood in front of the door. Jay’s only escape.

“Get out the way,” Jay grunted. “I have to go.”

“No, you don’t. Still got an hour.”

Zayne casually stretched out an arm, leaning against the doorframe with his forearm like a bolt resting over the top corner of the door. He didn’t fully block the exit and his stance was open, like he actually stood to the side to let Jay pass.

But when Jay tried to scurry out and pull the door open, he looked up in annoyance – somewhat incredulous even - as it stopped against Zayne’s arm.

Come on, it’s a human arm, not some wooden bolt, why can’t I just…! He tried again hoping Zayne would pull back, which of course he didn’t.

Still leaning his full weight against the door, Zayne bent over Jay.

“You’ve had almost a week to heal, in more ways than one,” he cooed down on him, arm still not budging an inch. “Figured I should ease you into our routine again.”

Jay’s eyes widened and his breath caught for a bit. “It’s Wednes—“ he tried again, looked up to meet Zayne’s mischievous eyes.

“I know what day it is.”

“We had a deal.”

“Well, we don’t have to go all the way. Just a warm-up. Remind you what you’re taking those lessons for. How are those going, by the way?”

“Fine.”

“Fight me off, then.”

With Zayne reaching up like that, his torso was unprotected. He was practically inviting – daring – Jay to make a move. Yet Jay resisted the urge to plant an elbow into his stomach and run. All it would do was make sure that Zayne would be waiting for him later that evening to show him what a bad idea that had been, leaving him with a boatload of extra adrenaline and stress during his training hour, only to come home absolutely drained and too exhausted to defend himself.

He scoffed at that. Defend himself? Yeah, right.

Zayne, noticing his hesitation, tsked softly between his teeth. “What use are those lessons if you’re too scared to use ‘em? Stay here. I’ll help you get over that fear.”

“You want to teach me how to kick you out of my own house?”

“Instruct you in the ways of violence, sure, maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.”

“I think I’ve had enough lessons in violence.”

“Tell you what. You can go to your little fight club tonight,” Zayne started and Jay already narrowed his eyes, waiting for the ‘but’.

“And I’ll be waiting for you when you return and we’ll pick up where we left.”

“Yeah, no.”

“Or…”

Jay didn’t like the sound of that. He quickly let go of the door handle, but Zayne’s hand snapped around his wrist in a bruising grip, pulling him back. Caught off-balance, Jay fought to stay upright before he keeled right into Zayne’s chest. The hand over the door lowered and settled against the frame next to Jay’s head as Zayne encroached on his personal space and sidled closer.

“Get on your knees and beg.”

“You have got to be kidding,” Jay growled in return, but the fingers around his wrist only tightened in warning.

“Am I?”

Jay pulled against the grip and to his surprise, Zayne let go. He flexed his fingers to get rid of the numb feeling, the blood now rushing back to his fingertips. Zayne however, pushed himself off the doorway. He tilted himself up to full height and pressed his torso forward as he stepped towards Jay, pushing him away.

Jay instantly fell a step back, only to be followed by Zayne who loomed over him.

The intimidation worked wonders. Jay stumbled back in fear. He dropped his bag, ready to compromise to avoid the looming punishment.

“Okay, fine! But I’m not begging to leave my own flat! We had a d—“

But as he lowered to the floor, hand raised in surrender yet still sputtering his complaints, the sudden force of a boot to the chest caught him off guard. He fell back over the doorstep to the living room. Heard heavy thumping footsteps get closer and before he could scuttle away on his elbows, a groan was forced from him as Zayne stomped on his chest and pinned him to the ground.

The leather toe of Zayne’s heavy motor cycle boot nudged against his chin. Jay glanced up, eyes wide, and caught Zayne’s grin before the man let his weight fall down.

Jay grunted, his ribcage protesting against the sudden force.

His back arched against the wooden floor and he let his head fall back as he grit his teeth against the pain. Big mistake. Zayne took full advantage and slipped his boot down over Jay’s now exposed throat.

Carefully and very slowly, he shifted his weight again and Jay let out a cut off soft gasp as the pressure on his windpipe increased until he couldn’t breathe.

Hands roamed up, clawed into fists and pounded uselessly against Zayne’s ankles and shinbone that were protected by more rigid, sturdy leather. Jay kicked and struggled, his own shoes squeaking against the wooden floor.

He reached up, feeling for the edges of Zayne’s boot, fingers clawing into the fabric of the black jeans. While it seemed he was just scrambling desperately at Zayne’s leg, he had a plan. He found the weak spot, just behind the knee, and his fingers squeezed hard.

“Whoa!” Zayne yelped and pulled back in alarm when he felt the soft pinch break through his jeans before Jay could fully twist his fingers into the tendon. “That is nasty, Jay! What the hell, did your training actually teach you something useful?”

Jay didn’t answer. He scrambled up and pressed himself up against the side of the couch. He sat on his hunches, one arm over the armrest the other hand massaging his throat, panting and wheezing trying to catch his breath with his eyes still warily on Zayne.

Zayne let out a scoff as he saw him like that, a cat backed into a corner, but started to laugh. He rubbed the back of his leg. “I still feel that. Well, okay. Go learn some more tricks, I guess.”

He stepped aside, clearing the way out. “The extra adrenaline might give you a bit of an edge, tonight.”

Continued here

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anubislover · 5 years ago

Text

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya chapter 15: When Animals Attack

Oh my God, Nami thought as the snow leopard in front of her snarled menacingly. It was a beautiful animal, for sure, with thick, luxurious grey fur, bold black spots, and aurous gold eyes, but she’d be much more inclined to appreciate these features from afar. As it was, she sat frozen stiff only a few yards away from where it crouched, sharp teeth and claws bared, its low growl sending a shiver of fear down her spine.

Beside her, Bepo murmured, “Stay calm, Nami—snow leopards aren’t known to attack people. They’re honestly pretty non-confrontational. If we just back away slowly…”

The big cat growled and jerked forward slightly, making Bepo wince in spite of his assurances. However, the snow leopard didn’t pounce, instead meeting the Mink’s eyes and jerking its head over its shoulder.

Furry eyebrows furrowed as Bepo cautiously peered around the animal, only to rise in shock as he exclaimed, “His back leg’s caught in a snare! No wonder he’s so unhappy!” Rushing forward, he immediately began inspecting the trap. “The knot’s pulled too tight to untie like this. We’ll need to cut you loose.”

Nami stared, mouth agape as the leopard shuffled back a bit, revealing that there was indeed some kind of rope snare caught around its back left ankle, preventing it from moving more than a few feet. It looked like it had been trying to claw and chew its way through the heavy cord, but to no avail. In the light of the fading sun, she could even make out a few spots of blood against the silver fur where the rope must have chaffed and cut into the skin underneath. Nami would argue that, though unfortunate for the trapped animal, that was good news as it gave them a better opportunity to get away. To her surprise, however, the large feline seemed to calm down significantly at Bepo’s assessment, and she wondered if the Mink could talk to animals the way Chopper could.

Her question was answered as the leopard made a few chuffing meows and Bepo replied, “The rest of the crew’s searching for the others on the opposite side of the island. Crozier and Cousteau’s team never came back.”

The casual way Bepo spoke made Nami’s pounding heart subside slightly, though confusion was quickly replacing fear. What was a snow leopard even doing on a summer island? Who had set this trap? Why was it near Law’s ripped swimsuit? For the moment, she settled for asking, “Is this a friend of yours?”

To her surprise, before Bepo could respond the leopard slapped its paw over his mouth and gave a warning growl.

Pushing the massive paw aside, the Mink furrowed his brow in bemusement. “I know it’s embarrassing, but would you rather she keeps thinking you’re a wild animal?”

“Bepo, what are you talking about?” she asked, crossing her arms. She was sitting across from a potentially dangerous beast—being left out of the loop was not something she appreciated.

“This leopard—”

A loud hiss was let out between the feline’s fangs, cutting Bepo off. With a sigh the Mink amended, “He’s…well, he’s not a normal snow leopard, ok? We should free him.”

Though far from comfortable with that plan, Nami had the feeling that, friend or not, Bepo wouldn’t stand for leaving the poor animal there. “Fine, but how? My Clima-Tact’s not exactly designed for cutting, and I don’t think your claws will do much good. We need something with an edge.”

He glanced around, eyes lighting up when he caught sight of a sharp rock a few feet away on the beach. “This should do!” he called, jogging up to it. His happiness was short-lived, however, as there was the familiar sound of something crashing through the underbrush, and Bepo barely had time to brace himself before the wild boar from earlier charged out of the jungle.

I thought Jean Bart tossed that thing into next Tuesday?! Nami screamed internally as she scuttled back against one of the trees. The green-eyed pig must have lucked out with a soft landing, then tracked them down to seek revenge.

The Mink’s natural combat instincts allowed him to avoid getting a sharp tusk buried in his stomach. Instead, he managed to grab the beast by the snout and use its momentum to fling it onto its side, sending it skidding across the wet sand.

Acting fast before the boar could regain its footing, Bepo grabbed the sharp rock and tossed it to Nami. “Here! Cut him free while I handle this!”

“Are you crazy?!” she yelled, even as she caught the stone. The edge felt sharp enough to work as a makeshift knife, though she had no doubt it would take some time to work through the thick rope. That didn’t mean she was eager to start; friend of Bepo’s or not, she was naturally very leery of getting close to an apex predator without a protective Mink ready to step in.

Unfortunately, he had much more pressing matters to deal with at the boar climbed to its feet, kicking at the sand as it prepared to charge again. Bepo got into a kung-fu stance, staring down his opponent before he leapt forward, delivering a series of lightning-fast kicks to its side to drive it back away from the trapped leopard and trembling woman. “Nami, please, just do it before this pig’s friends show up!”

Nami glanced nervously at the snarling snow leopard who was jerking towards the fight, fruitlessly trying to yank itself out of the snare so it could join the fray. Every ounce of common sense screamed at her to keep the hell away from such an agitated beast, but then it turned to look at her, and its gold eyes could only be described as pleading.

Pleading and unnaturally intelligent and oddly familiar.

Bepo’s right; it’s not a normal snow leopard, she thought as she cautiously crawled over to its left leg, letting out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding when it stood still and didn’t so much as hiss at her. “Nice kitty. Good kitty. Promise you won’t bite me?” she whimpered as she placed the edge of the rock against one of the more worn parts of the rope.

To her surprise, it nodded solemnly before turning its attention back to the fight between the Mink and the boar, its shoulders tense as it forced itself to remain still while Nami sawed away at the coiled fibers. She could hear Bepo shouting “Why are you attacking us? Who are you?” and angry squeals in response from the boar.

“He’ll be ok,” she assured, though she felt she was saying it as much to herself as the ensnared leopard. “Bepo may look like a giant teddy bear, but he’s a strong fighter. He wouldn’t be a member of the Heart Pirates if he were a pushover. Heck, he can probably take care of that mean old boar all by himself!”

In response, the leopard let out what could only be described as an annoyed huff, but when she glanced up briefly Nami did note that its posture appeared slightly less anxious. It helped that she caught sight of Bepo grabbing the boar by the tusks again to fling it into a nearby palm tree, though she winced when the vibrations shook the trunk so hard a coconut came loose, the hard-shelled fruit landing squarely on the Mink’s head, dazing him while the boar recovered its breath.

Nami was about halfway through the rope by this point, but her confidence at freeing the snow leopard vanished as she heard a horrible shriek from above her. Looking up, she screamed as a massive, long-maned baboon glared down at her, its fleshy top lip flipping back over its nose to display fangs as large as the leopard’s. Without warning it dove from the tree branches, pouncing on top of the frightened navigator and knocking her backwards away from the snarling big cat who could do nothing but helplessly lash out with its claws, trying to catch either of them before they were out of its reach.

“Nami!” Bepo groaned, stumbling forward to aid his friend. Unfortunately, he was waylaid by a ram charging out of the jungle, its spiraled horns and thick skull bashing into the polar bear’s chest with an audible thunk.

She would have cried out in concern had she not been so distracted by the baboon’s vicious attempts to murder her. It wasn’t a large animal, maybe two feet tall, but it was forty pounds of pure aggression. Its grip on her thin wrists prevented her from reaching for her Clima-Tact or even using the stone in her hand as a weapon, and she was barely able to move her head in time to avoid getting her face bitten off.

Frustrated at her struggling, it released one of her arms to slap her hard across the face. The blow dazed Nami for a moment, and the baboon seemed to laugh, the shrieking sound like nails across a chalkboard. Its attention was briefly taken by the snarls of the leopard behind them. Glancing over its shoulder, the baboon chittered mockingly, again showing off its horrible fangs.

The distraction was enough time for Nami to recover her senses, though. Lacking options, she punched the baboon in the side of the face with her free hand, her fist making a satisfying smack against its cheek. Taking advantage of its stunned state, she managed to land a kick against the fleshy, heart-shaped bald patch on its chest, sending it stumbling backwards directly into the leopard’s clutches. The big cat didn’t waste any time as it sank its claws into the baboon’s back, dragging it closer so it could bury its teeth into its neck. Blood sprayed everywhere as the ape’s throat was ripped out with a harsh jerk.

Catching her breath, Nami searched for Bepo only to find him outnumbered two-to-one on the beach. The boar had managed to regain its footing while the ram continued to bash its skull into the Mink’s stomach, and it was only due to the boar’s injuries than he managed to dodge their combined attempt to batter him from both sides.

“I take it back—Bepo needs help!” she cried, pulling out her Clima-Tact and using the batons to send out a gust of wind towards the ram. However, she’d underestimated the power—the blast was more like a hurricane gale, encompassing both animals and Bepo and knocking them nearly a dozen feet into the ocean.

Ikkaku wasn’t kidding about the power boost, she thought, a sweatdrop cascading down the back of her head. We’ll have to modify that so I can aim better.

There was a muffled growl from beside her, and Nami turned to see the leopard glaring at her as its jaws continued to crush the twitching baboon’s throat. Their eyes met, and it jerked its head pointedly towards the frayed snare, its meaning clear; cut me free already!

This time, Nami didn’t even hesitate—with Bepo outnumbered and her weapon’s accuracy compromised, they needed to end this before more animals showed up. As fast as she could, she sawed through the tough rope, heart pounding as she heard frantic splashing while Bepo cried out. She dared not turn around for fear of losing focus, though, settling for mentally praying to every god she could think of that he was alright. Hell, she’d even pray to that bastard Enel if it could help her friend.

Luckily, the gods help those who help themselves, and at last the rope had frayed enough that, with a mighty lunge, the leopard was able to snap its tether and leap into the fray. Nami had to admit she was impressed with the jump—it practically soared forty feet to land squarely on the ram’s back, its claws and teeth sinking into fur and flesh and holding on tightly as it tried to buck the predator off. Meanwhile, with one less opponent, Bepo was able to turn his focus back onto the boar, nailing it with a flurry of kung-fu kicks and slashing its sides with his own long claws. At long last the boar collapsed under the strain of its own injuries, though its green eyes were full of hate even as the life faded from them.

