#Wander on HIS turf? Not on his watch!

[ultravioart]

It's also kind of funny that Hater seems to have a type for "Green skin, pink eyes, tall, shoulder pads, sharp ears, etc..." considering Peepers and the watchdogs are basically just... pink eyes. Red technically, but with the pink/purple skin it may elicit enough "cute!" vibes that Hater hired them purely on aesthetics of "this looks totally cool and kawaii to have as minions" lmao It also just occurred to me than since the ol' red eyes are technically red heads, Hater probably doesn't mind orange hair (though he seems to have a preference for blondes). and I can just imagine Peepers slightly freaking out about that since Wander is Orange furred... with a mighty green hat... and Wander adores hater... and Wander is TALLER than Peepers..... lol.... someone is scared of being replaced.

[kill4luvina]

"Who's that?"

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Plug!Armin x Plug!Reader x Plug!Eren

Summary : Eren and Armin go out to a party to find out who this mysterious "Stunna"(Y/n) is after she's stepped in the game they've been losing mad business and at first they were going to jump you, until they saw you. Instead they decide they were tag/double team you.

Warning : SMUT, Car sex, just sumin nasty for the girlies because i said so, not proof read, ngl eren and armin get a lil intimate(they on some gay shi ngl), use your imaginationn if sumin don't make sense.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

The room was awash in a spectrum of colors, pulsating neon lights flickering and casting a glow hue of different colors. The walls throbbing in the same rhythm as the heavy bass as the room was filled with bodies pressed up against each other – some grinding, others chatting it up. The vibe was wild, a crazy energy swirling in the air, getting everyone hyped. Smoke twisted up towards those neon lights, adding this trippy scent to the mix.

The air was thick with the mixed scents of sweat, perfume, and the distinct earthiness. Eren and Armin had only popped out to this party because of some info someone dropped, thinking they could catch the mysterious "Stunna" who had been stealing their costumers. "Bro, what if this shit was a set up." Armin whispered, eyes scanning the crowd, getting jumpy at any sudden moves. "Relax, man. You're incognito with that ski mask, nobody knows it's you,dumbass" Eren shot back, pushing through the crowd, Armin following close behind with his hand under his shirt holding onto his glock.

"Oh damn, Luvii!" You greeted your bestie as she practically dove through your car window for a hug. "I was starting to think you weren't coming!" Luvina would say as she pulled away. "And you popped out with the all black hell cat? Okay I see you!" You chuckled, stepping out with your tote bag as she acted all surprised, though she had the same whip in pink. "Come on, girl, quit playin'."

"Luvi, you look so fine stop fuckin playin wit me..." A guy would come up to the two of you at the party, he'd start talking to luvina as he started touching up on her. "Ew, girl get a fucking room.." You'd say walking away, wandering throughout the party giving them some privacy. "Yo, Stunna!" You'd hear one of your favorite costumers yell out, making your quickly turn your head. "You got anything on you I can buy?" He'd ask, you'd nod your head opening your tote bag pulling out a few carts & vapes. "Lemme get that one, how much?" "75." "Aight, take 100 and I'ma put the 25 into the next thing I buy."

Then, out of nowhere, some dude grabbed you and pulled you outside. Caught off guard, you clocked they were both rockin' ski masks, so you didn't waste time, pullin' out a gun from the waistband of your jeans. "Who the fuck are yall?!" You demanded, sizing them up, outnumbered but ready. Armin lowered his mask, checkin' you out before speaking up. "Ease up, mamas, we ain't here to cause trouble, we on your turf remember?" Armin would remind you making your ease up a tiny bit. Eren would pull his off too, you had seen them before on Instagram but damn they looked finer in person.

"Fuck yall doing on my turf anyway?" you questioned, gun still raised, keepin' your distance, looking for answers. "Damn, chill mamas, we came to see if ya shit as good as we heard." Eren would lie, both of them knew they wanted to jump your ass but as soon as they saw how fine you were they couldn't. Now they both just wanted to see if they could could hit it before they left. You'd put your gun down staring at the two silently for a moment before walking past them to your hellcat. The two would silently watch you before dabbing eachother up and follow you in excitement.

Honestly, you don't even know how it happened but it started off with you 3 in the back seat smoking up a storm. Not even 20 minutes into your smoking sesh, your body started heating up at the sly comments the two would throw at you. You'd pussy throbbing at the sound of Eren telling you how fine you were and Armin touching you in all the right places at all the right times, what a duo. In about 10-15 more minutes you found yourself making out with Armin's lap, Eren giving you kisses from the side making your overwhelmed not knowing who to kiss.

"Mmph!" You'd cry into Erens mouth as kissed you, not even being able to think straight. You were completely drowned in bliss as you felt Armin lap up your juices with his tongue. You've never been eaten out the good before, and it was a complete game changer when you felt him sink his fingers into your brown and pink fat pussy.(im such a troll for that one) Your eyes would roll to the back of you head as you pulled away from eren moaning into the crook of his neck as your nails scratched him looking for something to grip on. "Doing so well for us." You'd hear eren say softly as he held you, continuing to praise you.

On the other hand, Armin was fucking your pussy up real good. He was nose deep, not able to even contain himself and just you moaning made it even worst. You'd feel your eyes fill up with tear as you cried out even louder cumming all of his face as you held onto Eren even tigher, trembling as you came down from your high. Armin would pull away licking his fingers as he wiped his face. "My turn." you'd hear Eren say, you were to tired to even complain feeling yourself getting moved around. "Mamas, be a good girl and arch for daddy." You'd hear Armin's voice now from infront of you, you'd look up from your fluffy lashes to see his pretty blue eyes looking right back down at you.

He'd smile, his sliver braces showing as he'd whip out his dick as it hit you head in the center of your face making your slightly flinch. Not knowing who to pay attention to you'd feel something poke at your entrance. "wait-Fuc--" you'd be shut up by two dicks filling you up from both sides, your moans muffled by Armins dick. You'd start tearing up again but this time you'd actually start crying, the amount of pleasure you were getting at once was insane. Your make-up getting completely messed up as Armin kept face fucking you. Eren on the opposite side ramming your shit.

"look at you go mamas." Armin would say pulling his phone out as he started to record you, with his hands now away you'd quickly pull away coughing as you looked back up to the video. You'd could help but start moaning loudly again from eren as you started to pump his dick from the base spitting on it. You'd start sucking him off harder making a sloppy mess with bubbles every wear not taking your eyes off the video. "Fuckkk, so good for us.." Armin would whimper, voice slightly cracking as he moaned. Eren letting out groans as he picked up his place leaving you a moaning mess not even able to focus on the task at hand.

Armin would stop recording as he went back to face fucking you, but he was looking behind you this time. You'd feel both ends slow down as you looked up once more to see the two kissing. Your pussy couldn't help but twitch and suck Eren in even more from how hot that was. Slightly shocked, you assumed it was just the weed kicking all 3 of ya'll differently. But this didn't last long because after a few seconds they were both back to abusing your holes. The game ender for you was when Eren brought his fingers down and start rubbing on you clit, you came so fucking hard you started squirting tear rolling down your eyes.

Armin was next pulled away as you brought your tonuge out and he came on your face leaving you a mess. Eren would do the same after a few more thrusts cumming your ass and back. You'd fall, your body fully limp as you caught your breath. "Damn, if your drugs ass addicting as you are i might have to switch over." Armin would joke as pulled you up giving you a kiss as eren laughed at his stupid joke. "ngl, being opps stupid asl, why don't we conjoin and just become sumin bigger?" Eren would ask, but you were sound asleep leaving the two.

"Eren, did we kiss?" Armin would ask "Shut the actual fuck up idk what your on."

(LOL IDK WHAT THIS IS I STARTED WRITING AND COULDN'T STOP, BUT IMA START WORKING ON REQUESTS NOW.)

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

[chibimochii]

I come bearing ScaraSethos 🤲🏼💝 hopefully it’s not a spoiler to reveal that Sethos’ pretty significantly affiliated w the Temple of Silence but all that to say that it’s usually a quiet and peaceful place since it’s hidden away but once Wanderer begins coming over at Sethos’ friendly requests (tho Wanderer claims it’s purely for academics lmao), the other temple peeps begin to hear Sethos’ laughter echoing thru the hallways bc he kept playfully pestering his crabby guest one too many times and ended up pinned to the floor tanking hella scribbly tickles along his lower back aka my personal take on Sethos’ Death Spot™️ bc that back window is so tasty

Bonus if the temple elders who watched Sethos grow up tease him in front of Wanderer afterwards saying that they missed his bubbly laughter from when he was a smoll boy and his face starts burning while Wanderer gives them his innocent, angelic, and polite smile like what a cute memory (o^^o) but Sethos knows he’s doomed fr fr poor mans is not well versed in keeping his giggles under wraps for very long and when he tries to hide his laugh in his hand / the crook of his elbow, Wanderer is quick to switch spots and dig right under his arms and along the curve of his shoulder blades yknow? instantly gets Sethos begging for his life and nothing thrills Wanderer more bc he’s a ruthless ler and Sethos is actually very tanky for a lee when it comes to having a giggly good time

it’s not entirely one sided tho! Wanderer takes his hat off indoors and when he uses his skill so eventually, Sethos notices the electro mitsudomoe on the back of his neck, whcih instinctively he thinks to touch it with a little bit of electro (like when you see the pillars in the overworld haha) thinking at most Wanderer will glare at him and maybe tickle him but to Sethos’ immense delight, he SQUAWKS like a dusk bird and fumbles a stack of books he was carrying or even his catalyst and its silent for a moment before Sethos gets a wicked grin on his face that Wanderer doesn’t stick around to see bc he’s booking it away Anemo jet style so it’s a race for who’s faster btwn him and Sethos’ electro speed but since it’s also Sethos’ home turf, he eventually backs Wanderer into a dead end muahahahaha

Hope this brought a smile to your face om nom nom 🧸

Wahhh this was so good!~ you really gave so much fuel to this duo✨️

Sethos being a little bastard pushing Wanderer's buttons on purpose to rile him up. Probably (definitely) knowing the consequences-

.

Sethos back window is 110% his worst spot, like get him on his back and he's yours. Sethos knows that, the elders knows that, heck cyno knows that and now wanderer. Poor guy is doomed.

And wanderer isn't the sweetest ler, he is almost downright mean sometimes. But not cruel,, however he definitely gets a kick getting to absolutely wreck Sethos by tickling him to pieces. Best part? Sethos is down for that, he finds it fun :)

As for sethos getting revenge, it's like a 40% chance he will get to properly get wanderer back, but once the opportunity arrives. He will leap on it. Do his damn best to try and take him down and tickle him back. Finding his weak points. But it's not easy when your boyfriend has anemo power equivalent of jets that makes him able to zoom away at any point he wants.

But, I'm a firm believer that wanderer is pretty ticklish himself, thighs are the worst spot. Sides are another, ribs, hips. Tracing the marks that light up during the times he uses his vision? Yep. But the mark on his neck?... touch it at your own risk, it's a reminder of what he is, was. Who he's connected to, and he probably wouldn't be very happy by having it brought up. But with time, maybe he would occasionally let his curious partner touch it.. maybe -3-

(This got sooo long holy- my bad

[silversoulstardust]

[punk hazard/dressrosa arc spoiler heavy lawlu rambling]

recently I saw a video that was comparing luffy to naruto and the fact that luffy is not a hero when compared to naruto because naruto saved people even when the people that needed saving refused it (ie uchiha sasuke) but luffy? luffy saved countries on his selfish whim and all the other people he saved, he waited until they asked for it. he waited nami to ask for his help and robin to tell him she wanted to live.

except you know who? trafalgar law.

we could tell that law was planning on a suicide mission when he went to punk hazard on his own. he sent off his crew to zou and was wandering alone to find out more about the SAD factories and knew he risk angering doflamingo by destroying it. during that time, he saw an opportunity, formed that alliance with the strawhat and marched on to dressrosa.

retrospectively looking at it, there was no doubt that he was using the strawhat crew. he was putting them all in an unprecedented amount of danger by stepping on doflamingo's turf, the risk he wasn’t willing to put on his own crew that he sent away much earlier.

law definitely felt guilty over it.

at least for a little bit, when law watched luffy almost got his ass handed to him by doflamingo when law was helplessly restrained on the flower hill at the new king’s plateau and was making a fuss for the others to let him free despite his heavy injury until robin who could see through law’s intention and action had to say it: “luffy is here because of his own free will.”

after the deal at greenbit fell through and law found out doflamingo had been manipulating the press, he tried to break the alliance. threatened to kill luffy once luffy uncuffed him. but luffy just shut him up and lugged him all over the place like a sack of flour over his tiny shoulder and fought doflamingo till the end.

one could argue that luffy did that because rebecca asked him to, but revenge against doflamingo was also one of the things that occupied law’s the most since he lost cora-san. he just didn’t directly ask luffy to beat the shit out of doflamingo on his behalf. yet luffy did it anyway.

so back to the whole naruto vs luffy comparison at the beginning of this post? at least there’s one exception where luffy helped someone against his will and acted like a goddamn hero. and it is towards the damsel in distress that is trafalgar d water law.

