#he’s so desperate for his hat . that’s the most important thing to him . the way he holds onto it after he grabs onto it

[rrandomtthings]

I don’t think we’ve talked ab how good Iñaki Godoy is as Luffy enough yet

[zomb-core]

۫ ꣑ৎ A TRIM || carl grimes x female reader

summary: carl refused to let anyone near his hair after losing his mom, but when he desperately needs a trim he goes to the person he trusts most, you.

(intended lowercase)

warnings: mentions of losing a parent.

pure fluff

“a trim, got it?”

carl twisted around in the chair he was sitting on to face you, you could tell he was nervous and you understood why. he hadn't cut his hair since he was 13, lori used to give him haircuts and he couldn't bring himself to let anyone else do it after she died, until now.

you currently stood behind him, a pair of shears held in your dominant hand while your other held a comb and spray bottle. “yes, a trim, I got it. now, are you gonna sit still and let me start?” you teased, a brief laugh passing your lips.

he nodded, removing the bandage from around his face and setting it on the counter next to his hat. “yeah, just please be careful—”

“carl.” you interrupted, making eye contact with him through the mirror, taking in his worried expression. “I know how important your hair is to you and I will be very careful, I just need you to trust me.”

he caught his lip between his teeth before giving you a curt nod and straightening his posture. “okay.”

you gave him a reassuring smile followed by a gentle kiss to the top of his head before starting. you grabbed a section of his hair, spraying it with the water until it was drenched, repeating this until his hair was thoroughly soaked. you didn't have a lot of experience with cutting hair and you were beyond nervous, but when he came to you and asked you if you would give him a trim you didn't have the heart to tell him no.

you took a deep breath before grabbing a decent portion of hair, bringing the comb to it and running it through it, stopping about an inch from the bottom, holding it up so carl could see it, “how's that?”

“that's fine.” he concluded after a few moments of staring at it, closing his eyes tightly when you brought the scissors up to his hair.

you hesitated. you knew how important this was to him, when he told you stories about his mom your heart would ache for him, and his hair was one of the only things left he could relate to her besides judith and messing this up would break his heart.

the sound of the scissors snipping the hair caused you both to flinch, you watching the hair fall to the tiled floor.

you exchanged a glance with him to make sure he was still comfortable, and you continued, copying your previous cut over and over again until you had chopped roughly the same length of hair off of every section.

the bathroom was completely silent minus the sound of the scissors and you shuffling around, neither of you could bring yourselves to speak, both too focused on your movements to say anything.

eventually, you finished the larger part of his hair and all that was left was his bangs. you walked around so you could be face to face with him, examining the way his bangs framed his face. “okay..” you mumbled, grabbing the larger portion of his bangs between your index and middle finger using them as a guide and you worked on his fringe while trying to avoid getting any hair in the open wound on his face. once you were satisfied with how that side looked, you moved onto the other side, making a few quick snips before setting the scissors down and stepping back to admire your work.

“what do you think? did I do okay?”

he stood up, leaning closer to the mirror to examine his hair as you watched him anxiously, awaiting his reaction. you rocked back and forth on your heel, your hands interlaced behind your back, “carl?” you tried, becoming extremely paranoid that you had messed up, but your worry was quickly brought to an end when he wrapped his arms around you.

“it looks great, thank you.”

your worried expression was replaced by a geeky smile, and you returned his hug, giving him a tight squeeze. “oh thank god, I was so worried.” you laughed, pressing a kiss to the bridge of his nose,

“thank you, by the way.” he looked confused at your statement, tilting his head to the side slightly, “for what?”

“for trusting me, I know that this was hard for you and i’m glad you trusted me of all people.”

he ducked his head down and nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, smiling against the exposed skin, “i’m glad I did, too.”

masterlist

[primofate]

You are the embodiment of fairness...

is what Neuvillette believes. There is not a single hair on your body that is selfish. Not a single thought in your mind that strays into evil thoughts.

The Chief Justice is just as fair, just as sensible. Though on you, he stays his gaze for a moment longer. Allows the slightest tug upward of his lips as you discuss the latest trial with him. The difference between the two of you? He doesn't think that he is as "well-behaved" as you are. There have definitely been times where he had thought to abandon his gentlemanly and prestigious image, just to lean in and brush his fingers on your cheek. Thankfully, so far, he hasn't done so, even though the two of you had decided to enter a romantic relationship.

The Chief Justice was very guarded, but so were you. The two of you were never seen together, only in the privacy of his home or yours did the two of you enjoy each other's company. Perhaps only his most trusted Melusines knew. Professionalism was important.

"I hope the next trial resolves to your liking, Neuvillette," you smile knowing what his answer would be.

"It isn't my thoughts that are important, Y/N-" he starts and he finishes his sentence at the same time as you chide in with him.

"It's the evidence. I know, I know,"

You bid him goodbye rather curtly, not even a kiss, just a brief pat on the arm. It's working hours, and it's not the time to do such a thing.

Working hours.

As the Chief Justice sat in court, trial in session, he locks eyes with you, the accused. He recognizes the confusion in your eyes as genuine, the hidden panic behind clear as day.

"Neuvil--Your honour," You catch yourself, voice trembling a little. "This is a mistake, it wasn't me,"

and yet all the evidence points to you. Photographs, witness accounts, the hat that you'd left behind in the crime scene. No matter which way you look, the answer was you.

"Guilty," was all he could muster, when he usually said more. His hand looked for the oratrice, hoping that the machine would give him something different, but he already knew it in his heart.

"According to the judgement of the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale, the accused, L/N Y/N is..."

One second.

Two.

Three seconds.

Four.

The crowd started to bristle a little.

At five he opened his mouth, and closed it again, gritting his teeth in secret.

At six, he repeated his own words. "Guilty,"

Cheers erupted from the audience, he could not bring himself to look at your face, though he heard you loud and clear.

"No! NO! This is a mistake! I didn't kill anyone!" Your hysterics were comparable to a mother who had lost her child. To a hardworking man watching his hard earned house burn down.

"NEUVILLETTE PLEASE!"

The Gardes struggled, just as they always did, but you pushed forward, unable to understand nor accept what happened. At that moment you had not noticed the tears of desperation running down your cheeks.

You were going to that underwater prison forever. Dark and alone. What if the sea swallowed you? Or worse, what if the silence swallowed you? All by yourself hundreds of feet below, drowning was such an easy possibility.

Neuvillette almost grimaces, but keeps his face hard as stone. There are a thousand things running in his mind...but the Oratrice was absolute, and so was its verdict.

"Bring the accused to The Fortress of Meropide,"

The wails you let out haunted him, more than any other trial had.

Author's Note: Hello! This is just a quick update, literally wrote it in 30 minutes so excuse any pronoun slips or mistakes! I just wanted to let everyone know I am great and still playing Genshin! Just a quick reminder that The Ruthless Prince is still available on Amazon in paperback and all my previous works are still accessible in my Masterlist!

Do let me know what you think of this one though, and if you think I should turn it into a full fic!

[innerfare]

Ace’s Type

Summary: A collection of random headcanons describing Ace's type

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

Someone who knows what it's like to be a freak, to be cast out from society. (I'm imagining him with a girl from Skypiea with cute little wings, maybe even antennae, who was treated much like a mermaid and hunted for her unusual appearance and was maybe rescued by Ace; might need to write a fic about this.)

Due to a childhood crush on a certain barmaid, low-key has a thing for green-haired women. It isn’t essential, but if a woman has green hair, she possesses a unique ability to turn him into a blushing mess, which he finds annoying considering he so quickly grew accustomed to turning them into blushing messes. Will fight anyone who teases him about his green hair weakness as it’s actually something of a sensitive topic for him. (Even had the slightest crush on Zoro when he met the Straw Hats for the first time, wouldn't have initiated anything with the swordsman but wouldn't have turned him down, either.) 

The most important thing for Ace is freedom, would have to be with someone who values it just as highly as he does (not just for him, but for themselves, too). Could easily be a one girl kind of guy (trust issues, wants something constant, steady, and dependable) but doesn’t want to settle down with that person. Rather, wants that person to run around the world with him. If you want to stay home and wait for him to come back, fine, but he'd prefer you go with him.

Someone who has a way with words. He doesn’t, so he’d think of your ability to put words to thoughts and feelings he’s had his entire life as some form of magic. 

Someone who thinks he hung the moon. He won’t understand why you think that, but your starry-eyed devotion to him will awaken something in him. Someone who giggles at his dumb jokes, who stands in awe and says, “whoah, cool,” when he shows off a new move, who lights up when he enters the room. Someone who thinks it’s cute when he swoops in and steals food off their plate, who will playfully punch his arm, someone who laughs when he throws them over his shoulder. Someone with a youthful energy.

But the youthful energy can't veer into immaturity. He wants and needs someone wise beyond their years, maybe even an old soul, someone who counsels him against acting rashly without nagging him to stop taking risks entirely. Someone who understands he's a risk taker and has measured criticism of that rather than a complete opposition to it.

Someone who understands that he struggles with emotional vulnerability and will meet him where he is. Also, someone who applauds him when he does put himself out there, someone who will never judge him for his feelings or reject his attempts at connecting. Someone who has very high emotional intelligence. 

He secretly, desperately craves the softness he never got in his childhood. Being cradled as he sleeps, having his hair brushed off his forehead, having food prepared and served for him, someone fussing over his little scrapes and cuts, etcetera.

Sweet. Wants someone who smiles/lights up when they see him, who says please and thank you for every little thing. Someone with very good manners and a singsong voice like Makino. Someone tough enough to negotiate for and take up space aboard a pirate ship, but without being callous and cold. Someone soft and warm, who doesn’t let the ugliness of the world get under their skin and is optimistic about the future- not just their own future, but his future, too. 

Someone very observant. He has a lot of trauma and baggage that he never talks about, and he would fall head over heels for someone who can read between the lines. 

That being said, someone on the quieter side. Doesn’t want to be constantly asked if he’s okay, but wants someone who will notice he’s not and find a way to help him through it. 

Finally, someone who gets flustered when he flirts with them. He takes great pride in his ability to make you blush. If you're the type with cheeks that flush pink, even better.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[to-thelakes]

like momma (dad!carmy x reader)

prompt; day eight, 'autumn leaves'

content warning(s); pre-established relationship, major fluff, reader has a kid with carmy (called charlotte)

summary; your daughter, charlotte, desperately wants a pretty leaf to display in her room.

word count; 683

promptober masterlist

the wonderful sonia ( @notsonian ) and her dad!carmy fics (i love them sm) inspired this little work, but i really just wanted a cute little fluff of carmy and his little girl hence this :) i love them ur honour (also this is very unedited, it's bedtime for ruby)

You weren’t sure how you ended up on a walk with Carmy and Charlotte but when Charlotte had run up to you already tucked up in her winter jacket with a grin on her little face, you couldn’t deny going for an autumn walk with them.

Carmy had made a comment that morning - at breakfast - about the autumn leaves coming out and Charlotte had decided it was her mission to get one to display in her bedroom. You were never going to stamp out her curiosity and Carmy was nothing if not an enabler of your daughter’s antics.

So, as she ran around the park deciding what leaf would be the best to display, you were sitting on a bench a little away. You were watching Carmy as he herded her around and every time she held up a leaf, he gave his opinion like it was the most important thing in the world.

There was a child-like nature to how he acted in moments like this. The sparkle in his eye and the grin on his lips when he looked at your daughter made your heart swell. You loved seeing him so happy.

And when Charlotte ran up to him with a deep red leaf, exclaiming that ‘it like mamma’s car’ he was nodding along and holding it up in the late afternoon sun. He inspected it before nodding, agreeing with her.

Charlotte had Carmy’s eyes and when they both looked at you, you felt like you were seeing double. Even though Charlotte had got most of her features from you, her eyes were so distinct that you sometimes had to take a moment. Charlotte was then running up to you with her leaf in hand and climbing up onto the bench to sit herself in your lap. She held the leaf up in your face.

“Look momma,” She said as she waved it in front of you. Carmy sat down beside you.

“Think this will look good in your room, Honey?” Carmy asked Charlotte as she settled in your lap. She stared at the leaf and tilted her head before she nodded her head, turning to look up at you.

“Do you like it?” She asked. You nodded your head and wrapped an arm around her to tug her into you.

“I think it’s very pretty, Lottie. But do you like it? You can pick any leaf, don’t just have to pick this one because it reminds you of mommy,” You responded, brushing her hair out of her face as you looked into her eyes. Charlotte took a moment, staring at the leaf before she looked at you.

“No, I want it,” She said firmly. You nodded and pulled the hat down on her head. Her nose was running but before you could pull a tissue out, Carmy was already lifting Lottie’s chin up and gently wiping the snot away with a tissue of his own.

“Just wiping away the snot from your nose, Honey. Better?” He asked as he pulled the tissue away. He bundled it up and put it in his pocket to discard when you all got home. Charlotte nodded.

“Can I play for a bit longer?” Charlotte asked, looking between the two of you. You nodded.

“Course you can, baby,” You responded, pressing a kiss to her hatted head. Charlotte grinned and slipped off your lap to the floor. She then rushed off into the leaves while you and Carmy stayed at the bench. You couldn’t help the grin on her face as she bounded around, throwing leaves up into the air around her. She seemed so happy and that’s all you had ever wanted.

“You cold?” Carmy asked. You nodded, unable to help the redness of your nose and the way you were shivering a little. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his side, “Can’t have momma be cold, come here,” He insisted. You sighed and rested your head against his side. With a soft sigh, you curled into his side a little, sharing his body heat and you felt content.

[romerona]

All Y/N ever wanted to do was sing her songs and be free. Yet somehow, after offering to pay for the meal of a certain boy in a straw hat she finds herself causing havoc through the East Blue.

Masterlist - Next.

Trigger warning: canon violence. Word count: 10K

A/N: The only thing I will be describing about Y/N is her hair colour. Everything else you can imagine her as you wish.

Disclaimer: The songs I will be using in this fic aren't mine bc I have 0 creativity. I'm sorry.

If you want to know, what the melody of this chapter song is like, The River by Daisy Jones and the Six is the inspiration.

"Hit the deck!"

Y/N barely had a moment to brace herself before the thunderous explosion erupted across the deck of the Going Merry. The cannonball struck with a force that rattled her bones, the shockwave sending her sprawling as she dropped to the floor, clutching her head. The wood of the railing splintered and cracked under the impact, filling the air with the sharp scent of burning timber and saltwater. Pieces of the ship’s railing exploded outward, shards of wood spinning through the air like deadly projectiles. She flinched as one of the splinters sliced across her cheek, leaving a warm trickle of blood in its wake.

Disoriented, she felt the world tilt and sway as the ship rocked from the blast, and she struggled to get her bearings. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up on trembling legs.

"Everybody okay?" Luffy asked, his voice carrying over the chaos, unshaken by the cannon fire.

"I think so," Nami replied, her breath coming out a bit shaky.

Y/N wiped the blood from her cheek. "Define ‘okay.’ If it means mildly traumatized but still standing, then yeah, I'm peachy."

Usopp, on the other hand, looked like he’d just seen his life flash before his eyes. "No! Not okay! Not even close to okay!"

Luffy barely glanced at him before turning to the Marine ship in the distance, his finger pointing toward the enemy vessel with a gleam in his eye. "Usopp, fire back at them!"

Usopp’s eyes widened in horror, and he shook his head, his voice pitching. "Or, how about we sail away as fast as we can?"

Y/N nodded, jumping on Usopp’s idea immediately, "Now, that sounds like a solid plan. Strategic retreat, y’know? Let’s live to panic another day!"

Luffy looked between them, clearly baffled like they’d just suggested something completely outlandish. "Run from the Marines? No. Never! Nami, trim the… the sail thing."

"Let’s sink their ship," Luffy told Ussop who had made his way next to the straw hat boy, and both started to prepare the cannon.

Y/N's eyes widened, and she shot a desperate glance at Nami. “Are you hearing this insanity? Oh, shi- look at them!”

Nami spared her a look, it was obvious her patience was wearing thin as she glared at Luffy. "We don’t have time. They’re stealing our wind. If they pull up alongside us, we’re finished."

"You’re the navigator," Luffy said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, while he and Usopp continued their preparations. "Do something."

Nami, fighting to keep her composure, took a deep breath. Her eyes flashed to Zoro and then to Y/N, as if by instinct, as she ordained, "Sheet in and hard to port!"

Y/N, groaning in defeat, moved toward the ropes. “Fantastic. Nothing like outrunning doom while trying not to strangle myself with these ropes.”

"Which way is port?" Zoro asked, his brow furrowed in confusion, making Y/N stop in her tracks and give him a look that could melt steel.

She nearly burst into tears right then and there.

“It’s on your left, Zoro!” she exclaimed, grabbing his arm and hauling him toward the ropes. “You do know left from right… don’t you? Is important to me that you know that.”

Zoro didn’t even bother to answer, letting Y/N pull him along as they hurried to execute Nami’s orders. But before they could even begin to unravel the ropes, the unmistakable sound of cannonballs rolling across the deck made them freeze.

For a beat, Y/N just stared at the incoming cannonballs as they tumbled to her feet. Her mind was blank and her gut twisting into knots. Then she pursed her lips, nodding slowly. "We're fucked."

Suddenly, a deep, booming voice of the vice admiral rang out across the open sea, slicing through the chaos like a hot knife through butter.

"Pirate vessel, by order of the Marines, lower your sails and submit to my authority."

Y/N’s body froze at the sound of the vice admiral’s booming voice. It pierced the chaos around her, and for a brief, suffocating moment, everything else disappeared. Her heart skipped a beat as a familiar, overwhelming sense of dread flooded her chest. Her breath caught, shallow and rapid, as memories—unbidden and sharp—began to surface like a nightmare she couldn’t outrun.