His enemy vanquished, Bepo spun around, ready to help the snow leopard, only to find the ram had succumbed to the same fate as the baboon, its trachea ruthlessly but efficiently crushed.

When it was sure the ram was completely dead, the snow leopard released its neck, flexing its jaw and using the back of one wide, furry paw to wipe the blood away from its lips. Turning to face its ally, it nodded and let out a low chuffing noise.

“Thanks. You too,” Bepo panted, exhausted but clearly relieved as he collapsed onto the sand with a heavy thump.

The snow leopard gave two more chuffs and prowled towards the Mink, its expression stern and determined.

Fearing the worst, Nami stumbled to her feet and ran towards them, brandishing her staff. Her weapon might not have been as accurate as she liked, but she was perfectly willing to use its raw power to send the leopard flying to keep her friend from getting his throat ripped out. “Get away from him!” she shouted as threateningly as she could. The effect was ruined slightly by her knees knocking together, but to her relief, the large cat did stop in its tracks. Intelligent eyes peered at her, and the tip of its long tail twitched as it glanced between the frightened woman and the Mink.

“Nami, it’s ok!” Bepo assured her, sitting up with a groan. “He’s just worried about my injuries. He’s going to give me a quick examination.”

“Excuse me?” she stammered, mouth hanging open in befuddlement.

To her immense surprise, the snow leopard proceeded to do just that; it prodded Bepo’s ribs and skull with its paws, checked his pupils, and even pressed an ear to his chest to listen to his breathing.

“I don’t think anything’s broken,” the polar bear assured as he returned the favor by removing the remains of the snare from its foot. “My ribs are probably bruised, but aside from that I’m just a bit sore. All this fur and blubber’s good for something, I guess.”

The leopard meowed curtly, and Bepo hung his head. “Sorry.”

The whole thing was such a ridiculous, comical sight Nami could almost imagine the leopard in a doctor’s coat, conferring with Law over its prognosis. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised; her own doctor was a blue-nosed reindeer, after all. Perhaps it had eaten some kind of Devil Fruit like Chopper had? That might explain what Bepo had meant by it not being an ordinary leopard.

That didn’t explain anything about the other animals they’d encountered, though. “Ok, I’m no expert, but am I the only one who finds it odd that we were just attacked by a baboon, a wild boar, and a ram? None of these animals are native to the jungle. On top of that, they were clearly working together! What the hell is going on?”

Bepo glanced towards the leopard, who sighed and gave him a nod. “Um, well, it seems there’s a Devil Fruit user on the island.”

“You mean one that can control the animals?” That would make sense. It was possible the animals themselves had been cargo aboard the ship and had gotten loose when it crashed upon the reef. And while she wouldn’t have expected them to last very long on an island so different from their natural habitat, if there was a human who could control them, their chances of survival was much higher, especially if they could be convinced to work together to fend of predators like the snow leopard.

Her theory was disproven when Bepo shook his head. “No; according to Law, it’s more like he can turn people into animals.”

Brown eyes widened and then narrowed. “Law? Where is that jerk? He should have been helping us!”

Bepo shrank down a bit as the leopard sighed. “He was a little tied up…”

“So was the leopard, and that didn’t stop it from saving us both!”

The leopard let out what sounded like a husky, exasperated meow, and Bepo twiddled his claws. “Law says that he would appreciate it if you stopped referring to him as an ‘it’. Please.”

“WHAT?!”

The leopard growled and gave what could only be described as an annoyed scowl as his ears flattened against his head at her loud shriek.

“He’d…also appreciate if you would refrain from being so loud, since his hearing is a lot more sensitive now.”

Well, that sounded like Law. Or at least a polite interpretation of whatever rude thing the Law leopard had more likely said. “Well, you can tell him—”

Holding up his paws to calm her down, Bepo explained, “He can understand you just fine. It’s you understanding him that’s the problem. Sorry.”

Tempting as it was to make a comment about how Law’s biggest problem was actually listening to people, she forced herself to instead study him in his leopard form. Now that she knew who he really was, it was easy to see some vague similarities. The gold eyes were definitely the same. There were black rings of fur under them that bore a passing resemblance to his sleep-deprived bags. The spots and fur were certainly reminiscent of his fuzzy hat. Hidden in the thick fuzz of his ears, Nami could just make out a quartet of gold hoops. And upon noticing her scrutiny, his lips turned up into a smug expression so similar to his trademark smirk that she had no choice but to accept that this was most definitely Law in snow leopard form.

Of course, this brought up more than a few questions. Crouching down to his level, she asked, “So, someone with a Devil Fruit turned you into a big, fluffy kitty?”

He growled at the description but reluctantly nodded.

“Do you think he’s the one who set up that snare you got caught in?”

Another nod.

“Why were your swim trunks ripped to shreds?”

Despite lacking the ability to visibly blush, Law was definitely embarrassed as he glanced away and grumble-meowed something under his breath. Luckily, Bepo’s sharp hearing was able to catch the explanation. “He says, ‘I may have freaked out a little, and they were suddenly way too tight around my waist. Plus, there was no room for my tail’.”

To her credit, Nami at least tried not to laugh, though she failed miserably. As a child, she remembered her and Nojiko once trying to dress up a stray cat they’d found like a doll, and it had not been happy about it. Her active imagination was quickly filled with visions of a leopard flailing around trying to emancipate himself from a pair of yellow swim trunks. The fact that said leopard was really the normally cool and collected Surgeon of Death made the notion even funnier, and she outright cackled at Law’s unimpressed scowl.

“Why didn’t you just Shambles yourself out of them?” she giggled when she finally caught her breath. Her amusement was doused in cold water when she realized the obvious answer. It was the same reason he hadn’t been able to free himself of the snare around his ankle.

Law gave her a look that clearly said “you think I didn’t try that?” However, he humored her by lifting up his paw and letting out a raspy meow that Nami didn’t need Bepo to interpret to mean “Room.”

Nothing happened. No blue bubble, no body parts flying around, not even the sand beneath them stirred.

Law was a snow leopard with human intelligence, but no Ope Ope no Mi powers.

All three of them hung their heads in despair. “This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation,” Nami grumbled, sticking out her bottom lip in a miserable pout. “An uninhabited island where we could all sit back, enjoy the sun, have a little party, and for once not be attacked or drugged or threatened. Glad to see your little plan to give us some downtime has been such a success.”

Law rolled his eyes and yowled in what could only be a bitingly sarcastic manner.

Bepo’s ears drooped as he glanced between him and Nami. “Do I have to translate that?”

“Don’t bother—I can guess what it was,” she replied, glaring at Law. “And you’d better watch your mouth, mister; otherwise you’re going to find yourself the latest addition to the nearest zoo!”

“Nami!” the Mink gasped, utterly horrified. “You wouldn’t really, would you?!”

Cheeks reddening with guilt, she mumbled, “No.” Her comment had, admittedly, been a bit out of line. At this point, offering Law to a zoo was tantamount to turning him in to the Marines for the bounty or selling him at an auction house. At the very least, she could understand why Bepo would take offense. “Sorry. I guess I’m just a little frustrated. I thought we were finally getting a break, and now this happens…” she trailed off as another horrifying thought hit her. She turned to the cooling animal corpses that surrounded them. “Wait. Those animals—you don’t think they were…”

She breathed a little easier when both Bepo and Law shook their heads. “They weren’t our crew. The way they spoke was kind of weird, but they were definitely talking about us like we were enemies.”

Law made a few growling noises, which Bepo translated, “‘None of the Hearts would have ever talked about you the way that baboon did, much less hurt you’.”

Despite herself, Nami had to smile a bit at the statement. She had no idea what that horrible primate had said, but she completely believed Law that her new friends would never lay a hand on her. Though they were certainly more ruthless than the Straw Hats, they’d proven themselves to be more noble than most pirate crews, and unquestionably loyal to those they cared about.

Nami would never trade her nakama for them, of course, but it was nice knowing that her initial distrust of the Heart Pirates had been unfounded.

Speaking of, they still needed to be found. If there really was a Devil Fruit user running around who could turn people into animals, they were in real danger.

Bepo seemed to share her concern. Turning to his captain, he asked, “So, what should we do? Go back to the ship and try to contact the others, or search the jungle for them?”

The second option definitely didn’t appeal to Nami’s sense of self-preservation. “It’s dangerous enough to wander randomly through the jungle at night—it’s even worse when there are traps hidden everywhere.” Rubbing her chin, she turned to Law. “Can’t you, like, track down the person who did this to you?” she asked. “I’m sure leopards have a pretty good sense of smell—sniff him out!”

Law growled irritably, which Bepo translated, “‘That’s what I was trying to do before I got caught in that snare. Unfortunately, I’m a bit new to being a damn leopard—I could pick out what I assumed to be a human scent, but actually following it was trickier than it seems’.”

“Ah. Ok, good point. What about you, Bepo?”

“I’m a bit better at tracking, but with all the animal scents and dirt kicked up by the battle, I’m not hopeful. It’d be easier if I had something to get their scent off of.” Perking up, Bepo smacked a fist into his palm. “I know! Let’s go to the landing site! I might not be able to track whoever turned Law, but I could probably find one of the other groups!”

Another cutting growl, and Bepo hung his head, ashamed. “I’m sorry. You’re right; we all should have just gone looking for you.”

Though she could understand his deference to his captain, Nami bristled slightly at the way he immediately deflated at the obvious reprimand. “Seriously, Law? You’re the one who sulked away on his own!” she scolded, poking his nose petulantly. “None of this would have happened if you’d stayed at the party and had some fun like you were supposed to!”

Batting away her hand, Law’s long tail flicked irritably as he replied with a series of deep meows and chuffs.

“Ummm, he says, ‘My powers literally could have found everyone and gotten them off the island in seconds. Finding me would have been the best course of action’.”

“Except you can’t even use your powers right now, so it would have been pointless! Besides, your crew shouldn’t rely on you for everything; situations like these prove exactly why!”

Gold eyes narrowed, and the angry string of snarls Law let out made Bepo gasp. “Law, that’s mean!”

“What did he say, Bepo?” she snapped, stubbornly meeting Law’s glare head-on.

The bear slouched further into himself as he mumbled, “He said ‘It’s situations like these that prove why I can’t leave you all to your own devices! Why I have to plan things out, because if I leave it to the rest of you, everything will go straight to hell’.” His round black eyes glistened as his bottom lip quivered. “Are we really such a burden, Captain?” he whimpered, wringing his hands in shame.

To his credit, Law’s ears drooped and his shoulders slumped as he regarded his navigator with clear guilt. Nami hoped his quiet meows were in apology and not some kind of bullshit justification, as Bepo mumbled, “It’s ok, Law. I understand.”

With a huff, Nami climbed to her feet. “So, we’re going back to the landing site, right? It’s our best shot, and maybe one or two of the other groups have returned.” Turning on her heel, she began marching west-ward down the sandy beach. “Besides, if we’re dealing with a Devil Fruit user, I’d much rather stick close to the ocean until we have a better plan.”

After a few moments, she heard the tell-tale sound of shuffling footsteps behind her. She found it unusual that, Law at least, was opting to let her lead. Glancing over her shoulder, she confirmed that a polar bear and a snow leopard were indeed following her, and not some dangerous creep waiting to turn her into a wild animal.

It was weird, looking down at Law instead of up for once. What must it be like for him in such an alien body? She supposed she should cut him some slack—of course he was frustrated, being unable to properly communicate with anyone but Bepo, the loss of his powers, being caught in a trap, and suddenly having stronger senses but no clear understanding of how to use them. Add in the stress of an unknown enemy and the chance that his crew was in danger, and Nami supposed she’d be a bit snappish, too.

He seemed to be adapting well to his new form, though. Even over her shoulder, Nami could admire the way he prowled gracefully across the sand. His enormous feet didn’t seem to sink too deeply into the fine grains, either. She imagined the beach, while quite different from the artic climate snow leopards thrived in, shared enough similarity with freshly fallen snow that the snowshoe-like paws were able to move across it almost as easily. And though he lacked his human height, Law’s luminous golden eyes were surely more adept at seeing in the twilight hours that had fallen.

Wait. Low height, plus superior vision, plus walking behind a beautiful woman…

“Bepo?”

“Yeah, Nami?”

“Law’s staring at my ass, isn’t he?”

The Mink twiddled his claws while the leopard appeared unapologetic. “Ummm…he says he’s just trying to make the best out of a bad situation.”

Nami could have screamed in outrage, but for the sake of both the pirate-turned-leopard and the Mink navigator, she refrained. “Well, then he owes me a 50,000 belli sightseeing fee.”

Before long, they were back at the party site, though it was clear they weren’t the first people to stop by. However, given the state everything was in, it was doubtful it had been the crew. Much of the food was gone. Beach bags had been emptied, their contents strewn about as if the culprit had been looking for something. Many of the blankets and towels were conspicuously missing, too, but most surprisingly was the absence of the grill.

“Yeesh. I don’t think the boar and his friends did this,” Nami quipped, righting one of the lounge chairs.

“If this Devil Fruit user is a castaway, he was probably scavenging for supplies,” Bepo noted as he tossed a few extra pieces of wood onto the smoldering fire to give them some more light.

That made sense. While the party had been ransacked, there didn’t appear to be any undo damage done. No violent slashes across the beach umbrellas, no bloody animal remains, not even a threatening note. “Hey, Law, did you get a good look at the guy that turned you?”

Law grunted and chuffed as he inspected the area, sniffing around for his attacker’s scent. “‘He caught me from behind, so I only managed to catch a glimpse of him as he ran off. He looked like an older man. Messy gray hair. Tattered clothes. Skinny, probably from malnourishment’.”

“Huh. Weird.”

“What is, Nami?” Bepo asked as he inspected the sand for footprints. It seemed their mystery assailant was pretty good at covering his tracks, though, as there was very little to indicate exactly where he’d disappeared back into the forest.

She cocked her hip and rubbed her chin as she spoke. “Well, physically at least, he doesn’t sound particularly strong. So why would he turn Law into a potentially dangerous predator? I mean, even if he’d set up traps to keep him from giving chase, that’s a hell of a risk, right?” She turned to Law to gage his reaction, only to stare at the apex predator in disbelief.

“What the heck are you doing?”

Law seemed just as surprised as she was at the fact that his tail was in his mouth. He let out a muffled meow, which Bepo translated to “‘I don’t know. It just feels right’.”

