#Mention of blood

[flowery-laser-blasts]

The number one team in the Afterlife!

Zombified KimRon based on a brainstorming session with @creatorping uwu

[sinkovia]

Polaroids

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Angst, mention of suicide, mention of death.

Underneath the winter sky, the world transformed into a pristine landscape of snow-covered fields and frost-kissed trees. You and Simon found yourselves amidst this winter wonderland, bundled up against the chill, ready to capture a moment frozen in time.

With the camera in your hand, you pulled Simon close, wrapping your arm around him as you both huddled together for a picture. There was anticipation in the air as you counted down. "Three!" you exclaimed, and just as the flash burst into life, Simon seized the opportunity. A mischievous grin played on his lips as he swiftly smashed a snowball onto your head right at the moment the picture was taken.

"Simon!" a mix of laughter and surprise in your voice. Your hair was dusted with snow, and you looked at him with mock indignation, but the gleam in your eyes hinted at joy. Simon, with a mischievous grin, reveled in the success of his snow assault.

The snowball ambush marked the beginning of a delightful chaos. Laughter echoed through the winter air as you both dodged, ducked, and retaliated with fluffy ammunition. The pristine landscape transformed into a battleground, each throw leaving its mark on the snowy canvas.

As you dodged and weaved, Simon's infectious laughter filled the air, his playful spirit contagious. Eventually, he closed the distance between you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. You felt a mischievous glint in his eyes, and before you could react, he playfully brought you down into the soft snow. The cold powder cushioned the fall, and you found yourself rolling together, laughter bubbling up between you.

In the midst of the snowy tussle, the world around you blurred into a playful dance of white. The winter air was filled with the sounds of your laughter and the soft crunch of snow.

Eventually, the playful roll came to a gentle stop, leaving you on top of Simon. Amidst the falling glistening snowflakes, you looked into each other's eyes, the two of you catching your breath between fits of laughter.

As your laughter gradually faded into a contented quiet, you leaned down, your smile lingering, and pressed your lips to his in a soft kiss. The softness of the snow beneath you mirrored the tenderness of the stolen moment, and the world seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you in your snowy sanctuary.

In the midst of this tender exchange, a soft click resonated. You turned your gaze to the right, where Simon held up the camera, capturing another candid moment, immortalizing the post-snowball fight kiss.

Taking the polaroid, you began to huff warm air onto it, warding off the haziness that the cold weather threatened to impose. Squinting at the image, a frown creased your features.

"What's wrong, love?"

"My face is all hazy, damn cold weather."

"Let me see." you turned the photo over so he could examine it with squinted eyes.

"Hmm, only a little, but why would I look at a picture when I'll always have you next to me?" Shaking your head, you kissed him again. "For memories, Si."

Those words echoed in Simon's mind as he held the Polaroid in his hand, sitting alone on a bench. The serene snowy landscape looked dull and gray without you. It had been a year since you passed, your life cut short by a drunk driver hitting the passenger side of the car. The memory of that tragic day haunted him, and the Polaroid served as a bittersweet reminder of the love and laughter that once filled his life.

In the quiet solitude, Simon vividly recalled the moment he turned to look at you in the passenger seat. Laughter filled the car as you both shared a moment over an awful joke. He just wanted another glimpse of you laughing, savoring the way you closed your eyes and held a hand to your stomach in pure joy. Your radiant smile, the tears in your eyes—he longed to see your radiance, a sight he had always cherished.

Then came the headlights on the other side of the passenger window. Panic set in, and Simon tried to react, to steer away, anything to shield you from the impending danger. But it was too late. The impact sent the car flipping several times before landing upright. Simon, initially dazed, was jolted into awareness by the sound of your labored attempts to breathe, a shard of glass embedded on the left side of your neck.

You turned to look at him, tears streaming down your face. Pure desperation filled his gaze as he swiftly unbuckled his seatbelt, reaching over to hold your neck in an attempt to stop the blood spurting from your neck.

"S…si…" Your eyes conveyed agony as your choked attempts at breathing became more shallow.

"Shh, sweetheart, it's okay baby. You're gonna be okay, I promise." He spoke with a tremor in his voice, desperately denying the gravity of the situation when your hand fell limp from your neck, landing in your lap. He reassured himself that you were still alive.

"Help is coming, baby, I promise. Just hang in there, okay? For me, can you do that for me, baby?" His words were a desperate plea, and when he heard you stop trying to breathe, he continued to deny the reality, reassuring himself that you were still alive.

"Just breathe slow, sweetheart. Please, just breathe, baby. Please just—" When your head slumped against his shoulder, he felt his hands begin to shake, a lump forming in his throat that made it hard for him to speak.

"Y/n, baby, I need you to lift… I need you to lift your head up, baby. I can't… I can't." He choked out a sob as his hands slowly moved away from your neck. He started heaving in breaths as he threw open the driver door and collapsed on the ground. His chest tightened, and his heart raced a million miles per hour. He couldn't bear to see your lifeless body. He clawed at his chest as a sharp pain tore through.

He was having a heart attack.

The paramedics arrived just in time to tend to Simon, nearly saving his life, a fact he later cursed them for. Why couldn't they just let him follow you into the afterlife?

Staring at the two Polaroids in his hand, he longed to go back to that day. Back to a time when everything that reminded him of you didn't cause insurmountable pain, a time when he still felt warmth—a time when you were still alive.

Despite the accident not being his fault, Simon carried the burden of self-blame, haunted by the regret of not noticing the oncoming car. The echoes of that fateful day lingered, casting a shadow over the stark winter scene surrounding him. Rising from the bench, he walked back to the house you once shared—a place you had made a home.

In the hallway, he stopped and looked at the framed photo of both of you, taken on your first date. You insisted on framing it, and he softly smiled, almost hearing your voice echo through the walls of the house.

He continued walking until he reached the edge of the bed, where he sat down and pulled out his phone, dialing 911.

"911, what's your emergency?"

“I heard gunshots at my neighbor's house, the address is 1311 Amberville Rd,” he reported stoically before hanging up and reaching for the metal box under his side of the bed. Slowly opening it, he revealed a pistol.

He tried his best to carry on, to honor the memories you had together, to keep you alive through the love in his heart. However, the weight of living without you became unbearable. Tired of waking up each day without you by his side, exhausted from the relentless nightmares that plagued him.

He was simply tired of experiencing life without you.

He took the gun from the box, raising it to his temple. Without hesitating he pulled the trigger.

His eyes flew open, and he quickly sat up in bed, confusion clouding his gaze as he realized it looked just like your shared home. The surroundings appeared brighter, more vivid than before. Slowly getting up, he walked through the hallway, glancing at the framed picture on the wall before searching the entire house, only to find it empty. Opening the front door, he stepped outside, the soft crunch of snow under his shoes echoing with each step. The snow seemed to stretch out for miles, and trees covered in a thin layer of snow surrounded the yard.

Furrowing his brows at the unfamiliar scene, he noticed it was odd—they never had trees in their front yard. He remembered your dream of having big oak and willow trees. He smiled when he remembered the small pout you made when he told you that trees take years to grow full size.

Suddenly, a snowball crashed onto the side of his head. He heard your laughter and turned wide-eyed to see you running up, tackling him to the soft snowy ground. Rolling with you until he stopped, you ended up on top of him. He looked up at you in disbelief, tears welling in his eyes. Cupping your face with shaky hands, he questioned if it was too good to be true. Was he dreaming again? No, this felt too real. You felt too real.

“Y/n?” You smiled and gently pressed your lips to his.

“You came too early, Si.” He shook his head, his eyes bouncing all over your features. “I didn't come soon enough. I'm sorry I kept you waiting, love.” You smiled as you gazed down at him, your heart swelling. He combed his fingers through your hair.

“I missed you so much, sweetheart.” You nestled your head in the crook of his neck. He took in a deep breath, your scent filling him with warmth. “I missed you too, Si.”

[kelnexia]

I think it would make sense for iterators to have blood since they’re partially biological.

But what color would they bleed?

One would likely default to assuming it to be red as it’s the most common color for blood…

But my observations on the rot have brought up a likely case for it to be blue instead. As you can see in the comparison between Hunter’s rot and Pebbles’ rot – the rot appears to mimic the colors of it’s host’s flesh and blood.

But perhaps not…

As there’s also these things that clearly have a red tint to them. Which implies the presence of red blood.

Perhaps iterators do have red blood, and the rot only gets it’s black and blue coloration from being a mutation of the neuron flies…

As you can see in Moon’s reactivation – the neuron flies are black when inactive – which would explain the black body…

And the blue accents could come from their glow which often shifts to dark blue.

So there’s two options here – both are good options. So I would like to know what others think is the best and mostly likely one.

[tumbling-through-deepspace]

She didn't have an episode like this in years; the erratic flaring of her Evol or the ringing of her ears that caused blood to trickle out of them.

There was a sensation like prickling needles under her skin that felt so familiar. She hated it and wanted relief.

What triggered her episode? Oh, that mission that should not have been assigned to her. The Association knew enough details about her past to have prompted the relevant department to have sent that assignment to someone else.

Years of paranoia and instinct are telling her this was deliberate, but why... why now?

She was on the verge of unconsciousness; a flash of blue and red was the last thing she saw before passing out.

[loop-hole-319]

The Way He Fell

When Damian cut Tim's line he wasn't able to save himself.

Inspired by every time I read a fic where Damian cuts Tim's line and I have to go watch the gymnastics scene death from Final Destination.

Every... single... time

"Red Robin. Come in Red Robin."

Barbara had been trying to contact Tim for the last 45. About an hour ago, everyone had finished their patrols and returned to the Batcave. Everyone except Tim that is, who had left Robin to make his way back to the cave by himself. Damian seemed pretty upset about it too. He hadn't said a word since he got back and was kind of zoned out.

