#also noted next to each of them is the weapon they use in side order such as “shooter” or “brush”

[galacticrain]

Finally done with everyone's designs for the side order portion of my Danganronpa Splatoon au

[buck-star]

Your love | L.H

>> He’s a monster, he was made to be one, so why should you even think about loving him? But somehow you do it anyway, he doesn’t quite understand it, he doesn’t want to broke you, but he can’t be on distance with you either. <<

Pairing: Bestfriend!Logan Howlett x Bestfriend!Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.711 Words

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, Logan thinking he doesn’t deserve love, slight argument, crying, best-friends to lovers, love confession

Authors Note: It’s my first time writing for Logan, and it might be not much like him. But I wanted to give that broken boy a bit of comfort! Dividers made by me.

Events: Trick or treat [Logan Howlett, trick/treat, best friends to lovers, “I thought you will never say that.”], Seasonal-Delights Bingo: Fall Edition [Row Three-Three, taking care of each other]

Masterlist | Logan Howlett Masterlist

“Can you please stop looking at me like that?” He grumbled; his voice was low and deep, while his eyes darkened slightly. You kept looking at him with such a sweet, almost admiring expression, and he just couldn’t look at you when you did that.

Logan didn’t understand how someone like you could care for someone like him, but still, you looked at him with the softest, sweetest expression he has ever seen. And then the smile that was across your face, the kindest and most assuring one he thought possible.

“Like what?” You asked, not sure what he meant. You always looked at him like that, and he never complained about it. But now, suddenly, he did. You narrowed your eyes, tilting your head slightly to the side. The smile and the soft expression were still visible, and he cursed himself quietly.

“Like you actually care, like you could actually love me. A monster, the animal I was turned into. The one that’s still there, because you can’t... you can’t love it,” he groaned. Logan was desperate for love, for affection — things he never got but still craved. But on the other side, he was too scared to admit it — to let someone close — it was too dangerous that he could hurt that person. That Logan could hurt the one person who meant everything to him — you.

He ran his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes for a moment. Logan needed a moment to breathe deeply, trying to calm himself down — or else he would be on his knees begging you for love. He let himself fall back on the couch next to you; there was still some distance, but you felt his weight pushing down the cushions underneath you.

“Just— please stop looking at me like that, like I could be more than just an animal,” he mumbled, loud enough for you to understand. Your heart felt heavy as he spoke those words. You knew he had trouble seeing the worth in himself, but you didn’t think he thought of himself as an animal and nothing else.

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, a soft gasp leaving them. You were speechless; so many thoughts ran through your head, but none of them wanted to be spoken out loud.

You knew what he did, but you also knew that it wasn’t his decision that he was used for experiments. Used because he was a mutant; he was used by then so they could get his DNA so they would have been able to make more “of them." They tried to break him, tried to make his abilities as best as they could to copy him after. They just needed him as a weapon, as an animal who didn’t care, who just did whatever and whenever they told him to do the assignment.

“Logan—“ you got interrupted by his low growl. A cold shiver ran down your spine, and you liked him directly into his eyes, trying to understand why he wanted to push you away. His brown orbs were staring into yours while you tried to bring the thoughts into your head in an order.

“Don’t. Just don’t.” He shook his head; his expression was pleading — you have never seen him that pained and broken from the inside before. But the way he looked at you, pleading eyes that were watering slightly, your heart clenched, and you just wanted to reach out and assure him that he was way more than what he thought about himself. “Please, can you just stop looking at me like that, bub.”

You nodded slightly, not really liking the idea of looking at him any other way than you always did. Your smile faded, and you turned your face to look at the little table in front of the couch you were sitting at. Logan groaned next to you; he didn't like the idea of you looking away from him either, but he just couldn't let you give him the hope that he could ever be more than the animal he was.

“How do you want me to look at you?” You asked, your voice cold and caused a shiver to run down his spine. He swallowed thickly, unsure how to answer your question — he didn't know, he really didn't. “Do you even want me to look at you?”

His heart clenched; he wanted nothing more than you looking at him. Logan needed you to look at him, but on the other side, he just couldn't handle the thought of being able to break such an innocent and sweet soul like yours. He was rough, blood stuck to his hands, and he was a monster, but you? You were the sweetest, most adorable, and most precious person he has ever met. Logan couldn't allow himself to let someone like you be close to someone like him — he didn't deserve your love, and you would be safer when you didn’t give him hope to be more than just an animal.

“I–I want you, just…” He inhaled deeply. His heart felt so heavy when he saw half of your face. The light and happiness almost completely turned into darkness and sadness. He didn't want to hurt you, but he couldn't bear seeing you act around him like he was actually loveable. “I want you to look at me, bub. Just not with that sweet and innocent expression, because—”

You interrupted him when you turned your face toward him. And in the very moment he wanted to say sorry, to ask you to just forget about his ask. The coldness — just like he asked for — was visible in your eyes; as much as he tried to push the upcoming fear that he could have pushed you away now, he liked it better — not for himself but for your protection.

“Thank you for letting me decide who I think is worth my love and who isn't,” you said. Without another word or waiting for an answer, you got up from the couch, shaking your head. Your heart broke into pieces the further you walked to the door and away from Logan. His mouth dropped open as he watched you leave the room, knowing that you wouldn’t look back. His words were stuck in his throat, and he couldn't help but feel his heart breaking as well.

As much as he wanted to protect you from him, he couldn't handle your cold shoulder either. Plus, he did break your heart now anyway — so maybe he should have given you the chance to decide if you could love him. But only maybe, because deep down he knew he did neither deserve you nor your love.

Only when the front door of his apartment closed with a loud thud, he blinked again and let the air he was holding in out slowly. “Good job, Logan,” he mumbled to himself before running his hand over his face and trying to calm himself down. Maybe you just go for a walk and come back after?

“Bub, please,” he mumbled, hoping you would finally pick up. It’s the at least fifth time he tried to call you, but there was still no answer. You didn’t reply to his messages, and you didn’t pick up when he called. Logan just wanted to make it up to you; he wanted to take back all those things he said and just keep going to the point where you stopped before he asked you to look with a less lovely expression at him.

There was still no answer, and he was almost ready to break everything around him as he suddenly noticed the slightly shuffling coming through his phone. His abilities were good enough for him to hear your soft breathing through the speaker, and he immediately relaxed.

“I’m so sorry, Bub. Can we talk, please? I need you to listen,” he breathed out, his voice pleading, almost desperate already. He needed you to listen, to let him apologize, and maybe just forget about everything he said so you wouldn’t look so broken any longer — the picture of you so sad haunting him for hours already.

You hummed, not trusting your voice enough after all these hours of crying. You wanted him to know that you were listening and you wanted to say something, but you also didn’t want him to think he hurt you. Even though he did, he would only hate himself more for something he couldn’t change — for something you have to work through together. But Logan would blame himself for hurting you, comparing himself with the animal they told him he was.

“O-okay,” you mumbled with a hoarse voice, hating yourself for sounding exactly like you didn’t want to sound. And he knew immediately that you cried; Logan’s heart clenched, and he hissed. “I-I’m listening.”

“Are you crying? Please, don’t. I’m so sorry. C-can I come over? Please, let me just come over, okay?” Logan asked; his voice was shaking, and you tried to swallow another sob down that threatened to slip past your lips. Your heart was still hurting; his words were running through your mind, but yet you still needed to see him just as bad as he wanted to be around you.

The silence made him go crazy; he just wanted to hear you allowing him to come over. He just needed to hear your voice, to feel your small body pressed against his way bigger one.

"Please, can I? I need to see you; I need to hold you... so bad.” Logan’s voice was almost like a whisper while he was biting his lip, drawing blood.

“O-okay,” you said just as quietly before you heard him rushing through his apartment to get everything he needed — keys, phone and a jacket. You almost smiled softly as you imagined the way he rushed through his apartment, placing his keys in the kitchen to try and find them on the floor. His phone was most likely placed in the living room on the couch, but he was looking in the kitchen.

After the two of you hung up, you grabbed a glass of water, trying to take away the roughness in your voice that came with the soreness of your throat. And just when you finished your glass, you heard the keys in the apartment door, knowing that Logan broke a few tempo limits — but he didn’t care, not when he knew that you were waiting for him. That he could make it all up to you, that he at least would be able to apologize for saying those things.

When he took off his shoes and threw his jacket and keys to the side, you could already hear him stomping through the floor. The thick, smelly air of the amount of cigarettes he has the last couple of hours following him. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were just as red as yours as he stood in the doorframe of your living room and looked at you.

Logan may have a key; he could walk in and out whenever he wanted, but right now he just wanted you to feel comfortable around him — so he didn’t want to overstep anything in storming into your apartment without your permission. And the fear to scare you away was the only thing that stopped him from pulling you into his thick arms and holding you until he removed every little bit off the shit he said earlier.

“Bub, I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, watching you intensely. You nodded, looking him up and down — he was a mess, broken, and hurt. Just like you, he looked just like you. He was the one who hurt you; he doesn’t think he has a right to be sad or hurt, but somehow he was still feeling it.

“Stop blaming yourself, okay? Your feelings are valuable; you’re allowed to feel them,” you said, your eyes moving to his face. You shivered as his intense hazel eyes were staring into yours, trying to read everything you could think or feel.

This time it was Logan who nodded. He pushed himself off the doorframe and walked closer, slowly. “I try, but we both know it’s in me. Can I?” He asked, pointing at the empty space on the couch next to you.

“It’s not just you, not just me. It’s a problem between us,” you mumbled, waiting for Logan to sit down. He placed his thick arm over the backrest, turning toward you. “It’s just… I hate that you do that.”

“Telling you to look less lovely at me?” The shaking of your head confused him. How could something else be the reason for you being mad when it was the very moment you turned cold as he said he didn’t want you to look at him with that sweet and lovely expression. “How can it not, Bub?”

“I don’t like that you want to decide who I can love and who not. That you try to push me away because you’re scared to hurt me,” you explained, making his eyes go wide. “You’re acting like you don’t matter, but you fucking do. For me, for me you matter, Logan.”

He watched you; his hand moved closer to you until his fingers brushed over your shoulder. “‘M sorry, bub. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just… struggle?”

“Can we struggle together at least?” You asked, tilting your head to the side to place it on his muscular arm. You noticed his muscles tensing and the quiet sound of his claws coming out of his hands. You chuckled; a small smile was playing around your lips. “If you need to steady yourself, do it. But could you maybe not destroy my couch with your claws?”

Logan immediately looked at his hand, noticing his claws before he swallowed thickly and tried to calm himself so he wouldn't destroy your couch. His eyes wander back to yours; he loved the way your expression was so soft and lovely around him again. He couldn’t imagine you looking at him any other way; he didn’t want to think about your cold, broken look any longer.

“You know... I can’t help myself. I need to kiss you so bad, bub,” he mumbled, inching closer to you. Logan brought his other hand to your chin; his thumb brushed over your skin, and you sighed softly. “You’re just so—”

“Caring and lovely? You told me, Logan. But then I prefer that you kiss me instead of breaking the fabric of my couch,” you laughed softly. It was the sweetest laugh he has ever heard. “And stop looking at me like that. You may not believe it, but you deserve love, like everyone else — even more actually. And even if you wouldn’t, please let me decide if I want to lo—“

Logan interrupted you before you could even finish your sentence. His lips were soft as he pressed them with such a forever against yours. The feelings he tried to push away were overwhelming; whatever he would try, he couldn’t back off anymore — but he didn’t even want to. His lips were moving slowly against yours, not quite dominant but serious — he put everything into the kiss he could possibly show you.

“You mean like that?” He asked, grinning at you. You shook your head, earning a soft chuckle from Logen. “I love you, bub.”

“Mhm… thought you would never say that. Because I love you too. And not even you can stop me from feeling that way, Mr. Howlett,” you said, your forehead resting against his. You felt his breath on your lips, and it made you crave more of his soft but dominant kisses.

“I’m glad I can’t. Because your coldness wasn’t something I enjoyed, Mrs. Howlett,” he smirked before pressing his soft, plump lips against yours once again. Even though you weren't ‘Mrs. Howlett’ just yet, it was more than just a joke. It was a promise that you’re going to be his, completely. He was going to propose at some point; maybe he needed some time to get used to your love, but he knew that he would with some time and that he would return the love just as much.

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[themissinghand]

aahghh i'm happy that your requests r open :33 i want to ask for a Jinwoo x sleepy male/gn reader.. basically the reader falls asleep somewhere but always wake up in the most random places. Bellion has found them sleeping somewhere in the shadow realm more than once and no one knows how they got there. it's actually concerning-

this can either platonic or romantic idc rly

take care!

Solo Leveling: Sleepy Bois are Cute Too!

Summary: 3 times that Jinwoo caught his partner falling asleep on him, and the one time he didn’t. Not in any particular order.

In which Jinwoo is worried, but you reassure him every time. 

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x sleepy GN! reader

Note: Last one for 2023! Will be back in the new year :) 

Warning: None. Just fluffy goodness. 

★・・・・・・★

Jinwoo is worried about your sleeping antics.

He’s worried that when you fall asleep, he will never find you again. 

He took all the precautions, making sure there was a shadow soldier by your side when you fall asleep, keeping a tracker on you (with your consent of course!), and even taking you on his missions to ensure you don’t disappear on him. 

“Jinwoo-ah, don’t worry, I can protect myself.” 

Sure, you were an A-class weapon maker, and yes, you knew how to use your weapons well, but no matter how much you reassure him, Jinwoo is a protective person by nature, knowing how dangerous the world can be. 