Nami was torn between laughing and smacking her forehead. On one hand, he was utterly adorable. The infamous Surgeon of Death, one of the most feared upstart pirate rookies on the Grand Line, was sitting on all fours, the tip of his fluffy tail caught gently between his teeth as he looked up at her with utter seriousness. On the other hand, it made her wonder if, the longer he stayed in that form, the more leopard-like he’d become.

“Hey, Bepo, you said those animals that attacked us sounded weird, right?” she asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as she could, even as her heartrate sped up in concern.

“Yeah?”

“Weird how?”

The two artic mammals glanced at each other. “Well, I guess it was kind of…primitive, almost? There wasn’t a lot of proper grammar. It’s kind of like when someone’s speaking another language, but they aren’t fluent, you know? Or when you’re trying to say something, but you can’t remember the right words to get your meaning across.”

“And Law didn’t sound like this?”

“No, he’s been pretty articulate.”

“Well, that’s good to hear!” she said with forced cheer, plastering a smile across her face. Though she should be reassured that the mental degradation didn’t seem to be instantaneous, the fact was, it sounded like it was inevitable.

However, it seemed that even in leopard form, Law wasn’t easily fooled. “He wants to know what you’re thinking, Nami,” Bepo said, white brow furrowing in concern.

Quickly thinking up a lie, she said, “I’m just wondering where those other animals might have come from! I mean, it’s safe to assume they were human, right? So, if it was obvious they could understand you, why did they keep attacking instead of asking us for help?”

Though the Mink seemed to consider her question, Law looked up at her sternly and let out a deep growl, hackles raised.

Blinking in surprise, Bepo translated, “He’s saying ‘While that’s a good question, do you really think I’m that stupid? It’s clear they’ve been in animal form for a while and are probably slowly losing their human minds. I already came to the same conclusion—I just didn’t say anything because that’s my problem, not yours’.”

“Like hell it’s not our problem!” Nami argued, stomping her foot in frustration. “You crew needs a captain! Preferably one that doesn’t risk the chance of turning completely feral someday!”

“‘I didn’t want to bring it up for the same reason you didn’t; to avoid panicking anyone! And it won’t be a problem if we can just find this asshole and make him change me back’!”

“And how exactly do you intend to ‘make’ him turn you human again, Law? You don’t have your powers, so you can’t scare him with those. We can’t risk killing him; that might just leave you like this forever!”

His eyes were steady and uncompromising as Bepo answered for him, “‘Then we’ll just slap him in Seastone cuffs and dunk him into the ocean until he agrees to turn me back’.”

Cold dread spread through Nami’s chest like frost on a windowpane while acrid bile bubbled up in her throat. She’d seen more than a few men drowned as torture and punishment during her time with Arlong. It had been something he’d found particularly amusing, as it further highlighted the genetic inferiority of humans compared to Fishmen. It had been one of the many reasons that, when Zoro had leapt into the water back at Arlong Park, she’d jumped in to save him—she’d witnessed more than enough men die in that pool.

She knew Law wasn’t as monstrous as Arlong, but it frightened her to think that, when pushed to the edge, he was capable of even considering such things. Aside from turning Law into an animal and stealing some of their stuff, had this guy really done anything to warrant what was probably the most horrible thing a person could do to a Devil Fruit user?

Blunt nails dug into her palms as Nami’s hands tightened into fists. Her stance widened slightly, as if ready for a fight, as she stared the Dark Doctor down. “You’re not torturing anyone, Law. I don’t care if this guy turns out to be a total psychopath—I’m not going to stand by and watch you torture a frail old man.”

“‘Do you want me human again or not’?”

Of course she did, but her conscience wouldn’t allow her to go that far. Looking for reinforcements, Nami turned to Bepo. “You agree with me, don’t you? I mean, how can you repeat what he just said with a straight face?”

The Mink looked dejected. “I don’t like it either, but if we don’t have any other choice…I mean, we can’t just leave him like this!”

“Then we should try to strike a deal with him! Pay him off! Reason with him! But if you expect me to just stand by while you fucking torture another human being—”

A loud, pained yowl from Law cut off her argument as he jerked forward, his left hind leg kicking out wildly. Nami jumped back to avoid his erratic movements as he blindly tried to claw at his back leg.

“Law! Law, what’s going on? Are you hurt?” Bepo cried as he grabbed his flailing body, trying to hold him still so he could examine him. However, it was Nami who noticed the odd coil of yellow, red, and black stripes peeking out from beneath the monochrome sea of spotted fur. Gasping, she realized what was wrapped around Law’s back foot wasn’t the remains of the snare, but a snake, its head buried in the thick fur to get to the tender flesh below.

“Snake!” she shrieked, pointing at the colorful ring that flexed against the leopard’s leg.

Black eyes widened as Bepo found the culprit. Holding down his flailing captain with most of his body weight, he used his long claws to try and pry at the tightly coiled serpent, but it was so long and thin that it kept slipping through his fingers.

“I can’t find its head!” he cried, panicking.

Taking a massive, unbelievably stupid risk, Nami grabbed one of the discarded fish skewers and jammed the sharp tip into the snake’s flesh. That seemed to force it to finally let go as it hissed in fury and pain, its head turning to glare at Nami with eyes full of unbridled hatred. It let go of Law, but despite its wound it struck out at her, its mouth latching onto her boot.

Luckily, its fangs couldn’t seem to penetrate through the thick leather, though it was clearly determined to try and chew its way through. Acting fast, Nami kicked off the boot and used her Clima-Tact to blast both it and the snake out into the ocean, where they landed with a barely-audible plop.

The threat taken care of, Nami turned back to Bepo, who was cradling the panting, hissing Law, petting his fur and coaxing him to calm down.

“Is it gone?” the Mink whimpered nervously.

She crawled back over to the duo, taking in the way Law’s feline face was pinched in agony while his back foot continued to twitch. “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure it was another transformed human like the rest of them, so there could be more. How’s Law?”

Swallowing hard, Bepo took a deep breath before donning a serious expression. “Do you know much about snakes?”

“No—venomous ones aren’t all that common in the East Blue.”

“We don’t get many in the North, either, but Law taught us emergency procedures for treating snake bites before we entered the Grand Line just in case. At least, enough to get us to the infirmary so he could remove the venom himself.”

“Ok, then what do we do? Make a tourniquet? Elevate his leg?”

Bepo looked horrified at her suggestion. “What? No! That’ll just make things worse! What I need you to do is check the wound to see how big the fang marks are and if there’s any swelling or discoloration.”

“Ok, yeah, I can do that,” she mumbled, though she squeaked nervously when Law instinctively kicked out at her when she tried to prod the wound.

“Easy, Law,” she whispered soothingly, petting his thigh in hopes that it would help him relax. “It’s just me. Bepo and I are just trying to help you. Just hold still for me, ok?” Her gentle touch combined with her coaxing tone seemed to get through to him as he managed to relax just a little, and she took the opportunity to part the thick fur away from where she’d seen the snake sink its teeth in.

The snake had been small, but smart—its fangs might not have been able to piece through Nami’s boot, but it had gone for the area that the coarse snare had rubbed and chaffed. In the center of the red ring of raw, faintly bleeding skin were two tiny, barely visible puncture marks.

“I don’t see any swelling. Do you think it was venomous?” she asked Bepo nervously, taking in the gasping, agonized face of Law. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed in her chest as his eyes clenched, trying to block out the pain. There were a ton of deadly snakes out there—vipers, cobras, copperheads, mambas—and given how none of the wildlife had been native to the jungle island so far, or even acted like they should, she couldn’t narrow any of them down!

“Given how much pain he’s in, I’d say yes.” Carefully, Bepo gathered his captain in his arms like a baby, lifting him up and scurrying towards the boats as quickly as he dared. “We need to get him to the ship right away; I’ll take him to the infirmary while you hit the library.”

“Why the library?” Nami panted as she climbed in after them, starting up the motorboat’s engine.

“Because Law stands no chance at survival if you can’t identify that snake.”

XXX

“How’s he doing?” Nami asked as she skidded into the familiar, sterile room of the infirmary, carrying Dr. R. Monroe’s Encyclopedia of the World’s Known Snakes in her arms. It had been the largest book on snakes she could find in the zoology section, and she’d been relieved to find it included colored photographs of the specimens documented. Her knowledge of snakes was limited, but she knew there were some breeds, like the king cobra, that could kill a human in as little as fifteen minutes—she didn’t have the luxury of going through every written description while Law’s life surely ticked away.

On the stainless steel table the leopard captain lay, panting faintly but at least no longer writhing in pain. Whether that was because it had subsided or he was forcing himself to remain stoic so as to not worry the pair of navigators, Nami wasn’t certain, but she admittedly breathed a little easier seeing him so calm.

Upon finishing wrapping a clean, cloth bandage around the leg, Bepo answered, “Aside from the pain of the bite, there haven’t been any noticeable symptoms yet. Even the wound itself hasn’t been swelling, though I did shave the area and wrap a clean bandage around it to avoid any infections. Unfortunately, the only antivenom we have is for jellyfish and other toxic sea creatures.”

“What about the others? Any luck reaching anyone on the den den mushi?”

His shoulders sagged. “No one’s answered yet. It rang and it rang…”

Plopping herself into a chair, Nami forced herself to not imagine all the reasons why no one was picking up. “We’ll try again later. Someone’s bound to pick up eventually. Or maybe they’ll call us—animals or not, surely one of them can figure out a way to reach out to us.”

Though he still looked nervous, his fellow navigator’s sure tone seemed to help ease his own doubts. “You’re right. In the meantime, we should figure out exactly what kind of snake bit Law. That’s the more pressing issue.”

“At least I caught a good look at it,” Nami sighed, cracking open the hefty tome. While Bepo continued to busy himself by fussing over his injured captain, pressing for details on his condition, she flipped through the pages, scowling at every snake she passed for daring to not be the one she needed. A few chapters in, though, her heart soared—she’d found a snake with the same colored stripes.

“‘Milk snakes are constrictors, so they're non-venomous. Their temperament is non-aggressive, and do not pose any risk to humans. Milk snakes have small, hooked teeth, rather than fangs. Although a bite may hurt, getting bitten wouldn't cause any serious harm’,” she read aloud.

“Phew! Sounds like we got lucky!” Bepo said cheerfully, though Law appeared doubtful. As he stared her down critically, she began to understand his concern—could a non-venomous snake bite hurt that much? And then there was the fact that the snake had clearly been as intelligent as the others. Even if its human mind had degraded, there was no way a constrictor that size would try to attack a seventy-pound snow leopard.

None of it was adding up, and her misgivings pressed her to take another long look at the glossy picture. The snake looked…similar, but not exactly like the one she’d seen. The head was different, too—the one she’d seen had a completely black head and was a bit rounder in shape. Studying the text further, her hopeful heart dropped into her stomach. “‘Some milk snakes have a striking resemblance to the highly-venomous coral snakes, in Batesian mimicry, which likely scares away potential predators. Both milk snakes and coral snakes possess transverse bands of red, black, and yellow’.”

“…so, he could have been bitten by a coral snake?”

Dread creeping through her veins as she heard Bepo whimper, she turned the page to find a side-by-side comparison photo, and she knew she’d been foolish to get her hopes up. Unlike the milk snake, what she’d seen had displayed wide bands of red and black separated by smaller yellow ones. Flipping to the page indicated in the footnote, her fears were confirmed.

“He was definitely bitten by a coral snake,” she stated, throat tightening. “According to the book, ‘coral snake venom is a neurotoxin that causes rapid paralysis and respiratory failure. It's actually the second most-venomous snake, second only to the black mamba, but it is regarded as far less dangerous because its poison-delivery system is not very effective. They are exceptionally painful bites, but their fangs are small so they cannot penetrate things like leather, and sometimes even fail to puncture human skin’.”

Black claws clutched his snout nervously. “But…Law’s not human right now, and it went after his chaffed leg. How quickly does it affect snow leopards?”

Swallowing hard, she skimmed through the paragraphs of text, flipping through the pages in the vain hope for an answer. “…it doesn’t say. Damn it! Whoever turned someone into a venomous snake is getting a lightning bolt straight to the chest!”

“I can’t believe this is happening!” Bepo cried woefully. “We never had to worry about things like this in the North Blue! Back home it was mostly frostbite and hypothermia—snakes were the least of our problems! I don’t know what to do about something like this!” His eyes started to fill up with tears as he whimpered, “He’s like my brother—I can’t lose him like this.”

Before Nami could figure out a way to comfort the Mink, Law had already sat upright and flicked his long tail across his younger crewmate’s nose to get his attention. As Bepo looked at him in apprehension, he uttered a few reassuring chuffs, even patting his arm with a fluffy paw.

“You sure?” Bepo sniffed.

An affirmative grunt, followed by a few more chuffs and meows, brought a smile back to the Mink’s cute face. “You’re right. It’ll take a lot more than a little bite to kill you, Captain.” He turned back to Nami, confidence in his captain instantly drying his tears. “Leopard or not, Law should be alright while we develop an antivenom.”

Though she was loathed to rain on their parade, Nami was a realist at heart, and no amount of comforting words was going the change the fact that Law currently had venom from one of the world’s most dangerous snakes pumping through his veins. “But how? I blew the snake away! How are we supposed to develop an antidote if we don’t have a sample of its venom?”

Nodding assuredly to himself, Bepo replied, “Antivenom isn’t the actual venom of the snake; it’s made by injecting small doses into lab animals, whose white blood cells create antibodies. The blood is then taken from the animal and then purified.” The Mink’s face lit up. “Law’s an animal! We could take a sample of his blood and purify it to make the antivenom!”

“Do you know how?”

A dark cloud of gloom settled back over his head. “No. Law was usually the one to do it, since it was easy with his powers. Sorry.”

Nami wanted to scream. Once again, Law doing everything himself and making his crew rely too much on his powers was coming back to bite them in the ass. He was the guy with all the plans; shouldn’t he have made contingency plans for when he was out of action? Even if snake bites were unlikely, what about when he was injured, or sick? What, had he planned on pushing through a serious illness until he collapsed? Only the most stubborn, moronic, irresponsible…

Her mental tirade trailed off as she was forced to acknowledge that she wasn’t entirely much better; when she’d fallen ill on the way to Alabasta, no one else knew how to use a Log Pose, forcing them to sail blindly until they’d managed to stumble upon Drum Island. Hell, at the time, she’d been the only one with any medical knowledge to boot! How much of a hypocrite was she if she berated Law for something like this when she’d made the same stupid mistake?

She was shaken from her thoughts by Bepo nervously tapping on her shoulder. “Nami, I hate to ask, but Law wants to know; what are the exact symptoms he can expect?”

Swallowing down her frustration and fear, she located the pertinent information. “‘It takes hours for symptoms to take effect and there is no pain or swelling of the wound itself after the fact. Initial symptoms include slurred speech, double vision, nausea, vomiting, abdominal pain, dizziness, and paralysis of the skeletal muscles. If it continues to go untreated, the lung muscles and heart muscles will become paralyzed, which leads to respiratory/cardiac arrest’.”