So forgive her for sounding a little harsh but she was exhausted and the two bird's petty bickering was driving everyone up the wall. She was really banking on Bruce making them patrol together tonight, would force them to bond. But here she was up an hour later than she planned because someone didn't want to even try to be a good big brother.

Finally she heard the soft crackling of Tim's com channel open.

"RED! Where the hell have you been! I've been trying to contact you for almost an hour! And you ditched Robin! How could you be so irresponsible!" She shouted into the mic.

"I know you two don't get along but you can't just leave him to fend for himself! You were supposed to watch him! Show him the ropes!" She sighed disappointably putting her hand up to her forehead

"I'm sorry" A voice that was discernibly not Tim's spoke from the other end of the line.

"Hello?" She questioned

"I'm sorry" The person was crying and sounded out of breath.

"Sir, are you okay? Why do you have Red Robin's com link?"

"I swear I didn't do it. I was just taking out the garbage." He whispered into the com his voice wobbly from crying.

"Sir, is Red Robin with you?"

The man on the line paused. Something was wrong.

"Yes"

"Sir can you please the com link to Red Robin." Barbara kept her voice steady, trying to ignore the cold pit forming at the bottom of her stomach.

"No" She tensed.

"Sir why can't you give the com link to Red Robin?"

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm -"

For a moment there was only soft choked sobs from the other side of the line, then heavy breathing of trying to get themselves under control. Her entire body was tense, there was something very, very wrong.

"Sir?"

"He's dead."

Ice shot through Barbara's veins

"What?"

"He's DEAD!" The man practically screamed into the mic.

She pulled up Tim's location and sure enough, he hadn't moved from that alley for an hour.

Babs had called Jason at ass o'clock in the morning, gave him some coordinates and told him to go check on replacement. Under normal circumstances he would have bitched and whined at her for waking him up. But something in her voice, maybe it was the poorly hidden fear in her voice that got his ass moving. She had called him because he was the closest and they needed someone at the scene while she woke the others.He only got the alert that Dickwing and Bruce were on their way when he rounded the corner heading into the alleyway.

A young man who couldn't have been more than 25 was sitting up against the wall resting his forehead on his knees. He barely makes out a soft sniff from the guy when he detected the faint stent of blood. Hood bent down, resting a kneepad on the wet street to get closer to the guy. "Hey buddy. You okay?" The kid shot his head up and stared at him, tears still flowing down his face from whenever he had contacted Babs.

How the hell did he contact Babs?

The kid squeezed his legs and looked away. " I'm sorry."

Jason took a moment to take a calming breath. "What are you sorry for kid?"

"He fell."

"Who fell?"

The kid stared straight ahead at the other alley wall for a second, before slowly lifting his left arm and pointing deeper into the alley.

There was a massive puddle of blood and sitting in the center was a familiar cape covering something. Ice flooded Jason's veins at the site of the black fabric. It was a very familiar cape sitting there surrounded by a puddle of blood. Jason up and closed his eyes forcibly pushing down the oncoming panic to allow himself to deal with the civilian.

" All right buddy." He pulled the kid up to his feet and patted him on the shoulder. "Thank you for telling Oracle, you should probably get out of here. You don't want to be here when the rest of the bats show up."

"So here's what you're going to do. You're going to go home and you're not going to tell anybody about this. You were never here, got it?"

The kid stared at him blankly for a second before slowly nodding his head and stepping back out of his grip. Normally he would walk such a shaken up civilian home, but not tonight. Tonight another Robin may have fallen.

He stood over the lump of fabric and lifted the cape. Tim's torso had been folded in half. His spine jutted out for his stomach having torn through his organs and flesh. Shards of his ribs were piercing out his sides and back. Tim lay lifelessly on the floor in front of him folded in half in a grotesque mockery of Dick's acrobatics.

Jason forced himself in a dissociative state as he reached for his com and spoke out the words he promised himself he'd never hear.

"A Fledging has fallen."

If Tim survived this, he was going to blame it on the shock. Not the shock of yet another of his 'brothers' attempted murderers. No, that had become expectation at this point. If anything, he was shocked at how sudden it was and how blatant this attempt was. Although based on the velocity and angle at which he was headed towards the concrete floor of an alley, he was not entirely confident that he could label this an attempt.

He had managed to grab on to a rusted pole that jutted out from the side of the building. It did little to slow his momentum only succeeding at rotating him mid-fall and tossing him further into the alley. He was sure he could have made it if the bar had not snapped at the height of his swing. If he wasn't going to land upside down. If he wasn't going so fast. If damien had not cut his line.

Wind brushed against his face, but this time it wasn't the soft. It didn't feel freeing like flying on a grapple. More like the wind was biting at his face. He never liked doing acrobatics, the thought of Dicks fancy flips had always scared him. Especially now as he's somersaulted through the air hurdling towards the concrete below him while upside down.

His manubrium took the brunt of the force. He could hear the crunch of his ribs as the force of impact slammed his sternum into the ground. Horrific pain shot through his side and chest. He was certain that his entire rib cage had just been crushed. His lungs were most definitely punctured.

His hips, unfortunately still had momentum and were coming down hard. With a sickening crunch his lumbar had been folded in half definitely breaking through the skin of his stomach. His knees slotted over his shoulders and his heels slammed down on either side of his head. Not that he could feel their impact on the cement. He couldn't feel anything from the waist down.

The sound of his spine snapping echoed off the empty alley walls. A horrible gargling sound came from his throat as his lungs automatically stretched open. Trying to pull an oxygen but only taking in blood, creating a horrible gurgling sound.

He could see his fingers twitching from muscle spasms behind his foot. He could feel his blood seeping through his lips and pooling on the ground and the only thing he could do was stare straight ahead. His brain couldn't even send the signal to his eyes to begin crying.

A hot numbness seeped out from the burning sensation at the core of his chest. He couldn't move, most likely paralyzed. Frozen still, forced to watch the pool of blood beneath him grow in size.

He couldn't tell where it was coming from. Although he predicted that a portion of his spine as well as his ribs were jutting out from his back and sides. His throat began to tighten and his lungs burned as they could do nothing but become saturated in his blood and his vision fade to black.

[fantasyismyonlyrealescape]

Whumptober 2024: No. 7 - "It's Us or Them"

Title: Through Blood There Are Choices

Characters: Kevin Owens & Sami Zayn (Zowens)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 601

A/N: Welcome to the final addition to week one of Whumptober. Cheers!

Summary: Kevin Owens gives Sami Zayn a beating... and a choice.

Cross posted on AO3 under user wrestlinginjeans.

The crowd is thunderous as Kevin Owens powerbombs Sami Zayn onto the ring apron again and again. For the most part, the crowd is shouting their disapproval at Kevin’s treatment of Sami, but what did they know? They hadn’t been through what Kevin had these past few months; they hadn’t been inside Kevin’s head. Sami, already bleeding from his jawline from an earlier punch, drops to the floor as Kevin launches him into the apron one final time. His friend, his brother and partner, reduced to a crumpled mess at his feet.

Kevin Owens takes a moment to glance up and scan the crowd before turning his head towards the curtain, not wanting any surprises in the form of the Bloodline to jump him while he finished this. The only thing he can hear is the rush of blood and adrenaline in his ears as he crouches down next to his former partner. Kevin brushes his hand over the bright red lines across Sami’s spine from where his body had made contact with the apron by his hand time and again, pressing his fingertips hard onto the already tender skin. Sami, in the semi-conscious pain induced state that he was in, bucked wildly as he fought to escape the rough hand. Kevin was quicker though, using his other hand to grab Sami’s upper arm and forcing him to remain where he was. Sami’s eyes, glazed over from the pain, dart to Kevin’s own. As grey eyes meet hazel, a silent plea in the hazel asking for this to end, asking when this would finally be over, and he could no longer be in pain. Kevin saw no fight in those eyes, not anymore. Just another thing the Bloodline had taken from him. Or had it been him? He couldn’t be sure anymore.

Kevin, taking his hand off of Sami’s abused back, leaned in close to Sami’s ear as hazel orbs track his every movement.

“It’s us or them, Sami. Take your pick.”

Sami, his eyes darkening slightly as Kevin reveals the reasoning behind all this, the reason for why Sami was in this much pain. Sami suddenly wants to pound his fists onto Kevin’s body until his knuckles bled through his wraps. He wants to scream at Kevin, telling him that what he was doing to him now was exactly why Sami was leaving him behind in the first place. Kevin said that the Bloodline didn’t care about Sami, that they were just using him. What was Kevin doing now? Kevin said that the Bloodline would manipulate Sami, beat him into submission and shape him into somebody else entirely. Sami knew what manipulation was, he had been dealing with it for years from the man in front of him now. But, while he wanted to scream all of this until his throat was raw, he couldn’t bring himself to. Between the pain, the weakness that was induced by the pain and Sami’s sudden reversion for Kevin after the beating he had inflicted upon the redhead, Sami picked his words carefully.

“It’s not a choice, Kev.” Sami manages to say through gritted teeth, his words dripping with venom. “At one point, I would have chosen you.” Sami growls, lifting his head ever so slightly so that their noses were inches from touching each other, as he fights against the red-hot pain shooting up his neck at the motion. “But I know what you are capable of. I’ve known for years, and you’ve proved it again here…” Sami scoffs, his breath coming out in pained gasps. “You will never be my choice again.”

[leventart-den]

Ch.02 of Interactive ZoSan fanfic.

AN:

Hi guys! Did I say I'll do 1k word chapters? I lied. This one is almost 5,500 words. Please be careful and look at the tags.

Beta-readed by wonderful @dad-cahoon ! Thank you so much for your help! AO3 link. I hope you will be satisfied with your choice. Without further ado, let's continue.

