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millenianthemums · 6 months ago

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chapter 3 of my fic is up! i actually posted it a week ago, but was too tired to finish the art until now… i might not actually be able to draw for every single chapter, but i still wanna try. we’ll see.

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Mabel had become best friends with Tate McGucket’s new dog in under a week. She knew she would eventually, but still, that was record time. And with all the old friends she’d been tirelessly catching up with in her first few days back in Gravity Falls, she was both proud and preemptively exhausted to have added a new friend to the list already.

It helped that Scout Cottonball McGucket was the absolute sweetest puppy she’d ever met (a puppy that was taller than her on two legs was a puppy nonetheless). She was one of those huge fluffy white dogs– a Great Pyranese, Dipper had said– and her heart was just as soft and sweet and cuddly as the rest of her. Hence “Cottonball”, the unauthorized middle name Mabel had secretly given her. The plan was to get it to stick so well that by the time Tate found out about it, it would be impossible to get rid of it.

So when she cycled by the lake and saw Tate out in the rain that afternoon, and managed to wrangle out of him that Scout was missing , of course she was going to help look. Total no-brainer. Her search-and-rescue strategy of biking along the treeline at a snail pace while whistling and calling Scout’s name wasn’t exactly sophisticated, but before long she caught a lucky break. She started hearing a weird noise through the rain, a distant but piercing screech. At first she assumed it was a red fox or maybe a mountain lion screaming its head off somewhere in the woods, and tried to steer clear of it. But then a series of powerful barks joined it– Scout’s beautiful voice!-- and Mabel’s self-preservation fled. No way was some wailing overgrown house cat gonna hurt her new friend on her watch!

She swerved toward the noise, yelling for Scout, and soon a shape barrelled toward her out of the darkness. She was only terrified for a split second, but then she saw its wagging tail and leapt off her bike to give the dog a massive hug. Scout jumped and wagged and danced around joyfully as Mabel scrubbed her hands all through her thick coat. “You’re okay!” she cheered as Scout nuzzled her face. “We were all so worried, young lady… aww, I can’t stay mad at you! Maybe just– oof–” she shoved Scout’s massive paws off her shoulders and tried to wipe the muddy pawprints off her sweater before they soaked into the wool. “Maybe just settle down a little– whoa! Hey! Oh, you’re such a silly–”

“YOU.”

She recognized the voice right away. Part of her brain had never stopped hearing it. Her head turned toward it against her will, and standing there in the woods, staring her down, was exactly what she was most afraid to see.

Bill Cipher. The triangle guy who almost killed the entire world last time she’d been here. The monster who tricked her into helping him almost tear her family apart. The thing that had almost scared her into not coming back this year, into abandoning this place and the people she loved so much, out of fear that she’d somehow mess it all up again. The single worst thing that had ever happened to her. He was standing right in front of her. The streaks of mud and bruising, bloody gashes all over his face (body? surface?) made him look like he’d just clawed his way straight out of Hell, and the look in his eye seemed to say that he’d done it just to tear her apart with his bare hands.

She was dreaming. She had to be dreaming. Please, please let her be dreaming. Let her wake up…

Then he started talking, and she realized something was off.

“YYYOUUU DIDTHIISSSS,” was all she could really make out. He was saying lots more stuff, but the words were blurring together, so clumsy and slurred that it didn’t even sound like language. He started trying to walk toward her– walk , like on the ground , which she’d never seen him do in his triangle form. And he was barely managing it. Every raindrop that hit him seemed to be weighing him down as he approached, oozing blood— weird silver blood with an eye-melting rainbow sheen— from countless gashes on his arms and legs, and even between the brick things on his body/face. The finger gun he was holding out seemed like it was supposed to be aiming at her, but his whole arm was shaking more than the leaves in the summer storm. He trailed off speaking— the only other thing she’d caught was “I WON’T”— and his eye locked on her face. His eye was bloodshot, pink, shiny and sticky, like a wad of chewed gum. It looked horribly painful. Everything about him looked painful.

As she stared, his pupil shrank to a tiny point. His eye turned bright red, and the redness spread out into his bricks— scales?— like a fire burning behind drywall. For a second she thought he was about to turn into that giant crimson nightmare pyramid he’d shapeshifted into last year, and she almost turned and ran as he let out a scream and started to run at her…

…and fell on his face.

Mabel and Scout stood there, staring in silence, as Bill Cipher laid face-down and motionless in the mud. The woods were still filled with the low roar of rain, but somehow Mabel felt a heavy silence crushing her lungs.

Once her heart had stopped beating so fast, she risked a step toward him. Scout made a soft rumble of warning, but let her approach. Bill gave absolutely no sign that he knew she was there as she drew closer, until she was standing right beside him, close enough to see the gold scales on his back heaving rhythmically up and down. Slow, labored breathing. Had she ever seen him breathe before? She didn’t think he even did that. At least not normally. But from the looks of it, this was hardly a normal day for him. He really did look awful. One of his arms was a bloody mess, leather skin all ragged and torn. He probably had Scout to thank for that. She gave the dog an affectionate scratch behind her ear.

But the torn-up arm was far from his only injury. And she didn’t know how to tell health from illness in… whatever he was… but she was pretty sure he was usually a much brighter shade of yellow than this. He looked drained of color.

After several seconds of nothing happening, she noticed a big, durable-looking stick lying at the base of a nearby tree. She retrieved it, and after a few deep breaths and a bit of hyping herself up– “if he was gonna jump up and grab you he could have done it by now” -- she held out the stick and gave him a slight but purposeful nudge.

Nothing. He just barely twitched enough to show he was still alive. He was totally out cold.

She was getting concerned. That was a new experience, feeling concern for Bill. He’d done so much terrible stuff, but still… was she watching a man die? Or a triangle, rather? Was she about to see a triangle die?

A voice in the distance cut through the rain. Mabel jumped back and held the stick like a baseball bat on reflex. Then she recognized it, just as Scout’s tail started wagging. It was Tate McGucket’s voice. “Mabel? Scout? Is that you out there?”

“It’s us! Hi!” Mabel chirped, then realized her mistake. Leading Tate toward Bill would almost definitely end with somebody dying. And whoever it ended up being, she just really didn’t want to see that. With a few more quick, anxious nudges, she managed to shove Bill most of the way under a nearby bush just as Tate’s flashlight beam swept through the trees to find them. Scout took off running toward it and Mabel quickly followed, snagging the handlebars of her bike along the way. She arrived in time to see Tate grinning and ruffling Scout’s furry face as she stood with her paws on his chest. He looked up to see Mabel and quickly shoved the dog off him. “I keep tellin’ you not to jump like that, girl!” he said sternly.

“She must’ve run off chasing something,” Mabel offered as casually as possible. “But she ran up as soon as she heard me! She’s a good puppy!”

“Wish she minded me half that well,” he grumbled, patting Scout on the head. “Good on you for findin’ her, Mabel. I really can’t thank you enough–”

“You don’t have to thank me!” Mabel said, shooing the thought away with her hands. “I’m always happy to help out a friend!” Scout gave a quiet, appreciative “boof” as she scratched her ear.

“Let me drive you back home, then,” Tate said. “You shouldn’t be biking in this rain anyway. ‘Specially once it gets dark.”

Mabel shot an involuntary glance at the bushes behind her. If she left now, she might not find this same spot again. And if she lost track of Bill, if she went home not knowing if he was still out there somewhere, or if he might follow her…

“...Well, the others aren’t expecting me back ‘til eight,” she said slowly. That was true; she’d been out cycling well past sunset most nights since she and Dipper arrived. Ever since she’d gotten really into biking in the fall, she’d been eager to try out the trails in Gravity Falls, and now she was getting as much use out of them as she could. The Grunkles were cool with it. They both figured a girl who’d helped fight off a paranormal apocalypse could handle herself in the dark woods for an hour or two. And they were right, she thought proudly. She’d gotten really fast on her bike in the past few months. She could probably outspeed a grizzly bear with ease. Those guys were way too big and bulky to pedal well.

“Plus, I think the rain’s supposed to let up soon,” she continued. “Would it be okay if I just hung around the bait shop for a little bit, and then biked home after?”

“Sure thing,” Tate said, looking grateful for something to offer. “I’ll tell the missus to put some tea on. Scout, heel.” He clicked his fingers, and Scout followed close beside him as he headed back to the house.

Mabel waited until his back was turned. Then she picked up the stick again and drove it hard into the ground, at the base of the bush that hid Bill. Backing up a bit, making sure it would stay upright, she nodded to herself. It would work well enough as a landmark.

“I’ll come back later,” she whispered under her breath as she trailed behind Tate and Scout. “If he’s gone, I’ll run home and tell Dipper and the Grunkles. And if he’s dead, then… problem solved. I think.”

And if this is all a trick? Some cynical part of her brain piped up. If he’s luring you back into some kind of trap, then what? You gonna fall for it like last time?

“No,” she whispered back through gritted teeth. “Not again.”

One hand wandered to the cupholder on her bike that held her grappling hook. Fingers resting on its handle, she followed the others out of the woods.

The sun had fully hidden behind the horizon by the time Mabel left. The rain had lightened to a gentle mist, barely noticeable really, and she hadn’t wanted to stay out too late. So once she’d finished her tea (augmented with all the spare sugar packets Mrs. McGucket had claimed to own), she’d said goodbye to Scout and her humans and set out for home. She sent a quick text to Dipper on the way out, letting him know she’d be a little bit late getting back. Just got sidetracked, sorry, nothing to worry about.

But there was something to worry about. She saw the stick loom out of the darkness as she cycled up. The rain had almost washed it out of the ground, leaving it standing crooked. The sharp, jutting angle reminded her of that picture Dipper showed her once of a nuclear waste dump or something, where they’d put some scary black spikes in a desert to try and scare people away. “This place is best shunned and left uninhabited”.

She shouldn’t be doing this. This was so stupid. It didn’t make any sense to get closer.

But she was already standing over the bush. She wrenched the stick out of the ground and gripped it like a sword. She held it at arm’s length and pushed aside the foliage, reaching back for the grappling hook in her pocket with her other hand.

The dim light glinted off something shiny and yellow. She drew back a step, instinctive, but the shape didn’t jump at her. It didn’t move at all. Bill Cipher was still exactly where she’d left him.

Did he actually die? She felt her chest tighten, which was stupid. It was good if he was dead. He was already supposed to be dead. She should be thrilled to think he might have died under that bush, all his threats left unfulfilled.

Did I just walk away while he was dying?

Her hand was shaking. She tried to draw the stick back, but it bumped against one of his arms as it went.

It twitched. The fist clenched and drew back in toward the body. Mabel almost bit through her tongue from flinching too hard, but there was no further movement.

He was alive. Barely.

Mabel’s chest was so tight, it felt like she couldn’t breathe. This was the worst case scenario. He wasn’t gone somewhere. He didn’t jump up and scare her and at least provide some clue about what was going on. And he wasn’t dead. But he probably would be in a few hours. And there was nobody in the world who would ever possibly help. Nobody who even could, except her.

This was so STUPID. You already helped him once, Mabel. Remember? You helped him almost kill your whole family. You really wanna go another round?

But thinking about just walking away made her feel sick. She’d never just walked away from something that was dying before. How many wasps had she fished out of pools in her life? How many times had her parents scolded her for bringing wounded squirrels and raccoons inside? Those were bad ideas too. “Trash the house and get stung” ideas. But the wasps and squirrels and raccoons all lived. If she hadn’t done that stupid thing, they would have died. Not helping had never even felt like an option.

“He already died once before,” she whispered to the angry voice in her head. “He might come back again, someplace else, and cause a bunch more problems we don’t even know about until it’s too late.” She popped open the little wicker trunk on the back of her bike and pulled out her emergency picnic blanket. “Maybe if I, like, put him somewhere secure. And keep a good close eye on him. And then when he wakes up, I can get some answers here.”

The angry voice wasn’t convinced by her rationalizations. It kept yelling about how stupid she was as she draped the blanket over Bill, then gingerly lifted him, using the blanket like gloves, too scared to touch him directly. He weighed practically nothing; about the same as a large picture frame. The voice kept berating her as she shoved him into the bike’s front basket– no way was she putting him in the trunk and pedaling all the way home with her back to him. The front basket was just big enough that, with the blanket over him, he looked like a misshapen, mostly unsuspicious lump. She biked along the side of the road, eyes flickering back and forth between the basket and the pavement ahead, for the whole ride home. The voice was still at it by the time she leaned her bike against the wall of the Mystery Shack, but the louder and meaner it got, the less inclined she felt to listen to its advice. She knew this was a dumb idea. But she’d come this far, and there were no other good options.

They’d discovered, like, six new secret rooms since Grunkle Ford first made it back home. Some of them even he had forgotten about. There was one in the basement that she and Dipper had taken to calling “Gay Baby Jail”, because they’d started a habit of banishing defeated board game opponents down there. Also because it was small, cramped, almost empty, and only had one tiny, high window into the backyard, which for some reason had bars on it.

For all these reasons, it was the perfect habitat for Bill. There was a bathroom in the back, and they’d spruced the room up with a beanbag chair and one of those empty wooden chests from the gift shop, just to tie the room together. He’d be fine in there. Probably.

It was easy to sneak in the back door and down to the basement. Dipper, Stan and Ford were all chatting in the kitchen, working on dinner. It smelled like something was on fire, but she still really wished she was in there with them. This was to keep them safe, she reminded herself as she eased open the door to Gay Baby Jail.

She turned the blanket bundle upside down and dumped Bill out onto the beanbag chair. He was still out cold, lying there in a pile of noodly limbs, but at least he was still breathing. She dropped the blanket on top of him and backed away.

Looking him over, she frowned. A small bite wound on his arm was still oozing silver blood. It would ruin the beanbag chair pretty soon. She sighed and started digging through her pockets.

Gingerly, with as few fingers as possible, she pressed a sky blue band-aid over the wound. “You didn’t earn that,” she whispered. “That’s for practical reasons only.”

With one last look around the room, she jabbed a finger at him. “I’ll be back,” she said, practicing her Interrogation Voice. “And when you wake up, I want answers, Geometry Boy.”

Bill stayed asleep. Mabel shut the door, locked it, tested the lock. It held strong.

She took a deep breath and straightened up, switching from Serious Mode back to Mabel Mode. Then she snuck back outside, knocked on the front door, and joined her family for dinner.

#gravity falls #mabel pines #bill cipher #mabel’s guide to the power of friendship #bill & mabel friendship au #milleniart #robin writes stuff

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daddiesdrarryy · 5 months ago

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*Hogwarts First Year*

Draco: I’ve got kind eyes

Pansy: You don’t have kind eyes. You have snail eyes. Everybody knows that

Draco: I’ve got kind eyes. Harry told me so

Blaise: Who’s Harry?

Draco: Harry Potter, he’s my new friend in Gryffindors. I complimented him first, told him he had a very nice neck, which he does. But what I should have said was “You got a really cool chin” or “You got some amazing earlobes”

Draco: Honestly, everything about him is great. And when I’m with him, I never really notice time. It’s probably because he is the best part of my day. I should...I should have told him one of those things, as opposed to the neck thing, you know. Then he told me I had kind eyes

Pansy: Merlin. You like Harry!

Blaise: Yes

Draco: What? He’s my friend!

Pansy: Draco, come on, it’s obvious. You like Harry

Draco: Oh, bloody hell! I—I like him. I like Harry! Oh, my goodness! Why did I never think of that before? Wow, my mouth is dry. Anybody else’s mouth dry?

Draco: What should I do? I don’t know what to do!

Pansy: Draco, you need to make a decision

Draco: I got to ask him out!

Blaise: Good! Go!

Pansy: Go ahead! Go! Good luck!

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sunnami · 8 months ago

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deleted draft/scene - watch me, don’t touch me, love me, don’t hurt me.

legitimately cannot write anything at the moment, so please have this for a bit T-T

“LILY, DARLING! That dress looks utterly divine! Is that Charmeuse silk? The purple simply brings out the color in your eyes! And your skin, my love! Just glowing! Tell me—have you been trying those snail facials? I hear they’re all the rage nowadays.”

Amidst the Yule Ball festivities, a crowd gathers in the corner of the icy ballroom; far beyond the ages of awkward teenage hand-holding, and an acquired taste for Firewhiskey rather than fruit punch. In the middle of it all—is you. Obnoxiously catching everyone’s attention, whether they like it or not. But even the Dementors in Azkaban would find themselves drawn to your shrilling voice and careless display of wealth; like a bee to a field of flowers. Your gown is dripping in black, hand-woven gothic lace, and drapes of ruffled, yellow satin skirts. It is a testament to your House—the cete of badgers. A pear cut, Canary Diamond necklace sits atop your neck. The capelet around your shoulders is of black velvet and gold trimmings.

(Always the belle of the ball, but Sirius Black wonders if there’s anything in your head at all.)

(“Bloody hell.” Marlene grabs the flask of whiskey from Sirius’s hands and pours the burning liquid down her throat. “I’m going to need more of this if I plan on surviving the night. Surely there are more important matters to discuss than French designers and our frilly dresses. It’s like I’m back in sixth-year all over again.”

Sirius shakes the now-empty container in amusement. “And you thought stealing my stash was the best idea? Do you know how hard it was to sneak this in with Minnie glaring down my shoulders? I swear that woman treats me like I’m still fourteen.”)

“We work in the same castle, Lily flower, but it’s a pity we don’t run into each other much,” You say liltingly, lipstick staining the rim of your champagne glass. “Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were deliberately avoiding me!”

Lily flashes you a constrained smile. “On the contrary, I’ve been rather busy these days helping Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary. My responsibility, after all, is first and foremost—the children.” She raises a brow at you contemptuously. “Not all of us have the luxury of skipping work for tea and gossip.”

You hum, lips quirked in amusement. “Oh? That’s a shame. Narcissa and I would love for you to join us one day.”

“Perhaps when I’ve no longer important things to do,” says Lily in a saccharine-sweet tone.

You grow bored of toying with Lily—to her relief—and decide to throw a bone at Rita Skeeter. The bloodthirsty journalist preys hungrily at your every word—and you’re more than willing to satiate the irritable, little pest. You have nobles from pure-blooded families kissing at your feet for a moment of your time; entertaining a crowd like this takes no effort. (Except for the Marauders, you find. They’re the section that plays out of tune in the orchestra you’re conducting.)

“You wouldn’t believe it, Rita darling, of all the people I come upon in Rome—it’s Vittoria Zabini!” You throw your head back in laughter as Rita’s eyes grow wide as a bug’s. “On a honeymoon, no less!” You wink at Rita. “This makes her fourth one now, I believe.”

As predicted, Rita greedily whips out her Quick-Quotes Quill. “Riveting.” She pushes her glasses upwards with a quirk of her lips. “We may have tomorrow’s front page at our hands.”

Lily hides a scoff by taking a sip of her sparkling beverage. “Surely we have more important news for the wizarding world than an innocent woman’s marriage.”

You gasp melodramatically. “But this is Vittoria Zabini! Haven’t you ever wondered why her husbands mysteriously disappear after months of marriage?”

“Not even once!” Lily slams her glass down onto the round, draped table; nostrils flaring and chest heaving. “Sorry.” She dabs a napkin at her lips with a heavy exhale. “Please excuse me. I’ve just lost my appetite.”

“Poor dear,” You mutter as the red-headed beauty makes for the group of Gryffindors a few feet away. She instantly collapses into James’s arms, no doubt complaining about your charming personality. There’s an odd ache in your heart as you watch the McKinnon girl pat her back comfortingly; Remus Lupin taking Lily’s hands and easing her anger. You’ve never felt a camaraderie such as theirs. Always the Gryffindors, and their flagrant displays of loyalty and whatnot.

How repulsive.

this was one of the first ever drafts for the fic! and no, the yule ball scene won’t be like this, it’ll be quite better, i hope. ;0

#sunny's hp fics #sunny's wips

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zosan-secondchances · 3 months ago

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The Pirate King of the North: Part 12

Main Themes: V̸͉́i̸̘͛l̶̘̀l̴̞͘a̷͙͆ǐ̶̧ṅ̷̰ ̸̉͜Ṡ̶̬a̷̞̎n̴͖̚j̵͝ͅḯ̶͖, Alternate Universe, Zosan Ship

Warning: Long post ahead and some One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 (Special) | 19

While Zoro, Sanji and Law were in the middle of their little game, Niji had other things to attend to.

The sun is nearly set and the blue-haired commander was crouched down, safely hidden in the dark refuge of the treeline overlooking a tavern in Mock Town. It had been raining around Jaya as the Heart Pirate mink had predicted.

For hours now, he'd been listening to the conversation between the establishment's patrons and one of Doflamingo’s lackeys, Bellamy the Hyena. The obnoxious man drunkenly bragged about the different missions he'd been personally assigned to by the Warlord himself. As one of Germa’s skilled agents, Niji knew that most of the his stories had been embellished to impress the crowd.

He's glad that he had managed to slip in a transponder snail in Bellamy's possession earlier that day. It wasn't easy, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity before him.

While one hand holds onto his own snail, he reaches up to check the state of his helmet with the other, worried about its condition as he feels a large part of the front barely hanging on. He knew that one significant damage to it may split his entire headwear, and he doesn't have enough resources to patch it up if that occurs. If he's not careful, he might put himself out of commission for months until Sanji is able to make him a new one.

He considers bailing multiple times in favour of actually doing exactly what his brother had instructed him to do for his own safety. He meant to drop off the condensed Seastones at one of their labs, go home to recover and get help from Reiju or Ichiji to repair his helmet, then off to Dressrosa to go undercover.

Ultimately, he decides to delay the new mission in favour of staying a bit longer, not wanting to miss the slim chance that he could learn more about the current whereabouts of Doflamingo and his plans from one of his loyal lackeys who reside in an island that's way out of reach given its immense distance from home.