“That really doesn’t sound good.”

Law waved his paw in a gesture for Nami to bring the book over. Numbly she placed the tome in front of him, turning the page when she noticed that his snowshoe-like paw couldn’t quite manage the feat.

After a few more moments, Law let out a few matter-of-fact meows and chuffs.

“He says ‘So long as I don’t move too much and keep my heart rate down, I should be alright for up to thirteen hours before I start to suffer such effects. Six if I’m doing anything strenuous. We at least have time to come up with a plan’.”

Despite his reassurances, Nami couldn’t bring herself to get her hopes up again. “What plan, Law? We’re screwed! You’ve been bitten by one of the most venomous snakes in the world, you’re a leopard who can’t even use your powers to remove the venom or create an antidote, the crew’s still missing, there are dangerous people-turned-animals out there that want to kill us, and we don’t even know who turned you into a leopard in the first place!”

“He says, ‘Panicking isn’t going to do us any good. I have dozens of books on neurotoxins—surely one of them should have an antidote that can buy us some time. You’ll stay here and see if you can find one. Bepo and I will try to track down the man responsible for my transformation; if I can become human again, I’ll get my powers back, and the antivenom will be a moot point’.”

Jaw dropping as he realized what he’d just said, Bepo turned to yell at his captain, “You’re not going anywhere!”

“Damn right you’re not!” Nami snapped, slapping her palm flat across the metal table for emphasis. “You just said moving around would expediate the effects! Are you trying to kill yourself?!”

Ears flattening back against his head, Law let out a series of curt growls.

Instead of translating, Bepo replied, “First of all, you said so yourself that you don’t know how to properly track. Second of all, what if there are other snakes waiting to take a bite out of you? And third of all, I’m not going to let you run around in the jungle when you’re injured!”

A few more growls were cut off when Bepo stomped his foot stubbornly. “I’m not carrying you, either! We don’t know if there are any other enemy animals out there! You’ll be a sitting duck!”

Ears flattening back against his head, Law hissed in argument.

“Just because I have faith in you doesn’t mean I’m going to let you risk your own health like this! If anyone is staying here to do research, it’s you; you’ll have a better understanding of your medical books, anyway.”

Frustrated, Law pointed at the open book before wiggling his toes meaningfully.

“…ok, so maybe turning the pages will be a problem. Fine then; Nami will stay with you while I track the old man down.”

Gold eyes widened and then narrowed, and though Nami was firmly on Bepo’s side—and perhaps a little impressed that the meek bear was actually standing up to his captain—she couldn’t support this plan, either. “Even if you could sniff the guy out, it’s too dangerous for you to go alone,” she argued.

“Then what are we supposed to do, Nami? Sit around and wait for the guy to call us?”

Frowning sympathetically, she reached out and clasped one of his giant paws between her hands. “No, but we also can’t get into heated arguments—we need to keep Law’s heartrate down, remember.”

Eyes wide, Bepo watched Law’s broad chest heave as he tried to reign in his anger. Guilt immediately washed over the bear’s face as he realized he’d inadvertently helped speed up his best friend’s deadly condition. “I’m sorry,” he moaned, pulling away from Nami to wrap his big arms around Law, hugging him tightly. “I didn’t mean it! Please don’t die, Law!”

The pirate in question glowered over his shoulder for a moment before finally sighing in resignation, letting out a low grunt as he allowed the larger animal to cuddle him like a stuffed animal. After a few moments, though, he started panting again, and Law lifted his paws to push Bepo away.

“Are you ok? Am I hurting you?” the Mink asked anxiously, checking him for any obvious injuries.

A hint of a smile touched the leopard’s muzzle as he chuffed in response, and after a moment of stunned silence, Bepo let out a happy chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Nami asked, glancing between the two friends. The argument was over, at least, though she wasn’t completely sure this was a time for laughter.

Scratching his cheek bashfully, Bepo replied, “Sorry. Law just asked me to remind him to install the library’s air conditioning throughout the rest of the ship—he now fully understands why I complain so much about the heat.”

Nami frowned sympathetically. Law really did look miserable in all that thick fur, and the climate control in the infirmary didn’t seem to be cooling him down quickly enough. She took out her Clima-Tact and turned it to the lowest setting, pleased when she was able to successfully produce a cool breeze to blow across him. He gave an audible sound of relief as he stuck his face right into the wind, eyes closed tightly as he basked in the invigorating cold.

“It’s not much,” she mumbled, more to herself than the injured cat before her, “but I can at least cool you down. I won’t even charge you.”

This sucks, she thought to herself. The crew’s missing, Law’s on a ticking clock, and the most I can do is act as an air conditioner. We should have headed straight to Atifakuto instead of taking this stupid vacation. We should have known that even an unpopulated island on the Grand Line was still too dangerous to relax on. I should have made Law stay at the party, or at least gone with him. I should have kept an eye out for strange animals instead of arguing with him on the beach. I should have—

Nami nearly fell backwards in her chair in shock when Law crawled forward and rubbed his head against her neck and cheek, letting out a low purr. “Wha—?”

Beside them, Bepo smiled and cooed at the cute display. “Law says ‘Studies have shown that a cat’s purr, when it reaches certain frequencies, can lower stress levels and reduce the risk of heart attacks’.”

“Do leopard purrs reach that?”

“He doesn’t know, but the look on your face says it couldn’t hurt.”

She sighed, though her hand unconsciously buried itself in the thick, soft fur around Law’s neck. “I was that obvious, huh?”

The Mink rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “Just a little. We’re all scared, Nami, but we’ll figure something out. Law will come up with a brilliant plan eventually, and you Straw Hats always seem to pull off the impossible.”

The earnest show of faith in both his captain’s intelligence and her own crew’s uncanny luck finally brought a smile back to Nami’s face. It was like Bellemere always said; “if you can survive, happy times—lots of ‘em—will come your way.” Surely, they’d get through this, just like any other obstacle on the Grand Line. If nothing else, there was no point in getting caught up in a guilt spiral. She’d never been the sort of woman to accept blame for her own actions. Why should she beat herself up over circumstances out of her control?

Confidence returning and with Law still insistently butting his head against her, she gave in and started petting him, taking special care to scratch behind his large, fluffy ears. His purring grew louder as he leaned into her touch. Back on the beach she hadn’t been able to fully appreciate how luxuriously soft his fur was. Her fantasy of curling up on a cold winter’s night with Bepo and Chopper now included a very snuggly snow leopard sprawled across her lap.

“We’ll figure this out, ok Law?” she murmured into his fur. “Just trust us.”

At that moment, a purururu echoed throughout the infirmary, and three heads snapped in unison towards the den den mushi that was loudly ringing. Being the closest, Bepo scrambled to pick up the receiver, anxiously answering, “Hello? Crozier? Cousteau? Is that you?”

“Hello? What’s a Cousteau?” came a confused, scratchy voice on the other end. It was unfamiliar, but unquestionably that of an older man.

“Oh, sorry. He’s a diver.”

“Oh. Well, that’s not me.”

“Ok. Well, sorry to bother you.”

“It’s alright. Take care now.”

With that, Bepo hung up. It took him a moment to register the dropped jaws and exasperated stares his two companions were giving him. “What?”

“Bepo! That had to be the guy who did this!” Nami shouted, pointing at Law, whose tail was swishing back in forth in agitation as a paw tried to pinch the bridge of his nose to hold back his annoyance.

Black eyes widened as Bepo turned back around, speedily dialing the number for Crozier’s mini den den mushi.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s me again. You see, you’re calling from my shipmate’s phone, so I was wondering if you’d seen him? Or maybe the rest of my crew?”

“You mean those pirates? Yeah, I’ve seen them. Turned them all into animals, then locked them in cages!” he replied almost proudly.

“You did what? You jerk!” Bepo growled, glaring at the snail phone. “Why’d you kidnap my nakama?”

“They were trespassing on my island!”

“Oh, sorry,” he replied before remembering he was supposed to be angry. “Hey, what makes it your island, anyway? We found it months ago! Besides, that doesn’t mean you can just turn people into animals, you know!”

The snail glared back at the Mink stubbornly. “Well, I like animals much better than people. Especially when those people are pirates! I hate pirates the most!”

“Sorry.”

Sensing they were getting nowhere, Nami quickly shooed Bepo away from the den den mushi and said sweetly, “What a coincidence! So do I! They’re just the absolute worst, aren’t they?”

For a moment, the snail mimicked the look of surprise on the caller’s face before emphatically agreeing, “Just awful! They’re cruel and rude and just refuse to let me live in peace! I used to be a respected naturalist before they kidnapped me. Made me use my Iki Iki no Mi powers to turn people into animals for them!”

Oof, Nami thought with a wince. Sounds like this guy has a halfway-decent reason to hate pirates. Better stay on his good side. “Well, I’ll tell you what; how about I take these nasty pirates off your hands? If you hate them so much, wouldn’t it be better to turn them over to someone who could take them far away from your island?” The man sounded a little…odd, but despite calling them, he wasn’t laying down ransom demands or threats. Maybe he was a reasonable guy who’d settle for letting them go in return for being left in peace.

“Hmmm, maybe…” he mumbled, the snail flexing its jaw as he thought it over. “Wait. Can you swim, missy?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you sail one of those little boats I saw on the beach?

“Yeah.”

“Could you possibly get onto that wreck on the reef?”

“Yeah…”

“Then I’ll make you a deal—you get me a few things from that ship, and I’ll let the pirates go!” he said cheerfully.

Nami, Bepo, and Law all fell over in surprise. “What? I’m already doing you a favor by taking them off your hands!” she shouted into the receiver.

The snail’s expression turned unexpectedly sly. “Missy, you sound like a smart young lady. Surely you’re familiar with the concept of ‘supply and demand’?”

“Yes,” she ground out through her teeth. So much for this guy being friendly and reasonable.

“Well, I’ve got the supply, and you’ve got the demand. Therefore, if you want them back, you’ve gotta pay my price.”

“You’re not getting a single belli—”

“I don’t want money! Where the hell would I spend it? I’m just proposing a fair trade; the crew for some provisions from the shipwreck. I want a pair of thick, leather boots in a size ten. A thick coat for cold nights. Cooking utensils and pots and pans from the galley. Maybe a few books, too, if you can find any that haven’t been destroyed. If you can bring me all that, I’ll give you back your friends.”

Brow furrowing at the list of demands, Nami bit her lip. It wasn’t an unreasonable request. Hell, if anything it sounded like she was getting the better end of the deal, which naturally made her suspicious.

“Why do you need me to get these things for you? What’s your game?”

The snail shook its head, expression sincere. “No game, missy; I’m a Devil Fruit user, so trying to get out there myself would be suicide, even with a boat.” There was a tense pause before he added meekly, “Please? All I’m asking for are some basic supplies so I can live out the rest of my days in peace. I’m not looking to hurt anybody—my powers have done that enough over the years.”

Nami could hear the self-loathing in his voice and she felt suddenly sympathetic. This was definitely a man who’d been abused by his captors. “Look, I get being afraid of a bunch of pirates showing up, but your powers did hurt someone. The guy you turned into a snow leopard got bitten by a coral snake.”

The snail’s eyes widened in horror. “He did?!”

“Yeah.”

“Then even if you don’t want to help me, you need to get to that ship! The pirates who used me dealt in snake venom among other things, so the infirmary always carried a heavy supply of antivenom.”

“Really?!” Nami asked, flabbergasted. Out of the corner of her eye, Nami saw Law perk up, and Bepo had started quietly doing a little happy dance beside him at the good news.

“Really. Hell, that snake is why I want the boots—he can’t bite through leather.” After a moment, the man’s voice turned compassionate. “Ok, of course your first priority is going to be getting that antivenom. I’m still not letting your crew go without a trade, but I can wait until your friend is safe. You need to administer the antivenom over several hours to be effective, and it’s best to wait until paralysis has begun to set in to avoid a potential allergic reaction. How long has it been since he’s been bitten?”

“About an hour.”

“Alright. I can hold out until dawn, but no later. I’m on a bit of a ticking clock myself—that snake that bit you? He’s one of my old captors, along with the other aggressive animals on the island. Now that there’s a ship they can use to sail out of here, they’ll be more determined than ever to kill me.”

“Why?”

“So they can turn back into humans. Not that I’m sure that’ll work, but it’s a risk you can’t exactly take, is it, missy? Not if you want your own pirates back to normal.”

Nami bit her lip. Well, that was a bit of a problem. “How many of your old crew are out there? I was able to launch the snake into the ocean, and we killed a baboon, a boar, and a ram…”

“Unfortunately, there’s still a few more out there, then, and they’re even worse.”

She could have screamed. Just when it seemed like it was smooth sailing ahead, another storm had to form on the horizon. “If they were your captors, why didn’t you turn them into fuzzy bunnies or something?” she groused.

“Because while I can turn people into animals, I can’t always control what form they take—especially if they a strong will. Making them herbivores and snakes with small teeth was the best I could manage.”

Sighing, Nami ran a hand over her face. She needed to focus on the bright side—there was a supply of antivenom nearby, the Heart Pirates were alive, and their captor was willing to trade them for some pretty basic stuff.

She looked at the nearby desk clock. Low tide would be in a few hours—it would be safest to explore the wreck then. But how long would it take to get everything this weird old man was demanding? Could they risk multiple trips? Would he still be alive by the time they got back?

There were a lot of tricky variables to contend with, but it was still better than nothing.

Squaring her shoulders, Nami said resolutely into the receiver, “You’ve got a deal, then. Keep this den den mushi with you—I’ll call once we have your things. If your old captors attack, call us so we can come save your ass. Like you said, we can’t risk you dying.”

The snail gave a small, shaky smile. “Be careful, missy. That ship’s been out there for nearly two months; I’m not sure how safe it is now.”

Glancing over at Law on the examination table, she gave him a confident grin. “Don’t worry about me—I’m a Straw Hat. My nakama and I always seem to pull off the impossible.”

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katsukiboom · 5 years ago

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Emerald Green and Darkness

hey guys! this is a commission for my dear @xpegasusuniverse, who requested a retired Eraserhead with an equally old cat, I hope you guys enjoy this! <3

Ko-Fi || Commissions

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The smell of vanilla and the warmth of the place quickly engulfed 53 year-old Shōta’s presence as soon as he entered the little house at the end of the street – Hizashi had found it by chance online and presented it to him, and while it didn’t look sketchy at all it still felt weird to just drop by someone’s house with the excuse of adopting a new pet. The ad his loud best friend had seen only spoke about a middle-aged woman who rescued kittens and nursed them back to health with the help of her quirk, much like Recovery Girl used to do all those years back then.