[crusty-chronicles]

BONUS AIRHEADED S/O HEADCANNONS: Yusuke (Yu Yu Hakusho)

He likes to act like he's some callous tough guy, but really he's a huge softie.

Can get annoyed by your dullness, but other than that this boy is whipped

Yusuke is the furthest thing from book smart, but he's very street smart.

You on the other hand, aren't smart at all.

The amount of times he's had to pull you out of oncoming traffic is insane.

Not a single scratch on your either

But when HE wanders out in the street to get some kid's ball, he ends up getting hit by a car. 

Yusuke's known you since he and Keiko were in diapers. 

And even then he thought you were a strange kid.

I'm sorry? Did you just ask him if he could smell what purple tastes like??? While coloring with a red crayon?

You put your baby teeth under the bed? So the monsters don't get hungry???

No you cannot have some of his mother's ‘juice.’

He was never the best at making new friends, and you'd been around long enough for him to grow fond of your strange habits. So~he didn't mind you tagging along.

Especially when he'd reached junior high and his bad boy facade really ramped up.

Always getting into fights, always ditching school, always getting into trouble just because he could.

It should've come as no shock that you'd get after him for his behavior. Like the rest of the people in his life.

You'd caught him one day after school. Yusuke having been in a fight, which he of course was punished for by Iwamoto. Even though he wasn't the one that started it.

You had grabbed his arm, thinking he was skipping again.

But when he turned around you could see various scratches littering his face, along with a purple swelling under his eye.

“What happened?” You asked.

“None of your business.” He dismissed.

He was already having a bad day. He didn't need you to accidentally make it worse. Yet as always, you didn't seem to get the hint.

“Did you get into a fight?”

“I said it was none of your business.” He snapped before adding, “Not like I need another lecture today.” 

Keiko had chewed him out enough, and he still had his mom to deal with at home. And now you wanted to nag him too? Great. Just great.

He waited for the inevitable “How could you be so careless!” And, “What were you thinking!”

Instead he was met with silence.

He looked up and noticed your hurt expression before you turned to leave.

Instantly he started to panic.

For whatever reason, he couldn't stand to see you upset at him. You, who always had something to say with your dopey smile. Who always tried to help even if you didn't know how.

No, he didn't like your downcast expression at all.

So this time it was him stopping you.

“Hey! I didn't mean it like that…Look, I got jumped, okay? But I put those bastards in their place, so don't worry about it.” He decided to test his luck and hug you.

When you didn't tense up or pull away, he allowed himself to relax against you.

 “Let's just go home.” 

“Okay…Wait, does that mean we're having a sleepover?”

He gave a small laugh before grabbing your hand and leading you to his house.

Safe to say he's got a huge soft spot for you.

Your spirit awareness is even higher than Kuwabara’s.

You were probably the only person who could see Yusuke's ghost floating around after he died.

Asking him “why are you haunting my house?” 

He figures he might as well explain his situation, much to Botan's dismay. But when was he to ever care about the rules.

It's during that time he finally gets to see you fight.

10/10 your biggest cheerleader.

He'd asked you to watch over Kuwabara when the doofus had promised not to fight for a whole week.

You two got along well, which wasn't surprising considering you had not a single brain cell to spare for hostility.

It wasn't long before the two of you were cornered by a rival junior high gang. You'd told Kuwabara to run on ahead and that you'd catch up.

That was when the leader decided to run his mouth. What would inevitably be his undoing.

“Now that Urameshi’s dead, this turf is ripe for the taking.”

It was probably the first time Yusuke's ever seen you actually mad.

“What did you say?” 

One minute. That's all it took for you to beat the gang of seven.

Using one of them like a bowling ball and throwing him towards the rest of them.

All the while Yusuke is cheering in the background above you.

“Aim for the kneecaps! You got them, Y/n! Toss the bastard again!”

He's very proud of you. And his pride only swells when your strength grows along with his.

Joining the dark tournament and still kicking ass. Winning most of your matches with hardly a scratch. Except for Toguro. We don't talk about that shhhh!

Like I said he can get annoyed, but he usually puts up really well with your antics.

You call Kurama rose boy, not because of his powers, but because as you put it, “His hair’s the color of roses.”

It fits, but for the wrong reasons.

You steal Hiei's bandage around his eye, and Yusuke is practically fighting for his life to stop him from attacking you.

“You're supposed to look someone in the eyes when you talk to them. All your eyes.”

And he's crying trying to stop his laughter before Hiei sets his sights on him next.

You once mimicked his spirit gun with your hand and actually shot out a beam.

His mother never did let him live it down with the huge hole in the ceiling.

The realization he liked you wasn't some great build up or special moment. 

He just woke up one day and decided it was you. 

His reason for trying to be a little better as a person. Why he was fighting so hard during both tournaments. Why he was so willing to die in his battle with Sensui.

He doesn't get the chance to confess. No…You do it first.

Right after he'd won and became in control of his body after defeating Sensui, you wrapped your arms around him and kissed him.

Pressing your forehead softly to his.

“I'm so happy you're okay.”

Yusuke can get jealous, especially if the other person doesn't get the hint.

And if someone's flirting with you before you're together. 

He likes to glare over your shoulder until they get nervous and leave. Then he'll feign an innocent look when you turn around.

But if he's with people he trusts, he doesn't bat an eye. They know he'll throw down over your affections.

Yusuke can be romantic, but only when he really tires. Usually he prefers to tease you.

Expect to be called: babe, baby, sugar, hot stuff, and if he's feeling really vulnerable- sweetheart.

If he wants to be a menace to everyone around him he'll slip in a ‘pookiebear.’ But never unironically.

You know how he proposes to Keiko at the end of the series?

With you he knows a normal proposal won't work. So he just kinda puts the idea out there.

“You're gonna have to buy your own cups when we're married. It's getting harder and harder to find ones that fit with our house’s aesthetic.”

"We should have a beach house wedding, dont’cha think? Maybe Hiei will finally show up that way."

“Y/n? You mean my wife/husband? The love of my life?”

And it pays off.

You bring him a little box one day and tell him to open it.

Inside is a small gold ring.

“I found a ring so we can be married for real!” 😃

Yup, you're definitely the one. You and your small brain and big heart.

MASTERLIST

AN: I'm gonna try and balance out my hxh and yu yu hakusho fics so everyone eats good. 👀👀👀

[dontmindme-imjustfangirlin]

it's MY turn to share my ratgrinders theory

this has been stewing in my head for weeks and it has little to no support from what we've seen thus far but it speaks to me and may not be coherent but here it is. this got suuuper long so everything is under the cut.

what if the ratgrinders aren't evil or manipulative, what if they're just traumatized and in way over their heads and scared?

i just keep picturing them running in parallel to the bad kids' freshman year. just another group of six kids with powers and abilities they can't wait to learn to harness, to use; to make the world better and to help. arthur aguefort stands in front of them on the first day and tells them an adventurer is a violent wanderer. he romanticizes the adventure, the glory, the prestige. they go to their first classes, and kipperlilly sits two seats behind a goblin her height with a briefcase trying to hand out business cards with his phone number on them; hakinvar, oisin sits a row away from abernant, adaine in material components; ruben ducks his chin down to avoid his brotherdaduncle? henry and completely misses the tiefling girl stomping past the bard class door; mary ann boredly watches on as a half-orc three times her size sings at her barbarian instructor; ivy rolling her eyes when a braggart of a child cold-cocks a fellow freshman; lucy sits beside a redheaded girl who, in the rush of first-day jitters and habitually shielding her little brothers from her parents' vitriol, forgot to bring a pencil to class. of course lucy has one to spare.

i wonder how they met. who found whom first. if kipperlily, type-a and organized, presented everyone she met with a perfect four-year plan. day one to graduation laid out in color-coded sections, the school years broken down by quarter. maybe she found mary ann first, and mary ann went along with her because no one else had bothered to approach. ruben was two feet tall at best and could barely see over the crowd; he kept getting his feet stepped on until a frost genasi gently caught his wrist and healed his bruises with a soft burst of chilly, bracing wind. oisin's horns caught on ivy's bow as they passed by, and he apologized so profusely and earnestly she could only laugh. maybe kipperlily and ivy went to the same middle school, and kipperlily was so excited to see a familiar face she marched right up to her and oisin. maybe lucy noticed the strawberry plush keychain swinging from mary ann's backpack and approached to tell her how much she loved it. she had a matching watermelon, you see. they laughed, hopeful, right there on the sunny turf of the bloodrush field. they decided to call themselves the high-five heroes.

they were so excited to take on the world. they thought they were ready. and then the screaming started.

they'd been at school for less than a day, and the cafeteria was destroyed. the half-orc mary ann watched disinterestedly had been killed. the redheaded cleric lucy gave that pencil had died, too, blood staining the wood of the no.2. the lunch lady who smiled at ivy despite the grimace on her face had been killed. the counselor who said "welcome to aguefort" to oisin with a calming smile had been killed - murdered - by their principal, who immediately took his own life as well in order to bring the two students back.

an adventurer is a violent wanderer. but death and violence found them without warning, and without much wandering at all. the world was a vast and dangerous place. kids died on the tiled floor where they ate lunch. girls were going missing; the most recent one to go missing, penny luckstone, bore a terrifying resemblance to kipperlily.

the far haven woods were not very far at all, but they were safe. they were close to home. they stomped on rats and small elementals and this was not the glory they dreamed of, the rush of adventure or the thrill of wandering this vast world. this was not making the world better. but then even home was not safe anymore. the coach of the bloodrush team pulled half his athletes into a cult and tried to kill their fellow classmates. their assistant principal ended up being an evil dragon and defeated by the aptly named bad kids.

the bad kids, who for their part spent their freshman year murdering people in car chases, doing sick kickflips in abandoned mithral mines, releasing devils from gemstones, tearing up arcades, getting themselves arrested, and saving the missing girls and the world. as sophomore year rolled around, maybe the high-five heroes looked at each other and thought, surely we can do that. they thought they were ready.

their path hadn't been a glorious one, but they grew stronger nevertheless. mary ann never grew taller, but whenever she flew into a rage, she was scrappy and fierce and relentless. ivy's arrows always flew true. oisin bolstered their numbers with fey, elementals, constructs, once even the faded visage of one of his draconic ancestors. kipperlily ducked and wove between rats and put them down with quick slices, so rapid and humane they never felt them. ruben tuned his guitar to folksy ballads and inspired them to imagine they could be more than rat exterminators in the forest behind the school. and dear, sweet lucy, their glue, who kept them safe and healed their wounds.

sophomore year included a project worth a whopping sixty percent of their grade. this did not surprised the high-five heroes like it did the bad kids. preparations for this were baked into kipperlily's plans from the first day of school. ideas for projects were tacked up on her bulletin board and home and in sticky notes in all her binders. i wonder if the high-five heroes really cared what they did, just so long as it was something more that indiscriminately killing rats in the woods. lucy was a cleric; surely she heard whispers of the forgotten one, the god of giants whose name was stricken from the giants' records. maybe the name was hidden so well she had no idea why this god was one best left forgotten. maybe she thought even gods of rage deserved redemption, kindness, a second chance.

sophomore year flew by in a blaze of research and magic. oisin and kipperlily spent long nights in the library and on a rotating series of floors reading tomes of religious history. lucy prayed and communed with her goddess for information, snuck ancient giant texts out of the library and translated them for all to read. ivy and ruben weren't scholars, but their suggestions were occam's razor slicing through thousands of dusty pages of arcane theory and religious treatise. the simplest explanation is likely the right one. mary ann was as quiet as ever, but after long nights of reading, the high-five heroes would awake under soft, fluffy blankets, a plush nestled right up beside them.

when did things start to go wrong? when did ruben's lyrics take a turn to the dark and angry, the romanticizing of self-harm? when did kipperlily go cold and controlling, her thin-lipped smile an iron veneer over anything beneath? when did ivy's attitude turn disinterested and condescending? when did mary ann go into a rage and sneer, all teeth and claws? when did lucy realize they had passed a point of no return and return to the woods to revive the rats they killed, a small penance only she could offer?

what happened that night in the forest? the night lucy died? was it a ritual gone wrong, the culmination of a year of research trying to contact a dead god? was it a channeling or communion turned possession? something dark and evil came to the far haven woods that night. it took their dearest friend from them. was it a rage, this god possessing lucy and forcing the rest of the high-five heroes' hands? was it a gambit, the giant god of rage returning to snatch lucy's soul from her body as collateral?

learn my name, the god whispered that dark night. bring me back, and i will bring her back. you need my name to get her back.

they thought they were ready. they were so, so wrong.

what else could they do? where could they go? they could hardly tell anyone they killed their cleric trying to contact a dead god. arthur aguefort may have helped, but he is gone, running amok across time with his daughter. principal grix would disintegrate them all if he knew what they were doing.

maybe this, too, is where the ratgrinders' (or at least kipperlily's) disdain for the bad kids comes from. when two of their number died, arthur aguefort killed both a teacher and himself to bring them back. he stopped time for half a day to let them rest and defeat the dragon kalvaxus. he smoothed everything over after the bad kids broke out of jail. he risked war with a neighboring country - the second in as many years - because one of his students was detained illegally. the ratgrinders had none of the bad kids' chances or resources or connections. for the long, dark summer of no sun, that resentment festered. they needed a plan to get her back. kipperlily likes to make plans, and she has friends - angry, traumatized, terrified friends - ready to do whatever it took to get lucy back.

maybe the ratgrinders weren't ready before, but for lucy, they would do anything.

i just. do you see my vision?