***

-= My 4am Sun =-

Ch.02 “Good intentions and Nothing's wrong”

Sanji turned off the tap, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and feeling a dry cough creeping up his throat. What the hell is going on with him? All these symptoms are all over the place and do not add up to a single picture at all. If he had been injured or poisoned or something like that, at least he would have felt something specific. But this... this is getting weirder and weirder. At least his modified body has time to react and tries to fix the problem. If you think about it... perhaps that is precisely the reason why he continues to function even when his consciousness turns off. Sanji isn't sure if this is good or bad, though. Not having control over his actions worries him, of course. But at least it's not someone controlling him, it's his own reflexes and knowledge and so he trusts himself not to cause trouble to others. At least he really wants to think so. 

Sanji coughs, feeling the familiar metallic taste on his tongue and hearing the door to the kitchen open, so he hastily wipes his lips with his sleeve just in case. His shirt is dark today, nothing will be visible on it. He doesn’t turn around yet, but he hears the familiar sound of footsteps and the subtle chime of metal on metal. He knows it too well. 

He knows even before he hears the annoying…

"Oi, cook! Luffy is ready to start chewing his own leg. When's the food?" It's rough and a little too loud for the isolated silence of his kitchen a moment ago. Yes, that's him. Idiot mosshead. 

Sanji swallows and exhales, turning to the intruder, ready to snap back. He knows the drill. But at the last moment he changes his mind. He doesn't feel like starting to argue now. He feels too exhausted. 

"Tell everyone they can pull up in five minutes." His answer is short and dry as his throat is now, but he doesn’t care. Sanji walks past Zoro, taking plates out of the cabinet and getting ready to set the table. The other is silent. He doesn't go anywhere. Sanji placed the plates on the table and began arranging the cutlery. 

Zoro was still there, somewhere behind him. 

Staring. 

Unnerving.

But Sanji doesn't lash out this time as usual. All he wants is to finish breakfast and be left alone with himself to try to understand what is happening to him. If Marimo wants to hang around here and watch, well, fine, he will finish the preparations and call everyone himself, not such a big deal.

Or so he thought.

Sanji went to get larger plates to put the food into when the silence was broken again.

“Oi, shitty cook! What...” The hand accompanying the voice grabbed him by the elbow, stopping him halfway, but Sanji didn’t let him finish. He suddenly felt a pain under his skin, as if in another second his bone would break. He pulled his hand out in panic, stepping back, but realizing what he was doing, he hurried to cover his own fear by biting in response.

"What, Marimo? What the hell do you want? You asked when the food will be ready - I answered. Now sit down and wait in silence or go get fucking lost!" He found himself almost screaming at the end. He was out of breath. It was nothing new for them to argue like this. But for some reason this time it felt wrong and Sanji regretted giving in. From the moment the battle ended and he found himself “losing time” and this strange state of his, everything seemed too much. It overwhelmed him, confused him, preventing him from thinking clearly. He desperately wanted to hide somewhere in a corner away from everything and everyone and be able to breathe out and process everything. 

But at the same time, now that he thought about it, he felt guilty that he wanted to be away from the others. They were his nakama, his family. How dare he think about them like that? 

Ungrateful. 

Useless. 

Weak. 

As always.

He felt a mocking laugh escape his throat, choking him for a second.

"What the hell is wrong with you, cook..."

Sanji heard the other's voice cut through the beginning ringing in his ears like a hot knife through butter. It snapped him out of his thoughts and for the first time Sanji was grateful for it.

Regardless, he grimaced, still annoyed, and went back to setting the table.

"Nothing's wrong, shithead." he snapped in his usual manner, although a little too hoarsely. He clenched his teeth, swallowing hard against another cough.

He didn't see Zoro watching him intently; otherwise he would have noticed the gloomy concern so unusual for the one-eyed swordsman.

.

There was something strange about the cook, Zoro noticed it during the battle. As a warrior, he was used to keeping an eye on his surroundings and those around him, and after so many years of fighting with and against the cook, he unwittingly learned enough to notice when something was off. And now, as the first mate in this crew, Zoro is obliged to figure out what the problem is and take care of eliminating it in order to avoid further possible troubles. It was just that, nothing else, he told himself.

Well… More like he reminded himself if he was completely frank. Because despite the fact that they had never been close friends, Zoro increasingly caught himself thinking that he was too used to the shitty cook and their constant bickering and fighting. And he missed it when he was away. And now, when there is even the slightest shift in their routine, he notices it and wants to immediately fix it, to make it as it was before. He doesn't want any changes when it comes to Curls.

He does not want.

And so he will watch. And if he doesn’t admit what’s going on, he knows him well enough to know what points to press. Despite the fact that Zoro is not the type of person who would manipulate and deceive, in this situation he is ready to resort to it. It's for the cook's own good, after all.

So now Zoro opened his mouth to demand an answer, but approaching voices and the opening of the kitchen door, followed by a demand for food from their captain, stopped him. Zoro sighed, heading to the table - it looked like the conversation would have to be postponed.

.

Sanji breathed a sigh of relief when the kitchen door opened and Luffy burst inside from the threshold, stretching out his raking hands to the food that the cook had not even managed to put on the table yet. He had felt the shift in energy from the swordsman earlier and was sure that he was going to try to ask him a question again, so the distraction was very welcome. Sanji wasn't sure how it would have ended if that interrogation had continued. Right now, though, everything has slowly returned to normal with noisy pirates in the kitchen and a table laden with food. It seems that everyone has already recovered a little from the night battle and regained their former bright mood.

Sanji still felt the unnerving crawl under his skin and only hoped that breakfast would pass without incident. He served and smiled as always, showering compliments on the girls and barely having time to knock on the captain’s hands so that he wouldn’t steal food from other people’s plates. 

God, he loved this so much. He did not realize that in this short time he had missed such a carefree routine. Everything else seemed like a bad dream now. Unfortunately for him though, good things don't last.

He almost tripped when his heart painfully skipped several beats and rushed forward simultaneously with a sickening sensation somewhere in his guts. It’s good that at that moment he was busy on the side preparing dessert and his hesitation would not be noticeable. Sanji bit his tongue, forcing himself to concentrate on what he was doing. "Not now. Not now." He thought angrily to himself. Oh he was angry. This is good. Anger is better than fear. He can work with it.

He put the desserts aside, about to return to the table to check if anyone needed anything, when the shitty swordsman spoke again and Sanji felt like throwing up.

.

Zoro ate, not really paying attention to the conversations of others and what was happening around him. It bugged him, but his thoughts kept returning to the night's battle and the cook. He can't say when things changed, but he remembers the moment he noticed the other wasn't moving and called out. He didn't get an answer, but Curly got back into motion, throwing kicks and taking down one opponent after another. He was efficient and precise in his attacks and Zoro remembered that, for some reason, that made him nervous. It looked too off. Too lifeless. Not like his usual cook. 

Their, he meant, their cook.

And now, watching him, he clearly saw strange signs. A barely noticeable pallor, a sheen of sweat above his brow and hair that curled and stuck to his neck. He could see the tense shoulders and the overly heaving chest under his clothes as he took deep, careful breaths from time to time. Was the stupid cook injured? He didn't look like it when the battle was over. Zoro probably should tell Chopper, but then again that would have been hypocritical on his part. At the end of the day, Dartbrow is a grown ass man and can take care of himself. And if he himself doesn’t turn to Chopper, it means nothing serious. Right?

Right. But knowing his pride and stubbornness, the cook, just like Zoro himself, will walk around with a wound until he passes out. Hell, why is this suddenly bothering him so much? Shitty shittcook. If he doesn't want to tell Zoro what's wrong, then he knows what strings to pull. After all, he never backs down from a challenge. They both don't.

And so he lowers his chopsticks and places a smirk on his lips, raising his voice.

"Oi, cook! Why don't you eat anything? Or is your shitty food so shitty that it makes you sick?" Zoro knew that he was deliberately provoking the cook in order to force him to take care of himself and finally sit down and eat. But the second those words left his mouth, he regretted them. The conversations at the table faltered for a second and Nami gave him a look that he didn't quite understand, but suspected that it was hiding condemnation. Although no one commented on anything, returning to previous conversations, that second of awkwardness in the atmosphere was enough for Zoro to understand that he had gone too far. Everyone loved Sanji's cooking and even Zoro stopped using the topic as a reason to fight over the years. So now it really did sound overly rude.

Zoro felt angry at himself and at the cook for making him look like an idiot. Although he forgot about it the second he saw how pale the curl had become. He looked sick. But despite this, he did not argue, but defiantly took the plate, placed it firmly on the table, sat down and began to eat. His whole demeanor screamed "Here you go, you shitty Marimo! My food is great!"

Yep, never backs down from a challenge. Zoro felt himself grinning. It was like everything was okay. 

Except that it wasn't. And the cook's strengthened grip on the fork to stop the shaking of his hand spoke volumes. 

It sent a pang somewhere inside Zoro and he didn't like it. He didn't understand this feeling, so he didn't like it.

This has to stop. 

Zoro will need to talk to him after breakfast, since no one else noticed anything.

It's strange how Zoro can go days without thinking about Curly at all, but once something like this happens, he can't seem to think about anything else. And this is a distraction that he wants to get rid of.

He caught Robin's knowing glance at him and frowned. It made him nervous. Zoro quickly returned to his food. Which, by the way, was delicious as always, but for some reason he didn’t feel like eating anymore.

.

Sanji's guts twisted at the mere thought of eating. By this moment, he already clearly knew that something was seriously wrong with his body. It felt as if something was constantly torn and broken in him, and now, for the first time ever, he was glad of his Germa modifications, thanks to which his body was able to regenerate at inhuman speed. He probably would have been dead by now if not for that. 

And of course, right now stupid Marimo had to insult his food so of course he couldn't help but accept the challenge. So he sat down and began to eat, feeling each bite scratch his parched throat and taste like ash. The food threatened to rise back up, but Sanji stubbornly continued to eat until his plate was empty. He caught Zoro's eye and flipped him the bird. By this point everyone had finished their main meal and Sanji stood up for dessert, breathing through his nose and trying not to stagger. He felt hot and cold at the same time and just hoped that he didn't look as bad as he felt. It was a blessing that his team, as always, was engrossed in conversation and did not pay attention to him.