He also knows how dedicated you are to your craft, spending days on end without sleep or food to create S-class grade weapons for the world to marvel at. 

But it was only more of a reason for him to protect you from those greedy hunters and associations! 

Perhaps that was where your sleeping habits stem from, the lack of sleep.

It didn’t start off this way, as at the beginning of your relationship, Jinwoo found you cute for dozing off like a baby. 

It was during a movie night, where the two of you cuddled on the bed, and holding each others’ hands. You dozed off very shortly after the movie began, and Jinwoo couldn’t help but pull you closer into a hug. 

Loving your warmth and the peace you bring, Jinwoo easily fell asleep by your side. 

Only to wake up with you not by his side. 

In panic, he rushed around the shared home to find you, only to get a call from his sister, and see you at his mom’s house. Apparently, Jinah found you sleeping in Jinwoo’s old room.

“It happens sometimes…but don’t worry! I’m usually safe.” Your reassurance didn’t make Jinwoo feel any better about it. 

The next time, it was when the two of you were bathing together. 

Jinwoo hummed, satisfied and relaxed, as you washed his hair, scratched his head, and massaged his shoulders. Your voice was soothing, as you told him about your next weapon idea. 

Until suddenly, he felt a hard knock onto his back, making him turn around quickly to see you dozing off. 

He withheld a snicker before he switched your positions, and had you lay on him. 

“(Y/N), how could you sleep in the middle of doing something?” Jinwoo whispered, and although he gently rocked your body, he didn’t bother trying to wake you. 

Jinwoo made sure you were comfortable, and finished the bath, before carrying you like a princess to your shared bed. 

“Jinwoo?” Your slurred words made him smile, and he placed a kiss on your forehead. 

“Bedtime, your favourite time is here.” 

“Yay~” Your dopey smile made him happy as he covered the both of you with a blanket. Jinwoo snuggled close, and this time, made sure to hold you tight, so you wouldn’t disappear on him again. 

Your little snores, and light breathing lured him to sleep. 

The next day, you were gone. 

This time, he searched the home, and even checked with his mom and sister, but nothing. 

This time, he panicked, and immediately searched everywhere for you. 

Like a parent who lost their child, he searched far and wide, until he found you sleeping on top of the Korean Hunters Association’s building. He immediately hugged you close, waking you up from your drowsy state. 

“Jinwoo? What’s wrong?” You who have just woken up from your long sleep didn’t understand why Jinwoo was hugging you so desperately. You patted his back as you rested your head on his shoulder. 

“Are you okay? How did you even get up here?” 

“What are you talking about-” Finally registering your current location, you were shocked. 

“This isn’t our home.” 

When Jinwoo registered your confusion, then acceptance (almost too easily), he couldn’t help but feel helpless. If you didn’t know how you got here, and he didn’t sense your disappearance twice in a row, Jinwoo knew he had to be careful. 

This was when you and him talked of the dangers and of the precautions you should take to ensure your safety. 

One time, Jinwoo had a nightmare. 

Of the times where he was still an E-class hunter, where he was still weak, poor, and helpless. 

Of the times where he had nothing to his name, but only shame and disappointment. 

He felt powerless, feeling the shadow of a cold blade cutting into his flesh and warm blood spill from his body. 

“Jinwoo!” 

He woke up to you calling his name and wiping his face. 

“Jinwoo! Are you okay-” Jinwoo hugged you tightly, knocking the air out of your lungs for a moment, as he inhaled your scent. 

He then noticed you wearing his hoodie, clearly oversized for you, and your messy bed hair. 

Then he remembers you, who had taught him how to use different weapons, and how to not get scammed by weapon dealers. 

From then till now, you have supported him, and he has found your talent in return. 

“There there, my little king.” Jinwoo smiled as he felt little pats to his back, and kissed the crook of your neck. 

“Thank you, (Y/N).”

“Always.” 

The next time, when you disappeared, Jinwoo knew where you were immediately. 

He didn’t panic, nor did he fret, though this time, he really did question your abilities as an A-class weapon maker. 

Were you really an A-class hunter at this point?

Jinwoo observed, perplexed, as you once again emerged from an unexpected slumber, this time in the shadow realm. 

With a yawn, you flipped to the other side on the throne, and without any sense of danger, you curlled into a ball, and fell asleep again.

Jinwoo quickly went over to you on the throne, and picked you up, before sitting down and placing you in his lap. He made sure you were comfortable before he looked to Bellion for any explanation. 

“My Liege, I…have no excuses. I was unable to sense any changes in the shadow realm and was unable to find out how Their Highness was able to arrive here.” 

Bellion, equally puzzled, knelt before the two of you, ashamed. 

“Bellion, stand. It’s not your fault. Even I can't sense when they disappear. But keep others updated on the situation.” Bellion nodded, before standing and leaving you two space. 

"How does this keep happening?" Jinwoo asked, and sighed, concern etching onto his face. Even so, he caressed your cheek, and woke you from your slumber.

Like a cat, he saw you scrunch up your face, and even pushed his finger away, before popping open one eye.

“Jinwoo? Where am I now?” It became a habit of yours now to observe your surroundings every time you woke up. 

“In my realm, in my castle, and on my throne.” 

“Huh.” It took a moment for you to process.

“How did I get here?” 

“No idea. But I'd rather have you here than outside.” 

“Well. This is new.” You ruffled your messy bed hair, before a hand pulled your chin back to face Jinwoo. 

“You were sleeping on my throne…were you thinking of me?” Jinwoo’s hand slowly cradled your face as he stared at you with intent. 

“Maybe?” You cheekily answered, before replicating the same action back. However, you steal a quick little peck to the corner of his lips. 

In the next moment, his mouth lands on yours passionately, completely taking your breath away as he pulls you in further and further, until you’re completely at his mercy.

Pinned to his throne, wearing his oversized black silk pajamas, and puffy lips, you realize that maybe you should learn to control your sleep antics. 

[staytinyville]

OUTLAW (25)

ATEEZ poly!ot8 x Reader

Cowboy AU / Wild West

Series Masterlist

Warning: none, another spicy chapter you already knoooow

A/N BETA READ (@mariana-mmtz). Tell me more. We love Jongho my boy needs more love. Turn it up for him!! Also yes. I too would click quickly on updated stories lol. Thank you for liking it so much!

For all 9 people to be packed into one tent, there wasn’t much room to move about. If someone were to trip, the entire tarp was going to come down. However, each one of you were beyond worried and wanted to hear first hand what the diagnosis for Jongho was. 

“Out of all the weapons those gang members have, you get injured from falling into a hole.” Yeosang had a deep set frown, harshly wrapping Jongho’s knee between two sticks while still being gentle.

“At least he took out that one guy with him.” Wooyoung pointed out. 

It seemed that the story went; Jongho was throwing punches with a guy when he stepped into a hole and his ankle twisted. From doing this, his knee gave out on him, which made him fall. While being on the floor he took the chance to pull on his assailant’s leg to trip him. From there, Jongho was able to find a branch and beat him with it.

“I'm fine.” Jongho winced when Yeosang lightly pressed his fingers into the side of the knee in warning.

“Jongho, your leg is purple.” Yeosang sighed. “You probably irritated your old injury.”

Yeosang stood up after placing Jongho’s leg down onto the bedspread. The boy had been brought in to lay down, the others making sure he was off the injury. 

“I wouldn't be surprised if it's a sprain. You should be fine in a couple of days if that's the case, though.” Yeosang explained. “Just keep off it and wrapped tightly. No leaving the bed for today and tomorrow. You can start to walk on crutches in a few days.”

“But we have things to do-” Yeosang held up a finger to stop Jongho.

“We do.” The man pointed to himself and the others. “You can rest here for the time being.” The look in his eyes held no room for an argument. 

You knew Yeosang was the one who cared for them when in a medical emergency and you could see he took his expertise very seriously. The others seemed to also be wary of him when he was acting as doctor. They looked like they wouldn’t dare to go against Yeosang’s orders.

“What am I supposed to do?” Jongho pouted, crossing his arms.

“Nothing!” Wooyoung exclaimed with a smile. “Enjoy your time. Sounds like you'll be having a blast!”

“I'm sorry, Jongho.” Yeosang sighed. “I know you get antsy, but you have to stay in bed tomorrow.” 

Yeosang’s words only made Jongho’s pout deepen. “What if I need to pee?”

“One of us will take care of you.” The boys who were near you suddenly cringed, silently groaning. “Don't worry.” Yeosang added. 

“I'll take care of him.” You spoke up, moving the boys aside to reach Jongho. 

You came up beside Yeosang, the boy looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows. By the look on Jongho’s face, the older boy knew the younger one was not too excited about you taking care of him. 

“You sure?” He asked you.

“Yeah, don't worry about it.” You gave Yeosang a reassuring smile. “If I need help I'll be sure to call for one of you.” You looked at the others, giving them the same smile.

“Alright then. Sounds like a plan.” Wooyoung slapped the person next to him on the shoulder. Mingi squeaked, giving Wooyoung the side eye.

As the boys all shuffled out, making sure to tell Jongho to listen, Yunho walked closer to you. “If he makes you upset, don't be afraid to come to one of us.” He told you softly.

While you weren’t upset with the boy, he knew that Jongho was holding some kind of resentment towards you after that night. It was a stupid reason, but hopefully you both could solve it with the time you spend with him. 

“I'll be fine.” You told Yunho. He hummed, turning around to leave the two of you alone.

There was a moment of awkward silence as the two of you were alone in the tent. You looked around for a bit, taking note of everything before wanting to make small talk. “Would you like anything?” You asked. 

“No.” He immediately told you. 

He kept his eyes on his leg, poking at it as he messed with the pain it gave him. He didn’t flinch or make a sound, so you knew he would stop right before things got too painful. 

“Seonghwa is making dinner. I'll bring it to you when it finishes.” You told him, turning around to leave, but you stopped short.

He hadn’t given you an answer when you reached the door so you whipped back around to look at him. “Are you mad at me?” You spoke up, almost shouting it, as you didn’t have a proper hold on your emotions. 

Jongho’s head whipped up to look at you, a confused expression on his face. “Where would you get that?” He shook his head. 

While his words were meant to deter you from thinking he was in fact mad, the way he looked at you made you think otherwise.

“You've been avoiding me since last night. I wanted to speak with you.” You looked down, fiddling with your fingers.

“You're speaking now.” Jongho shrugged. 

“Jongho.” You told him exaggeratedly, getting annoyed with the way he seemed to dodge your questions. 

He looked away from your glare, jaw clenching as he tried to come up with what to say. “Sorry. I'm just annoyed.” He sighed. 

You huffed as you looked at his knee. “It's only for one day. You can move again soon.” You told him. “Yeosang said you irritated your old wound. Have you hurt your leg before?” You asked him quietly

“Yeah.” Jongho sighed. “It's sensitive to certain movements.” He moved his knee a bit, wincing from a surge of pain.

“I see.” You nodded your head. You looked around once more, dropping your shoulders when he wasn’t going to talk more to you. “I'll leave you to it then.” You turned around, planning to actually leave this time. 

However, he was the one who called out to you. “Why are you still here?” He asked you. You whipped your head around to look at him, confused. “You could be at home in a nice bed, working in the hotel.”

Your jaw ticked as you looked down. There was a growing pain in your chest at his words that made tears almost pool in your eyes. “Do you want me gone?” You asked him quietly. 

Jongho began to frown at your tone. It hurt him to have you think he didn’t want you to stay. To stay by their sides. He knows the other’s would be happy with the way he was speaking to you, but all he could think about was the smile on your face if you were to have a better life. 

“No.” He answered, looking down at his lap. 

“Then why are you pushing me to leave?” You walked over to his side, falling down onto your knees to sit next to him. 

“Because you don't deserve this.” Jongho admitted to you.

You knew where he was coming from, but all of a sudden you felt angry with how he was choosing things for you.”Why do you get to choose what I deserve? Better yet, how could you know what I deserve?” You told him. “You don't know me.”

“You don't know us either!” Jongho retorted. 

“What if I want to!?” You suddenly asked. You took in a deep breath, trying to calm down as tears pooled in your eyes. “You-You all make me feel like I'm somebody. Like I'm meant to be here.” You admitted to him. 

“I have never once ever made a friend who didn't belittle me for the way I thought or acted. You guys don't make me feel like I'm the strange one. But you keep saying I don't deserve this, which means I don't deserve to be happy.” You looked down, hands clenching your pants. 

Jongho suddenly felt lost for words, realizing how harsh he was being with you. “I didn't mean that-” 

“But you still keep pushing me away.” You cried. “It hurts to have you think that.” You sniffled lightly. 

He tried to scoot closer to you, to bring you into his arms in a hug. When you noticed his movements, you were quick to allow yourself to fall forward. “Love, I'm sorry. That's not what I want.” He whispered into your hair.

“Then why are you doing it?” You asked quietly, your words muffled by his shirt. 

Jongho pursed his lip, looking up at the roof before leaning back down to pull you closer to him. “Because it'll make me selfish to keep you here.”

You pulled back to look at him. “Aren't we all selfish?”

“Not you.” He shook his head, hand running over your cheek. “Never you.”

You saw his eyes flicker down to your lips, which prompted you to do the same. “How would you know?” You asked him. 

“Because I know you.” He pulled you closer, his nose rubbing against yours. “No matter what you do, you'll always think about others first.”

With a suction of breath, you pulled yourself to touch his lips with yours. His hands were warm as they moved to your neck and pulled you closer. You noticed how his kiss was soft yet demanding. He wanted you to know that, while he was sweet about it, he was the one moving you along. 