Flashes of her childhood flooded her vision: Marines with their cold faces set in determination as they hunted down her people. The cries of her father, the way he had fought to protect her, only to be torn away. Her small hands, gripped her father’s as they fled, knowing too well that escape was never truly an option. She could still feel the harsh net, still hear their voices—shouting commands, laughing as they dragged her father to his death. Her father... she could almost feel the warmth of his hand slipping from hers as he pleaded for her to take her sister and swim away.

A chill ran down her spine, and Y/N’s vision began to blur, the salty air thick in her lungs. The tightness in her chest grew, each breath more difficult to take. Her hands trembled, and she felt like she was back there, trapped in that terrified little girl’s body again, powerless and afraid. Her body was screaming at her to flee, to jump off the ship and swim far away, away from the threat of the Marines. But that was the panic talking. That was the fear, the survivor’s instinct, clawing at her.

No. Don’t be that scared child again. You’re not her anymore.

But the weight of the vice admiral’s words felt suffocating, like a trap closing in around her. The fear was real, deep-rooted, and it pressed against her chest like an iron band. Her mind screamed at her to run, to escape, but her body refused to obey. She wasn’t sure if it was fear or the crushing weight of the past that kept her frozen in place. All she could do was fight the urge to break down, to fall apart right then and there. The panic, the memories—they were all crashing into her at once, and there was nothing she could do to push them away.

Every muscle in her body tensed, her throat constricted, and all she could do was cling to the edge of the ship until the loud shout of Luffy broke her haze.

"Never!" His voice carried across the water with unmatched conviction and defiance.

From the Marine vessel, the vice admiral stepped forward with surprising agility for his age, his steely eyes narrowing as he grabbed one of the heavy cannonballs.

With a grunt that could’ve been heard a mile away, the old marine hurled the cannonball with a surprising amount of strength, sending it rocketing through the air toward the Going Merry. The cannonball cut through the wind, heading straight for them with deadly accuracy. For a moment, Y/N froze, watching the projectile fly toward them, her heart in her throat. This is it, she thought. I'm dead.

But before she could even fully process it, Luffy, with a sudden lurch, made his stomach expand to ridiculous proportions, ballooning out until he looked like he was going to burst. The cannonball collided with his belly with a dull thud, bouncing harmlessly off him before it ricocheted off Luffy’s rubbery body and hurtled back toward the Marine ship. Y/N’s eyes widened as it made its way back to them, and with a sickening crash, it collided directly with one of the mastiffs on the Marine ship, knocking it down with a loud crash.

For a moment, Y/N could only blink, stunned into silence. Then, she exhaled slowly, her breath coming out in a soft whoosh. “How the hell...?”

"That was amazing!" Usopp exclaimed, his face lighting up with awe. "You saved us, Luffy!"

Nami, still catching her breath, gave Luffy an incredulous look. "You didn’t tell me you could do that,"

"I didn’t know I could!" Luffy admitted, right before Usopp lunged at him, wrapping him in a hug laughing and bouncing around in a strange mix of relief and victory.

“Good going, Stud!” Y/N let out an airy chuckle, the sound of it light and almost free as she finally allowed the tension to slip away, watching them celebrate their unlikely victory. She leaned against the railing, her body trembling ever so slightly as she realized how close she’d been to falling apart. The adrenaline was wearing off, and she could feel her legs threaten to give way beneath her. She closed her eyes, pressing her palms against the cool wood, taking a slow, steadying breath, taking in the scent of the sea.

“Nami, get us out of here!” Luffy called to Nami.

“On it. Let’s disappear,” Nami replied, her voice laced with determination as she took control, hands steady on the wheel.

With a swift pull, she guided the Going Merry into position, adjusting the sails to catch what little wind they had left. The ship surged forward, slicing through the waves as if it were as eager to escape as they were and headed into a misty, thick and impenetrable cloud, like a veil hiding them from the Marines.

“Hey,” came Zoro’s monotone voice, causing Y/N to flinch just a little. It was subtle, but she couldn’t hide the sharp jolt in her chest. Embarrassed, she quickly masked her discomfort, forcing a wide, confident smile as if nothing was wrong.

“Oh, Zoro, hey,” she said, her voice smooth but her heart still racing slightly.

Zoro’s eyes remained as indifferent as ever, but they narrowed just a fraction, the skepticism in them barely perceptible.

“You good?” he asked, his tone flat, but there was a hint of concern buried beneath the surface.

Y/N froze for a moment, caught off guard by his directness. She flashed him a playful smirk, hoping to deflect without showing any sign of vulnerability. “Worried about little ol’ me, hot shot? Didn’t think you had a sweet side."

Zoro’s expression didn’t change, but whatever trace of concern had been there moments ago was now gone. Y/N, half-expecting him to leave her be—because, honestly, he wasn’t exactly known for his warm and fuzzy bedside manner—thought her flippant attitude would have been enough to successfully send him packing. Yet, to her surprise (and slight dismay), he stayed. He simply crossed his arms and stared at her with that unreadable intensity.

Y/N’s smirk faltered, the confidence she wore like armor wavering under the weight of his unrelenting stare. There was something unnerving about how much attention he was paying to her but refused to let it show fully. Instead, she waved a hand dismissively, her voice light and playful. “Do not fret, it’s just a scratch. My face will be back to its former glory in no time.”

Zoro didn’t even blink. “That’s not what I’m talking about,”

But Y/N did—several times, rapid and involuntary, her mind faltering as his words struck a nerve she wasn’t ready to face. The tightness in her chest flared again, and she fought to push away the remnants of panic still twisting in her gut. It was relentless, simmering just beneath the surface, refusing to let go. The memories clawed at her mind—the sight of those Marines, the booming voice of authority—it all came rushing back too fast, too vividly, too... loud.

Her smirk faltered, morphing into something softer, a practised smile. She had perfected this act over the years. No one could know. No one could see how much of her was still haunted, how much of her was a cracked foundation barely held together by sheer will.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Zoro,” she said lightly, tilting her head just enough to feign nonchalance. “I’m fine. Really.”

And without waiting for an answer or even a flicker of something that could resemble an expression, she manoeuvred around him. Her smile remained firmly in place, but her pace quickened as she walked away, leaving Zoro standing there. She made her way to Nami, positioning herself beside her as though nothing had happened, knowing the proximity to the pretty navigator would steady her fraying nerves. Like her steady rock.

Soon, the Going Merry was swallowed by the dense mist, the fog thick and impenetrable, wrapping around them like a heavy shroud. The usual brightness of the open sea was replaced by an eerie stillness, the world around them muffled and grey. No one could see more than a few feet in any direction.

"How’s the ship look?" Nami asked, her voice cutting through the silence when she saw the swordsman return from checking the damage.

"Broken railing. Minor damage," Zoro said as she set herself next to her.

Y/N hums in encorgament. "Could've been worse."

"Could’ve been better," Nami muttered, her tone sour.

Usopp squinted into the dense fog, searching for any sign of the Marines. "Can’t see the Marines anywhere,"

Y/N glanced over the side of the ship, also squinting into the dense fog. "Can't see anything at all, I think you mean."

"What we need is a place to lay low and wait out any reinforcements they send after us," Nami said, her voice already tinged with frustration as she glanced down at the map in her hands. "But my charts are useless in this fog."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her tone dry. "Great. So we’re basically sailing blind."

"What did Luffy say?" Zoro wondered aloud.

Usopp, squinting through the fog, replied, "He’s on the bow. He hasn’t said anything since we hightailed it out of there."

"Well, somebody needs to talk to him. About this and that other thing." Nami’s voice was laced with frustration as she turned to the others, clearly not thrilled with the situation.

"What other thing?" Zoro asked, confusion flickering across his face.

Y/N shot him a look—a mix of disbelief and exasperation, her expression practically screaming "Seriously?" She wondered how could someone be so perceptive and yet be as oblivious as a plank. For a fleeting moment, she even wondered if his cluelessness was some sort of elaborate act.

"Oh, gee, I wonder," Nami replied, her voice thick with dry sarcasm before she deadpanned. "The vice-admiral-of-the-Marines-is-my-grandfather thing."

Y/N pursed her lips, a mixture of emotions swirling inside her—understanding, skepticism, fear, and anger. The fear and anger tried to take root, but ultimately, understanding won out, its shadow softening the rest.

"Oh, that," Usopp said, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Yeah, I don’t really know the guy that well…"

Y/N sighed, crossing her arms as she turned to Nami. "And let’s think that maybe there’s a reason why he didn’t tell us," she said, her voice measured, though the tension behind it was undeniable.

Nami shot her a look, her eyes narrowing in a way that could only mean she wasn’t buying it. "But he should’ve. This is something that affects all of us."

Zoro grunted, rolling his eyes. "Doesn’t seem like a big deal."

"You’re his first mate," Nami shot back, rolling her eyes. "Kind of seems like that falls under your job description, hmm?"

"Fine," he muttered, clearly not thrilled about it.

It took all of five seconds—barely enough time to blink—before he turned right back around and rejoined them. Y/N raised a brow, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. Now this was the Zoro she knew—the one who avoided digging deeper into anything if it required more than minimal effort. The other unsettling attentive version of him she’d dealt with earlier? Long gone.

“He seems fine to me,” Zoro said flatly, as though that was the final word on the matter.

"Did you even ask him?" Nami asks in exasperation.

“Hey!” Luffy suddenly called out, his voice cutting through their conversation and pulling everyone’s attention to him. The group turned to see him standing at the bow, sniffing the air like a bloodhound on a trail. His face was unusually focused, which immediately made Y/N sceptical. “You guys smell that?”

Y/N’s curiosity got the better of her. She hesitated, then took a subtle sniff, her brows knitting together when she couldn’t pick up anything out of the ordinary. “Smell what?

“There’s something on the breeze,” Luffy said, his voice uncharacteristically serious as he sniffed again. “Smells like… butter... Soy sauce... And meat.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, sharing a look with the others, searching for a second opinion. “That’s… oddly specific,”

Usopp, still looking around in confusion, squinted at the air. "I can’t smell anything,"

"Think he has brain damage?" Zoro muttered under his breath, watching Luffy sniff the air like a hound on a scent trail.

Nami sighed heavily, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "I think that every day."

Usopp, ever the voice of reason- or what passed for it to everyone else- said. "Look, Luffy, playing follow the smell is fun and all, but we really gotta get out of this fog. We’re sitting ducks in here."

"I know, but I smell food, which means there’s someone somewhere cooking!" Luffy reasoned, as if that simple fact somehow made perfect sense to him. He was grinning ear-to-ear, oblivious to the crew's growing frustration.

“Seriously?” Nami groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose before throwing her hands up in defeat. “Of course it’s about food.”

Y/N pursed her lips, her gaze shifting between the thick fog and Luffy’s eager, determined expression. She let out a small sigh and turned to Nami with a shrug. “Hey, it’s better than wandering aimlessly, right? At least his nose has a purpose.”

Nami muttered something under her breath about “purposefully leading us into trouble” but threw her hands up as she headed back to the helm. “Fine, whatever- just tell me where to go."

"Five degrees starboard!" Luffy shouted confidently, settling himself on the lamb’s head like it was some kind of throne. He sniffed the air once more, brow furrowing. "No! No! Three degrees back to port."

"Add food to the equation and suddenly he knows how to navigate."

Y/N, who had been bored staring into the mist, suddenly perked up as she caught sight of something faint, something slowly beginning to take shape. She squinted, her curiosity piqued. "What is that?"

“Add food to the equation, and suddenly he knows how to navigate,” Nami muttered under his breath, earning a soft chuckle from Y/N.

Y/N, who had been idly staring into the mist with growing boredom, suddenly straightened as her eyes caught sight of something faint—something slowly taking shape ahead of them. She squinted, her curiosity sparking. “What is that?”

“Is that land?” Zoro asked, his voice tinged with skepticism as he strained to make out the blurry outline in the distance.

Nami frowned, her brow furrowing in concentration. “It can’t be. There aren’t any islands anywhere near here.”

“What’s a… Baratie?” Usopp asked, his voice a mix of confusion and awe as he read the glowing red letters that seemed to hover like a lighthouse through the mist.

The crew fell silent as the shape came into sharper focus, the mist parting just enough to reveal something massive—a grand, almost otherworldly ship. Its design was like nothing they’d ever seen, whimsical and imposing all at once.

“Is that… a fish boat?” Y/N murmured, her eyes widening as she took in the strange structure. It wasn’t just a ship; it was a spectacle.

The ship continued to take shape, now unmistakably resembling a gigantic wooden fish, complete with intricately carved fins and a tail that seemed almost alive in its fluid design. Y/N’s eyes wandered to the collection of ships docked along its sides, their masts swaying gently with the movement of the water. The group stood in stunned silence, the sheer scale and craftsmanship of the structure leaving them momentarily speechless.

As the Going Merry docked alongside the Baratie, the eerie, solitary impression they had from afar melted away, replaced by a vibrant, bustling scene. The docks were alive with movement and sound. Sailors worked with practiced ease, tying ropes and securing their ships. Merchants were unloading crates filled with who-knew-what, their voices rising above the clatter of goods hitting the dock.

The air carried the faint aroma of sizzling food mixed with sea salt, teasing Y/N’s senses as she caught hints of laughter and animated chatter drifting from the fish-shaped structure itself. What once seemed mysterious and isolated now felt impossibly alive, like the heart of some hidden, seafaring world. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe—and a twinge of curiosity—at the liveliness surrounding them.

As the crew gathered on the deck and observed the bustling activity around the fish-shaped ship.

"Everyone's heading to that fish ship," Zoro remarked, curiosity evident in his tone.

Y/N, leaned over the railing, her awe evident as she stared at the grand fish-shaped vessel below. “It’s huge,”

“That smell,” Nami said thoughtfully, a small hum escaping her lips as the aroma of sizzling food reached her. “I think this place is a restaurant.”

"Then I know what we're gonna do next," Luffy declared, his eyes lit up with excitement.

Nami interjected, "Disguise the ship so the Marines can't find us?"

Y/N nodded in agreement. "That's a good idea."

"Sail back to Syrup Village, where it's safe?" Usopp offered, his tone equally hopeful, clutching at the last thread of safety.

But Luffy, grinning from ear to ear, announced, "Nah, let's eat!"

He turned on his heel and made to bolt toward the docks, but Y/N was faster. She grabbed his elbow, stopping him in his tracks. “Luffy, wait. We can't go in-"

Luffy turned to her, his grin faltering into a slight frown, his confusion evident as he leaned closer, their faces almost touching. “What? Why not? It’s right there—all we have to do is walk in.”

“Sure, we can,” Y/N began, her eyes flicking down to his less-than-impressive attire with a small, knowing smirk. “But not dressed like this.”

Luffy blinked, his confusion deepening.

“You’re handsome, stud, and yeah, you’ve got charm." Y/N said, patting his arm playfully, “But trust me, as a former waitress, there are places where you have to look the part. And I can tell this is one of them.”

She gestured toward the lively crowd below, some of whom were dressed a little better than the ragtag crew of the Going Merry. Luffy frowned, glancing down at himself as if only now realizing his outfit wasn’t exactly fine dining material.

“So... we’re dressing up to eat?” he asked, clearly baffled.

“Exactly,” Y/N said, smiling at his adorable cluelessness. “And trust me, it’s gonna be worth it.”

Luffy stared at her for a beat before finally shrugging, his grin returning. “Okay! As long as we get to eat after!”

"That fish better have a bar," Zoro mutters as they all make their way to their room for a scrub and a change.

Y/N slipped into a dress that felt just right for the occasion—simple, but with just enough flair to make it special. The fitted top was decorated with delicate floral embroidery that gave it a soft, romantic feel, while the flowing skirt had an uneven, handkerchief hemline that added a touch of fun. The thin straps made it feel light and easy, perfect for the moment. It was the kind of dress that hugged her in all the right places but still felt comfortable, striking that perfect balance between casual and a little bit sexy.

Y/N smirked as she caught her reflection in the mirror, tilting her head to admire her handiwork. Her white, silver hair was styled into a loose, effortless updo, with a few soft strands artfully framing her face, giving her that perfect mix of elegance and I woke up like this charm. A touch of makeup—just enough to highlight her natural features—brought the whole look together: a faint blush on her cheeks, a sleek wing of eyeliner, and a hint of gloss that made her lips look positively kissable.

“Well, don’t I just look like a walking snack,” she quipped, turning to admire the sway of the dress. “Kaya’s got taste, I’ll give her that. I owe her at least three thank-you calls and a bottle of wine.”

With that, she spun on her heel, ready to turn heads.

“You all deeply disappoint me,” Y/N announced dramatically as she joined the others, her eyes scanning their outfits with a look of sheer disapproval. Their clothes were better than before, sure, but it was painfully obvious that she was the only one who had truly put in any effort. She placed a hand on her hip, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“Tragic. All of you,” she added with a flourish, her tone dripping with mock indignation, before muttering under her breath, “I can’t believe I have to carry this entire group's sense of style on my back.”

Luffy and Usopp glanced down at their outfits, their frowns deepening. Luffy was wearing a red shirt and overalls—like he’d just walked off a farm—and Usopp had decided to rock pants, a coat, and, for some unfathomable reason, no shirt. Someone help me, Y/N thought. Zoro, as expected, looked exactly the same as always—zero effort given, zero surprises there. Nami, at least, looked decent. Not great, but decent. Y/N clicked her tongue, shaking her head like a disappointed mother.

Nami noticed her scrutiny and rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Oh, please, Y/N. This place is crawling with ugly pirates. We don’t have to look like royalty for them.”