When breakfast finally came to an end and Sanji began unloading the dishes into the sink, he glanced in Zoro's direction, seeing him rise from the table, looking at him with the clear intention of approaching him. Sanji felt his heart nervously speed up, pushing the breakfast he had just eaten closer to his throat. But thank all the gods, the swordsman was stopped by Franky, who declared that he needed another pair of strong hands in some new project and dragged him away from the kitchen. Zoro didn't protest and Sanji hoped that he would forget about him while he was busy. Stupid Marimo suddenly became annoyingly persistent and Sanji had absolutely no idea why. Did he suddenly start caring about the cook? No. Definitely not. He must have just gotten bored, as often happens, and wanted a fight. Well, unfortunately for him, Sanji had no time for that now and Zoro will have to find other fun.

The cup clinked against the plate in the sink as his hand slipped from the glass as something stabbed painfully inside him. The kitchen was finally quiet again when the last strawhat left it and closed the door behind him. He was alone again and Sanji wasn't sure if he was happy about it or not, because without a source of distraction he was fully aware of how shitty he felt. He had work to do but he just couldn't bring himself to move. He seriously began to think that maybe it was worth turning to Chopper. But on the other hand, if his problem cannot be solved by the usual medical means, he will only bring anxiety to the little reindeer and the rest.

The numb feeling of a handprint on his back suddenly reminded him of itself and Sanji felt like he was going to throw up.This time for sure. He tasted blood on his tongue. He hastily turned off the water and rushed to the restroom, covering his mouth with his hand and feeling the blood seep through his fingers and flow down his arm into his sleeve. He barely managed to close the door behind himself and fell to his knees in front of the toilet when his body trembled with a violent spasm, pushing blood and what looked suspiciously like chunks of his own flesh out of his throat. Sanji coughed and shook and felt like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs.

His head hurt from lack of oxygen and tension, but he couldn't stop. The blood continued to rise up his throat and he felt like he was drowning in it. He wasn't sure how long it took until all that came out was dry retching. He spat several times, swallowing, and pushed himself away from the toilet, leaning against the nearest wall while sitting on the floor. Everything was spinning and he forced his eyes open, staring at the ceiling. It was hard to breathe, but he couldn't stay like this, he needed to move and get himself in order. He's not dying, at least not yet. His body, cursed by Germa, is already beginning to heal itself, he can feel it. But for how long and how often. Is there a limit to his regeneration? How damaged his body must be so that he cannot recover. This is so inhumane. It's like he's a thing that can be broken and put back together as if nothing happened. There are not even scars and no one will know.

It's that feeling on his back again, pulling him out of his thoughts and reminding him that he has to move. So he moves. Sanji flushes the toilet, doing a quick job of cleaning up the traces of blood on the floor and tossing the tissues into the trash. He leaned against the door, listening if anyone was nearby, and carefully left the restroom, moving into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. 

It's a good thing that he kept some spare clothes in a drawer here just in case. They all did, actually. Because it often happened that someone forgot a change of clothes when going to the shower after another game with the captain, which inexorably ended in dirty clothes and bruises.

So now Sanji simply took out another pair of clothes and began to undress. He stopped when he unbuttoned his shirt, inadvertently catching his own reflection in the mirror. He looked terrible. His hair disheveled and stained with blood, as was his face and neck. Thank the gods that no one saw him like that. It’s not that he’s never been seen like this, but it’s one thing when it happens during a battle and quite another in peacetime on a ship. 

He doesn't want to make them scared. He doesn't want to upset them. They have enough in their lives for Sanji to add problems to them. That's why he'll try to deal with his own shit himself. He takes a breath and finally takes off his shirt, pauses and then turns his back to the mirror, looking at his reflection over the shoulder. He doesn't know what he expected to see there. Possibly an impact mark or some kind of burn. But definitely not a palm-shaped black ink stain. It also has some runes around the edges. Sanji reaches back and touches the ink with his fingers. It bites back as if full of static. It was weird. 

He brought his fingers closer, examining the dark stain on them. It looked dry, like dust, but at the same time did not come off the skin. He looked more closely and almost shuddered when the particles suddenly moved, looking more like miniature needles. The next moment they disappeared under his skin, giving that stabbing sensation again.

"Fucking hell." He cursed under his breath, feeling like he was going to be sick again.

It looks like his situation becoming more and more disgusting. If he got it right, this shit, whatever the hell this is, can move and is migrating somewhere in his body. And worse than that, it can damage him. And kill him, judging by the way his body reacted in the first hours. Was this the work of the fruit user or something else? However, now this is not so important. The important thing is...

"So, you've finally figured it out... Vinsmoke Sanji." It was a whisper, but it seemed that it sounded too loud and was coming from everywhere. Sanji flinched so hard that he almost crashed into the sink. His heart was beating at a crazy speed, he forgot how to breathe. He did not dare to move or say anything, afraid to hear the voice again. Is he really going insane? No, unfortunately, not. Now Sanji was almost sure that he had not imagined the voice, but that it was quite real and that its owner was directly connected with the ink mark. How much worse could things get?

He really shouldn't have asked this question because, as if mockingly, the next second he heard a knock on the bathroom door and a familiar voice.

"Cook! Is that you there? We really need to talk." It was silent for several seconds, clearly waiting for Sanji to respond. "Oi!"

“Fucking, fine!” Sanji barked back, losing his patience completely. Damn Marimo, he has no time for this right now.

"I'll wait here. You won't run away this time." Zoro muttered in response, unusually calm.

Sanji sighed. He's been doing this a lot lately. Well. At least he can still do it, breathe, that is. If Zoro decided to wait for him, then he has no choice but to forget everything and just rush to get himself in order and get it over with.

At least the voice was silent and he's grateful for that.

Sanji hurried to take a quick shower, washing the blood and sweat from his body and hair. Gods, he was disgusting. He brushed his teeth after getting dressed, feeling a little better afterward. He no longer stank and his clothes did not stick to his body so unpleasantly. He could still taste the blood though.

He took a quick look in the mirror to check that everything was fine. 

Nothing was fine, judging by his pale face and dark circles under his reddened eyes. He winced as the water dripped from his hair down the collar of his shirt, but Sanji didn't want to waste time drying it. 

He wanted to quickly deal with Zoro and leave.

So he opened the door and walked out of the bathroom.

.

Zoro was glad that he was able to quickly finish with Franky because his thoughts kept returning to the cook and it irritated him. He hurried to the kitchen, hoping that, as always, after washing the dishes and cleaning, he would start making preparations for lunch. But when he opened the door and looked into the kitchen, there was no one there. He looked around the room and found that the dishes were still in the sink and everything remained the same as it was when they all left. It was unsettling, the cook never left his precious kitchen in such a state. Moreover, after standing here for a while, Zoro thought he caught a familiar smell.

The blood.

His gaze ran around and fell down to the floor. There, almost near the door, he saw several dark drops. He crouched down, touching them with his fingers and smearing them. Yes, definitely blood.

Fucking cook.

The Hell "nothing's wrong."

Zoro stood up and hurried to look for him. This time he will force him to confess even if he has to knock it out of the stupid stubborn cook. And he doesn't care how hypocritical it is.

And now, after about half an hour of sitting under the bathroom door, he finally came face to face with Curly. He couldn't do anything other than frown after looking him over. He didn't look good, not his usual self. Not that Zoro thought the cook usually looked good. Of course not.

“So, what do you want from me, mosshead?” His irritated and slightly hoarse voice snapped Zoro out of his thoughts. Without waiting for an answer, Sanji walked back towards the kitchen so Zoro followed, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to be calm. Now is not the time for a fight.

"I want you to talk. As a first mate, I need to know what's wrong with you." Zoro responded, quickening his pace, not allowing him to increase the distance.

"I already said, nothing's wrong" Sanji bit back again.

Yes, sure. Zoro won't back down this time.

"You're lying. You look like crap and I found blood on your damn kitchen floor!" The swordsman could not stand it and barked back. He saw Sanji open his mouth to object again, but Zoro had enough. He grabbed the other man by the shirt and slammed him back into the wall. His eye narrowed dangerously.

"Stop feeding me this crap. Hell.." He growled in his face, his nostrils flared and Sanji suddenly realized with creeping horror mixed with burning embarrassment that Zoro was sniffing like a devil hound. "You stink of blood even though you took a shower. Where is…" 

Zoro didn't have time to finish asking where he was injured when Sanji pushed him away from himself, his eyes burning with anger, he looked flushed.

"Get away from me, you stupid fucking idiot!" Sanji almost screamed as he kicked the swordsman into the opposite wall and rushed forward towards the door.

"Oh fuck no, I said not this time!" Zoro growled in response, hurrying after him and again grabbing his shirt, which was already cracking, but the fabric was strong enough not to give in.

The hallway wasn't big enough for them to really fight, so it was more like a bar brawl now, but somehow they ended up on the deck and Sanji high-kicked Zoro with all his might. It didn't land, blocked by the back of Zoro's sword.

"I'm not in the mood to fight, stupid Marimo." Sanji hissed through his teeth, stepping aside. His breathing was ragged. His shirt is crooked with a loose button.

“Then don’t fight, just tell me what’s wrong with you.” Sanji opened his mouth again to answer this but Zoro stopped him. "No. Stop being a stubborn idiot. This is not the place. You are a cook, yes, but you are also a fighter in this crew. You fight on the front lines. You cannot behave so irresponsibly. If you're not at your best, you can become a liability…” Zoro saw the cook flinch at the last phrase. He felt a small voice inside him screaming that he had to stop here. That he shouldn't continue. But he pushed forward. “At best, someone will have to save you, and at worst, your weakness can kill someone. Do you really want that? Be the cause of someone's injury or death because you were too weak, unable to fight and not only protect others but even yourself?"  