[cheesus-doodles]

I read your Being childhood friends with Baji fic and it was amazing! Could you do one where they find out he’s in Toman by kidnapped by a gang to lure him out. You can choose what gang will reveal his big bad secret.

thank you anon! sorry it took so long to get back to your ask :') wasn't really feeling this one but i hope you like it!

Link to childhood BFF Baji HCs

Masterlist

‎‎

Oof, I would say that if there is any one particular gang that would be incentivised to drag you into the dark world of delinquency, it would probably be the ninth generation Black Dragons. They would already know about Kazutora, given how he lives in their turf, and a bit more digging would easily reveal Baji's connection to Kazutora and the newly founded Tokyo Manji Gang. And from there, with a little bit of stalking, they would find out about you.

Clear as day, you stood out like a sore thumb as Baji's biggest weakness - all it took was a glance to know that you were nothing more than a regular school-going kid who was as far from being a delinquent as the moon was from Earth, and that Baji was a big cheese around you. And so the Ninth Generation Black Dragons would scheme and plot to find the best way to use you against Baji, lure the First Division commander out seperately and settle him first before turning on the rest of Toman - it would be much easier if there was one less person to fight.

The sheer panic that rushes through Baji's head when, at the end of one school day, he comes round to pick you up from your classroom as he always does, only to find you missing. You would never leave school without your best friend - as Baji had insisted time and time again "for your safety" - and that could only mean one thing; this black-haired baby boy shaking down your classmates, shouting at them and demanding answers as to where you went, who you left with. Face pale when the description starts to match what Kazutora told him, Mikey and the rest of Toman, and then it came out that they had even left a note behind - it was the Black Dragons. They had to be the ones behind this.

No doubt Baji would like nothing more to rush off and find them and find you and beat the living shit out of them. His heart pounding out of his chest, his brain nothing but turmoil. But on the outside, he looks calm. Almost eerily calm. Puts the classmate he had grabbed by the collar of their uniform back down, and then just walks off without another word. Autopilots as he wanders the street, thinking what his next move should be, his mind screaming at him to go and rescue you this instance, that who knows what those dirty bastards could be doing to you.

Instead, for once, the First Division Captain decides to do the rational thing and call up Mikey and the others to explain what had happened. The note had warned for Baji to come alone, but with you and your safety on the line, there was no room for error. Wasn't hard to track you down - Toman was already familiar with where the Black Dragons' territory was, and from there deduce where they could be holding you (this baby boy could be smart when he needs to be).

‎‎

And as much as Baji hated to let you see him as anything but that caring, protective childhood friend, desperate times call for desperate measures. The fear that you would be scared of him, that you wouldn't want to be friends anymore if you saw him fight, was paralyzing, but the rest of the Toman founders assured him that they would help out. You were no doubt surprised to see Baji come flying in along side the other five Toman founders through the door of the place where these delinquents were holding you captive, your jaw dropping open as you watched your best friend's fist sock the jaw of one of your captors, the crack of bone loud and clear.

Sure you had been kidnapped, tricked into leaving your school with someone who claimed that Baji sent him, but to be fair they hadn't done anything to you but tie you up to make sure you didn't make a break for it. One of the delinquent boys was even nice enough to make a cup of tea for you when you asked. You had never thought of Baji as a fighter, even though you knew he was part of a 'gang' of some sorts, so suddenly being confronted with the fact that your childhood friend was capable of such violence? In that moment, it was clear that this force of nature wasn’t Kei-chan, the gruff, good-natured, and girl-shy boy you grew up with. No, this was Baji Keisuke, the Tokyo Manji Gang’s First Division Captain. It was certainly an eye-opening moment when you pieced together everything you knew and learned.

There definitely comes a point when you do start to fear the boy you thought you knew, when you caught sight of that predatory glint flaring up in Baji's eyes as he lets his anger out on these Ninth Generation Black Dragon delinquents, positively hissing that they have no right to drag you into this world, and that they should have kept their filthy hands off of you. Finally, when all the beating and bashing is done and the defeated gang are left sprawled across the floor does this boy comes crawling back to you, complete with the imaginary perked up ears and wagging tail, just so happy to see that you were safe and unharmed. Only to have his heart immediately shattered when you flinch as he approached you to free you from your restraints. No doubt tears start to well in his eyes as his stomach drops - you were scared of him? You couldn’t even meet Baji’s gaze, frightened of seeing that savage look again.

All you wanted to leave and be alone.

Baji had expected it to a degree, that showing you his violent, protective side would scare you; but he had expected that you would quickly come round to it. After all, he had just shown you to what extent he would go to keep you safe. This baby boy wanted to ask if you were okay, to tell you that you were safe and everything would be fine, to beg you to look at him, but all that came out was a whimper. Which is when the rest of the Toman founders would jump in. Obviously, they couldn't leave their heartbroken friend to wither by himself - Mikey, Draken and the others would take their payment from Baji in endless teasing about being lovesick later.

‎‎

Mitsuya and Pah would stop you from leaving, leading you to sit back down somewhere more comfortable with almost uncharacteristic gentleness, while Mikey and Kazutora would outright lie. Swears up and down that Baji wasn't a real delinquent, didn't regularly fight, and that they had never seen him so vicious - must have been because you were involved. And then Draken would encourage you to give Baji a chance after buying you a new drink to replace that tea, listen to your friend's side and what he had to say, even guilt tripping you into "seeing just how sad" the very down black-haired boy was. Would let you go after playing with your emotions and making you feel bad for doing so, but none of the Toman boys would be letting you out of their sights just yet.

Just because Baji was too sad to stalk you like he usually did doesn't mean his friends wouldn't step up to the plate. Making sure that you were at school and safe from bullies, that you weren't attempting to make other friends, they just generally helped to keep an eye on you while Baji pulled himself together (which he eventually does after good hard slap to the back of the head from an irate Draken).

This baby boy even buys you flowers and chocolates just to apologise for scaring you after getting a good earful from his mum, and despite your apprehension, you eventually start believing the lies. Would take you to formerly introduce you to all his friends, and as expected, turns absolutely red when Mitsuya teasingly asked if you two were dating. Maybe it was just because you wanted your best friend back, maybe it was how convincing Baji and his friends were, or maybe it was just how nice everyone seemed and that you couldn't imagine any of them as delinquents, but you were happy to be back together with Baji once more.

Swears to himself to step up your protection even further - which means more stalking, more regular beatings, and more preemptive beatings of anyone who is even the mildest threat - because Baji cannot afford to let you get dragged back into his dark underworld again. Doesn't know what he'll do if you leave him for good.

[raineandsky]

#63

tw: guns

The hero didn’t know that the receptionists at the agency had guns. He learns this fact incredibly fast when the villain wanders through the main doors to find several barrels aimed at her chest.

The hero’s on his feet immediately. “You shouldn’t be here,” is the stupid statement that comes out in the confusion. The villain throws him a lopsided smile, unbothered, as she puts her hands up in surrender.

“So where would you suggest I be?” she asks lazily.

The jail in the basement, obviously. The hero wastes no time marching her downstairs, and the villain is quite happy to trail along with him in cuffs. “Ooh, did you revamp in here?” she questions once they get downstairs.

“I think they might’ve redone the walls,” the hero tells her, and carelessly throws her into the cell to admire the paintwork.

Two hours later, he’s in the interrogation room on the superhero’s instruction, opposite the villain. She looks positively ecstatic to see him.

“Do I get a lollipop for cooperation?” she asks sweetly, and the hero scowls.

“No.”

“Aw, shame.” The villain leans back in her seat, obnoxiously more relaxed as a prisoner than her interrogator. “I’m sure your boss would love to hear all my secrets, huh?”

If looks could kill, the villain would be naught but ash. “I’m sure,” he says through gritted teeth, “but we’re going to focus on what he’s asked for, okay?”

The villain shrugs idly. “I imagine he’s got some real head scratchers.”

The villain’s working in a network, nothing the agency didn’t already know. Her co-workers, as she so lovingly calls them, are hiding all over the city. They have turf, different areas each villain is in control of. The supervillain watches over all of them, keeping them in check, running operations, from a secret spot somewhere in the hubbub of the city. She laughs when the hero presses for a location.

��Ah, that’s the one secret I can’t give away.” She gives him a cat-like grin that is frankly unnerving. “You’ll need better questions than that to get anything juicy.”

The superhero’s happy after an hour, and he trusts the hero to throw the villain back into her cell. The hero turns off halfway there, shoving her into a corner where no one can see them.

“What is wrong with you?” the hero hisses once they’re out of sight. His hand is anxiously tight on her arm. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was under the impression I was being interrogated,” the villain says with an innocent frown.

“You walked through the front doors,” he points out savagely. “Why– why are you risking this? You have as much to lose as I do.”

The villain tuts like he’s disappointed her. “Yeah, no, I don’t have shit to lose. You, however…”

She hums thoughtfully, and the hero looks impressively distraught at her nonchalance. “You could– we could lose everything if anyone finds out, [Villain]. We agreed we wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“I haven’t told anyone,” she defends lightly, and the hero recognises that smug smirk on her face. She’s playing a game he could never hope to win. “Not my fault if someone figures it out on their own. You don’t help yourself when you act so obviously agitated.”

“I’m not—” The hero forces a deep breath that does nothing to settle his nerves. “We have to do this together, like we promised. We only have each other to do this.”

“You only have me,” the villain corrects slyly, and her smirk only gets more elated at his horrified confusion. “I know how to make a plan b, unlike you.”

The hero’s mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. “We’re supposed to help each other.”

“And I’m getting close to helping myself.” The villain wriggles her arm out of his ever-tightening grip, pushing past the hero with a content sigh and starting on her own way back to the basement. Her heels echo damningly against the pristine tile.

“I put it in his head that something was happening between us long before I got here,” she continues brightly. “I suggest you find your way out before I say too much to [Superhero], huh?”

[grandmother-goblin]

Field Study - Chapter 4

Ao3 - Masterlist

Chapter Summary: In an attempt to fight off the feelings that stir within him whenever he was around Cas, Astarion wanders off into Ethel's swamp alone and nearly loses his newfound freedom.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.

Word Count: 5.1k

Chapter Tags: Canon-typical violence, Astarion has something like a panic attack, hand holding, kissing.

Mercifully, mosquitoes seemed to have little interest in vampire blood. They were far more interested in Wyll than anyone one else, which eventually resulted in the warlock simply applying frost armor to himself and watching the bloodsuckers fly happily to their icy graves. Astarion wished he could do the same, given how the tiny pests kept buzzing around his ears like a jewelry merchant working on commission, their sales pitch to those with sensitive ears was almost as bad as their bite.

They weren’t even in Auntie Ethel’s magically beautified swamp anymore; the illusion wore off the second Shadowheart took one look at those bloody sheep. Perhaps if the illusion had stayed, the mosquitos would stop harassing them. Leave it to a hag to disguise a fetid bog as some idyllic wetland.

Oh. That was another fun revelation: Auntie Ethel was a hag.

Not in the withered-old-crone-who-fights-pigeons-over-breadcrumbs way (though that may have been true as well), but in the way she was a dangerous Fey creature that no one in their right mind should mess with. Especially not on the hag’s own turf.

Apparently, Cas did not get that memo.

Either that or she was quite out of her mind.

The discovery of Ethel’s true nature did not seem to bother Cas even the slightest. It was almost like she already knew. Just like she did when Astarion confirmed her suspicions about his condition those nights ago. Suspicions even the Blade of Frontiers did not voice aloud. Though no one said a word, Astarion knew Shadowheart and Wyll thinking the same thing he was: Cas was hiding something.

As for what that something was, he had no idea. Whatever it was, Astarion became more and more convinced that Cas was not just some ranger from Neverwinter like she had claimed. Even if the others thought she was lacking in general intelligence, there was an undeniable, quiet wisdom in which she carried herself. Calm and experienced. The kind of knowledge that couldn’t come from books or a classroom.

An hour had passed since Astarion and Cas took over night watch. In order to keep two people on guard in their temporary camp, Astarion and Cas took their meditation early so Shadowheart and Wyll could get at least six hours of uninterrupted sleep. It was a long night shift, but it seemed like the best option. They all needed to be well rested in case their meeting with Auntie Ethel went sideways.

Plus, it meant Astarion got some alone time with Cas.

Moonlight seeped through the canopy of leaves above where they rested, providing their sole source of light. A campfire was too risky. Although they chose their temporary camping ground wisely, they simply did not know the area well enough to forgo any extra precautions. Hence the double guard duty.