Y/N smirked, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm as she adjusted the strap of her dress. “Sure, Nami, because when I think of my life goals, ‘blending in with ugly pirates’ is right at the top of the list.” She gave the group a once-over, then added with a mock sigh, “Listen, just because the bar is on the floor doesn’t mean I have to trip over it. Standards, darlings. Standards.”

"Can we just go now?" Zoro said to which Luffy nods excitedly.

She let out an exaggerated sigh, smoothing her hand over her dress like she was trying to gather the patience to deal with them. Finally, she gave the group a look of mock exasperation, her tone dripping with playful judgment.

“Alright, come on, let’s get this over with before I change my mind and pretend I don’t know any of you.” She started walking ahead, throwing a cheeky glance over her shoulder. "Be good, you’re all one embarrassing moment away from being disowned."

As they strolled through the bustling docks, Y/N walked with her head held high and a confident grin tugging at her lips. She could feel the stares following her, lingering longer than usual. Did it feel good to be admired? Absolutely—it always did. But she wasn’t naive; she knew exactly why they were staring. Her appearance, her aura, her very presence practically demanded attention. That’s one of her traits as a siren, after all. 

Still, the attention was something she chose to brush off… mostly. Every so often, her smirk widened just a fraction, a subtle acknowledgement that yes, she knew she was turning heads, and yes, she was enjoying it more than she’d ever admit.

“Wow, people do stare at you,” Usopp muttered, his wide eyes darting around the dock as merchants and pirates. His tone was half amazement, half bewilderment.

Y/N’s grin widened, a mischievous glint in her eye as she smoothly linked her arm with his.

“Why, yes, they do,” she replied with a playful lilt. “Care to be my arm candy for the evening, champ? Strictly for appearances, of course.”

Usopp’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and he let out a nervous chuckle.

“I… uh… okay,” he stammered, trying to muster a confident smile.

Y/N leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Relax, Usopp. Just think of it as adding another daring tale to your collection.”

He straightened up a bit, a spark of pride flickering in his eyes.

“Yeah, I can do that,” he said, more to himself than to her.

As they continued down the dock, Y/N couldn’t help but smirk.

“Besides,” she added with a playful wink, “who wouldn’t want to be seen with the most dashing slinger here?”

Usopp smirked, his chest puffing out as her confidence seemed to spark something in him. With his newfound swagger, he added an exaggerated strut to his step. He looked as though he’d just been crowned king of the dock.

Y/N chuckled and glanced back at Nami, who was trailing behind with Luffy, who was looking at everyone and everything all at once and Zoro, who looked like he rather be anywhere else. The orange-haired girl rolled her eyes, but there was a trace of amusement on her face that betrayed her usual exasperation. Y/N shot her a playful grin.

“Want to be my other arm candy?” Y/N teased, holding out her free arm with an exaggerated flourish. Her grin was as charming as it was mischievous. “I promise, you’ll steal just as many stares as me.”

“Pass,” she said, though the playful tone in her voice made it clear she was more amused than annoyed. “I think you’ve got enough attention for all of us,”

Y/N chuckled, turning back with a shrug. “Suit yourself, but you’re missing out on being part of the most glamorous trio this dock has ever—and will ever—see.”

She barely finished her sentence when a voice cut through the noise of the docks, calling her name.

“Y/N?”

Her entire body froze, the familiar voice making her breath catch in her throat. She snapped her head toward the source, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“Tallen?” she whispered, barely able to get the word out.

Standing a few feet away was a man with a face she’d never forgotten—dimples carved into his handsome smile, a warmth in his eyes that brought a rush of memories crashing down on her. The sight of him stole her breath.

“Oh, the stars, it’s you!” she exclaimed, a wide, joyous smile breaking across her face as she let go of Usopp without a second thought. Before anyone could react, she all but ran into the man’s arms, colliding with him like a wave meeting the shore. He wrapped her in a hug so firm and familiar it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“Sweet Y/N,” Tallen murmured, his voice soft and steady, the way she remembered.

“It’s been too long,” she whispered, holding him tighter, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Far too long,” he agreed, his arms squeezing her just a bit more.

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat, leaning into the hug as if letting go would break her. 

“I’m glad to see you alive,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m glad to see you alive,” Tallen replied softly, his words carrying the weight of shared history and loss. He was her fellow Siren—one of the last few, the dwindling remnants of their kind.

They lingered for a moment longer, their arms reluctantly falling away as they both seemed hesitant to break the connection. The warmth of the embrace lingered, but reality began to creep back in.

That’s when it happened—a deliberate clearing of a throat. Nami.

Y/N blinked, suddenly aware of her surroundings again. She turned to see Nami standing there with an arched brow, arms crossed, and a look that was equal parts curiosity and amusement. Behind her, Usopp was gaping like he’d just witnessed the twist ending of a great story, and Zoro, as usual, looked unimpressed but faintly intrigued and Luffy who had a trademark smile on his face yet curious. 

“Oh,” Y/N said, laughing awkwardly as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Right. Uh… introductions.” She glanced at Tallen and back to them. “Everyone, this is Tallen. He’s…” Her voice trailed off for a moment, her smile faltering slightly before she finished, “He’s an old friend.”

Tallen, ever the charmer, gave a polite nod to the group, his dimples deepening as he grinned. “Pleasure to meet you all.“ 

Before anyone had a chance to properly introduce themselves, Y/N cut in, her tone light but firm.

“I’ll meet you lot inside, okay?” she said, flashing them a quick smile.

Luffy looked between them, and after a second, he nodded grinning. “Okay, I’ll save you a seat.” 

Usopp muttered something about not wanting to be left behind and followed after Luffy. Nami lingered for a moment, giving Y/N a long look before sighing and heading toward the entrance.

Zoro, as usual, barely reacted, simply grunting, “Don’t take too long,” before following the others.

“Noted,” Y/N replied with a grin, already turning back to Tallen.

Y/N’s eyes softened as she looked at Tallen, a flood of emotions washing over her. The last time she’d seen him was about three or four years ago, and while he still looked very much the same, there was a new air of maturity about him—just enough to make her realize how much time had passed.

“It’s really you,” Y/N murmured, her voice tinged with disbelief and relief, as though she still wasn’t entirely convinced this moment was real.

“In the flesh,” Tallen replied with a nod, his own expression softening. He gave her a once-over, his lips curving into a teasing smile. “You look older.”

Y/N let out a huff of laughter, lightly pushing him on the shoulder. “And you still have the subtlety of a cannonball.”

Her playful smile faltered slightly as her eyes searched his face, her voice quiet but hopeful. “What about the others? Lyan, Kiku, Ren? Are they still—”

“Yes,” Tallen interrupted gently, his tone steady and reassuring. “They’re here with me.”

Y/N let out a deep sigh of relief, her shoulders visibly relaxing. “Where?”

“Probably asleep in the room on our ship,” Tallen explained, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips. “We had a late-night performance last night.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, a grin breaking across her face. “You got a ship?”

“A small one,” he said, trying (and failing) to hide just how proud he was. “But yes, we did.”

Without hesitation, Y/N threw her arms around him again, pulling him into a warm embrace. 

“I’m so happy for you—for all of you,” she whispered, her voice thick with genuine emotion.

Tallen’s smile widened as he held her, and for a moment, they simply existed in the comfort of the reunion.

Lyan, Kiku, and Ren—like Y/N and Tallen—were Sirens. They were the lucky few who had escaped the hands of those who sought to harm or exploit them. Together, they had formed their own little family, bound by survival and shared pain. They’d taught Y/N so much in the time they travelled together, how to survive in a world that wanted them gone.

And like true Sirens, they dedicated themselves to their art—music, song, and performance—using their gifts to dazzle. She could still hear their songs in her memory—hauntingly beautiful, filled with life and defiance. They’d always been on the move, hopping from island to island, hitching rides with mercenaries or, when times were desperate, even pirates. And yes, while swimming is a faster option, the risk is bigger. Staying in one place too long was a death sentence; that was the first lesson Y/N had learned from them. And now, the thought that they had their own ship, a small but significant freedom, made her heart swell with pride.

“You’ve come so far,” Y/N said softly, pulling back slightly to look at Tallen. “You all have.”

“And so have you,” Tallen replied, his tone warm and genuine. “I’m glad we found you again. Tell me, who are those people you’re here with?” 

“They’re… uh, friends,” Y/N replied, her tone unsure as she glanced over her shoulder toward the Going Merry. She hesitated, catching the way Tallen was giving her a pointed, knowing look. Finally, she sighed and added, “It’s complicated—and a long story.”

“Well,” Tallen said with a grin, leaning back slightly, “good thing we’re leaving tomorrow morning. That gives us all night to catch up."

"Okay," Y/N nods.

“Good,” Tallen said with satisfaction, taking a step back. “See you later at the bar, okay?”

“See you there,” Y/N replied, watching him as he walked away, her heart feeling lighter than it had in years.

Finally, Y/N stepped inside the ship, and her breath hitched at the sight before her. The Baratie was nothing short of magnificent, a unique blend of maritime charm and upscale elegance.

However, before Y/N could truly take in the grandeur of the Baratie's interior, her gaze locked onto the host near the entrance. Her back stiffened instinctively, and though she kept her composure, the small, well-concealed gills along her neck fluttered. They only did that when another sea creature was nearby.

He was a Fish-man.

For a moment, their eyes locked, and the air between them seemed to hum with a quiet, unspoken tension. He knew. Of course, he knew. The thing about Sirens—unique among sea creatures—was that no matter how perfectly they blended in with humans, their presence sang to others of the sea. It wasn’t something tangible, but like a melody carried on a current, it was impossible to ignore for those born of the ocean.

It wasn’t just recognition. It was history, unspoken and heavy, carried in their shared gaze. Sirens and other sea folk—whether Fish-men or Merfolk—had always harbored a quiet animosity toward one another. Sirens had something the others didn’t: choice. Sirens had a freedom that others of the sea could only dream of: the ability to seamlessly blend in with humans, to walk on land or dive into the ocean at will, and to choose when to wear a tail and when to shed it. It was a luxury that set them apart—and not always in a good way. Resentment had festered for centuries, compounded by the Sirens’ refusal to bend the knee to King Neptune’s rule.

They were a secretive, lone species.

Yet, in the aftermath of the near-massacre of her kin, these old grudges had softened, replaced by mutual, unspoken support among the remnants of the sea's diverse inhabitants.

The host's polite smile never wavered as he addressed her. "Is there anything I can help you with, madam?"

Y/N took a steadying breath, reminding herself of the fragile peace that now existed and the necessity of keeping her composure.

“My friends,” she began, her tone calm but deliberate, “they came in here just now. Uh—one of them had a straw hat—”

“Ah, yes,” the host interrupted smoothly, a faint trace of mockery curling the edges of his voice. “The ‘future king’ of the pirates.” His words dripped with wry amusement as he turned, gesturing toward a table at which her friends were currently occupying. “It’ll be right there, madam.”

Y/N sent him a polite smile, the corners of her lips curving just enough to convey gratitude. But her eyes held a subtle, knowing look—a quiet reminder of who and what she was.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice steady and composed, before making her way towards her friends

Y/N let out a quiet huff as she descended the stairs, her heels clicking rhythmically against the polished wooden floor. Internally, she was fuming. Tallen, she thought with a simmering annoyance. After this meal, I’m slapping his dimples clean off for not mentioning the Fish-Men.

But in her mild frustration and distraction, she didn’t notice the waiter stepping out from the side with a tray balanced on one hand.

They collided.

The sudden impact caused her to stumble slightly, and she instinctively reached out to steady herself, her hand brushing against the waiter's arm. A soft clatter followed as a single glass wobbled on the tray, but before it could fall, the waiter caught it effortlessly, his reflexes as smooth as silk.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” Y/N blurted, her voice a mix of embarrassment and genuine apology, a faint flush dusting her cheeks.

"No need to apologize, mademoiselle," he said smoothly, turning to face her with a charming smile that she was sure he thought could probably disarm a shipful of pirates, "If anything, I should thank the heavens for allowing me to cross paths with such a captivating beauty."

Y/N blinked at him, caught momentarily off guard by his line, but only for a heartbeat. Oh, he's one of those. Her lips curved into a sly, confident smile as she straightened her dress, effortlessly slipping into her usual charm.

"Is that so?" she teased, tilting her head ever so slightly. "Well, if fate's handing out meetings, perhaps it's my lucky day to encounter a waiter with such impeccable reflexes and a silver tongue to match."

The waiter's eyes widened for a brief moment, her words catching him off guard, but his signature charm quickly returned. He straightened his posture, one hand adjusting his tie as a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Ah, mademoiselle, you honor me,” he said smoothly, his voice rich and velvety. “But let me assure you, my reflexes pale in comparison to the elegance of your words. It seems fate isn’t just kind—it’s downright generous today.”

His gaze softened as he leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “And if this is your lucky day, then I’d consider it mine too. After all, it’s not every day I get to save a stunning woman from the perils of a wobbling glass.”

“Smooth,” she said and leaned in slightly, her expression mischievous, her voice dropping to a low, playful lilt. “But tell me, loverboy, is that line part of the menu, or is it just a special off-the-cuff dish you whip up for unsuspecting women?”

Sanji blinked, the faintest hint of pink dusting his cheeks, but he quickly tried to recover, clearing his throat. “I-"

Her eyes sparkled as she continued, barely giving him a chance to recover.

“Because if it’s the latter, I must say, it’s quite the treat. Though…” her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made his breath hitch. She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a soft, almost conspiratorial tone. “I can’t help but wonder if you’ve got something even better in your repertoire.”

Sanji blinked, momentarily at a loss, his cheeks dusted with a soft pink hue as he struggled to regain his composure. He adjusted his tie again, swallowing hard, his usual suave demeanor slipping under the weight of her effortless teasing.

“M-mademoiselle,” he stammered, his voice still coated with charm, though now tinged with genuine fluster. “I assure you, my repertoire has no limits, and I’d be honored to… to serve you something truly unforgettable.”

Y/N took a step closer, her eyes never leaving his.

"You know," she said softly, reaching up to straighten his slightly askew tie, "flattery will get you everywhere." Her fingers lingered for a moment longer than necessary, her touch light and teasing.

The waiter's breath hitched, his composure slipping as a deep flush spread across his cheeks. "I-I... um..."

Y/N leaned in, faces ever so closely, she whispered, "But only if you can keep up." With that, she pulled back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have friends waiting."

She turned on her heel and sauntered away, leaving the flustered waiter staring after her, his heart pounding in his chest. She couldn't help but chuckle to herself. Too easy.

Y/N made her way over to her friends, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. She paused when she reached the table, her eyes scanning the group briefly before landing on Zoro, who was comfortably perched at the edge of the bench.

“Zoro,” she said, her tone light but teasing, “please stand up so I can sit next to Nami.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow at her, clearly unimpressed. “What’s wrong with sitting on the other side?”

Y/N tilted her head, her expression turning mock-serious as she placed a hand on her hip. “Because I prefer not to be in the splash zone when Luffy starts eating. You know how he gets.”

Zoro grumbled under his breath, muttering something about "drama queens," but he stood up anyway, shifting to another spot and letting Y/N slide gracefully into the seat next to Nami without a fuss.

She turned to him with a triumphant smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Thank you, my love. Your cooperation is, as always, greatly appreciated.”

"Yeah, yeah," Zoro muttered, settling into his new seat.

Nami chuckled softly beside Y/N. "Always know how to get your way, don't you?"

Y/N winked. "It's a gift, really."

The waiter approached their table with practiced ease, balancing a tray of beverages for the group. One by one, he placed the drinks in front of the others, his movements smooth and deliberate. Just as Y/N was about to ask for hers, he surprised her by setting a bottle of wine on the table in front of her with a small flourish.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued as she glanced up at him. His smirk was confident, almost playful, as he leaned slightly closer.

“A fine wine for a finer ladies,” he said smoothly, his tone dripping with charm.

The corner of Y/N’s lips curled into a sly smile as she leaned back in her chair, her arms crossing casually.

“Flattering,” she replied, tilting her head. “But I don’t remember ordering this."

Y/N turned to Nami faking curiosity, "Did you, pumpkin?"

"No, just water," Nami said as she picked up the glass of water.

"I see," Y/N turns to the waiter and tilts her head. "Does it come with the compliments of the establishment or the waiter?”

“Consider it a personal recommendation,” he said, straightening slightly, though there was now a faint hint of nervousness behind his confident demeanor. With practiced precision, he poured a bit of the wine into her glass, the rich liquid swirling smoothly as it settled.

“The food will be out shortly. Enjoy,” he added, flashing one last ever-so-charming smile before gracefully excusing himself.

Y/N watched him go with an amused smirk before raising her glass. “Well, salud,” she said, the word rolling off her tongue effortlessly as she took a sip. She paused for a moment, savoring the taste, then gave a small nod of approval.

“Not bad,” she remarked, her eyes twinkling as she placed the glass back on the table. “But then again, I wouldn’t expect anything less after that performance.”

Nami rolled her eyes. “He’s got some nerve, doesn’t he?”

Y/N chuckled. “Oh, he’s got more than nerve—he’s got good taste in wine, at least.”

“So, who was your friend you were talking to?” Luffy asked, his voice muffled as he shoved another bread bun into his mouth without a care for table manners.

Usopp grinned, leaning forward with his eyebrows wiggling teasingly. “A boyfriend?”

“Gods, no,” Y/N said with a laugh, shaking her head as she took another sip of her wine. “Like I said, just an old friend. One I didn’t think I’d ever see again.”

“Why?” Nami chimed in, her tone laced with curiosity.

Y/N paused for a moment, swirling the wine in her glass as she felt their collective gazes on her. She glanced around the table, noting how everyone seemed genuinely interested—except Zoro, of course, who only looked vaguely curious in that nonchalant way of his.