There was a sudden snap of a twig nearby. Without hesitation, he draws out his sword and swings behind him. He stops his attack just inches away from an open palm hand that was ready to catch his blade. He hisses at the sight and begins to speak in a hushed manner.

Niji

Fuckin’ hell, Yonji.

The green-haired man, fully equipped in his Raid Suit, straightens up and cracks his neck side to side.

Yonji

Yo.

Niji

Don't do that. I don't have Sanji's observation haki. That freak can tell how many steps I take on my way to the bathroom from my own bloody room.

Niji sheaths his sword then places the transponder snail gently on a rock protruding out of the grass in front of them so they can both hear the ongoing conversation through it. He takes notice of Yonji kneeling down next to him, also attentively listening in. The other man mirrors his whispering.

Yonji

Maybe you're just getting sloppy. What with how much you wear that…thing.

Yonji nods towards his cracked helmet. Niji gives him a side glance in return, unaffected by the statement. Wearing it for prolonged periods has been an argument that they repeatedly have now and then. The last time this was in discussion, they simply agreed to disagree.

Niji

So? Where's yours?

Yonji

I didn't bring it.

The blue-haired man sighs disappointingly.

Niji

I know it's useless to tell you, but you really oughta have it on hand more often. Even if it's just for emergencies.

Yonji grunts in response. He tips his head towards the den-den mushi.

Yonji

So what are you doing here?

Niji

I'm here to see to a rumour. Well…several rumours.

Yonji

Rumours?

Niji nods. He allows himself to relax a little now that he has his brother for support. He sits back on his ass and leans his head back to look up at the trees, watching the droplets of water drip down from their leaves.

Niji

Word is, Doflamingo had managed to find Sanji's…owner. The one he was sold to when he was younger.

Yonji raises a brow at him, intrigued at the news.

Niji

And…apparently, he'd given up a lot just to buy him. It cost a fortune.

The green-haired man crosses his arms, processing the information.

Yonji

Is it to get the Celestial Dragons off his back…or to control him? The last I heard, Mihawk backed out of the hunt suddenly.

Niji

Mihawk was assigned? I thought the old fossil was retiring?

To answer your question, I'm not sure yet…. I'm inclined to believe that it could be both, knowing the devil.

He shifts in his seat and pulls up his hood to protect himself from the now pouring rain. Glancing to the side, he notices Yonji just accepted getting soaked, his hair slightly disheveled.

Niji

The other rumour is that this guy, Bellamy, is keeping the Proof of Ownership papers safe for Doflamingo. It's…not much of a rumour given how big his mouth is.

Sure enough, the transponder snail bellows out the man's loud laughter after bragging about his newest promotion, and how he's well on his way to become the Warlord's right hand man if he plays his cards right.

Niji

It makes sense that he'd assign him here to hide the papers. This place is on the opposite side of the world from Dressrosa, and the guy is grossly loyal.

But I'll believe it when I see it. With you here, we might actually be able to find and destroy them right here and now. Then we can finally cut ties without all the running around to see if Corazon is still alive or not.

Yonji

Hmm….

Niji

See? You can come up with a perfectly logical plan, even with emotions!

Yonji

Tch.

Niji

Speaking of plans…what are you doing here? Are Reiju and Ichiji around too?

I told you guys that I can respond to Sanji's distress signal by myself since I'm the fastest. I didn't call for backup.

Yonji

I came to check in because Reiju had exclusively ordered you to extract Sanji from the Demon Warlord. And you've gone radio silent for weeks.

What's your status?

Niji shrugs his shoulders.

Niji

I needed to disappear to safely escort Sanji and the Heart Pirates to Skypiea.

He didn't need rescuing. He's… ugh… “involved” with the Demon Warlord now. They're travelling together.

Yonji takes a sharp breath in and glares at him.

Yonji

He died in his presence, Niji. How do you suppose that happened? Roronoa Zoro has been trying to kill him for a very long time.

Niji

Look, I know it's a shock. But you're just going to have to trust me on this one. Things have changed. Reiju and Ichiji would get it. I'm sure of it.

I…have a feeling that we'll see more of that swordsman. Ugh….

The blue-haired commander runs his fingers over the cracks of his helmet.

Niji

I'll never forgive him for this though. But at least I know that he can hold himself in a fight. I can vouch that he is what they say he is.

Yonji

He did that? We already knew that he's a monster.

Niji

Err…yeah. But I started the fight.

Yonji stands calmly, his eyes hidden from his darkened expression. His movements were almost robotic and stiff.

Yonji

You failed to extract Your Majesty from the Demon Warlord, as you were ordered to.

Your own, clearly, terrible decision-making ability includes starting a fight with the very enemy our king cannot defeat himself. You've put yourself in danger, and potentially our home.

Niji looks up at him with his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Yonji

The worst part is, you allowed their relationship to develop when you could have done something about it. It almost sounds like you approve of it.

Niji

I watched them very carefully for weeks, Yonji. It's not exactly a decision that's up to me either. Sanji seemed genuinely happy and…

His mind floods with the small shy moments that he has had with their head chef, Cosette: The way she'd put extra syrup aside for his waffles just the way he likes it; how she'd give him the warmest smile as they pass each other by the halls; how she'd stay up late just to personally deliver him a glass of water during his training sessions, how their fingers would gently touch when she passes it to him, and how his heart would jump at every contact that they allowed each other.

Niji

It's not… easy for us. We're not exactly the perfect family, or humans for that matter. We're barely one. You know?

Yonji

No, I don't know, Niji.

He takes a looming step forwards, as he raises his clenched fists up to his sides.

In retaliation, Niji swiftly jumps back to a stance, unsheathing his sword with one hand while the other clawed outwards as sparks of electricity emanate from it.

Niji

Yonji…you never told me how you knew where to find me.

There was a moment of silence. Only then did the blue-haired man realise that there were no more sounds coming from the transponder snail.

He hears rustling of leaves all around and notices a contingent of pirates surrounding them. Bellamy himself is stalking directly behind him with a malicious grin on his face.

When he returns his gaze to his brother, the last thing he sees is a fist before darkness overtakes him.

—

Zoro emerges from the tent in the wee hours of the morning, only wearing his haramaki and trousers as he ended up using his robe to clean himself from Sanji's nosebleed last night. The air was chilly, and the surroundings were covered in a layer of fog from the abundance of the clouds present in Skypiea. The swordsman squints his eye and looks around, trying to make sense of the state of their campsite. He finds Law bent over what used to be their campfire, trying to relight it to make himself a morning coffee.

Zoro

Hey, have you seen Curly?

Law grumbles quietly to himself, cursing at the damp kindling that he tosses away to swap for a new one.

Law

How should I know? I thought he was with you?

I barely slept a wink last night. I thought you two promised to tone it down while we're travelling together?

Zoro

He went out but didn't come back last night.

Law snaps his head over his shoulder to look at him. After a brief pause, he stands, dropping the flint he'd been using.

Law

That's not good.

In a rush, the swordsman passes him to get to their packs and begins dressing himself with a fresh shirt to protect himself from the chill.

Zoro

I'm going to look for him. I'll be back.

He secures his swords around his waist and is about to depart when Law holds his hand out in front of him.

Law

No, the fog is too thick. You need to stay here.

Zoro

All the more reason for us to spread out to find him.

Law

Not when you're doing it with someone who has a sense of direction of a rock.

Zoro suddenly enrages and grabs to pull him by the scruff of his neck. His other fist clenched in the air just inches away from the doctor's face.

Zoro

I don't have time for this shit, Traffy. Don't try to stop me.

With widened eyes, Law grips Zoro's wrist and tries to wriggle away from his hold with no luck. He studies the man's clearly panicked state then raises both his hands in defeat.

Law

I apologise. That was uncalled for.

Do you know where he'd gone and why he left? You don't think he was…

Zoro pushes him away and runs a hand over his own face. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he shut his eye tight, feeling remorseful and distressed.

Zoro

I said something that may have freaked him out. I just…. Maybe we were taking things too fast? This is all new to me. I've never….

How do you know when to say the right things? I just thought we…. Maybe I'm reading things wrong….

When he finishes talking–or rather, stammering out words–he crosses his arms together, looking small.

Law's expression softens as he feels sympathy for him.

Law

Room.

A blue sphere expands from his hand outwards then he brings out his sword to raise it slightly out of its sheath.

The swordsman looks around him to watch.

Law

Scan.

A vertical beam travels outwards from his blade then around the orb surrounding the area. When it finishes its revolution with no results, Law sighs disappointingly and returns his sword in its scabbard. He walks towards their packs and begins to rummage through his belongings.

Law

He's not nearby, so I need you to stay and see if there's any clues as to his whereabouts.

Zoro

But–

The doctor throws a transponder snail to him as he pockets one for himself, interrupting the other man's protests. Zoro catches the small creature in time.

Law

Someone needs to stay here in case he comes back. The fog’s a bit thick so I'll need to scan further away to see if I can find him. With luck, I don't have to use it too much. It's a little exhausting.

Call me if you find anything useful or if there's trouble.

The swordsman opens the palm of his hand to stare at the snail in his possession, then he gives the other man a glare, unhappy with his decision.

Law

Mr. Prince-ya wouldn't just leave us without good reason. He did just say that he's sticking around last night.

He starts walking past him then pauses.

Law

Though you should know…

Zoro furrows his brows worriedly, listening intently.

Law

We're not out of the woods yet after what happened in Sabaody Archipelago. I'm sure that you've read the papers and, least to say, it's not good. Expect some repercussions. We did everything we could to travel here unnoticed but…

Zoro

You don't think that's why I want to go out there? I should be the one looking for him.

Law turns to him with an annoyed expression on his face, his patience wearing thin.

Law

Not in this weather, Zoro-ya. Yesterday, you said that you'd follow my plans by the book–this is one of them. I entertained our little game but now, I need you to listen to me and stay. That's my final word.

He watches the swordsman visibly tremble in anger.

Zoro

I don't have to listen to you. You're not my captain.

What if… what if he….

Zoro's other hand clenches into a tight fist. The swordsman is still too anxious and stressed to be fully satisfied with the plan of action.

Law

If I'm not back in an hour, come find me, or do whatever the hell you want.

He approaches the other man to place a hand on his shoulder then gives it a reassuring shake.

Law

We don't know what happened yet. Maybe he just needed space last night and now he's off getting us some breakfast.

Zoro finally looks at him eye to eye. He breathes in deeply to compose himself.

Zoro

Alright. I just…I already waited all night and…nothing. I'm done sitting around.

The doctor gives him a final nod before walking away.

Law

One hour.

—

Law worked his way west and scanned again but yielded no results. So then he proceeds around to try his luck, southward from their campsite where they had travelled. He climbs a tree then scans the surroundings for his third attempt.

Finally, he sees a satisfying blink from his sights. He clambers down and proceeds to the location.

Approaching slowly, by a small stream, he finds Sanji in an oversized shirt, hunched over the edge, painstakingly washing a long piece of fabric that looks like his cloak.

The doctor was certain that his own footsteps made noises by the rustling of leaves and the snapping of twigs as he walked directly behind him but he didn't see any sort of reaction from the man. That's when he sees blood trailing downstream from the cloth.

Law

I've been looking everywhere for you.

The blonde didn't hear him. He continues to clean without so much as noticing what's happening close to him.

Law's eyebrows furrow, finding it unusual that the man with arguably the best observation haki between the three of them wasn't aware of his presence, let alone see his Room sphere when he scanned the area earlier.

Law

Mr. Prince-ya?

Nothing.

Carefully, he reaches out and touches the man's shoulder.

Sanji flinches and gasps as he turns his head over his shoulders to look at the doctor frightfully. His wide eyes bore deep shadows underneath it and he looks visibly shaken from the contact. He was pale and looked thinner than usual with his sunken cheeks, on which one side had a fresh purple bruise and his lip had been cut open on one corner.

Law’s eyes widen but he stops himself from looking too shocked at his state. He withdraws the hand that he held him with, and raises it as a sign that he meant no harm.

Law

Are you okay? The swordsman said that you've been missing since last night.

Sanji eases a little but he still looks very tense. He returns his attention to washing the stain off his cloak. Upon closer inspection, the doctor catches sight of his trembling body, evident by the mad involuntary shaking of his hands.

Sanji

I'm here, aren't I?

He spat out the words with a forced voice that sounds venomous but Law detects a layer of facade with the man. He lets him carry on, but he can't help but notice that the bloodstain that he's meticulously working on had already been rubbed onto the fabric permanently, and it looks like he's just cleaning it more so to keep his hands occupied and while his mind is probably someplace else. It would explain the vulnerable state he'd unintentionally put himself in.

Law

I find it hard to believe that this is where you've been all night. Where were you? Did something happen?

Sanji

I just needed some space. I'll be up there in a second, alright? So just leave me be.

Sanji hunches his shoulders and shifts a little, causing his hair to fall forward around his shoulders. It reveals his uncovered neck.

Softly and gently, Law speaks to him in a low voice.

Law

You know…if you like, I can remove it.

Sanji

Can you leave me alone? Please…? I can do laundry just fine like I have been for everyone on your ship. So go away.

The blonde's voice broke as he spoke and his body trembled more. His face is hidden under the fringe of his hair but the doctor could tell he's on the verge of crying.

Law gives him a moment. When he notices that the quiet is progressively causing the blonde to shake further, he continues.

Law

I meant your slave mark.

Sanji stills. His hands slowly clench into fists.

Law

When I operated on you, I wanted to remove it like I did with Jean Bart's but I didn't want to do it without your consent.

I can't remove it with my powers because it's burnt on your skin but I can surgically repair it with clean skin tissues. I just need a small sample from you. It will look like nothing happened.

Sanji

But something did happen.

A lot of shit. Happened.

He accentuated parts of his statement by growling the words and frustratingly punching into the shallow water with splashes. Law has a feeling that he wasn't just referring to the events surrounding his mark. After a few seconds of quiet, the blonde sniffs as his head dips down. The doctor could hear him sobbing softly.

Unintentionally, Law strokes the furline of his own coat, remembering that silly bet that the other man took and honoured with the Heart Pirates crew.

Law

Or…you know, I can just…clean your laundry for a change. It won't take long at all.

You've been doing that for us for a while, even way past you were expected to.

Law had said that in a light tone as an attempt to brighten up the mood. Clearly the blonde didn't want to talk about what's bothering him but he needed–wanted–to try and make him feel better. Only then did he notice how Luffy and Sanji's positivity and kindness had rubbed off on him over time.

There is a brief pause then suddenly Sanji drops his cloak, turns to stand and wraps his arms around to pull him into a tight hug, pinning his arms to the sides. The blonde begins sobbing quietly but his shoulders shakes violently.

Law

Uhh….

Law has no idea what to do. He stands there uncomfortably for a while as he lets the man cry it out. He tries to remember what Luffy, Bepo or anyone on his crew would do in this situation. In the end, he resorts to giving him awkward pats on the back as far up as he could reach.

Law

Th–there, there…?

He spoke with great uncertainty and felt his face flush red from embarrassment. It really isn't like him to even say that or return someone's hug, and yet here he is. He begins to question how and why he got into this mess.

Eventually, Sanji releases him and takes a step back, looking down sorrowfully with his eyes full of tears and nose runny with snot. Law wasn't sure how much help he did after seeing the state of him, but he believed that the fact that the blonde is out of whatever trance he was in is progress.

Law

Listen, when you told me everything about your family weeks ago, your brother said that you were offering your trust for mine. So that's what I'm doing, okay?

Sanji

Oh, Traffy….

Sanji cleans his face by wiping it with the inside collar of his shirt. When he sets his arms down, he looks less sad but more anxious.

Law

So whatever happened last night, I trust that you did the right thing. I'm not going to question you about it or ask for details unless it's something you want to talk to me about, but that's up to you.

And… there's nothing… weird about… hugs.

Law shivers at mentioning the word, earning a weak smile from the blonde but it didn't last long as it fades as quickly as it came. Then finally, Sanji replies softly.

Sanji

Right….

Law

Right.

We should probably head back before Zoro-ya wanders off on his own. I promised I'd be back with you before the hour's out.

But… think about my offer? We can do it any time back on my ship.

…No pressure.

The blonde didn't reply. Instead, he averts his gaze and wraps his arms around himself after hearing his other half's name.

Law walks past him to pick up the discarded cloak by the stream. With flicks of his hand, he casts his Room ability and extracts the water and blood from the fabric. He then offers it back to Sanji who takes it gratefully.

—

Zoro was about to head out ten minutes earlier than the agreed time period when Law returned with Sanji in tow. The man looked worse than when he carried him back from Sabaody, but he was thankful that his life wasn't in immediate danger and, to his knowledge, there was less blood involved.

When the swordsman approached to fuss and ask details about the blonde's facial injuries and events of the previous night, the doctor stopped him and told him to give the man some space. Sanji simply walked by them and proceeded to properly dress himself and pack up for the day.

Breakfast was put together before setting out, which the blonde took initiative to prepare and serve for the other two with their own choice of morning brew. He didn't have any for himself. Instead, while the others ate their fill, he took a moment to burn the cursed oversized shirt that he had returned to camp with.

—

The fog had settled, which the three were grateful for, but the trek was a lot quieter compared to the exciting one yesterday.

Their path has fewer trees now, but in place is a steep uphill trail with an open meadow littered with flowers and ancient ruins covered with overgrown moss sticking out of the ground. Thanks to the clearer weather, the vast spread of the White Sea is visible, stretching far into the distance if one is to turn their backs to the small dirt path they had been following. The intensity of the wind was more punishing the higher they travelled, but the sight was to behold.

Sanji kept his distance, choosing to be the last one behind as he followed the two like a mindless husk, too dazed to pay attention to the lovely scene before him. Zoro thought that he'd absolutely be beside himself at the sight in his normal state. He was tempted to take pictures for the man on his behalf like he was doing throughout yesterday but decided against it as the blonde probably didn’t want any proof of a time when he’s feeling down. A part of him was really hoping that the view would bring him some semblance of joy.

It didn't. Instead, Sanji kept his head down and trudged on quietly. Law had to verbally call him out to make sure that he was heading the right direction several times, and to make sure that he hurdles the smallest of obstacles like walking over wobbly rocks because his head is too far gone to focus properly. Without Law's warnings, he'd be tripping on his feet, which had already occurred too many times for Zoro's liking.

Neither three had rested much from the previous night, that much the swordsman knows, but he suspects that the blonde had suffered more damage than just lack of sleep.

After a long while, Zoro couldn't handle the silence anymore. He slows down to distance himself from the doctor who was leading the way so he can have a quiet one-on-one with the blonde who was tailing behind them.

Mindful of the fragile state of the man, he speaks softly.

Zoro

Hey….

Sanji looks up briefly behind his deep eyebags but pays him no mind. He continues his way forwards, focusing his eyes on the path before him. The swordsman walks at his pace side by side, careful not to get too close.

Zoro

Curls, what's really going on?

He receives no reply.

Zoro

I’m worried about you. You were clearly hurt.

Nothing.

Zoro

Whatever it is, let me help.

His persistence was rewarded with a small reaction. The blonde's body tenses and he hugs his cloak closer to him, trying to cover his body.

Zoro

Whatever it is, you know we can take it together. You know I'm here for you.

Sanji halts in his steps. He hunches his shoulders again to look smaller, which seems to be his newest habit today.

Zoro

Please…talk to me.

The blonde dips his head down further and his lips start to tremble. He looks like he's on the verge of crying once more.

Law notices the absence of his companions directly around him. He turns around and finds the two having a conversation downhill from where he was standing. His eye twitches at the swordsman who clearly didn’t heed his advice so he tries to keep things moving along for the sake of Sanji’s sanity.

Law

Oi! We need to keep moving! I want to get back on track before midday.

Zoro

Hold on a sec!

He returns his attention to the shivering man in front of him.

Zoro has tried many times to communicate with his own words in the past. Some are more successful than others. This time, he thought he would try to look for some wisdom someplace else. He remembers Nami's words that stuck to him, so he adds his own spin to it.

Zoro

Curls, I just want you to be alright. I’m here for you. You… you have to let me in.

Tentatively, he reaches out, his fingers stretching with intention to caress the man's distraught face.

Zoro

Otherwise…I don't know how I can help.

He gently strokes his cheek with the back of his finger.

Sanji suddenly recoils. His eyes snap wide open angrily from the contact and he takes a wide swipe with his clawed gauntlet towards him. For a split second, Zoro sees that his arms shone black from armament haki.

Sanji

DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!

The swordsman crouches down to the side just in time to dodge his attack. His ear was just shy from being completely cut clean off his face but a few strands of his trimmed hair flew into the wind and he received a deep gash across his right cheek.

Law

Holy shit–!

The wind dies around them as Zoro fumbles to the ground. Then suddenly, the earth shook, followed by deafening cracks and a powerful blast of wind as the entire span of the meadow behind the swordsman was sliced into five long streaks outwards, shaped like a swipe of a claw which carved deep through the earth. Trees, shrubs and colourful flowers all across the cliffside are uprooted and carried away from the force, destroying them and sending them flying off towards the White Sea. The ground sizzled and glowed from extreme heat at the sharpest point of the impact.

There was nothing left of what used to be the peaceful meadow but misshapen earth and smoke emanating from the trenches. Any grass that was left is practically crisped from the blast.

Zoro and Law stared at the man, both shocked and speechless at the now panting Pirate King. His furious panicked eyes turn into a watery one as tears begin to form at the corner of his fierce blue eyes. He screams in a high pitch shrill of a voice.

Sanji

WHY CAN'T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE, ZORO?!

Stunned from his reaction, the swordsman blanks out. He opens his mouth to say something–anything–but can't seem to form any words. He closes it and gulps, feeling uncertain of what's to come next.

Law watches the scene in front of him quietly, careful not to drop his guard in case the blonde loses control again.

Sanji takes a moment to realise what he'd done. When he does, his face suddenly eases into an impassive one and he retracts the blades from his gauntlets with a flick of his wrists. With a clear and firm voice, he speaks.