Though it would have been far more effective for Cas and Astarion to stand watch on opposite ends of the camp, they found themselves drawn together before long. Long conversations under the moon and stars had started to become their thing. They did not have any wine with them, but he could think of more than a few ways to make up for that.

With his chin resting on her shoulder, he wrapped an arm around her and traced tantalizing circles around her hip with his thumb, watching with quiet fascination as she worked on her field journal. A pencil drawing of the tadpole, almost exactly as he remembered it, emerged from the page with all its horrifying glory. By all accounts, it was beautiful artwork despite the subject matter. The colors she chose were ones he wouldn’t have expected, but they worked in harmony to bring out a lifelike quality in the work. Each line was precise, purposeful, and Astarion found himself deeply enthralled in the process.

Astarion brought a finger to the corner of the page, far from the bulk of the artwork. “You draw stuff like this for a living, right?” he asked. “For your vampire friend’s research.”

Cas gave an affirmative hum. “Whenever Eroc or my brother need illustrations for their work.”

“And their work involves creatures like this?” He tapped the drawing of the tadpole in the center of its razorsharp maw.

A shiver went down his spine. That thing, and its teeth, still lurked in his skull. Waiting. If it could see the drawing, perhaps it would be flattered enough to let them live. Unlikely, but the idea of the tadpole having a thimble of vanity almost made him smile.

“This is the sort of stuff they’d be interested in.” Cas swiped her palm lightly over the page, dusting away any debris her pencils might have left behind. “But no. Not this specifically.”

Deciding he no longer wanted to dwell on the beast, Astarion averted his gaze to Cas’s neck where his twin puncture wounds were still proudly on display. All purple and red against her rich copper skin. The sight of it filled him with a surge of primitive pride. Marking his territory, as it were. Any man, woman, or vampire would think twice before encroaching on her.

His lips skated carefully over the bruise, earning a soft but surprised gasp and a trail of goosebumps in his wake. The hand on her hip slipped just beneath her tunic, where soft skin pressed into his touch. With a rakish grin he asked, “Do you ever draw nudes?”

A puff of laughter escaped her lips. A delightful sound that made his stomach flutter for reasons he did not want to think about. “Are you volunteering?” She set the journal aside and leaned further into his touch. Their bodies melded together from shoulder to thigh like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Only if you’re naked too, my dear,” he teased, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke.

Cas smiled as she let her head rest against his shoulder and he could smell the faintest hint of lavender in her hair. Quietly, she picked up his hand in hers, her thumb tickling the center of his palm as she studied it.

Astarion furrowed his brow. “What are you doing?”

“You have nice hands,” she said and then she laughed. “Is it terribly dull of me that I would rather draw your hands than a nude?”

No. Not at all. He actually found himself rather curious about what those drawings would look like. Not that he would admit it. “You know, there are plenty of people who’d die for the opportunity to get me naked,” he said instead.

In fact, plenty of people had. Gods. He didn’t even want to think about it more than he had to.

She bumped him good-naturedly and said with a little laugh, “I’m not that desperate.”

Part of him thought to bring up how eager she had been the other night in his tent, but he didn’t want to risk embarrassing her. Not only that, but he had just realized something: he and Cas had been sitting together for almost an hour. Touching. Yet she didn’t make any move on him save for touching his hand.

In fact, when he listened for her heartbeat he found that it was calm. Cas was entirely relaxed sitting next to him. No flutters of anticipation, no changes to her breathing. Hells, she barely reacted when he had kissed her neck.

Most people he seduced would have taken that opportunity and run with it.

But Cas seemed perfectly happy just chatting with him.

He swallowed as a pang of something rattled in his chest. Something warm, pleasant, and safe that his body desperately tried to shut down with every bit of coldness it could muster. When the warmth dissipated, so did the icy fear, leaving behind that comfortable and familiar numbness.

Perhaps he needed a bit of space. Just a bit of time to himself so the feeling didn’t threaten to come back.

Astarion cleared his throat and sat Cas upright so he didn’t topple her over when he stood. “It’s been a while since we last did a patrol,” he said, just to give himself an excuse. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, no,” he said before she could get to her feet. “You did the last one. It’s my turn.”

Cas frowned, a mixture of confusion and concern on her face. “Okay.” She drew out the word and averted her gaze, seeming almost embarrassed. “Just don’t stray too far. There might be worse than redcaps out there.”

He brushed off her concern and excused himself, leaving her looking a bit like a kicked puppy, but he couldn’t bring himself to dwell on it. He had to get a bit of air. Just a moment to himself to get his emotions under control.

What in the Hells was wrong with him? Cas was nothing more than a pretty face. He had spent time with hundreds of beautiful people over the centuries. Those people, however, did not cause damn butterflies in his stomach.

It almost felt like he had an actual friend in Cas. Like she didn’t see him as something to be used. But he knew better than to get his hopes up. Chances were that Cas was just like everyone else. She just hadn’t revealed her true colors yet.

He needed to get a grip and focus on the task at hand: patrolling the outskirts of their secluded campsite.

Before they went to sleep, Shadowheart and Wyll mentioned that the campground seemed quiet and secure. So far, nothing proved them wrong. Crickets chirped and an owl hooted somewhere in the distance. Active animals were always a good sign. It was when things got quiet that there was reason to worry. About a hundred meters away from the campsite he started again on the path he walked at the beginning of his shift, listening for any suspicious noises and watching for shadows. The night was blissfully calm and gave him some space to think.

Astarion ran his hands through his hair and laced them behind his neck, releasing a long breath between his lips. From the first time he laid eyes on Cas, he was physically attracted to her. That much was undeniable. He’d been with plenty of gorgeous people. Most of which he never had the luxury of getting to know. The chance of any of his relationships (if one could even call them that) turning into something more was always an impossibility.

Cazador would end it, one way or another.

With a grimace, Astarion recalled a sweet young man he had tried to spare and how Cazador punished him for it. Any sort of attachment always came at a cost higher than Astarion was willing to pay.

It simply wasn’t worth the risk.

But for the first time in centuries, Astarion had the chance at something real. An actual relationship that meant something more than a meal for his master. A relationship he could damage so easily if he wasn’t careful.

Astarion didn’t want to lose Cas’s trust or, dare he say, friendship. He didn’t want to hurt the first person in centuries who actually seemed to give a damn about him. Who asked about his day, who cared about his thoughts, wanted to know his feelings, and took extra steps to ensure he was okay. He liked having someone care about him. But it scared the shit out of him. It was only a matter of time before Cazador ripped it away just like he did everything else.

Dousing the fire that ignited in the pit of his stomach whenever he saw Cas was the smart thing to do. But as much as he tried, he didn’t think he could do that. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to. After tasting her blood, tasting her lips and the salt of her skin, he was fairly certain that fire in him would implode before burning out.

Astarion stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried to focus on his surroundings, but that focus quickly returned to the muddled mess in his mind. Cas was supposed to be just like any other target he had seduced. She just had to fall for him, and he had to somehow stop whatever feelings she stirred within him.

Had he not been so caught up in his own head, he might have heard it. The whisper of a spell, or the shuffling of dirt beneath the caster’s feet. A chilling sensation struck him in the middle of his chest, spreading through each and every vein from the tops of his ears to the tips of his toes.

The ice in his stomach wasn’t just the result of magic. It was from the cold realization that he could not move.

Fear crept and coiled around him like a venomous snake. With every ounce of willpower he had, he begged his body to move, to do something, before it could strike. But it was as if his body had betrayed him, under the command of another. Panic seized his heart.

No.

No, it couldn’t be Cazador. Cazador would never trek so far from Baldur’s Gate. And his control felt nothing like the magic that enveloped him now.

Footsteps approached from his right and a stocky, disheveled, man appeared in his periphery.

A Gur.

Of course it was a fucking Gur.

“With how smoothly that went, you’d think I was the Huntsman of Neverwinter,” the Gur said, his voice deep and jovial. “Old man Gandrel could take a few pointers, eh?”

If Astarion could use his tongue, he’d make some comment about how adorable it was that the Gur thought he was even a speck of dirt compared to the greatest monster hunter in recent history. Still, he tucked the nugget of knowledge away. The Gur was overconfident, that much was clear, and overconfident people tended to make mistakes.

The Gur pulled out a length of rope and manipulated Astarion’s hands behind his back. “Holding spell always makes this part a bit easier,” he said conversationally as the rough rope bit into Astarion’s skin. “Unfortunately, it won’t hold long enough to get you back to Baldur’s Gate, but that’s what old fashioned rope is for.” With a grunt, the Gur tied off the rope and somehow made the binding impossibly tighter.

The feeling in Astarion’s fingers was already fading when the Gur came around to his front, finally looking his prey in the eyes. Astarion willed his body to do something, to spit in his face or throw a punch. The holding spell held firm. Heat built behind his eyes and white-hot rage dripped from his throat to his stomach.

Not like this.

Not again.

With a sympathetic tilt of his head, the Gur produced a wooden dowel with leather straps on either side. A bit. To keep him from screaming. “It’s nothing personal, Astarion. Almost feel bad taking you away from your friends because you won’t find such pleasant company where we—”

An arrow ripped away the rest of the sentence as it tore through the Gur’s cheeks clear to the other side. Then a second arrow pierced the man’s skull in silent fury.

The holding spell released so suddenly that Astarion fell to his knees like a child’s discarded rag doll. Mere feet away from him, the Gur collapsed, eyes open and unblinking as blood dripped from the metal arrowheads.

Cas called his name breathlessly. Her bow clacked against the arrows in her hands as she rushed to his side, practically skidding to a stop in front of him. She pulled the dagger from her hip and sliced through the rope like she had done it a dozen times before. When the ropes fell away, she checked him over with careful yet efficient hands, feeling for injuries in his vital areas. Then she knelt in front of him with her eyes wide and wet.

Words were tumbling out of her mouth, question after question, but Astarion could not bring himself to focus on them. Nor could he bring himself to answer.

Just like that, he was almost captured. No warning, no time to prepare. His freedom, gone in the blink of an eye. Not just a reminder but a remembrance of his past life, like his mortality stolen once more with false promises. Images of blood, the face of a wicked devil…

No, things were different from before.

Cas had come to his rescue. And she was the furthest thing from a devil.

There was a ringing somewhere in the depths of his ears so loud it was nauseating. The cruel smiles from his longtime sadistic master did not rule over him at this very moment, though the scars from years of abuse and neglect screamed as if ripped anew.

The worry in Cas’s deep brown eyes quieted his internal storm. He began to take calming breaths, trying to make sense of these swirling emotions that felt vaster than any damnable ocean. He couldn’t make sense of the movement of her mouth as he focused on the light freckles dusting her cheeks.

Like the blood spattered across the ground, small specks of himself were all that were left from his last encounter with a Gur. Nothing could truly compare to the night Cazador “rescued” him. Yet it was the only comparison he had to draw from. For better or worse, the only reason Astarion walked the mortal planes was due to Cazador.

Cazador was the only person who had ever tried to “save” him.

Until Cas.

He felt her trembling fingers, ghosting over his cheekbones, as the warmth from her palms settled into either side of his face. Gentle. Caring. Greater concern welled in the depths of her pupils as she brushed the pad of her thumb across his clammy skin.

“What can I do to help?” Cas asked, the stark calm in her voice reducing the deafening alarm in his ear to a niggling warble. She repeated the question but her words drowned in the torrent of emotions cascading through his mind.

If Cas hadn’t shown up when she had… Astarion pushed the bombardment of dark memories aside that had tormented him for decades, drowning them out with Cas’s light. Based on what the Gur had confided, bringing him back to Baldur’s Gate alive meant the only thing awaiting him was a fate worse than death. Numbly, Astarion wrapped his fingers around Cas’s wrist, feeling her steady pulse beneath his fingertips, willing his own heart to fall in beat with her metronome.

“Please say something?” Cas laced her fingers with his. “Just so I know that whatever spell he used is completely worn off.”

Closing his eyes, he took another deep breath. “Thank you,” he said. And for the first time in centuries, he truly meant it. Words would never be enough for what she just did for him, but at the moment, they were the only thing he could give.

A small smile spread across her pretty lips and she threw her arms around him. The scent of her leathers couldn’t completely mask the metallic smell of blood, but it helped ground him. With Cas’s arms around him, he felt… almost safe. But feeling something and knowing something were different things entirely.

As long as Cazador was around, he would never be safe. And neither would she.

“I’m so happy you’re okay,” she said, her voice muffled in the fabric of his shirt. “If you had just disappeared like that I— I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

“Look for me, I hope.” He tried to make the words sound lighthearted, like the past ten minutes were nothing more than dust in the wind, but his voice betrayed him with a crack.

Damn it.

Without even thinking, Astarion wrapped his arms around her and buried his face into the crook of her neck. The warmth of her body and her even breaths provided comfort he never would admit to needing.

Astarion wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. It could have been a few seconds or maybe even a minute before he forced himself to let go. Hugging wasn’t something he normally did. At least, not without a goal in mind. Certainly never for comfort.