“Well,” she began, her voice casual but carrying a note of fondness, “me and a few others used to travel together, performing and stuff, y’know.” She gestured vaguely with her free hand, her eyes flicking between them. “We were kind of like a troupe—dancers, musicians, storytellers. We’d go from town to town, putting on shows for whoever would watch.”

“Oh, were they your crew—” Luffy started, crumbs still falling from his mouth.

“No,” Y/N interrupted softly, her tone firmer this time, her gaze dropping to the glass in her hand. “They’re no crew. They’re family.”

She fidgeted slightly in her seat, swirling the wine in her glass before taking another sip as if it might steady her thoughts.

“They’re like an uh—” she began, then shook her head with a quiet laugh, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Like a shoal of fish or a covey of birds. Travelling from island to island letting the ocean take them as it wishes. Never staying in one spot long enough to leave footprints.”

“Why didn’t you stay with them?” Of course, it was Zoro who asked, his tone direct, his eyes focused on her like he was cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

Y/N looked up at him, her lips parting slightly as if to answer, but then her gaze shifted to Nami, who was watching her just as intently, curiosity swimming in her eyes. Her fingers tightened slightly around the stem of her glass, and for a moment, the table felt far too quiet, far too heavy.

But as if the universe took pity on her, the food arrived at just the right moment, breaking the tension. Plates upon plates were placed on the table, filling the air with rich, mouthwatering aromas. Y/N let out a silent breath of relief, leaning back slightly as the waiter set down her dish.

She picked up her fork, her expression brightening ever so slightly as she joined in the excitement of the food.

“Finally, something to stop Luffy from eating the table itself,” she teased lightly, earning a laugh from Usopp and a grin from Nami.

The question lingered in the air, unspoken but not forgotten. But Y/N knew she wouldn’t let it resurface. The answer was too close, too raw. The past had no business here, at this table, at this moment. Not when she’d worked so hard to leave it behind.

The food was nothing short of spectacular, each bite bursting with flavor that left Y/N savoring every moment. It didn’t take long for the plates to clear—unsurprising, given Luffy and Usopp’s ravenous appetites. She barely had a chance to blink before half the dishes had vanished under their relentless enthusiasm.

Still, Y/N took her time, indulging in the meal like royalty. She filled herself to the brim, relishing every delicious bite until she leaned back in her chair, her stomach pleasantly full and her breaths coming slower. She could hardly move, but it was worth it. Every bite was a little slice of heaven, and she wasn’t about to let a single morsel go to waste.

As she leaned back in her chair, a hand resting on her overly full stomach, she let out a soft groan of satisfaction. “If I die tonight, tell the world it was the Baratie that did me in,”

I can’t eat another bite," Usopp moaned dramatically, staring longingly at the piece of cheese on his fork. "But it’s so good."

"Oh man, you said it," Zoro muttered, popping the cap off yet another beer like he was just getting started.

Nami sighed, leaning back in her chair with a hand on her stomach. "I’m not gonna be hungry for a week."

And then, of course, there was Luffy—completely unaffected. Still chewing on a massive steak, he looked up and, with the kind of unshakable enthusiasm only he could manage, asked, "Should we order dessert?"

"Yes," Y/N grunted, her voice muffled as she leaned back, trying to make room in her overstuffed stomach. She might have been at capacity, but her notorious sweet tooth wasn’t about to let her skip dessert. Priorities, she thought.

"I already got mine," Zoro said, lifting his beer meaningfully as if it was the only dessert he needed.

Luffy’s eyes lit up like fireworks, his hands clapping against the table as he finally set his steak down. "Mmm, that reminds me! We should make a toast. Come on, grab your glasses."

Y/N turned her head to look at Luffy, her expression somewhere between disbelief and amusement as she watched him grab his glass of milk. She sighed, unable to suppress a small smirk, and reached for her wine glass, holding it up lazily.

“To the best crew sailing on the sea and to our victory!” Luffy cheered, his grin stretching wide as he clinked his glass enthusiastically with Usopp’s.

“Yeah!” Usopp echoed, raising his mug like they’d just conquered the world.

Y/N, however, pursed her lips, quietly letting her glass go down. The memory of being so dangerously close to recapture by the Marines clung to her like a shadow, one she wasn’t ready to toast to. Victory wasn’t exactly how she’d describe that ordeal.

“No, I’m sorry,” Nami’s voice cut sharply through the celebration, her expression firm as she turned to Luffy. Her eyes narrowed. “What victory exactly?”

“Against the Marines,” Luffy said with unabashed excitement, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Our very first battle, and we crushed them!”

Nami shook her head, her frustration barely masked. “I don’t know how many naval battles you guys have been part of…”

“Two dozen, at least,” Usopp mumbled behind his beer.

“But that was a disaster,” Nami continued, her tone rising as her exasperation grew. “We were unprepared, uncoordinated. By all rights, we should be at the bottom of the sea right now.”

“We’re not, though. Luffy saved us,” Usopp chimed in, as if that single fact could erase the chaos of it all.

Y/N let out a slow, heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as she felt the tension brewing. She could already see where this conversation was heading.

"Are we really going to ignore the elephant in the room right now?" Nami deadpanned, her voice sharp enough to cut through the remaining chatter at the table.

"Nami, please..." Y/N said softly, trying to settle her down, though she already knew it was a losing battle.

"No, Y/N." Nami turned to her, her tone edged with irritation, then immediately shifted her focus to Luffy. "He didn’t think to mention that his grandfather was a Marine. And not just any Marine, a vice-admiral! I don’t know about you, but I didn’t sign up for that."

"You raided a Marine base," Zoro interjected, as if that explained everything. "Of course that’ll make you a target."

Nami swung her gaze to him, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. "If I’d stolen the map, no one would’ve even known I was there. As opposed to wrecking a base commander’s office."

Before the tension could thicken, Sanji—the waiter, as Y/N now knew him—appeared at the table with his usual calm and charm. "Your bill, sir,"

“Ah,” Luffy replied with his trademark carefree smile which took a moment to appear. He took the bill, scribbled something on it without a second thought, and handed it back. “Thank you, my good man.”

Y/N’s frown deepened as she sat up straighter, her eyes narrowing on the exchange. Her mind shot back to Shell’s Town, to when Luffy ate at Food Foo. She had a bad feeling about this.

"Luffy..." Y/N said cautiously, her voice slower now, but he didn’t seem to hear her.

Sanji glanced at the bill, and a peculiar smile spread across his face—a smile that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine.

"No, sir. Thank you," Sanji said smoothly, his tone almost... too pleasant.

Oh, gods. As a former waitress, she recognized that smile. That was the you’re-about-to-regret-this smile. She glanced around at her friends to see if anyone else had caught on. Was she seriously the only one who understood what was about to happen?

She tried again, her voice firmer this time. "Luffy—"

But Luffy, ever oblivious, kept going, raising his voice slightly in what he probably thought was an inspirational tone. "I’m not saying it’s good that the Marines are on our tail, but we showed them they can’t just roll over us!"

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose as her suspicions grew. Luffy, please, stop talking.

"This crew, our crew, can handle anything!" Luffy declared with a triumphant grin.

And as if fate itself couldn’t resist the opportunity for drama, a booming voice cut through the restaurant, rattling the walls and silencing the entire room.

"WHO THE HELL IS MONKEY D. LUFFY?"

Y/N groaned, her head falling into her hands. "Here we go." She looked up just in time to see Luffy look back at the head chef and raise his hand.

"Here!" Luffy called out, completely unfazed.

Y/N slumped back into her seat, muttering under her breath. "Oh, stars,"

Zeff's scowl deepened as he strode over, the crowd parting in his wake.

"You seem to be confused about the rules of the house, but Baratie doesn’t offer credit," He stopped beside their table, towering over them, glaring at Luffy, who was calmly drinking his milk. "You eat, you pay."

Luffy looked up, unfazed. "I think you’re confused."

Y/N groaned, hiding her face in her hands as she anticipated Luffy's explanation.

"The meal has already been paid for. I just haven’t given you the money yet," Luffy continued confidently.

Zeff's eyebrow twitched. "Yeah, and how’s that?"

"You can add it to my treasure tab," Luffy said with a grin.

"And what, pray tell, is that?" Zeff asked, his tone flat.

"I may not look like a big deal yet, but you’re talking with the future King of the Pirates," Luffy declared, as if that would make it all go better. "And as soon as I find the One Piece, I’m gonna come back, pay this bill in full, and with interest."

The chef let out a low chuckle. “I’ve got a better idea.”

And just like that, Luffy was unceremoniously hauled off toward the kitchens.

Y/N leaned back in her chair, exhaling a long breath of resignation as her gaze drifted off into nothingness. She made no effort to intervene—it wasn’t worth it.

“I need a drink,” Nami muttered, rubbing her temple.

“Yeah, something stronger would be nice,” Y/N sighed, her tone weary.

The four made their way to the bar located in the mouth of the fish, settling into a quiet corner. Zoro was already on his third beer, Nami and Usopp on their first, while Y/N was still trying to decide what to order. Her deliberation was interrupted when a bartender approached and set a large cocktail down in front of her.

Y/N blinked, looking up at the bartender with confusion. “Uh... sorry, I didn’t—”

“No, he bought it for you,” the bartender cut in, nodding toward an older man perched at the bar. The man raised his glass and winked at her with a grin that sent a chill down her spine.

“Oh, goodie,” Y/N muttered under her breath, though she still managed to force a polite smile in the man’s direction. She turned back to the bartender quickly. “You can take it back. I—”

Before she could finish, Usopp reached over, snatching the drink with a grin. “No, I’ll take it!” he said cheerfully, taking a big sip. His face lit up almost immediately.

“Oh, this is good!” he said, waving enthusiastically at the older man. “THANK YOU!”

Y/N stared at him, half-exasperated, half-amused, as she sighed and leaned back in her chair. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

Nami leaned back in her chair. “You’ve got some admirers, Y/N.”

“Admirers I don’t want,” Y/N shot back, glaring playfully at Usopp as he continued to sip the drink. “Thanks for taking one for the team, Usopp.”

“Hey, waste not, want not.” He took another big sip, completely unbothered, while Nami rolled her eyes and Zoro chuckled into his beer.

"Speaking of waste not," Y/N said with a sly smirk, reaching over to grab Usopp's barely-touched beer. "I’ll take that off your hands, champ."

Usopp, completely absorbed in savouring the oversized cocktail, simply hummed in agreement, nodding absentmindedly as he took another enthusiastic sip.

“Thanks, generous as always,” Y/N chuckled, raising the glass to her lips, watching as Usopp continued to obliviously inhale the cocktail, none the wiser.

That was until Zoro, in an uncharacteristic act of charity, warned the boy, “Pace yourself.”

Usopp paused mid-sip, looking down at the drink with a skeptical expression. “I don’t even think there’s liquor in this. It tastes just like candy.”

Y/N tilted her head thoughtfully, a teasing hum escaping her lips. “Wouldn’t be so sure,”

Zoro took a swig of his beer and added dryly, “Yeah, last time I said that, I woke up face down under a table.”

Y/N burst out laughing, her grin wide and teasing. "Oh, I would’ve paid good berry to see that."

“Yeah, I bet you would’ve,” Zoro scoffed, his gaze shifting to Nami, who was staring intently at her glass, lost in thought. He raised an eyebrow before looking away. “That glass have gold on the bottom or what?"

Nami blinked, snapping out of her trance. “Hmm?”

“You haven’t stopped staring at it,” Zoro pointed out, his tone blunt as usual.

Nami sighed, clearly debating something, before finally caving and looking between Zoro and Y/N. “You seriously don’t think what Luffy did is messed up?”

Y/N’s teasing grin faded as she glanced down at her own drink. She could understand where Nami was coming from. Truly, she did. But who was she to demand someone to share their secrets? To dig up secrets or memories that Luffy clearly wanted to leave buried? That wasn’t her place.

“Yeah, he should’ve told us,” Zoro admitted, his tone calm and matter-of-fact. He leaned back in his chair before adding, “But in case you didn’t notice, we’ve been making enemies everywhere we go. Psycho clowns, killer butlers… what’s a vice-admiral gonna do to us that’s any worse?”

Y/N lifted her glass, her voice quieter but steady. “And who are we to demand something like that out of him? I’m sure he has his reasons for keeping it to himself.”

Nami shook her head, her frustration barely contained. “No, you don’t get it. I can’t get caught. Not when I’m so close…”

Her words trailed off abruptly as if she realized she had said too much. Her lips pressed together tightly, and Y/N made no effort to pry. She wouldn’t judge—she understood the weight of secrets all too well.

After a tense moment, Nami placed her beer down and forced a casual look. “Uh, who’s ready for another drink? My treat.”

Zoro grunted in approval, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “My favorite kind of drink.”

Y/N nodded with a smile, “Can’t say no to that.”

With that, Nami swiftly stood up and headed to the bar, leaving the trio behind at the table. The moment she was out of earshot, Usopp leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a whisper as he said, “She’s hiding something.”

Y/N chuckled softly, tipping back the last of her beer. She set the empty glass down with a gentle clink and met Usopp’s wide-eyed gaze with a knowing look.

“Aren’t we all?” she replied, her tone light but laced with truth.

Zoro glanced at her but said nothing, his expression unreadable as he took another sip of his beer.

Suddenly, Y/N felt two strong hands grab her from behind, lifting her right out of her chair with a jolt. Her heart nearly skipped a beat, but the instinct to panic vanished as soon as she recognized the culprit. Only one person would do something so ridiculous.

“But look at you!!” Ren exclaimed, his voice booming with excitement as he hugged her tightly and started walking away from the table, carrying her like a sack of potatoes.

Y/N groaned but couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of her.

“Ren, put me down!” she demanded, half-laughing, half-protesting.

When he finally set her down, Y/N turned and froze, her eyes lighting up as she saw Tallen, Lyan, and Kiku standing nearby, all grinning from ear to ear.

For a moment, she just stared at them, taking it all in—the familiar faces, the warmth in their smiles, the wave of nostalgia and relief that washed over her. Then, without hesitation, she let out a shriek of pure joy and jumped forward, wrapping them in a tight hug.

“Oh gods, I can’t believe this!” she exclaimed, her voice cracking slightly from the overwhelming emotion. Hugging them again felt like coming home, like a missing piece of herself had been returned. The weight of everything she’d been carrying seemed to lift, if only for a moment.

They laughed as they hugged her back, each one holding her tightly as if to make up for lost time. Tallen stood to the side, his arms crossed and a big grin plastered across his face as he watched the reunion.

“I told you she’d be here,” Tallen said smugly, glancing at the others.

Y/N pulled back slightly, her hands still on Kiku's and Lyan’s shoulders, her smile wide and genuine. “Gods, I miss you all."

“We missed you more!” Ren grinned, squeezing her back tightly.

Kiku laughed softly, her voice warm. “We thought we’d never see you again.”

Lyan, ever the quiet one, simply smiled, his eyes crinkling with the emotion he didn’t need to say out loud.

"Tallen told us you’ll be playing with us tonight…" Kiku said, her voice lilting with both curiosity and excitement as she looked at Y/N with a hopeful smile.

Y/N blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before arching an eyebrow at Tallen, who was standing nearby, grinning like he’d just pulled off the biggest scheme of the century.

“Did he now?” Y/N asked, her tone teasing as she folded her arms, giving Tallen a mock glare. "Funny, because Tallen didn’t ask me about that.”

Tallen chuckled, holding up his hands defensively. “Come on, Y/N, it’s just like old times! One night, one set—think of it as a reunion gig.”

“A reunion gig?” Y/N repeated, raising both eyebrows now. “You mean the kind where you spring it on me last second and I have no time to prepare?”

“Oh, please,” Ren chimed in, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “You could do this in your sleep. You’re Y/N—you’re never not ready.”

She sighed, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile as she crossed her arms. “You guys really don’t give me a choice, do you?”

“Not even a little,” Lyan chimed in with a laugh, nudging her playfully. “Come on, Y/N. It’ll be just like old times.”

Kiku clasped her hands together, her smile widening. “We’ve missed this, and we’ve missed you.”

Y/N sighed, looking around at their expectant faces, her faux-annoyance melting into a small smile.

“You all are impossible, you know that?” she said, shaking her head. “Fine. But only because I am amazing and don’t need prep time.”

The group burst into cheers, Kiku clapping her hands in delight. “I knew you wouldn’t say no!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N said, waving them off but unable to keep the grin off her face. “But don’t blame me if I upstage all of you tonight.”

Tallen smirked. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

After a few drinks—just enough for Y/N to feel a pleasant buzz warming her cheeks—and some planning for tonight's performance, the nostalgia began to creep in. The laughter, the easy camaraderie of old friends… it felt like slipping back into a part of herself she hadn’t touched in a long time.

Soon, the time for the show finally came. Excusing herself with a grin, Y/N made her way to the Going Merry to grab her guitar. When she returned, the bar was alive with excitement, the anticipation practically crackling in the air.

Tallen, ever the showman, was already commanding the attention of the crowd with his infectious energy and booming voice. He stood center of the makeshift stage, Den Den Mushi in hand, hyping up the room like a seasoned entertainer. When his eyes landed on Y/N stepping into view, he broke into a wide grin, his charisma cranked up to full volume.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Pirates, sailors, and scallywags alike!” he called out, his voice booming through the Den Den Mushi. “Prepare yourselves for a treat like no other! She’s sailed with the best, dazzled the rest, and left a trail of awestruck audiences in her wake! The one, the only, the songbird of the seas—give it up for Y/N!”

The audience erupted into whistles, cheers, and applause as Tallen stepped aside, his grin as wide as ever while he gestured grandly for her to take the stage. Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes with a playful laugh, shaking her head at his theatrics. Adjusting the strap of her guitar, she made her way to the centre of the stage with a light skip to her step and a twist that made her skirt flare just slightly, adding her own bit of signature flair to the entrance.