You raised to your knees to get closer to him, which led him to place his hand on your waist. As you shuffled closer, his hands bunched up your shirt. Jongho didn’t use his tongue like the others had, which made you lick his lips just the tiniest of bits. He suddenly sucked in a breath as his nostrils flared from the contact. 

Your eyes flew open as he suddenly gripped your waist around his arm and moved you to fall into his lap. You squeaked, but Jongho didn’t allow you to pull back from him. With his other arm, he made sure to keep your head close to his. He didn’t want you to break the kiss and you knew that. 

You began to pant as his mouth only seemed to push you along, lifting your hips up to get more comfortable in the man’s lap. Before you realize it, you swing one leg over Jongho’s thighs, straddling him. Jongho took advantage of the position to place both hands on your back and pull you closer. His good knee lifted, which caused you to shift further up his legs. 

You pulled your lips from Jongho’s, however the man took the invitation to continue kissing down your jaw. Your head fell back as the new sensations left shivers going down your spine. Your fingers moved to the back of his neck, hands finding their way into his shirt to feel his heated skin. You stuck your hand down the back of his shirt, nails scratching lightly. 

Your other hand went to his scalp, digging into his hair. When his lips suddenly touched your collar bone, you leaned back onto his lifted knee, causing him to pull forward. As you did so, you let out a moan from the juncture between your thighs rubbing up against him. Your eyes went wide as you both stared up at each other. 

“Sheesh, Love.” He returned to your mouth like a starved man this time around. 

He wasn’t careful anymore–he allowed his hands to roam every part of your covered body as they pleased. Jongho grabbed fistfuls of the side of your thighs, digging you deeper onto his lap. You fell forward, feeling the pressure on your most sensitive area. It left you panting and wanting to rub against it more. 

However, you were quickly stopped when you realized just how fast you were going. The build up was already coming up on you, which made you pull back from Jongho as you tried to calm down your racing heart. 

He allowed you to lay your head down on his shoulders, feeling your thighs twitch on his as you tried to come down from the stimulation. He frowned to himself as he noticed how sensitive you truly were, deciding to soothe your skin by rubbing your back.  

“Are you okay?” He asked you quietly.

“Yeah,” You answered. “I’ve just never done that before.” You pulled back from him, suddenly feeling something between your legs. 

Your eyes went wide and you made quick work of getting off him. “I’m so sorry!” You gasped, falling backwards. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Jongho frowned, watching your flushed face. When he noticed how you seemed to shy away from him, he came up with a conclusion. “Have you never done any of that before?” He asked you, tilting his head. 

You shook your head slowly. “I had my first kiss with Mingi.”

Jongho’s eyes suddenly went wide as his hands dropped beside him. “Well, that’s kind of important.”

Series Masterlist

@thefrog3223 , @iarayara , @0rangemilk , @explorewithd , @detectivedoodle , @bangtanxberm , @a1i33a , @loveforred , @drunken-deitence , @0325tiny , @the-ghostest-with-the-mostest , @atinyreads , @atinytinaa , @lexiigom , @smilingtokki , @mismatchfluffysocks , @brain-empty-only-draken , @sousydive , @alex-tinyy , @h3arteyes4mingi , @onedumbho3 , @popcatx0 , @blue1amory , @mommahwa1117 , @sunnyhokyu , @cloudieclair , @araknoid , @starjoongi1117 , @chel-awingcherry , @puppyminnnie ,

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 1125 - Initial Thoughts

A week break gone and now we're back again

It always takes so long but we return to One Piece. Elbaf is on the horizon, and while questions float over Vegapunk there may still yet be a little more before we reach the land of giants.

Let's see what we have

Spoilers for the Chapter, Support the Official Release too!

Yamato's latest pit stop is the still-rebuilding Oden castle

Minatomo the carpenter has gone missing, so I guess that's the next step - probably missing his student who happens to actually be very skilled at carpentry

The WG continue to wrap things up on Egghead, ready to load the Seraphim and leave, we don't know what they intended for the Mark IIIs and the Weaponized Sea Beasts though

Lucci and Kaku board with angered faces, claiming Stussy was KIA

Unusual for Lucci to lie about that though isn't it?

Saturn though wraps up the benefits of the operation, citing that getting York and the Mother Flame is a win, but there was one critical hiccup

The Vice Admirals are in audience with him, and apologize for failing to capture Bonney and the Straw Hats even with a Grand Buster Call

They ask to make chase to Elbaf, but are turned down

The true hiccup was Vegapunk's message getting out

He also mentions that the awakening of Emeth was ironic

We get a flashback 200 years ago, turns out Emeth being studied on was by Saturn's permission! He wanted the tech for military might

Man literally left a 200 year chekhov's gun on the table

As Saturn mulls about Emeth, Vice Admiral Doberman makes a foolish mistake, and asks if that means Vegapunk's message was true

And thus he gets eyeshotted, though he seems to just be KO'd, since they call a medic

Something's happening in the Labophase though

York sees a ton of clouds in the lab, and realises that a plan has been undertaken

Edison's not dead! But York is trying to rectify that

But it's a feint, and as York fires to the side the top half of the egg floats away

Punk Records has been swiped from the clutches of the WG

Back at Marejois and naturally, the Celestial Dragons are not taking the low food supplies well

Sadly that means lots of killing and blaming

Akainu catching a stray for not capturing Kuma, but it seems that most of the Dragons were unaware of Vegapunk's reveal

Figarland Garling approaches the remaining Gorosei in their usual place

He has new orders: York is under his command now, because he's the new Minister of War

Saturn fucked up and now he just got demoted! That really ruins the planet motif

Oh but what of Saturn? He screams in agony on his ship

Looks like Imu has no use for him, and the black haze that seemed to restore them from damage now suffocates him

The Vice Admirals just look in horror, unknown to what's causing this

The seemingly impervious Saturn retches and grows thinner, almost hollowed out

Imu tells him their motives; Joy Boy was allowed to escape, so they are responsible

Black smoke and flames erupt from the ship, and what remains of Jaygarcia Saturn is just bones

Back at the now floating Punk Records, it seems the satellites are all alive, chatting among each other

Shaka notes they intended to get the whole Fabriostratum, but they're glad to get Punk Records out of York's hands

Pythagoras notes that she can still link up with Punk Records, but it'll only to be to fulfill its original intention

Shaka predicts it'll still take 500 years to achieve its true objective

But everyone thinks they're dead so there's limited pursuit, but that also means no funds

Edison has a new body, a frankenbody of spare parts

His own head, Atlas and Pythagoras' arm, and Shaka's torso and legs

Shaka also jabs at Edison for always admiring his height

Atlas however wants York's spare parts thrown out, which the rest of the group agree on

It is very fortunate Sanji never found this room of spare body parts

Edison also has another connection up his sleeve, and calls Weatheria!

Over to the Revolutionary Army and they are gathering the intel from Vegapunk's message

They also conclude that whoever gets the One Piece gets access to the power to destroy the world too

Belo Betty seems like she is ready to oppose the pirates, and in turn Luffy and Robin

Sabo doesn't comment, only noting that it explains why the first Celestrial Dragons took up home on the Red Line

Oh! Tequila Wolf wasn't the only one...Vodka Wolf, Rum Wolf and Bourbon Wolf

We know there's a Vodka kingdom since that's where Kaido came from, wonder if that's a connection

Dragon mulls on the coast, noting how many will take Vegapunk's message to scramble for higher land

Looks like Dragon's got a boot up the ass, to speed up his plan

Well this is interesting

The power structure has changed, Figarland Garling is our new Gorosei, Saturn is no more. A brutal death to a seemingly unkillable being at the hands of Imu, but the interesting part is what it tells and what it implies. Saturn was a person, and it seems that Imu was able to keep him alive for so long, at least 200 years. Does that mean there were other Gorosei back in the day? And does the Gyuki transformation transfer over to Garling? Will he be empowered with a new shape? The World Government may still have York and the Mother Flame, but the loss of Punk Records is huge! I guess that's what Lilith meant by them not being dead, I guess they all still can connect to one satellite and share the body. The frankenbody is unusual, though I wonder if they'll come back in a different shape next time, following refinement for convenience given how weird their proportions are right now. Interesting not to hear the Stella talk either, I guess he could still be the brain jar but maybe he is the sole casualty?

The Celestial Dragons starving may've killed a Gorosei but it will lead to more violence and blaming, not gonna be good for the current climate, which is probably why Imu anticipates war. Imu is definitely paying attention to Luffy now, calling them Joy Boy, but Saturn did in a way cause all his own undoing, from Emeth, Kuma and Vegapunk himself, he underestimated everyone because they were insects to him and they all outwitted him, an ant bite can still kill a man.

The Revolutionary Army look to gear up for something big. They have been making smaller strides in general but maybe now Oda's gonna put them to work. I do kinda hope though that they don't directly oppose Luffy like Koby intends to, Sabo that is your brother and all the RA have friendly ties to Robin. Everyone is like 'this power is dangerous and can destroy the world' but nobody's reminding themselves that Luffy ain't about destroying the world. Like, maybe just help pave the way? The Grand Fleet need to be kicked into gear to help with that too.

All in all a lot to consume and chew on with this chapter, especially compared to the linear brevity of the last. I doubt we'll go to Elbaf next chapter though, we have the dangling thread of Kuma and Bonney still to deal with, and of course whatever game-changing thing is about to happen on the other sides of the world.

Oda and his round numbers man, he loves them round numbers.

[quillthrillswriting]

i'm writing in jealous aang AND a sparring scene in the upcoming ch of "the teenager in the iceberg"- y'all kataang stans are eating GOOOOODDD 🤭

in order to placate you lovelies, enjoy a couple short & sweet excerpts!!!

also, i love the way that tiny aang in the header looks like he's desperately trying to seperate jet and katara 😭🤍

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Sokka rose, crossing his arms as his expression shifted to anger. “The traps are Fire Nation. You can tell from the metalwork- no other tribes can achieve seams this flawless without the aid of a Firebender that can bend blue flame.”

Aang’s nose wrinkled as he gently landed next to Katara. “What do the firebenders want with these forest animals?”

“We won’t be sticking around long enough to find out.” Sokka said decisively as the three began to walk back to where they’d left Appa. “As the leader, I say we get walking AQAP.”

Katara raised an eyebrow. “AQAP?”

“It means As Quickly As Possible.” Sokka recited the acronym as if it was obvious. “It’s a more efficient method of communication. I call them ‘short-word-quick-talkers.’ Trust me, they’re gonna be very popular.”

Katara and Aang side-eyed one another sceptically before falling into step behind Sokka. 

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Katara bent a stream of water from the bottle strapped to her hip, then carefully sent a water-whip straight for their fire, silently proud at how much her late-night practice sessions had allowed her to improve. “Who says you’re qualified to be the boss, all of a sudden?”

“I’m not the boss, I’m the leader.”

Katara scoffed incredulously. “You’re the leader?”

“Naturally.” Sokka puffed out his chest like a peacock pigeon. “I’m the oldest.”

Aang raised an eyebrow, grinning teasingly. “Sokka, I’ve been around for over a century. I have training robes that are older than you.”

Sokka deflated slightly, his shoulders slouching before he managed a retort. “Well, I’m wiser, then. And I have instincts.”

“Ooh, instincts.” Katara wiggled her fingers at him, her voice filled with fake awe. “Please, oh wise leader, share with us your wisdom.”

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“Down you go,” Jet grinned, self-satisfied and authoritative in his stance. Katara beamed back, her lips parted in an amazed expression, while Aang and Sokka’s features quickly settled into irritation. Before long, an archer and a few other kids dropped from the trees surrounding them, and both Aang and Katara jumped into the fray in response alongside the mismatched gang of weapon-slinging kids. Sokka joined in, his irritation visibly rising as Jet took down each soldier before Sokka could even get close to being in range.

“You snooze you loose, man,” Jet shrugged, his hooks snagging on a man who had been about to grab Katara. “Apologise to the lady.” He smirked, then kicked the man hard, dropping him to the side.

“I had her,” Aang grumbled under his breath, occupied with bending currents of wind to sweep soldiers out of the clearing. Katara furrowed her brow at Aang’s irritation, but decided to note it as something to ask about later. Finally, the remaining soldiers scampered out of the clearing in retreat, their shouts and yelps echoing through the forest. Katara still couldn’t take her eyes off of Jet. He sauntered over to her, a roguish grin on his face as he spoke.

“Hey.” He tossed his hair as he said it, his grin directed entirely at her now, and Katara felt a soft blush spread across her cheeks as she looked up at him. She broke her gaze only to check that Aang and Sokka were okay, and as she looked across the field to Aang…

Was she imagining it, or was his jaw clenching? Was she imagining it, or was his normally approachable expression shifting into a deadpan stare?

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

His gaze flicked from Jet to Katara, to the brush brushing her cheeks, the soft smile of her full lips. He was hit by the thought that he wanted to be there, next to her, in Jet’s place.

What was it about Katara that made Aang feel as though he could only breathe when she was around? 

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Katara was too caught up in her Jet-related nerves to notice the way that Aang’s breathing was coming more quickly, that his fists were quickly clenching and unclenching. She walked towards Aang, who was joined by Sokka, only for Aang’s eyes to flit away every time they met hers. She reached out an arm reflexively, her hand lightly brushing Aang’s bicep as her brow furrowed in concern.

“Are you alright?”

His eyes flashed with something she couldn’t quite read, and his jaw clenched before he spoke. “I’m sorry, Katara, I just… I need a minute. My judgement is…impaired, right now."