A bloom of unfamiliar warmth grew in his chest. It felt… nice to be cared for. It wasn’t a feeling he could ever allow himself to get used to. It was temporary. Just like Cas.

He had to remember that.

Cas gave his shoulders a friendly squeeze before she let him go and said, “We should search the body and head back to camp.”

Instead of saying anything, he just nodded numbly.

They didn’t find much on the body besides hunting supplies. No note. Nothing to identify the man by and nothing to give them any clue who had sent him after Astarion. Though deep in his gut, Astarion suspected he knew exactly who would have sent a Gur after him. Cazador probably found the idea hilarious, given his history.

He and Cas patrolled the remainder of the perimeter together in silence. Astarion simply didn’t know what to say. What words could possibly suffice for what Cas did for him that night? Protecting him without a hint of hesitation, killing a man for him. It wasn’t something anyone had done for him before.

Even with a bit of time and distance from his encounter with the Gur, adrenaline pounded in his veins with nowhere to go. Fight or flight, he did not get either option. However, his body did not seem to get the memo. It was as if it was still waiting for something else to happen. Another monster hunter, a mind flayer, some threat bigger than an owl hooting away in a nearby tree. But the night was calm once again, even if Astarion wasn’t.

When Cas turned to go back to the campsite, he found himself reaching for her hand. For whatever reason, he wasn’t ready to go back. Wasn’t ready to sit at camp with nothing but his thoughts and quiet conversation. Not when everything in his head was still so loud. Not when his body still did not feel like his own. He didn’t want to be around people who were just waiting for a reason to turn on him just for what he was.

Cas raised a brow at him, but did not retreat from his touch. “Is everything okay?”

He owed her. He owed her more than she could ever possibly comprehend. And he didn’t like to be indebted to people. Especially when he didn’t know what the payment would be when it came due.

Yet the last time he had offered to repay her, she told him that he didn’t owe her anything. Past experiences told him not to believe her, but he certainly couldn’t let her know that. He also knew better than to put the offer out there again. It would not do him any good considering how she had rebuffed the suggestion of a quid pro quo before. In fact, she might even find the idea insulting.

Most polite people didn’t like the idea of exchanging favors for sex. Or at the very least, they didn’t like it when it was stated so plainly.

Astarion placed his hands on her hips and turned her towards him. “I don’t want to go back to camp just yet, darling,” he said and stepped in close to her, forcing her to tilt her head back to look up at him. “I just want to be alone with you for a little while longer.”

Cas rolled her lips and glanced towards the tents in the distance. “We’d be alone at camp,” she said. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

The response was so innocent, it almost made him laugh. “No, my sweet.” His hand drifted from her hip down to the swell of her backside and his lips brushed over hers when he spoke. “I just want a moment with you.”

Just with Cas. Cas had somehow become a calming presence in his life. Someone who accepted him completely for what he was. Maybe even for who he was.

Whatever he had with Cas wasn’t something he wanted to just let slip away. He wanted her reasons that went beyond wanting to pay a debt, perhaps even beyond the protection she could provide him.

He was actually kind of fond of her.

And he was beginning to believe that she might be fond of him as well.

He tucked a finger under her chin and tilted her face close to his, her breath was warm against his lips and the inches between their mouths was reduced to a paper-thin sliver. “Stay with me.”

Just a moment for the two of them. With the woman who stirred some long dormant feelings back to life. With the woman who saved him. The woman he couldn’t dare let himself fall for; no matter how she made his heart pound against its cage.

Slowly, he closed the distance between them as he covered her lips with his own. A soft groan filled the air as her hands fisted the fabric of his shirt, her smaller frame pressed tightly along his front. Each breath they shared quieted the mess within his mind, and he found himself lost in the sweetness of her mouth.

Overcome with the need to get closer, to feel more of her, he lifted her against him just long enough to walk her backwards to a nearby tree. The sounds of night that enveloped them, crickets chirping and the cool breeze rustling leaves, faded as he claimed her mouth with his.

Kissing her was as sinful as it was saccharine. Her lips were lush, indulgent, and demanding all at once. His fingers tightened in her hair as her tongue licked into his mouth, igniting a fire low in his belly. A fire that had been present ever since their first kiss but laid waiting to be coaxed to a blaze.

More than anything, the kiss was pure. Honest. Like nothing he had experienced before, yet the solace brought by her lips overpowered the fear that accompanied every good feeling he had. Her arms wrapped around him, pressing their bodies so close he could feel her pulse, her every breath, the swell of her breasts and the sensual heat gathering between their bodies.

The need to get closer turned desperate, but the comfort she provided never abated. His teeth, his fangs, grazed her lower lip, careful enough not to break the skin but by no means gentle. The soft moan in her throat told him all he needed to know. She trusted him. Even with his fangs against her skin, playing on the edge of biting her, she trusted him.

It was too much.

Cas rolled her hips, the delicious friction against his hardened length teasing him. Just a few layers of clothing were all that stood between him pressing inside her, and she knew it. Her slender, demanding, fingers slipped into the waistband of his trousers and tried to pull him impossibly closer. Like being pressed up against a tree beneath him didn’t quite satisfy her.

It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough and it was too much all at once. The pounding of that pesky organ in his chest, the hot flush on his cheeks, the fire in his belly… he actually wanted this.

When was the last time he had wanted to take someone to bed? He had been on his back thousands of times, faces and names a blur, just forcing himself to get the job done. To do Cazador’s bidding in whatever way the bastard wanted.

His own wants, his enjoyment, never even factored into it. Sex was just one of the few weapons he had at his disposal. It was about doing what he had to to survive.

But with Cas, it wasn’t about survival. It was something else entirely.

“What’s wrong?” Cas’s voice broke through his thoughts and her hand cupped his face. “Do you want to stop?”

It was only then he realized that his hands had frozen where they had gripped her thighs. In fact, he didn’t even remember wrapping her legs around his hips. Or did she do that?

Normally when his mind drifted off someplace else similar situations, he body went on autopilot. It was all muscle memory. But he never froze.

What in the Hells was wrong with him?

Astarion shook his head. Under most circumstances, he would have been relieved to stop. But at that moment, stopping was the very last thing he wanted to do. Instead, his traitorous mouth said, “We probably should.”

Not because of her, yet it was completely because of her. Out of all the people he had been with over the centuries, none brought anything other than a sense of self-loathing and disgust. But it was different with Cas and it scared the shit out of him.

Of course, he would never tell her that.

“If we continue, I’ll have a hard time stopping myself from getting another taste,” he mumbled the lie into the crook of her neck, inhaling that scent that was uniquely Cas. Like leather and lavender, feral and feminine. He covered a pulse point on her neck with his lips and nipped the skin. Just hard enough that it would leave a little bruise and he couldn’t help but laugh when she returned the favor.

With one more kiss, she detached herself from him. No insistence to continue. No shame. No insults to his masculinity. “I understand,” she said with a sweet and sincere smile. “You do what you need to do.”

Astarion took a step back lest he act on his sudden impulse to kiss her again. It wasn’t the right time. As much as his body craved to feel every last inch of her, he couldn’t with his current state of mind.

Stopping was the right thing to do.

“I should probably find something to sink my fangs into,” he said as he shoved his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to reach out to her again. “Will you be alright watching the camp while I hunt? It shouldn’t take long.”

The idea of going off by himself after everything that happened that night didn’t appeal to him, but being alone was far less frightening than confronting whatever feelings being around Cas stirred up.

Cas didn’t seem to like the idea either judging by the crease that appeared between her brows. But she nodded. “Be careful,” she said. “I’ll be waiting for you back at camp.”

Resisting the urge to pull her into another kiss, Astarion stalked off into the woods, halfway convinced the only way he could get Cas off his mind was to do something reckless.

Fighting a bear would likely do the trick.

---

Beginning

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

[makuta-tobi]

Destinytober 2024 - Create+Together

The sound of squealing children filled the air around the wide, green park. It was particularly busy today, with cloudless skies, and the young ones of the City were using this exciting time to play every game their little minds could achieve.

Tobi-17 sat on a bench, a warm drink from one of the nearby food stalls cupped between his hands. Most of the children were wearing puffy jackets, or handmade sweaters, but several had already been discarded as they began to sweat through the extra layers with all their running around. Soul settled on his shoulder, and the Warlock leaned his head back. He wasn’t particularly fond of children, exactly, but he liked to be reminded of what he was fighting for, and he had to admit, the admiration many of the little ones exhibited when they saw him in his armour and robe was certainly a comfortable boost to his ego.

A few Eliksni stood warily on the edges of the park. In the years since they had joined the City’s population, they had wandered further out of their comfort zones. One, smaller than Tobi-17 by at least 2 heads, was squatted and pulling up grass with their lower arms, clearly nervous. Near them, another Eliksni, taller, cradled two young ones of her own. Larger than Hatchlings, the Exo thought, but not that old. Comparable to some of the children running around here. He wondered if maybe the one currently tearing up the turf was more akin to a moody teenager.

One of the children was separated from the pack, wheeling from being spun around, and nearly fell to the ground with dizziness, but the mother Eliksni’s upper right arm shot out and caught her, gently. The little girl shook the vertigo from her head and looked up at the alien, wrapped in shimmering greens and golds. The child smiled up at her, and the mother did her best approximation, baring her razor sharp teeth, before quickly hiding her mouth with concern, but the child had turned her attention to the older-than-hatchlings. The small aliens chittered and clung to their mother, blinking their four eyes out of sync.

“They look funny,” the little girl said, and Tobi-17 stifled a laugh and took a sip of his drink. “Do they know how to play catch up?”

Tobi-17 didn’t know how to play catch up, nor did the Eliksni mother, seemingly, and he had a sneaking suspicion that up until about 10 minutes ago, the little girl had no idea how to play, either. Still, the mother choked out her best response.

“Would you like to play?” the question seemed posed both to her own children, as much as the human girl. Even after assimilating and spreading from the Botza District to more accessible areas of the City, not everyone was pleased with their new Eliksni neighbours. City patrols still reported having to break up fights, and the odd alien body wrapped in House Light linen was occasionally discovered stuffed in a back alley, though this occurrence was rarer now. But the mother’s concern was clearly on how this child actually felt about her spawn.

In response, the two small Eliksni crawled down their mother’s body, standing on wobbly legs, and inched towards the girl, whose face seemed to brighten. She tried to give a quick rundown of the rules of catch up, but the little ones didn’t quite seem to grasp her words. Unfortunately, it seemed, their education struggled with multiple languages. When they looked at her with confused, sad expressions, she pondered for a moment, then jumped up with an idea, which caused them to flinch in surprise.

“Wait right here!” she told them, turning and running back to the other side of the park. The girl’s parents had been watching her like a hawk the entire time, and Tobi-17 could see one was thumbing a comm device. Clearly, even here, they didn’t trust the Eliksni. The little girl ran back to them, and began an animated conversation that Tobi-17 couldn’t make out. The girl’s mother, presumably, retrieved a small knapsack, and handed it to the girl, who rummaged through it, pulling out several items, and then half handed, half threw the bag back into the woman’s arms, turning and sprinting back.

“Here! I have art supplies!” she said, holding out a thick pad of paper, a box of coloured pencils, and a box that looked as if it might contain clay. When the Eliksni children didn’t seem to react, she dropped to the ground, opened her pad of paper, and began to draw.

Tobi-17 slid to the edge of his bench to get a closer look, sipping his rapidly cooling cup, and watched the girl draw a round green shape. The extremely crude drawing of a frog came together quickly, and she turned it around to show the alien youths, who cooed in response. The girl pushed the pad of paper and pencils towards them, and one of the little ones grabbed several in each of its four stubby arms and began to work on something. The other stared quizzically at the box, which the girl happily obliged, opening it and handing a wad of clay to the alien child.

The girl’s absence seemed to have drawn the attention of the other human children, who had begun to cast glances her way and whisper among themselves, before one kid called out.

“Casey, what are you doing over there?” his voice had a slight tremble, as if he was afraid to draw too much attention from the aliens.

“We’re makin’ stuff!” she responded nonchalantly, her pencils zipping around on her second sheet of paper.

The Eliksni with the clay had begun to sculpt, relatively neatly, despite its small frame. With its claws, it was able to shape the material easily, carving off pieces with one set of arms while the other stretched the wad. Much like the others’ drawings, it was crude, but the shape of a four winged bird was becoming more and more clear.

The other kids moved in closer to see what exactly Casey was doing, the Eliksni adolescent glaring daggers at them as they approached, which caused the group to freeze, then, moving towards her slowly, hoping that by minimizing their movements, they wouldn’t upset the older being.

Crowding around Casey, the group of children craned their necks to look at the stuff being made. It seemed at some point, she and the Eliksni child had both begun working on a single sheet of drawing paper, and while the kids blocked out most of his view now, Tobi-17 could make out the clear shape of the Traveler at the top, the lines that swooped across its massive body drawn in blue, while shapes he assumed were buildings reached up from below. The two were drawing the City, the place they knew and loved, and they were sharing that love with each other.