Her smile widened as she took in the energy of the crowd, the cheers lifting her spirits even higher. She gave a mock curtsy, her guitar still slung across her shoulder and leaned into the Den Den with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Alright, alright,” she said, her voice warm but teasing as the applause began to settle. “No need to go overboard—Tallen already made me sound like I’m the second coming of Gold Roger.”

The audience chuckled, and Tallen shot her wink. "Just saying it as I see it, my dear."

“Alright, folks, let me be honest with you—Tallen hyped me up so much that even I’m starting to wonder if I’m actually that good,” Y/N said, grinning. “But hey, if I mess up, just remember—you paid for the drinks, not the talent.”

She let the crowd laugh again, her timing impeccable as she adjusted her guitar. “But in all seriousness, thank you for having me tonight. I don’t usually play in restaurants shaped like fish—it’s a very niche market—but hey, there’s a first for everything.”

A few people cheered in agreement, and Y/N gave a casual shrug. “Now, let’s get to the part where I make you forget how much you spent on tonight’s drinks. If I pull that off, I’m expecting a hefty tip.”

The crowd roared with laughter, and Y/N’s smile widened as her fingers brushed the strings lightly in preparation. “Alright, enough chatter. You’ve got drinks in hand, I’ve got a guitar, and we’ve got a whole night ahead of us. Let’s make it count.”

The performance began with Y/N leading the charge, her guitar striking bright, rhythmic chords that immediately set an upbeat tone. Lyan joined in, the lively jingle of his tambourine adding a playful, danceable cadence. The two played off each other seamlessly, their chemistry sparking an infectious energy that had the crowd tapping their feet.

With a quick nod from Y/N, the rest of the group jumped in. Tallen’s mandolin brought a sharp, vibrant melody, Ren’s drums added a driving, steady beat, and Kiku’s violin soared with a celebratory tone that tied everything together. The room came alive as the music burst into full swing, blending into a rich, layered sound.

The energy in the room shifted, the crowd coming alive with movement as the song picked up speed.

"I thought this path was ours to tread, But now it feels like we’ve been misled, Walking this lonely, lonely, endless shore. Your reasons crash like waves at sea, Still, here you are, still here with me, On this lonely, lonely, endless shore."

When the chorus hit, the energy exploded. The band’s instruments blended into a dynamic symphony, each member adding their unique flair. The crowd clapped along, swept up in the fast-paced rhythm. Y/N almost laughed mid-strum when her eyes landed on a drunk Usopp, who had claimed a tiny patch of open floor as his personal dance stage. With exaggerated movements and questionable rhythm, he twirled and stomped.

"If I follow you to the blue, And let my heart drift back to you, Will you stay with me forever, Or disappear like fading beams? If I give my soul to the restless tide, And let its rhythm be our guide, Will it hold us close together, Or wash away our dreams?"

As the band transitioned into the second verse, the room buzzed with vibrant energy. Y/N’s voice carried the emotional weight of the lyrics, weaving effortlessly into the lively rhythm of the instruments. The crowd was fully engaged—some clapped along, others swayed to the music and a few near the bar cheered, their laughter mingling with the lively tune. Even the more reserved patrons couldn’t resist tapping their feet or nodding along.

"You chose a path I couldn’t take, Now here we stand, the ground could break, Walking this lonely, lonely, endless shore.

Take my hand, don’t let it fall, Where does it end, if anywhere at all, Walking this lonely, lonely, endless shore."

The band played with seamless harmony—Y/N’s steady guitar leading, Kiku’s violin soaring, Ren’s drums driving the rhythm, and Tallen’s mandolin adding a playful melody, all tied together by Lyan’s tambourine. The crowd fed off their energy, with a few pirates dancing along with Usopp, turning a small patch of the floor into thier personal, chaotic dance stage.

Y/N caught herself smiling as she glanced over at her friends. Nami was bopping her head in time with the rhythm, a grin spread across her face as if she couldn’t help but get caught up in the energy of the song. Zoro, ever the stoic one, sat back with his usual indifference, but Y/N noticed the slight tap of his foot in time with the beat, betraying his enjoyment. Her fingers moved fluidly over the strings, effortlessly keeping pace with the upbeat rhythm, her smile widening as the song carried on to the last verse.

"I’m just a shadow in your light, A fleeting trace in the starless night. The ocean holds your broken vow, A love you couldn’t cherish now. I know, I know, it’s hard to bear, I lost you here, it’s just not fair. I know, I know, the tide won’t stay, It sweeps our dreams, it pulls away. I know, I know, it’s all too real, I lost you here, I’ll never heal."

With one final strum of the guitar and a unified flourish from the band, the music ended in a crescendo, leaving the crowd cheering, whistling, and stomping their approval. The energy in the room was electric, the upbeat ending turning what could have been a somber farewell into a celebration of persistence, love, and life’s tides.

Y/N laughed breathlessly, taking a small bow as the applause roared around her. Turning to her bandmates, she exchanged a wide grin with them, all of them clearly riding the high of the performance.

“Alright, drinks on you guys, yeah?” Y/N teased, her voice light and playful, carrying easily over the cheers and laughter that filled the room.

Tallen, grinned as he turned to her, his hand dramatically pressed over his heart.

“Oh, sweet Y/N,” Tallen said, his tone dripping with mock sincerity, the perfect blend of theatrical and heartfelt, “just one more ballad, yeah? Promise.”

“Oh, I don’t know, T." Y/N tilted her head, leaning back slightly as if the weight of his words was just too much to bear. "Carrying this whole show on my back is exhausting, you know.”

The crowd laughed, and Tallen didn’t miss a beat. He turned sharply to face the audience, his charisma cranked up to full volume, arms spread wide like a ringmaster addressing his adoring crowd.

“Come on, folks,” he called out, his grin dazzling and infectious. “Don’t you want to hear more? You’re not tired of her yet, are you?”

The room erupted with a thunderous cheer, whistles and applause filling the air as people shouted their agreement. Y/N raised an eyebrow, glancing at Tallen with a playful smirk as the crowd roared around them.

Leaning toward the Den Den, she gave him a mock glare, her voice dripping with teasing charm. “You really are shameless, aren’t you? Riding my coattails like this,”

Tallen shrugged dramatically, his grin widening. “What can I say? They love you, darling. I’m just the hype man making sure the masses get what they want.”

“And here I thought I was the show-off,” Her grin widened as she addressed the laughing audience, her tone light but commanding, filled with charm.

“Alright, alright, you win. Let’s give them something they’ll be singing in their sleep.” She threw Tallen a cheeky glance. “And don’t think you’re off the hook, T. I’m watching you.”

With that, the band launched into the next song, the instruments bursting to life in perfect harmony. The room came alive once more, and the audience swept up in the rhythm, completely enthralled by the magic of the performance.

Soon, the show came to an end, much to Y/N’s dismay. The applause was deafening as she strummed the final chord, giving the crowd one last radiant smile and a playful wave. “You’ve been amazing—don’t forget to tip your bartenders!” she called, earning another round of laughter and cheers before stepping down from the stage.

She was immediately met by a wave of smiling patrons, each vying for a moment of her time. Compliments poured in, one after another—people singing her praises, declaring her the highlight of their night. Some handed her Berry as tokens of appreciation, while others offered bottles of liquor, which she accepted with a bright grin and a playful “You sure know how to spoil a girl.” A few even declared their undying love, and Y/N laughed, placing a hand over her heart. “Flattered, truly. I’ll consider proposals after my second bottle.”

Her natural charm and ease kept the interactions lively, but eventually, she managed to slip away, the bottle of rum in her hand clinking softly as she met up with Tallen. Together, they wandered off to a quieter, more secluded part of the fish-ship, near the docks. The sounds of the lively restaurant faded into the background as they sat down at the edge, letting their feet dangle over the water.

“Been too long,” Tallen said, breaking the silence as he gazed out over the gently rippling water.

Y/N nodded, her fingers idly tapping the neck of the bottle. “Yeah, it has. I missed this. Missed you.”

He grinned, though it was softer than his usual showmanship, the kind of smile that reached his eyes. “You’ve done good, you know. I can tell.”

She laughed lightly, leaning back on her hands. “Still figuring it out. You know me—one chaotic day at a time, which these days seems more often than not.”

Tallen smirks in curiosity, "Whatever do you mean?"

"Earlier today, you saw the people I was with, well..."

They passed the bottle back and forth, the hum of the distant crowd fading into the background as they talked. This wasn’t the idle chatter from before—it was real, honest catching up, the kind of conversation only old friends could have. They laughed about shared memories, exchanged stories of where they’d been, and filled in the gaps that time and distance had left.

Y/N leaned back on her hands, staring up at the stars as Tallen told her a particularly ridiculous story about his recent travels. She laughed, the sound light and genuine, and nudged his shoulder with her own.

“You’re still as full of it as ever,” she teased, though her eyes gleamed with fondness.

“And you’re still the queen of stealing the spotlight,” Tallen retorted, taking another swig of rum and shooting her a teasing grin. “But damn, it’s good to see you out here again. Just like old times.”

Y/N chuckled softly, her fingers brushing the edge of the dock as her gaze drifted to the water.

“Yeah,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “It’s good to see you too.”

For a moment, they let the silence settle between them, the kind of peaceful, unspoken understanding that only old friends could share. The gentle lapping of the waves against the ship filled the spaces between their breaths, and for a brief while, the weight of the past and the uncertainties of the future didn’t matter.

But, of course, Tallen couldn’t leave it there.

“So,” he began, his tone mischievous as always, “tell me… what happened with that boy? The one you left us for? You know, the one who made you think settling down was a good idea, all doe-eyed and dreamy?

The question hit her like a splash of cold water. Memories rushed back, unbidden, vivid and sharp. That boy. The boy. She could still see his face, hear his laugh, and feel how easy it had been to let her guard down with him. And she remembered just as vividly how that had been her downfall. The trust she’d given so freely, the love she’d thought was unshakable—it had all come apart like a house of cards in a storm.

She didn’t respond right away, instead reaching for the bottle of rum and taking a long swig, letting the burn of the alcohol drown out the ache that wanted to settle in her chest. Only when she’d numbed it enough did she hand the bottle back to Tallen.

“He was a pirate,” she said simply, her voice steady but laced with a bitterness she couldn’t quite hide.

Tallen took the bottle from her, his brow furrowing slightly as he took his own drink. He let the silence hang for a beat before muttering, “Fucking pirates.”

Y/N let out a soft, humorless laugh, her lips quirking upward just slightly. “Yeah. Fucking Pirates.”

The two fell quiet again, the weight of her words settling between them. Tallen didn’t press further—he didn’t need to. They both knew there were some stories better left in the past, especially on a night like this...

Y/N kept her gaze fixed on the water as it slipped and swirled around her feet, her toes wiggling absently in the cool waves. A quiet sigh escaped her as her thoughts drifted to a time when seeing her toes had been a rare occurrence—back when she didn’t need feet at all. The memory tugged at her, bittersweet and heavy.

“Do you ever miss… swimming?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a subtle edge, as though the question itself might shatter the fragile peace of the moment. But that wasn’t really what she wanted to ask. What she meant to say was, Do you ever miss your tail?

Tallen glanced at her, the unspoken meaning behind her words not lost on him. His fingers idly traced the rim of the bottle, his eyes flickered to the water. He didn’t answer immediately. For a moment, the ever-present charm and humor he wore like armor fell away, revealing something quieter, something raw.

“Of course I do,” he said at last, his voice low but steady. “It’s part of who I am. No matter how much I try to forget it—or hide it. I miss it every damn day.”

The words hit Y/N harder than she expected, though they echoed her own thoughts. She nodded faintly, her fingers brushing the edge of the dock as if trying to touch the memories she’d buried beneath the waves.

“Sometimes, I dream about it,” she admitted, her voice almost a whisper. “The feeling of the current, the water rushing past me. It’s like… I can still feel it, but when I wake up, it’s gone. And I realize it’s been gone for a long time.”

Tallen let out a low sigh, opening another bottle and taking a gulp before setting it down between them.

“We didn’t have a choice,” he said, his voice heavier now, laced with something darker. “They left us no choice. Staying in the water… staying as we were… it was a death sentence. Out here, at least, we have a chance. Even if it’s not the life we wanted.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat tightening as memories surged forward—the fear, the endless swimming, the loss of those who couldn’t escape. The oceans, once their sanctuary, had become a hunting ground, a place where survival meant running and hiding. Becoming human hadn’t been freedom; it had been desperation.

“I hate it sometimes,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “I hate that we had to choose this... to give up what we were just to live. I hate that I don’t feel safe, not here, not in the water. Nowhere.”

Tallen’s gaze softened, and he reached out, his hand resting gently on hers. “We didn’t choose this, Y/N. I know it's not the life we knew, but it’s a life we can make ours. Even if we have to fight for it every step of the way.”

Y/N took another long drink from the bottle, letting the burn of the rum cut through the ache in her chest. She handed it back to him with a faint, tired smile. “It’s not fair,”

“No, it’s not,” Tallen agreed quietly, his voice tinged with a sadness he rarely let show. “But we’re still here. They didn’t get us. And as long as we’re still breathing, there’s a chance. Maybe not now, maybe not soon, but one day… one day, we’ll stop running.”

Y/N let his words sink in, her toes wiggling again as if testing the water beneath them. She wanted to believe him, to believe there was a day when the fear would fade and they could slip back into the waves without a second thought.

The two bottles of rum were emptied far too quickly, its warmth fading as the night deepened. The distant hum of the restaurant voices grew softer, replaced by the gentle sound of the waves lapping against the ship. The world seemed quieter, heavier, as though the night itself was reluctant to let them go.

Y/N let her feet dip deeper into the water, as if the sea itself could somehow anchor her to this moment, to Tallen, to the sense of familiarity and belonging she always felt in his presence. But reality was already creeping back in, tugging at the edges of her mind.

Tallen stretched his legs, giving the empty bottle a casual toss to the side of the dock, his usual bravado masking the heaviness in the air. “

Guess that’s it, huh?” he said, his tone light, but his eyes betrayed the same reluctance she felt.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied softly, her gaze fixed on the water below. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to face the inevitability of parting ways again. But she knew she couldn’t stay. Neither of them could. “Out of rum, out of time,”

They sat there for a moment longer, both pretending they didn’t know what was coming next. But the truth was impossible to ignore. This wasn’t just a goodbye—it was a question they’d both have to carry if fate allowed them another meeting: Are they still alive?

Tallen finally stood, brushing his hands on his pants before offering one to Y/N to help her up.

“Guess we should leave it here,” he said, his voice steady but strained. “For now.”

Y/N took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. She met his gaze, her own eyes shining with unspoken words.

“For now,” she echoed softly, her lips quirking into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a brief, tight hug. “Take care of yourself, alright?” he said, his tone firm, almost commanding. “And don’t get into too much trouble.”

Y/N chuckled weakly, patting his chest as she pulled back. “You know me. Trouble follows, I just try to be faster.”

Tallen smirked, but it faded quickly. He hesitated for a moment, then turned toward the docks, his footsteps heavy as he began to walk away. Y/N stayed behind, watching his silhouette disappear into the shadows of the fish-ship.

She took a deep breath, letting the sea air fill her lungs, then exhaled slowly. The weight of the question lingered in her chest as she turned back toward the Going Merry. She didn’t know when—or if—she’d see him again. But for now, she had to keep moving. Because life didn’t allow for anything else.

Sirens, as creatures of the sea, naturally possess a higher tolerance for alcohol compared to humans. Their bodies, adapted to handle the intoxicating effects of fermented underwater plants and other potent marine brews, metabolize alcohol far more efficiently. That said, even a Siren wasn’t immune to the occasional tipsy stumble after two entire bottles of rum.

Y/N didn’t realize how tipsy she actually was until she began her walk back to the Going Merry, her steps wobbling as if the ground beneath her were swaying like the ocean waves. Each step was a battle to steady herself, but instead of frustration, she giggled to herself and began humming a tune, one she hadn’t even realized she’d made up on the spot.

By some miracle (or sheer luck), she managed to make it to the Going Merry without falling into the water.

“Absolutely magnifico!” she declared with a dramatic flourish as she boarded the ship.

With a triumphant grin, Y/N made her way inside, her mind now fixated on finding something sweet to snack on. Her thoughts were a delightful jumble of candy, cookies, and maybe even fruit if it was sugary enough. But before she could raid the pantry, she collided headlong into Nami, who looked positively furious.

“Woah! You okay, pumpkin?” Y/N slurred, placing a hand on Nami’s arm with a warm, lopsided smile.

Nami shoved her hand off, glaring at her with a sharpness that sobered Y/N just slightly. “Where the hell were you, Y/N?”

Blinking in surprise, Y/N tilted her head, her hazy mind trying to process the sudden shift in tone. “I… uh… wait, what happened?”

Nami’s glare intensified, her voice rising with frustration. “What happened is that Zoro is a massive idiot and is going to get himself killed!”

Before Y/N could fully process what Nami had just said, the navigator spun on her heel and stormed off, her footsteps echoing down the hall as she headed to her room.

Y/N stood there, swaying slightly as she tried to make sense of what she’d just heard.

“What…?” she muttered to herself, her voice tinged with confusion as she rubbed her temple. “What did I miss now?”

Y/N made her way into the kitchen, her footsteps lighter than usual thanks to her still tipsy state. The room was quieter than expected, and as her eyes adjusted, she took in the scene: a not-so-smiley Luffy—weird— Usopp, drunk yet clearly worried. And then there was the star of the night—Zoro—calmly cleaning his swords at the table, his expression as unreadable as ever.

As she walked in, all eyes turned to her. Well, almost all eyes. Luffy and Usopp looked at her directly, but Zoro merely spared her a quick glance before returning to polishing one of his blades.