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

He hesitated a moment before continuing. “Would you… would you care to join me for sparring practice, tomorrow morning? Might help you feel a bit safer next time you need to face off against Fire Nation swine.”

Katara smiled back. “I’d like that.” Jet continued to regale her with stories of all he and his fighters had accomplished as of late, but Katara found herself distracted, her gaze wandering over his shoulder every now and then.

It was not lost on her that Aang’s light had stayed on and his curtains drawn until Jet had returned her to her room for the night.

♥ if you want to stick around for this ch to drop, feel free to head over to the work here! ->

[sleepyfan-blog]

Author's note: Mer-Cedric's Debut in Celestial Seas’! I hope you enjoy it. Bakerin and Quilterin (Arnault's Bonded) belong to the wonderful @kit-williams! Thank you for letting me borrow them. The song Cedric is singing is Amen and Attack by Powerwolf. Next fic

Warnings: none, please ask to tag!

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @@the-pure-angel @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts

Summary: Mer-Cedric trades with a couple of allied baseline humans.

Cedric hummed softly to himself as he gutted and de-scaled the half-dozen large tuna that he had hunted down and caught. He was currently sitting on one of the sand spits that appeared near the shore of the nearby beach. He checked the temperature of the fire by placing a hand near the crackling base of the flames before returning to the task of preparing the tuna.

Most of the time, the young shark mer ate his kills fresh and raw, but he'd recently come into possession of an unspoiled pouch of delicious smelling herbs and spices, and the occasional cooked meal wasn't a bad thing. Besides, the parts of the tuna he wasn't going to be making into grilled steaks were going into the boiling water as part of the stock for a hopefully delicious stew he was also making. He'd sent a request to some of the local humans to please bring fresh vegetables - for which he was happily going to trade some of his tuna meat in exchange - to build out the body of his stew. He'd added some kelp and sea asparagus to the slowly cooking stock, but he was looking forward to trying potatoes and onions for the first time.

Maybe some corn, too! Or mushrooms...

He began to sing one of the holy hymns that his older brothers had taught him as he worked “Fight the demons of this world, no victims left to hide. Eins! Zwei! Amen and attack! Make them pray or make them pay! It's time to swim up right. Drei! Vier! Amen and attack.”

Preparing the tuna felt meditative. He continued to sing as he sprinkled seasonings on half of the tuna steaks, spearing each on a stick and setting them over the fire to cook, his mind wandering to past battles that he'd partaken in, as his voice once again lifted in song.

“When the night is cold and black, we sing amen and attack!”

Deamons and Traitors rarely attacked during the day, preferring instead to use cowardly and weak tactics in order to try and catch their would-be prey off-guard. While the local humans could do little against such supernatural forces, the shiver Cedric belonged to had taken to patrolling the area, ripping into the heretics and demons with their wickedly sharp claws and jaws.

In gratitude, the humans helped however they could. The medical supplies they left out were incredibly useful to Cedric and his fellow apothecaries as they tended to their injured brothers.

“And we lead the storm of the wild! Be the wildest of the pack! Screaming amen and attack!” Cedric belted out as he carefully turned over the tuna steaks, to ensure they were being heated evenly. Even though a majority of his training focused on how to keep his brothers alive and in fighting shape, that did not mean his combat training was lacking.

As an Apothecary of a Black Templar Shiver, one of his duties was to mitigate damage.. and if that meant taking out the largest or most dangerous opponents at range with the weapons he had at his disposal, so much the better. The God-Emperor had blessed them with strength and abilities far beyond mortal ken, and their duties were to protect and defend their charges from all threats.

A duty that Cedric took most seriously.

“We fight with Him on our side! Amen and attack! Attack! Attack! Amen and attack!” Cedric continued to sing. The half of the tuna he wasn't cooking he had carefully wrapped up in treated kelp leaves, to keep the meat fresh and easily transportation.

He hoped that some of the humans who had promised they would come were going to arrive soon. The first of the tuna steaks were nearly ready!

Cedric was about to sing the next verse when he heard approaching footsteps from behind and to the left of him, prompting the young Apothecary to turn and look at the pair of approaching humans.

It took him only a moment to recognize their scents and trilled a greeting to two of his older Brothers' Favorite Humans! He recognized their scents and faces immediately! “Hello Miss Bakerin! Hello Miss Quilterin! It's wonderful to meet you again!”

Both of the baseline humans smiled in response as they came close enough to enjoy the warmth of the fire. Miss Bakerin spoke first “Good afternoon… You are Cedric, yes? The… The healer in training?”

“Yes I am.” Cedric affirmed with a nod, tail flicking happily in the water. As with all Apothecary mers, his tail was primarily white with red flecks. He did have black striping, to match his non-apothecary brothers. “I have tuna to trade! Some are cooking. The rest are raw, and wrapped, as asked for.” He patted the kelp-wrapped meat carefully with a clawed and webbed hand. He could see that both of them had covered baskets and looked curiously at them.

“We… We've brought a bunch of things.” Miss Quilterin explained, setting down the basket she was carrying. “I.. I've been making these out of water-proof fabric.” out from the basket she pulls out a large, patch-work piece of fabric. Each square has a little scene going on, and Cedric can easily tell that she put a lot of work and effort into making this thing.

“May I touch it?” The young mer asked, intensely curious, though he was trying to be polite. “What is it?”

“This is called a story quilt. Arnault has told me about some of the battles all of you get into, so I tried to make a story quilt out of one of his victories… I hope it turned out okay…” miss Quilterin explained, her face calm but her scent showing her anxiety and uncertainty.

Cedric handled the quilt with the proper awe and respect that such a glorious woven-story deserved. The fabric slipped and slid under his fingers, so he gripped it a bit more tightly “this is amazing, miss. Arnault is going to love this when I show it to him.” Given how long it took to carve the glorious victories of the shiver in sandstone, this quilt was worth at least half of his catch. “By the emperor… If I had know that you were going to be bringing such things, I would have been out hunting for longer!”

“R… Really?” Miss Quilterin stuttered, surprise chasing away her nervousness.

Cedric nodded, entirely serious. “It is difficult to keep more permanent records of our battles, in part because we tend to move from sea to sea. From world to world, and must pack light because of it. That and much record-keeping is difficult to manage underwater or in the depths of space. This is a wondrous gift, miss. Thank you, truly.”

He startled at how red Miss Quilterin got “i… truly? That's… I… Oh Goodness…” She stuttered, her eyes huge and her scent fluctuating rapidly between emotions.

and immediately scooted over to her, dragging his tail up and out of the water, carefully telegraphing his movements as he placed one large hand on her forehead, checking her temperature? “Are you not feeling well, miss Quilterin? Please sit down, I do have some of my medical supplies nearby. Is the heat of the fire too much for you?”

Bakerin chuckled and placed a restraining hand on Cedric's elbow. “Easy, Cedric. She hasn’t taken ill or is affected by heat stroke. She rarely gets such high praise for her work and is having difficulties processing what you're saying with grace.”

Quilterin pouted at Bakerin's words and murmured “I… That's not… That's not exactly true! I just… I didn't know that you would think so highly of this story quilt.”

“Uh huh. See what I mean, Cedric? She flustered easily. She's alright.” Bakerin explained with a playful smile. She reached up and ruffled Cedric's hair. “I brought the vegetables you asked for, as well as some bread. You should eat the bread above water, or it will get soggy.”

“Thank you, Miss Bakerin!” Cedric responded, smiling contentedly. “Do you want cooked or raw tuna? Or a mix of both?” he asked the both of them.

“I'll take four uncooked pieces of raw tuna and two of the cooked pieces, please.” Quilterin asked. “I also brought several quilted slings, as Arnault mentioned that they've helped…”

“Miss, when I said the quilt is worth half of what I've caught, I meant it.” Cedric pointed out, carefully gathering up and pushing the correct amount of Tuna in trade for the quilt alone. “The slings are much appreciated, but will need more tuna to pay for… Or, I did see mussels and class near the shoreline, I could grab some of them for you in trade for those, if you'd like a selection of sea food.”

“I… This is too much, Cedric! I won't be able to eat all of this before it goes bad.” Quilterin protested, shaking her head a little.

“The kelp leaves will help keep the tuna fresh for weeks, and older brothers have told me that tuna freezes well and will last for months that way. I can also use some of the curing salts I brought with me to turn some of them into… I believe it's called jerky in this language? Dried meat that can be stored longer. But you will be getting paid what you’re owed.” Cedric responded. He wasn’t going to steal from this kind human, nor short her what she is owed. A pity the pearl oysters aren’t ready yet and have been claimed by Brother Roland and Brother Arnault for gifts for Miss Bakerin and Miss Quilterin. Not that he was going to ruin that surprise.

“I… Even so, this is far too much high-quality meat for one person to have all at once. We baseline humans don't eat as much meat as you do.” Quilterin explained “Nor do we need as many calories.”

Cedric sighed internally, pouting a little. He did have a small handful of treasures he had found and kept - just in case he found a human he wanted to bond to, like brothers Roland and Arnault have, but the slings were too useful and the quilt too expensive, if she wouldn't take the fish meat he offered. “Well… I also have these, if you are interested.”

From one of his armor’s pockets, he pulls out several pouches. In the first pouch, he lays out a dozen carefully polished abalone shells, which he'd found and treated until they shone, their pearlescent luster almost luminous in the afternoon sunlight. From the second pouch, he pulled out six of the best pieces of ocean jasper he'd found. From the third pouch, he pulled four larimar gemstones, their sea-foam coloration and patterns striking against the brown sand spar they were on. “You may choose up to four from these, along with the meat you requested, miss Quilterin.”

She inspected each of his offerings, and he turned his attention to Miss Bakerin asking “Do you want tuna in trade for your goods? Or would you like a mix of things as well?” he was trying not to fidget.

“Tuna works great for me, Cedric.” Miss Bakerin answered with another smile and hair ruffle. “I've brought bread and vegetables, which aren't as expensive. I would like to try that stew your making, when you're done. If you don't mind.”

“Not at all! But there are tuna guts and scales in the stew, and I intended to make it for my brothers, who are out among the shoals right now.” Cedric warned, aware that baseline humans could get picky about things like that. Some of his brothers were wary about baseline humans and were nearby in case of attack. But Miss Quilterin and Miss Bakerin have always been very nice and kind to him - and Cedric doubted that Brother Roland and Brother Arnault would have chosen untrustworthy baseline humans. He handed over the tuna - raw and cooked in trade for the food she'd brought, immediately getting to work on chopping up the vegetables before putting them in the stew.

“I don’t mind the occasional fish scale in my stew.” Bakerin reassured him with a smile.

“Then I’d be happy to share some of it with you, when it’s ready.” Cedric answered earnestly.

“I've picked out which of these gems you're offering… You're sure that the quilt and the slings are worth this much,” Quilterin spoke up. She was holding up two of the abalone shells and one each of the Larimar and ocean jasper stones.

Cedric was sad to see them go, but it was worth it for the high quality supplies offered. “Alright, they are yours, along with the meat you requested.”

“If you don't mind me asking… What was that song you were singing when we were walking over?” Bakerin asks curiously as she arranges the tuna meat he’d given her in the basket she'd come with.

“Oh! It's one of the battle hymns my older brothers taught me.” Cedric explained “I learned it recently and it's been stuck in my head. I hope that the lyrics weren't too off-putting.”

“Nah, you're fine, Cedric. You've got a good singing voice… Does Roland sing? I haven't heard him sing, not that I remember, anyways.”

Cedric blinked in surprise at that “... But… Brother Roland has one of the best singing voices of the entire shiver! He leads the battle choir. Thank you for the compliment, miss.” He checked how the vegetables were cooking, nibbling on a piece of potato. The texture felt off, so he let the stew continue to cook, happy to chat with Miss Bakerin and Miss Quilterin as the veggies cooked.

[dreamwritesimagines]

I stumbled upon your Sunshine HC today while jonesing for my fix and absolutely adore them! I can 100% see Logan not knowing what exactly it is about Sunshine that endears him to her so, it just feels like he'd throttle anyone (other than Theo) who rambles like she does but for some reason he just can't put his finger on it it's (gasp!) cute when she does it.

Secondly, I whole heartedly believe that Sir Bartholomeow adopts Logan when Theo is at home on weekends. Logan doesn't want to like the cat, but it just keeps showing up in his room or laundry or just seeking him out in a room full of people to cuddle up and purr next to, and suddenly before he knows it he's in over his head because every member of the Sunshine family just burrows their way into his heart.

Finally, I saw you post that you are not traditionally a Wolverine/X-Men fan and may I say, I'm *highly* impressed by your Logan!! So many fics have him off the charts OOC but I feel like yours is the perfect blend of gruff yet soft *hearts*

As a lifelong X-Men fan, let me tell you that the Fox timeline absolutely sucks and makes no sense no matter in what order you try and watch. They were all over the place and often not canon to one another.

I can offer a few facts about Logan from the comic book-verse just in case your muse is interested!

He was born in the 19th century as James Howlett, his parents John & Elizabeth were wealthy and it's basically all but spelled out that he's actually the illegitimate son of Thomas Logan, the abusive groundskeeper of the Howletts via an affair with Elizabeth. Side note - Elizabeth and John had another son, John III, who died previous and may also have been Thomas'. Thomas was raising/abusing another son he named (no joke) Dog. A chain of events leads Thomas to kill John, and in turn James' mutation activates and he kills Thomas with his claws and flees. He adopts the name "Logan" and for a time is even living with a pack of wolves.

Eventually he ends up fighting in World War I and II and eventually marries and settles in Japan with his wife. Things go badly (again) and his pregnant wife is murdered - he doesn't know it but the baby was "removed" from her prior to her death and its many *many* years before he meets his son, Daken.