Zoro barely had time to finish when he had to defend himself from the stream of blows that rained down on him. It looks like he really struck a chord with him. He didn't know how deep though. And if he had known, he would have closed his mouth and never uttered those words. 

If he had known how the fight would end this time, he would not have pulled out his sword. 

As it was now, Zoro responded to each of Sanji's attacks with equal force. When he remembers their fight later, it was a blur. They kicked and slashed at each other like two wild beasts, screaming and snarling. He remembered how angry the stupid cook was with him, throwing attack after attack, so desperately as if trying to prove something. 

At some point, Zoro even forgot what they were fighting about, too absorbed in defense and counter-attack. He shouldn't have though. He should have paid more attention to Curly. Otherwise, he would have noticed that his attacks had become subtly slower and less accurate. Otherwise, he would not have missed this dreadful moment when, during the next attack of the swordsman, the cook suddenly faltered.

With looming horror, Zoro watched as Sanji's legs seemed to become weaker and he lost his support. The cook will not block his attack, will not dodge, he realized. “I won’t make it in time” flashed through his head while he interrupted his own sword strike, trying to divert it to the side.

However, everything happened too quickly and no matter how hard Zoro tried, his blade bit into the side of the cook, cutting through the flesh with the same ease as through the fabric of the expensive shirt that he loved to wear so much and is now irrevocably damaged.

The next moment, Sanji slammed into him with a sudden dead weight, knocking them both onto Sunny's grassy surface. Zoro didn't dare move, feeling the other's blood soaking his shirt. He didn't dare breathe.

He felt that his hand, still gripping the handle of the Wado, began to shake, and he clenched his fingers tighter so as not to cause even more damage to the other. It was becoming slippery, he realized, from the blood running down the sword. The blood of his comrade. The blood of his cook. Their cook, he still corrected himself, with detachment. 

Suddenly he remembered the promise made through den den mushi. He remembered that he was ready to fulfill it if necessary because he is a man of his word, but now... he realized, unbearably clearly, that he could never do it. He just wounded the stupid cook. Whether it's accidental or not ,doesn't matter. He shed his blood with the sword, with which he was supposed to protect his comrade as well as the rest of the crew.

He began to suffocate, Zoro realized. So he tried to take air. It was small and not enough. 

He didn't care.

The trembling in his hand seemed to spread throughout his body and Zoro clenched his teeth. For some reason he now did not dare to touch the cook. They fought often and almost always ended with superficial cuts here and there and bruises, but not like this. Never like this. They would never fight each other without being sure that the other could handle it and be able to respond equally.

Zoro should have understood, should have realized that the stubborn idiot was out of shape to the point that he couldn’t fight fully. He should have...

He should have.

Zoro drew in a hoarse breath, only now realizing that he had been hearing the voices of the other strawhats somewhere nearby for some time. He couldn't make out the words though. And he didn't care what they said.

He felt hands reaching out to them, about to pull the cook by the shoulders and turn him over, away from Zoro. They didn't seem to understand what was going on.

He felt his sword move, cutting through the flesh above him even more, and in panic grabbed Sanji's shirt, almost growling at the one who tried to pull him away. “Don't...” 

The hands stopped instantly and Zoro heard Nami gasp. She probably finally saw the blood underneath them and understood. She probably couldn’t even suspect at first that the sword cut through the other’s side and wasn’t just near him. It was too impossible. Not in this situation. 

Not with Zoro holding the sword. 

He heard Chopper howl in panic and that's what finally snapped him out of his stupor.

Zoro carefully grabbed Curly by the shoulders and moved with him, changing his position to a sitting one. He forced himself to unclench his fingers, which seemed completely frozen and did not want to let go of the hilt of the sword. His hand shook and he took a breath. It didn't help much.

"Chopper, calm down and get your medical room ready. He's not dying, it's not lethal. It's an accident."

It is an accident. He repeated in his mind, reminding himself that this was not his fault. He wanted to believe it.

He changed his grip on the cook's shoulders, using his other hand to grab him under his knees and lift him off the grass. It was the only way to carry him in this situation. He didn't want to pull out the sword here and risk him bleeding to death. It's better if Chopper does this in his office.

Also, their doctor will be able to examine this idiot and finally find out what’s wrong with him.

Yeah, Zoro, you achieved your goal... are you happy now?

He couldn't help the choked laugh that escaped his throat. 

His nakama looked at him as if he had gone mad.

He didn't care.

He tightened his grip on the other man, feeling his breath too hot on his collarbone… his hair too soft. It smelled of smoke and blood.

He didn't like it.

He hurried to the medical bay.

.

.

.

TBC.

====================================

If you were able to read this chapter, thank you very much!

It's time to choose what happens next.

P.S. Read before choosing. The first three options if you want Sanji suffered a little more on the Sunny along with Zoro. The last three if you want the plot to develop faster. Also, the last three options will carry over to the next time if you don't choose them now, with the only amendment being that someone will know about Sanji's problem.

[flowery-laser-blasts]

He's been up there ever since the nurse said "Take a seat."

[awiderangeofgreen]

When Chay decides he's done with Kim's nonsense (it was "writing savage Chay day" XD)

"Are you hurt?" "I'm not." "So why is there blood on you?" [...] "It's not mine," Kim answers as he walks to his bathroom. He suppresses his limp as much as he can. "Ok, it's not yours so why do you need the first aid kit in your bathroom?" [...] "I told you I wasn't hurt." "How silly of me. Of course it's not your blood. You're just washing off other people's blood from you and need a first aid kit for this."

[thatgenderfluidmonstrosity]

Whumpee taking it upon themselves to administer punishment

Caretaker had been looking after Whumpee for a while, and they had been very obedient.

What they didn’t know, was that Whumpee just thought Caretaker was another master. Another person in charge. They acted the same with their old Whumper. They needed to be perfect for them.

Caretaker needed to leave for a couple hours, letting Whumpee stay home

This took some of the pressure off Whumpee, so they relaxed a bit

Bad idea

They tried to get themselves water, but in the process they broke the cup

No one was around to punish them

So what would they do?

Well, it was time to put some punishments into place.

And they couldn’t believe the horror on Caretakers face when they saw the poor Whumpee bleeding on the floor

Why isn’t master happy? Why aren’t they satisfied?

[ninjigma]

RexObi Week Part 7/7 - First / Previous

Day 7: Wedding Invitation Track: 'Share Your Address' - Ben Platt (Spotify / YouTube)

Rex didn't always wake up first. Though it was rare enough that when he didn't find Obi-Wan's warm side to tuck into that morning, he was wide awake in seconds, eyes blinking any remnants of sleep away as easily as any clone trooper could. 

Quick eyes covered the room, noted things at record speed. Nothing was broken or out of place, the patio door was open, but not any further then Rex had been opening it in the mornings, and Obi-Wan's clothes were still tossed on the floor from the night before. The biggest things out of place were that one, it was still dark out, and two, the door to the attached fresher was slightly open with light spilling out, but their was no noise beyond. 

As loath as Rex was to leave the warmth of the bed, he was also as curious as any clone could be, and with how silent it was he couldn't help but wonder what had woken the Jedi. There was even a hint of worry beginning to grow the more time passed, Rex all to familiar with the things that could wake and haunt a Jedi, especially Obi-Wan. So, with only a mild huff, he slid from the blankets, pulled on the oversized sweater their barely reached past the curve of his backside, and made his way over to the door.

"Kenobi?"

And though Rex had made no effort to be quiet, had pulled the sweater over his naked form with a mumble at being up and wasn't shielding his presence at all, the word sparked a very sudden reaction out of Obi-Wan. He had his back to Rex, standing almost eerily still, and Rex did not like the completely unfocused look he could see on Obi-Wan's face in the mirror. He appeared freshly showered and was dressed except for a folded blue dress shirt on the counter, but something just seemed off as rex's eyes flickered over the scars and marks he had come to know so well. There was also a hair buzzer, shaving cream, a towel, and Rex could guess what was supposed to be happening. But with the lack of movement he had been prompted to say the mans name, only instead of turning or answering or anything Rex had expected, Obi-Wan flinched hard, dropped the razor, and then hissed while clamping a hand to the left side of his neck. 

"Rex!" The surprise in Obi-Wan's voice was enough to make Rex blink in confusion, but him whirling toward Rex with a look the clone would normally have described as fear was much worse. "I- I'm sorry I woke you I was just, er, woke up and figured I'd clean up, of sorts."

Rex shook his head a bit in bewilderment. "You didn't really wake me, sir, just woke up," Rex then took a further step forward, reaching out towards where Obi-Wan was still clutching at his neck. "You were really quiet Obi-Wan, are you-"

Obi-Wan caught Rex's wrist in his free hand, the movement fast but the grip gentle. "I'm okay, really my dear," at this ever so convincing statement Obi-Wan stepped forward and pressed a quick kiss to Rex's palm, which Rex normally would have been happy about, but now had doubts as his Jedi continued to move forward, crowding Rex back the few steps out of the fresher. "I'll be done in a moment, promise. If you'd like, I had the morning cart sent up early, it should be outside now so you can help yourself well I finish, all right?"

Rex only had time to nod absently, eyes flicking to where a drop of dark crimson had escaped down the side of Obi-Wan's throat before they were parted, and the door slid shut between them. 

And Rex felt... lonely. It was a hard contrast to what must have been only hours ago, the evening before when Obi-Wan had so clearly reminded Rex of how much he loved him, fought for him the way Rex craved. Now he felt he was missing something very important, important to Obi-Wan. And if he was important enough to know about such things in the Jedi's life, then... well, Rex hadn't exactly been in a lot of relationships, but he did truly believe they were meant to share such things. That if something had Obi-Wan acting like this, then something must be wrong, and that meant something was wrong for Rex too, because the clone saw their worries together now, their hopes and wants intertwined. To fight back to back, never seeing but always trusting the other to be there. Not against, and not even side by side. The blind faith that your most vulnerable could be trusted wholeheartedly to someone. That was love right? Which means no, Rex shouldn't let Obi-Wan face whatever was obviously worrying him, hurting him. He should be in there with him, helping with the cut on his neck, weaving through the usual brand of nervous Jedi Obi-Wan still sometimes slipped into.