Sanji

We're done, Zoro.

Zoro's eye widens and his body stiffens.

Sanji

I'm staying to help Traffy like I promised.

But after this, it'll be the last time you see me.

The last line had a hint of sorrow to it as his voice gradually broke. He walks away and passes the swordsman to make his way to Law.

Before he could get too far out of reach, Zoro stands and grabs his hand.

Zoro

No.

Sanji swiftly spins, his other hand raised for another strike but the swordsman quickly gets a hold of his wrist with his opposite hand before the blonde’s haki forms.

Sanji

What the fuck do you think you're doing?!

He tries to pull himself away but Zoro tightens his hold. The swordsman knew he was taking a risk and was being selfish–but he needed the man to know what he had to say.

Zoro

I love you.

Sanji stills his movements. It was his turn to stare at him dumbfoundedly. His eyes are blown wide and pupils dilated.

Zoro

If I hadn't been clear about it before, here it is now.

I'm madly in love with you.

And there’s not a force in the world that can change that.

The blonde’s eyes fill with tears once more as his lips tremble. He parts his lips as if to say something but is met with Zoro’s own clashing onto his. The sudden contact made him gasp and he was too stunned to move. His body reacted involuntarily as the sensation flowed from his lips right through to the tips of his limbs like it needed it, wanted it, and thirsted for it. After a brief pause, he melts into the kiss and closes his eyes. Tears flowed down his cheek freely.

Zoro releases his arms as he snakes his own around Sanji’s figure to pull him close. The blonde’s hands held onto his shoulders for balance. The swordsman's kisses were purposely shallow, not wanting to push any further than he already has. He peppers his lips with tender kisses, trying to show him love by way of action, careful to avoid the deep cut on one side of his lip. He notices that the blonde isn’t returning his affection–only taking it–but he continues on. This was about giving, and he wants him to know he’s willing to give all he’s got.

When Zoro pulls away, the blonde has a flushed face. He opens his eyes slowly as their gaze locks together. His cheeks were red and wet from his own tears. The swordsman feels relief as it was the first healthy colour on his skin that he’d seen on the man since they reunited that morning.

Slowly and tenderly, Sanji slides his hands from his shoulders to cup his face and pulls him close. Zoro hugs him around the small of his waist as he closes his eye.

The next thing he knows, the blonde yanks him back by the face then jerks their heads together to deliver a punishing headbutt against his forehead.

Zoro

ACK–!

The swordsman reels, but before he could catch his balance, Sanji grips his shirt by the shoulders to deliver a swift kick between his legs.

Law winces at the sight and hisses behind his teeth. A hand shoots up to cover his mouth.

Zoro grimaces and falls on his knees before dropping to the ground as he holds onto his groin. He rolls to the side, writhing in pain from both his head and lower regions.

Zoro

What the hell, Dartbrows?!

Sanji lights a cigarette then steps over him smoothly to walk away.

Sanji

I told you not to fuckin’ touch me.

The doctor approaches Zoro calmly. He watches the swordsman rock himself side to side, hissing, as if that will soothe the pain. When the man eventually stills, he offers a hand to him.

Law

Not going to lie…you kinda deserved that. A little.

Zoro furrows at him with furious eyes but takes his hand anyway. He gets pulled up onto his feet. His legs almost give out but he manages to stay up, albeit wobbling in place.

Zoro

Thanks, asshole. How is that supposed to make me feel better?

Law

It’s not. I meant to add insult to injury. Literally.

Zoro

Some doctor you are….

The swordsman growls at him. He attempts to straighten up but he can still feel the remnants of the impact pulsating through his body.

Law turns his attention to the blonde who is now standing way ahead of them, waiting for them to catch up.

Law

Good job, Zoro-ya.

Zoro

Wh-what?

Law

At least he’s… feeling things now.

Zoro follows Law’s eyes and sees Sanji standing uphill. The man is looking around, finally taking in the scenery as he smokes his cigarette. His blonde hair flow gracefully in the wind.

Zoro

Yeah… I guess.

The swordsman felt relief but his heart sank at remembering the blonde’s words. He wonders to himself if this truly is the end of the line. His gaze lowers sadly to the ground. He feels Law pat him on the shoulder a couple of times before walking past him to continue leading the way forwards.

Sanji paid close attention to the environment in front of him. His body was angled so half of his vision sees the untouched, peaceful meadow while the other half was the part he destroyed. He takes a long drag of his smoke and closes his eyes. He let the memories of the previous night flood into his mind one last time before he knew he’d have to stow it away to make way for the worst ahead of them.

—

Doflamingo drags Sanji’s naked form by the hair into the brig of the Numancia Flamingo which is docked discreetly in the outskirts of Skypiea, somewhere in the White Sea. His hands have been covered and bound tight with indestructible strings to restrain him. He’s fully aware that the Warlord knew his weaknesses and he liked to take advantage of it. His neck strained from the jerking movements, and his scalp felt like it would tear away from his own head from the Warlord's pull.

Sanji

D–Doffy–it hurts!

Doflamingo

Do you know how much trouble I had to go through to get Celestial Dragons off you and your precious swordsman's backs after the stunt you pulled at Sabaody?

He throws the blonde aggressively into a dark cell where Sanji lands hard against the wall before falling onto the cold hardwood floor. He tries to recover quickly by propping himself up, crawling backwards and away from the man.

Sanji

Doffy, please, let’s just ta–

The Warlord closes in on him and delivers a swift kick to the face to silence him, earning him a cut over his lips. He then forces the blonde's legs open wide by pinning him down using the same foot. He flicks his fingers in the air to bind the blonde's thighs against his calves. With a swirl of his own hand, strings hoist him off the ground, suspending his body from the ceiling in the middle of the room.

Sanji trembles at the painful binds and shivers at the chilly sensation between his legs. He coughs out blood from the back of his throat, nearly choking from it. He pants deep heavy breaths.

Sanji

Don't… do this…

Doflamingo

Do you know how much I had to give up to buy you? I couldn't even get full ownership.

Sanji

Wh–what? What do you mean buy…?

Doffy, what did you–AH!

Sanji grimaces at the sudden intrusion of Doflamingo’s long thick finger inside of him. His back arches involuntarily to try and get away from it. The other man wasn’t gentle, nor considerate. He pumped his digit in and out, loosening him in a rush with interest just for himself.

Doflamingo

Hmm…I see you’ve been busy already. Do I have Roronoa Zoro to thank for preparing you for me?

The blonde tenses. He gives him a nasty glare and spits at his face. Doflamingo stills.

Sanji

Go to hell, you prick.

Sanji knows that he was well and truly in trouble when he sees it–the Warlord’s grin and laughter which sends shivers up his spine and makes his hair stand on end. When he looks down, he sees the other man's bulging erection in his pants.

Doflamingo

I love it when you talk like that to me.

He starts fucking him with his fingers fast, adding in a second then third digit, one after another with very little patience.

Sanji hisses at the sting. It felt like his ring was on fire. He feels himself open up but it's happening too fast, too dry.

Sanji

What–what do you want from me?

Doflamingo hums, considering the question.

Doflamingo

A discussion for later. There's something that I need you to do.

For now…

Finally, he pulls out. Sanji’s legs twitch involuntarily but the lack of intrusion brings him a small amount of relief. He tries to stabilise himself by taking in long steady breaths but his heart was thumping like mad.

Sanji

Doffy… please don’t.

The Warlord unzips his trousers and whips out his overly large cock. With the blonde suspended from the ceiling, his dick is already perfectly aligned with his rim. He gives it a couple of pumps then slaps Sanji's entrance with it, teasing him.

The blonde snarls and attempts to break free from his binds by thrashing around, tossing and tilting his body however he can.

Doflamingo

You know that fighting me only gets me going.

Sanji

I will always fight if it’s against my will.

And the moment I break free, I will finally fuckin’ end you.

Doflamingo

Mmm… that’s it… talk just like that, my pet.

Doflamingo grips Sanji’s jaws with his large hand and forces him to look at him face to face, keeping his body still.

Doflamingo

But now, don’t move around too much like a good boy, and this’ll be better for the both of us.

Sanji feels him attempt to insert his dick so he jerks his own head back and bites his hand, breaking his skin.

Doflamingo

AH–! MOTHER FU–

The blonde gets dropped roughly on the floor. He winces at the soreness of his joints but he powers through the pain and crawls away with his elbows, dragging himself across the floor. Just before he could make his way on the other side of the bars, the Warlord’s foot stomps mere inches away from his face, cracking the floor underneath him. He stops in fear that his skull would be next.

Doflamingo

Clearly, you’ve been left running around at your own accord for far too long.

He releases the binds around his legs then reaches out to grab him by the crown of his hair, hoisting him off the ground. The blonde cries out in pain.

Doflamingo

So help me, I'll have my money's worth. You've cost me greatly.

Sanji

I didn’t ask to be sold and bought!

Doflamingo drops him to fall on his knees, then swings his hand across to slap him hard, almost knocking him out. When Sanji’s body flimsily collapses to the side, the Warlord catches him by the back of his neck with a bruising grip. This time, he turns him away from him. He flicks his wrist to raise and hold the blonde’s arms up by strings so his frail body hangs lifelessly in front of him. With his long pointed tongue, he gives him a wet lick from the nape of his neck, then up to his face where he bites his earlobe before whispering.

Doflamingo

I own you now, Pirate King. Your mind, your body and your soul.

Sanji can barely keep his eyes open at that point. Blood trickled down the side of his mouth from the inside. He coughs out blood again. Weakly, he replies as best as he can with a raspy voice.

Sanji

No.

Doflamingo pauses, raising a brow.

Sanji

I am…my own man.

I will always… fight for freedom–for myself and everyone who needs it. I only allied with you…to get Seastones and the names of people who deserve no mercy.

And…you. You are one of them.

When I get out of here, I will end you and your fuckin’ kingdom.

Doflamingo grins widely as he yanks his hair back. Sanji yelps at the sudden pain and motion. The Warlord buries his nose in his blonde locks then trails it down his neck, taking a long whiff of his scent.

Doflamingo

Mmm…you forget who's on the leash here, pet. Tell me, is this how you really want to play this?

Sanji

I will never stop fighting, Doflamingo. You can do all what you want with my body, but you can’t break me to thinking I’m yours to claim.

The Warlord pauses, then he chuckles that sinister, malicious laugh of his.

Doflamingo

I knew you’d say that.

He tosses something heavy on the floor. It clunks against the prison cell and slides, stopping directly in Sanji’s view. The blonde had to squint his eyes to try and work out the shape in the dark. When his sight adjusts, his eyes fill with horror and his jaw slacks open as he recognises a large chunk of Niji’s helmet before him.

Doflamingo licks his pointed tongue into his ear which sends chills throughout his body. He watches the blonde gape at the item, satisfied with his reaction.

Doflamingo

Let’s try this again…shall we?

The Warlord waves his hand and Sanji is fully released from all his binds. He drops to the floor on his fours. The blonde looks up to the piece of helmet once more, his mind running through different terrible scenarios of what may have happened.

Doflamingo

I will keep it nice and clear for you.

You do what I say, and I don’t kill your brother.

Sanji

N–no…no, you wouldn’t.

Doflamingo

Do you really want to test me?

Sanji freezes at that. After a moment of silence, his head dips down in defeat as his gaze turns to the side.

Doflamingo kneels directly behind him. He snakes his hands over the blonde's back then up to his neck to wrap his hands around it. While choking him, he pulls him up onto his own thigh to align dick against the rim of his ass.

Doflamingo

Now, let’s see how much you’ve learnt.

When I say, suck my dick, you say…?

The blonde’s lips quiver and his body trembles madly as fear slowly overtakes him. He shuts his eyes tight, knowing full well that the next words he will say is going to change his entire life forever. With a broken voice, he replies.

Sanji

Yes, Doffy.

Doflamingo inserts his cock into his tight entrance. Sanji grips onto the steel prison bars in front of him. He grits his teeth, trying to endure the pain as quietly as he can, not wanting to give the man any more satisfaction than he already has.

Doflamingo

When I say, jerk yourself off in front of the Levely, you say…?

The Warlord continues pushing himself inside, slowly but forcefully. With barely any preparation, Doflamingo’s monstrous size stretches his walls and tears his rim. He feels blood trickle down his violently shaking legs. Sanji’s eyes start welling up in tears from the pain. With a half sobbing voice, he replies.

Sanji

Y–yes…Doffy.

Doflamingo

Good boy.

Then he slams into him almost at full length. The blonde screams and leans his forehead against the prison bars.

Doflamingo

Now…I want you to think of your swordsman.

Sanji

Wh–what…?

Doflamingo thrusts inside him hard and deep once more, trying to forcefully fit his whole cock inside him, causing the blonde to cry out loud.

Doflamingo

You heard me.

I want you to think of his dick deep inside you.

Sanji

Doffy, please! I don’t want to think of him this way–

Doflamingo starts a brutal rhythm of slow but deep thrusts. Sanji screams at every push. He tried to hold back his voice at one point but was punished with a stinging spank, causing him to yelp out. The impact bruises his skin.

Doflamingo

Tell me what the swordsman does to you that you like the most.

Sanji’s tears start flowing. He sniffs once to try and compose himself, reminding himself that this is for his brother.

Doflamingo

Talk, Sanji.

Sanji

I like it when…AH–when he plays with my nipples….

Satisfied with his answer, Doflamingo increases his pace. The Warlord's large hands snake from his neck down to his front and plays with his pecs, teasing and pulling his nipples.

Sanji

Do–Doffy…you're too big. It hurts–it really hurts!!!

Doflamingo

Keep talking. You’ve only said one thing so far. How do you like taking him?

Sanji's breath hitches as he thinks of how the swordsman had fucked him during the last several weeks they had been together.

Sanji

I like it–ah–when I’m on a table and–he goes down on me–before we–AH–DOFFY, NO, PLEASE!!!

The Warlord leans forwards and drops Sanji down on the floor while keeping his legs wrapped around his own hips. He splays a hand over his back, pinning the blonde’s upper body onto the cold surface. The changed angle deepens the penetration in which Sanji begins sobbing out loud. A pool of blood forms onto the hardwood below them. Doflamingo’s pace becomes fast and relentless.

Doflamingo

Give me more, my pet. Tell me more.

His own voice hitches as he nears his climax. His breath quickens as he fucks into the blonde senselessly.

Sanji feels himself peak as well. With every ounce and fibre of his being, he tries to resist.

Sanji

I–I…like it when I get to look into his eyes when he cums. When I call his name, I really want him to call mine too–

Doflamingo

Fuck, yes. When I cum in you, I want you to scream his name.

Sanji

P–Please–please, no–

Doflamingo tips forward slightly and releases his back to grip a bruising hold onto his hips, pushing hard into him with every thrust. His full length pounds painfully deep. When Sanji looks up, he realises that had been forced down on this position so he can see the part of Niji’s helmet that the Warlord had somehow taken into possession.

Doflamingo groans as he peaks.

Doflamingo

Shit… I'm gonna…

It all felt wrong but the blonde steels his heart.

Sanji

Hah–Z–Zoro… Zoro…

Zoro

Sanji, I'm gonna cum…ah–Sanji…

The swordsman’s raspy gentle voice echoes in the room. It grounds Sanji–comforts him–reassures him. He eases into the new sensation, craving his affection.

Sanji

Make a mess of me, baby…please. Say my name, say it.

Zoro

F-Fuck–Sanji… Sanji…

Sanji

Zoro…!

Doflamingo cries out the blonde's name as he pumps into him, spilling a generous load deep inside. The blonde follows shortly, producing barely anything prior to his earlier activities with–

Sanji's lips quiver in terror as he realises that his own mind had betrayed him. It had swapped the devil himself with an illusion of his precious Marimo. He can still feel the Warlord pumping into him.

Doflamingo pulls out with a slow guttural growl, causing the blonde to moan at the sudden loss of his length inside him. He feels the mix of the man's overflowing juices and his own blood spill down his thighs as the Warlord releases him from his hold.

Doflamingo

Now…wasn't that fun?

Sanji scampers on the floor away from him. He sits up, leaning against the prison bars for support.

Sanji

You fucking asshole.

Doflamingo

My dear…

Doflamingo stands tall and drops his large feather coat on the ground. He strips off his shirt then drops his pants on the floor.

Doflamingo

We're just getting started.

—

Voice

Mr. Prince-ya.

Hey…let's keep moving.

Sanji forces his eyes to open slowly as he feels the chilly wind on his face. He almost reels as he returns his attention back to reality. When he looks to his side, he sees Law next to him. Down the hill, the swordsman had kept his distance, his gaze focused at the misshapen land of what used to be the meadow.

Sanji

Law…

Law

Yes…?

Sanji

Are you sure you want to keep going?

Law narrows his eyes suspiciously at that.

Law

Is there something you want to tell me?

Sanji takes a long drag of his smoke, thinking of the right response. When he breathes out, he walks past him.

Sanji

No. I’m just checking.

Law

I see.

The swordsman eventually joins Law and they watch the blonde walk ahead of them. The doctor whispers quietly.

Law

He’d been broken.

Zoro

…I know.

Law

Get ready for anything.

Zoro clenches his fists. He holds onto Wado to stabilise himself but he allows anger to flow through his veins.

Zoro

I am.

77 notes · View notes

diminuel · 4 months ago

Note

...what if the proposal/marriage scene be like that one iconic scene in pirates in the Caribbean where the mcs are fighting in a literally war while also in the middle of a massive whirlpool?

Nothing scream a chaotic monkey fam proposal/marriage more than yelling your vows whilst slaying down marines in a whirlpool

I can see that happening too, especially if they are on the decisive battle field at the end, a battle so long in the making, that Dragon dedicated his life to.

And they end up in the same part of the battle even though they must have engaged different enemies considering what fractions they belong to.

And Dragon is not letting this chance pass up, bloodied and bruised, staring death in the face, he asks what he should have asked 20 years ago. Hell, he had wanted to ask when his heart skipped a beat for the first time when looking at Crocodile. They hadn't needed it back then. But now was the time for declarations.

Ideally, someone brought a transponder snail to the battle and it's being televised to the world that the supreme commander of the Revolutionary Army and one of the commanders of Emperor Buggy are getting hitched in the middle of the battle deciding the fate of the world. X'D

#Anon #Diminuel replies #Dragodile

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years ago

Text

SNAIL & THRUSH (II)

|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER III ||

PAIRING: Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x F!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 8.4k

WARNINGS: Angst, self destructive tendencies, insinuations of PTSD, talks of death, thoughts of violence, banter but it’s more just straight up attacks

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

“Can you—” An aggressive sigh sounds out over the air as your fast-walking form continues on; the earth molding to your shoes. “The area isn’t locked down this far out, Ma’am. Can you just get in the bloody car, please?”

Your eyes stare straight ahead, half-lidded, and could probably melt a sheet of metal if they had to.

Not answering, you continue to walk back into town, ignoring Gaz entirely as he attempts to coax you into the large car he’s driving. The window is down, his accented voice hitting your ears and bouncing off the invisible barrier you had put there to block out his prattle about a mile back.

You utterly refuse to enter the vehicle, even if you were already as tired as a marathon runner. The person driving followed you at a snail’s pace at his wit's end.

Stepping on gravel that crunches under your weight, your fists swing clenched beside you in small clipped arches. If volatile had a picture attached to the definition page, it would be you.

Not only had you figured out Samson Row was dead before you could kill him yourself, but now you had to deal with weapon and drug lords who had it out for you and your mother.

Under your breath, quick worded mumbles are missed over the car’s engine, the slow forward motion of tires that stir the dust and leaves you blinking quickly.

You’d both been at this ever since you’d forced your way out of the garage back on Base and had restrained yourself from making a scene because they had refused to give you your laptop back.

“Protection detail,” your lips curl, thinking over Laswell’s clipped sentences. “Like I want your help after all of this. Just open your home, why don’t you?” Sarcastic flails of your hands leave Gaz groaning and rolling his eyes at the childish scene, a hand going to rub over his neck soothingly. The attempt to bring clarity back to himself only barely works. “Just accept that we can’t keep our own operatives on a leash—but here! Just take the one that forced you into the back of a van and put a revolver to your forehead—God!”

“Are you done out there yet?” Kyle calls, single grip over his hat as he glares out the windshield, no longer wanting to look at you as your teeth bare else he’d get to the end of his rope before he even started climbing. “Bit of a walk back to town, y’know. Not exactly how I’d want to spend my morning, copy?” He mutters the last sentence under his breath.

Don’t want to spend any bloody mornings like this.

“If you tell me one more time to get into the car,” you level as you crush a weed in your way, “I’m sprinting off into the field and making you run after me.”

A long scoff and an exasperated shake of his head later, Gaz is growling an acknowledgment; tapping his fingers over the wheel. Did you not understand the severity of the situation? Hell, it was like you didn’t even care! This was his job, and he took it very seriously. There was no room for fuck-ups.

The car continues to waste gas and slug along, even if the Brit wanted to hop out and drag you into it like the stubborn brat you were acting like.

“How many years overseas?” He asks himself as your form stomps farther away before he presses his foot to the gas lightly and hears the gears squeak. He pulls up beside you moments later, lips tight. “Fuckin’ hell mate. Have a go at this.”

“I can hear you, idiot.” Your voice sounds off, face turning slightly his way. The mid-morning sun was warm, but the breeze from the not-so-far-off Lake Michigan was a welcome feeling as it went over heated skin. “Talk quieter so I don't have to.”

Kyle didn’t understand how you could wear that thick jacket, though. It was slightly chilly, sure, but not that bad out. But he certainly wasn’t going to ask. Not when you were acting like you were going to shank him in the kneecap for breathing in your direction.

“Brilliant.” He spreads his digits from where they curl over the steering wheel, shrugging his shoulders to himself mockingly. “Anything else I should know, Ma’am?”