Eventually he's kidnapped into the "Weapon X" program and tortured. The program uses his healing factor against him and forcibly bond adamantium to his bones. Eventually he escapes but is left with post traumatic amnesia. It's at this point that he joins the X-Men and becomes the Wolverine we know and love.

And speaking of Logan as a "girl dad", over the years he unofficially adopts a number of girls including Kitty Pryde (Shadowcat), Jubilee, and Rogue. Ultimately he 'adopts' a girl named Laura Kinney, who is believed to be his female clone (X-23). Eventually they discover Laura is actually his daughter.

And just for some muse food that may impact future!daughter Sunshine, know that both of his kids (Daken and Laura - and Laura's clone Gabby) have *very* similar abilities to him. All three have enhanced senses, strength, healing and claws (amongst other abilities). The claws do vary though - Daken has two on top of his hand and one in his wrist, Laura has two on the top of her hand and one in her foot and Gabby just has one on each hand.

And I'm going to shut up now that I've word vomited just as bad as our dear Sunshine and Theo!

Hi loveeee! 🥰

Aaaaaaa I absolutely love this, thank you so so much! 😍 It's so wonderful to hear that you liked the HCs ❤️

Oh you're absolutely right, if it were anyone else other than Sunshine (and Theo) rambling his ear off, he would be veeery annoyed but he's literally watching Sunshine with heart eyes whenever she does it ❤️

Sir Bartholomeow adopting Logan asdfghjkl, cat distribution system 😂

suddenly before he knows it he's in over his head because every member of the Sunshine family just burrows their way into his heart. THIS IS SO ADORABLEEEE! ❤️ I can just see him walking into his room one day to find Sunshine sleeping there with Theo and Sir Bartholomeow sitting by them like he's guarding them ❤️

And Logan will be walking around with Sir Bartholomeow comfortably sitting on his shoulder at the weekend😂

OMG OMG it is so nice of youuuu! ❤️ I was like very nervous about it at first, because I didn't know if he was in character because I didn't watch all the movies and it's like very recent for me, so it's so lovely to hear that he in fact is in character! 🥰

WAIT WAIT I LOVE FACTS ABOUT LOGAN! AAAAA-

Oh noooo his actual father was evil?! 😱

I'm sorry, his father named his son what-

LOGAN LIVED WITH A PACK OF WOLVES?!

He has a son????

Oh that's why he didn't remember the experiments! 😱

Laura is his actual daughter???

Oh that's very interesting! So their abilities are basically the same as his but with small differences aw! ❤️ I wonder what kind of claws his daughter with Sunshine would have🥰 Her strength will shock them too when it first shows😂

Honey I absolutely LOVE THIS! ❤️ You're so amazing, thank you so so much! 🥰🥰🥰

[tabibitto]

Heirs of the Moon

m.list

CW: angst, death, betrayal, sh, drinking abuse, family disfuncion

Summary: Since the death of Crepus Ragnvindr, His two sons have all but severed ties with each other. Only speaking when they must. And neither brother ever fails to remind the other of the reason why. However strong their hatred for each other, they never managed to show such disdain towards their little sister. But perhaps hate would have been kinder then neglect.

Note: This Story is Built on the Theory of Pierro being Kaeya's father, and the Tsaritsa collecting the gnosises to rebel against celestia

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Prolouge: Winds of Winter

Nothing fucks you harder then time.

A thing I've learned over the years, vile but truer then the words of God. Through this, i have also been taught to never forget who I am.

The world certainly didn't. I was foolish to believe that having a family could have erased who I was taught to be. Or the burdens drilled into us from a young age.

Kaeya did, perhaps he thought pushing me away would have fixed it. Would have kept me safe from the scorching flames he was forced to bare, visionless and scared. Hands shaking as he struggled to keep up with such a heavy and hot weapon.

Such a sight it was. And at times, as I lay awake at night do I remember the event and wonder If my decisions could have made it better

If i tried harder, If i listened more, If i went away when asked and came back when I thought it was right

Engage in conversation but don't be overbearing, listen but don't be quiet. Know when to speak and when not to.

Could it have been possible to say the right thing to someone whom you have no ties with. Bring back a lie and make it a truth.

I've asked myself time and time again. Impossible for a 15 year old to run in and save a man from a full grown Dragon. But perhaps If i tried I could have a brother, maybe two...

No, Kaeya was never to last as my brother. The stupid idiot was too nice to ever keep his mouth shut, he cared about Diluc too much to keep lying to him, to himself.

And I cared too much about our family to tell them.

Now, As I stand in front of hundreds, commanding thousands. Perhaps then would they acknowledge me. Maybe not as Y/N Ragnvindr Or Y/N Albrich. But Y/N, Queen Regent of Khaenri'ah, The 6th Harbinger of the Tsaritsa. A Revolutionist. A Rebel to our world's order.

"Power resides where men believe it resides. It's a trick, a shadow on the wall. And, a very small man can cast a very large shadow." I smiled at my father, jerking my head a little to the side in agreement to his statement.

"Or woman. Your son was never either small nor big enough to cast a shadow large enough to trick anyone. The poor boy has run from the truth of it his whole life. He believes himself a Mondstater." I scoffed, rolling my eyes at such foolishness.

To my surprise, father didn't seem to agree. Infact his chuckle of amusement seemed directed at me then the Calvary Captain in discussion.

"What's so funny?" I asked, placing down my coffee in a tea cup. I was never much of a tea lover like everyone in Mondstat growing up, and in Scheznaya everyone seemed to love their fire-water. I never understood it. Under the influence, no mortal is capable of keeping their mouths shut or wits intact. Doesn't quite make for being in control of yourself does it

"You say that about Kaeya, and yet I have a feeling you're quite infatuated with the place yourself..or should I say the people?" He smirked, and i glared at it.

"Don't be foolish, they mean nothing to me. Simple stepping stones to greatness—one that I will bring our great house of Albrich. Not Kaeya, me!"

I hunched over the chair, hands gripping the arm rests so hard my knuckles turned white. Eyes gleaming with righteousness, madness and excitement all at once.

To rule absolutely and fairly over a people. A great nation that rose itself up from nothing without assistance from Gods, and became strong enough to rival them.

Oh how it made my heart race and knees tingle. Down right arousal at the thought poured over my cheshire grin that extended from ear to ear

"Then If i asked you to bring me the Ragnvindr's head, or even your brother's if need be. God's forbid. Would you?" His head dipped towards me, awaiting my answer almost as eagerly as I seemed towards the thought of being Queen.

My grin dropped as quickly as the snap of a finger. But my resolve didn't. I pursed my lips and my eyes widened in unwavering confidence.

Finally, the question that had haunted my mind. Again and again like waves. Time and time again as I looked at either brother from a distance, watched them smile and chuckle with other people and never at each other. And yet, that hateful look was what i desired more then anything, anything over not being given so much as a distasteful glance.

A question that I inevitably knew would be thrown at my feet, finally brought to my attention. At long last, I can put the thought to rest.

"With pleasure."

[musubiki]

i wanna know more ab the m34th finding out lime’s relationship to the cat witch bc id be like 🧍‍♀️ if i were them just kinda pissed

UHGUHGU THIS IM NOT SUPER SOLID ON!!!!! but i will talk about what i have in my head right now!!

so much potential in every route....one route would be: they recruited him under the assumption he wanted the cat witch for some kind of revenge (because witches bad. why else would one want to look so desperately for them), and is essentially ignorant of his relationship to her. UNTIL we get to some point where for some mission/reason/other, they find out about them.

in my head i see that episode going as: another member finds and hunts down mochi (a fight she almost loses, and a good time to showcase what the m34th can really do). when lime arrives to a near-exhausted mochi backed into a corner, said guy (whoever, one of the more sadistic members) is like "Goldwood! Look, I found her! That stupid bitch of a cat witch has been hiding in the capitol all along! You wanted first dibs right? Now you can do what you want!" anyway lime dismembers this guy. legitimately cuts him off mid-sentance (literally cuts off his arm. i want a cool scene with this asshole clamoring for his life, and lime reveals for the first time to anyone in the m34th that hes vowed to the cat witch before unaliving him)

and when some other members of the m34th arrive (far after that guy is dead and lime has taken mochi away somewhere safe), they start to deduce "Huh... these clean cuts were made by one of our weapons." and slowly over the course of a few days as the investigation into their fallen comrade progresses, it becomes increasingly clear how wrong they were about lime

this also leads to a fight between lime and the other members of the m34th (whoever was on-call in the capitol at the time. SOS emergency mission, someones gone rouge). a fight mochi wasnt apart of, as it started to go down as she was still covering. also a fight that marshal, clarinette, and the squad captain all turned and sided with lime right before the fight

(it was marshals idea. lime was ready to kill every person who tried to get to mochi, but before lime could get his hands dirty, marshal swooped in with the idea of "If we erase their memories of it, we dont HAVE to kill them, and your girlfriend wont be upset with you for it.") (side note: the m34th has a memory-replacement system similar to the memory replace spell witches use. its a little more complicated as the memories can be stored and retrieved with some kind of tech something, but if you can destroy those as well then its like it never happened)

between lime, marshal, clarinette, and the squad captain who covers for all of them, this actually does end up succeeding. (another sad moment for clarinette, helping a roughed up lime limp his way home and having to watch mochi run into his arms again after she just helped save his life)

BUT THE OTHER SCENARIO ALSO HAS A LOT OF POTENTIAL WHICH IS:

(under the same pretense they thought he was after revenge) the m34th knew where the cat witch was the whole time. they couldve easily helped him find her within weeks, but purposely kept him in the dark because they thought if he got what he wanted, he would lose motivation and wouldnt be as good a soilder (this route is better for showcasing the true power/reach/resources/spirit of the m34th)

in a subplot related to the frog witch, mochi gets summoned to the capitol palace by the king to find his missing son, the prince. none of their resources have been able to locate him, so the king figures the strongest witch is the next best bet. then their best m34th soilders (lime included) gets assigned to "watch" her during her mission under the orders of "i dont care how you feel, you arnt allowed to kill her until she finds the prince," and they have to spend the whole time pretending they hate each other and that they never met before in their lives

at the end, the prince is eventually found and mochi requests that if the m34th is going to keep watch over her, that lime be the one assigned to her since she knows him now post-mission. and lime has to pretend to be like "ah hate that cat witch, but this is for a paycheck and shes not super insufferable...so...fine." and so lime being in her guild is still in the dark to the rest of the m34th, but they DO know that he sees her at least semi-regularly with the "check-ins" (which gives birth to the "Cant believe you got seduced by a witch" things hehehe)

EITHER WAY I DONT KNOW YET

[fl3shm4id3n]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕬𝖞'𝕬𝖒𝖍𝖚𝖑 𝕮𝖑𝖆𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓

Tw: mentions of na’vi sacrifices, mentions of death, polyamory, some things may be repeated. 

Author’s note: I wanted to do a little headcanon about the Ay’amhul clan, since I feel that you guys should know a bit more about them outside the Fire and Ash series. A translator is used, I’m not sure if its accurate. Hopefully this makes sense. (I can’t sleep so, I just wrote this)

P.s. I read a comment from my post from earlier seeing that they had an idea for the courting ritual, I liked it so I decided to add it. Thank you @/kuro-nokeiyakusha :3

Masterlist

It is known that it is a Female dominated clan, they’re males but not as many as females. The birth rates for males is very low. When it comes to wanting children, one must give a life in order to have a life of their own.

The reason why they don't have a Olo'eyktan, it is more of a masculine role. So they prefer to just go by as Tsahik, or  Na' le kaajo' (Mother of the people), since the Mother is considered to be the protecter.

They have pale white skin, which resembles the color of ashes. Their patterns are dotted instead of strapped, which are a light pale colored. They either have red or amber eyes, their freckles are yellow and they also glow yellow.

The females average height is 9'7, but can be taller. Males average height is 8′7.

They speak Na’vi but they also have their own language known as Yucatec.

Besides female and Males, they also have a third gender which is called/referred to as a  Ma' binario (Non-binary) it isn’t very common but they have been some people who had identified as a  Ma' binario.

They do practice polyamory, mostly high ranking na’vi, it is very rare for a Tsahik to have a Polyamorous relationship since they lean more towards Monogamy.

Their riding animal is that fire snake and a creature known as a Ahuizotl. 

Their weapons they'll have spears, darts, shields and Macuahuitl. When it comes to a Macuahuitl, they’re made by the na’vi who are doing their Iknimaya. 

Their for of Iknimaya, they must tame a  Ahuizotl, walk a mile on hot rocks and lastly a the ceremony in whish the Tsahik will give them three beads to add to their songcords. Some beads may involve, bravery, loyalty, adulthood and another of any other something they had done or learn. They also receive a name which the people would call them by (For ex. y/n The White Death)

When it comes to death, they have been taught from a young age that death is just a part of life, without death there wouldn’t be life. When death comes to them, they believe that it is an honor and that Eywa has chosen them to join her. Whether is of natural cause or done by sacrifice.

Their courting rituals involve wrestling the female they want to court. She must be brought down during this so called ‘dance’ (that’s how they refer it) if they manage to bring her down, then she’ll accept their advances.

The other form is to show their hunting, this is to show that they’re are a good provider along with their chosen female (both people must provide to each other), if they’re able to hunt like or better than the potential mate then they’ll be close on being the other’s mate. 

The next step is that they have to go for a hunt and bring back the heart of an animal to bring back to the woman that they want, this proves that they do wish to be with the female they desire.