“Y/N—” Luffy began, his voice unusually low, but she cut him off before he could finish.

“What’s this I heard about you getting yourself killed, hotshot?” she asked, her tone a mix of teasing and genuine curiosity as she made her way to the pantry, her mission for something sweet still very much a priority.

For a moment, the kitchen was silent, save for the faint sound of Zoro’s whetstone sliding against his sword. And then, as if it were nothing more than casual conversation, Zoro answered, his tone calm and steady: “I challenged Dracule Mihawk to a duel to the death. I’ll defeat him and become the greatest swordsman in the world.”

Y/N froze mid-reach, her hand hovering over a jar of honey. Slowly, she turned her head toward him, blinking as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d just heard. That name—Dracule Mihawk—was familiar. Too familiar. The kind of name you didn’t just forget. Wasn’t he…? No, it couldn’t be. She must’ve heard wrong. Surely, she must have.

So, she laughed. A loud, disbelieving tipsy laugh, grinning as though he’d just told her the best joke of the year.

“Oh, that’s funny,” she said, straightening up and giving Zoro a bemused grin. “For a second there, I thought you said Dracule Mihawk. You know, the Mihawk, Warlord of the Sea."

Zoro didn’t even flinch. He continued cleaning his sword, his face completely devoid of humor as he replied, “Yeah, that one.”

Y/N continued to chuckle, shaking her head as she pulled the jar of honey from the pantry. “No, it’s not,”

“It is,” Usopp mumbled, his words slurred with worry.

Y/N stopped mid-motion, the jar of honey held loosely in her hands. She blinked, her tipsy mind still not fully processing the weight of the situation. Turning to Zoro, she found him looking at her, his expression unreadable, saying nothing. That, more than anything, made her stomach tighten.

With a sharp exhale, she marched to the table and all but slapped the jar of honey down, the sound sharp enough to make Usopp flinch. In that single second, the remnants of her drunken haze evaporated. Sobriety hit her like a wave, and her playful grin was gone.

She stared at Zoro with a hard, unyielding glare, the kind that could cut through stone.

“You’re joking,” she said flatly, her voice carrying the kind of edge that dared him to confirm her hopes. When he didn’t respond, her eyes narrowed as she took a step closer. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking, Zoro.”

Luffy, of all people, chimed in, his tone oddly serious—too serious for someone who is usually a ray of walking sunshine.

Y/N blinked, looking between Luffy and Zoro, trying to wrap her head around what was being said.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she started, raising a hand as if trying to stop the flood of insanity pouring into the room. “You’re telling me you actually challenged Dracule Mihawk? As in the Warlord of the Sea? The guy who could probably split this fucking sodding ship in half just for fun?”

Zoro glanced up at her briefly, his gaze calm but resolute.

“It’s what I have to do,” he said simply, his tone devoid of fear or hesitation. “If I want to be the greatest swordsman in the world, I have to beat him. That’s the only way.”

Y/N stared at him in stunned silence, her lips parted as she tried to find the words. Her anger faltered for a moment, replaced by something deeper—concern, frustration, maybe even fear.

“Zoro, you can’t just—” she started, but her voice faltered. She straightened up, running a hand through her hair as she stepped back. Her gaze flicked to Luffy and Usopp, searching for some semblance of support. Luffy, however, remained silent, his eyes distant, while Usopp looked sick.

Finally, Y/N let out a frustrated laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Unbelievable. You’re all just going to let him go through with this? No one’s going to stop him?”

“Can’t stop him,” Luffy said simply, his tone carrying a note of quiet acceptance. “This is his dream.”

Y/N’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she stared at Zoro again, disbelief and frustration radiating off her in waves. She couldn’t wrap her head around it. As someone who had always fought tooth and nail for survival, it was utterly maddening to see someone willingly dive headfirst into danger like this.

“Zoro, please,” she said, her tone softer now, though the tension in her voice was clear. “Think about it for a second. I know you want this—I know how much it means to you—but this is insane. You’re already an amazing swordsman—”

“But not the best,” Zoro interrupted, his voice calm but resolute. His focus on his blade never wavered as he continued polishing it. “Not yet. Not until I defeat Mihawk.”

Y/N blinked, her chest tightening as his words sank in. She shook her head in disbelief, her voice rising slightly as she took a step closer. “Are you seriously so willing to throw your life away over a title? Is that all this is to you? Just a damn title?”

Zoro finally looked up, his gaze meeting hers with unyielding determination. “It’s not just a title. It’s everything I’ve trained for. Everything I’ve worked for. If I don’t take this chance, then what’s the point?”

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She searched his expression for any hint of hesitation, of doubt, but found none. He wasn’t going to change his mind. She knew that, even before she asked.

“You’re... not changing your mind, are you?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost defeated.

“You already know the answer to that,” Zoro replied simply.

“Fine,” she said, her voice cold and clipped, her tone like a sharp edge. "Go get yourself fucked up."

Zoro didn’t flinch, his focus already back on his blade. “Noted,”

Y/N scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips as she grabbed the jar of honey. She cast one last glare at the back of Zoro’s head, her frustration boiling just beneath the surface, before spinning on her heel and leaving the room without another word.

The jar of honey felt heavier in her hand than it should have, and as she made her way back to her corner of the ship, she couldn’t help but mutter under her breath, “Unbelievable. Reckless, stubborn fool...”

But no matter how angry she was, a part of her couldn’t shake the worry that gnawed at the edges of her mind. As much as she hated to admit it, she cared. And that made this all the more infuriating.

Hours passed, the tension on the Going Merry as thick as the salty sea air around it. Y/N had spent most of that time pacing, her nerves fraying with every passing minute. And now, much to her growing nervousness—and, if she were honest with herself, outright unhappiness—she found herself walking alongside Zoro to the docks of the Baratie with Luffy and Usopp, Nami was nowhere to be found and Y/N had no mind for that the moment.

The swordsman, as usual, was calm and steady, his expression unreadable, as if he were merely heading to run a simple errand rather than walking straight into a duel with one of the most dangerous men alive. Y/N, on the other hand, was barely keeping it together. Despite her earlier words, despite knowing Zoro’s mind was set, she couldn’t help herself.

“Zoro,” she said, her tone tinged with desperation, as she hurried to match his stride. “This doesn’t have to be today, you know. You could wait. Train more. Build yourself up first. Mihawk’s not going anywhere—he’ll still be terrifying tomorrow, or next week, or next year!”

“I’ve waited long enough,” he said simply, his tone steady and resolute.

Y/N groaned, throwing her hands up in frustration. “You’re impossible! You know that, right? Utterly impossible. It’s like you’ve got a death wish baked into that stubborn head of yours.”

He didn’t respond, his focus already ahead, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of one of his swords. His silence only fueled her exasperation.

“Zoro, listen,” she pressed, her voice softer now as she stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop. “You have nothing to prove. Not to me, not to the crew, not to anyone. You’re already one of the best I’ve ever seen—no one would blame you for waiting until the odds were... I don’t know, less suicidal?”

Zoro looked down at her, his dark eyes meeting hers, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his gaze. But it wasn’t doubt or hesitation—it was determination, pure and unwavering.

“I didn’t come this far to stop now,” he said firmly. “If I can’t face him, then I don’t deserve to be the best.”

Y/N stared at him, her mouth opening to argue, but the words caught in her throat. What could she say to that? What could she say to someone who was so determined to chase their dream, even if it killed them?

Y/N rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath as they reached the docks. The sight of the Baratie's empty deck and the looming presence of the infamous Dracule Mihawk in the distance made her stomach twist. She didn’t say anything else as they walked, but the tension in her chest only grew heavier with every step.

"Monkey D. Luffy," Mihawk drawled, his deep voice carrying easily over the sound of the waves. Y/N blinked in surprise, her gaze shifting to the warlord as he kept his piercing eyes locked on the boy. She followed Mihawk's line of sight, landing on Luffy, who—of course—was smiling. Smiling? Y/N thought in disbelief. She could never understand him. If a Warlord of the Sea so much as glanced in her direction, she’d have been halfway across the ocean by now.

“I’m surprised the Marines would require my services for such a small package,” Mihawk continued, his tone tinged with a subtle mockery that sent chills down Y/N’s spine. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes lingering on the Straw Hat. “Though I do like your hat…”

“Enough,” Zoro cut him off, his voice steady as he stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the warlord with unwavering resolve. “Let’s begin.”

Y/N gulped, her stomach twisting into knots as she watched Mihawk calmly remove the cross-shaped pendant from around his neck. For a moment, she was confused—was this some kind of pre-duel ritual?—but her confusion turned to disbelief when the man revealed the pendant to be a hidden blade. A tiny hidden blade.

Mihawk pulled the long part free, revealing a small knife, barely larger than a dagger. Y/N’s jaw nearly dropped. What the hell was that? She wasn’t the only one who thought so.

“What is that? I’m here for a sword fight,” Zoro deadpanned, his tone flat but edged with disbelief as he took in the Warlord’s weapon.

Mihawk didn’t flinch, his expression unreadable save for the faintest glint of amusement in his golden eyes.

“I don’t hunt rabbits with a cannon,” he replied almost mockingly, holding the tiny blade with an air of casual confidence.

Zoro, however, remained unshaken. He pulled out his two swords, their blades gleaming in the sunlight as he took a defensive stance. His voice was steady, firm, and filled with resolve. “I’m no rabbit.”

Mihawk pointed his small blade at Zoro, the move almost lazy in its precision. “That remains to be seen,” he said smoothly.

The tension between them hung thick in the air, a moment so charged that Y/N felt like she could hardly breathe. The world seemed to shrink down to just the two of them, predator and challenger, locked in an unspoken battle of wills before a single strike had even been made.

And then, Zoro moved.

With a burst of speed, he ran straight toward the Warlord, his swords raised and his expression fierce with determination. The fight had begun.

The fight was a blur for Y/N, but one thing was painfully clear—Mihawk had the upper hand from the very start. Every move Zoro made was effortlessly countered, every strike easily dodged or deflected as though the Warlord was swatting away a pesky fly.

Y/N’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle a shriek when Mihawk drove the small dagger into Zoro’s chest. Her fingers dug into Luffy’s arm as she squeezed tightly, her own breath catching at the sheer ruthlessness of the moment. When Mihawk finally unsheathed his massive blade, Yoru, Y/N grimaced, her stomach twisting with dread.

And then, as Zoro’s swords crumbled under the sheer power of Mihawk’s strike, Y/N couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her lips. Her eyes widened in shock as Zoro, instead of backing down, willingly let himself be slashed across the chest, standing tall even in defeat. The scene left her frozen, torn between awe at his resolve and fear for his life.

"Zoro!" Luffy shouted, his voice raw with emotion as the green-haired swordsman collapsed to the ground.

Without a second thought, Y/N bolted toward him, her heart pounding in her chest. She dropped to her knees beside Zoro, her hands hovering over him, unsure of where to even start.

There it was—a massive, long, bloodied slash stretching across his chest, from one shoulder to the opposite side. The sight of it made her stomach drop. Her breath hitched as she pressed a trembling hand to her mouth.

"Oh, shit… Zoro," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her own heart.

Monkey D. Luffy," Mihawk called out, his voice laced with a faint trace of curiosity. His sharp gaze settled on the boy, as if measuring him. "What’s your goal?"

"I’m going to become the King of the Pirates," Luffy replied, his tone uncharacteristically serious, his eyes unwavering.

"King of the Pirates, hmm?" Mihawk repeated, a flicker of intrigue crossing his otherwise stoic expression. "That’s a far more perilous path than even defeating me."

Luffy didn’t flinch. Instead, he turned to glare at the Warlord, his resolve shining through. "I don’t care," he said firmly. "It’s what I’m going to do."

Mihawk regarded him in silence for a moment, as though he were assessing something beyond words. Then, with a faint hum of approval, he nodded slightly.

"Maybe you will at that," he said, his tone carrying an unusual note of respect, "This world could use a few more wild cards."

Mihawk turned his piercing gaze away from Luffy, letting it fall to the green-haired swordsman lying on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. “Roronoa Zoro,” he said, his voice calm but commanding. “It’s too soon for you to die. Grow strong and come find me. I’ll be waiting.”

With that, and much to Y/N’s immense relief, Dracule Mihawk turned and walked away, disappearing into the distance.

Usopp hurried to kneel next to Y/N and Luffy, his face pale as he took in the sheer amount of blood pouring from Zoro’s chest.

“He’s losing so much blood,” Usopp said, his voice shaking with panic.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Luffy said firmly, though the determination in his voice couldn’t quite mask the crack of worry underneath.

“Hey, Zoro,” Y/N leaned closer, her voice trembling but insistent as she gently touched his cheek. “Can you hear me? Come on, hotshot, don’t do this.”

Luffy’s voice was softer now, he was smiling but his voice was filled with quiet resolve. “He said it’s too soon for you to die."

Zoro, lying in a pool of his own blood, let out a groan, his voice strained and heavy with pain. Every word sounded like it hurt to speak, but still, he forced them out. "Luffy... if I fail to become the world’s greatest swordsman… you’ll be disappointed. Right?"

Luffy immediately shook his head, his voice firm and unwavering. "You could never fail me,"

"Never… again. From now… until I beat him…" Summoning his last reserves of energy, Zoro gritted his teeth and unsheathed Wado Ichimonji, the sword trembling in his bloodied hand. He raised it weakly, his arm barely steady. "To become the greatest swordsman… I will never lose again!"

Y/N pursed her lips, worry etched into every line of her face as she watched Zoro’s arm falter. The sword slipped from his grip, clattering to the ground as his body went limp. He was out.

"Zoro?" Luffy’s voice broke slightly as he leaned closer, shaking the unconscious swordsman. "Zoro?! Zoro!"

"Luffy, stop!" Y/N grabbed Luffy’s arm, her voice sharp but tinged with worry. Her grip was firm, her eyes locking onto his with a quiet urgency. "Shaking him won’t help."

Luffy froze, his hands trembling as he pulled back slightly. Y/N turned to Nami, who was hovering just behind them, her face pale with concern and her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"We need to get him inside," Y/N said, her tone steady but urgent as she glanced between Nami, Usopp and Luffy. She pressed her lips together, her mind racing. "Now!"

They all nodded quickly, their hands moving instinctively to help as they began the careful process of lifting Zoro, doing everything they could to keep him stable. The tension in the air was palpable, but Y/N’s focus remained on the task at hand, suppressing the storm of worry swirling in her chest.

They couldn’t lose him. Not here. Not like this.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Lots of love. Be safe.

Also, tell me if you want to get tagged.

Divider by @cafekitsune

Tags: @weirdowithaphone

[orshii]

Destiny Awaits

☀︎ Pairing: Jeong Yunho x female reader ☀︎ Word count: 5,5 k ☀︎ Warnings - mentions of death, mentions of child abuse, necromancy

☀︎ Summary: The Sunrise Kingdom plunged into deep sorrow with the death of the King’s daughter. Desperate to bring her back, Yunho was determined to find a way, just like her father, the king. Will they succeed in restoring her to life, or will they ultimately have to let her go for good?

☀︎ A/N: Heyy, I'm back omg. I haven't posted in like two months, a lot happened in my life, but finally, I settled a bit down and I can get back to writing, which I really did miss because it was always like therapy for me. So about this story...One part of the story was already written years ago, it was inspired by Orianna's story (if you play LoL you will understand lmao) the other side was in a process months ago, so I finally put it together when this happened. I hope the POV's are understandable, let me know if it's not. The whole thing is not a big deal, it's just a beautiful story that means a lot to me. That is all, I guess, enjoy and I hope I can come back to writing more. Byee! xoxo orshii (divider)

Once upon a time, there was the Sunrise Kingdom, where only peace existed. The folks always respected their beloved king, who made everyone feel at home and fulfilled every wish they whispered into the sunrise.

The king had a sweet little daughter, Y/N, who loved to dance. Her heart was full of passion, and her soul danced to the sounds of the world. Her father loved her with every inch of his heart because he had no one left in this Kingdom besides his people.

Y/N's mother tragically died when she was born, as their souls switched places and her mother lived in her daughter's heart from then on. 

The king's daughter grew up in the blink of an eye, and she lived her best life. Her days were spent dancing around the castle full of sunshine and meeting with her best friend Yunho, who was the second most important person in the world. He was a boy who she met in the crowded streets when she was visiting their people with her father.

Yunho was a tall boy even though they were quite little when they met. His sincere smile which beamed only happiness, immediately made the little girl's heart warm up. He always wore clothes made out of cheap material, it was ripped here and there because they were overused, and his white shirt with some strings on its neck was always dirtied with soot and soil just like his face.

When she saw him for the first time, the boy was playing on his violin for the people passing by him enjoying the sound the instrument made, brightening their day up. A little black hat was on the floor as it waited for some pennies from the people who passed by. And when she heard the sweet voice of the violin, she immediately wanted to find the source of the sound. As soon as she saw him, the girl felt like she had become a new person that did not exist until that moment.

The boy played the violin with so much passion on his face she couldn't get her eyes off him. The boy's features were soft and he seemed in the girl's eyes, he was a person who would give you the world. She immediately started to connect with the boy with an invisible line that connected them like it was destiny.

 And the music he was playing...it was like he was playing with the strings of her heart. It was speaking to her soul and the sweet sounds of the violin full of sunshine and passion, made her little feet immediately dance.

She couldn't resist. The boy was playing the violin with closed eyes so he could convey the feelings that he felt about his life. The girl started to dance in front of him, spinning around with graceful moves with closed eyes, so she could convey her soul to the music.