But when Rex raised his hand to the controls he thought of that moment again and froze. 

Because maybe what was wrong was Rex.

The clones mind suddenly went a mile a minute, tracing over the last few minutes, days, weeks. Trying to find the change, the moment. But he had answers for everything that seemed out of place besides just now. And what could have happened between Obi-Wan pushing Rex down into their bed and Rex waking up alone in it?

Rex lowered his hand. 

On the autopilot of past mornings Rex moved back to the kitchen and retrieved the cart from the hall. He noted how it had a few extra things today, a variety of treats like small pastries with powdered sugar dusted on them, and braided bite sized ones Rex discovered were filled with a type of strawberry jam. Sadly though he found he it hard to enjoy them the way they were probably intended. His mind kept blinking back, unsure whether to settle in the thoughts of what is wrong, or that he was somehow wrong. He didn't have any reason to really think such things, had been with Kenobi long enough to build a trust between them that if there really was something wrong and Rex was responsible for it, then Kenobi would come to him with it. In fact, he had already done so a few times, including opening up just nights ago with how he had been worried about not knowing how to give Rex a proper vacation. So, surely, it couldn't be Rex.

But what else could it be? What would prompt Obi-Wan not to share his worries now; what else could there be that Kenobi apparently did not trust Rex with?

It was just starting to gnaw at him properly when the Jedi came into the room, now with his shirt on and a small shimmery patch just below his beard where a pink line was healing. Rex expected something then, an admission of what was happening now that Kenobi had time to process, or even an apology ready as he still had a habit of doing. But he didn't do any of that, instead seeming to be only smiles again. In fact, he seemed near giddy now, slowly lifting the sweater and running broad hands up over Rex's sides. It was somewhat reassuring, the touch calming a part of Rex as it stayed rather innocent and exploratory, pulling away only ever long enough to sip caf or grab a fruit to share; but no talk of what had happened in the fresher came up. And before Rex knew it, the General had suggested a walk and he was holding his hand, quietly following the Jedi's lead.

Which brought him to the beach. Rex loved the beach, loved the water, the feeling, the sound, the smell. This early, with the sun just breaking above the waves, there weren't many people at all, mostly just a few workers here and there setting up morning stalls and activities. And the further down the beach they went the less there were, until it was just them and the waves biting at their feet.

"Rex?"

Rex came to a halt, the hand in General Kenobi's being pulled slightly behind him as the Jedi stopped walking. And when he looked back and found the concern so plainly written on the Jedi's face, Rex couldn't help sighing quietly in his head.

"Yes General?"

He watched as lips pursed tightly, and a decision was apparently made. "You've been rather quiet my love. I know you asked if I was okay earlier, and I promise again I am, but-"

"No."

The snap of the General's mouth was almost audible, everything about him going still at Rex's clipped tone. The hand still entwined with Rex's barely seemed to even have a pulse, everything frozen despite the quickly warming air.

"I didn't ask," Rex continued. "You said you were okay before I got to ask the question."

There was a bob to that freshly shaven throat, eyes that widened and an almost palpable upset easing out around them. 

"Rex I... I'm so sorry. I had just- just..."

"Just what sir?"

The formal titles seemed to be getting to the Jedi now, who's eyes continued to try and flicker away. He was fighting something, Rex definitely knew the signs of that, but the clone couldn't honestly tell what. And the more time that ticked by, the more the sun rose and the waves began hitting against their shins, the more Rex wanted to wade into the water and disappear. 

"If you really don't trust me enough to tell me what happened, what is wrong-" Rex started.

"That isn't-"

"Or if I have done something to upset you somehow that I am incapable of correcting-"

"No, Rex-"

"Then why are we here?"

His tone was level, Rex was good at that. Clear and straight cut. He wasn't letting anything play through his words, wasn't stating anything other then the words themselves. He kept his eyes up, locked on General Kenobi's forehead for the illusion of contact without ever actually making any. So he was able to note the true flash of emotions play across the General's face. Micro flinches Rex had long since catalogued, surprise turned to hurt before morphing to distress and hints of panic. Obviously Rex had been right, that something was wrong. Something was worrying General Kenobi and the man had chosen to hide it from him.

So when the General then let go of his hand, sputtering through noises that made no sense and hands beginning to wave about slightly, Rex decided maybe they really did both need a moment and turned to the water.

Rex didn't care that he wasn't wearing swim gear, didn't care that he left his sandals where the ocean would no doubt swallow them into its tides. He simply walked out until it was at his waist, gave the General the space and time he believed was wanted from Rex, and let himself sway with the surf instead. The water was still so cool, weaving past the fabric to ease at his muscle and take weight from his bones. His hands slowly began carding through the water, swirling in the ebb and flow of it. The water withstood the test of time better then anything ever had or ever will, and Rex let that familiar thought ground him. Let the waters immovable change strengthen him as it had many times before. 

And for how long it was, he didn't know for sure, but the sun was about half way up when he opened his eyes again. He could sense General Kenobi to his left sooner then that, but he hadn't said a word until Rex had taken a deep breath and turned toward him.

"You haven't done anything wrong Rex. And even if you had, I would more then trust you with it as well. I am sorry I gave you the impression otherwise."

Rex stayed silent still. He could feel that there was more; and besides that, General Kenobi's words were hollow if he did not fulfill the truth of them and trust Rex with what was wrong.

"I was just- I am nervous."

Which... wasn't the answer Rex expected. And unfortunately his silence this time was only met with the sound of waves, so he gave in to the prompting. "Nervous for what? That isn't much of an explanation sir-"

"Rex I know, I know," The General had turned quickly, once again taking Rex's wrist in his hand. But instead of kissing it goodbye this time, he brought it between both of his hands and pulled it towards his heart. "I know it is no explanation, especially not the one you deserve, I just- if I go through with it right here I am afraid I would actually drown with my height, and if I don't do it the right way I am positive Cody will find out somehow, and I rightfully already karked it up cutting myself shaving, Vos is going to hang me from my beard, not to mention you almost saw the ring because I couldn't follow the one rule Cody gave about not taking it out until I was proposing and-"

Rex's other hand clamped down on General Kenobi's mouth, the Jedi's looking desperately back to Rex. But Rex couldn't think much on that as he struggled to comprehend everything that just came spilling out of the Jedi. "I think you need to start that over, before Cody really does appear from no where to shove you in the ocean."

As the clones hand pulled away Obi-Wan's watery blue eyes widened in realization of what he said, and if Rex was being honest with himself, which he always tried to do, it was somewhat amusing how this was all falling apart in a very Obi-Wan way. Because if what Rex caught in all of that was truly what was about to happen, then this was most definitely a story that would make it back to Cody, with the express note that Rex wouldn't want a single second of it changed. Especially not when Obi-Wan once again fumbled as he seemed to forget himself and go to kneel, only to require Rex to grab him swiftly as a wave smacked into his shoulder and nearly took him under with it.

And now, both standing inches apart with Rex clutching Obi-Wan's shirt in a death grip and Obi-Wan snatching at a small, familiar blue colored box out of the water, tight enough to turn his already pale knuckle pure white as they both slowly began to laugh.

"Oh Rex," Obi-Wan sighed, face split in the most honest smile Rex had ever witnessed on him. "I am so sorry for being such a fool. But I am not the least bit sorry for how it has brought us here. I have a whole speech memorized, Cody made me repeat it over and over to Quinlan while Quinlan gave me various responses, but none of it was... this."

"Was what?" Rex couldn't stop his own smile that was almost starting to hurt now. "Was you nearly drowning because you forgot what you just said, calling yourself too short? Or the part where you have already blurted out what you are doing to me without actually doing it yet?"

Obi-Wan groaned, and Rex watched as bright blue eyes ensnared in crows feet rolled to the side. "All of it Rex, all of it. How do I even start to fix this?"

"Well," Rex hummed, letting his hold go a bit more slack but keeping his hands on Obi-Wan's broad chest. "Seems a shame to do all of that work and then not say your speech."

Rex could feel the waves still pushing at them, felt it mirror the pull of Obi-Wan's features as he seemed to think something through very critically for a moment before answering.

"Rex I... well I honestly can't. Later, if you want the full thing, I shall recite it with all the dramatics that I always deny having, but right now this just seems more... right. I don't know how to encompass everything we have been through together in some small speech anyhow. How do I explain how I trust you with everything, all the lives and happiness of those I love most, in the same time constraint that I give special prose to how much I adore the way your nose scrunches differently depending on your emotions- like that!"

Rex had in fact scrunched his nose up without realizing at the mention of his nose, and Obi-Wan had stolen the opportunity to quickly pop upward and kiss the end of it, much to the already overwhelmed clones amusement.

"My point is, rún, that you are the light of my life, the one I want to dedicate myself fully to, in every way imaginable, in front of every being who will listen including the Force itself. I love you. All of you. All that you have been, all that you are, and all that you will become. And to share all of that with you would be the highest honor I, high Jedi Master and General of the third systems army Obi-Wan Kenobi, could ever be given. So, letting the years speak for me, all I ask now is if you would give me the most wonderful gift of allowing me to remain at your side until the end, and guard your back as you have protected my heart against anything this galaxy can come up with, and marry me?"

Rex had been biting his lip, trying not to make a sound throughout all of Obi-Wan's fumbled words, taking them all in as the sun rose higher and the waves continued to hug them. He truly couldn't believe it was all happening though, that Obi-Wan Kenobi was saying this to him. A man with a galaxy wide reputation that was only truly rivaled by his own former Padawan, a man who had lead countless successful battles and missions, who had been giving his entire life to keep the peace before Rex had even been a test tube of random DNA. He stood now before Rex, a simple clone, and said he would dedicate all of that to him, if he only allowed him.