With grey replacing most of the black in his hair and beard, he sighed as he eyed the place with a certain glee growing inside. It wasn’t long until the petite woman came rushing from behind one of the few doors that were on sight, and quickly introduced herself as the owner of the place. She went on to talk about how she had loved Eraser Head before he retired from the hero world, something that he didn’t feel too comfortable discussing but didn’t do anything to stop either. He thanked her with a small smile. She remarked one last time that she had been beyond thankful for everything he had done, then saw all the strays that were still looking for the one person who’d give them all the love they deserved.

In all honesty, Shōta wanted to take them all home, but as they passed through a small bedroom a dark lump on top of the single bed caught his attention, causing him to stop walking and stare questionably at the breathing figure.

“Oh, that’s one we got a few weeks back,” the old lady told him gently as she noticed he wasn’t following her anymore, walking back to his side. Both their gazes on the animal, they watched as it began to stretch and he noticed there was something funny about him – he only had three legs.

“I can only guess he had an accident,” the woman continued. “We found him when his injuries were still healing. At least, I’d like to think it was an accident. He’s also missing an eye, and the doctor told us we had been lucky to find him before it could fester. Due to him being about 13 years old, they only gave him six months.”

“Can I?” asked a curious Shōta, and the lady only nodded.

“He doesn’t really get along with people… it took him so long to even trust us enough to eat what we gave him.”

Despite her words, something pulled him closer, and his hunch hadn’t been wrong.

He ended up taking the green-eyed cat with him that same day, after a bit of struggling to get him in the cage. When they got to his apartment the blob scuttled away from him as soon as the small metal door opened. Shōta then spent all the remainder of the afternoon trying to get him out from under his bed, only to sit right beside it to eat dinner, putting a plate with food next to him in hopes the cat would come out.

It took him a few days, just like the lady had told him, to get it to trust him enough to eat freely when he was around. Soon he found its company to be rather… peaceful. Even during his long walks out all he could think about was if the cat was alright or if it was hungry, if he should buy him more toys or even new kinds of food. Hizashi found his friend’s new facet quite adorable, yet was turned down whenever he requested to meet his pet, partly because Shōta knew how the cat acted around strangers and partly because he feared he’d make it deaf by accident.

As he soon came to know, taking care of a cat also meant having to take extra care of your furniture. He didn’t get mad as the old cat learned how to use his litterbox but rather at how he seemed to do his business everywhere else for a while as well, testing Shōta’s patience. For some reason, the man believed the pet knew he was pissed off at this attitude and eventually stopped doing it, instead turning to scratching whatever he could lay his paws on. Shōta soon bought him the thickest scratching post he could find online, hoping that would end the rebellion that had left parts of his couch and coffee table completely ruined. Despite the ruined furniture, he was happy that the disabilities didn’t stop the cat from doing its own thing.

Surprise filled the old man when, one morning around three weeks after that, he woke up and felt a lump at the end of the bed right above his feet as if to keep them warm. Opening his eyes and sitting up quickly in fear that it was something bad, he saw his companion sleeping lazily over him, only opening his eye to look at him as if he was crazy and then stretching before going back to sleep. A big smile appeared on his lips and the mere sight made his heart warm up. Not really having the will to make the cat move from the bed – he lay back down and opened his phone, quickly sending a photo to the group chat with Hizashi and Nemuri to share the amazing thing he had just witnessed.

It was only when she asked about its name that he realized he hadn’t really given it much thought at all, and then spent most of that afternoon trying to come up with something that suited both the cat and him. The task proved to be harder than he had imagined, and Shōta gave up when the clock reached 7 pm. Instead he took a moment to sit on the floor with it nearby as he turned on the TV to catch up on the events that were going on in the city. It had been quite a peaceful day much to his surprise, with no real bad news to worry about when a familiar face caught his attention right before he started to channel-surf. Green curls and a gentle smile with freckle-covered cheeks were the main features that decorated the familiar face Aizawa was now watching attentively, and Deku’s imposing voice filled the room with ease.

“Oh, look at that,” he talked to the cat as if it could understand every word he said. “I know him very well. Used to be my student and was quite a troublemaker at first… much like someone I know,” he muttered with a smile on his face. A soft meow distracted him from the screen for a moment and he noticed the animal now standing right in front of the screen, looking up at Izuku like he was the only thing to focus on at the moment. “What are you doing?” he asked softly, trying to call out to him but to no avail. “Do you like Deku?” To this, the cat’s ears perked up and it looked at him with its eye open wide. Then it went back at him and meowed again. “Deku,” Aizawa repeated, but the cat didn’t move this time. “De…” he started, carefully watching the animal in front of him look back at him with a curious gaze. “Ku?” To that one syllable, its eye widened once more as it got up on its hind legs and the man had an idea pop into his mind.

After that night he ended up naming the cat Kuro, both because of its colour and because it reminded him a lot of Izuku himself – rough around the edges when he met him yet sweet and diligent on the inside. Both took their time to truly open up and let others see their true self. Just as if he knew, his pet got used to the name faster than he would’ve expected and even seemed happier when called by it. Shōta’s friends also seemed to like the nickname, laughing just a little bit when he told them the backstory but agreeing that the cat had been a troublemaker at first.

Shōta didn’t notice until the seventh month that Kuro had actually managed to surpass his assumed lifespan of only six months left and while he didn’t think much of it his heart stirred a bit in his chest as he snuggled closer to it one night, its warmth and little paws on his chest more than enough for him to be sure that everything would go more than fine. He had never paid much attention to his own way of acting or if having a pet had changed him at all and vice versa, yet all he could think about was coming back home every day to spend time with him and revel in the company as much as he could.

It was almost as if it had been fate bringing them together but Shōta would never admit to believing in such an erratic thing – he did however believe that it had been their love for each other that had managed to make the pet stay by his side almost twelve times the amount of days that had been given to it up to its seventeenth summer, making the old man very happy as they counted birthdays and holidays together and just coursed through life relying on each other for support. Not even once did Shōta remember the cat’s disabilities and in return Kuro didn’t seem to be bothered about his owner’s casual aloofness and low energy, choosing instead to keep his distance until Aizawa called out to him.

But good things always come to an end, and Aizawa Shōta knew this very well.

After almost four years of living together, it became apparent to him that there was something wrong when the cat gradually stopped grooming himself as often as he was used to witness and eventually started keeping its distance as well, choosing to sleep hidden under the coffee table or just lying on the couch, but not with him. When he noticed those symptoms he didn’t hesitate on taking him to the vet in order to prevent something worse happening to him, though the news he was given was less than encouraging. Shōta had to stop himself from crying right then and there at the vet’s office – the cat wasn’t ill but rather naturally dying due to aging and Kuro’s bright green eye was fixed on him, as if he knew what was happening in his owner’s heart.

It wasn’t as if Aizawa chose not to focus on anything else the next few days – he just couldn’t rid his mind of the worst scenarios possible, even if they felt closer than ever before. Having been through so much with his pet, he felt the need to do whatever he could to make him feel better; he tried to help him groom, eat and brought him to bed at night, but it was only when they paid another visit to the vet for a check-up that he was told there was really no use in doing so. With his hopes crushed and his heart still not ready for what would unfold sooner or later, he returned home that evening to a cloudy sky that mirrored his feelings in every way.

It all came down to a bittersweet ending when one morning, he woke up to feel the same familiar lump at the end of the bed; sitting up slowly and stretching his arms, Shōta would’ve thought it was one of those rare days when Kuro decided to sleep with him had it not been because his perception was extremely good. Reaching out, he took the frail, lifeless body on his hands and brought it close to his chest, unable to conceal the tears that came out after making sure his best friend had already gone to a better place. He felt a knot forming in his throat as he tried his best to hide his crying and bottle it up as he always did, but it was all for nothing when he realized he hadn’t had the chance to say a proper goodbye.

“I hope you’re better and happier now, I’ll try not to miss you too much,” he murmured against the cold fur, and for a moment he thought he had heard a soft meow come from somewhere close in the room which made him look up and around. With wet cheeks and a heavy heart he smiled, knowing he wasn’t truly alone still.

Thank you for everything.

#bnha #aizawa shota #bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #mha eraserhead #mha aizawa #boku no hero academia #boku no hero scenarios #boku no hero imagines #mha imagines #mha scenarios #eraserhead #mine #anime commissions #ko fi link

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itskimtaehyung · 5 years ago

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Blindspot

Who is he? Who is the man with no eyes?

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader (non romantic)

Genre: Supernatural Horror, Drama

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: Everywhere you turn, he’s there, just barely on the edge of your vision. No one else seems to see him. He outside on the street, in your house, in your room. Yet, no matter how hard you try, you’re unable to look at him directly.

Warnings: mentions of death and blood

A/N: if y’all dont already think i’m the worst procrastinator ever i’ll have you know that i started this fic in august of 2018 and meant to finish it for halloween of 2018 but i couldn’t even finish it in time for halloween of 2019 bc im trash

Two children, a boy and a girl, played along the rocks at the waterfront. It was overcast today, as it usually was, and a dense fog rolled over the bay toward the shore. They scuttled along, chasing crabs, attempting to grab the tiny, orange critters as they disappeared into the water. Their mother watched from a bench a few feet away.

“Be careful, loves. We can’t afford to lose anymore people here.”

The children nodded understandingly and proceeded with their activity. That is, when the eldest, the sister, spotted something strange amongst the jagged rocks that jutted out from the mellow tides.

“Mommy! What’s that?”

The mother stood up from the bench and calmly strolled over to her daughter. She peered down at the rocks, and saw the strange figure that was jammed between them.

The mother let out a sigh. “That’s Stephanie. Do you remember her? She baked brownies for the bake sale last month.”

The son nodded. “I thought she went missing last week.”

“She did. This is where the people who go missing sometimes end up. Come on, children.” She held out both her hands and each child took one. “You two walk on home while I go tell Sheriff Strazzeri.”

Emerald Bay was too small for a proper sheriff’s department, or a crime scene investigation unit. It was just Sheriff Strazzeri, passionate about the law, and his son, Will, who attended the town’s subpar, probably not accredited by any other town’s standards, medical school. Together they investigated all the weird things that happen in this tiny town.

People always say there’s nothing to do in Emerald Bay. They’re pretty much right. It’s a small coastal town, with a population of about four hundred and declining. On the east side of Emerald Bay is the Marina, lined with abandoned boats that smell of rotting fish and are covered with ancient, dried-up barnacles. On the west side is your ticket out: a dirt road that leads into the forest, a thick, dense barrier of emerald painted evergreens. That’s where the town gets its name. And past the forest is the farmland, and past the farmland is the big city. So why don’t people leave Emerald Bay? Why don’t they abandon it completely?

The answer? No one ever makes it out of the forest alive.

Everytime someone packs their bags and tries to leave Emerald Bay, something prevents them from truly leaving. You remember when you were young, maybe three or four years old, your neighbor, Ben, decided he had enough of the monotony of this town, and got in his car and started driving. You thought he was off to a bigger and better life, somewhere out in the big city, but three days later, they found his car broken down on the road in the forest, with his dead body rotting inside.

A few years before that, a woman who had been widowed, thought it was too difficult living in the house she had shared with her husband. She didn’t even take her things. She just started walking. She wandered into the forest, and a few days later, her body was found floating in between the boats at the Marina. In the pocket of her yellow raincoat was a piece of paper, surprisingly undamaged. On it was a drawing, done in what appeared to be blood. It looked like it was drawn by a toddler, simple and cartoonish. It was of a man, or rather a stick figure, with something over his eyes. Below the drawing were two words: SAVE ME.

This has been going on for as long as anyone can remember. Residents have tried to explain this strange phenomenon, sometimes with outlandish theories. But the most common theory, and what you think is the most plausible one, sprang from the drawing found in the widow’s pocket.

Many think that she was trying to warn us. That she drew it in a haste before she died. Many think that there is a man in the forest. One that wears a piece of cloth over his eyes. One that takes the lives of anyone who wanders into his home.

Supposedly he lives in the forest alone. Deep into the dark woods, making himself known only at night. His skin and his hair are an ashy gray, and he is said to glow under a full moon. But the most distinguishing thing about him is he always wears a black blindfold. Why? Because he is blind. Because he is the man with no eyes.

You have always been interested in this kind of stuff. The spooky, the scary, the unsettling. Slenderman theories completely consumed you in grade school. So did werewolves, ghosts, and all things supernatural. You’ve always managed to prove them all as myths. Except this one.

You had almost forgotten about the man in the forest until last week.

Mark was a well beloved citizen of Emerald Bay. You had been in school with him your whole life. He was so incredibly smart and gifted. Everyone thought he would become mayor one day or something. That is, until a couple of weeks ago, when he went missing.

His family said he went to buy milk from the grocery store and he never returned. All of Emerald Bay were on the lookout, although there aren’t very many places to hide in such a small town. He had no reason to run away either. His parents were very loving, and his friends were supportive. No one ever imagined that he would do such a thing.

A week after Mark went missing, his body is found at the edge of the forest. There’s no sign of injury, and he wasn’t gone long enough to die from thirst or starvation. Will can’t find anything wrong with him. He can’t even determine when Mark had died.

As an ordinary citizen, you don’t have access to many of the details surrounding Mark’s death. All the information you get is from what they print in the local newspaper, and you know those things never tell the whole story. You began volunteering at the local library a few months back, hoping to gain more access to the towns archives, but there are so many newspapers and journals that it quickly became overwhelming, and you put a pause on poring through them. However, being the urban legend enthusiast you are, you want to know more, and the only way to get information is to dig it up yourself.

That’s why you waited until tonight, the night of the first full moon since they discovered Mark’s body. You equip yourself with a flashlight, pepper spray, and a sledge hammer (you know, just in case). You’ve never hunted this kind of creature before, so you don’t know what kind of equipment you would need. It’s stupid to go out into the forest alone, especially on the night of a full moon, but you don’t know anyone stupid enough to agree to go with you.

The streets are dead, as they are every night, when you pull your car up to the edge of the forest. You can see the full moon peeking through the branches of the trees, round and luminous.

You must go on foot from here. The roads in the forest are bumpy and jagged from the tree roots breaking through the asphalt. You would bust a tire within seconds of entering.

The chilly sea breeze nips at your skin when you exit your car. You pop open your trunk and grab your hunting supplies: An EMF meter you built yourself, your sledge hammer for defense, holy water blessed by Reverend Kang, some dried sage, and a wooden stake because vampires aren’t real but you never know, right?

You close the trunk and step away from your car. The breeze seems to get stronger as you walk toward the forest, almost as if it’s pulling you into it. You let it lure you in amongst the trees. You follow it until you can’t see your car behind you anymore, and still you continue on. You make your way around a large tree and then stop dead in your tracks. In front of you is a figure, glowing so brightly that you can’t discern any actual shapes. You just know that it is vaguely human.