The last step, to show the parents of the female they want, they also must fight their siblings if they have any or parents, this is to show that they’re able to protect their mate as well as be able to fight along side them.

[mostlydeadallday]

Lost Kin | Chapter XXXI | A Simple Task

Fandom: Hollow Knight Rating: Mature Characters: Hornet, Pure Vessel | Hollow Knight, Quirrel Category: Gen Content Warnings: panic attacks, body horror, paranoia, flashbacks, referenced torture, memory loss, referenced abuse AO3: Lost Kin | Chapter XXXI | A Simple Task First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Chronological Notes: If you've seen the warning on Chapter 1 about pronouns, this applies especially to this chapter. Hollow's perception of themself vs. others' perception of them comes into direct conflict here, causing them significant distress, enough to also warrant a warning for unintentional misgendering.

○

The vessel watched.

It watched the strange cricket build a fire in the fireplace, then light it with a flint and steel from his satchel. It watched him bring clean water and hoist it into place over the fire. It watched him fetch soap, rags, everything Hornet would need to clean it, never venturing closer than arm’s reach, and only then to hand the supplies to her before stepping quickly away.

It watched him settle back against the hearth when he finished, watched him watch its sister, watch it, his gaze unflinchingly curious, like the tip of a scalpel prodding at all its wounds and imperfections.

He knew something.

It was not possible for him to be aware of its flaws. It had never met him before, and it had revealed nothing since he stepped through the door. It had not allowed itself to react when he flinched back in fear of it, when he reached for a weapon that was not there. It had not taken the offered comfort of its sister’s hand, though something shameful within it writhed pitifully as she withdrew. And now, when he sat in Hornet’s place on the hearth, one hand resting on his knee, seemingly doing nothing at all, it did not shrink from the warm pressure of his stare, the careful examination of its cracked shell and the infection that lingered there.

Why was he here?

That was not relevant. Its sister had requested that he come here, and that was more than it needed to know. She did not appear to need its protection, and the strange bug didn’t seem inclined to do anything but sit and stare. He carried nothing but that satchel on a belt around his waist, next to an empty loop where a nail would hang. The satchel was too small to conceal much besides a throwing knife, and he appeared too common to have the ability to cast soul-spells. Not harmless, from the way he carried himself, but peaceful.

Hornet turned away from him as she stepped around it, kneeling at its left side. “Would you turn so I can reach your back, please?”

A surge of fear took hold, sweeping its control out from under it. Its next breath hissed again, hooking somewhere in its chest and pulling tight. The cricket was watching, watching everything; he would see the pain it could not hide. Even now he had surely noticed the pause before it followed orders, noting each empty moment that scraped by, another black mark on a page already filled with ink.

Perhaps he was here to see just that. Perhaps its sister needed assistance in recording its failures, in determining a better use for it.

Its heart lurched against its shell, but it did as it was told.

The stump of its shoulder throbbed, as it always did, and dull spikes of pain pushed in under its chest-plates, the deepest cysts jostling and shifting as it moved. Its view of the cricket was obscured as the room flared into white fire, but the vessel kept moving, pulling itself forward with its single arm until it lay partly on its front, its back bared to the damp air, mask tilted to keep as much of the room in view as possible.

It was no longer quite so silent when it relaxed back onto the blankets, each inhale scraping through its throat like a claw over slate. It blinked, clearing the glinting light from its vision.

He was still watching. Even more closely, now.

It lay motionless, trying not to pant, though its vents gaped desperately wide with each inhale. He might attribute this weakness to its wounds—though those wounds in themselves were a failure. If it had been perfect, it would not have sustained any injury from sealing the Radiance away. It would be hanging there now, as still and quiet as the tomb it was meant to be, alive enough to entrap her, dead enough to keep her that way.

He would find out, sooner or later, if he did not suspect already.

This weakness, damning as it was, paled in comparison to what he would have seen had he entered the room a few minutes earlier: the supposed Pure Vessel quivering with fear and longing both, pressing its mask into its sister’s hesitant touch with all the urgency of a drowning thing gasping for air, thoroughly undone by the simple task of answering the questions she’d asked it.

She touched its shoulder now, near its neck, where the chitin was warped but not broken. “Thank you.” It heard her shift, dipping a rag into the water she had heated. “I am only going to touch your back, not your shoulder. None of the blisters here have refilled, and all the wounds seem to be closed.” A pause, punctuated by a rain of droplets as she squeezed out the rag. It did not flinch when she laid the warm fabric against its shell, nor did it relax when she swept the cloth across its shoulder blade.

The cricket did nothing but stare, one finger twitching where his hand dangled casually over the hearth.

Hornet wet the rag again, laying it across a new spot, keeping her hand there and allowing the heat to seep through its chitin. Gentle heat, barely warmer than her hands, nothing like the ever-building fire of the infection. Despite itself, the vessel’s shoulders dropped a fraction from their tense curl.

Fear struck through it anew. Had he seen? Had he noticed?

Its sister sighed, taking the rag away. She sat there, silent, and it could not see her face, yet it guessed she was disappointed. Why?

“You should try to relax. Sleep, if you can.” She sounded nearly as tired as it had ever heard her. “I may need to step away to speak with Quirrel, but I will go no farther than the next room.”

Sleep. If you can.

That was an order.

Sleeping would mean shutting its eyes on the stranger in the room. Sleeping would mean that he might be there to witness whatever panic seized it when it woke.

She laid the rag over its back again, and it suppressed a shudder. It might not have much choice, if she continued; its eyes already wanted to close, despite all its objections.

It would not know whether it could until it tried.

It did not want to sleep, not with the stranger—Quirrel—watching its every move, waiting for it to expose itself. Hornet was safe, she must be, she was clever, she would not turn her back on anyone she could not trust, but it did not, could not, extend that same faith. Not when every alarm in its head was ringing, and every inch of its body crawled with awareness of his stare.

An order. Not a request. She had ordered it to sleep. If it did not obey, that would be yet another failure, and she would have yet more cause to be disappointed with it. Its heart kicked into double rhythm, lungs aching to gasp, to suck in gulps of air as the edges of the room grew dim.

It would not. It would not be undone by something so simple. It would endure much worse, to make her pleased with it.

Gradually, the breathlessness faded, as it inhaled and exhaled at a measured pace.

Sleep.

Under the cold flood of fear that demanded it stay awake, that whispered to it of what it might miss, an undertow of exhaustion pulled. Exhaustion that only grew stronger as its sister laid the cloth to its back once more, rubbing in firm circles to clean the void from its carapace. The sweet aroma of the soap she was using drifted out into the room, plucking at memories of the Palace, of the heavy, waxy flowers that only bloomed when the kingslight faded and left the gardens dim and dew-drenched.

Its eyelids drifted half-shut before it snapped them open again. Its sister was speaking.

“Where should I begin,” she murmured, and sighed. It felt her hands slide from its shell, though she replaced them immediately after, working at a new spot that sent tingles up its spine and into its mask. It hurt, but in a foregone sort of way, an echo of pain that had once been much greater. As she kept up the steady pressure, even the echo faded, one voice in the clamor going silent.

The relief was unexpected, perhaps irrelevant, with so many other pains still demanding its attention. But its next breath was longer, slower, without its intent, and it could only be further relieved that its sister—and the stranger—did not notice.

“I was in Greenpath,” she was saying, moving the rag aside to scratch lightly at its back-plate with a claw, then rubbing over the spot again with fresh water. “I have not kept careful count, but it must have been near six days ago.”

Six days. It almost shuddered again, caught at the last moment by the sharpness of Quirrel’s attention. His gaze was shifting from it to its sister and back again, and it could see the questions tugging at him, but he said nothing, and only the crackle of the fire and the drum of the rain filled the silence.

Had it only been that long since she found it dying in the Crossroads? Since it flung its nail down into the dark, since it abandoned all pretense of being what it was meant to be?

Six days since it escaped the temple. Six days of reprieve from its punishment.

Six days that it should not have lived to see.

Six days of… of…

Its eyes flared open again.

“There was a sort of… shift in the world.” Hornet ground her fangs, and a tendril of fear tightened round its throat, but her dissatisfaction seemed to be with her loss for words, rather than with it. “I know not else how to describe it. I could feel that something had changed.”

Quirrel tilted his head, pondering, then nodded slowly. His voice was soft. “I felt much the same.”

“I wondered if others would, or only myself.” Her breath brushed its shoulder as she leaned over it, working at a notch in one of its plates. “I made for the temple at once, though it took longer than I wished. The Crossroads have been nigh-impassable since—”

A pause. A silence that it fell through, deeper, deeper.

Her next words dragged it back to the surface. “They were lying in the elevator when I found them.”

At first, it did not understand why the words felt wrong, only that they did, some invisible piece out of place, as if it had grasped for something and missed, or its teeth no longer fit inside its own mouth.

It—

They?

The word had nothing to do with it. The word was something cold that dug beneath its shell, something foreign, something not fit to be there.

“I was not sure at first whether I would have to kill them,” its sister continued, with no hint of doubt or hesitation. “In self-defense, or as a mercy. They were gravely injured, and I didn’t know if they would recognize me.”

The vessel’s head was spinning. Or perhaps the world was whirling rudely around it, thoughtless of the nausea currently creeping up its throat.

It was—

They—

What was she doing?

She had named it, spoken to it kindly, given it comfort and reassurance it did not deserve, and it had accepted what was not meant for it, knowing it would not have this forever, weak enough to steal what relief was given to it in error.

But if she had done it all while assuming that it was a person, something worthy of respect, something with desires, independence, rather than a thing to be handled, a tool to be used, a weapon to strike down the divine—

Oh, she was mistaken, she must be—

The fact that it had desires, that she had guessed correctly, was worse than if she had simply been wrong. If she had been wrong, it would not have cared.

She must know what it was meant to be. She must know how her father had spoken of it, to it. She must know that its flaws were what had destroyed her future, robbed her of her inheritance and doomed her people to madness and decay. She must not continue to treat it like this, as if it was worthy of respect.

It could not tell her otherwise. It could not correct her. It should not. It had no right to.

“Once I had concluded that they would not harm me, I decided to bring them here.” Hornet wrung out the rag again, keeping one hand on its back until she finished, then resumed the careful cleaning of its backplates. “Their condition has been more or less stable since then.”

Quirrel hummed in acknowledgement. For a desperate instant, it thought perhaps he would correct her, speaking up when it could not. Its memory was faulty, frayed and tattered with the years, and it did not recognize him, did not think he had ever encountered it before, but he spoke like one of the bugs of the old kingdom, not a foreigner, not a newcomer. Perhaps he knew how it should be addressed. Perhaps he had heard it spoken of, and could stop her from—from—

“They make quite the impression,” he said, with a rueful half-laugh. “I can see the resemblance.”

Its gut twisted. Whether he did not know how to properly refer to it, or whether he was deferring to its sister’s judgement, mattered little. It inhaled harshly, forgetting its resolve to hide its flaws in front of him, and then froze when he looked down at it, an inquiring tilt to his head.

Hornet’s scrubbing stopped, removing even that small solace, and she leaned forward to look down at it. “Hollow?”

There were not enough blankets left on the bed to cover it entirely, to wrap it up and hide it from the world, but its claws twitched at the traitorous thought. Even if there had been, it would still stick out, its body too large and ungainly to be anything but an awkward lump under the covers, even if it was hidden from view.

It could not achieve what it wanted. To be invisible, to be small enough to escape notice, ignored, unimportant.

If it could not be what it was meant to be, could it not at least be forgotten?

The thought was poisonous, insidious, creeping into its failed mind as if it belonged there, as if it was not just another want that must be sought out and destroyed.

It was failing in so many ways, merely lying there, thinking, disobeying the command to fall asleep, giving in to weakness the moment it was distracted, revealing its flaws before this strange bug who had not even been there an hour—

Hornet’s hand was on its face, a warm weight beneath its eye, her palm slightly damp, smelling of flowers and soapsuds. The flutter of its breath against her wrist called to its attention just how quickly it was breathing, how far it had fallen, and how fast.

It could not stop. It was ruined now, unable even to maintain a façade of what it should be.

Perhaps this new word she used for it was a punishment. Perhaps it was meant to keep it in its place, to remind it that it had failed. To prevent it from retreating into the comforting illusion that it still had worth, that it might still be useful.

“Quirrel,” she said, and there was an oddness in her voice, a sharpness that felt like a shove, “would you go start some tea?”

Quirrel went still. Even the easy flick of his fingers stopped, and he looked intently at her, ignoring the vessel altogether.

It should not feel relieved.

“Tea,” the cricket said.

“Yes.” Hornet did not move, aside from a quick jerk of her head. “In the kitchen.”

The silence stretched just a beat too long, Quirrel still holding himself carefully, as if he might trigger some unseen trap by moving.

“Right,” he said at last, and stood. He reached back with his left hand and, after looking down at the empty space at his hip, hooked his fingers in his belt instead. “I expect that will take a while.”

Its sister did not reply, did not turn to watch him leave. She did nothing at all until he was gone, until faint sounds began to drift through the doorway, of cabinets opening and closing, items shifted about.

Then she sighed, and it felt the tension bleed out of her, felt the slight tremble of her claws against its mask as she stroked her thumb over its jaw.

It nearly shoved its face against her hand again, nearly begged for more of what she was giving it, but its heart was racing already, its breath coming short, and the stranger was still here—not in the room, not in sight, but it could not quash the creeping suspicion that he would know, that he would somehow find it out.

She seemed to understand, regardless.

“It’s all right,” she whispered, the words rasping softly through her fangs. “It’s all right.”