And though Rex had questions, like how Obi-Wan would keep his dedication to the order, those answers would come later (mostly in the shape of Anakin awaiting them on the landing platform, excitedly announcing how he had managed to outmaneuver Cody to get Obi-Wan's resignation letter to Windu for absolutely every Jedi and their clone on the platform to hear). For now, Rex only had one thing he wished to say as Obi-Wan very carefully opened the box between their chests to reveal a silver ring, inset with dark blue jaig eye shaped gems fit snugly around a light blue crystal that pulsed with a familiar kyber core. 

And he said it first without any words at all, heart bursting in his chest as he tightened his hands on Obi-Wan's shirt again and tugged him in for a promise sealed in a kiss. Then he backed only a breath away and locked a gaze that could make most beings squirm directly on Obi-Wan. "Yes, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Nothing would make me happier then being attached to your clumsy, dorky, handsome, brilliant, stubborn, and amazing self for the rest of my life." 

And if there was one thing Rex would never forget, it was how brightly Obi-Wan smiled up at him then after slipping that ring on his finger with shaky hands, or how the sun lit the grey in his hair so brightly it begged for Rex to thread his newly decorated hand through it. To capture Obi-Wan once again without any barrier between them. Just the light of a new day, the waves they stood against, and the currents of the universe melding them together. 

Because if there was ever any guarantee in this universe, it was this: Obi-Wan needed to love, and Rex needed to be given it.

@rexobiweek

[a-nuisance-called-sam]

Mitsuya Takashi x Reader

Summery: You have a nightmare about your favorite person dying so you go for a late night visit.

Warning: nightmare, mention of blood and wounds, mention of death, panic, gender neutral reader, first name basis, relationship between reader and mitsuya is not mentioned this can be read as either platonic or romantic.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

You wake up with a gasp, sweaty and trembling in panic. "I have to- I have to make sure he's okay" you think as you get out of your bed and escape your house through the window. Climbing over the boundary wall you land onto the street and run as fast as you can to his house. His house was a good 15 minutes walk from yours but with the panic and adrenaline pumping into your body that was the least of your concerns. Bare footed you run, shoulders bumping into the walls as you take twist and turns. Your chest hurts from it all but you manage to keep going, your only focus is to know if he's really okay. As you start losing the feelings in your legs, the sight of his house greets you.

You run up to the door and pound on it with urgency. Within seconds you can hear people scrambling on the other side of the door. When the door opens, you see a scared and confused Ms. Mitsuya, whose face slightly relaxes upon seeing you instead of some kind of danger. Behind her you see an alert Takashi who was ready to attack in case of danger, whose expression switches from cautious to concern upon seeing you. You immediately run in and bury your face with tears running down your face, into the side of his neck, mumbling the phrase "you are safe" repeatedly as you hug him tightly.

At this point, exhaustion hits you, body going limp as you start to sink to the floor. Takashi immediately pulls you back up and leds you to a chair. As you sit there and try to catch your breath, taka and his mother have a short conversation which you are unable to pay attention to, after which she leaves you two alone in the room. "Here" Takashi says, handing you a glass of water as he pulls up a chair and sits in front of you. Slowly drinking the water you realize just how much your entire body hurts as your body and mind begin to relax.

"I'm sorry. " you begin as your breathing becomes somewhat normal. "I had a very vivid nightmare of-of you dying, " you say while Takashi patiently listens. "and, I guess, in my panic I ran all the way to make sure you were actually okay. I'm really sorry for disturbing you guys so late at night. " you finish with a breathy sigh as you slump forward in your seat. You rub your face as you feel a pounding headache coming.

"It's okay, I understand." Takashi says in a soft voice with the sympathetic look on his face; knowing just how badly baji's death affected you. "We all just got a little scared when we heard the loud banging on the door, that's all." he finally gives you a soft smile making you feel relieved. You make a mental note to apologize to his mother and sisters as well.

"It's late so just spend the night here." He says getting up from his seat. You get up to follow him but wince in pain just as you stand. Sitting back down you take a look at the soles of your feet which had a some bloody cuts from running barefoot on the streets. Taking notice of your condition, Takashi immediately gets the first aid kit and a wet cloth. You watch in silence as Takashi carefully cleans the cuts and your feet to apply the medicine and bandage them. Once he's done the work, he puts away the things and helps you to his room.

Takashi and you share the same bed that night as he holds you close in his comforting embrace and reassures you that he's always going to be there for you. In the warmth and comfort of your favorite person that you hold so dear to you, you finally let sleep take you as you feel him place a gentle kiss on the crown of your head.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°end°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

[y0url0verb0y]

"You have your father's eyes"

Quick micro fic based on a comment from this post I made. Thank you sm for the idea, @gods-graveyard

.

.

.

Barty looks up into the mirror, the reflection staring back at him one he despises. He looks so much like his father, too much like his father. He bows his head staring down at the sink, he can't bear to look anymore. It's so unfair that he holds so much resemblance to the cruel man, his mother's features but a ghost on him.

He looks up, head still down towards the sink but he's looking in the mirror once more. He's staring into the reflection of his eyes, the most vile colour of brown stares back at him. He winces, gripping the sink 'till his knuckles turn white to refrain from punching the mirror. He wants to claw his own eyes out and squeeze them 'till the pop.

He thinks about Evan's eyes, so unique and alluring. One a beautifully light jade green and the other a soft baby blue. Both colors he's come to favor over the years. When he looks into Evan's eyes he feels serenity, his personal safety. However, when he looks into the reflection of his own, he feels unease, it makes him physically ill.

Before he can even think he slams his head into the mirror, the glass immediately shattering upon impact. The glass pokes into his skin, blood falling down his face into the sink. He curses at the sting, yet the pain is relaxing in a way.

He takes a second to calm himself, knowing he'll have to go meet Evan soon. He turns on the sink letting the chilling water run over his hands. He cups his hands letting them fill with water soon splashing it onto his face. He lets out a short breath feeling content enough, then reaches into his back pocket for his wand. Grabbing it out he points it at the mirror first to fix it with a quick "reparo." Then he cleans up his wounds, quickly missing the sting. Finally, he points the wand at each of his eyes individually using "colovaria" to change the colour from a vile brown to a striking green.

He never wants to hear, "You have your father's eyes," again.

[monstersandmaw]

so today i learned how ungulate horns have a nervous and blood supply and aren't just non-living hard tissue and ooof now i'm just imagining some minotaur angst where their human s/o is tending to their broken horn that they damaged in battle and human s/o is trying to make it hurt less and stop the bleeding and adding healing salve to the broken end while trying to reasure them while the minotaur is upset partly because of the physical pain and partly because they take great pride in their horns so a broken one hits their self esteem hard :(

Ooof, this is an angsty one, Anon! My heart!

I have a retelling of the Minotaur story on the go at the moment, and I had it so that when Asterius (the Mino) was dropped into the labyrinth as a child, he broke his right horn, and it was Daedalus (the designer of the labyrinth) who performed the caretaking role you described.

Here's my take on that Mino anyway:

[leventart-den]

Interactive ZoSan fanfic. Ch.01

AN:

Hello dear Straw Hearts!

So here we begin our journey with the first chapter of the interactive ZoSan fanfic. Please remember that I am not a writer and English is not my native language. But I will try and I hope we all have fun. I have some ideas but your choices are what decide where the story goes. In the vote, you chose that our story will take place in the canonical One Piece setting. But since I have not yet seen many events and am not familiar with all the characters (I only just met Brook in the anime at the time of writing this but I happily spoiled some things for myself so I know roughly Sanji's story), my vision may conflict with canon. There may also be spoilers here, so be careful. This first chapter is just setting up the scene.

 If you prefer to read on AO3, then the first chapter is here.

This is also beta-readed by wonderful @dad-cahoon ! Thank you so much for your help!

So, without further ado, buckle up and let our journey begin!👀

***

-= My 4am Sun =-

Ch.01 "Distraction and consequences"

Sanji really thinks that Zoro will be the end of him one day. One way or the other. He's such a distraction. And he doesn't even know about it. And Sanji would never tell him. His sword work is blinding. Every time it catches the light and the glare hurts his eyes and Sanji hates it. He hates how it makes him freeze and silently demands “look at me.” 

Look at me. 

Look.

And Sanji looks.

Because he can't not.

And he stares.

Because no one really knows but Sanji loves.

He loves endlessly all the big and small things in this world that he finds beautiful. And now he loves how the 4am sun embraces the swordsman and grazes the steel of his swords. It stole the breath away from him in the same way it did on that momentous day when Zoro took a blow from Mihawk with his arms open and his gaze determined. Something shifted in him that day. Something sparkled and he treasures it still, keeps safe deep in his heart. Sanji will never admit it but Zoro became someone special to him that day. Someone he looked up to and strived to become in some way. Zoro was strong, passionate, and a man of his word. He was ready to follow his dream no matter what. Sanji was the same in some parts. Objectively speaking he was strong and passionate himself, but he always lacked self confidence. He always sought so much less of himself. Although It was always compensated for by him trying his best. And actually doing his best no matter what circumstances he was in (no, we are not talking about his weakness for women in this house). But nevertheless, Sanji was almost always blind to his own achievements. He never praised himself, even a little, and took the praise of others as if it was the biggest treasure. He never thought of himself as deserving anything good but still he dreamed of kindness and love and friendship.. 

And he always wanted to be friends with Zoro. And after all these years, he kind of thought they were. Even though from an outsider's view their friendship looked more like hatred, in reality it was just rivalry and they both loved it, at least Sanji thought Zoro liked it too. 

Sanji enjoyed their bickering and fights, he truly did. But there were times when he could get tired of it. In those moments he really wished they could have a “calm” friendship. Sanji tried from time to time to guide their relationship in that direction, but Zoro never got the message. It always ended up with sharp jokes, insults, or fights and every time Sanji–with an inner sigh–followed Zoro's lead. 