Drive into a tree, you want to snap, but refrain. Even if seeing the Brit’s eyes go small and jaw go tight was a smirk-inducing sight, what you wanted was silence. A silence that you would probably never get now that your house was being invaded without your say.

At least it’s only him, trying to find light in the situation was your father’s specialty–not yours. Your body forces out a tight breath to calm down. Could you imagine what would have happened if Laswell had forced the one with the dead eyes to watch me? Ghost?

Your body shivers tightly. If Price was at the top of your list of people you feared, Ghost was second. You couldn’t stand to feel those blue orbs lock on you in the rear-view mirror when they’d brought you in. You already had enough ghosts living at the mansion, you didn't need another.

A few seconds later, the car beside you comes to a fast halt with a ruckus of crunching gravel. You hope for a moment the car will turn around and disappear into the background.

“...Y’know what, yeah? I’m solid walking.” The clashing of keys being ripped from an ignition makes you blink in horror, head whipping to the side to watch as the car door is shoved open.

Sergeant Kyle’s tall form greets you as your legs stall, shock coating your lungs.

“The hel–” you stop your sharp tongue. Gritted words fall instead. “And what are you doing?”

Gaz’s body goes to the back of the car, popping open the trunk and throwing out bag after bag as your jaw drops. He grasps one of the largest—a duffel bag—and slings it over his back. Two more are taken in one hand as his muscles writhe, though it looked like the apparent weight doesn't bother him much.

The Brit ignores you, striding past as his long fingers go to his right ear.

“Actual this is Bravo 2-6, I’ll be needing a pickup for a vehicle about a mile down-road. Parked near the edge. You copy?” A pause as you watch him continue on, looking back and forth from the still metal to his clenched fist over the straps of his belongings. A small sound escapes your throat. “No,” Gaz huffs a stiff laugh in response to the conversation you can’t hear. Your ear tips burn. “No, there’s not a damn thing wrong with the bastard, believe it or not.”

“Hey!” Calling loudly, you stare at the figure as it gradually gets farther away, feet spread apart and the air smelling of corroding anger saturated in lake water.

“Affirm, Actual. Will do.” Kyle smoothly utters, taking his hand off his earpiece and fixing the black cord that descends from it so it won’t get in the way of his shirt collar.

Not thinking much of your absent footsteps, the Brit’s head tilts. His ball cap blocks out the sun from his eyes yet they still squint at your practically vibrating silhouette.

“You coming then, Love? Long walk.” Your hands snap to your pockets, the one finding the small coin immediately and bringing it into a tight grip. Suddenly, Gaz’s dark Adam’s Apple was the most offensive sight you’ve ever laid eyes on. “Best get to it, then.”

You can no more say you were fighting off a string of curses more than you were struggling against the rampage of your heart. Kyle just turns back around with a small smirk growing at the apparent slackness of your jaw; brown eyes crinkling. His internal scoreboard marks a point under his name.

Staying stationary for a good minute, stance tight and mind running, Laswell's words come back to encompass your consciousness in between the seething hatred you hold as the two of you become more separated. The price on your head—the threats to your mother’s safety as well as yours.

Your thighs tighten.

For better or for worse, you had to stick close to Kyle for the simple fact that he knew more about this than you did. Trained to be a killer and not hesitant to pull the trigger of a gun for the sake of his precious orders. Even now your eyes snap to the open expanse of the military base’s outer fields; the long grass and the dark ruts in the dirt. Blinking, your tense feet slam the ground as you start forward begrudgingly.

Fine. I’m an adult. I can handle it. But…maybe getting in the car would have been better than walking beside him. Your jaw clenches, not willing to admit that small fact to the man ahead of you.

“Do you get tired of being a piece of work?” You call loudly, catching up quickly at your pace as though the man was hanging back purposely, also knowledgeable of the situation.

He couldn’t just abandon his charge.

Kyle glances at your side profile, quirking a dark brow and sloping his chin. Being this close to him made your nose scrunch at the smell of his cologne, the scent not unpleasant but ultimately still attached to him.

“Actually, Ma’am, I take it as a compliment. Means I’m doing my job.” A pause as he fixes the hold on his gear, grunting. Not able to help himself now that the opportunity presents itself. “Do you?”

Keeping a wide berth between you too, your face tilts to the sky, finding the whizzing forms of water birds and growling like a dog choking on a bullet. The hatred in the air was palpable; none too eager for the job ahead.

My protection detail, you send long glances at Kyle thinking over the title again, studying his strong back and the sharp stab of his nose as it twitches to the scent of native switchgrass seeds. Keeping your studious attention far away from his brown orbs, you peel at the sides of your nails inside your pockets. The person I need protection from is already right beside me. How ironic can my life get?

But you can’t really be surprised, after all, you had expected to see him and the others again someday. Just…not like this. In the ground would have been preferable.

As you both walk in a strangling silence, your thoughts go back to your mother; wondering if she would be okay. The woman was far more stubborn than even you—there were few things that pulled her away from her work in helping others.

Taking one hand to itch at the skin under your left eye, you stifle a yawn.

At most, you’d text each other perhaps once a month. Quick updates and brief conversations about the weather like strangers. You couldn't talk about your nightmares or your father even though she’d been informed about the accusations on her deceased husband.

You didn’t know if the CIA agents had told her the specifics about how he died when they delivered a detailed condolence letter and forced signatures of silence. It would destroy her if they did.

Maybe I’ll call her when I get my phone from my nightstand back home.

You narrow your vision. An urge to hear your mom’s soothing voice hit you like an anvil. She couldn’t make this better, but she’d certainly be able to help.

Gaz’s eyes rove and observe the land, his combat boots leaving prints behind him. But his inspections always lead him back to you. His charge. The phantom from his past that had never really been forgotten just pushed to the side in between missions. The girl who seemed to not give a damn that he was the only person able to keep her alive at this point.

The line on Kyle’s forehead deepens.

Part of him was completely fine with keeping his voice in his throat; listening to the chatter of birds and the clink of his bags’ zippers as he carried the great weight of them with no complaint. Another piece, the loose, reliable, part of him that followed procedure was hesitant to try and articulate how dire this was out loud to you because that wasn’t how this usually went.

The target on your back was no joke, even Laswell knew it. But the soldier carries the burden of detail.

Would she take me seriously if I don’t try to tell her, is the question. The Sergeant makes a noise in the back of his throat.

First impressions are a lock and seal as he was sure you were well aware.

His lips part, half a word formed before the skin gradually falls shut again. Kyle takes a glance at you once more, looking at your wound-tight form and the utter mental exhaustion on your face. Despite his reservations about you, a sliver of regret finds his heart.

You hadn’t asked for any of this, and while you weren’t giving him much slack, his dry sarcastic nature hadn’t helped either. The two of you were just good at making the other go insane, no matter how much time you did or didn’t spend together.

Kyle would never admit it, but it slightly impressed him.

“Should be back in town near o-twelve-hundred.” He clears his throat, trying to lose the bleeding of his stoic words. Make them lighter; airier. Attempt to be cordial. “If we keep this pace, of course. Then I can set up and be out of your hair for a bit.”

Your feet had come to a slow drag-legged stop. Gaz blinks, noticing from the corner of his vision, and does the same—his tightness immediately going to confusion. He looks around the area, though spots nothing out of the ordinary.

Hell, what did I say now?

But he sees your distant gaze with a stilling of his facial features, gaze falling to what you were staring quite hard at.

You blink down at the corpse near the side of the road.

Its small body was covered in dirtied feathers; colors of orange, gray, black, and white speaking through despite the obvious decay. A beak so long it took up larger space than the skull.

Belted Kingfisher.

When an animal dies the eyes are always the first to go—maggots and flies, whatnot. Soft and squishy. You don’t know why, but looking down at that small, dead, bird you longed to know what its eyes had looked like. The color, the intelligent sheen of them. Now only a black eye socket gives its voided opinions like a mute judge.

You’d spotted it quite by accident, just looking over the landscape as the Brit tried to speak to you. A breeze ruffles the feathers that are left over the frail being and you find for the first time in a long while your head is completely silent.

Your muscles loosen.

“...Ma’am?”

Violently flinching, the brief contact to your shoulder is snapped back in an instant, Kyle going to splay the offending hand in a sign of no harm. Dark eyebrows tight. Taking down a full breath, you miss the concern in the Sergeant’s expression, the steady look. There’s a moment when the world holds its air; the animals nearby fall wholly still as the wind carries every unsaid word better than you can annunciate it.

Your stomach rolls at the reminder of his touch, even through layers of clothes. Gaz murmurs a question of which you ignore.

Shoving past him, on your way past his tilted face you growl upwards, “Keep your hands off of me, Garrick.”

You increase your walking speed, trying with all of your might to fight the impending explosion of anger and anxiety. It was like your hands wanted to grip him by his neck, shove him down to the floor and let him know what it felt like to hurt the way you do. For a moment glimpse the life draining from his amber optics.

But any sort of physical pain, or even death, could never amount to knowing what you’d gone through. Not to mention you’d probably get your ass handed to you in mere seconds.

Staring after with wide, creased, eyes, the Brit waits for a moment before he looks down at the small bird carcass you were entranced by moments prior.

His head tilts, lungs filling.

“...Poor bugger.” He frowns and observes the way you quickly walk on with emotion on his lips. Gaz sighs and shakes his head, raising a brow back down at the now-soulless body as the telltale signs of a migraine start to pulse. “Recon I’ll be ending up like you in a bit, Mate.”

He catches up easily, even with the weight of his bags and you have to wonder how anyone thought that this was a good idea.

The devil beside you walks so far removed from normal life that it astounds you, and the rest of the trip is stuck in an uncomfortable silence reserved for those who dislike one another.

Town can’t come soon enough, and you’re stopping at Hector’s Café along the way to your Estate.

“It’s best to go straight back,” you thin your lips and slip into the building, the door creaking behind you as Gaz waits at the entrance. “I need to secure the property ASAP.”

“You’ll get to wreck my home all you want in an hour.” Your backpack was on the main counter, and you walked to it slowly; drawing out the Sergeant's annoyance as much as you could. If you can’t hurt him physically at the moment, mentally was just as good a substitute. “I need my backpack.”

“Oh, you mean the one that left a dent in my skull.”

“Yes. I think I’ll end up keeping it as a family heirloom. Frame it maybe.”

“Ah, Lovely. Glad I can be a part of such a defining moment.” Strap in hand and a sarcastic retort on your breath, a great ruckus sound off from the backroom.

Before you can react your jacket sleeve is being pulled sideways, a form shoving itself in between you and the kitchen door. Your eyes widen, feet stumbling to a stop before adrenaline stabs itself into your heart.

“Son of a bitch!” Rushing out, Hector wields a skillet in one hand—raised halfway above his head with a rabid snarl. “You!” He points it at Kyle, who has a small pistol gripped in his hands; bags haphazardly dropped back near the entrance. Your lips pull to a smirk when the Brit’s ready stance lessens. His wide shoulders lower like a dog’s neck fur. “You think I don’t know a government conspiracy when I see it! I lived in Jersey, motherfucker! What have you done with ‘er?”

“Hector,” you peek over Garrick’s shoulder as the Sergeant spares you a look. “Easy with that, man….Aim for the throat, though, would you?”

The skillet lowers, bright eyes landing on you while yours stick to his growing smile and twitching mustache.

“Kid!” Loud laughs echo. “Holy hell, you scared the shit out ‘o me this morning. What was that all about?”

“Misunderstanding, Sir.” Gaz tries to explain, placing the pistol back into the belt of his pants as you clock it before stepping out from his shadow. It looked like an X12 to you.

When did he get that, your eyebrows tighten and store that thought for later. There might be a chance to use that against him if you could get your hands on it.

The Café owner glares at the Sergeant as you fix the backpack strap over your shoulder. “Did I ask you, Son? I’m speakin’ to the lady.”

“An Ex.” You lie smoothly, feeling Kyle’s shocked eyes on you instantly. Itching at the back of your neck, you feign embarrassment. “Cheated on me in high school. When he showed up, well…I did what I’d wanted to do for a while.”

Letting the sentence trail, you were excited for what came next. Genuine giddiness builds in your lungs; fighting a smile as the Brit stutters beside you. Gaz’s eyebrows pull up even higher.

“Cheated…” Hector’s accent becomes more prominent as you twist on a heel and begin heading to the door—only then do you anchor a hand to your mouth to stop the belly-deep laughter. “Oh, you’ve some nerve, showin’ back up, Son. How dare you make her see your face—!”

“Sir, I, bloody hell, I’m not—” Gaz grumbles, shooting heated glances at your disappearing form. “This isn’t….” Stuttering like a rookie. Everything in VIP Protection Training and his copious years in the army was pulling null.

But no one was ever pulling his strings like you and it’s only been a few hours.

“See you, Hec!”

“Hey! Come get this piece of trash out of my building.” Your face turns sideways, and Kyle notices the smirk immediately. His chest goes heavy with a wave of seething anger.

“C’mon then, Kyle. You heard the man, didn’t you?”

If looks could melt people like gold, you would be a puddle of great Midas's curse before your skin hit the air outside, kicking the Sergeant’s bags away with a foot.

Oh…she’s wicked, she is. The steps he takes are firm, a great cloud over his head as he re-situated his cap with taut fingers and grunts aggressively under his breath. Insulting him directly was one thing, but the chips at his character were cruel. Can I even do this? Hmm, Laswell might still be able to pull me out, let me join back up with the boys.

But everyone was counting on him for this and his stubborn side knew that he’d gone through far worse than a few verbal attacks. Physical strength was needed for this job, but many overlook the larger aspect. And if there was a single thing that Kyle Garrick was prideful about, it was his mental fortitude. Rare were the times that rigorous interrogation even put a dent into his psyche.

“Just hold out,” he grumbles, ignoring the Cafe owner’s now-known disgust and picking up his bags. Gaz almost felt regretful for being so swift to place his body in front of a possible threat but scolded himself for thinking that immediately. This was his job. “She’s just scared, yeah? Doesn’t want to be around the bloke who,” he slightly cringes and lets the building’s front door close behind him, seeing your jacket ahead and rubbing at the back of his neck. “Who shoved her in a fucking van and put a gun to her head…Christ, Kate, what were you thinking assigning me to this?”

For the remainder of the small journey, Gaz stayed behind you, calming down as your enjoyment of his torment swiftly ended. Small victories weren't worth it, especially when the Brit says nothing in retaliation. Did your little dig at his character really insult him that much? It wasn’t the worst thing you had thought you could say. Not by a long shot.

Sure it seemed that you could piss him off, even if he never snapped and exploded with anger—he didn’t seem the type beyond back-handed comments—but if he didn’t respond it made no difference.

You…you wanted to hurt him. Make Garrick suffer. You just didn’t know how to do it effectively, or if you could. Now you knew, though, that attacks on his person and morals were the way to go for quick results of muteness.

The iron gate of your home was up ahead, and with a delving of fingers, you produced a key from your back pocket, moving your wallet out of the way to grasp it firmly.

I want them all to suffer. Your mind wanders as you twist the lock, hearing the metal shriek at you in figurative suffering. Blinking, the shadow behind you causes your body to be hyper-aware. A plan forms grimly, and you have to think if you even have the courage to try it.

“Hm,” you huff, shoving open the gate and calling over your shoulder. “Close it behind you!” Tossing back the key.

Kyle catches it, you know, because of the small thump of material meeting a ready palm. A moment later you’re walking through a path of weeds and overgrown bushes, eyes scanning the hedges blandly. You hear the gate close and a moment later, footsteps.

Gaz twirls the key in between his fingers, trying not to say something about the state of the place. But his brown vision roves from one area to another with muted shock.

Didn’t expect this.

Everything was falling into disrepair, even the gargantuan mansion of white and black coloring which normally would have been a grand sight to anyone with sense. Windows were all shut, the lawn looking more like a forest; the concrete underfoot was layered with dirt and insects—grass bleeding into the cracks.

What should have been a multiple-million-dollar home was looking more like an abandoned lot.

Kyle turns his confused stare to the back of your head, looking down at the key in hand.

“Past its prime, I’ll say that.” He speaks to himself, keeping his manners despite the discourse between the two of you.

It was one thing to bark back and forth like animals, but another to involve the place where one lives. But, your family was well off. There was no reason for it to look like this.

“Any staff I should be aware of, then?” he needs to ask as you ascend the front steps to the double doors. “Gardeners,” Garrick glances quickly at the greenery and coughs, “or, butlers, maids…anything like that”

“Everyone quit because of the publicity.” Your voice is unusually distant, and you push aside a raggedy welcome mat to produce another key. This one is smaller and rustier, belonging to the main entrance. “Shocker, people didn’t like being harassed on their way to work by camera crews and news anchors. Didn’t hire after that.”

Kyle’s feet shift, a strange feeling entering his skin as he blinks at you.

You slip through the doorway first and immediately dart to the side table to the direct right—dropping your backpack dismissively with a quick, yet silent, slam. Heart jumping, your adrenaline spikes.

Normally the small table would be reserved for purses and other small belongings, but before Gaz can come into the mansion you grab the slick body of a penknife and shove it into your sleeve with twitching fingers. Eyes snapping to the corners of the large foyer and looking over the gray walls and navy curtains. Creaking hardwood.

“Nice place you got ‘ere,” Kyle tries to lighten the mood, if not for your stubborn sake than for his. Easier to get the job done if at least one person was willing to engage, and he’s willing to attempt it again. The bags in his hand are carefully placed down.

A hand snaps to your father’s gag and you yell when he rages, body shifting forward feebly before a shadow descends upon you. A swift force keeps you back, and your head snaps upwards.

“Been in the family forever.” You slowly slip the blade out, trading weight from one hip to another and keeping it hidden. “Not really mine, at the end of the day.”

The hand digs into your shoulder, forcing you to stay in your seat as your lips quiver. It’s not delicate, the hold, and when your eyes scrunch in pain, he somewhat lessons it though not enough to stop the sting.

A slight relief at the non-confrontational action lets Gaz force out a chuckle.

“Lots of places like that over in England—you have to wonder how they’re still standing, eh? Solid foundations.” A pause. “Proper interesting pieces of history.”

Never would the image of sepia-colored eyes like those leave you again. Inlaid in brown skin and below dark eyebrows.

You stop fidgeting, all thoughts for a moment stilling. What had he said?

“You—” Stopping yourself, you turn and tilt your head in his direction, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he looks around the stairs to the second level and the small seating areas. Your voice echoes like it usually does; like a ghost unwilling to go to rest. Kyle closes the door behind him with one hand, only looking at you directly when it’s fully shut.

“What’s that, Love?”

Your feet rearrange over the rug.

“You’re…interested in that kind of stuff?” Kyle sees your hands clench but thinks nothing of it. His curiosity fills his lungs when he becomes familiar with the deadly expression on your face.

The material of his clothes moves as he shrugs, turning his gaze away when he knows it makes you uncomfortable. Gaz wasn’t ignorant—he knew you didn’t like looking people in the eye. As his orbs find the dusty and dim chandelier hanging dangerously above them, he notices your eyes now settle back on him.

“Not overly, but I can say History was one of my best subjects back in Secondary Education—erm,” his lips pull tight, a tiny pinch of a smirk on his face, “high school as you call it.”

You fiddle with the weapon secretly, unblinking vision stuck to Kyle’s feet. His comment made you think about the assignments you still had to complete for college; the papers to write. After all, if you flunked out of all the courses, you’d never be able to take your father's place at the museum. It was your ultimate goal, at the end of the day. Become like him.

The inability to move made your teeth bite down, but common sense won over. You place your hand into your pocket and slip the penknife inside, your other holds itself out loosely.

I have to be smarter than that. Discreet.

But you really wished you could have slid the blade home.

“Key.” Gaz nods, moving over and dropping it into your awaiting clutch before you rip it away and toss it to the side table.

“Ma’am,” the Sergeant’s face twists, but you’re already stalking past him, going off deeper into the house. Brown eyes follow. “I know you don’t want me here,” his voice bounces at the stark emptiness of the mansion, “but the only reason I’m staying is to keep you safe. I’m not expecting you to—”

“East wing is all yours.” You’re halfway up the stairs and still going, feet silently stomping over the various moth-eaten rugs. But the man cannot see your face as he’s left with a line on his forehead and a blunt frown on his lips. So much for your few seconds of compliance. He’d thought he was getting somewhere.

“I’d rather be closer. Encase there’s—” Again, he’s cut off. There’s going to be a lot of that.

“Keep to it after your little exploration. And don’t try anything, my father installed security cameras.” You didn’t give away that you didn’t know how to operate them, but that was beside the point.

Reaching the top, you head to the west and disappear down a hallway. Kyle hears one last comment bounce.

“I leave at eight every morning!” He’s left alone with only faint light and silent walls.

But, with a shake of his head and the grabbing of bags at his feet, he can’t say he’s surprised.

Looking about, Kyle takes in the lack of personality and blandness all around, forgetting for a moment that this home once belonged to a late museum director. He had expected more character—more expression. Certainly more light.

This place was at a stand-still, like time didn’t begin or end in this house and it simply was.

He sighs, nodding. He’d just have to work with it. “East wing. Brilliant.”

His mind still held doubts about this—had ever since Price had given him the order straight from Kate. How can you protect someone that rightly hates your guts? You had more of a chance of tearing him a new one than he did of getting you to cooperate. And that was saying something, considering he was professionally trained in hand-to-hand.

Again, Gaz had to ask himself if he was capable of doing this job. He thinks back to that mission three years ago, expression pulling tight as he jogged up the stairs and took a swift right.

He regretted what had happened, yes, but at the end of the day, it was just another target who had gotten what he deserved. It was what the Sergeant did—got his hands dirty to clean up messes and keep everyone else safe.

Your father couldn’t have been any more of a good influence than a bad one. Gaz had seen the file on him. The countless dead.

He wasn’t a good man, how couldn’t you see that?