It was not.

It was not all right, she was wrong to handle it like this, so gently, as if it had not already broken. But oh—she was still here, and she had not stopped caring for it, ill-deserved as such treatment was, and something shriveled and starving within it was crying out for more.

She leaned back, and lifted her hand, and it thought for a desolate moment that she meant to leave it there alone, but she only reached to the side and picked up the rag again, running it in careful strokes down the vessel’s neck and between its shoulders, warmth seeping through its shell and into the knotted muscles beneath its armor.

The plates on its back were wide and tough, sloping gradually, meant to deflect blows from its neck and absorb the impact of its strikes. It did not think anyone had ever treated them so gently. Its father’s hands had been careful and deliberate when he inscribed the seals that bound it, but he wasted not a single motion, never touching it beyond what was required, and even then his fingertips would burn with soul, with freezing pain that it had had to block out, to shut away lest he sense that it was suffering.

Always, always, it lied.

Hornet’s hands were warm. Hornet’s hands did not burn, not like its father’s, not like the goddess’s rare, unwelcome touch.

And rather than touching it briskly, efficiently, or pressing to its shell like a branding iron as light surged forward to scorch away its darkness, Hornet’s hands… lingered.

Gentle, but not soft. Her palms and fingerpads were callused, and the shell overtop of her hands was nicked and scratched, much like its own.

Why was its attention fixed so firmly on this? On the warmth of the cloth trailing over its shoulder, on the idle touch of her free hand at the base of its neck? Why would she…

It was an ungainly thing, unfeeling and cold, and… why would she want…

Its eyes were so heavy.

The scant relief its sister offered brought the pain in the rest of its body into sharper focus. Every part of it ached, each limb its own dull throb. A memory dawned, a memory of restraints winding taut around its wrists, its ankles, pressure growing slowly as each one pulled in a separate direction, until the skin between its plates began to split, until the sockets of its joints strained and snapped open, until—

It jerked.

Awake, awake. That was not a dream—it did not dream—but a memory slotted out of place, something its exhausted mind had tripped over.

That was then.

The goddess was gone from it. It did not think anyone here was capable of pulling it apart. It was fairly certain it could not be useful any longer, if its limbs were torn from its real body. And its sister must believe there was something she could use it for.

The fear still took a long time to fade.

It must be truly fractured to remember such things now. To experience the pointless memories of its failure so vividly, even when it was as removed from its purpose as it had ever been.

Whatever its sister required of it, she would be disappointed if she expected its former perfection. Or perfection of any sort.

It could not currently feel much of anything about that. Strange.

It breathed, slowly, its focus drifting back to the present. The warmth. The water. The slow movement of its sister’s hand, up and down its back.

The stranger was still in the kitchen, but he had quieted now, into a general impression of shuffling motion, hushed and indistinct. Perhaps still looking for tea.

It had never seen its sister drink tea. She didn’t consume much of anything besides meat. Maybe the tea was for—

It jerked.

Awake, again.

Frustration wormed into its heart. She had asked it to sleep.

In a way, it did not have much choice. The roiling swirl of emotion beneath its shell did not seem to matter; it was falling asleep regardless, except that nerves, paranoia, something, kept yanking it back into awareness.

Hornet rubbed circles on its back. Water trickled down its shell and slipped into a gap between the plates, tickling its skin. Its breathing was a little slower now, at least, its chest not so tight nor so heavy.

It tried to relax, letting its head slump against the mattress, letting its fingers uncurl…

It was trying to do as she wanted.

It was trying.

It… it was…

○

They were finally asleep, but Hornet didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare stop moving.

She kept rubbing Hollow’s back, caressing in wide, unhurried circles, the rag no longer wet, the plates already clean. This was one of the few places their armor was untouched by the splits and cracks that marred the rest of them, this span of inches below the back of their neck, above the fractured exit wounds between their shoulders.

It was one of the few places she could be relatively sure she was not hurting them.

The spellwork on their back shivered in and out of sight as she brushed across it, calling to mind the seal on the temple door that bound the other vessel away. The seal on Hollow’s mask that tied them to life, to their suffering.

Confident as she had been at first that she could unravel that, she was not so sure now. The magics written across their mask and shell surely tied into each other, winding threads in and out until the multitude of seals and spells were bound tight together. Far more complicated—and far more difficult to undo. She could unwind simple spells, given sufficient time and concentration, but nothing about this was as simple as she had first thought. The temple door was, likewise, beyond her current skills.

Undoing either one—the seal on the temple or the seals on her sibling’s body—would have consequences she could not fully know until they were upon her. And unless she was given reason to contemplate it once more, she would not so much as touch the spellwork here. It might spell an end to their existence, a mercy killing long delayed, and she would not do such a thing, not while she had hope of not needing it.

To think that she had once considered this so carelessly. When she stood there staring down at her sibling as they lay dying at her feet, she had been mere moments from a decision that would kill them.

As she had killed so many others.

No more. She would not be forced or tricked or persuaded into such a thing again. Not while her mind was her own. Not while she drew breath to protest.

She let one finger slip from the rag to trace the silver runes. Fragmented by their wounds, entire glyphs obliterated by the cracks in their chitin, they shone nonetheless, the points and lines like twisting sparks and writhing smoke, a strange, cold fire burning against the darkness.

Did she still envy them for the time spent in the wyrm’s presence, as the sole focus of his attention? Had they been aware enough to want it, yearning perhaps as much as she did for his regard?

Or perhaps they hated him too, for the way he had used them. Perhaps they had rebelled against what he created them to be, an impossible thing, a walking tomb, a living sacrifice with no way to protest their own treatment. Silent, conscious, compliant, trapped, watching their own body transform to suit the needs of another.

Oh, gods… to think that they had been able to feel everything that was done to them, every moment of it, every new crack and blister, every twist of the knife…

It was a wonder and a horror both that they were still alive.

She watched for any hint that they might twitch awake again, any movement of their eyelids or jerk of their head. Waiting it out, watching them fight their own exhaustion, had been heartwrenching, though seeing the tension unwind from their limbs as soon as they finally surrendered was its own kind of torture.

They did not move. Except to breathe, shallow and scraping, still catching occasionally, as if at another terror she was not meant to witness.

Hornet shut her own eyes, and swayed a little, her hand falling briefly still on their back.

No. No, she couldn’t sleep now, she had things to do.

She hadn’t expected their first meeting with Quirrel to go well, exactly, and it surely could have gone much worse. But of course he had to arrive just when they were beginning to relax, just when they had started to show her what they wanted. Seeing how they froze, how they locked every limb tight in an effort not to flinch or quiver, brought to mind how unreadable they had been when she first found them, and cast their behavior toward her now into stark relief.

Despite everything, despite her being the worst person they could have chosen for this, they were beginning to trust her.

Enough to go alarmingly limp under her hands, as if her touch drained something vital out of them. Enough to fall asleep when she asked, even with a stranger in the house.

Her gaze twitched toward the kitchen. The small, intermittent sounds Quirrel was making half reassured her and half set her on edge. It was not as if she could forget that there was someone else here, when his scent lingered in the room even after he had left it. Faint, restrained, in a way, but noticeable. It had something in common with the cool, damp stone of the deepest caves, and with the resinous sap that ran from tackblood vines when she scored them with needle or claw.

It was not until now, when every one of her hunter’s senses were alert to another’s presence in her house, that she realized something she had been missing.

Spiders did not rely upon scent-speak as strongly as some other peoples of Hallownest. As little as she knew about her father’s species, in both godly form and mortal, she could not rule out that he might’ve had heightened capacity for smell, though if he had, it had not passed to her. She had been taught to use scent to hunt, to detect and track another’s and to cover her own, when necessary. But once she left Deepnest, all the other ways her people marked the world—in ritual, in courtship, in battle—had been meaningless.

She had been totally alone in the Palace. She could smell it in the air.

Every morning when she woke, with the first breaths that she took, she missed them. She had not known it then, but she would always be missing them, for the rest of her long, long life.

Perhaps she could be forgiven for not noting this sooner, with everything that had happened. Perhaps she had grown too used to being alone, to waking every morning with no presence in the room but her own.

Hollow had no scent.

None at all.

As far as she could recall, they never had. She had never had much cause to perceive it, for the times she had been near them had been scarce, and any time alone with them even scarcer.

But now that she had noticed, she knew that it was not only them. Every one of her voided siblings was the same. That would explain why she had often been surprised by their sudden appearance, and why the last one left alive—the one now sealed in the temple—had been so difficult to shake as she traveled through the thick tangle of Greenpath.

Was this some property of the void, an incidental effect of their conception, or intentional? Was this just one more way her father had stolen their voice, ensuring that they could not communicate even so much as their presence in a room?

She had gone so long merely accepting that vessels were lesser. How much had this reinforced that assumption, this stark lack of something all other living bugs carried?

The reek of infection on their body could reasonably have covered any natural scent they had when she first saved them. But now even that was nearly gone, and they were blank to her—she might as well have been alone in the room.

Even the string of dead tiktiks, currently draped over the mantlepiece, dripping rainwater, smelled like something that had once been alive.

Hunger and nausea twined together in her stomach, two fibers of the same cord. She hadn’t eaten anything fresh in days, since her last trip into the city, since before Hollow spoke to her.

That day was burned into her mind, she realized. As stark as a scorch mark upon cloth, dividing before and after. The day she had stopped believing her father’s lies. The day she had accepted that her sibling was alive.

It was the prospect of food that finally made her come awake, shaking off the drowsiness that had drifted down over her while she watched her sibling sleep. It likely wouldn’t be polite to devour Quirrel’s entire catch in one sitting, but she could have, in a heartbeat.

Laying the rag across the rim of the basin to dry, she rose slowly, wincing as her knees creaked, displacing the mattress as little as possible as she stepped off of it. Hollow didn’t so much as twitch. Once they managed to fall asleep, they seemed to sleep heavily. Well-deserved, after everything they’d been through.

She wasn’t exactly comfortable with the fact that she’d guessed they might fall asleep if she was touching them, and leveraged that to her advantage. Really, it was to their advantage, too; they needed to rest, and they had been too nervous to do it, and she hadn’t wanted to tell Quirrel the full tale while they were awake and listening. Even the abbreviated version had seemed to upset them, though she had no idea why.

Still, she had tried to set a boundary—only touching them when asked—and then immediately crossed it, as soon as it was convenient.

It was ever more evident that she had no idea what she was doing.

She snagged the blanket with one claw and pulled it up to Hollow’s waist. It was instinct, more than anything else, as she had no reason to do so besides sentiment. As an intentional gesture, perhaps it would reassure them somehow, like her mother had once strung fresh silk over her nest every night, surrounding her daughter in the kind of softness Deepnest so often withheld.

Hollow deserved softness as much as she had. More, given that their life had been even more barren of it than hers.

She shook herself. How long had she been standing here, staring down at them? The tiktiks weren’t getting any fresher, and Quirrel—

Quirrel was still waiting in the kitchen, likely bewildered, in the dark about everything. That observation was rapidly becoming literal; the windows had already dimmed to grey.

Hornet stepped over to the fireplace and retrieved Quirrel’s catch from the mantle, carefully not releasing the venom that surged to the tips of her fangs. Hours-old prey was infinitely more appetizing than what she’d been eating lately, and she almost could have kissed him for bringing it. Only that would be awkward, and most likely frightening.

Much as she wanted to devour them then and there, she would at least wait until she offered him a portion of his own catch. He might not recognize hunter’s etiquette, but her own impoliteness would nettle her.

Upon a little more thought, she also gathered up the papers she’d been using to transcribe the signs—quietly, eyeing her sibling all the while.

Then she took a deep breath, bracing for battle, and went to speak with Quirrel.

○

Taglist: @2amtime @moss-tombstone @slimeel Send an ask or reply to this post to be added to (or removed from) the taglist!

[cherrybombfangirl]

Amy Anderson - OC Intro

Name (full): Amy Anderson

Other names: Number Seven (formerly), Purple Ninja, Master of Space

Fandom/Appears In: Ninjago, appears in all seasons (and she has a movie!verse variant)

Age: 11-12 (Pilots - Season 2), 14-15 (Season 3-4), 16-18 (Season 5-7/Replica), 19 (Season 8-9), 20 (Season 10), 23 (Season 11-13), 24 (Season 14-16)

Birthdate: Nov 10th (no real birthdate, but she and the others have deemed that her birthday cuz it's the day she joined the team)

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio

Personality: buries all of her emotions until she can't feel them, resting bitch face, cold and calculating until she's not, afraid of getting attached and then losing that person, rarely shows vulnerability out of fear (and if she does it's with someone she deeply trusts), holder of the team brain cell but dangerously close to losing it, scary powerful lady but really insecure about it and hurting people she loves

Gender ID: Cis Female? She's not quite sure, She/Her pronouns

Sexuality: Gray AroAce

Hair: Straight chocolate brown hair with two highlights in her bangs (one pink, one blue), usually in a neat ponytail ; Post Replica- Chin length layers with an undercut on one side so it's easier to hide her burn scars with her hair, she also added a purple highlight between her pink and blue ones

Eyes: Chocolate brown

Skin: On the paler side

Identifying Features: Pre Replica- tattoo number on the inside of her left forearm (007), electrical scar on her lower back ; Post Replica- burn scars covering the entire left side of her body, prosthetic left arm

Combat skills: enhanced physiology- speed, agility, healing, strength, intelligence, reflexes ; master- tactician, archer, sharpshooter, spy, of multiple martial arts/fighting styles ; well versed in many weapons

Supernatural abilities: Elemental Powers of Space (force fields and portals) ; Post Replica- None

Disabilities: Post Replica- PTSD ; Post Season 9- Anxiety/Panic Disorder

History/Background:

Amy is a biologically enhanced human clone. She was created in an underground operation called Desolation Labs, under the Bloodlust project. There were originally a hundred clones created, and Amy is one of 13 remaining from the experimentation and the clones being pitted against each other. She was trained from birth to be a master assassin, to be sold off to the highest bidder when the time came. She found Master Wu, escaped the labs, and joined the ninja as the Purple Ninja and Master of Space. She regrets and fears all of the things she did under orders and all the lives she took- and deeply fears hurting her new family.