“Y/N.” The sound echoes in your ears. The voice is melodic, calming, unlike anything you’ve heard before.

You struggle to catch your breath. “H-how do you know my name?”

“I know everything.” The figure lifts its hand up and beckons you. “Come closer.”

You can feel your limbs wanting to move on their own. You try to resist it and stand your ground. You don’t want to go near him. You want to stay a safe distance away, but he’s too strong, and he pulls you closer to him. Soon, the two of you are face to face, and you can make out his features. His hair glows silver, and his icy white skin contrasts starkly with the black blindfold that covers his eyes. He radiates a strange energy, one that you’ve never experienced before. It’s cold, yet warm at the same time. Goosebumps prickle on your skin, yet your body feels feverish. Your chest feels tight as you struggle to fill your lungs with air.

“W-what are you?”

He doesn’t hesitate to answer. “I am ancient. I am the only one of my kind, therefore I don’t have a name. But you may call me Jimin.”

“Jimin,” you mutter in awe. You have so many questions for this strange creature. You never thought you’d actually find him, and now that you have, you must make the most of it. “There are so many things I want to know. Why do you take people? Why do you kill the residents of Emerald Bay?”

“I simply call to them. It is their choice whether they answer or not.”

“Are you calling me to right now?”

“Yes.” Jimin furrows his brows in confusion. “But you seem to be resisting my charm.”

“I’m not here to be your next victim.”

“Then why are you here?”

“LIke I said before. To find out why you take people, why you kill them.”

“But that’s not the only reason. The people who come here are unhappy. They want more from Emerald Bay. No one wanders into the forest, no matter how curious, unless they don’t mind being taken.”

“That’s not true,” you refute.

“Isn’t it? Think about everyone who has wandered in here. Think about your own self.”

You open your mouth to speak, to tell him he’s wrong. But with the blink of an eye he’s gone.

You drive home dejectedly. Yes, you found Jimin, but now you have more questions than answers. What is he? Why does he kill people? How does he do it?

You get farther and farther away from the forest. It’s nearly morning and the AM fog is starting to roll in from the ocean, coating the town in a thick blanket of gray. It’s so thick, you can barely see the block ahead of you. Your eyes momentarily wander away from the road to check your mirrors. Your tires screech as you suddenly slam on the brakes. You rub your eyes and blink. You could have sworn you just saw something in your back seat. And you’re almost positive that something was Jimin. But as you glance back up at your rear view, there’s no one there. It’s just your empty back seat and the eerie fog behind you.

You tell yourself that you’re just seeing things. You didn’t get any sleep last night and you’re starting to hallucinate.

When you get home, you’re so exhausted that you immediately collapse onto your bed and fall asleep. If you dream that night, you don’t remember any of them.

You sleep until you can’t anymore, and you lay in bed until your body aches. It screams at you to get up, and so you do, making your way to the bathroom to wash your face.

You splash the cool water over your skin, rinsing off the cleanser that still clings to the area around your eyes. Afterward, you use a towel to pat your skin dry and take a look in the mirror. You freeze and nearly drop the towel. Over your shoulder, you can see Jimin standing, watching but not watching.

You whip around but there’s nothing there. When you look back in the mirror, he’s nowhere to be seen. You got plenty of sleep this morning, so there’s no reason for you to be seeing things. But what else could possibly explain this?

Something doesn’t feel right.

As hard as you try, you can’t bring your eyes to open. You can sense it. You can feel something in your room. You sense an unmistakable presence at the foot of your bed. It feels, evil, demonic, malevolent.

You gasp for air, but the blankets seem to suffocate you. You want to push them off so you can breathe, but you’re paralyzed. Your heart races as you try to will yourself to open your eyes, to take a deep breath, anything.

As quick as it comes, the feeling is gone. Your heart is beating out of your chest. You wiggle your toes to see if you can move again, but you’re too scared to open your eyes. Instead, you bury yourself deeper beneath your covers and try to fall asleep, but you can’t shake the feeling that something truly evil was just in your room.

When you finally succumb to slumber, you dream of the forest that night.

You’re running. The brisk air and the smell of pine nip at your nostrils. Your lungs burn, and no matter how hard you push yourself, you can’t seem to move faster than a crawl. You feel something chasing you, and you’re trying to get away. You’re trying to get back to the main road where you’ve parked your car, but the only thing around you is endless forest. Your heart feels as if it’s going to explode.

Faster, faster, you tell yourself. But it’s no use. You can’t go any faster.

You run and run. You don’t see the fallen branch on the ground until your foot catches on it, and you hurdle forward, putting your hands out to break the fall.

But you never hit the ground, because the panic jolts you awake.

This time you’re able to open your eyes, and it’s daylight out. Your clock says 7:03, twelve minutes before the alarm is supposed to go off and you have to get ready for school.

When you sit up your brain pounds with a massive migraine that leaves you a bit nauseous. You wash your face in the sink like you do every morning, but today, you don’t see Jimin in the reflection with you. You bend over to rinse the cleanser off your face, and when you stand back up straight, you’re hit with a sudden wave a dizziness. Bile makes its way up your throat and you heave violently into the sink until it’s filled with thick, dark blood.

When you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you see your mouth covered in red. You stumble back as a high pitched scream rings through your ears.

Your mom rushes up the stairs and sticks her head in to the bathroom. “Is everything alright? Why did you scream?”

You turn to face her. Can’t she see that your mouth is covered in blood? She’s not looking at you in horror, her concerned expression does not waver. When you glance back in the mirror, there’s no blood to be seen, and the sink is spotless as well.

“Ye-yeah, Mom. I just…” you wrack your brain for an excuse, “thought I saw a spider. That’s all. Everything is fine.” But you can still taste the metallic tang on your tongue.

When she leaves you look back in the mirror and Jimin stands in her place. You can feel his gaze piercing through the cloth over his eyes.

With the blink of an eye he’s gone.

Your life goes on like this for days, weeks. Everywhere you turn, he’s there, just barely on the edge of your vision. No one else seems to see him. He outside on the street, in your house, in your room. Yet, no matter how hard you try, you’re unable to look at him directly. You can’t sleep. You can barely eat. You can’t focus.

You can’t stand it anymore. You need answers.

The Emerald Bay Library is old, much like all the other buildings in Emerald Bay. It’s been here for longer than even the oldest residents of the town can remember. Its shelves are filled mostly with novels from the previous century. No one knows where they came from. They seemingly just manifested one day. It’s part of the mystery of how this town came into existence.

After your volunteer shift, you tell Head Librarian Kim that you’re going to stay behind to do some research for a class project. He hands you the keys and tells you to lock up when you’re done without questioning you any further. The second he leaves, you head a computer to search the town archives. You look for journals, newspaper articles, anything that documents strange and inexplicable happenings. You write down some promising pieces along with their call number and set off to find them.

When you turn the corner to head down one of the aisles, you can feel him. You look around you, seeing if you can find him lurking in the shadows. You don’t see anything, but his presence, the heaviness in the air, this thick, eerie feeling, is unmistakable.

Shrugging it off, you scan the bookshelf for what you’re looking for. You trace your fingers over it’s spine, almost as old as the town itself.

The Mystery and Lore of Emerald Bay

You pluck the book from the shelf. It’s dusty, like it hadn't been touched in years.

You wander over to the tables that sit in between the shelves and take a seat. The book’s leathery cover feels dry beneath your fingers. Stiff and crusty. Dust flies up toward your face as you open the book and flip through its yellowed pages, filled with handwritten and hand drawn accounts of unexplained phenomena that once sent the town into panic.

The first is the chupacabra, from the time the town’s cattle were disappearing. Turns out it was just a resident who didn’t want to pay for beef at the local butcher shop and decided to take and slaughter them for himself.

Then the Emerald Bay Monster, which was quickly determined to merely be driftwood.

Along with a few other things that have since been solved by modern science. Things like poisonous mushrooms, lightning bugs, and fairy rings.

Finally, at the end of the book, you find what you’re looking for.

The Man with No Eyes

You skim through the introduction and description of Jimin, then some eye witness accounts written by former residents of Emerald Bay, long dead from old age or maybe even something more sinister. Then you find what you’re looking for.

Not much is known about this mysterious man, only that he kills. Some say that he is both immortal and invulnerable, making him impervious to any harm one might attempt to inflict upon him. However, there are rumors from the ancient times about this man. There have been no records of whether anyone has actually attempted these methods, however, the creature still stands, which is a testament to something. If one truly wants to know, legend has it that the only way to kill him is–

You’re about to turn the page only to find that the subsequent pages have been ripped out, and on the back cover, written in what appears to be blood, are the words:

YOU CAN’T KILL ME

You drop the book as soon as you see it.

You want to yell at him, to scream. But it’s hard to talk to something you can’t face directly. “What do you want? Why won’t you leave me alone?”

“I will be here until you give into me.”

You whip your head around, only to be met with dusty bookshelves and darkness.

“Is this how you got the others to do it? By messing with their heads? Come out where I can see you!”

That’s when the bright, glowing figure steps out from the shadows and stands in front of you. His face is expressionless as he stares at you through the pitch black blindfold.

“Do you think they just happened to go to the forest, just because you wanted to?” Jimin asks. “No, that was me, calling to them. And now I am calling to you. I have come to claim you. It is your time.”

You shake your head and stand your ground.

“Come to me,” he beckons.

“And what if I don’t?”

“Then I will choose someone else,” he answers plainly.

“I don’t want someone else to die but I don’t want to die either!”

”Then don’t. You don’t have to die. Just come to me.”

“Why don’t you just leave me alone? Why don’t you leave all of us alone?”

“It’s not in my nature. My species feeds off of your energy, your sadness.”

“And if we don’t give it to you, you die?”

Jimin chuckles. “No, you can’t kill me that easily. I simply get angrier, more violent until I get what I want.”

When he smiles, you can see his teeth. Sharp, jagged. There are rows of them, like shark teeth. Your heart pounds in your chest. You take a step back, but Jimin is quick to step toward you. You take another step, but the backs of your legs hit the table. You quickly dart your eyes around the room, searching for an exit route. There are tables, chairs, and shelves in the way. The main entrance is on the other side of the library, and Jimin stands in the way of the emergency door.

“There’s nowhere for you to run, Y/N. Because as fast as you run, I will always be faster.”

“What happens when I give in?”

“You’ll find out.”

He removes his blindfold to reveal the brightest, most blinding light you have ever seen.

The same woman watches as her children play along the shore. a light breeze blows a crumpled piece of paper to her feet. she picks it up and reads it, sighing.

MISSING PERSON Y/N Along with a photo your mom took of you two years ago.

You’ve been missing for over two months now. Usually the bodies turn up within a couple of weeks. No one was brave enough to go into the forest to look for you. Not even Officer Strazzeri. Not even your mother.

Maybe you weren’t taken. Maybe you were a lucky one. Maybe you were actually able to escape Emerald Bay onto bigger and better things.

#networkbangtan #armiesnet #btswriters #bts writing squad #busanboysnet #park jimin #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin #my writing #mine

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demytasse · 5 years ago

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[Shinra & Shizuo] Inebriated Idiocy

The situation required contemplation of certain moral ramifications, as brief as that consideration might last.

On one hand, alcohol was said to be the window to someone’s truest thoughts; bring about their most genuine feelings and unconscious desires. On the other hand, Shinra was an intellectual that keenly understood the human psyche; he knew better than to believe societal nonsense. In actuality, alcohol only lowered someone’s inhibitions enough to vocalise thoughts exactly as they formed; this included, but wasn’t exclusive to situational opinions, primal reactions to anything remotely sexual, and sober observations that hadn’t been sussed out.

So honestly, Shizuo letting himself into Shinra’s apartment with an odd request might have coincidentally been his own influence, the other day asking for blood and marrow samples in jest, yet again. Which the tease seemed to continue its bumble ‘round his friend’s absent mind.

Not having much going on up there must explain why it’s still relevant.

His drunken stupour was no different than a conclusion from a simple dream; what was sorted alongside other curious tidbits gained while conscious, and that scientific proposal hadn’t been determined trash or data just yet, despite it being the same ol’ same old.

That being said…

“What other opportunity would I have short of drugging him myself?” Shinra hummed; gathered vials and tools, bounced through his preparation. “Morally speaking it checks out if I didn’t administer the drug. After all, he came to me pre-doped! Haha."

He glanced over at Shizuo who somehow managed a cool guy pose upon the examination table, simultaneously a blathering mess — slurring incomprehensible words and half-baked thoughts. All to which seemed on par with what Shinra normally mocked, so it assured that no bad karma, nor bad blood would arise.

”…it was the least I could do,“ Shizuo concluded what had been internal dialogue.

Shinra focused on his assembly, "hmm~? I didn’t catch what you did."

"Drink.”

“Then that wasn’t the least you could do, right? That would’ve been not drinking, since doing nothing is the less than something active.”

Shizuo looked annoyed. “Meant I didn’t drink randomly, asshole. I did it ‘cause…” he spaced, pinched his nose. “…ugh, there’s a reason. Just…whatever.”

“That’s fine, Shizuo. Your oldest friend doesn’t need an excuse for your impromptu visit. Especially since you’re granting me the honour of—”

“Tom!” A heavy hand slammed on the table.

Shinra jumped — juggled a device, caught it by the tubular tail before it hit the floor.

“E-ehh?” his pulse refused to steady.

“Tom’s birthday. We went for drinks. 'Parently Vorona’s a heavyweight.”

Shinra laughed, kind of embarrassed for his friend. “I don’t think that’s actually the term you’re going for…"

"She cheated.”

“How so?”

“She’s Russian.”

“You’re honestly the type to play into stereotypes, Shizuo?”

He groaned, “she shoved vodka on me. 'Don’t handle it well.”

Of course, it’s some oddball connection, nothing offensive.

“And she knew that?”

“No.”

“So it was more that you couldn’t handle the defeat!”

The drunk grunted. “Ya wanna die?”

Shinra waved in mercy, “no no! Let’s just move on!!”

Though the more Shizuo spouted trash fragments, the more difficult it was for Shinra to sway his conscience that this was alright, as maybe the blood alcohol level was higher than he’d anticipated.

Every step of drawing blood was a joke to Shizuo. He laughed while his sleeve was rolled up, mocked the concentration Shinra wore while he struggled to stick the needle in; knocked the doctor’s glasses askew like a young brat that thought himself a slapstick comedian.

Unamused, Shinra adjusted his frames with a latex-free wrist. “Please stop.”

“I kinda felt bad. Told ‘im thirty was just a number,” he disrupted the blood-pull with a messy gesture.

“Shizuo, why are you so animated?!”

“He said he was twenty-seven! Whoops.”

“Yeah, you’re an idiot, we get it,” Shinra paused between a third attempt. “Probably, haha.”