“Mate, that was her fuckin’ father.” Growling, that sliver of civilian common sense slithers back in like a rope around his neck when he goes deeper into the house, past various open doors that show meeting rooms, libraries, offices, and art rooms. No bedrooms yet. “Christ, you’re losing it. Man got his bloody head blown off right in front of ‘er.”

When had he become so desensitized to this?

His brown eyes glared at the floor when he realized he couldn’t remember being horrified by anything he had seen in the last few years.

Death was death—didn’t matter how bloody it was, or how drawn out. At the end, all of it was just red.

But he’d never taken a moment to think about how that would be for someone like you. Unused to violence. There was a grand question that Garrick still didn’t know the answer to. Were you a hostage in that little stunt, or were you just leverage?

The Captain knew the answer—leverage. There was never any intention to actually pull the trigger on you. Kyle would have flatly refused if there had been, as would Soap. Ghost was still an enigma, but part of the Sergeant wanted to believe that he didn’t want that either.

Samson Row.

An overwhelming hatred struck the back of his skull as he entered the first room he saw with a bed in it, setting his bags on the covers and pushing his fingers to his nose bride. Eyebrows pull in.

No use getting like this over a dead man. Stay focused.

His fingers had only just begun to toss off the duffel bag from over his back when he first saw it.

His hands paused, body going as still as a stick when he breathed in tightly.

It was a portrait of your family. Picturesque. Mother on the left father on the right, and you—younger, of course—in the middle. Gaz blinks away to study the rest of the room.

It was incredibly large, with chairs and a couch covered by white cloth to imitate oddly-shaped ghosts and the same navy curtains over a wall of nearly all window panes. And yet no personal belongings other than the picture.

Brown eyes filter back, staring long at the small girl with a wide smile; the mother with a hand on her shoulder, and the father looking down at his daughter with a nearly missed look of adoration. Garrick half expected the image to bed down and kiss you on the forehead.

Looking away with a clenched jaw, he huffs.

Wordlessly, the Sergeant once more grabs his belongings and walks out the door.

—

You shook above the bathroom toilet, your breaths a heaving mess of warring instincts. Take down air or let the swirling of your gut cease—the offers were tempting. You’d been in here for most of the day, knees grinding into the tile with the efficiency of a blunt chisel; clothes ruffled as your jacket lay tossed on the floor back in your dark room.

Throwing your empty stomach up.

Struggling to think over the day, you force yourself back from the white porcelain, shuffling on jerking legs to rest your back on the opposite wall.

“He’s in my house. Oh, Dad, one of them is in your house.” Fingers weave through locks and clench tight, hitched words loud in the silence you’d grown to comply with like an old God. Cryptid horrors that stalk the hallways that you see from the corners of your eyes, ghosts that won't leave. “I couldn't do it, why couldn’t I just try?”

The penknife. It would have been instantaneous.

But you knew deep down you’d never even be able to get close.

Sweating and panting, you can almost hear him walking the halls, studying the layout with invasive digits. A parasite. And you’d just let him in.

The price on your head was scary, sure, but there was already a threat in your very home; learning the rooms like he had any right to be here—like he knew the memories that lived in the walls. Holidays were spent in the main living room, meals made as a family in the kitchen as the butlers watched with happy eyes. The man-made pond in the back behind a wall of green trees because your mother loved to watch the birds.

This house was generations of your very bloodline. Stories along every surface. History.

“He can’t be here.” You gasp, curling inward as you try and suck down larger breaths. Trying to calm yourself down with reassurance. “He’ll leave soon. He has too. He will.”

Just wait until Mom gets back, she’ll make them go away. The thought makes air return to your lungs; shaking come to a drawn-out ceasing point. Blinking, you let your hands fall to your lap, body slouching forward. She’ll make it all go away.

When you find the strength to rise, your feet only stumble slightly, propelling you out of the bathroom towards your bare-bones room. A bed, nightstand, dresser, and couch are the only articles of furniture seen outwardly; a fireplace set into the wall with a rug by it. Curtains drawn closed and smelling of charcoal and old linens.

Peeling back paint, you stare heavily at the nightstand’s drawer, seeing the copper handle and thinking. But you shake your head and dispel the thoughts.

The acidic taste in your mouth made you smack your lips, almost enough to make you want to gag again. But as easily as the high of injected panic came, it went with a low of immeasurable depths. Still, though, your fingers twitched with unruly nerves; anxious at every creak in the wood outside the door.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

Exiting your room, your socked feet know where to step so the wood doesn’t talk back at you, one hand rubbing up and down your face to bring the aliveness back. You needed coffee. Something with caffeine or an immensely high sugar content to keep the rest of this at bay.

As you turn a corner, your stomach grumbles, sweatpants bunched at your ankles. Food too, you decided.

Walking through the large, arched, entry to the kitchen, you make your way through in complete blackness. You frown, though aren’t surprised you’d spent most of the day inside your room—past the fabric barrier, the hidden French doors to the patio let in the faint light of a dying sun.

Around seven, if you had to guess. The loss of time to you should have been concerning, but you had in fact grown used to it.

Year number one after your father’s death was…really nothing more than a blank slate. But you didn’t want to remember any of that, truth be told.

Stumbling to the fridge, you grip the handle and pull.

“Bit late for supper.” Yelling, you jerk your hand back and whip to the shadow in the entrance.

The light snaps on with a flick of a finger, and the sheepish smile on Gaz’s face leaves vexation perforating the large room.

“Shit, sorry.”

“Do you mind, Garrick?” Your eyes go to his chest, looking away just as quickly when you spot he’d taken off his outer later and was only in the white t-shirt that hugs his physique. The army pants still remained. “What are you even doing down here? I told you to stay on your side.”

“Not really able to do my job from the corner, yeah?” He walks closer, noticing the layer of dust over the gas stove, and raises a brow; wisely knowing not to comment. “Heard you comin’ down, thought I’d make sure everything was solid.”

“I’m fine.” You take out an old carton of milk, nose wrinkling at the smell emanating from the interior. Kyle’s eyes narrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now leave.”

You were too tired for this.

Slamming the milk back into the fridge and closing the door, you plan to make the trip back to your room on an empty stomach. Kyle clears his throat, seeing an opportunity presenting itself.

I have to get her to at least tolerate me.

He’d take every occasion he could get.

“How about I have a go at it?” He speaks quickly as you freeze in the entryway, light from the kitchen spilling out into the hall. “Sandwiches?”

Your gaze stays dead ahead, numbly stuck to the paint of the wall as if it was going to move and entrap you. Lips pulling back you feel your heart skip a beat.

Kyle continues, hopeful.

“Can’t say I'm an expert at it, but I spent a good few weeknights fixin’ my own meals on Base.” You can hear him moving behind you, opening the fridge back up, and grabbing the few items you had that weren't expired. Opening cupboards that your father opened. Grabbing pans that your mother made eggs in. “...Ma’am? That alright?”

Your eye flinches minutely, cheek pulling upward in response. Yet the churning in your stomach was volatile, and if you went another hour without food you’d probably be passing out every time you stood up. What harm was there in taking advantage of the man? A meal was a meal, and you’d only had coffee today anyways.

Saying nothing, you take one step backward and pivot.

Gaz watches in shock, not expecting you to take him up on his offer. By the heat in your eyes, he supposed you wished you didn’t.

I didn’t see her at all after she disappeared into her room—not even when I was doing a sweep. The Sergeant had memorized the entire mansion layout in only two hours, going into every room except the one that had been closed tight. Yours.

It wasn’t hard for him, though it was tedious the fourth run of the place. He’d counted every window and every entrance or exit door and had locked every one that led outside.

But he kept re-walking past that closed door; his feet taking him back even as his mind stayed focused.

Gaz’s hand had been poised to knock at one point during that time period but had only stayed stationary before it fell back down to his side. It was best not to push too hard. Inch before the mile.

In the kitchen, he sees you slip onto the island bar stool, always keeping a side-eye on his hands as they dig through sparse ingredients.

Egg sandwich it is, then.

Your voice rasps out, “I don’t remember ‘cook’ being in the detail description.”

“Well, I sure hope it wasn’t.” Kyle chortles. His brown optics spare you a quick dart, seeing your form tense over the marble countertop as he swishes away dirt from the stove; placing a pan on top. You seem subdued…fingers twitch over the handle before his eagerness to earn your favor slowed. Sickly.

Your skin is sunken, eyes blinking fast and snapping back and forth at every sound his body makes as if he’d pounce on you. Keeping an ever-heavy glare to where his pistol was sitting in the clutch of his belt—visible from over his shirt.

The Brit swallows and looks back.

“My job’s just to make sure you live another day, yeah?” The man’s voice lowers and you look to the coffee bar near the abandoned family table. “I’ll be in the background the entire time.” Leaving the chair, you go to it and speak as the sound of cracking eggshells hits your ear like a caving skull.

“I have rules.”

Garrick nods firmly, but you don’t see it as you open a bag of fresh grounds and grab a mug.

“Copy, Ma’am. It’s your house—I’ll follow what I’m told.” He shifts his arms into a crossed position and leans back against the island as the eggs sizzle. You know he wants to say more, and too tired to care to give a retort or interrupt him, you let Gaz continue. “But I’m not willing to let that interfere with my mission. Any order I’m given’ll override what you tell me if it has to, even if it’s dodgy.”

You watch dark liquid fill the coffee pot in a deluge of blackness like a wave of ink, and with that inkiness, the pit in your stomach gets larger.

You could always poison him. Your eyes blink, hearing the slight beep of the machine in front of you as you grip your mug.

Nightshade.

“Well, then,” Kyle looks for plates and finds a stack in a cupboard near the entrance. “What do I need to know, Ma’am?”

Hemlock.

“I don’t like people messing with my things,” you level, filling your cup to the brim as Gaz takes the pan off the heat; putting out the flame. “Stay out of my room and the room next to it if you insist on walking around.”

Choosing the opposite end of the wide island, you put your cup down and sit. A plate with a piece of bread with the yellow and white sight of scrambled eggs is slid into view. Kyle does what’s best and goes as far away from you as possible to eat his fill as well.

The built man stands.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” he admits, “I’ll be taking a look around every day, but I doubt anyone would try and break in.”

The fingers which had picked up a small piece of egg paused with it halfway to your mouth.

Castor Bean.

“Why do you say that?”

“The curtains.” You spare a glance at his nose, watching him take a bite out of the bread and act like the answer was obvious. He swallows and you follow the action with a tight throat. “Erm, no offense, Ma’am,” you raise a brow slowly, “but am I safe to assume you never open them? Least, not all the way?”

“What do you think?” You eat your food and take a long sip of your drink, downing half the mug in one go. You really just wanted him to disappear like a bad dream.

Large quantities of Daffodil.

“Less of a chance of anyone else knowing where your room is—would take too long to figure out. Wasting time like that isn’t how foreign cells operate…quick and easy, y’know?... Any others?” Kyle finishes his plate quickly, moving to place it in the sink; not wanting to dwell on the comment.

You take a few bites of your own, wondering silently how he can eat so quickly, and nod.

“If you hear me screaming in the middle of the night, leave me alone.”

The air thickens.

Kyle blanks as you continue eating slowly, taking brief intermissions between bits to sip down more coffee. The tired moments of your sluggish eyes and twitching fingers. You don’t think to explain further, content to hear in those few moments absolutely nothing besides the beating of your own heart.

Rosary Pea. Induces tremors, high heart rate, and burning in the back of the throat. Fatal.

Your mother also liked her plants, though you doubted the fauna in the back garden was still alive. You hadn’t bothered to keep it up after the gardener quit.

“I’m…not following.” Gaz scratches at his chin, face pulled back in confusion, lightly shaking his head. “Screaming?”

“Screaming.” Taking the empty plate, you wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand. “In the night. I was quite clear.” A devious smirk whittles itself over your flesh like wood. “You’ve heard my scream before, you’ll recognize it. Sound carries.” Dismissively you toss your free hand. “As I said, it’s an old property.”

Gaz tries his best to not engage, but the words he’d been wanting to tell you slither off his tongue after a moment's thought. He had to make you understand. Strain forms again.

His head shakes with a slight parting to his lips. No matter what, every conversation always led back to an argument. “Do you think this is a joke?”

You’re walking back to your seat with the coffee pot in hand, scooping up your mug with the intention of bringing both back to your room.

You don’t answer right away, causing the man to call your name sternly; seriously.

“I hate you. That’s not a joke.” Your words bounce, not at all hollow like the wound in your heart. Violent and utterly true.

You didn’t want this man around—you didn’t want him in your house, you didn’t want him in your city, you didn’t want him living.

Walking off, the suffocating air trails after you as you disappear into the darkness, avoiding the truth.

But this situation is not a joke. Not at all, but you can never say that out loud. Where would your thin bit of control go? The brief moments of pleasure when you make Kyle’s patience and lax nature devolve into annoyance—even anger.

The words follow after you in a deep, aggravated, sigh.

“Yeah, trust me, Love, I’m well aware.”

Cold was a day in hell before you admitted to this boy you were terrified.

But how many more days could you keep that act up? Three? Five? Ten? How long was this even going to go on?

Your mind was scattered, torn between duty and self-preservation. Killing the Sergeant would lead you down a dark path, one you weren't sure you could take by yourself. But was that justice?

Is that what Dad would want? You have to ask yourself as you make your way back to your room in pitch blackness, guided only by the old walls of a home even more dented and destroyed than you were.

But the worst part was that you didn’t even know the answer anymore. And everybody who could help was limited to a stray cat that didn’t like you and a mother who left you here alone during your darkest moments.

The house was filled with ghosts, but you’d never felt more alone.

TAGS:

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promisesbutnevertokeep · 4 months ago

Text

Twelve days of newtmas 2024- Day 1

Should’ve worn a bloody scarf. masterlist

Trigger warnings: Mentions of illness, light amounts of swearing.

this was an idea by @jocollins so thank you!

Tag-list: @elliebellie-isthebest @griffinclawforlife @jocollins

“Fucking hell tommy.” Newt sighed when he hung up the phone call with Frypan.

Thomas, Frypan and Minho thought it’d be a great idea to go out in the freezing cold weather “it’s snowing we can’t miss the opportunity!” they said. newt had hopelessly tried to make them Wear warm clothes, unfortunately, only Frypan took heed of his wisdom.

now, Thomas was coming down with a cold in Frypan’s flat, and newt had to pick up the pieces.

it took ten minutes for him to drive to the flat, and when the door was opened, he could basically sense Thomas’ whining. The blonde walked in, apologetically looking at Frypan “I’ll get him out of your space soon, sorry.”

He walked over to Thomas, his love laid sprawled out with blankets near suffocating him, yet he still shivered “C’mon Tommy, home.” Thomas was about to refuse, complain and say he was too tired, but when Newt was looking at him with his disappointment frown, there was no room for question.

Newt had several different facial expressions that if misread, could be a disaster. He had the ‘thinking frown’ which made his eyebrows furrow and his hands often wandered to prop his chin up, his “sad frown” involved a slight downward turn of the mouth, and the ‘disappointment frown’ which was distinguishable by a silence and slight glare that made Thomas shudder. and that’s only to name a few.

Thomas propped himself up, walking so slowly it would make a snail look like it was sprinting. Newt got him to the car and they sat in complete silence. It wasn’t a comfortable silence. Thomas was itching to break it but he didn’t want a lecture, he’d rather die than hear Newt be disappointed in him.

And oh how disappointed he was.

“You should’ve listened Tommy. I told you to wear the bloody scarf and you didn’t. look where that’s got you. Now, when we get home, you’re gonna change into some comfy clothes, you’re gonna lay under the blankets and you’re gonna lay with Bubbles. I’ll get you some food, you’re resting until I see you’re well again. Understand me?” Newt didn’t look at Thomas once, looking dead ahead at the road.

Thomas mumbled a quiet yes, head hung in shame. He didn’t like upsetting Newt.

They arrived home, bubbles greeting them at the door with a happy meow and jump up onto the counter. The second she sensed Thomas’ illness she licked his hand, making sure he was okay. She laid down with him in an attempt to keep him warm.

After getting Thomas some soup, newt laid down next to him as he finished it all. He could tell that Thomas was upset with himself, thinking he’d annoyed newt. “I’m not angry at you Tommy,” he reassured “ just remember a scarf next time yeah?” he pressed a gentle kiss to his temple.

Thomas was half asleep, snuggled into Newt’s side. One incoherent mumble of agreement later and he was out like a light.

The brunette always remembered to wear a scarf afterwards.

woo! Happy first day of the twelve days of Newtmas!

this one’s a short one but I hope y’all enjoy.

#chloé chats #newtmas #tmr fandom #the maze runner #tmr #tmr newt #tmr thomas #tmr minho #cranky newt #tmr frypan #twelve days of newtmas #ahhhh

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fanaticsnail · 6 months ago

Note

have a small drabble as a gift for your hard work

Darlin'

TW: NSFW, MDNI, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, body worship if you squint

"C'mon darlin', I know you can do it, you can cum again on my tongue."

It was all he said as he ruthlessly ate you out in hopes of making you cum for the who-knows-how-many time, a choked moan falling out of your lips when his lips latched to your oversensitive clit and sucked in a way that made you see stars. Your hips bucked by themselves, sore back supported by his strong hand as he held you still in his grasp. The juices from your previous climaxes still coated the lower part of his face as he reverently worshipped you by showering the source of said juices in long licks and experienced open-mouthed kisses. One of your thighs spasmed around his head as the other quivered in his hold to spread you open, signalling him of your impending orgasm. His ministrations stepped up a level, starting to lick and hit that sweet spot in you faster and harder. Cries and moans mingling together in their ever-rising pitch, all it took was a small nip to your bud to make you cum harshly on his face, legs weakly jerking and body lifted off the bed. He didn't stop his licks, instead opting to drink in your release like a man stranded on a desert for weeks without food and water. The break only came when it became too much and you tugged at his hair, a silent plea to pause his actions. He merely gazed up at you with such an innocent and reverent gaze that made you feel both like a god sitting on the highest throne in the entire universe and like he hadn't unravelled you so many times it's uncountable by now in the few hours he was allowed to show his undying, neverending love for you. As you slowly came down from your high, white noise still ringing in your ears, he had already climbed up to nuzzle his nose against your cheek to whisper quietly with barely covered lust,

"So nice and pretty. Can you do it again for me, darlin'?"

Benn Beckman, Hawk-Eyes Mihawk, Shanks, Smoker, Zoro, Killer

I don't even know where to begin or what to say.

Thank you so much for this. Right into the October, I needed something to spur me on. Bloody hell.

I'm gonna be thinking about this for a while. I need to lie down. Thank you for this beautiful gift. I am screaming.

#one piece #x reader #ask snail #snail answers #not my writing #wish that it was #bloody hell #mihawk #beckman #smoker #shanks #killer #zoro #one piece smut #one piece x reader #x afab!reader #i am just #AAAAAAAAAAAA

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evieshifting · 1 month ago

Text

evie's realities

actress.

two time oscar winner. emmy royalty. everybody's favourite twd girl since 2010. 1992 baby. famously beautiful. infamously accused of dangerous liaisons ...

evie.

endgame married christmas 2023

but ...

the seven-year-long affair i had across multiple partners before i met the loml...

better cr.

you know the drill. perfect body. perfect hair. perfect grades. perfect life. everything goes according to plan ...

evie.

fourth wing.

trained to kill. plugging my ears, however. old money.

luella dorothea serafine charbonneau.

soulmate.

grey's anatomy/top gun.

just a southern cowgirl. talented. alluring. returning to the skies after a depressing stint at seattle grace ...

roq wraith.

endgame

hogwarts.

gryffindor witch. the teenage dream of going to school with my siblings. puppy love. my best friend harry's parents are wonderful.

evie.

significant other

lord of the rings.

the pirate girl. beloved by the elves. sauron's doom. aragorn's long lost sister. my most trusted allies are a 9 foot pantheress and an albino raven.

fated soulmate

marauders hogwarts.

troublemaker. raccoon patronus says what. 1940s reincarnation stops voldemort this time.

wren-james monroe.

situationship from hell

marvel.

little orphaned english girl thinks she can fight the gods. mother nature's daughter. in a very literal sense, btw. messy. they called her demon. she cries more than she laughs.

wren-james monroe.

significant other loml but i left him. endgame but he DIES.

maze runner.

natural pink hair. cares too much about snails that get stuck on their side.

lou.

significant other

model.

eighteen daydream. scouted for what. future astronaut. 2000s angel.

isadora rose frost.

toxic. toxic. loml. scandal. endgame. (ilovethisphotosmsjsjwehdkdh)

new girl.

cool girl. she has a rottweiler and a cat named william. sl*t. who said that. older men magnet. everyone is afraid of william.

isadora rose frost.

endgame.

outer banks.

english rich girl turned pogue. cool girl. queen of bad decisions. she might make a decent formula 1 driver one day.

luella dorothea serafine charbonneau.

twink bf one. twink bf two.

popstar/theatre prodigy.

there is only one meryl coffey in the evieverse. everyone's favourite popstar. hozier-level soul. too much love for them. sold out stadiums. billion streams in a week. our glinda. teenage breakthrough global phenomenon. ted lasso crossover. the talent knows no bounds bro. the papers say i'm as good as michael jackson and freddie mercury. i tell the papers to fck off. (the papers are correct).

meryl adaline coffey.

endgame endgame endgame soulmate love of my life.

the gentlemen.

happy housewife happy gangster life. age gap relationship. just a horse girl.

isadora rose frost.

gangster dilf malewife.

the office.

the office fashion icon. everybody loves you. baby turn that baseball cap around. the slowburn is torturous actually.

evie.

significant other.

vampire witch werewolf.

i have to be everything or nothing. elena gilbert to buffy summers pipeline.

roq wraith.

waiting room.

elusive. ethereal. gothic. peaceful. if the loml was a place. perfect in every way. cats everywhere. my butler is lit thomas from downton whats up. yes there is a unicorn in the forest no she does not trust me yet.

90s fame.

siren.

husband one. husband two.