Relationships: Lloyd Garmadon (love of her life), Dr. Carol Anderson (mother, adopted), Cole Brookstone, Jay Walker, Kai Smith, Zane Julien (brother figures), Nya Smith (sister figure and close friend), Devin Hernandez-Cruz (best friend), Number Six (twin sister, hates her), Other clone sisters (hates them), Alec, Leslie, Josie, and Carol Garmadon (children), Sensei Garmadon (father in-law/mentor), Misako Garmadon (mother in-law)

Aliases: Number Seven (formerly), Purple Ninja, Master of Space

Additional Notes/Facts:

Pilots-Season 7/Replica, she's a couple inches taller than Lloyd. After she comes back and he got a growth spurt, he caught up to her and she's only a couple inches shorter than him

Replica is my fanseason for her, where the evil scientists that created her return and decide to finish what they started- use the clones to wipe out the Elemental Masters and "save humanity" as their leader Dr. Hatch so calls it. lots of angst/whump and really fucking dark :D

really protective of Lloyd. if you hurt him the next chance she gets she will not hesitate to make your life agony until you beg her to kill you, and then she'll do it painfully slow

there is one movie that makes her cry, but she'll never admit it (it's Lilo and Stitch, she relates to Stitch way too much)

Oreos are the first real food she ate after escaping Desolation Labs, so she loves them

slowly starts to get comfortable with being vulnerable and letting herself feel her feelings over the course of her arc

She's one of my oldest OCs, i think i first created her when I was 12. she's been through a TON of changes since then

Closest sibling relationship with Zane because of their similar experiences of not being quite human and "programmed", ESPECIALLY after the whole Never Realm episode of being taken over and hurting people and hurting people they love

Fanfics: Bleeding Out (Ao3 link coming soon), Next Gen Ninjago Fic (coming soon)

[plumoh]

of quiet wishes

Rating: G

Wordcount: 819

Summary: “When he looks at Hope, he sees the earnest boy he’s met not too long ago, but these green eyes are glinting with a maturity he’s not sure many warriors possess.”

Note: AO3 link. Hope & Squall interaction, set during DFFOO Act 2 after Hope got back his memories from XIII-2.

Hope wordlessly sits next to him on the ground, and looks up at the night sky full of stars. Whatever people say about worlds having their own rules and looking different in every aspect, the sky is always the same—the deep blue in this world of respite brings him the same comfort as the one back at home.

“It is much more pleasant to admire the sky in silence, isn’t it?” Hope says.

Squall glances at their group of friends gathered around a fire, loudly telling stories or reenacting some epic battle that happened either in their world or in popular books. Squall’s not sure that blocking a weapon with bare hands can actually happen in real life.

“You got tired of the noise?” Squall asks instead of answering Hope’s question.

Hope turns his head to look at him, and the smile that settles on his face makes him look a lot older than his current body suggests. That will never stop being odd to see.

“I’m happy that everyone is getting along. But I guess I’m not used to so much liveliness around me anymore.”

… What a thing to say, in such a calm tone, when a few days ago Hope was happily mingling with the other kids.

“Some of my friends can’t stop talking, so I’m never passing up the opportunity to get some quiet,” Squall says, shrugging. “I don’t like constant buzzing around me.”

This is a choice Squall made, though; distancing himself from other people and only keeping for company the slashes of his gunblade. It’s simpler that way. Having friends with all sorts of personalities is more exhausting than he imagined.

Hope nods, always keeping that little smile. “Do you mind if I join you during these moments of quiet and peace, sometimes? I love hearing about our allies’ journeys and the adventures they went on, but I think that my mind is still adjusting after getting back my memories.” He looks down, tracing some patterns on the ground with his finger. “I need to put some order in it.”

Hope speaks more clearly, saying each word with intention like he’s carefully chosen them. He seems to be a natural at making those around him see and hear exactly what he wants. He doesn’t speak loudly, but his words have weight. No one doubts him.

Squall only noticed because he’s acting the same. He also prefers thinking his full sentences first before saying them out loud, though the difference is that a few people have no qualms calling him out when he’s taking too long turning a sentence over and over in his head. When he looks at Hope, he sees the earnest boy he’s met not too long ago, but these green eyes are glinting with a maturity he’s not sure many warriors possess.

“It’s okay if you prefer being alone, I just thought that maybe having someone by your side will prevent other people from coming and bothering you.” Hope glances at him, his lips stretching into a grin, more carefree and a little mischievous, like the one Squall often sees on Selphie.

“...I don’t mind. Don’t expect me to hold an exciting conversation, though.”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t be sitting with you if I wanted to talk for hours.”

Squall’s eyebrow twitches, as he’s pretty sure this is a jab at him and his social skills, but Hope’s relaxed posture indicates that he’s only teasing. Well. He’s not the first one to say something along those lines.

“I can’t imagine Vanille or Snow not talking at you,” Squall says.

Very quickly, Hope’s composure breaks before he remembers himself and schools his features back into neutrality. Something unpleasant curls into Squall’s stomach as he realizes he touched on a sensitive subject.

“They would, wouldn’t they?” Hope chuckles. “Vanille has an endless list of conversation topics and Snow simply doesn’t know when to leave someone alone.”

If Snow sticks to someone like glue, and Vanille spreads joy like she breathes, then surely Hope would still be used to never ending chatting around him. Squall doesn’t point out the incoherence in Hope’s words. From the hints he dropped, maybe unconsciously, Hope’s future doesn’t sound full of happiness and little victories, even if Serah and Noel seem perfectly fine with the future they’re living in.

Something is bothering the Hope from the future, but Squall doesn’t know him well enough to prod and get answers out of him.

“They’re still the same, then,” he offers instead.

Hope shifts his gaze back at the sky, and extends a hand towards it. Maybe with the tip of his fingers, he’s touching a star.

“Yes, they haven’t changed, even after all these years. Time is different for everyone.”

“...Some people grow up and others don’t.”

Hope laughs.

No matter how wise this old Hope is, Squall wishes someone would come and erase the loneliness in his voice.

[sparrow-in-boots]

Modern timeline bits we should have gotten in AC3 but we were robbed:

big city chase scene with diving into buildings and vaulting over cars to ditch pursuers. bonus points if it's in São Paulo, the portion of Manhattan we get is too vertical for a nice free running-heavy segment imo.

speaking of, small scene of the São Paulo assassin team welcoming the group and helping set them up with what they need to get around. (it was said they were moving locations but they never said they were moving away from the city, maybe just different hideouts. i sincerely doubt the brotherhood would let themselves be thrown off a major city like that.)

on the topic of Manhattan, we should have gotten a stealth escape sequence on the way out of the building. we went through a whole thing to jump from one building to the next, there's bound to be enough security to make this interesting.

which means, access to more gear!!! smoke bombs, sound poppers, flashbangs, gun silencers, hell even improvised weapons from office supplies. i know the brotherhood is stretched thin but c'mon!

Desmond finding and releasing more animus project test subjects. He's right in the heart of the whole project and he only walks out with his dad? Nuh-uh, if there are anymore subjects (and knowing Abstergo, there is a very high chance there are), then he's also walking out with them.

an actual, sincere, thesis-lead, fight and then confession with Daniel Cross. those two need to fucking talk more than exchanging a few snide remarks at each other, i am BEGGING.

Desmond! Riding! A MOTORCYCLE!!!! Perfect way to go full circle, the thing that got him caught in the beginning is the thing that saves his hide in a pinch.

access to Bill's emails, as well as Becca's and Shaun's. i don't care if it's sus, this is a brotherhood. they are stretched thin and with windling numbers, but all the more reason to keep in touch and find solidarity and companionship on one another. i wanna hear from the other teams, i wanna know what's going on around the world with them, and i want them to reach out to each other.

BONUS POINTS if Desmond opens up about reading the team's emails back in Monteriggioni and addressing the fact that they basically tried to schedule a dinner out without inviting of thinking about him. among other things too, he was so left behind in the socializing!!

on that note, Desmond gets to talk to his mom. i don't care if it's too dangerous, let him talk to his mom!! if you're gonna make your character feel sorry for refusing the call and regret being away, then make that mean something? hell, let him send her an email at least!

Desmond, Shaun and Becca break time. No Bill, just the three of them catching up and, discussing what happened back in ACB. you kill off one of your biggest side characters and we're supposed to just carry on? i'm not having it, this can't go unaddressed for the audience, it's so cheap. (no that bit from the Juno story hours doesn't count)

Shaun and Becca being more than voices on your ear. We should have gotten a bit of them having the spotlight, maybe infiltrating Abstergo's servers to wreck havoc and cover for Desmond's escape. Maybe even giving us environment cues to use on the fight against Daniel as mentioned above. A sliding door to break a chokehold, or overloading a server to make the power go out to give you an advantage, shit like that!

The team slowly but surely tipping the scales against Bill. Yes, we all know we're in a deadline, things are tense, yadda yadda. They are still people, and you make people overwork for too long, and they break in terrible ways. Desmond should be able to bring a measure of defiance to Bill's iron fist, telling him off often so that Shaun and Becca can catch a breather too, and it helps. Which would be a great way to segue into the Bill rescue mission, it's not what he would have wanted them to do but well, his orders are shit anyway, so let's save his ass.

[steamworksfairy]

hi fae! i AM curious about your ideas about verde and especially about how you felt he was forshadowed if you feel like elaborating? 👀

(also yeah, team forever and ever taking their sweet time zesrdfcgf!! 😌🥰)

Hi Hope!

So, I only know of one point of foreshadowing for Verde specifically. I haven't reread the manga in a while (a few weeks to a year to not at all, depending on the arc), and I haven't really rewatched the anime since I first saw it around 2012. (However, I do rewatch the Verde episodes sometimes.) So this won't be as comprehensive as I'd like. (Sorry) Also note that this whole thing will be full of my own interpretations and theories on the manga (and a little of the anime). So some things may be biased,etc. Also, manga spoilers!

Now then, what makes me think he is foreshadowed? Chapter 53 of the manga.

In this chapter, Verde is mentioned by some of his hired assassins to have sent them to target Tsuna. He apparently has been going after bosses and their successors. (I assume this is because he was hired by another person to do this in order to make some side money for his experiments as well as test out those camouflage suits.) The attempt fails, and Tsuna tells the defeated assassins to send Verde his reguards.

Now, what's interesting to note is when any form of plot goes out of its way for an "antagonist" to send a minion after the main character, this serves as a setup for a later encounter.

Another thing to note is that at least two of the three Vongola successors, Timoteo's sons, were also assassinated near the beginning of the manga. (One was shot in a feud, but that could potentially be seen as a cover-up. The other was drowned and another reduced to nothing but bone.) As well as the fact I-pin seems to have been sent to kill what looks like another boss during her introduction chapter, all of this points to the fact that someone was hiring assassins** to take out mafia bosses. Which, I believe this was a plot point hinted at, but it never seemed to have come into fruition. (Unless I'm forgetting something 😅)

**I know Verde isn't an assassin, but he seems to run some type of business or side business where he leases out assassins who work for him and use the gear and weapons he's invented.

It should also be noted that I don't think that Verde had a hand in any of Timoteo's sons deaths. His method seems to be hiring assassins to inject poison into his targets.

So yeah, I kind of think there is some sort of hinted at future plot point that would have involved Verde. I don't know if he would have been a major antagonist or not. However, I can't help but note that up until Verde was mentioned, both Colonnello and Skull made full appearances. I don't think any other Arcobaleno were mentioned before that, and if nothing was being set up, then it would make more sense for him to make an appearance. Yet, he didn’t. Which further makes me think something was being set up, but it was scraped or forgotten.

Another interesting thing to note about chapter 53 is how unphased Reborn is by that, but in anime (I think in the filler), Reborn does explicitly state not to trust Verde. Yet! During the Rainbow arc, they seem more like typical anime rivals---minus all the fighting, of course. What I mean is, when you read their interactions during the climax of that arc, when everyone has gathered together to defeat Bermuda, they seem a little more friendly towards each other than what the anime has lead me to believe. In the anime, I'm sure Reborn states a few times not to trust Verde. Or that he doesn't.

However, in the manga, right before Verde activates his boss watch, they have a moment where Reborn is like, "But, Verde! You don't fight!" And just does the typical anime rivals scoff and is essentially like "I have an ace up sleeve!" It's very subtle, but oh my gosh, it reads so much like this for me! And of course, when Reborn activates his boss watch on that final fight, Verde just stands next to a robot version of Reborn. Like Verde didn’t have to pretend to TALK to Reborn. He didn’t have to keep up the act. But he did so Tsuna wouldn’t catch on to the fact that "Reborn's friend" was just Reborn's uncursed form. Which is sweet, and they are totally frenemies and---

I'm gonna leave it at that. Hopefully, this all makes sense. I might have a habit of over reading all the Verde parts in the manga, lol 🤣

(Usually, yes!!! But the chance to talk about Verde was dangled right in front of face! So I took it 😊💚)