It was then that he noticed how flush his patient was; how boyish his crinkled features were, and how Shizuo’s jovial nature was too foreign to be anything but drunkenness. Blurredly he watched the other above half-mast lenses, but a thought with prescription clarity hit him in result of the study — the vision of a perturbed Celty demanding that her held out PDA be read.

//It’s taking advantage of Shizuo!// //!!! N-n-not in that way, p-pervert!//

It wasn’t actually Celty’s textual wisdom, but his own beratement spoken through her beautiful voice, that of course he’d long ago created for her in place of having none to speak with. It was a flurried dissuasion he wouldn’t follow without her image affixed, whether in physical or mental form.

Thus Shinra was defeated by his own imagination.

“Come on,” he sighed, “I’ll set you up on the couch for the night."

“Oh…uh, sure.”

Shizuo stumbled off the table and stabilised when a hand supported his back to send him along the path to the living room. As Shinra motioned his follow, he spotted a rolled bandage that he’d previously readied.

His decade awaited experiment may have been a bust, but he had an idea that might give him a chuckle the next morning.

—

The recovering drunk studied a cross at the crook of his elbow. It screamed at his memory bank in vibrant fuchsia; with consternation Shizuo recognised the bandage as he recalled swaths of highschool peers wore them after donating blood; an annual fashion accessory that Shizuo never got to sport — only ever able to bling the trash cans with broken needles.

That indicated only one thing in the present: he’d been pin-pricked by an advantageous prick, and he was hardly impressed with how Shinra tagged him without any recollection.

"Oh! You’re up earlier than I thought you’d be,” the devil spoke at the doorway, audaciously donned his goofy grin, with a coffee mug in hand.

“Shinra…” he growled, “wanna explain this?”

“I’m curious to hear what you think it means! I wouldn’t be shocked if you’re either right or wrong.”

The silence grew stronger, Shizuo’s annoyance grew palpable, and for a split moment Shinra mused over the spontaneous prank.

Perhaps I got tipsy off the atmosphere last night and made my own drunken regret…

Which he externalised as a solo ‘eep!’, a wild scramble upon slippery slipper footing; an aerial trail of coffee in his wake.

To the carpet’s relief, the liquid was suspended mere inches above it, encapsulated in shadow. With luck, Celty formed it within a second’s notice as she was hastily passed by two scuttling idiots.

“I’m innocent! Innocent, I swear!”

“Like hell ya are!”

Celty puffed out air too exhausted for the early hours.

At least it’s spilt coffee and not blood spill.

—

It took a few laps around the apartment for the duo to wind up on opposite couches in a truce. Celty, their moderator, sat close at Shinra’s side to prevent a young death.

“You see, Shizuo, as you claimed you were in full control of your faculties, so I kindly decided to fulfill your request.” Shinra rubbed at a wallop injury at his crown. “which seemed a fair assumption since you weren’t acting any less intelligible than usual."

He was forced to squint while Celty futzed with the bent plastic and metal of his glasses.

“Lucky you, I’m perceptive enough to notice little details which proved that you were, in fact, inebriated. I stopped before I collected any samples.”

Whether or not Shizuo’s grunt was an invitation for the rest of the schpeel, or if it was an indignant ‘fuck off’ made no difference. “Feel free to leave a tip for my better judgement. I know it’s not customary for doctor visits, but I’m never too humble to decline monetary praise.”

A shadow placed glasses back on his nose, but he immediately let them slip back down when a glare across the table was in clear view. The hangover effect must of have worked mental lapses between Shizuo’s comprehension of insults, thus he remained in a slump with exhausted shadows below his cold eyes.

"Yanno, that better be the treatment you give Celty, or so help me…”

“A-ah, she can’t get inebriated in the first place, or drink for that matter—”

“So you’d take advantage of her if she could??”

“No, no! Never! If anything I want her to reveal her own desires to have me sweep her into fits of romance…” he darted his eyes from Shizuo’s disgust.

”…buuut I better let that topic be laid to rest.“

—

"Honestly…I almost wish he’d just done it.”

//Really?//

Shizuo nodded in between takes of smoke, “maybe it’s about time I figure out what makes me…me. You know, so I can control myself better…or something.”

//That’s a noble thing to do, Shizuo…//

He shook his head, wasted half of his cigarette when he extinguished it on the deck railing before he brushed ash into his hand.

//Maybe do it when you’re sober, though. That way you can feel good about the decision to better yourself and not have it be a drunken decision you accept.//

“You know,” he smiled, “I like that.”

It wasn’t odd that he agreed with Celty, it was that he wanted his abnormality to be experimented on by his dysfunctional friend; that he was finally ready to face the facts and learn how to work with his condition. Despite that realisation, it was best to ask Shinra with sobriety.

“Might make him pony up the cash for my blood, though. It’s a hot commodity, right?”

Celty chuckled with a bob of her shoulders.

—

“And that’s why I always trust my doctor’s instincts over Shizuo. In this case, causality didn’t result in my casualty and I can rest in peace standing six-feet above ground and not under it! Hmm…I should pay respects at the nearest shrine for good measure.

“At anyrate, I’ll take advantage of the opportunity to showcase Celty’s handiwork of my repaired glasses, a token of her dedication and love for all to appreciate! Even if they’re imperfect, they’re perfect to me. So let’s think of this as a public service announcement, kids: don’t drink and make hasty decisions!”

—

AN: Shinra breaking the fourth wall is one of my favourite things; it’s delightful. (O´▽`o)~♡

Based on one of the headcanons I wrote for Shizuo in a character meme, except it’s a little goofier than when I wrote the HC. Probably because I made it primarily from Shinra’s perspective. \(=~=)/ Thank you, @monopsys for the inspiration to actually write this!

#kishitani shinra #heiwajima shizuo #celty sturluson #shinra kishitani #shizuo heiwajima #durarara #durarara!!#drrr #drrr!!#durarara fanfic #durarara fanfiction #celty #fanfic #fanfiction #gen fanfic #celty durarara #durarara headcanons #demytasse fanfiction #demytasse fanfics

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docfuture · 7 years ago

Text

Deep Trouble

[Here is a side story, set just after Chapter 43 of The Maker’s Ark, my current serial in progress. The start is here, and links to my other work here. The next update is planned for the week of April 16th.]

"Oh, it's no trouble," said Ambassador Wilson. "This requires no travel or formality; just conversation on a subject I find fascinating and an opportunity to witness something memorable from a safe distance. The diplomatic details are already taken care of and were not my problem for once." He and Sam were watching a placid Caribbean beach scene on the big screen in the off-duty lounge of the HQ ship of the EDU. Sam was glad for his company. He would have insights into whatever was about to happen. "All right," said Sam. "Then have some popcorn and fill me in. DASI said this would be an illustration of geopolitics that I might find educational as the human spokesperson for the Universal Proxy Partnership. I've been in over my head with that from the beginning." He sipped his tea. "Less so than many others in positions of power. I think you've done quite well so far. You don't have any illusions that most people think like you, and you have a firm grasp of the vast gulfs of misunderstanding possible between otherwise reasonable parties." Wilson gestured at the screen. "What is your perspective on why that Cook fellow is on the island?" "Money," said Sam. "He arranged for a drone strike on Black Swan, in an attempt to intimidate people away from meeting her in person. The EDU authorized targeted sanctions, so Black Swan made it selectively difficult for him to conduct business and transfer money remotely, among other things. A lot of his liquid assets ended up stuck there, even though that wasn't what he had intended, because that's where many of his banks and shell companies are based. The transfers in worked, but the transfers out didn't, so he flew in to try to correct that. Now his plane is having electronics problems." "Indeed," said Wilson. "But that amounts to saying he's there because Black Swan wants him to be. Any guesses why?" "System administration was my original specialty, so I don't have much of a clue beyond 'politics'." Wilson finished chewing his popcorn before continuing. "That, along with some quirks of international law and old compromises--and a bit of geography." Sam studied the building visible at the edge the beach. It looked like a luxurious vacation home, of the sort rented by the rich to relax close to their money. "I am pretty sure it has something to do with it not being US territory," she said. "I know the Cayman Islands are popular as a tax haven and off-shore banking spot. You think Black Swan is about to send them a message?" Wilson took another sip of tea. "That possibility has no doubt been worrying Mr. Cook since his plane troubles started. And worrying the local authorities as well. If the Cayman Islands become perceived as a dangerous place to keep money, their economy will suffer greatly. Which means the diplomatic reaction to what is actually about to happen will be muted." "But what--wait." Sam had noticed something odd in the water. "DASI?" she said. "Yes?" replied DASI. "Can you zoom in on those things in the water, offshore and to the left of center?" The image shifted and enlarged, becoming grainier in the process. The two objects were round and about the size of large coconuts, floating about six feet apart They were difficult to make out clearly because of the glare from reflected sunlight. They twitched suddenly, in unison, then were still again, except for the gentle bobbing of the waves. Sam's heart lurched. "Oh. Hell." She looked over at Wilson, then back to the screen. "Those are eyes, aren't they?" "Yes," he said. "I rather think they are."

"They... aren't moving," said Sam. "They're just watching." "For the moment. We seem to be a bit early," said Wilson, "While we wait, can I ask how much you know about the Deep Kingdoms?" "More than most people, but not really all that much. I picked up a bit while working on Sealord's deep com links. He needs special vid displays because his eyes see differently, even when he's shifted into his land form." "Ah," said Wilson. "I thought Doc built those." "He did some earlier ones, but then one broke while he was busy with a crisis, so I took over maintenance and updates for a while. Sealord seemed to like them. He's not nearly as creepy in person as the media portrays him--you just have to think of him as a squid with a temporary human body, instead of a human with a squid head." "Quite so. I can attest to Sealord's proficiency at diplomacy; his negotiation skills and facility with human language do give him a great deal of influence, but he is more like a speaker for a very loose tribal coalition than a monarch. That shows in how he shaped the Tokyo Compromise. Are you familiar with the history behind it?" Sam frowned. "I know it's an agreement that's held for a long time, between the Deep Kingdoms and several human countries, but primarily Japan. It's the reason giant sea monsters regularly attack Tokyo, but rarely bother other cities. It's kind of unfair to Japan, because it was originally an attempt to settle a dispute about the harm large-scale fishing was causing in the Deep Kingdoms, and China is doing much more of that now. But customs have grown up around it that mostly keep anyone from getting killed, and everyone is afraid things would get worse if they try to change it now." "An excellent summary. That is the essential motivation for maintaining many otherwise flawed international agreements, by the way; preventing incidents from escalating, a subject dear to my heart. In any case, the Tokyo Compromise was never intended to be a long-term solution; it was a stopgap arranged by Sealord and the Volunteer to address the Deep Kingdoms' grievances and stop the majority of the coastal attacks pending a formal treaty. Sealord insisted on a mechanism for informal expressions of displeasure, because he was concerned that commercial fishing interests would block any permanent settlement. And he was right; it's been more than fifty years, and no treaty was ever signed." He sipped his tea. "But the Tokyo Compromise did not cover pollution. If an oil spill seriously affects an ocean food web, the Deep Kingdoms can and have successfully demanded compensation in international courts. The offenders usually operate either oil tankers or offshore drilling rigs, and are anxious to avoid any retaliation." Wilson waved his free hand at the screen. "Which brings us to Mr. Cook. He and his brother own a number of petrochemical concerns that are notorious for oil spills, often ones that reach the Gulf of Mexico. But they have used dubious pretexts for ignoring international court rulings. The Deep Kingdoms don't have prisons for land dwellers and fines haven't been effective, so the Cook brothers are among the handful of humans that have been formally sentenced to death there." Another sip of tea. "Here is an interesting fact about Grand Cayman. It's right on the edge of the Cayman Trench, which is the deepest part of the Caribbean. And part of the Deep Kingdoms. The seafloor a few miles south of Grand Cayman slopes downward quite steeply; in some places, it's almost like dropping off a cliff." He smiled. "Or swimming up one, if you happen to be going the other direction." Sam stared at the huge eyes, which had just blinked again. "Is that thing really going to--" "Watch." ***** There was no warning; one moment Sam was about to ask another question, and in the next the view had shifted and she was watching a large crocodile stride ashore in apparent slow motion. It was wearing some kind of harness--was that a backpack?--and small creatures that looked like humanoid frogs scuttled beside it. But why was it moving so slowly? Oh. It wasn't slow. It was huge. The lack of a scale reference had fooled her. It was moving faster than a human could run, and the frog creatures--which were almost as big as humans--were falling behind. "DASI. Can we get audio?" "Privacy block," replied DASI. "There are locals inside that are not covered by the privacy removal sanction. But I can summarize: An alarm has sounded and there is a mixture of unjustified bravado and pointless arguments about the lack of heavier weapons among the guards. Ineffectual gunfire has begun from one upper window." The mammoth crocodilian reached the house, and the great snout swung left and right, smashing open the entire seaward wall. "Bravado and argument have ceased," said DASI. "Screaming has begun." The crocodile was now halfway inside the house--Sam doubted that its entire body would fit--and the frog creatures had caught up and were beginning to enter. "There are numerous injuries, but no fatalities. Gunfire has ceased. Sobbing and prayers have begun. Screaming continues." "That's enough, DASI," said Sam. "We get the idea." She frowned. "No fatalities? That's surprising." Wilson smiled. "Not if you understand the purpose. They are being quite careful, in order to--Ah, here we go." The crocodile had reemerged from the wreckage of the house, apparently uninjured, and began plodding back towards the sea at a more leisurely pace. The frog creatures flanked it on both sides. There was no visible change except... "That's a cage!" said Sam, waving at what she'd thought was a backpack. It had a window, and a human figure was pounding on it from the inside. "Indeed," said Wilson. "What are they going to do with him? You said the Deep Kingdoms don't have prisons." "They don't. They'll transport him to the edge of Deep Kingdoms territory, and then probably eat him. That is the traditional method." "Then why go to all that trouble? Why not just eat him in the house?" Sam watched as the crocodile and its assistants reached the water and disappeared back the way they had come. The last glimpse of the cage showed the human still flailing at the window. "Because if they killed him there, it would be assassination and arguably an act of war. A line would be crossed. This way it is an abduction of a non-citizen criminal who was an obvious flight risk, after refusal of a formal extradition request. A representative for the Deep Kingdoms did file a request this morning, which was turned down. So there is quite a bit of precedent." "That's kind of disturbing." "Yes. It does, however, show respect for established practice." Wilson set down his cup and met her eyes. "I'm sure the Cayman Islands will file a diplomatic protest. But they definitely won't start a war. I imagine you can appreciate the distinction, these days." Sam thought about her own status as a potential assassination target. "Yeah. I can." Wilson smiled sympathetically. "Welcome to international politics. Tea?" "I... Yes, thank you," she said. The sunlight glinted as brightly as ever on the water, as the waves began to smooth the disturbed sand.