“This is coming out great!” Casey’s voice boomed from below the group. “You’re really good at drawing! AND WOW!” her voice could have knocked a Legionary off its feet. “You made that with the clay? It’s so cool! What is it? I’ve never seen a bird like that before! You even made feathers for it!”

Tobi-17 could see the top of Casey’s head bounce up as she jumped to her feet.

“You guys are totally gonna be in a gallery some day!” she beamed. “You never gave me your names, but I need to know who to look for!”

The small Eliksni chirped and looked back at their mother, who whispered something in their language, then turned back to her.

“Eesakks,” said the one who was drawing.

“Cheksis,” said the one with the clay, holding it out to Casey to take.

The girl giggled as she took the creation from her companion.

“Sounds like Isaac and Checkers,” she turned to show off the four winged bird to the human children, who murmured between themselves.

Sighing with relief that a new bond had been formed, Tobi-17 downed the last of his now chilled drink, and stood, Soul rising off his shoulder and blinking at him. The Warlock strode towards a trash can, one not quite as close to him as the one he knew was behind his bench, and walked past the group of kids.

“You know,” he said, and the children of both worlds looked up at him in surprise, “nicknames are very cool, but it’s good to make sure you can say their names correctly, too. It’s about giving respect.”

He looked at his Ghost and raised his eyebrow plates slightly, holding out his hand, and Soul chuckled, transmatting a satchel of candy to one of his Guardian’s hands, and 2 small tanks of Ether Fizz to the other. He handed the sweets to the human kids, whose ravenous hands tore into it before their minds could even form the words “thank you,” and he handed one of the tanks to the mother Eliksni, who took it and made a slight bow, and the other to the adolescent, who snatched it, but turned his head and murmured his own appreciation.

The Exo walked over to the trash, and tossed in his empty cup, turning back to the group of children, who were now sharing in their sweets. Some of the other kids had seemingly also begun drawing, and one seemed to be attempting to once again explain the rules of catch up to the Eliksni children, who seemed to have, perhaps, a minimally wider grasp on the concept than the first time it was detailed to them.

The City was in peace for now. That’s all he could ask for, and Tobi-17 hoped that the children of each race would one day be able to sit on a Consensus together, and make decisions that would benefit not just the City, but all of Sol. But for today, those children would just have to make their drawings, and learn that a frog’s legs absolutely do not bend the way Casey drew them.

[theproperweirdo]

Nara and Sonja story for @noisette-tornade 🤞all copy and pasted directly from the in game stories

Nara - Heartcarver

The city known as Rustport may have once had a more conventional name, but if that is in fact the case, it has long been forgotten. A sprawl of ramshackle structures that sway and creak in the salty winds blowing in from the sea, taverns lean against gambling halls and establishments of ominous repute like crooked teeth. For every baker there are two thieves, for every blacksmith two pirates. When the sun sets, the woefully few honest citizens bar their doors and secure the latches on windows. It is a rare night indeed that passes in Rustport without a murder and a rare resident who has not seen the body of a victim by the time they are able to speak.

Within this city lies a district where not even the city watch will tread after dark-Mire Town.

It was here, among sludge-slick alleyways and chittering swarms of rats that Nara was born and raised. As an infant, her mother abandoned Rustport and the family she had there, unwilling to suffer the place any longer or see her daughter do the same. Nara's father was deeply in debt to a criminal enterprise, but still managed to keep his daughter fed and sheltered, paying meager installments to the gang without incurring too much physical injury. This continued for a long time, until Nara was nine years old and the criminals discovered that not only had her father not been paying as much as he could, but that he in fact had enough coin stashed away to pay off the entirety of his debt.

After abducting and "interrogating" the debtor, a confession was pulled out. He had been saving the money to skip town and start a new life with his daughter somewhere far away. Having what they needed, they disposed of him: A lesson to other would-be debt evaders. Orphaned, Nara was thrown out of the hovel she had shared with her father. She wandered the streets, stealing and scavenging to survive.

Every day was a fight for survival, and Nara quickly became callous and mistrustful. The other people on the street were simply targets or hazards, and she began to lose any sense of warmth or compassion she once had. The people she did engage with were invariably others like herself- orphaned children and runaways getting by however they could. Eventually, she found herself at the head of a small thieve's guild alongside Sonja, the only other child who could match her abilities.

They called themselves Whispers, for the faint whisper coins make on cloth while being picked out of pockets.

As season after season blended into another, they subsumed the smaller child gangs until they were the largest network of thieves in the city. The size of their operation had grown tremendously until there was hardly a street corner in Rustport that didn't have a Whisper lingering, waiting for a chance to make a quick profit. Other gangs of course wanted in on the Whispers' turf at first, but Nara was quick to show that she was capable of much more than theft. After the initial disputes, those who didn't work for her stayed out of her way.

After dominating the city's criminal underground while still just a teen, she began to look at expanding her horizons.

The most profitable market in Rustport certainly wasn't pickpocketing, even at the scale she commanded. Rustport has a bustling slave market, a plaza drowning in the noises of commerce and despair.

Maulers slump in their chains next to Wilders, men, and other peoples of Esperia.

Here the only distinction is between master and slave. If she wanted to make the real money, she'd need a good ship and lots of manacles.

The first expedition she attended personally. Though she was well past the stage in her career of doing the dirty work herself, she wanted to oversee this new venture. She selected Azure Cove as her target, a patch of water lending access to the forests of the Wilders. What she didn't know was that Azure Cove had a new protector. When her ship sailed in, Seirus the elemental sensed the malicious intent from the crew. In a single great wave, the ship was capsized, drowning all aboard.

Nara's body sank softly to the bottom of the cove. Her story was over, it would seem.

For days she lay there, the seaweed brushing against her pale, open eyes. Then, one night, the husk that had been Nara received the call. With a sickly flicker of green light, her eyes cast about the seafloor and she stood, trudging toward the shore.

If Nara was cruel and violent in life, she is far worse now. She takes great pleasure in the harm she can cause others, and does so as often as she can.

“How would you like to die?”

Sonja - Ruler of the underworld

Sonja and I have known each other for years. Back then she was a wan, listless little thing, scurrying around with us in the dark, lawless alleys of the slums. She had long, flowing blonde hair - not that you'd know it under all the mud and fleas - which she still stubbornly spent ages braiding.

She was one of us: another weak and downtrodden worm, mired in the silt of chaos and turmoil, all too often caught and beaten for her thievery. Now and then I would share with her some of the vegetables I'd managed to obtain and, maybe in response to such unexpected kindness, she in turn would tear off some of her stolen bread and return the favor. As the days, weeks, months dripped by, we inevitably got to know each other better.

Oh, Sonja was a clever one. She was in and out of the various traders all year long, and knew the black market better than anyone else. Am I the slightest bit surprised that she hit it off so well with Nara? Of course not. After all, Nara was the most agile and fierce of all our dank alley thieves.

Ever since they started working together, the two of them complemented each other so well that they were never again caught, instead going on to make a killing with every single job. They made sure to share their profits and goods with us, yet we still remained the target of extortion and bullying by the various other gangs.

One evening, Sonja came looking for us.

She and Nara, tired of the other gangs lording it over us, wanted to form their own group. This would give us orphans, the scurrying inhabitants of the alleys, a proper foothold in Rustport. Together with Nara, she told us of their vision, something we never would have countenanced in a million years: they wished for us to live well, able to eat and drink our fill, as one family. And so it was that the Whispers were born, and we felt we'd finally come home.

It didn't take long for the Whispers to earn a reputation for itself in Rustport.

While Nara's obvious ruthlessness and brutality terrified the other gangs, they still hadn't realized Sonja's strategy, which aimed to elevate the Whispers head and shoulders above the other Rustport gangs.

Blood and roses... These, to me, perfectly symbolize Nara and Sonja. Nara's savagery stained the ground of this sinful land with the blood of countless opponents, while Sonja was more a gorgeous, mud-encrusted rose, tangled and bristling with the thorns of sin.

In order to make real money, we Whispers had to carve out our own unique niche. We gradually found an emerging market in the trade of... "Special" goods, which became our best chance to make it big. Nara bribed her way to ensure the sea routes were open for the Whispers to bring back our plunder, which she held at port for Sonja to dispose of. The excellent coordination between the two have allowed us to really profit from this emerging new industry. As our business grew, Sonja discovered that smuggling was not without risk: while she had always respected and followed the unwritten code of smugglers, the expanding gang brought in more and more people, some of whom may not be so faithful to the criminal creed. There were those who were not above playing multiple sides for their own personal benefit. Once the smuggling lines were leaked, the Whispers had to contend not just with the threat of robbery, but also with the fact that the leaker may well be a member of our own little "family".

Inevitably, this fear became reality. Our secret smuggling routes were leaked to rival gangs by those closest to us. Nara wiped out those who ambushed our goods, while the leaker defected to our rivals.

Faced with those who had once shared bread and battle by our sides, and who now worked to harm the interests of our family, seeds of suspicion were sown and took root in the hearts of many of the Whispers.

This caused the very first argument to erupt between Nara and Sonja. Nara wanted to publicly execute those in the Whispers who were suspected of being traitors, to serve as a warning to others.

She even thought to begin with the earliest members of the gang. Her rage and distress terrified me, yet I was also cognizant of the arrogant, entitled attitude amongst many of these old "veterans". They were no longer satisfied by the wealth the Whispers generated for them, desirous of ever more power, and secretly making moves within our own ranks by leaning on the newest members.

Sonja, however, was more hesitant to take such drastic measures. Perhaps she was reluctant to dig too deeply into the treachery of those with whom she had risen from the mud of the slums. Whatever her motive, she was unwilling to kill the traitors, preferring instead the "merciful" option of banishment.

Their quarrel ended as Nara slammed a door and stormed off. Sonja said not a word, perhaps in resentment of her own hesitation, as she had never before had such a major disagreement with Nara. My own conjecture is that Sonja still believed in the Whispers' original purpose: to provide a stable home for the worms struggling in the mud of the slums. Now that this dream was realized, how could she evict her own " family"?

Nara vanished. One day she set sail on an ordinary voyage, and just never returned. Sonja exhorted all Whispers to search for them, but no trace was ever found. The other gangs felt that with Nara's disappearance we had lost our most powerful deterrent, and began eyeing what had previously been unequivocally under our command. Discontent inside the Whispers also surged, and even I could hear the tavern rumors that there were plans afoot to overthrow the Whispers from within.

Not everyone was rooting for Nara. Some of the veteran members secretly rejoiced, as they eyed Sonja's position as leader and dreamt of seizing power for themselves. For Sonja, these circumstances opened her eyes, stripping away her tolerance of and faith in the old guard. She abandoned her merciful approach, shook off the pain of Nara's disappearance, and began to ruthlessly screen all those around her. She discerns the traitors in her midst and, after a mental and physical flaying, rejects them back into the mud and slime of the slums, broken and dejected.

No one could have seen this coming. That the girl who used to cry because her moldy bread was stolen could make such a cruel decision. Sonja retaliated against the traitors even more than Nara, until no one even dared think of betrayal, and all of Rustport was in awe. Sonja no longer showed pity to those who shared her background, while those orphans she rescued from the slums had to pay everything for the privilege.

I almost do not recognize Sonja now. She has shaved off her long, golden hair, and carved roses into her temples. She no longer smiles at me, but beneath her ice-cold expression constantly wonders if I am tempted to betray her. She had trusted us, and we were unable to repay her with unerring loyalty. She can but watch over the Whispers and, even if she feels the task too heavy to bear alone, will never give up. She knows that only by making the Whispers even stronger, will Nara be able to find her way home.

Sonja is an iron rose blooming among thorns. She has trodden on the corpses of countless traitors, turned her back on the last vestiges of goodwill, and climbed step by step onto the throne of power. The Whispers is not just an empire she built with Nara, but also testament to her ambition and greed.

I am but a bystander to her life of sin, which one may call cruel, another great.

She will never be satisfied with what she has and, while she used to be kind, she now wields total control over life and death in the Whispers, despite never needing to ever again dirty her own hands.

"Desire is the rose that cuts its way through the sinful soil which is covered in blood. That is my weapon.”

Whispers and Shadows (Nara & Sonja union story)

1. The towering waves overturned thecargo ship from Rustport, causing the hull to flip onto the surface of the sea.

The crew cried out in despair as they were swallowed up by the raging waves.

Nara tried to grab the broken spar in front of her, but before she could press her body against the mast, she was dragged into the sea by the person next to her, her arms covered in blood. The pain of salt water rushing into her wounds was quickly drowned out by the crashing waves. During the last throes of her consciousness, the crimson blood that spread in the sea blinded her eyes, and the pungent seawater poured into her nostrils, suffocating her.

The last time she felt such suffocation was when she was a child. Back then, she used to hide with her father in the alleys of Rustport to avoid their creditors. They would bury themselves in piles of garbage reeking of rotten fish soaked in stale water - the same odor that invaded her nostrils now as the salty seawater threatened to drown her.