1800s jane austen novella.

if i hypothetically went to a national trust in my better cr. found a portal to the 1800s. old money. stable boy. another bloody portal. titanic. soulmate. annnnd i'm back in the present. bump into said stable boy soulmate. we are reincarnations. all makes sense once again.

evie.

soulmate.

1940s hogwarts.

the curse of the dark lord. tom riddle's single weakness. accidental soul ties. glimpses as a bus passes. haunting his dreams. decay.

roq wraith.

it was never love.

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jaxxsoxxn · 1 year ago

Note

Funny scene imagine it

Boomerang and Bart talking about anything and having fun

Hal huh? Who knew that kangaroo actually is good with kids can you believe that Barry

Barry looking at boomerang like he’s the only person in this room hal knowing that look too well

Screams out Flash no are goddamn serious. Barry caught off guard. Wait what

hal of all of the men in this world and the women him why him Barry looks at the hand that he pointing at to boomerang wait no no no no no no no that’s no oh don’t lie to me I know that look Barry I don’t like him like that I promise hal you sure cause your face is turning red OK fine so it’s not a big deal a big deal. He’s a criminal well your girlfriend was once a criminal your ex-girlfriend you did not pull that card Barry I did. Hal

Come back to boomerang then Bart what the bloody hell are they screaming about I don’t know should we go stop them boomerang no kid let’s see this play out.