#Maker's Ark #FallofDocFuture #FallMisc

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dasozelotvonnebenan · 4 years ago

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*drops from your ceiling* 15, 17, 26, 34, and 35 please and thank you *scuttles away* - moonlit-grove

o.O a ninja with questions (cut because I like to give lots of examples and that makes for long posts)

15. A headcanon about a minor race, like Quaggan or Dredge.

I think there are more Jotun out there like Thrulnn the Lost. Jotun who have not forgotten their history and desparately try to collect what few knowledge of their people still exists.

17. With both rifles and bows exesting next to each other, what technology do rifles use? Flintlocks? Do they have magazines? Breach- or frontloaders?

Definitely something that takes a bit to load and isn’t terribly accurate at range. We see a lot of skins in game, and I think it’s mentioned in the Destiny’s Edge book, with an axeblade at the front of the barrel, indicating that a rifleman could expect to end up in melee fairly regularly.

26. How powerful is healing magic

With a mage that knows his craft well it stops a little short of regrowing limbs. Returning grossly mangled limbs to working order by fusing bones and tendons back together is definitely in the realm of possibility, though how comfortable that process is, the side effects and how the strength compares to it’s previous state hugely depends on the skill of the healer and the kind of magic they use.

Rangers with their nature magic will enhance the bodies natural healing abilities. Healing will still take some time, but it has the potential to leave the injured part even stronger than before. The injury does require attention though, as to prevent it from healing incorrectly.

An Elementalist may fuse bones back together, clean or cauterize wounds, extract poison from blood, but is dependent on the natural regeneration for most of the actual healing.

And well, a Necromancer might chop your leg off, wait for it to be dead, fix it and sew it back on. Works fine again but now it needs upkeep in form of lifeforce or it will start to rot away.

34. Four of the Elder Dragons have large Dragon Minions that we know of. Dragon’s Shadow, Claw of Jormag, Shatterer, Tequatl and it’s siblings. Are these corrupted version of dragons that once roamed Tyria or new creations from the minds of the Elder Dragons?

I actually think that it’s different for each of those dragons. The Shatterer is a unique creation of pure crystal by Kralkattorik, made to fill the position of Champion as Glint was freed from it. While Glint had agency and a mind of her own the Shatterer does not, as Kralkattorik didn’t want that to happen again.

Similar with the huge Icebrood Norn that are twisted into creatures that almost don’t resemble their former selves at all the Claws of Jormag are trusty servants of Jormag whose bodies have been drastically altered.

Tequatl and the other risen dragons were living Dragons ages ago buried deep below the surface of orr that turned undead with the rise of Zaithan. You can see that they are not thrown together from smaller corpses.

The Shadow of the Dragon is grown by Mordremoth from a memory of Zaithan he absorbed after his death.

35. Many of you have made up splinter civilisations. Asura that stayed underground, Sylvari from different Trees, Charr cultures outside of the Legions and so on. This is a chance to share.

I don’t have a made up splinter civilisation :( thank you for asking though

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credince--writes · 2 years ago

Text

Jitters (Remastered) Chapter 2: Knuckles

Chapter Two: Knuckles

Chapter 1

Jitters is a PMC brought onto the support 141 operations, much to the distaste of the 141 group of PMC's.

The Remastered version of the original Jitters.

A/N:

Oop, the second chapter is out now! etehehe, let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

She let out a breath that she didn't really recognize that she was holding.

Getting back in one piece.

Without much thanks to Miles.

It was time for a debrief of the mission, and afterward, the team would be released to something akin to a kindergartners recess.

Free time.

Mistakes kill people, after all.

Did he really just do that? This.

This...

This bastard.

She was never a fighter. And he knew that.

Smug prick.

After a few more closing statements, the meeting had ended and people began to quickly filter out of the room.

"Jitters." She heard Price call her name.

She felt her heart plummet at the sound of her name being called, stopping in her tracks and staring forward, as if her body refused to turn around and face Price.

Almost as if he was a school child, Miles pushed past her and mumbled a subtle "oooo, Someone's in trouble."

Like a pit of dread opening up in her gut, regretting even standing up and making the moves she did to stop the protocol from activating.

She should’ve just sat back and kept her mouth shut.

"Good work today. Enjoy your night." He smiles and then gives her a nod.

...

"Ahem." She cleared her throat- trying to speed the process along. She never stayed for these functions. She didn’t need to be here.

She wasn’t one of them.

She didn’t belong with them, and quite simply-

She wasn’t wanted here.

"I uh, I need the thing." She says, slightly unsure of herself and her presence in front of the group, who were now staring at her in silence.

"Thing?" Gaz echoed, his eyebrow arching in confusion.

"Yea." She lifted her arm, tapping her wrist twice. “You know, the thing.”

"You should come up with a better name for it, dontcha' think?" He mused, a friendly smirk gracing his features as he leaned back and crossed his arms. It was teasing.

It was friendly.

It was kind.

It was unfamiliar.

She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, her eyes immediately falling to the floor, and memorizing the texture of the cement beneath her feet. "Yea. I know. Don't remind me."

Jitters eye twitched.

It didn't belong in the fucking armory.

It was hers.

Miles had no reason- no authority to be picking up her shit.

Over here?

No.

Over there?

No…

Oh wait, he's over there.

He shoots her a confused glance. "What are you going on about now?" The mock innocence in his voice dripped with confidence as her jaw clenches once more, ear popping in the process.

Miles' eyes flicker down to his pocket, back over to her before he crosses his arms defensively and shifts his stance intentionally making himself taller as he leans forward.

But he doesn't.

"Are you calling me a liar?" Miles spits. "Don't forget I'm technically your superior. Now go on and fuck off."

There it was.

That stupid ‘authority’ he would always throw around even when he was dead wrong.

But he was always like this, this childish, infuriating, liability of a man.

Every time she would find her shit upturned, the duffel back that held her life upturned and all of its contents spread across the shitty little bed

The time her sleeping bag was full of garbage.

The constant shifting of blame.

"I'm sorry L.T. You know I'm not comfortable working around distractions, additional liabilities."

It was mainly because she was scared.

Scared of what would happen if Laswell decided she was too much of a pain in the ass to deal with.

Not worth the hassle.

But she was sick of it.

Laswell be damned.

The little device at a minimum, but in hopes of earning his respect.

Proving she belonged here just as much as he did, and that she wouldn’t be walked all over anymore.

"Give it back." She says again, her voice slightly cracking this time.

"Or what? You'll go cry to Gulch?" He mocks, the familiar tone of him curling his words up in mock concern. Leaning forward and pushing into her space in an attempt to get her to take a step back.

She could be just as mean.

She would be, if it meant proving this point.

That it would hurt when someone said it.

Which was perfect, seeing the open wound it was on his flesh- scabbed over and trying to heal.

And she just ripped the scab off.

Miles was silent.

And for the first time in a very long time, Jitters could confidently say she felt smug.

"Uppies are out!"

"We gonna have a pit?"

"Pit!"

"Money's on Inch!"

A man leaned down with a big grin plastered onto his face as he pulled out his wallet and threw some bills at his friend who was standing up and calling out a bet.

Another man nodded his head, waving bills around and calling in his bet. “Looks like the techs are gonna duke it out finally.”

The man next to Gaz chimes in. "We make a big circle and they beat the shit outta' each other until someone yields or the L.T. gets back. More or less.”

She couldn’t get into a fight.

Miles would win regardless.

It was a perfect plan.

She had only ever been around for one Pit, and it was a fistfight ending in blood splattered on the cement floor.

Bloodied knuckles.

She felt like a dog getting let loose into a dog fight- but she didn't want to fight. Miles started this.

She couldn’t fight.

A harsh exhale pushes out of her lungs as she hunches forward into the punch, arm gripping around his arm exclaiming one more poor attempt to stop- not follow through with this.

He knows what would happen if she got into a fight.

He knows to some extent why she is here.

He knows the rules.

He knows she can’t fight back.

“You wanted it so bad.” He says, laughing as he tosses it. “Pick it up then.”

The metal and plastic cover clatter against the ground, the sound of the metal tinking on one side then the hollow clatter of plastic against cement.

She can’t fight back.

She can take this.

She won’t go back.

But that isn't fun to watch. It's just watching their slightly overweight tech beat on a little girl. Her kneeling in front of him and taking it.

"Fight that fucker!" someone yells in the crowd.

And just like that, she's sucked back into her own head.

Blood was.

Kids surrounded her circling, yelling similar things.

To fight.

To entertain.

To perform.

But that's what Miles is, isn't it?

He's just a big bully.

She shouldn’t be doing this.

She couldn’t do this.

She’s going to get in trouble.

But just as she begins she starts to rethink her actions, she’s back in the schoolyard.

When their first connected with the side of her head, she felt her vision turn white- ears ring.

As if her head were a bell that’d just been rung- a grandmother on the porch calling children in for supper.

Her head snapped to the side, the woodchips mussing into her hair. The cheering and yelling merged together into some kind of deafening silence.

And she was hit again.

But it didn’t hurt anymore.

The connection of her fist against the bone of his chin felt like a dull throb against her hand- undoubtedly punching the wrong way.

But how was she supposed to know?

She never wanted to fight in the first place.

But it felt good.

The sticky warmth of blood against her hands in the cold morning air.

She wouldn’t get off of this kid until the teachers pried her off of their body.

Miles shifts his weight and rolls on top of her, pinning her down by her shoulder and lopping another punch down onto her face. It still doesn't feel like the sharp pain she assumed it would be like.

It's dull.

Like a thump.

The pillow hit her head.

The connection throws her head sideways.

And she was hit again.

But it didn’t hurt anymore.

She never had any proper training on how to fight, she was never supposed to be in combat.

Shit, she wasn't even supposed to be here.

But if fighting in the schoolyard taught her anything, it was how to fight dirty.

And she could fight dirty well.

"You're constantly in my way, and you get brought on here for no fucking reason." Miles hisses.

Her hand let out a cry of protest, but the demand was quickly filed away somewhere in the back of her head.

She hit him, again.

"Are you calling me a liar?" Miles spits. "Don't forget I'm technically your superior. Now go on and fuck off."

And again.

"Come on- you can't take a hit?" Jitters hisses out.

And again.

"You fuckin' pussy." She sneers, teeth bared, and raises her arm again. The muscles in her shoulder burn.

"I'm sorry L.T. You know I'm not comfortable working around distractions, additional liabilities."

And Again.

"I'm here because you fuck."

"Or what? You'll go cry to Gulch?" He mocks, the familiar tone of him curling his words up in mock concern.

And Again.

"Everything."

And Again.

"Up."

That she had taken it too far.

She loomed.

You’re weak.

She takes a rough step forward, pointing at him and yelling once more. "Get up pussy!"

He dropped.

Hard.

And he didn’t move.

"Get up!" She yelled again.

Maybe it was to spite her, or the blood pounding in her ears didn't hear the sound of the door opening, Gulch, and Price stepping into the scene before them.

A soldier stuffing bills of cash into his jacket, the sound of crinkling paper a dead giveaway to what he’d been doing- trying to not look as blatantly obvious as he was now.

Gulch could bring a room's temperature down ten degrees, it would seem. As soon as the hot breaths of the soldier's yelling ceased, the room fell into an uncomfortable, cold, silence.

"Clean this mess up." Gulch says calmly.

Too calmly.

The kind of calm that leaves prickles on the skin.

That makes hair raise on the backs of necks.

Jitters it heaving, trying to get as much oxygen into her lungs as possible, trying to make up for the difference, never seeming like it was enough as her eyes frantically scattered around the room.

"Don't get off of them until you're fuckin' pulled off."

That's what her dad used to say.

And if she was gonna listen to one thing,

it would've been that.

Lunging forward again, she gripped him by the shirt and swing her hand down.

Again.

And Again-

Until she felt a hand grip her upper arm and pull her backward, securing an arm around her torso and pulling her back.

It was Gaz.

"Hey. Calm down." He spoke calmly into her ear. "You're gonna have to calm down."

Almost as soon as she stopped swinging her arms she could feel the passage of her nose tighten up- her chest start to tighten and the feeling of hot tears rip their path across her face.

Setting her down, she shot Gaz a defeated glance and then met the gaze of Gulch. A cold hardened stare. One that said:

'my office.'

'Now.'

Great, now she was going to get chewed out by two men.

Great, she’d done exactly what Miles wanted.

She was going to get sent back- they were going to call her-

Once the two men settled, all that could be heard in the room were the sniffles and chokes radiating off of Jitters.

"Stop crying." Gulch said.

"C-Can't." She choked out, trying to calm her breathing. The feeling of her sobs against her bleeding nose made it hurt even more- not helping to calm her down in the least.

"Figure it out. I'm not talking to you until you can be an adult." He replied, leaning back in his chair and staring her down.

And he did wait. Five grueling, silent minutes of Jitters pulling herself together.

Five minutes of death spiraling in her head about what was going to happen.

Wincing from the pinch of her fingers against her nose and the tremor in her hands.

Wiping the tears from her face and wincing at the pain.

Gulch nodded.

"That was unacceptable."

She nodded.

"Irresponsible."

"Disappointing."

Ouch, that one hurt.

"But I can't say I blame you." His voice softened slightly.

Her shoulders shrunk forward...

"You're gonna tell Laswell."

Something in Gulch's eyes softened.

Pity.

Hidden behind a hardened layer, it was clear as day.

"Yes." He stated.

"And I'm gonna get sent back." She choked out.

"Yes." He agreed, Gulch’s stare tainted with the haze of pity. It didn’t fit him, and it made her stomach churn at the look of it on his face.

"Unless." Price says, breaking his silence. His face was unreadable. She couldn't see past his wall, wasn't familiar enough.

It was like a thick fogged layer of glass.

But it was dark inside, and she couldn't even make out the shapes or colors.

"Unless." Gulch agrees, nodding his head and gripping a manila folder on the side of the desk, sliding it across the top and in front of him.

Her eyes look up, a strand of hope dangled in front of her, looking back and forth from Price to Gulch.

She stared at him in a dumbfounded awe.

"And I'll watch you back." Price concluded.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

Taglist (Please let me know if you wanna be added or removed, this has the old jitters taglist on it as well): @averyyreads @jxvipike @evelyn-summers @yeessssirrrr @thychuvaluswife @tapioca-marzipan @amatchasky @wasteland-babe @chibijusstuff @mydogeatscoffeecups @idkhowbutyeah @justherebecausesafarisucks @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @potatos-on-clouds @orbitingjupiter0 @smoggyfogbottom @vonev @lilackat @devilsfoodcake22 @kat247 @devstinyy @fatherfigured @lazy-kari202 @grabmyskeletits @theunknownartistsworld

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