Nara's memories of her father were filled with hatred. The shameless old man had promised her time and time again that he would give her a stable home once he paid off his debts. But his broken promises only brought her endless disappointment. Eventually, even the disappointment faded away, because she no longer held any hope for her father. When her father was killed by his creditors, Nara hid in a garbage heap and struggled to hold her breath.

Perhaps when she woke up from her suffocating stupor, everything would have passed.

Nara became an orphan, wandering alone in the slums and surviving by stealing. Being beaten up black-and-blue was par for the course with her, and sometimes she even had to fight over scraps of food with wild dogs. She had lost all the innocence that she should have had at her age. Instead, she had to be cunning and even resort to deception to get a measly piece of moldy bread.

Life was like a bone-chilling deep ocean, and except to hold her breath, she was helpless.

She never harbored any hope for a rescuing hand to pull her out form the depths of this ocean. Not until Sonja appeared.

2. The seawater no longer stung Nara's scarred skin like a sharp blade. She even felt a soft touch. She tried to open her eyes, but could only see faint dots no matter how hard she turned her eyeballs. Gradually, the dots took on the familiar shape of Sonja's hand reaching out to her.

Their meeting began with a theft in a dark alley. Sonja, also an orphan, used to wander in the alleys of the slums before she met Nara. Sonja relied on her exceptional intelligence to secretly learn various knowledge that might benefit her.

Compared to Nara's roughness, she seemed particularly cautious. After all, given her lack of agile physical skills, she could easily be caught, beaten, and perhaps even die from that.

On that day, Nara, who was starving, went to a bakery in Rustport. Hunger made her clumsy and her mind dull. So much so that when she smelled the freshly baked bread, she almost lost her faculties and wanted to burst out from her hiding spot in the kitchen's corner and grab it right away. Even a piece of moldy bread was a delicacy that the homeless orphans in this stinking harbor could only dream of, yet at that moment, such a slice of heaven was within Nara's arm's reach.

When Sonja came across Nara, the latter was pinned to the ground by the shopkeeper, covered in blood and filth.

Such was common sight for Sonja, who was even considering using the distraction to swipe something useful from the cupboard. However, when their eyes met, Sonja changed her mind. Nara' s gaze was deep and filled with intense resentment and despair, as if she was calling for help while also declaring war on life.

Carefully, Sonja retrieved an unburnt piece of coal from the stove and used it to ignite the discarded wood planks in the back alley, while the shopkeeper was distracted. The sudden thick smoke frightened the shopkeeper, who abandoned Nara and rushed to put out the fire. Seizing the opportunity, Sonja pulled Nara out of the bakery, taking a few freshly baked loaves of bread on the way.

In this dog-eat-dog world of Rustport, exposing one's weakness to others meant putting oneself in danger. Yet Nara had allowed Sonja to witness her most vulnerable state, perhaps hoping that someone would see through her feebleness and offer a helping hand. For so long, Nara had been wandering the dark alleys alone, but now she asked Sonja if she would be willing to join forces and move forward together. She wanted to prove to Sonja that she was more than just the girl who was beaten and covered in mud, and show the nimbleness and agility that had kept her alive for so long.

Their bond began on the day they met and from then on, they established the Whispers together, building a sanctuary for Nara's soul. As long as she could return to Sonja's side, there would always be warm hands waiting to soothe her icy soul.

Yet, as the spark of life within her dwindled, Nara realized that she was stil a helpless victim of fate, unable to grasp the hand that was reaching out to her.

3. Nara no longer felt any pain, and the last glimmer of light in her eyes faded away. In fact, she knew from the beginning that everything up until now was just a dying dream. Nothing more than an illusion.

Before their latest voyage, Nara and Sonja had a fierce argument. Nara had angrily stormed out of the room, leaving Sonja behind. It was their last conversation, which yet ended in an argument. Nara could not understand Sonja's "hypocritical kindness." Perhaps as an intelligent person, Sonja had her own thoughts on the matter, while a reckless person driven by instinct like Nara could not weigh the pros and con like her. Nara had always relied on Sonja, believing that it was her friend's plansand decisions that had neutralized numerous threats to the Whispers.

Only this time, Sonja made a decision that went against Nara's beliefs.

Sonja often warned Nara not to be satisfied with the status quo, as they had already sacrificed too much for their cause. Nara's injuries, Sonja's sleepless nights - they were all for the sake of protecting those they wanted to keep safe... And yet they had been given tyrannical and cruel labels by the very people they were trying to help.

Nara knew that the argument over how to deal with the traitors was just a reflection of the Whispers' plight, but if she could become stronger and prevent the traitors from doing anything that would harm the Whispers, maybe she could bring everything back on track?

As she sank into the cold abyss, the darkness consumed Nara's vision, leaving her with no chance for regret.

The ocean currents pulled her deeper and deeper until she reached the ocean floor. In her final moments, she realized that none of it mattered anymore. The survival of the Whispers, or punishing the traitors—they were all irrelevant now. All she wanted was to return to Rustport, to the Whispers, and to Sonja's side, where those warm hands could once again comfort her icy soul.

4. "O slumbering assassin. Thou whose nature shy not from killing or plundering, shall be reborn. Serve me, and I will grant thee immortality."

After what felt like an eternity, a low whisper echoing through the deep sea stirred Nara's dormant, icy soul. She was surrounded by a hollow darkness, submerged in the depths for what felt like ages, until the voice infused her with a power that lifted her above the waves.

Penetrating dim light shafts came into her line of sight, and she caught a glimpse of brightness once again.

However, this light was tainted with the color of decay, just like her own rotten body. Her longing to return home had led her to hear the call from the abyss.

Despite knowing that the voice must have malicious designs, she did not hesitate to say yes. For even after spending dozens of days and nights at the bottom of the sea as a corpse, which had left her memories on the verge of shattering, she still remembered that there was someone waiting for her return in a place called Rustport.

As for the cost? That was never a consideration. Nara would gladly give all that she had.

"Go back. Return to where you belong, and embrace the pleasure that death brings you."

As her decayed body ascended from the seabed, her shattered hands regained strength. As she approached the sea surface, sunlight penetrated the dark water and shone on Nara's cold body once again. In a trance, she saw the blurry figure of an old acquaintance reflected on the surface, reaching out a familiar yet strange hand towards her.

Without hesitation, Nara reached out and grasped at that hand.

Yet there was nothing but air.

[naminethewriter]

Bullies and a Date

Day 5 of @intrulogicalweek and I have swapped out the prompt. I just don't vibe with drag guys, I don't know why. Just not my thing. So instead have some Nerd!Remus and Punk!Logan 💙💚

Masterpost | Intrulogical Week 23 Masterpost | Ao3

Summary: Remus gets bullied and gets unexpected help.

Content Warnings: Bullying, Flirting

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

“You should have known better than cross my way, nerd.”

Remus had heard this spiel a hundred times before. It was boring him to tears, but he couldn't show that. It might earn him a black eye and his mom would kill him if he wasn’t presentable for the charity event she was hosting this weekend. So, he did his best to look properly scared by the two football players crowding him against his locker.

“At a loss for words, loser? Huh?” A push to his shoulder and Remus winced. “Say something!”

“Leave him alone, Jägerman,” a new voice spoke up from close by. Remus’ eyes widen as they fall onto Logan Croft. The senior looked almost bored as he watched the scene in front of him, his icy blue eyes piercing into the bully’s back.

With another shove, Remus is released, and his attacker turns around to face the newcomer.

“Fuck off, Croft. This is none of your business.”

“Maybe not, but I’m also not going to stand by and just let you do whatever you want.”

“You should though. ‘Cause I always to whatever I want. This is my turf, asshole,” Jägerman spat and advanced on Logan, who didn’t even flinch. Remus nervously chewed on his lower lip as he watched the scene, but the other footballer was still too close to him to make a run for it.

Not that he really wanted to. After all, he wasn’t about to abandon his helper.

“You are so very eloquent with your words,” Logan scoffed. “Don’t you have to get to remedial algebra? Or do you plan to fail the year so you can stay at school for a little longer and continue your power trip?”

“You really have some nerve to talk to me like this, punk,” Jägerman bit out between gritted teeth. He stepped into Logan’s personal space, crowding him, but the other didn’t react with more than a raised brow.

With an angry growl, Jägerman pulled back his fist and tried to ram it into Logan’s stomach but the other grabbed his arm tightly before he could do so.

“I know how to defend myself, Jägerman. And if you don’t want me to break your arm, you better leave right now.”

The bell rung. From where he was standing, Remus couldn’t see the quarterback’s face, but he was pretty sure that Jägerman must be looking furious. His back was shaking with barely controlled rage at least.

“This isn’t over, Croft,” he growled before pulling his arm free and stalking down the hallway, his buddy close behind. Remus watched him until he rounded a corner.

“Are you alright?”

Remus’ neck hurt after his head swirled around fast to face Logan, staring at him intently from only a few steps away. The punk was wearing his signature denim jacket with a collage of pins, combat boots, a long, dark blue skirt, a chain belt, a dark shirt with a red print, and a blue-striped tie that hung loosely around his neck.

Damn, he was hot.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Remus yelped. He reached up to nervously right his glasses and he could feel the flush spreading across his cheeks.

“Good.” The smile that appeared on Logan’s face was utterly unfair, Remus decided. How was he supposed to keep calm when he smiled like that? “See ya.”

“Wait!” he called, a little too loud considering Logan hadn’t even taken more than one step away from him. The punk froze, turning back to him with a raised brow. “Would you… Uhm…” He swallowed nervously. “Can I… I’d like to buy you a drink if you don’t mind.”

Logan’s eyebrow wandered even higher.

“That’s alright, I don’t need thank you gifts.”

“No, that’s not what I… Well, kind of, but I meant more like… like a date?” Remus was blushing hard by the end of it, but Logan didn’t look convinced.

“Look, I’m flattered, but just because I saved you once doesn’t mean that I—”

“That’s not why!” Remus cut him off. “I’ve had a crush on you for months.”

“Is that so?” He sounded amused and Remus almost pouted. Almost.

“Yes. At first, I was just admiring your style. If my mom wasn’t such an order fanatic, I’d wear stuff like that, too, but she’d lose her shit if she found anything like that in our house.” Remus’ cheeks felt like they were set aflame, but he couldn’t stop his rambling. “But on top of your clothes, you’re hot, smart and don’t take shit from anyone. It’s honestly kinda unfair how attractive you are.”

By the end of his speech, he was slightly out of breath. He hadn’t even noticed that Logan had come closer, now only an armlength away from him.

“You’re quite honest,” he smirked, leaning a bit closer.

Remus felt like his head might explode. “So I’ve been told. Though usually that’s seen as a bad thing.”

Logan just watched him for a moment before chuckling quietly.

“You know what? You’re quite intriguing. I’ll take you up on your offer. You got time after school?”

“Y-yeah! I’ve got a free period now and after that A-level physics, but after that I’m free.”

“Good. I’ll meet you at the main gate then.”

“Okay,” Remus squeaked. Logan smirked and then turned and walked away with a little wave.

Remus’ legs got weak. He actually managed to get a date with Logan Croft.

His brother’s gonna flip his lid.

[lostgracestories]

~The Hearts in Her Forest Eyes~

So this is a Sukuna x OC drabble that I might turn into a fic. This idea kind of came to me as I was listening to some soft love songs. I really enjoyed writing this and exploring not writing something with a character x reader. If you like it let me know if I should make a part 2!

TW: Sukuna (Need I say more?)

wc: 702

The wind breathed against her skin and blew her elegant strands of white hair around. The image before Sukuna was surreal. The woman knelt to the lake side with a large bucket in her hands as she scooped water up, careful and gentle. Why was Sukuna watching her? The woman gingerly placed the bucket next to her and dipped her hands into the water, bringing her damp hands to her face and gently rubbing away a smudge of dirt. 

Sukuna couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her. His mind tossed and turned in distress as he internally argued with himself. He was a king. He was the strongest. He was feared. He enjoyed the idea of killing innocent women and children. Yet here he was, eyes glued to this woman he didn’t even know. He urged himself to step forward and kill her to no avail. He couldn’t move from his spot, hidden up in a tree, only feet away from the woman.

Sukuna watched as the woman finished cleaning up her face and stood up with her bucket. He didn’t realize it at first but he was leaning in closer to see the woman’s face. As the woman turned he was met with two gorgeous forest green eyes and a face peppered in freckles. Wait. She was looking at him. “What are you doing up there?” She questioned him, her voice gentle and sweet. Sukuna felt a pang in his chest that made him furious. He came down from the tree and threatened her with his very presence. She didn’t budge and it angered him. “You are lucky to be alive”

Sukuna remarked and narrowed his eyes at her in irritation as his tall figure loomed over her. She should be afraid. She should run. She should scream. She should be startled by his striking figure. He should kill her. So why wasn’t he?

“Am I? Is this stream dangerous?”

She wasn’t stupid. She knew who he was. Every bone in her body told her to run. But her feet stayed planted. She knew what he could do. Yet even though her body was afraid, her heart and mind were unshaken. Why?