It was like everything went black around them and the boy was standing there now with wide-open eyes as he watched the girl dance to his music with burning passion. He was in awe as he had never seen someone this passionate about something. It made him play with the desire to get to know this girl who danced full of life in her heart. As the boy watched the girl dance to his music, he imagined the violin's notes escaping from his instrument and the girl dancing on them, hopping from one to one like a ballerina, jumping in the air to catch the sweet notes of the violin, chasing them so it can light up her soul.

From that day, they became inseparable. They were glued to each other as they met every day. Sometimes it was the place was the poor and warm home of Yunho's and sometimes it was the rich surroundings of Y/N's castle. They grew up together into beautiful humans, no one could compete with their unique beauty.

Not until the world suddenly went quiet.

It was a dark and tragic day, even though the sun was shining with its full power. But when the king's daughter suddenly collapsed on the floor when she was dancing, the world became voiceless. It was deaf silent. The beaming sun hid behind the dark clouds and it never came back just like the girl's soul. As abruptly as it happened, just as abruptly did she leave this life.

The Kingdom of Sunrise became the Kingdom of Grief.

The king almost died of the loss of his daughter. The Kingdom was in mourning for years. While the people slowly got over the death of their beloved princess, the king was unable to. But something kept him going, perhaps the memory of his little daughter and the dear wife he loved so much. They lived in his heart for eternity.

Something felt strange—I was back in the throne room where I spent so much time as a child, sitting on the floor asking the maids to play with me, because I had no one else to play with. Only my father who was by my side every time his time let him. He was the king of Sunrise Kingdom; he was busy with the duties and responsibilities a king needed to keep.

The throne room looked the same, the main colors were light beige as the pillars held the ceiling that reached the sky, it looked like it had no end, and the beautiful landscape of the Sunrise Kingdom was painted on the walls by famous painters all around the world. There was one painting behind the throne, that was made out of glass.

This painting illustrated the most anticipated phenomenon in this Kingdom and it got its name because of it; the sunrise. This sunrise was beyond the imagination. When the sun decides to wake up early in the morning, it starts as usual; the sun rises, creating a breathtaking landscape, where it ascends from behind the big mountains, painting the land in yellow and orange colors. The mountains that are all around the Kingdom, embrace it, creating a protecting wall. But that is not all, as the sun slowly rises, suddenly it disappears and darkness swallows the Kingdom for a few minutes. This happens because the mountains are so huge that they block the rising sun, but as it climbs higher, the sun gradually reappears, making it look like the sun is rising two times in the Kingdom, painting the sky with light colors, awaking the folks to start their day as the natural miracle guides the way through the day.

This is the reason the Kingdom got its name, because miracles happen here and the people who live here believe in miracles.

And as I looked around the throne room, it felt like it wasn't real. As if I was in a dream, where I had no physical body. Then I spotted my father, sitting on the throne made out of glass, as his eyes were staring at the floor. His gaze was now dark and hopeless, that once was full of light and kindness. He was leaning to the side of the throne made out of glass, his head supported by his elbow. He looked like he wasn't in this world like he was lost in between the realms that were full of demons.

'Oh, my sweet, caring father, who was by my side since I was little, he protected me from the nightmares that hunted me in my sleep, from the people who tried to disown me from this world. He protected me from the world not letting the bad take over him. He was still a caring and lovable father, and seeing him like this made my heart break. I have never seen him in a melancholy, that made him forget where he was.

"My dear, father why are you so sorrowed?" I spoke with a soft voice, reaching my hand towards his face, where a single teardrop escaped his eyes. I reached my hands but as my fingertips were close to his face, it just melted into his wrinkled face.

"Oh, my precious little daughter…" My father sobbed into his hands; my heart shattered into pieces seeing him like this.

"I'm here, father, look at me." I wanted to lift his head to look at me, but my hands had no grip, it went through my father's face like it wasn't even there.

I was frozen in place, time stopped ticking, and my finger froze to his face where the teardrop fell over it like it wasn't even there. I looked down at my body, it was still me…but— something was wrong. My hands traveled to my chest, waiting for the familiar pumping of my chest—it did not come. Then I glanced at the throne where I could see my reflection and I saw myself but I was as white as a swan, my skin looking pale as I touched my cheek, the once pink lips were gone, almost looking white with a hint of light blue, my cheeks that were always blushing of how warm I felt, now gone. I was wearing a white dress that almost melted into my skin. The warmth of my body that the sun always filled up, now felt like the cold winter that always hunted the Kingdom with its icy weather and dark sky.

Once I was the embodiment of summer, now I looked like the cruel winter. It made me realize—I was not alive.

The king just couldn't get over his sweet little daughter's passing. It was torturing in a way that made him feel like it was not worth living anymore. He remained alone in the world he created alongside his daughter. They created this Kingdom together...and now the light of the Kingdom was not living with them anymore. The sun did rise two times in the morning, but its light faded away the longer the king's daughter passed away. The Kingdom went into deep grief, the once happy folks that went around the streets singing joyfully, now passed by each other not even looking at each other.

The king stood on the balcony of his massive castle, towering over the landscape like a shadow. Yet, it offered the people a safe haven, a place they could always run to whenever they felt unsafe. And that was the purpose of the king, so his people would gladly run to him every time they needed help because he wanted to help.

But looking down at his people, walking on the streets without joy, the sun not shining as bright as it used to be. It was like the weather was cooperating with people's emotions—who became slowly emotionless, which led the Kingdom to let the darkness embrace it through the dark clouds that never appeared there before.

The King had reached his limit—he would not abandon his people, nor allow his beloved daughter to die. He knew he had to ask for a favor. 

And that favor led the King to ride beyond his Kingdom to a wicked witch, who hid in the depths of the Sea of Tears. The Sea of Tears were piled up by the tears of people who only cried because of joy, they could make a wish if they cried, but only if it was because they were happy. The ones who were heartbroken, and mournful, had no chance in there, they needed to seek happiness just to wish for their deepest desires.

 The King and the witch encountered once, when the moon broke into two and when the stars poured like rain from the bright sky. The King saved the witch from a monster that wanted to suck the life out of her.

So, the witch owned him one. And the king went to ask for that favor. It almost took one year to find the witch and to make a deal with her.

Months later the king announced to his people a miracle that no one believed was possible.

My dearest people, He shouted as he was standing on the balcony of his castle full of grief.

Our Kingdom lost something so precious that is impossible to replace; our princess who is solely going to live in our hearts forever.

That is what I assumed, could make me live more than one day; but it was not enough for my breaking heart, I couldn't stand the pain anymore.

I struck a deal with someone so I could see my sweet daughter once more, perhaps even have her by our sides forever.

However, I need your dearest support in that; the witch of the Sea of Tears created a doll for me that looks exactly like my daughter. She helped me create my daughter, but there is a predicament.

My daughter's soul can find a home in the doll's plush heart, but it will only awaken if it hears pure music played on an instrument that once resonated with a passion beyond this world. 

This is the only way we could bring back our princess. I count on every one of you.

Let us bring her home, together!

Yunho’s pov

It was almost half a decade ago, that she died. The world has not been the same since. It went dark, happiness just stopped existing. Especially for me. She was the light in my miserable days, she was the person who melted my cold heart whenever she danced to the sounds coming from my violin. It made both of us burn with passion for music.

But she was gone, and it felt like the music died with her too.

I haven't been playing since that day. I just couldn't get myself to play on my violin, because it reminds me of her and my heart aches physically if I think about her. Because even though I played the violin, she made the music coming from it, live. It was magical when she danced. I always imagined her, with colours sparkling around her, as she spun around to the sound of my violin. As her big, blue eyes closed to feel the music, as her rosy lips curved up, as she always beamed happiness, the pink ballet shoes on his feet, that were worn out from the constant dancing, but she loved it so much, she would've never changed it to a new one.

I played on the violin since I could walk, I loved it because it made me disconnect from the world. I needed that, my father was beating me almost every evening, as he always came home drunk as a skunk, I didn't do anything but he just hit me and shouted into my face that the reason why our mother left us was me.

The reason is still a mystery why my mother left us, and I think I will never find it out. I needed to take care of my little brother and save him from our father, who slowly killed the humanity inside of him, from the wound our mother left behind.

So, I started to play the violin on the streets, hoping I could make a living from it. At first, people just stared at me. What did a little boy like me do on the streets with an old violin?

But as I started to play, they snapped their heads toward me, surprised at how good I was. People enjoyed my music and I enjoyed the attention and money I got.

And then one day a little girl came. When I saw her while I was playing, I couldn't breathe. She looked mesmerizing and when she started dancing, I felt like my heart was going to explode. We became friends from that day, as music connected our souls. We were inseparable, we learned a lot of things from each other, we played around a lot, we fought, then laughed. She was the sun in my dark world, even though we were living in Sunrise Kingdom, even though we saw the sun rise two times a day, she was my sunrise. And as she died, there was no sun for me anymore to rise.

It was almost three years ago, since the King announced the miracle, that the doll comes to life if you play an instrument with passion. When I heard it, I finally felt a little hope crawl through my soul. What is it, if not destiny, when music was the thing that connected us? I was so happy I could bring her back; I was sure if I played for this doll on my violin, she was going to come back to me. I didn't even think about the fact it might not happen, because it seemed so obvious, that I was the one who needed to get her back.

But she did not come back, she didn't even move a little. I was so desperate to bring her back, but when she didn't move, I just got so disappointed, in myself, in music, and in the King for giving us hope. I felt so angry I just couldn't control my feelings and I broke my violin into pieces along with my heart. Music was the only thing that connected us, but she was not here and I just couldn't play anymore, so I just left the pieces of my violin in the old room where the doll's blue eyes just stared at me unmoving, and I left not even looking back.

It was the fifth anniversary of her death; I was heading to the Lake of Freedom. It was our place with Y/N. We always played, danced, and argued here, it was special to both of our hearts and we knew we would find the other here if it was needed. This was the reason I came here every year on the day she died. It felt like she was there with me like a piece of her stayed in this place not being able to move on.

The lake was especially beautiful today. It was surrounded by colourful trees, as autumn was near the corner. It was a mixture of red, orange, and brown colours, and the leaves fell right into the lake, like feathers, as life slowly died out of it. The dead leaf falls upon the Lake of Freedom, finding its way out from the prison that is hanging on a tree for an eternity flowing away just to drown in the dark depths of the lake.

This was how I exactly felt since she died, I just couldn't find happiness anymore in my life. What could I do when the light that kept me going was now gone? How is it possible to move on? When the darkness that calls me is more comforting than trying to find the light, it's easier to just be and drown the emptiness of my chest.

"Excuse me, boy, for interrupting your train of thought…" I heard a voice coming from behind as I was sitting on the rock that we called 'The Theater' with Y/N, which is the theater of our imaginations.

I turned towards the source of the voice and I spotted an old man, standing with a white sack hanging from his right shoulder, his face was wrinkled from the ages, his back humped from, I assumed, the constant carrying things, he seemed he was a wanderer, who had his whole life packed into a rusty and big sack.

"Yes? How can I help you, sir?" I answered kindly, showing him respect.

"Can I ask you a favor, boy?" He coughed while approaching me slowly.

"Of course!"

"You seem like someone who can play on a violin." He eyed me up and down, as I was wearing my worn-out white shirt, with some laces on it, paired with black pants and my worn-out shoes.

"I haven't been playing in years, and I do not plan to," I stated. There was just no point in it anymore.

"Can you make one last exception for me and my wife?" He asked, deep emotions like grief and resignation playing on his wrinkled face. He saw my confused look so he continued, "This is the place where my wife died." He stated as his eyes wandered away to the dark lake. "We were in our late twenties when we were here with my wife. We played around, chasing the other, laughing around. We felt free, just as the lake's name says. But soon it became the Lake of Suffering because suddenly all I saw was my wife running away from me as I was chasing her, she got so excited she didn't see where she was stepping, she fell, and instantly hit the back of her head…" The old man's eyes welled up with tears, "She fell into the lake and it was too late for me to save her, I was too far away."

My breath was stuck in my throat as I imagined the traumatic story the old man told me. It's interesting how a place where you feel free and yourself, becomes a torture, like a prison with no windows to the world, just the dark.

"My condolences, sir." I tilted my head down a little as a sign of my sympathy. We both lost someone special in our hearts.

"She loved to play the violin, she always looked so beautiful doing it. And her music…it was nothing compared to this world." The old man stared into the lake as he said, a little life burning in him as he remembered his wife playing the instrument.

"I would be glad to play for her." I couldn’t believe what I said, but for once it wasn't for me, or Y/N. It was for a man who lost his lover—well I wasn't far away from that as well.

The old man's eyes sparkled as I walked next to him, seeing the end of the violin peaking from his sack. He nodded as I reached my hands towards it at that, and took it into my hands. It felt nice holding a violin after years, it felt like a piece of life got back into me. And the violin looked so beautiful. The touch of it felt like it was made out of rosewood, painted with the color of gold. It had sharp features with the right gracefulness. I have never seen a violin this mesmerizing.

When I lifted it under my chin and started to play on the string of the violin with the bow, I instantly closed my eyes and with that, I closed the world out as well. I played the melody that I played on the day I met Y/N. And it felt like I jumped back in time to that day and lived it again like a miracle. I saw her face clearly as the melody flew out of my violin on the street. The way her eyes sparkled because of the joy she felt. It took me back to that time and my heart started to beat as fast as that day. I watched her dance gracefully, but as my music got wilder and louder, she danced towards me and suddenly she disappeared in the black fog.

I immediately opened my eyes and the black fog wasn't in the vision I saw, it was all around us, the lake completely invisible, and the old man was standing next to me staring into the darkness like something bewitched him. I wanted to stop playing, but he pointed toward the dark fog and said, 'Look, don't you dare stop!' without even glancing at me. I averted my gaze from the old man to the fog as I was still playing, the melody got a little deeper, and sadder when I saw something sparkle between the dark mist. It seemed like a butterfly but bigger and it was illuminated with something that did not belong to this realm. Then it started to dance towards me, fighting through the darkness as some hands tried to grab it, but they remained empty-handed as they fought through the demons and got closer to me. I just couldn't breathe when that thing was fully visible.

It was her.

The girl I was craving for, the girl I lost and never got back. The girl who visited me in my nightmares just to turn them into sweet dreams. There she was, the girl I loved with my whole heart.

But something was wrong. It wasn't her entirely. She was pale, her used-to-be red cheeks were now as white as a wall, her rosy lips were now blue like the sky, and her eyes did not spark with life. It was her soul, that was slowly drying out.

"Y/N!" I whispered through my lips as I was frozen in place, but my unconscious still kept playing on the violin, because I knew if I stopped, she was going to disappear for good.

"Oh, Yunho, dear, I knew you could save me from this torture…" I heard her weak voice as she flew closer to me, she looked exactly like a ghost as she reached her hands towards my warm cheeks. I didn't feel her touch and as I looked into her eyes, it was full of tears that flew down her pale cheeks and it never landed on the ground.

I was breathing quickly, my heart pounded in my chest, the blood in my veins racing through my body, catching on fire as so many emotions got back into me that I did not feel since she died.

"Listen old man! You have to hurry up to the castle and call the King! Tell him to bring the doll he made for his daughter to the lake! Tell him Yunho might know how to bring his daughter back…" I told the old man who was standing next to me in awe.

"Hurry up, we don't have time!" I yelled at the man, as I started to get impatient, I didn't know how much she could keep up, I didn't want to lose her again.

I was still playing, I didn't even notice what I was playing, my hands were hurting but I did not care because all I could focus on was the beautiful face in front of me.

"I am glad you finally found me, Yunho." She smiled at me but it wasn't real, it felt like she just wanted to make me believe everything was okay.

"I am sorry it took me so long, Y/N…" One teardrop escaped my eye as she immediately wanted to wipe it off, but still nothing.

"No, Yunho, I'm okay, everything will be okay…" She whispered as tears fell on her cheeks like a waterfall.

I just couldn't watch her struggle anymore I knew she was fighting between the real and the dead world, she just needed a hand to pull her back to our life.

So, I just dropped the violin as sudden silence fell on us all I was hearing was her screaming, "No! Yunho don't st—," She couldn’t finish the sentence because she disappeared.

My heart was in my ears I didn't hear anything as I looked down at my hands. I was grabbing onto something. "Come back to me…please," I whispered into the dark fog, that slowly started to disappear. I felt something hold onto my hands, and as I looked down a hand was interlaced with mine and slowly a body started to appear in front of me, that looked human-like, that belonged to this world.

It was her again. But her hands now felt warm, her big, blue eyes were sparkling with life, her cheeks were red and his lips were back to their natural rosy color. She came back to me and I couldn't believe my eyes, she was so mesmerizingly beautiful like she did not belong to this world. But I knew she did belong to this world, beside me.

When I saw him, it felt like it was just the usual nightmares that I had dreamt through the years. My nightmares were always about him playing peacefully, then dark hands grabbing him, just to drown him in the dark mist. But the hands never came, he was still there playing with his eyes closed and it felt like we jumped back in time when we first met at the street. The sweet scenario played in front of me when the real nightmare started.

The black hands appeared, but they wanted me, not Yunho. I would gladly sacrifice myself for him if it came to him living peacefully. The hands grabbed me, I got used to it, I didn't know how long I had been in between the worlds but it felt like an eternity, it felt like I was never going to escape from here, I couldn't even die, let alone live. It was torture being there, and seeing my loved ones feel sad because of me, seeing them give up on life just because I died. It was not fair, because I screamed for them to let me go and live instead of me. But they just never listened and they slowly gave in to the darkness. My father followed the same path as Yunho.

And it hurt, it felt like I didn't matter because I did not want this. I wanted them to move on, but they just couldn't and then I decided, no matter what, I was going to come back to the real world, even if I had to fight against my demons. It was a long way and I knew I could trust Yunho; he was my only hope in the dark world I existed in.