—🐌

Henlo Snail Anon! :D why won't I write the scene out a little ;>

Also, poor Wally, he didn't connect the dots yet :')

~~~

Bart and Digger share few things with each other - their hatred to boredom, their inability to think some things trough and stop moving being one of those, so when Barry sees them meet, he honestly expected them to at least understand each other.

The Suicide Squad (or something something force X) is helping Justice League with some type of mission, which is centered around the Bat, so unsurprisingly not many of them know exactly what is the mission about or what is the danger they are helping with, but it leads to the squad meeting up with a lot of sidekicks.

Of course all the Robins know Harley and Deadshot, Aquaboy or however he's called at the moment also know King Shark.

(said Villain waves at the kid almost shyly and Barry can see Hal roll his eyes in fondness - man was always weak for animals and after sitting trough Guy's drunk rants about sharks and how they're misjudged, he might've grew a soft spot for them which he's not proud of)

Surprisingly for him, Wally barely even knows Boomer. He blinks few times after somebody mentioned that Captain Boomerang was a Flash Rouge and looks closer, which causes few of the more vigilant sideckis to stop in their tracks and look from Kid Flash to the villain.

Digger, being one of the first to notice Wallies confusion, scowls visibly and just averts his eyes. Flash couldn't stop the slight grimace at the scene, feeling bad for the man. That is, until Bart, always his actions faster than his thoughts (though he's learning to do better) gets inside their meeting place and starts running circles around Boomer.

"Cap! Cap! Cap!" a show of affection in his way, chanting his nickname and running circles, while every person that can see above Bart could notice Digger bite back a fond smile.

His Speedforce gauntlet shines lightly while he grabs the kid behind his neck and pulls him up with an amused huff.

"Me, me, me." he repeated after the boy, slowly letting him down.

Somehow, ignoring the shock of few people around them, the two jump into conversation like it's their second nature. Bart still moves around like normally, but Digger does the same, if slightly slower.

When they finally stop for a second, all people can decipher is "Barry talks about ya do much." and then they brush it off, continuing.

Hal, gods bless Hal, doesn't notice it. He's smirking slightly, pointing at their general direction with his hand, while with the other he practically hangs himself on Barry.

"Who could've guessed that the kangaroo is good with kids! Especially since he put bombs in two of 'em..." he wants to carry on, but he can't help but catch the way his friend stares at his Rouge.

Barry has a light smile on his face, soft and so admiring that it's almost loving. His eyes are squinted and shining with delight at every silly joke Boomer and Bart make to each other. Green Lantern's jaw is on the floor so quickly, that he could be mistaken for a speedster himself.

"No, Barry, no." he shakes his friend lightly, to not cause a scene, but his eyes are wide enough for Flash to know he's serious. "Bar, there's no way--"

"What? What's wrong now?" his head moves in his way, he's eyes confused, even if they jump back to Boomer and Impulse whenever a loud cackle or a snort is heard. "What's with you?"

"With me?!" Hal slightly loses the control he had on his tone of voice. "I'm not the one thirsting for a goddamn Villain-!"

Flash stops him with his hand against the other's lips, his eyes darting around the room making sure that no-one heard the man. Somehow in the back of his head he can hear Wally also joining Bart's and Digger's conversation, though he's way more subtle than Impulse.

"Shush! It's not like that, I have no idea-"

A hand grabs his writs and Hal pulls his mouth free.

"Like hell you have no idea! If I'd look at anyone the same way you look at him, you'd probably play wedding bells!"

Barry can feel his face starting to match his suit and he grimaces at the sight of a prideful smirk on GLs face.

"Okay, maybe, but it's not a big deal!" he hissed back at the man, who looks at him like he's the biggest idiot here.

"Not a big deal-?! He's a rouge, your very own one! He tied you to a giant Boomerang once!"

"Okay, first of all, it was the funniest shit ever and it wasn't even that serious, second of all, the name Carol Ferris rings any bells?"

"Oh you did not-!"

"... Does anyone know why Bar and Hal are arguing over there?" Wally asks, staring at the pissy fight his two elders have, somehow in disbelief when Flash grabs the other by the hair and pulls almost lightly.

Bart and Digger don't stop talking about their favourite Just Dance dances for longer than a second, just to shrug at him.

With a heavy sigh, Kid Flash is still trying to put together how does Captain Boomerang know Impulse, since the only person Barry actually talks about is this silly Harkness guy or George, whoever he might be.

#idk #probably bad english #bsing trough life #ssktjl #<3 #boomerflash #flasharang #flasherang #flash x captain boomerang #Hal is a good friend #But also a goddamn parasite #When you've talked to your rouge about one of ur totally not sons enough that he knows him on sight #Barry who got a card for father's day from both Wally and Bart “those ain't my actual kids”#Yeah tell yourself that #Good father boomerang my beloved #I just want to say it isn't max erasure bc he also got a father's day card from impulse #A kid sometimes has 4 to 5 dads and that's ok

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eggymf-archived · 2 years ago

Text

of paper planes and wildflowers; 08

ft. ominis gaunt with f!reader (series)

chapter warnings: injured beasts, not proofread, unedited

chapter summary: when the opportunities that present themselves lead to a path of possible happiness, it’s up to him to decide whether he’ll finally seize it for himself or let his inner turmoil and insecurities consume him once again

word count: 5.7k

a/n: this chapter nearly made me punch the wall for all the good reasons :D

main masterlist || series masterlist || AO3

“...Can you even believe that?! I– Hey!”

You felt your arm get grabbed by a certain red-haired Weasley, pulling you out of harm’s way from colliding towards another student who was walking at a snail’s pace in the crowded hallways. Taken by surprise, your dazed eyes widened in temporary alertness before morphing back into its droopy state. You sighed, shaking your head rather aggressively to keep yourself awake. You had been barely sleeping for the past few days and it was clearly evident on your appearance: dark undereye circles, and skin devoid of its usual healthy flush and glow.

“Are you sure you’d rather not be in the hospital wing right now? Bloody hell, even an Inferius looks livelier than you!” Garreth commented, his eyebrows furrowing in concern as soon as he pulled you to the side of the corridor. You looked back at him with hesitant eyes, remembering the workloads that had been assigned recently for the weekend. In silent defiance towards the current state of your body, you uncorked a vial containing some Wide-Eye Potion, chugging it down in huge gulps.

“You can’t keep drinking vials of those!” Garreth chastised while you looked at him in feigned innocence.

“...Whoops?” you giggled sheepishly. The red-haired Gryffindor crossed his arms while half-heartedly glaring at you.

“Oh fine!” you grumbled, giving into his concerned glare. “I’ll rest up this weekend. I promise. No more late night explorations until I've rested enough!”

You glanced up at his pair of emerald eyes, who were gazing upon you in obvious skepticism.

“I sure hope you do. I won’t give that potion you keep on requesting if you don’t,” he sighed. Garreth reached for his bag, grabbing a flask containing his own improved antiseptic potion and a vial of dittany essence.

“I hope this’ll help the two unicorns you found,” Garreth said while handing over the potions to you. “That way, you wouldn’t have to sacrifice your health too much.”

“Not to worry, Garreth! They’re in good hands!” you grinned. The emerald-eyed male’s expression turned apologetic.

“I’m sorry. I normally accompany you on these travels, but Aunt Matilda has been watching me like an Augurey for the past few weeks,” he grumbled guiltily, recalling the stern expression on Professor Weasley’s face upon finding out the number of house points he had lost no thanks to his shenanigans. Poor Garreth now has extra assignments to do as punishment and was expected to inform his aunt consistently regarding his whereabouts.

“Well, if that’s the case, I could always count on you to help me brew some potions for my noble cause?” you piped, patting his arm while looking at him expectantly with hopeful eyes.

“Oh stop it you! That's not gonna work the second time!” he scoffed jokingly, earning a lighthearted yet tired chortle from you. The both of you walked to your next class, chattering rather animatedly despite your lack of sleep. A certain freckled brunette eyed both you and Garreth’s retreating figure while his opal-eyed companion had his arms crossed as he stood beside his best friend with an evident yet subtle scowl on his face — not directed towards you and the young Weasley, but towards the brunette himself who has been the bane of his existence for several days and counting.

“They seem pretty close. Way too close for comfort, don’t you think?” Sebastian queried with a seemingly oblivious yet underlying teasing tone, eyeing the blonde-haired male for any of his signature violent reactions whenever he was teased.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, they’re best friends!” Ominis exasperatedly exclaimed. “Why is that suddenly an issue?!”

“Alright, alright! Calm down, will you?”

“Calm down? You’ve been pulling my leg for days! Do you honestly expect me to be in a good mood?!”

“In my defense, this is for your own good, my poor lovesick friend. Denial is a painful struggle, don't you think?”

“The only painful struggle here is your incessantly insufferable assumptions, Sebastian!”

The onslaught of their rather pointless bickering continued with Ominis’ face turning into a ripe tomato out of sheer annoyance while Sebastian snickered at the poor Gaunt’s plight. Much to Ominis' chagrin, Sebastian was well capable of piecing the puzzle pieces together even without informing him of the entirety of the situation. The brunette was aware that there was something going on between you and Ominis. In fact, there were several tell-tale signs of the young Gaunt's hidden affections towards you that Ominis himself doesn't even notice.

The most recent incident, however, was the most ridiculously obvious one to date. And no, it wasn't the silly little moment that Sebastian had walked into in the Alchemy Classroom — this scenario was much more unexpected and out-of-character to the point it rendered Sebastian absolutely gobsmacked. It happened when Ominis had absentmindedly voiced his thoughts upon hearing your boisterous laughter during practical lessons in Defense Against the Dark Arts Class when Leander Prewett ended up flying back after a failed attempt in casting Bombarda Maxima.

"She laughs like a bloody seagull, but oddly enough, it's rather adorable."

Needless to say, Ominis was absolutely mortified upon realizing that he had said his thoughts out loud by accident. To make matters worse, Sebastian, who remained vigilant the entire time, had heard it loud and clear.

As the blonde-haired male oldest friend, Sebastian had seen the many sides of Ominis throughout the years. However, this was an entirely different version of Ominis that even the brunette wasn't accustomed to. Watching him cluelessly pine for one of their fellow classmates who seems just as whipped as he is was agonizing to watch. Hell, even Sebastian landed himself a date with Skylar Evans thanks to Ominis’ emotionally mature advice, yet the poor man was unable to apply his own words of wisdom onto himself. Much to Sebastian's humorous pleasure, the whole scenario itself resembles a comedically-written romantic novel that were commonly read by young ladies, and he was not about to discard that thought anytime soon.

Sebastian glanced at the sulky opal-eyed male beside him, stifling his laughter as he remembered Ominis’ predicament during that one class in Defense Against the Dark Arts. However, his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a rather sharp blow to his poor unsuspecting rib — Ominis’ infamous elbow jab of death: perfect for silencing insolent little lads who dare to incur his wrath.

“OW! BLOODY HELL, OMINIS!”

…..Scurvy grass, lovage, sneezewort, and…. Frog brains. Eugh.

Ominis grimaced as he read through his potions textbook, mulling over the ingredients needed for a Befuddlement Draught: the potion he was supposed to procure today as his additional assignment output. Meanwhile, you occupied the other burner on the same table. Potions Class had ended a while ago, and you immediately seized the opportunity in brewing the potion you had been intensively researching on while you were tutoring Ominis. You brought out your own set of jars containing the necessary ingredients alongside a leather-bound notebook that contained your own written notes. Before you could get started on your own potion, you headed over to Ominis.

“Got all your ingredients ready, I hope?” you asked. He hummed in response, taking out several jars from his own potions kit.

“I’m not sure if I have enough frog brains though. I’d rather not stick my finger inside the jar to check. Do I have enough?” Ominis queried, showing you a jar containing an ample amount of the said ingredient. A snort escaped from your nostrils.

“What? You’re afraid of touching frog brains?”

“They’re disgusting and have a pungent fishy smell. I’d rather not,” the misty-eyed male cringed. “So, do I have enough or not?”

“Relax. You do,” you chucked, checking his other ingredient jars. “Let me just set the flame for you. Will you be alright brewing the potion this time mostly on your own? I have to brew… Something.”

“The same potion you’ve been trying to brew for the past few days?”

“Unfortunately, yes. It’s trickier than I thought,” you sighed, scratching the back of your head sheepishly.

“Who would’ve thought that blood-restorative potions for beasts would be so difficult to procure…” you bemoaned to yourself.

“...I’ll just inform you if I need some help then,” Ominis replied, choosing not to pry despite his piqued curiosity.

“Alright then. I'll be here if you need me.”

You flipped your notebook to the necessary page, finding a recipe that had multiple cross-outs and note scribbles at the side of each error to the recipe that you had found in the beast section of the library. The list itself was rather intimidating, taking up almost an entire roll of parchment even with your tiny handwriting. The Blood-Restorative Potion for Unicorns — that was what you were attempting to brew for Merlin knows how many times for the last few days and it was the primary cause of your sleepless nights.

You would've spoken to Professor Howin instead regarding the matter, but the situation was far too dire for the two poor beasts. The last thing you would want is a poor unicorn mare and its foal dying of a deadly infection or blood loss by merely waiting for authorities to take action. You'd rather just nurse the poor beasts back to health on your own. After all, you are a well-researched Ravenclaw who is more than capable of taking such matters into your hands.

So how did you actually manage to ensnare yourself within this particularly complicated predicament?

It all began during the first night of your long-awaited freedom. After many troubling events that had recently occurred, you were in dire need of being out and about in the wilderness armed with just your wand, a satchel containing your essentials, and your trusty broom. Who would've thought you'd find yourself rescuing a locked up unicorn mare and its foal in one of the abandoned poacher camps within the Forbidden Forest?

By Merlin's name, the two poor beasts were in a dreadful state when you had found them: while the foal suffered minor injuries and was severely malnourished, the mare suffered greater injuries that involved several deep punctures and gashes on its flesh, while its mane, tail and horn had been cut off. While unicorn hair and horns were common potion ingredients, unicorn blood wasn't — the mere fact that you had found signs that depict the extraction of its life essence was horrifying.

Thankfully, despite the darkness that had enshrouded the place, you successfully found a temporary haven for the unicorns: a nearby cave that was well concealed behind thickets of trees and tall bushes. The thought of two defenseless creatures being exploited in such a cruel way set the blood within your veins aflame with both anger towards their perpetrators, and fiery determination to nurse both of them back to health to the best of your abilities.

Furrowing your brows in concentration, you followed the improved recipe that you had written down, ticking each step that you had done with your self-inking quill to ensure that no step had been missed. You carefully dropped ingredient upon ingredient right into your cauldron, stirring it every now and then according to the instructions. Finally, you turned the flame off, allowing the concoction to cool: if the liquid turns into a fine silvery liquid with glittery gold specks when it reaches room temperature, then the potion has been brewed correctly.

You were about to check on Ominis' cauldron, only to find that he is currently decanting a promising dark green concoction into an empty vial.

"You actually managed to brew it without my help this time!" you genuinely exclaimed out of happiness. A faint blush rose to his cheeks as he placed the cork onto the vial before heading to the Potions Master's table. Handing over his vial, Ominis patiently awaited Professor Sharp’s verdict. The said professor nodded in approval, scribbling an “O” beside Ominis’ name in his records.

“Well done.”

A wide-eyed Ominis walked back to the table while you, his tutor, cracked a proud grin at the sight of him who was still rather awestruck from one of Sharp's rare words of encouragement.

“I say, keep this up and you probably won't need my assistance the next time you brew a potion!” you chirped.

“I suppose my tutor's an excellent guide herself,” Ominis commented, a gentle smile gracing his lips. You felt heat rush to your face, wordlessly falling into a daze as you stared at his expression. An awkward silence fell between the both of you, and the present smile upon his lips morphed into a smirk.

"You do know that I can feel you staring, right?"

You cleared your throat immediately, masking your embarrassment with your usual display of bashfulness.

“No, I'm not!” you half-heartedly denied while he chuckled. You peered down at your cauldron, spotting several gold flakes swirling around a shimmery silver liquid. Clapping in excitement, you took out various empty flasks from your potions kit to properly store the entire batch of potion you had just brewed.

At long last, it was finally a success.

The faint sound of footsteps pacing onto stone floors echoed throughout the walls of the Undercroft. Ominis had been loitering within the room for quite some time, deep in thought for the good majority of the entire duration. He had managed to sneak out of the Slytherin Common Room and right into his sanctuary, skillfully avoiding the prefects that were on patrol. Holding a piece of parchment with one hand and his wand with the other, he finally seized the opportunity to read Anne's reply in peace.

Ominis, I must say, I hadn’t expected you out of all people to be facing love-related problems. But I suppose there’s a first time for everything. Albeit the surprise, it truly warms my heart to know that you’ve managed to find someone that you genuinely fancy. She seems like a fine young lady, if you ask me! As for my advice, please do take it with a grain of salt. Preferences do vary from person to person, after all. If I were in your shoes, I think it’d be wise to advance forward with your so-called “relationship”, especially if you are now well aware of her true identity. It need not be a blatant introduction right in her face, of course. Perhaps you could slowly try to integrate yourself within her day-to-day life first by advancing your status from a mere pen-pal to let’s say a secret admirer? Something of the sort. That’d give you an opportunity to think things through if you’re still hesitant. It may not be easy for you to push through with such matters, but I believe in your astute judgment. Also, I hope you aren’t berating yourself throughout this entire situation. Knowing you, you’re probably doing something of the sort. This is a reminder that you still deserve love regardless of your past. That aside, I wish you the best of luck! May this string of fateful encounters lead you to a path of genuine happiness. Sincerely, Anne P.S. If you do push through with your plan of possible courtship, do drop by in Feldcroft with her, won't you? I’d love to meet her!

The poor Gaunt’s heart hammered at Anne’s post script, blushing miserably at the possible scenario. Bashfulness aside, the thought of revealing his identity to you made his stomach churn: he hadn't the slightest idea as to how you'd react to the cold hard truth. Although the rift between the both of you were starting to lessen surprisingly thanks to Sharp assigning you to tutor him for potions, he was still not fully convinced on whether he should proceed with his pursuits or not.

If only there was a window of opportunity where the both of you could actually know each other on a slightly deeper and meaningful level.

Ominis sighed in defeat, heading out of the Undercroft to sneak back into the common room. Perhaps if he rested for the night, there'd be a better idea that would grace his head the next time he ponders about a solution to this predicament. The sound of the clock mechanism echoed throughout the stone stairwell of the Undercroft as the door opened. Ominis exited, stepping onto the marble floors of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower. He casted a Disillusionment Charm for good measure, deftly roaming through the dimly lit corridors once more.

Unbeknownst to him, aside from the several prefects roaming about, there was another charm-concealed student who was, like Ominis, sneaking around past curfew. His sharp sense of smell caught a whiff of a familiar floral perfume, and he noticed that the person was heading straight towards the staircase leading towards the exit of the tower. Ominis followed the scent, casually stopping right beside the person, who was mumbling to themselves.

“.... Two prefects. Now how do I—”

“Sneaking out of the castle, are you?”

“Mother of—!” you squeaked, revealing both of yourselves to one another. You glared at the misty-eyed male. Before you could utter anything, you were suddenly interrupted.

“Hello? Is anyone up there?” one of the prefects called, heading up to the second floor. Panickedly, the both of you casted the Disillusionment Charm on yourselves once again, creeping alongside the marble balustrade in hopes of not getting noticed.

While the prefect headed towards the corridor far from the stairs, the both of you immediately headed down to the first floor. You fired a spell towards a wall right at the far opposite of the exit, effectively distracting the other prefect that was patrolling around. You deftly pushed the large door open, exiting the tower successfully and headed towards several bushes while the young Gaunt followed suit. Both regaining visibility once again, you turned to Ominis, placing your hands onto the sides of your waist.

“To answer your question just now before you nearly broke my 2-year streak of not being caught, yes I am sneaking out,” you huffed, furrowing your eyebrows. “Didn't expect you to be out and about past curfew, Gaunt. Why are you sneaking around, anyways?”

“Well, I couldn't sleep,” Ominis nonchalantly reasoned.

“That's it?” you deadpanned.

“What? Were you expecting something more?”

“Seems too simple of a reason to risk yourself getting caught by prefects, don't you think?”

“Believe it or not, I am, in fact, a rather simple young man,” the alabaster-skinned male quipped while you scoffed in amusement.

“Really now? That's a surprise,” you mumbled.

“And I'm assuming that your present late-night activities have something to do with the potion that you brewed earlier?”

“....As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Pray, do tell. What exactly did you brew back in the classroom?”

You paused, contemplating on whether or not you should reveal your agenda for the night. The opal-eyed male raised an eyebrow, expectantly waiting for your answer. You grinned as an idea dawned upon you. You summoned your broom and mounted onto the seat.

“Fancy yourself a trip to the Forbidden Forest tonight?” you offered. “That's where I'm headed, actually.”

“...The what?!”

“Oh, come on! Don't tell me you're scared now? After all that sneaking around and you want to retire back into the dungeons?”

“I'm not scared!” Ominis grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Then don't just stand there, silly! Hop on!”

Hesitance grabbed a hold of Ominis, temporarily rooting him onto the ground.

“May this string of fateful encounters lead you to a path of genuine happiness.”

Recalling Anne’s recent message, Ominis sighed defeatedly.

“...I can't believe I'm doing this,” he mumbled, mounting onto your broom. He shyly snaked his arms around your waist, securing himself in place. Taking your wand out of your inner pocket, you muttered a spell, turning the both of you invisible for a certain period of time.

“Ready?” you asked, pushing your bashfulness aside as you felt the warmth from his body seep onto your back.

“Ready.”

A loud thump on the ground was soon heard, followed by a whoosh as the both of you soared into the night sky. Ominis let out an uncharacteristic yelp as you leaned forward, prompting him to tighten his hold as he felt a stronger gust of wind hit his face. He felt his heart pound against his chest out of sheer anxiety.

“You’re going way too fast!” he cried out while you laughed out heartily at his plight, maintaining the breakneck speed. The both of you headed up north, passing over most of the thick fog blanketing the Forbidden Forest. Ominis felt himself calm down as he started getting used to the speed of your broom.

You then spotted the small clearing where you often landed, and without warning, you maneuvered your broom to swoop down. The terrified screams of the poor Gaunt behind you caused you to guffaw boisterously at his priceless reaction. Soon, the whooshing of the air slowly died down as you leaned back to make the speed dwindle down significantly. The moment Ominis felt the ground beneath his feet, he quickly dismounted, patting himself and fixing his hair while you pointed your wand at your broom, vanishing it out of sight.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” you giggled.

“Wasn’t?! We could’ve died!” Ominis hissed. “I could've been killed!”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, pull yourself together! Now, the cave’s not far from here. Best be on our way, hmm?” you said, patting his shoulder and heading towards the supposed designation.

“This better be worth my time,” the misty-eyed male muttered grumpily, tailing after you while he held his blinking wand up.

A deathly silence loomed over the dreary-looking place aside from the audible crunching of leaves and stray twigs beneath your feet as you and Ominis traversed through the cold, dark forest. The crunching of leaves soon turned into faint footsteps against a solid surface, much to your relief.

“We’re here. It's just right ahead,” you informed Ominis, walking into the cave. The sound of dripping water echoed throughout the natural tunnel-like structure. Soft whinnies were soon heard alongside the sound of hooves trotting on grass from the end of the tunnel, much to Ominis’ surprise.

Upon reaching the end of the tunnel, you were met with a large open space with a large snakewood tree rooted in the middle. The moonlight peered through the small opening from the top of the cave, shining its strong rays of light directly onto the lone tree. Beside the tree lies a small spring, where the unicorn mare and its foal were currently drinking water from. Upon seeing your arrival, the unicorn foal cantered towards you in excitement while you quickly conjured up some food for it, stroking its mane affectionately as it began to feast on its treats that were laced with the potion you had brewed earlier. Much to your relief, the foal hadn't noticed any unusual taste from the pellets. Ominis quietly approached you, still unsure of what was happening. You grabbed his wrist, guiding his hand towards the foal until the skin of his palm came into contact with its short mane and small horn.

“... Unicorns!” Ominis breathed out while you smiled at his excited reaction. Ominis gingerly glided his hand across the fur of the young beast, only to realize that it had several line-like scabs littering its skin. His brow furrowed both in confusion and concern.

“Its skin… What happened?” Ominis asked while you sighed.

“Poachers. I found both of them in one of the abandoned camps nearby in a cage,” you explained grimly, attempting not to divulge into the explicit details of the beasts' prior suffering. Ominis pondered, putting two and two together.

It all made sense now.

“So they were injured when you found them and you've been treating their wounds for the past few days,” Ominis concluded.

“Yes, that's right,” you said, rather impressed with how perceptive the pale-skinned male was was. “And the potion I was brewing is a Blood-Restorative Potion for Unicorns.”

“That bad, huh,” the young Gaunt sighed sorrowfully. “How horrible.”

The unicorn mare approached you, laying onto its side for you to inspect its large wound. You gently removed the protective linen that rested atop the wound, revealing a stitched gash that was looking far less grim the last time you had seen it. You opened your satchel, grabbing a flask of the antiseptic potion Garreth had concocted and poured it gently onto the wound, watching it fizz up slightly. You then opened up the vial containing dittany essence, applying it in sufficient amounts to prevent a nasty scar from forming.

Meanwhile, Ominis knelt over near the unicorn's head, giving it an experimental pat on its neck before stroking it affectionately. He immediately took note of the mare's extremely short mane and the absence of its horn, merely feeling a stump on its head. His heart broke at the realization of the harrowing incident this unicorn must’ve gone through.

“Even your horn and hair wasn't spared…” he spoke softly towards the beast, who neighed in response.

“She'll be fine now. Her wounds are healing nicely,” you informed, much to Ominis' relief. “I'll have to check on them both every now and then, though. Until I make sure they'll be fine on their own.”

Ominis got up on his feet, conjuring a self-refilling feeder for each of the unicorns. You smiled in appreciation at his initiative, further improving the contraption in making sure that the feeds for the mare contained a stronger dosage of the potion you had brewed. You sighed both in exhaustion and in relief as the two unicorns had their fill of grub, heading over to the dry spot within the cave to take a rest. Ominis followed you, promptly finding a spot to sit on as soon as he heard the slight clinking of glass jars while you gently put your bag down.

With a wave of your wand, small pieces of rocks and several dry pieces of wood materialized out of thin air, forming a small circular fire pit. Small balls of fire shot out of your wand, igniting the wood. Ominis sat on the ground and leaned back against the cave wall, relaxing at the sound of the fire crackling. You plopped right beside him, gazing at the flickering flames.

“This was… A rather fun trip, I must say,” Ominis mumbled, breaking the silence.

“Glad to know it was worth your while. You're not a bad traveling companion surprisingly,” you chuckled. “...Aside from the screaming on the broom just now.”

“Did you really have to bring that up?” he winced in embarrassment.

“Lighten up, will you? It's not that bad!” you laughed. “It was rather funny.”

Ominis groaned in response, pinching the bridge of his nose at the flashback. The sound of neighs echoed throughout the cave as the unicorn foal trotted around the mare, bursting into a run while the latter followed its mischievous little offspring. You giggled at the sight.

“Honestly I'm relieved that they're doing so much better now. For the past few days this cave has been quiet aside from the occasional pained neighs from the both of them. It was horribly depressing,” you recalled.

“Well, I'm sure they're thankful for your help. Unicorns aren't usually the most social of beasts, yet they're here they are,” the misty-eyed male said in a rather comforting manner.

“Do you think they want to stay here? The forest has been quite dangerous lately with poachers lurking about,” you pondered out loud.

“I wouldn't be surprised if they do. We can just provide what they need here. Probably enchant the place with protective spells too.”

“We?” you repeated in a surprised tone. The misty-eyed male cleared his throat instinctively, feeling an all-familiar warmth spread throughout his face.

“It was a mere suggestion. It’s still your decision to make.”

“...I think it’s wise if we follow your suggestions, actually. I quite like the idea of these poor beasts having a chance to live in a safer place for once,” you admitted. “A chance for a new start is probably what they deserve. Poor things must’ve been traumatized after going through such terrifying ordeals.”

Ominis' mind wandered at the thought, strangely empathizing with the unicorns you had rescued. They reminded him of himself — just like them, he had gone through harrowing events that left traces of emotional scars deep within his heart and mind, along with permanently sullied hands. However, unlike these ethereal, harmless beings, he had voluntarily participated in an act of cruelty to save himself: he had to inflict the worst pain imaginable unto another innocent person. At the end of the day, unlike the unicorns, he still had a choice.

Did he truly even deserve that same chance of starting anew despite what he had done?

“A Knut for your thoughts?” you asked, jolting the blonde-haired male out of his musings.

“A chance for a new start… Do you think everyone deserves such a thing? Even those who have done atrocious things?” Ominis asked softly. You were rather taken aback by the sudden heavy question from the normally emotionally-secretive male. Nevertheless, you decided to share your opinion.

“Everyone deserves a chance at some point, Gaunt. Especially those who are determined enough to change for the better and genuinely make amends for their wrongdoings,” you answered with conviction as if it was the most logical answer to his question. You glanced at Ominis, who had an astonished expression on his face.

“... I know my answer might sound rather simple, but I do hope it suffices,” you chuckled as your eyelids began to slowly droop, fatigue slowly overtaking your body. The opal-eyed male did just as you said, mulling over the answer you had strung together. He was about to ask another question when he felt a sudden weight drop on his shoulder.

Oh.

Ominis' breath hitched at his throat. A reluctant hand reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb ghosting over your eyelashes. Finally after all that had occurred within this particular day, you had fallen fast asleep. He felt the flyaways of your hair tickle his jawline as you shifted your head around slightly before settling down as soon as you were comfortable enough. The silence this time was a cozy one — the soft crackling of fire along with your steady breaths made Ominis exhale in relaxation as he rested his head against yours.

He felt the beating of his heart drum steadily within his chest as he pondered about the many things he had discovered about you in this little impromptu trip. Unsurprisingly, his initial first impressions of you had been completely shattered at this point. In fact, he felt downright silly for even underestimating you when you were far more than just a typical book-smart Ravenclaw.

You were rather insane when it came to your adrenaline-seeking tendencies, unlady-like at certain times, surprisingly had a penchant for breaking rules every now and then, yet at the same time you were undoubtedly one of the kindest, wisest and most understanding persons he had ever come across. There were so many sides to you that have yet to be discovered, and he wanted to uncover all of what is concealed. The mere thought of being with you made his chest ache with painful longing and repressed desires.