“Don’t be such a fool!”

Sukuna snarled the words out fiercely. He felt mocked and agitated by her lack of fear. He hated the idea of not having control.

“You know who I am woman. You know the danger I pose to you.” The woman simply smiled up at him. Not once had she glanced at his four arms, his markings, or his extra eyes.

“If you pose danger then I am not sensing I am in danger. I have done nothing but come to get water for my family. If I have wandered onto your turf I do apologize.”

The woman offered him another soft smile as she bowed and began to carry away the bucket of water, walking down the path back to the village. Sukuna stood there in shock. When was the last time he lost control of someone else’s emotions? The last time nobody feared him? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t want to, he found it a waste of time, yet his feet carried him to follow behind the woman and his mouth opened without thought.

“Your name, woman”

He demanded as if her life depended on the answer.

“Renji.”

She met his eyes and nodded at the end of her answer. “Renji…” He repeated her name and thought about it.

“You should be afraid”

Renji chuckled at his insistence and shook her head as they approached the village, pausing her steps to look at him with full attention. “I am not afraid of you. You are simply another being are you not? The only difference between us is power. You would not kill me because I pose no threat to you and I am not strong. Killing me would be like breaking a stick. It is not an accomplishment.”

Sukuna’s expression soured further at her explanation and he whipped his head away from her. “Leave my sight woman”

Renji gave him a last smile and continued on her way. Sukuna stood and watched her walk away in the distance.

He hated her.

[tsams-and-co-memes]

Do you think that Frank could be a Pisces from another dimension? Hypothetically if he was watching everyone for 'Years' perhaps... He's a Pisces from a possibly dead dimension? Watching everything going on because Moon made the star... but when the original Forkface showed up he saw an opportunity and is now just wearing that suit around? Would also explain a few things if his power scaling is seemingly greater than the other Astrals in this universe.

Tbh, anything is possible at this point. I hesitate to say his power scaling could be greater than the other astral bodies though, since we don't know the extent of their powers individually. We've never seen them in action, and only heard about what Gemini, Taurus, and Libra do. Gemini asked for the help of another astral body to appear in one of Lunar's dreams, and since Pisces handles dream stuff, that's probably who they asked

I'm not sure how likely it is that if a dimension dies, that set of astral bodies would wander around looking through other dimensions and waiting for things to do, either. If every dimension has its own version of the astral bodies, and if they're aware that there are other versions of themselves, I feel like they'd probably hold council over a lot of things and discuss who goes where/who does what. The OG astral bodies have been doing almost nothing aside from hold council, ever since they (as a concept) were introduced

If they all held council with other versions of themselves, I'm not sure why one Pisces would encroach upon another Pisces' turf or prevent them from doing their job in any way. Unless they teamed up or fused or something like that, it'd also imply that one would have to kill the other in order to take over the body that Frank's currently in

[jacelandon]

May DWC Day 6 - Confidence

Referencing Vixannya's latest gallery!

He watched with interest the myriad of reactions the guests presented as they gazed upon the focal portrait in Vixannya Ana’diel’s gallery. Some were immediately startled by what they saw and almost seemed to display the beginnings of a panic attack prior to realizing where they were. Others appeared almost happy as little smirks spread over their lips before being hidden behind a hand. All the while, his music soared throughout the space, with the purpose of amplifying whatever emotions were individually felt. Annya had clearly known what she was doing when she hired him to play here, expressing that what she was seeking was to make her guests feel deeply. He was confident that he had accomplished such given the horrified gasps, tears, and occasional laughter he witnessed.

He was paid very handsomely to play for only a couple hours before being turned loose into the afterparty. Having traveled the world and seeing all sorts of magnificent natural and manmade structures, he had to admit that this event immediately went towards the top of his list of breathtaking things he’s seen in person. He stopped in his tracks and stared in awe at the Tree of Life, having to remind himself internally that they were still in Dalaran.

“Like what you see?” The feminine voice chimed in behind him as fingertips brushed along his shoulder, Vixannya herself stepping up beside him.

They had met on his much less bougie turf previously at the Darkmoon Faire, but being here in this fancy space and rubbing elbows with the rich and famous was on a whole new level he was not accustomed to, and he felt himself almost flustered in her presence. Blue eyes immediately settled on her as he smirked, “Beautiful.” He still had his charms.

She gave an amused hum, “Go enjoy yourself, you’ve earned it. Perhaps I’ll see you later, in the tunnels.” And with that she was whisked away.

He had no idea where or what these ‘tunnels’ were, but he was absolutely going to find out at some point. The schoolboy crush was real and he felt a bit silly for it, but Annya’s darker nature spoke to him on a deep level. For now, it was time to explore! Each different area left him more and more gobsmacked; the magic that went into illusions like these were accomplished only by the most gifted, and everything, magic or not, seemed to flow with ease.

A few familiar faces were spotted here and there, but he was less interested in socializing and more so in exploring. He did spend a longer time admiring Ryland perform within the underwater fantasy, but eventually continued his tour. He ate well, drank top shelf liquor, indulged in various dusts and pills, danced, flirted, relaxed, found a dark corner here and there with a new friend, and overall had probably one of the best and most memorable nights of his life.

It was around the witching hour when he found himself wandering the tunnels beneath the Tree of Life, a little drunk, a little high, and feeling quite euphoric overall when he heard that familiar voice, “You found me.” Eyes darted around, wondering if for a moment he had just hallucinated the voice before Vixannya stepped out from a small crack hidden in the winding caverns. Technically he didn’t find her, he was just a little lost and got lucky. “Come join?”

“Absolutely.” Following her back through the small crack, it opened into a larger space with a bar lit only by hanging, colorful lanterns. Cushioned seating areas were tucked back into various nooks and crannies, making the whole place seem rather cozy. Ryland was there, among a few other faces he didn’t recognize. They were all in various states of undress, mostly for comfort, possibly for other activities, and he was happy to add to the pile of suit jackets off to the side. Taking a seat among the others, he deeply inhaled whatever incense was being burned and dropped his head back against the cushion, grinning to himself.

Soon enough he found Vixannya perched atop his lap, long cigarette holder in hand as purple smoke curled upwards from between her lips, offering him a drag which he greedily accepted. “Welcome to the real afterparty, darling.”

The most memorable night of his life indeed.

@vixannya @rylandfalkov @serazhen (is probably there too!) @daily-writing-challenge

[writersmilex]

Try Again | Part 2

Tom Gurney X Fem | Reader

Summary: Tom thinks he completely ruined it this time, there has to be a way to make it up to (Y/n) and fix everything.

Part 1 is HERE

_________________________________________

Tom has been all down in the dumps. At least his friends think so. Wade made them believe that he had a crush on a girl, which... was not... untrue? He wants to get to know her, he would pick on her specifically to get her attention. He was too much of a chicken to say something. Now she hates him, he is sure of that. And it upsets him so much that not even torturing helpless freshmen can make him feel better about himself.

"Make it up to her, then?" Wade seems to have learned nothing at all from the last time he tried to give Tom advice. Tom had his head in his hands just before looking up at his friend to glare daggers at him. "I should punch the stupid out of you..." Tom threatens, his glare sharpening at his friend. "I didn't say how yet?" Wade continues, holding up his hands in defence. Tom sighs and rests his head back in his hands. What to do? What to do? It's been so long since he felt bad about intimidating someone. How is he supposed to deal with that now? "Maybe beat up someone for the-""Okay, you're not helping!" Tom stands up and cuts Wade off and walks away from his stupid friend to get some peace of mind and think clearly. ~~~~ The freshmen were quick to stay out of his way or even straight-up run away once they see him wander. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his pants and his shoulders tense. He is mad at himself for messing up so badly, if only he could talk to her like a normal person then it would have been fine, wouldn't it? His mindless wander lands him by the football field and gymnasium. The turf of the Jocks. Lucky for Tom, the Jocks don't mess with the Bullies, because they have Russel on their side. He can pummel all the other cliques with ease. The Jock still glares at Tom as he traverses their turf aimlessly. Kirby is so much shorter than Tom, he doesn't stand a chance if he tries anything. But Tom isn't really in the mood for fighting. Usually, it's rather tranquil by the football field, but there is some commotion by the field itself that sparks his curiosity. He is not the only one at this, some other random kids run in the direction of the sounds to see what is going on. Tom is intrigued and jogs in the same direction as everyone else to see what is going on. The group of kids are crowding around some others, he has to push through some kids to be able to see what is happening. And when he got to see, his blood ran cold. It was (Y/n): being intimidated by Juri, of all people. Juri looks ready to physically attack (Y/n) for reasons that are unknown to Tom. Some kids were encouraging a fight between a girl and a boy. "Why don't you just leave her alone!" he can hear that girl Nerd say loudly with fear evident in her voice. Did Juri harrass (Y/n)? He doesn't know what had happened before, all he knows is that he doesn't want to see (Y/n) get hurt by some brainless football-obsessed nobody. Tom pushes past more students to approach the angry-looking Jock, and just before he could lay a hand on (Y/n), Tom grabs the Jock's arm and pulls it back roughly. Forcing Juri to turn around and face him. "Nobody gets to pick on (Y/n) but me!" Tom growls in Juri's face and before Juri could reply, Tom snatched (Y/n)'s arm and drags her along with him away from the crowd. Tom prays that the Jocks are following them. "You?!" (Y/n) sounds genuinely surprised that it was Tom Gurney that saved her from such a sticky situation. Tom eventually stopped walking once he took (Y/n) safely to the parking lot, the Bullies' turf. Then he let her arm go, hoping he didn't squeeze her too hard. He shuffles around awkwardly for a bit, not sure of what to say to her. He watches her dust off her uniform and takes a deep breath as she calms down. "You uh... You alright?" Tom asks sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. It takes (Y/n) a moment to reply to him. Still messing with her clothes while seemingly looking for something to say. "Err... Yeah... I'm okay." She finally replies slowly, looking at the Bully with suspicion. Tom can tell that she is still weary of him, and he doesn't blame her for that. He had really scared her the last time they interacted. "What happened?" he asks, watching (Y/n) get slightly more uncomfortable. She shrugs, "I really shouldn't have strayed on Jock turf, you know?" She says, kicking a loose pebble off the asphalt. "I did do much other than talk back to Juri when he started to shout at me." (Y/n) explains honestly, her posture showing shame. As if she is being scolded by her mother or something. "You really shouldn't run your mouth to those Major-League-wannabes." Tom chortles at his own joke. (Y/n) joins in with an awkward laugh of her own. "yeah... I really got in trouble with that." She rubs the back of her neck. "But then you showed up! And with your sudden change of heart, you helped me out!" She cheers and points at Tom with intrigue. "And I have to say thank you for that." She smiles at him! She actually smiles at him! And it's the best smile he has ever seen. The uplifting features on her face alone could make him feel better. "Yeah, uh... It's cool." He replies shyly, not sure how to accept the gratitude of the one girl he used to bully. This feels like the right moment, maybe Wade was right after all? Has she made it up to her yet? No, not yet. But he is almost there, and then maybe he'll feel better about himself. Once he has made peace with the one thing that has been eating at him for a while; The guilt. ~~~~ (Y/n) and Tom continued with the awkward conversation, sitting on a nearby bench together. (Y/n) observed as the Bully kicked his shoes off, and he wasn't wearing socks. This is the second time that she had witnessed him do something like this. And the curiosity is getting to her. "Why did you take your shoes off?" She asks politely, pointing at his bare feet. Tom shrugs, "Shoes are uncomfortable." He replies casually. It's not the most detailed answer that she had expected, but it's an answer that she can respect. "Okay." She replies. Then it's quiet again, both parties are unsure of how to talk to each other. Tom has the chance to apologize, there won't come a more perfect moment than this. Now, now! Do it now, stupid! "Listen, (Y/n)..." He begins, toying with the hem of his loose shirt. "I, uh..." He stammers, god this is hard. Where does he even start? (Y/n) looks at him, waiting for him to explain himself. "I...I am sorry... I'm sorry for picking on you. I didn't know how to talk to you..." He finally manages to stammer out. The look she gives him is incredulous. "You didn't know how to talk to me?" She asks with an amused expression. Tom nods and gulps, this is not going the way he wanted. "Well." She begins, changing her posture; leaning back and crossing her legs. "You were more annoying than anything, but the last time you cornered me was scary." she continues. That hits the Bully in the chest, "Again, I'm sorry!" He almost pleads, making her laugh. "And you're forgiven, really!" she says to calm him down. "How about we start over?" (Y/n) suggests and stands up, Tom follows. She then holds out her hand for him to shake, "My name is (Y/n). What's yours?" She asks with a smile. Tom returns that smile and reaches to take hold of her hand. His hand feels sweaty to her. "I'm Tom. Nice to meet you." He replies. He feels a lot better than he did before, but he feels he needs to do more to make it up to her. _________________________________________ Quite difficult to set up a good plotline here. But this feels good, Tom got to redeem himself a bit. Thanks for reading.❤️ - Smilex🙂