But also Zoro sometimes surprised Sanji by looking weirdly happy, or even proud when seeing the cook coming to the fight scene. It really throws Sanji off every time because he doesn't know what to think of it. It is too weird. And other times Sanji thinks that Zoro may even care for him. Like that time on the sea train when Zoro screamed at him to not go along further and wait for them because it was too dangerous. Of course it was turned into a joke in the end, but nevertheless. And if Sanji would be honest it drives him crazy every time. Every time he thinks they may have their “ordinary friendship” moment, Zoro snatched it away as fast as his swordwork. And once again Sanji sighs and goes along. Although to be fair, Sanji himself often starts the fight or bites first so he has nothing to complain about, really. Right?

Right.

So, he's completely okay with not having a normal friendship with the stupid mosshead.

It's only fair, he thinks. And dives down at the last moment, barely avoiding a killing blow from the enemy. It's a really bad idea to be distracted right now, in the middle of the battle on the deck of their ship. Sanji was actually starting to feel tired, and not only him, judging by the way others were fighting. The attack happened suddenly, late at night. A huge ship appeared as if out of nowhere, fortunately Zoro, who was on watch, quickly raised everyone. Their opponents were fast and tiring. And there were many of them. Although the entire attack was strange, as if they had a specific goal unknown to the Straw Hat Pirates. And their captain hasn't even shown up yet. They were also terribly silent, making the atmosphere of the battle sickeningly depressing and oppressive. Sanji and everyone else were used to the fact that their opponents were usually loud, demanding attention to their person, no matter how deadly, the atmosphere was almost always like a chicken coop fight. Noisy, bright and reckless. That's probably why Luffy loved these moments so much. He had a lot of fun, of course, when the situation wasn't life-threatening for his nakama. But now even their captain looked out of place. 

Suddenly, Sanji felt a long-forgotten but familiar chill running down his back. That kind of dark anxiety that cannot be explained because there is no reason for it.. But nevertheless, something inside begins to scream heart-rendingly, “run!”

And perhaps Sanji would have run, if in the next moment he had not felt a firm push of someone's palm to his back. Everything around seemed to freeze for a moment, for one painful heartbeat. The place where palm touched felt numb, but after a moment there was a tingling spreading throughout his body along with an increasing ringing in his ears. His head started to hurt. For a second he thought something had snapped inside him and a terrible heat exploded. He couldn't even scream.

He took a breath.

And blinked. 

And time seemed to rush forward again, drowning him in a cacophony of sounds

He felt confused. What just happened? Where was he? What was he doing?… Why is it so light already?

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a familiar voice next to him.

"Hey Sanji! I'm terribly hungry, can you cook something? No, not something, meat! A lot of meat!" Luffy slapped him on the shoulder as he passed by, making him step forward from the force of the impact. He shouldn't have though. Of course, their captain was many times stronger than any of them, but such a movement should not have moved Sanji so easily. He almost lost his balance. He felt shaken.

He blinked again, gritting his teeth and realizing that there was no cigarette in his mouth. He couldn't light a new one though. Not now, when his hands are shaking so much, hastily hidden in his pockets.

He looked around. Everyone went in different directions. The battle was over, they were moving away from the smoking ship of the unknown pirates behind them. Judging by the sun, it was now about eight in the morning. He lost time.

He lost time.

Sanji swallowed nervously. He should think about something else. He can't spiral  now. He can't fall apart. Not here where everyone can see him. He must be just tired... There is no reason to worry and especially no reason to give others reasons to worry. It sounded stupid even in his own head, but he has no choice but to persuade himself like this at such moments. He has a lot of practice. He just needs to hold on a little longer. 

And he will. 

He always does.

He exhaled, glad that Luffy did not wait for his answer and apparently did not notice his confusion. He will think about everything later, but now he needs to get to breakfast. Everyone is probably terribly exhausted and needs to replenish their strength. Sanji would make them the best breakfast he could. Something from rice. And not at all because the stupid Marimo loves rice dishes. Again. Sanji will never admit it, but he loves to surprise that stupid swordsman. He feels it as a small victory and grins proudly every time he sees that he likes his food.

He thought to himself as he walked to the kitchen and desperately tried to ignore the trembling which threatened to take over all of him. Nervousness was creeping through his entire body and as soon as the door to his personal temple slammed shut, hiding Sanji from prying eyes, he leaned against it wearily, hastily taking out a new cigarette and lighting it. It took him several attempts before a small flame touched the tobacco tip. He took a drag and exhaled, closing his eyes and resting the back of his head on the wooden surface.

He lost time. A few hours. What happened at that time? Has he passed out? Is he even awake now? No, no. He can't go there. He will drive himself crazy. He can't afford it. He must trust his crew. If he's passed out and it's a dream, they'll wake him up. If not, then to hell with it. Whatever happened during the lost time is not so important if no one asked him about it. 

As if in mockery, the hand mark on his back reminded him of itself with an already familiar numbness, as if someone else's palm was still touching him. It was disgusting.

"Fuck." His hand hit the wall before he even thought about what he was doing. He desperately tried to convince himself that everything was okay, but the truth is that he is scared to the guts. Sanji takes a breath and relaxes the fingers that he hadn’t noticed he had clenched into a fist.

Okay…

Okay.

Breakfast.

Taking another drag from his cigarette and exhaling through his nose, Sanji determinedly headed to the countertop, gathering the necessary ingredients as he went. After washing his hands, he took out a cutting board and a knife, forcing his hands to stop shaking, feeling the pressure in the back of his head starting to build up again. It made his ears ring disgustingly. He ignored it, clenching the cigarette between his teeth and starting to chop the vegetables. He will do what he should do. For what he became a member of this crew. Sanji would not allow himself to be a burden or a problem for this team. For his team, he corrected himself. Because he's part of it. He should not forget or deny it, even if at times he considers himself unworthy. 

His knife made the first “knock”, cutting through the vegetables and connecting with the board. 

It sounded oddly muffled.

He blinked.

Sanji watched dumbfoundedly as something was burning in a frying pan. He choked on his breath, dropping the extinguished cigarette from his mouth and hurried to turn off the heat, putting the frying pan aside. Feeling the world shift from the sudden movement, he hurried to grab the countertop to steady himself. A cold shiver ran through his body, his heart was pounding wildly, and his bones and muscles ached as if he had just taken a severe beating. Sanji sucked in a raspy breath, watching with incomprehension as dark blood dripped onto the surface of his precious kitchen, staining it. He touched his face, feeling the warm stickiness running down his lips and chin. 

This was wrong. 

He never bled out of the blue.

Sanji heard laughter coming from somewhere outside and winced. He hurried to the sink, washing the blood from his face and then wiped the countertop with a napkin, tossing it in the trash and throwing the scraps on top. 

He almost sank to the floor after that, but kept himself on his feet, making an incomprehensible quiet whining sound through his teeth, full of anger and something deeply painful. 

He felt weak. 

Again. 

He didn't understand what was happening or why. 

He will be a burden to them. 

He did not want that. 

Fucking hell. 

He didn't want it.

His eyes stung, but he took a breath. He must stop.

Breakfast.

He looked around the kitchen. Everything was ready, all that remained was to set the table.

Whatever happened to him during the lost time, his body apparently continued to work. That was good.

A small mercy.

He took another breath and lit another cigarette. His body ached, but felt calmer. It felt as if it was healing. Maybe it was. 

Okay.

He will set the table, get through breakfast and then decide what to do.

He's not weak. Not anymore. He can handle it.

Sanji felt something was torn somewhere in his body, he felt cold. He spat the blood into the sink and washed it off with water. 

He'll get through this, damn it.

.

.

.

TBC.

====================================

If you made it to the poll you probably read the chapter, so thank you for that!

It's time to decide where the story will go next! Keep in mind that some choices may lead to similar results just in a different way.

[flowery-laser-blasts]

'Repo! The Genetic Opera' Kim Possible AU

The image below is a spoiler for the ending of the movie Repo! The Genetic Opera. If you don't mind spoilers (and a bit of blood) go ahead! :)

(Also warning for this movie is filled with body horror, blood and other adult themes so it's not everybody's cup of tea).

"And we will always have each other, in our time of need... Tina you're the world to me."

Based on the final act of the movie. Also note that this isn't a Kim x Drakken in any way. It's a father daughter parental relationship.

REPO-AU SYNOPSIS: James Possible and Drew Lipsky work at HenchCo. James' new bio tech could revolutionise the medical field in ways no one could imagine but something has gotten in the way. Jack Hench instructs Drew in private to kill James Possible and leave no witnesses, as to why is unknown but the reward would be "A cure for your dear wife's illness.". Drew, out of fear for Jack and the hopes of saving the life of his beloved wife Shego, accepts the order to kill his colleague and only friend. Unbeknownst to James, Drew is in actually the Repo-man; a hitman who brings in their 'test subjects' a.k.a. people who are overdue on their pay to Jack Hench.

That same night Drew breaks into the house and manage to assassinate James along with his wife Ann. He then hears a cry coming from one of the rooms. He finds a little baby girl crying in her crib. Drew can't get himself to harm her and makes the decision to take her in so he and Shego can raise her together. Once the bodies are taken care off, Drew brings the baby into his house only to find out that Shego has passed.

Heart broken and a puppet for Jack Hench. The only thing that keeps Drew from losing it is raising his daughter Athena (Tina for short), in secret. Keep her safe and sound. She's a constant reminder of his sins as the Repo-man.

Massive thank you to @gothicthundra for suggesting this movie to me. I enjoyed it thoroughly!! The characters, world building and music. It's just so good!!

Nathan is a tragic character and while watching the movie, him switching around and taking on his repo-man persona (and way of deranged singing at some parts) just inspired me... Had this WIP for months and months in my folders but got inspired because I've been looking up some similair themed stuff for work (no I'm not a hitwoman, I'm too clumsy for that). This is probably one of the rare occasions I make angsty stuff.