Ominis bitterly chuckled at yet another mind-blowing realization, leaning his head against the cave wall with a burning urge to kick himself over and over for his incapability of fully grasping the extent of his budding feelings sooner. For the umpteenth time today, he finds himself at a loss for words regarding the huge risk he was about to take.

“I can't fucking believe this,” he whispered, conjuring a roll of his scented parchment, an envelope, a wooden board, and his self-inking quill. It was now or never: he had to write this before his self-depreciative thoughts held himself back once again. He couldn’t risk losing this opportunity — not when the answers to his doubts were crystal clear to him right now.

He wanted to try regardless of what the outcome may be.

Dearest Lucie, You might be surprised that you’ve received my reply in this manner, and I hope you do not mind my rather bold approach this time around. Truth be told, the main reason as to why my reply took so long was due to the mishap of me discovering your identity by mere coincidence. I shan’t divulge into the details as to how I’ve uncovered this crucial information, but I have been thinking about this for quite a while now. I suppose I let my cowardice get the best of me at some point hence my silence, but I couldn’t keep this secret from you after all. I wouldn’t blame you if you’re upset with my actions, and I deeply apologize for that. As for my intentions now that I know who you are, I believe that the decision whether to continue this correspondence or not ultimately rests with how comfortable you are with communicating with me. To be completely honest, I’m quite fearful of your possible negative reaction once you find out who I am. I know I’m being rather unfair with this, but if knowing my identity is important to you, is it possible if I could just leave clues for you to figure out? I promise I won’t make them too difficult. It’s just that I don’t think I can handle approaching you right away in person. Whatever your decision may be, I’m glad that I got to know you — even if it’s just through letters. With love and adoration, Ves

As soon as the ink had dried up, he folded the parchment neatly and slipped it into the envelope before stuffing it into his inner coat pocket. He vanished the objects he had conjured, resting his head on top of yours once more. He shut his eyes, relishing in the tender moment with you as he slowly drifted off to his own slumber with a faint smile across his lips.

The blonde-haired male has finally made his decision: this time, he would give this letter to you on his own without any assistance from your owl.

< chapter 7: denial and desires 🔞

chapter 9: uncontrollably fond >

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@xadriianaaa @roohuh @pugsnotdrugs92 @wolfiehardz @auxiliare @ohantonia @superblyspeedydragon

#ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x f!reader #ominis x reader #ominis x f!reader #ominis x y/n #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x y/n #ominis gaunt fluff #ominis fluff #hogwarts legacy ominis

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mydisenchantedeulogy · 10 months ago

Text

The Highest Cost [Chapter Five] Glutton [David]

Warning(s): hunger, blood, desire, attraction, knives, realization, dread, mild comfort, OC.

No Minors Allowed!!

The more David thought about it, the more he realized that it could not have been the sun he saw that night on the beach. For obvious reasons, he would have immediately burned to death - the high cost of being a bloodsucker, as the ‘Vampires Everywhere’ comic book at Atlantis Fantasyworld foolishly called his kind.

The wisps of yellow light twisting like thick smoke around Maria were not thin rays of sunlight, but some sort of aura. He could not make heads or tails of it, but in his defense, a night or two ago, he did not know legit psychics were even real. This phenomenon was new to him, as new as letting a human get close enough to him and walk away with her life.

David had his reasons, or so he told himself. Maria was…alluring. Her blood tasted like mango, the sweetest fruit he could think of, and her visions were accurate, dangerously so. If she knew about him or learned about the one who sired him, then their existence would be in jeopardy. He should have killed her, and left her body to the crabs the moment Paul brought her to his attention. But then there was that damn aura; bright and radiant. Why did he see it and no one else?

I tasted her blood.

The wicker wheelchair David declared his own gave a low squeak as he shifted, placing his leg over the armrest. Years of rust had claimed the wheels, they sometimes locked up, but he liked it a hell of a lot better than sitting on the mildew-scented floor. Raising his hand, which at the moment was gloveless - the one Maria held, the one he scratched her with - David picked beneath his nails like a starved dog searching for a scrap of food. One taste. But there was none left. He licked his fingers clean the moment her blood touched his tongue. He always had a voracious appetite, but this was too much.

David tightened his jaw. He slid back on his glove to prevent himself from picking his nails bloody. What was the deal with Maria? If the other sired drank from her, would they–

No.

The moment he imagined them - Marko, Paul, and Dewayne - sinking their fangs into her soft fair flesh, bleeding her dry like a stuck pig, something in him protested. It was not like him to be possessive. David often shared his toys, but Maria was not like those dull flat surfaced marbles he did not mind his ‘brothers’ borrowing and using. No. She shined. Maria was like a galaxy marble with a vortex in her center akin to the sun; he yearned to stare into it, even if it burned him to ashes.

So he made a choice. As soon as the moon was at its highest, David left the sunken hotel and zoomed off on his chopped XT500 toward the boardwalk. If he could not find Maria there, he knew the name of the motel where she and Candice or Candy were staying - he did not bother to remember her sister’s name. It was a cheap establishment, not like the Atlantis Hotel in its glory days. A haven for zombies and broke tourists. When he took her back to the boardwalk after the incident, she let slip where she was staying and then deflected as though it were meant to be a secret. From whom he was not sure.

In the end, it didn't matter, he was not going to follow her there. An invitation wasn't needed, but even so, David had no reason to go in. If he wanted to kill her, he would do it outside. Motels were much too public, some even used cameras now. Times were not like they used to be.

The lights from the boardwalk soon came into view. David put aside his thoughts and parked his bike on the sand in the shadow of a wooden support post, then hiked up the stairs. It occurred to him late that he was flying solo tonight. His ‘brothers’ were out doing their own things as they sometimes did. He never pried and in return, neither did they. But as it always did, it felt strange to be alone. He felt like he did before he was sired, moving through life at a snail's pace. A sad man's parade.

Even the universe gave him a wide berth as he wandered through, searching. Hunting. And then he found her. At first, David thought he saw it again, the aura twisting like thick smoke around Maria, but it was merely a trick of the light; a teasing fantasy that for a moment had him chasing ghosts.

She stood in front of a flashing bulb, at the base of the coaster, staring up as though she was frantically searching the night sky for something. It took David a moment to realize that Maria was watching the car as it traveled around the track. Each time the bulb flashed, a halo of light surrounded her, teasing him over and over as if to say ‘A crumb, not the whole meal’. He scoffed and approached her.

“If you want it so bad, why not ride it?”

Mia jerked in fright and diverted her eyes to David. She was not expecting to see him. His sudden appearance made her heart race and her face flush.

“W-what?” She stuttered.

David pointed up with a gloved finger.

“The coaster. Do you want to ride it?”

It took her a moment to calm herself down, but once she did, Mia shook her head in protest.

“Hard no.”

Amused by her answer, David snorted. So then, why did she look so desperate as she watched the car tear down the track?

“You sure about that?”

“I'm terrified of heights,” Mia admitted. “But my sister, she loves thrill rides; coasters, Farris wheels, the ones that send you plummeting to the ground. No thanks.”

It made sense to David why she was so hesitant to get on his bike, why she held him so tightly. Humans were, all the same, consumed by fear. His curiosity was piqued at least. She was waiting for her sister.

“Carousels more your style, Maria?” He asked.

She frowned. The dream was still fresh in her mind; the body and the grumble of maggots. Mia curled her toes.

Not anymore.

“Where are your friends?” She deflected.

David grinned. She was an open book, and yet he was still intrigued. The most secret aspect of her life was her visions and she seemed intent on keeping them hidden. Others, sure, but his…there was something she did not want him to know.

Her curiosity was ignored as Cadence walked from the exit gate with a wide grin.

“That was bitchin’. You should have rode with me.”

“I was content watching,” Mia retorted.

Cadence side-eyed David, then raised a curious brow. The look on her face read: ‘Are you gonna introduce me to your friend’?

“This is uh…David,” Mia spilled. Her face heated up in embarrassment.

She had no intention of Cadence ever meeting him, or seeing him again herself for that matter.

“So, you're David,” Cadence stated teasingly. She ignored the glare that Mia shot.

David merely grinned. It was entertaining that she spoke of him to her sister like a high school teenager.

“I did not interrupt anything, did I?” Cadence asked.

David considered telling her yes, but honestly, she didn't. Aside from Mia's fear of heights.

“The carousel. I asked Maria if she wanted to ride it.”

Did he? Regardless, the answer was–

“That sounds like fun,” Cadence interjected. “You two should.”

Mia shot her a look that read, ‘Are you serious’? Did she not remember the dream? The rotting, maggot-infested body? If she did, she did not seem to care.

“Yeah. I think that would be good for you. After all, you've just let me drag you around all night. It's been your dream to ride the world-famous Santa Carla carousel.”

It hit Mia like a bucket of ice water. She knew what Cadence was trying to say. But why? Perhaps she wanted to test a theory.

“Sure…I'll go,” Mia faltered.

“I'll be in Atlantis Fantasyworld when you two are done,” Cadence mentioned.

With a reassuring smile, she turned and walked into the crowd before Mia could interject. David found it odd, but it was not his business, whatever inner conflict the two were having. To all he knew, Mia was just a bit shy.

Guiding her to the carousel, David did not wait for the rotation to stop. He leaped on, then turned and drew his heels together like a soldier standing in attention.

“Are you comin’?”

Mia paled, feeling like she was about to leap into the maw of a hungry lion. It was not the action that frightened her, but the dream she had regarding the carousel. What if she got on and saw it again, slumped against the bench, amongst the riders?

As David disappeared within, Mia had a choice to make; on or off. Into the maw of the mechanical giant, or not. She took an uneasy breath and with a short burst of courage, she leaped on. Her hip smacked the wooden tail of a black horse with a white mane, which would later no doubt leave a bruise, but she was otherwise unharmed.

There were no visions or no bodies. She was fine.

With a sigh of relief, Mia walked through the rows, searching for David. It should not have been hard to find him; he was of average size, nearly a head taller than her, with platinum hair. He stood out like a sore thumb. Yet, she couldn't see him.

A hand suddenly reached out of seemingly nowhere and grabbed her by the arm. Its icy grip like the hands of death bit into her skin, then yanked her back until her calves pressed against the wooden frame of a decorative bench. Force took care of the rest. Mia toppled back and fell onto the seat with a low thud. The shock lasted but a second, and then she realized what had happened.

He has got to stop doing that.

David, resting with one leg crossed over the other, watched a slew of emotions cross her face. Shock, pain, realization, then fear. The latter baffled him.

“You look like you've seen a ghost, Maria.”

He had no idea. At that moment, she saw a faceless corpse. Even the bench had the same damn black and white painted wood as in her dream. Mia felt faint.

“I'm sorry. I want off.”

David went against his nature and uncrossed his legs, leading her head to his thigh so she could rest. She was silent as the grave, but her body was tense.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

After a long spiraling moment, Mia felt a little better. She did not want to, but she figured that she had better explain herself.

“Have you ever…dreamed about places you've never been before.”

David shifted and leaned forward.

“I can't say I have.”

“It's terrifying…like being connected to a place and yet you can't figure out why.”

She opted not to mention the recent dream.

“I've seen this town before, but until I got here I didn't know it.”

David understood a little more why Mia was so hesitant to ride the carousel. She must have dreamed about it, and whatever she saw terrified her.

“Are they about you?” He asked. Taking a strand of her blonde hair, he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. “Your dreams.”

No. How could they be? She was not in a single one of them until recently. Mia turned a bit and peered up at David.

“What would make you think that?”

“Because when I first met you, to see a vision, you asked me to take off my gloves. Isn't that how it works?” David explained.

Mia hummed. As far as she knew.

“You can't see into someone's life without a direct touch,” he furthered.

It was as if in that moment her mind became clear, as though she had come off a lifetime bender, but with it came an intense feeling of dread. Mia sat up in disbelief.

“I'm seeing my future.”

And in it there was death.

The carousel jerked roughly, then came to a complete stop. David stood and waited for Mia to join him, but she was in a daze. Then like a light, the moment passed and she stood up.

“I should find Cadence.”

She was shaken up by the realization. David wondered why. He considered walking away, returning to the cave before her human drama lured him in, but as much as he did not want to admit it, he was hooked. He felt like a stray that had found its meal ticket, a stray that followed when its human leaped from the carousel and sprinted toward the only comic book shop on the boardwalk.

A familiar scent wafting in the breeze caught his attention; the scent of cheap booze and body odor mixed with the salt of the ocean. David curled his nose in disgust. He was the first to see them, a pair of wannabe beach boys wearing grungy denim at the entrance to the shop. The brunt of their teasing was directed to none other than the eldest Ross sister.

“What are you gonna do, Maria?”

It took her a moment to realize what David meant, and then she saw them herself. By the time she reacted, one of them had Cadence pinned against the window of the shop.

“Hey! Assholes!” Exploded Mia.

She took off with the speed of a record-breaking sprinter and recklessly, in David's opinion, tackled the beach bum who had a hold of her sister into a rack of 10-cent comic books. Detective Comics #31 went flying and landed on the boardwalk with a sad plop.

The second wannabe, who until now, was caught off guard by Mia’s sudden attack, pulled a stiletto switch knife with a black handle from his boot. He pressed the slide trigger forward and a 9-inch blade sprang free. The kid was wet behind the ears, most likely stole the knife from his daddy, because the moment he took it out, he was pissing himself in fear. David did not need enhanced senses to smell the pungent odor of ammonia wafting in the air.

But worse than an experienced Surf Nazi with a knife was one that did not know his ass from a hole in the ground. The kid stepped forward and let out a great roar as he swung the blade through the air like a knight swinging a greatsword. But he missed. Mia turned her eyes to him in shock and before David could grab him, the kid swung again. The second time, Mia lifted her arm and the blade slashed deep into her forearm. Rivulets of blood splattered across the protective sleeve of Superman #146.

With strength he did not mean to display, David yanked the kid's arm back so hard, that his shoulder dislocated with a loud pop. He wailed in pain like an old street cat, then released the switch knife. David caught it before it hit the ground; the edge of the blade was stained red.

These are illegal.

Had been since 1958.

Based on the crowd of people gathering, David retracted the blade into the handle and shoved it into his coat pocket. If Big Ed, the security guard caught him with it, he'd call the police. He had no love for David, or his ‘brothers’; not after all the trouble they caused him over the years. Hell, if he caught David at all on the boardwalk, he'd smack him with that wooden nightstick he wore attached to his side. He already warned him once that he was banned.

The beach boys had the right idea. They tucked tail and ran like dogs the moment Edgar Frog, one of two eccentric brothers who ran the Atlantis Fantasyworld comic book shop came out to assess the damage done. It was odd not to see his lanky brother, Alan trailing behind him, most likely dragging Big Ed from his booth.

David tightened his jaw and squatted beside Mia. Her sister gave him a brief look of relief, then stood to explain the situation to Edgar. She oddly kept a wide berth from her sister, which intrigued him.

“That's gonna need stitches.”

“Hurts like hell,” Mia disclosed.

Blood oozed from the cut and down her arm as if it were teasing him. ‘Look, but don't you dare touch’. His stomach twisted in pain. He needed to feed.

“I need to split,” David mentioned. “The security guard and I have a past.”

“Take me with you,” Mia pouted.

She disliked hospitals. Not to mention, David was right, she needed stitches.

“You can't go where I'm going,” he drawled.

Mia snorted. “Maybe next time.”

Next time. Did she want to see him again? There was no denying the magnetism. She sort of liked talking with David. He cleared her head, though perhaps it was the blood loss.

David grinned. He did not want to humor her, but even he was sure there would be a next time. Standing, he disappeared into the crowd just as Big Ed's fetid smell flooded his nostrils.

At a distance from the attention-seeking onlookers, he grabbed onto the steel post of a street lamp and leaped onto the boardwalk railing that overlooked the ocean. David fished out the switch knife and pressed the slide trigger to release the stained blade. Her blood was dry, but regardless, he ran his tongue over the cold steel to taste it.

An intense euphoric sensation overcame him and his eyes fluttered closed. What made her blood so unique? He almost wanted to starve himself until he was able to take his fill; a glutton for punishment.

When at last he looked, searching with predatory eyes, David was pleased to see the aura of his meal ticket within the crowd. He was content with being a poor lost stray, just for a chance to gorge himself. What he didn't know though, was the next time he tasted her blood, it would be because she offered herself to him.

#lost boys fanfiction #david x oc #lost boys fandom #david lost boys #oc

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nat-20s · 2 years ago

Text

A Queer Fellow Indeed

rejoice! tma victorian au mini fic be upon ye!

~*~

There was good reason that Jonah and all his various proteges were fled from the newly established institute by 6pm on the dot. All, that is, excepting Jonah’s second in command and personal assistant, one Mr. Jonathan Sims.

Mr. Sims was a man who firmly believed that if the price of progress that went along more hurriedly than snail’s pace was a lack of sleep and, on occasion, sanity, then so be it. Perhaps his colleagues took more joy in social callings than himself, or perhaps they simply put more stock in the rumors of what happens in the basement once the sun set, but no matter. Him and Mr. Magnus were building something great together, and those rumors were merely a fabrication of those either too superstitious or too dull to be central to something so triumphant.

Well.

Mostly fabrication.

Yes, indeed, Jonathan had had some... encounters in the past. The worst of which, however, had occurred long outside of the confines of his employment. Honestly, though, everyone employed at the institute is well aware that they’re recording, collecting, and cataloging the esoteric and paranatural occurrences/items. If these things were to be attracted to a place, The Magnus Intitute has purposefully made itself a focal point, so a few odd happenstances here and there were to be expected.

And odd really was as far as it went. Other than the worm woman. But, as both him and Mr. Magnus have stated repeatedly, that was an extreme and isolated incident.

No, most of what Jonathan has encountered during his frequent late night forays amount to little more than a combination of a completely natural stillness, a lackluster amount of sleep, and the devilish tendency of candles to cast shadows that trick the eyes.

Thus, in his mind, it was more than reasonable to simply ignore the hooded figure standing in the corner of recent literature acquisition. If he went around startling at every thing that might have resembled a threat, his heart would surely be worn before his thirty-fifth year. So, yes, there was a suspicious figure in his beloved* bottom floor, and yes, he was going to stroll on by to gather a particular volume about this history of sacred clowns without giving a second thought.

This, in hindsight, rather idealistic approach lasted all of three seconds before the figure stepped closer to the light, revealing a horrifically solid person.

Not to use too harsh of language, but dammit all.

Four things stood out immediately to Jonathan: the person had taken down their hood, the person underneath that hood was not someone Jonathan recognized, the person was wearing the most peculiar garb he had ever witnessed**, and the person was currently questioning him. In basic, bordering on vulgar, language, the stranger asked, “Wait, who the hell are you?!”

Jonathan considered himself a rational man. His former betrothed had laughed for a frankly excessive time when he had told her as such, but he hardly considered her an expert on his demeanor.

That being said, immediate antagonism was probably the incorrect choice for the situation at hand. “I am the co-founder*** of this institution that you are currently trespassing on.”

“Trespassing?? I bloody work here, if anybody is-”

The person (?) cuts itself off, lets out a little ‘mm’ noise and continues, “Co-founder? You look pretty good for someone nearly two-hundred years old. That does explain the fancy dress though.”

Oh, good, this person is clearly insane. “If you would so kindly make your exit-”

“-did Elias put you up to this? Or, I dunno, Tim? I mean, sure, haven’t seen you in three weeks, Timothy, but glad you could find time out of your busy schedule to stick a cravat on some dude-”

“-will you Stop! Talking!”

The person froze for a moment, and Jonathan almost had an opportunity to think. However, in the blink of an eye, the person had taken steps closer to him, and it was now very apparent that they..it...they? Had a good 3 stone and 6 inches, minimum, of physical advantage over him. If they decided to become violent, Jonathan didn’t even have a letter opener on him. On the plus side, he would no longer have to worry about stressing his heart to the point of failure.

Seconds, or minutes, or perhaps hours passed where mere centimeters separated them, and Jonathan should’ve been frightened. Or, no, he was frightened, but he didn’t feel..threatened, per se. Enough things try to kill you and you start to get a sense for whether or not you’re being stared at with murderous intent or just..stared at.

His hunch that it was the latter turned out to be correct, as the figure backed up to give them both their own air, and asked, “Seriously, are you fucking with me?”

Jonathan did not sputter, but it did require a few false starts before he spat out, “I most assuredly am not!”

The person sighed and placed their hands over their face. “Oh fuck me.”

“I most assuredly will not!”

Removing their hands and looking back at Jonathan for the sole purpose of rolling their eyes, they respond,” Ohhhh my god, it’s an expression. Christ, is this really gonna be a thing? Never mind, whatever, don’t worry about it. Just, uh, Mr. Co-founder, quick question, and if it’s the answer that I’m really fucking hoping it is, I’ll be on my merry way, but. What, uh, what year is it? Currently?”

Certainly a lunatic. “It is 1821, as you should already know.”

The person becomes weighed down with an instant exhaustion that Jonathan has seen reflected in the mirror many a time. “Shit. Right. Okay then. Nice to meet you, I’m Martin, and I’m..decently sure I’m from the future.”

*or beloathed, depending on the hour

**and he had spent more than his fair share of time at fishmarkets and theaters

***not technically true, but close enough

#tma #jon sims #martin blackwood #jonah magnus #victorian au #my fic #lmao have fun!!#i might add more but I make LITERALLY zero promises #also no i didn't edit editing is for CHUMPS #(aka people who do not need to go put a fitted sheet on their bed at 1:30 am)

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annimator · 4 months ago

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I’m a week late to the party but OH MY GOD THE DC4 PREMIERE WAS FUCKING AMAZING

(Reaction’s under the cut as always)

• An abandoned Carnival is honestly an AMAZING setting for a reality show lets be real

• ofc this place has harsh weather and all that shit. also poor bird ;-;

• TREVEKKKKKK

• WAIT THEIR COTTON CANDY’S THE SAME COLOR AS THE TEAMS

• Also Derek & Trevor as a whole honestly hit different once you find out they’re based off of DC’s co-creators, who are also married to each other. They really created self-inserts of themselves, made them the hosts of the series, and decided “yo we should make them a couple lol”. im not complaining btw, I think it’s rlly cute :D

• THE WAY THEY LOOKED AT EACH OTHER BEFORE HOLDING HANDS AND MOVED CLOSER TO EACHOTHER OMG

• INTRO TIMEEEEEEE

• YOOOOOOOOO THE CONTESTANTS ALL LOOK SO GOOD AND INTRIGUING

• “Men often underestimate me. They think I’m all beauty and no brains, but when you have to fight this “male-dominated world”, you tend to learn a few tricks” QUEEN SHIT, I LOVE HOW THIS IS THE FIRST LINE WE GET FROM ANY CONTESTANT THIS SEASON

• I can’t take Ted’s monologue seriously considering how many L’s he took this episode lol

• I’m gonna be so hyped for anytime Hannah & Tristan appear on screen and there’s nothing y’all can do to stop me I LOVE THEM SM

• “People have a bad impression of actors on this show. I’m here to prove that Hollywood doesn’t turn you evil, and I’ll win the right way.” YEA YOU GO IVY

• “I don’t look diabolical. I look like the bloody nerd you shove in lockers.” You’re right Spencer lol. Also you’re totally gonna crush on Diego so hard this season, trust me bro

• Trevek casually holding hands throughout the episode implies that everyone knows they’re a couple and everyone’s completely chill with that. Them casually being a background relationship amongst all the chaos (pun intended) is honestly a great direction imo

• Derek calling this season a fresh start honestly feels like he’s talking to the viewers, which is understandable after having the OG casts from season 1 & 2 get their endings during the All Stars finale & the TomJake spinoff. I miss them sm ;-;

• The first challenge is making a shelter? What is this Pahkitew Island? /j

• Idk if anyone else caught this detail, but when Trevor threw the maps towards the contestants, Derek moved his head a little bit. That’s nice :D

• LOGAN’S A DORK, I LOVE HIM

• IF ALESSIO ENDS UP BEING FIRST BOOT YOU WILL SEE ME ON THE NEWS

Edit: god fucking damnit

• Also him observing a snail, only to crush it to see the color it creates is a mood. Everyone backing away from him afterwards is also funny as hell lol

• “Hi there! I’m Isabel. Nice to meet you :D” “Okay, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s a nun doing out here?” Ted said what the fandom was thinking when the cast photo dropped lmao

• Also their dynamic is already amazing. “His words won’t help us here, sister” is genuinely one of my favourite quotes from this episode

• Oooooo more looks into the contestants personal lives. I dig it >:D

• Idk why, but Richard fainting as blue team arrived to their campground was kinda hilarious to me

• ANARISSA INTERACTION WHO CHEERED

• “Military?” “Hopefully. You?” “Farthest from it. Model.” “Obviously. You’re very pretty.” I NEED TO BE SEDATED BRO

• “Whenever someone tells me not to do something, it means they’re usually keeping it for themselves.” Hard cut to Ted taking an L after ignoring Marissa’s warning

• Logan’s so pure omg. His bond with Richard’s rlly cute and I know damn well the fandom (myself included) is gonna BAWL when one of them ends up getting eliminated

• NATALIA’S SO STRONG WTF. QUEEN SHIT

• “I’ve noticed our team has more women than men.” “Ugh, thank god right?” mood

• Damn we already got alliances? This totally won’t backfire :>

• Lynda your family’s ugly lmao. Also she’s probably gonna be a villain

• “Where’s the italian fellow?” Nintendo whenever they need money

• Logan worrying that Alessio ditched them to look for the totem, only for it to cut to Alessio painting smth is such a funny cutaway

• “The early bonding doesn’t concern me. The deconstruction of civilization… hahahaho! Now that’s something that can be put to a canvas!” HE’S JUST LIKE ME FRFR

• HANNAH’S BEING BEST GIRL AS ALWAYS I LOVE HER

• Also there’s something really nice about Amelie casually implementing some french words into her dialogue. I think its really neat, and as someone that did take french, I’m able to understand most of it :D

• I’ve seen some people ship Hannah & Benji together, and although I do see where they’re coming from since they’re both asian, I honestly just see them as friends. TRISTANNAH ALL THE WAY BABYYYYYY

• “I’m all about giving good head.” BENJI-

• I GENUINELY WAS NOT EXPECTING HIM TO SAY THAT OH MY GOD HE’S SUCH A BOYFAILURE I LOVE HIM

• DIEGO HELPING OUT SPENCER AFTER THE BEAM FELL ON HIM, AND ASKING IF HE’S OKAY? OMG THE SHIPPING CRUMBS

• ZAIVY CRUMBS LETS GO

• TRISTAN, ZAID, & IVY ARE GONNA BE AN ICONIC TRIO I CAN SEE IT FROM A MILE AWAY. Also them talking about designing the shelter was really nice :D

• “Ooh! Quite the mind reader, isn’t he?” “Oh, thanks! Though… I’m actually non-binary” THEY SAID IT. IT’S FULLY CONFIRMED AND STATED IN THE SHOW LETS GOOOOOO

• AND THE SCENE IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING WHERE IVY EDUCATING ZAID ABOUT THE TERM AND HIM BEING CHILL ABOUT IT? OH MY GOD THIS SCENE IS LITERALLY EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED AS A NON-BINARY PERSON

• Ivy’s confessional following this and her backstory’s honestly my favourite so far. She’s definitely a parallel to Riya since she doesn’t want the game (or hollywood for that matter) to change who she was. We all know that the same didn’t happen with Riya anyways

• “The industry is so competitive and nasty, it’s easy to look over the genuine people in your life” I immediately thought of Riya when I first saw this scene considering what happened between her, most of the friends she made during DC, and ESPECIALLY Connor

• IVY’S A THEATRE KID I LOVE HER. Also she joined to prove she can do stuff without her parents help is honestly some great motivation imo

• HANNAHHHHHHH

• Also Amelie slays so hard. Her design’s really growing on me

• ONE OF THE RATINGS FOR AMELIE’S COMPANY SAYS “INSTANT CHOICE EVERYTIME I GET MARRIED” LMAOOOOO

• Alessio getting distracted by a butterfly is mood (said butterfly gave me kirby & qsmp flashbacks, but that’s not important rn)

• I was not expecting Natalia & Isabel to have a friendship even before the trailers & the intro dropped, BUT I LOVE IT SMMMM

• Ted takes an L part 2: electric boogaloo

• Diego wants Spencer so bad. DID YOU HAVE TO RAISE AN EYEBROW BRO? JADE KNOWS WHERE THIS IS GOING BY THAT SMUG LOOK ON HER FACE

• BENJI HOW DID YOU LIGHT YOUR ASS ON FIRE LMAOOOOO

• TREVEK CAME ONTO SCREEN HOLDING HANDS I LOVE THEM

• Emily :D

• “She’s so mother!” “Oh, wow! I didn’t know she was your mom!” THIS EPISODE HAD SO MANY FUNNY QUOTES I LOVE IT

• Aw, Trevor & Emily’s friendship’s healing :D

• Emily looks like she didn’t sign up for this shit lmao

• “I just thought it could use a theme!” “The theme being?” “Building new families” TRISTAN ILY

• How the fuck does Tristan sleep criss-cross applesauce

• “Why don’t you lay off, housewife?” DAMNNNNNN

• THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTINGGGGGGGGGG

• I just realized the guy promoting the patreon and reminding the viewer to subscribe is Connor’s VA lol

• “Over here we have the Demansplainer!” “Kind of a dumb name…” “Why do you think it’s abandoned?” lmao

• WAIT TREVEK’S DEMONSTRATING THE CHALLENGE TOGETHER? THATS AWESOME

• ALSO DEREK HOLDING ONTO TREVOR, AND TREVOR GETTING WORRIED FOR DEREK AFTER NOTICING HE LOOKS LIKE HES GONNA THROW UP WAS ADORABLE

• “Can I hold onto you?” “Can you—? What? The coaster’s already holding you!” “Please?” “…Fine.” AWWWWWWW

• Isabel praying the our father while the coaster’s rising is a mood and honestly relatable for people with a fear of roller coasters

• “Woohoo! Yeah! Who’s hyped?” HANNAH IS SUCH A RAY OF SUNSHINE AND I LOVE HER FOR THAT. ALSO LOOK AT HOW TRISTAN’S LOOKING AT HER WITH A SMILE ON THEIR FACE

• Richard forgor lol. Also Alessio just casually lounging like a bored student is a mood. I KNOW I KEEP BRINGING THAT WORD UP WHENEVER I TALK ABOUT ALESSIO, BUT HE’S LITERALLY VIBING BRO. I LOVE HIM

• Also animation’s been kicked up a notch compared to older seasons. All those greetings really paid well! Especially the double ones considering most of them have TomJake kissing lol

• DIENCER’S HOLDING HANDS ON THEIR WAY DOWN THE COASTER

• I love how Anastasia & Alessio are completely unphased by the roller coaster drop lol

• “Thanks to Crocoidile Dundee, I couldn’t see the godamn flags. NOT TO MENTION HE RUINED MY VEST!” LMAO

• Everyone mostly struggling with the flag order reminds me of the All Stars challenge where literally everyone besides Grett (And technically Jake & Ally since they were fighting each other instead of doing the challenge lol) were struggling with a fuckass 9-piece puzzle lmao

• Spencer over here thinking he’s a smartass and taking an L for the team lol

• Zaid & Ivy heading back onto the ride, this counts as Zaivy crumbs trust me bro

• Damn red team wins twice in a row? Noice. Also If ya want my opinion on which team I like the most, I honestly think they’re BOTH great since red team has Tristan & Hannah (they share the title of being my favourite contestants for this season), and blue team has Isabel, Natalia, & Alessio (they’re all close seconds) also they have pink n’ green yuri

• THE POSE DIEGO MAKES ON HIS SLEEPING BAG???

• ALSO FIRST TRISTANNAH INTERACTION LETS FUCKING GOOOO

• Jade & Spencer alliance pog. Diego’s probably gonna join in, and this alliance’ll end up in shambles or is gonna prosper, AND I’M ALL HERE FOR IT >:D

• ANARISSA SITTING TOGETHER >:D ALSO ANASTASIA TRYING TO LOOK COOL INFRONT OF MARISSA. GIRL I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE

• “Even if I dedicate my life to the Lord, I dedicate my body to the algorithm” God tier quote tbh

• “Oh! No…. My parents aren’t catholic” PLOT TWIST

• Seeing all the teams huddled around each other as they read the letter reminded me that A) both teams are equally great in my opinion, and B) I LOVE ALL OF THESE CHARACTERS, I DON’T WANNA SEE ANY OF THEM GET ELIMINATED WHAT THE FUCK-

• “I nominate Isabel!” “Why her?” “Bitch, look at her! She’s our team’s Mother Theresa” NATALIA ILY

• “Yass! Feed the children” THERE ARE SO MUCH GREAT QUOTES FROM THIS EPISODE

• “Go down the path together to a private booth. You’re both about to make a major decision” THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN. AND THE FUCK IS THE PERSON/THING IN THE TREE

• “After everything, people are probably still thinking, ‘What’s a nun doing here? How is she gonna lie or backstab anyone?’ Well I’m here to win a million dollars! And when it’s all over… I’ll pray for forgiveness” SLAYYYYY

• WAIT THAT’S IT? IM NOT EVEN UPSET, ISABEL’S CONFESSION WAS HONESTLY A GREAT WAY TO END THE EPISODE

• ANYWAYS YEA. THIS IS GONNA BE A GREAT SEASON, AND I’M NOT JUST SAYING THAT BECAUSE OF TRISTAN & HANNAH SLAYING, AND ALL THE SHIPPING CONTENT

#disventure camp

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