And when he looked at me with those big doe eyes. I knew it was worth all the struggle I went through, it was worth fighting with the dark hands that got me in a chokehold, they chained me to this world between the living and the dead, they were feeding from my memories, from my screams, from me. But now, I only needed my last power to leave the demons behind. They were clinging to my back when Yunho saw me, they were trying to pull me back to the dark, whispering that I could never go back, that I was a fool, but I fought against them and didn't let them bring me back.

 The melodies escaping from his violin started to feed me with power as I reached my hands towards his face that I starved to touch, but never got to touch. He looked at me like I was his whole world, his face looked tired but full of care like the little Yunho I got to know.

Then he suddenly disappeared and a black hand on my mouth pulled me back to the dark fog, and I got lost in it again, drowning in the feeling of void, the feeling of nothing. I wanted to scream but the hand did not pull away as it pulled me deeper and deeper into the dark sea, where more demons awaited.

But something anchored me to the real world because they were struggling to pull me deeper, a bunch of black hands were pulling me by my right hand, but something so strong was holding my left hand, that it almost broke me in half. The anchor that pulled my left hand was so much stronger as I felt more distance between the black hands and me, they tried to reach me, but it was too late because sudden light hit my eyes that blinded me and I felt something hit my chest with a power that was the last blow I needed to get back into the real world. 

Then I fell into two welcoming warm hands and I felt like after an eternity of struggling I was finally at home again, in between the hands of the boy I fell in love with the moment I saw him play the instrument with a passion that immediately fired my little heart, and that fire never seemed to burn out, even when I wasn't alive, the burning of my chest made me keep going, made me feel even though it was impossible in between the two worlds. I did feel, that something invisible connected me to the real world, which led me to Yunho's warm heart, where the same flame was burning in his chest.

"You finally came back to me." I heard his sweet voice, and as my heart started to beat impossibly fast, I felt like I might die again.

"I came back to you." Then I kissed him on his sweet lips because that was the last thing, I needed to feel alive after being in nothing but cold without any feelings.  I finally woke up from a never-ending dream just so I could keep dancing to his melodies. I needed him to feel alive because he brought me back to life, that was impossible in this world.

But as you can see nothing is impossible in the Sunrise Kingdom, miracles do exist—because the sun rises two times as well; just as I did.

-Ateez masterlist-

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hey! 👋👋

Love the previous meta on Neville and Harry's friendship... Please share some light on the following text:

I think this idea is there, just not as explored as I would've liked it. It is just interesting that the Sword of Gryffindor chose Neville as the true Gryffindor but rejected Harry who is the Chosen One because he was chosen by the Heir of Slytherin. Idk, I feel like there is something there.

Anonymous asked:

In your last post about Neville and Harry's friendship, you mentioned something about the sword of gryffindor rejecting Harry, why? Also, would Harry fail to retrieve the sword in future if needed?

Hello to you too! 👋

Both anons are referring to this post.

Okay, so, like, I was just reading through the final chapters of DH when I was writing that meta, and it was something that I kinda thought about.

I mean, Harry says:

What was it, Harry asked himself (walking again), that Dumbledore had told him the last time he had retrieved the sword? Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the hat. And what were the qualities that defined a Gryffindor? A small voice inside Harry’s head answered him: Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart.

(DH)

The sword of Gryffindor could be pulled out only by a true Gryffindor. It's why Dumbledore's portrait tells Snape to hide the sword in a way that would force Harry to do something brave to retrieve it. The sword can only be retrieved by a true Gryffindor in need while committing an act of bravery. In book 7, we actually see Harry failing at the things that represented him most throughout the series.

He fails at being a true Gryffindor because he fails to retrieve the sword from the lake, Ron does. Symbolically, this marks Harry as not a true Gryffindor since he did the brave act, and it was not enough.

Harry also fails at casting a Patronus for the first time since the ending of book 3:

“But you can make a brilliant Patronus!” protested Ron, when Harry arrived back at the tent empty-handed, out of breath, and mouthing the single word, dementors. “I couldn’t . . . make one,” he panted, clutching the stitch in his side. “Wouldn’t come.” Their expressions of consternation and disappointment made Harry feel ashamed. It had been a nightmarish experience, seeing the dementors gliding out of the mist in the distance and realizing, as the paralyzing cold choked his lungs and a distant screaming filled his ears, that he was not going to be able to protect himself.

(DH, 248)

“come on, Harry!” said Hermione’s voice from a very long way away. “Patronuses, Harry, come on!” he raised his wand, but a dull hopelessness was spreading throughout him: How many more lay dead that he did not yet know about? He felt as though his soul had already half left his body. . . . “HARRY, COME ON!” screamed Hermione. A hundred dementors were advancing, gliding toward them, sucking their way closer to Harry’s despair, which was like a promise of a feast. . . .

(DH, 547)

Yes, he does cast one in Hogsmeade during this book, but I find it interesting he fails in this book at the spell twice. It feels important considering it's one of the spells that define Harry the most.

Harry is more depressed than ever and less of a Gryffindor than ever before in this book, even when he isn't wearing the locket. Book 5 is Harry at his most volatile (my favorite version of him) book 7 is Harry at his most shutdown and depressed. And him failing at the Patronus, one of his most iconic charms, is another sign of this depression and of Harry feeling less like himself. Less like the brave Gryffindor he was the whole series. He isn't any less brave, he's still so incredibly brave and strong — but he feels less brave himself, like his thoughts about himself.

Dumbledore died leaving him with a mission that feels too big on him that he doesn't even know what to do with. He has a very clear goal and no idea how to get there. Book 7 Harry is depressed, and desperate and feels defeated in a way he doesn't in the other books. There are multiple occasions in this book where Harry low-key wishes he was dead. That he wishes he didn't have to be brave.

His act of bravery when retrieving the sword wasn't one of noble courage but one of resignation, of wanting to get it over with. This is the type of bravery Harry has in this book. Yes, he wants to save people, but he also just doesn't care about himself all that much anymore and wants it to be over. To end. And the sword felt it.

So, yeah, I think him failing to retrieve the sword from the lake is a symbolic representation of that. Of the fact Harry changed over the course of the series and isn't the same true Gryffindor he was at 12. Trauma, loss, and pain changed him.

In the meantime, during book 7, Neville has the opposite arc. While Harry lost bits of himself and what made up his identity before (Gryffindor and his Patronus), Neville finds more of himself. When Harry isn't there he, Ginny, and Luna lead the D.A. and the opposition at Hogwarts. And when Luna and Ginny leave, Neville remains behind even when it's dangerous and keeps fighting.

He is so incredibly brave and strong and you see how he leads the students hidden in the room of requirement. How much they grew to respect Neville over the course of that year. How he protected others at his own expense and didn't give up. When Harry couldn't retrieve the sword, Neville could.

That's what I mean by Harry and Neville having subtle opposite arcs.

Neville builds himself up while book 7 Harry keeps getting torn down before finally he walks to his death.

I think, post-book 7, Harry would go back to being able to cast a Patronus reliably, but I feel like he might never be able to pull the sword of Gryffindor again. Kinda like a symbolic representation of something that died in him (not the Horcrux, I'm talking about trauma). It's why even though I want both Neville and Harry as professors post-book 7, I want Harry as Deputy Headmaster and Neville as Head of Gryffindor because he's the true Gryffindor that led the school when a Gryffindor was needed there most. Harry was a more distant figurehead, more a symbol than a person. Neville was the general on the ground while Harry was more of a king everyone rallied around. I don't know how to put it right, but I have feelings.

Like, this isn't an overt in-your-face sort of thing, but I felt like there's something there symbolically. Harry is still a Gryffindor, of course, he is, and always will be, but he says it best:

“And quite honestly,” he turned away from the painted portraits, thinking now only of the four-poster bed lying waiting for him in Gryffindor Tower, and wondering whether Kreacher might bring him a sandwich there, “I’ve had enough trouble for a lifetime.”

(DH)

He isn't a Gryffindor searching for action and adventure, he never really was, he always wished to be normal but took on the responsibility and sought out danger to save others because no one else would. But after everything, he feels even less like the adventure-seeking Gryffindor he is in the public's eyes.

These are just some thoughts I had while reading DH's ending 🤷🏻‍♀️.

[mochiwrites]

For the ask game/prompt, mayhaps #1 with Scarian? Could be in canon, one of your AUs, or any other AU you think of lol, no preference ☺️

01. Touch starved/cuddle curse (put that guy in a situation!)

reblogs do more than likes!

"How in the world have you managed this, Scar?!" Grian's indignant voice exclaims, echoing in the small space of Scar's train car. The avian looks down at the man currently pouting at him, a sheepish expression on his face.

"I-I don't know! Joel just gave me this potion thingy and -- and said it would be good for bonding with cOW!" As he speaks, he makes a grabbing motion for Grian, his pout morphing into a pleading look.

Grian pointedly takes a step back from Scar's outreaching arms, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Trusting Joel was your first mistake," he mumbles, sucking in a breath.

"He's a trustworthy fellow!" Scar retorts, "Besides, I don't see what's so bad about this arrangement... all I want to do is cuddle with you."

"That's exactly the problem, Scar!" The feathers of Grian's wings fluff up as he stares at his husband with a firm look. "I have building I have to do! Shops to set up, permits to not do! I also promised Gem I'd help her out with something in a few hours. I can't just stay here with you all day."

Scar's pleading expression only becomes stronger, his green eyes looking shiny as he stares up at Grian from where he sits on his head. "Please, lovebird? Just for a little bit?" He makes another grabbing motion for Grian, who finds his resolve rapidly crumbling the longer he looks at Scar.

"Nuh uh mister, I know exactly how this sort of thing goes. We both know it won't just be 'for a little bit,'" he answers. Grian's making any desperate attempts at keeping his denial firm.

But... he could just tell Gem he'd be around tomorrow. And it's not like the Permit Office is really ever open. They're only sometimes there to help anyway. And he still hasn't come up with any ideas for his mushroom stem shop.

"I promise this time I'll stick to it! Only a few hours, I swear on my hat!" Scar exclaims, eagerly nodding.

"Where have I heard that one before," Grian mumbles under his breath, fondness written into each and every word. He lets out a little sigh, "Alright, alright, fine. But only for a few hours! Let's hope this... cuddle affliction has run its course by then."

He takes a step toward Scar, and the moment he's close enough, a hand jumps out to grab hold of his wrist. Grian yelps as he's pulled right into Scar's lap, arms slinging around his waist. He steadies himself by gripping Scar's shoulders, finding the love of his life grinning at him.

"You should know I always want to cuddle with you." Scar shoots him a cheeky little wink, making Grian roll his eyes, a small smile upon his lips. "You just fit in my arms so perfectly!"

"Maybe that's just because you're a giant," Grian huffs, getting settled in Scar's hold. He moves to lay his head on Scar's shoulder, tucking it within the crook of his neck. "You're like one big teddy bear."

Scar squeezes him lightly, one of his hands moving to rest against the small of his back, right in between his feathers. The contact leaves Grian melting right into him with a content noise. "Am I a cute teddy bear?"

Grian snorts at him.

"It's the most important question I've ever asked you next to proposing, Grian!" Scar gasps in return, a serious look in his eyes. His green eyes sparkle with mirth, and pressed against him like this, Grian can feel the way his chest rumbles with hidden laughter. "I have to know if I'm a cute teddy bear!"

"Yes Scar," Grian sighs fondly, pulling back to hold the man's face in his hands, "you're a very cute teddy bear." He accentuates his response with a kiss to Scar's nose, "Although Jellie is cuter."

Scar makes some kind of ecstatic noise, pulling Grian down into bed as he rolls onto his side. Grian squawks at the sudden action, just narrowly avoiding his wings getting squished. "But of course! No one is cuter than Jellie. You come in a close second place though."

If it were anyone but Jellie, Grian would have complained.

Instead, he snuggles in close to Scar, wrapping a wing around him as they fall into a comfortable silence. Scar's arms are secure around him, and Grian thinks he'd be fine with laying here all day, wrapped in his husband's arms.

"Remember Scar, only for a few hours."

"Right, right! Only a few hours. Or until this cuddle curse goes away!"

(They go well over 'a few hours' together. Grian's communicator pings a few times, but it sounds almost silent over the pair's easy breaths as they sleep.)

[ilovetheriddler]

Birthday Celebrations.

(Arkham Games.) Edward Nigma x F!Reader.

Word Count: 744.

Contents: Some Fluff, Eddie's reluctant to admit that he cares, Kissing.

Eddie wasn't exactly even sure why he was willingly taking time away from his work to do this?! It's not like your birthday truly had any importance to him... or at least that's what he'd insist if ever asked. Truth be told, as much as he didn't want to admit it, he had grown to appreciate you and your assistance to him and his plans. So perhaps it wasn't the absolute worst thing to take a few minutes to make things a bit more... festive for your special day.

He decorated as he saw fit, It was a lot of the color green and a lot of question marks painted on everything, so more so what he'd want for birthday decorations and less so what you'd want. But for Eddie, this was still a lot of time and effort pulled away from his work to do this for you. He even went through the trouble of baking you a cake! Now... the fact that his kitchen wasn't fully working and definitely needed some work done on it did mean that it wasn't the most delicious cake, but it's the thought that counts!

You were actually somewhat taken back with surprise when you returned with the spare parts that Eddie had asked you to go retrieve for him. You honestly couldn't believe that he actually did all of this for you.

He was standing over next to the table, begrudgingly wearing a green party hat. You had to stiffle a laugh at how ridiculous it looked, but it also warmed your heart. He cleared his throat loudly.

"Well? I expect some type of excessive thanks for doing all this!"

"Thank you, Eddie, this is really sweet of you to do... I can't believe you actually remembered my birthday"

He let out a scoff sound as if he was slightly insulted by your expectance of him forgetting it.

"Don't be ridiculous! I have it written down with the rest of the important information I need..."

"Oh? So my birthday is important information to you, is it?"

"... Don't get too full of yourself over it.... i just... need it in there because you're my assistant... no other reason...."

You were a bit shocked and amused once you saw what appeared to be a faint pinkish red hue just barely present on Edward's face. Was he actually a bit flustered? The brilliant Riddler, flustered? It was unheard of, and you were enjoying the fact that you had been the cause of it. It faded after a bit, and his usual slightly irritated look resumed its proper place on his face.

"Now, I'll have to give you something at a later date because I simply didn't have any time to track you anything down as a present. Unsurprisingly because I'm quite a preoccupied man, as you're aware."

"How about a kiss?"

Your sudden request threw him off for a brief moment before he processed what you just asked for, and a somewhat smug look graced his features.

"Oh, so you want a kiss from me? I suppose i can't fault you for desiring such. After all, I am quite amazing... hmm... very well then, I guess there wouldn't be any harm in me allowing you such a thing... but... don't start expecting me to give you affection whenever you want, I don't have time for that!"

"Oh, of course... you're such a brilliant and busy man, Eddie..."

"Yes, I indeed am!"

After you had fed Edward's ego some more, he slowly backed you up against the nearest wall, his gaze intense and focused as he was clearly putting more thought into this than he'd ever admit, before crashing his lips into yours in a surprisingly somewhat desperate and needy kiss. Perhaps Eddie did need more affection than he let on? After what honestly felt like an eternity, not that you were complaining, he pulled away, his breath leaving him in heavy pants as he tried to regain some air into his lungs.

"Happy Birthday.... I guess.. I-I'm going back to my work! Batman isn't going to destroy himself at this rate!"

You watched as Edward made his way into his little workshop, clearly using it as an excuse to hide how genuinely flustered and worked up the previous moment had gotten him. You had actually got the one thing you really wanted as a gift, Eddie's affection, and with how rare that was, it was truly a priceless gift.

[jimhopperlova]

- Power Damage (18+)

18+ MDNI!!

Pairing(s): helping!jim hopper, helpless! fem reader

Summary: when reader comes home after a long shift at the diner, she finds her power is non-existent. she asks the local chief to help, but find out he helps in more ways than one.

Warning(s): large age gap (reader is 22, hop is 41), masturbation (f receiving), unprotected p in v.

i hope you enjoy! ive wrote something similar to this, but this ones a lot better. more love making than actual sex.

‘10 minutes and i can take a nice hot shower.’ you said to yourself, finishing up cleaning the tables you had. you had to be the busser and the server of course, cause why not? you sighed, continuing to look at the clock ahead of you. no, you can’t. the more you look, the more time went by slower.

it was nearing 10 o’clock, you of course having the closing shift. you didn’t mind as your boss was a nice gentleman. he always offered you free food, made sure you were comfortable in any setting, and if any customers got out of line, he was right there in tow. you couldn’t ask for a better boss.

“alright, looks like it’s your time to go. get outta here. get some rest.” speaking of, your boss had said to you as you finished your last table. you smiled brightly, the shower sounding more and more better as the day went on. you quickly put the dirty dishes and rags away where they needed to go, and quickly hung your apron up on the employee break room door. you hurriedly grabbed your winter coat, hat, and gloves. ‘warm shower, warm shower.’ you shouldn’t ask for anything too much, because then your hopes are shattered.

“what?! no!” you had managed to see that your power was off. the lightswitch didn’t work, and the oven didn’t work either. you wouldn’t be able to be warm. you did everything you thought you could to steer away from this very moment. you lived in the midwest, weather was always the worst. when people say it’s bad, it’s worse. and when people say weather is nice, its bad. there was no way of fighting off the inevitable.

great. now what? you weren’t about to sleep in your cold car nor your cold house. start a fire in the house? probably not the smartest idea. go over to everyone’s homes you know of and beg mercilessly to stay at their house until your power’s back on? better idea. but you knew that you would need to get the power back on, so you had managed to helplessly drive to the police station. you didn’t know of anyone capable of helping.. not even a handyman. maybe you can be desperate, especially when talking to the chief.

chief jim hopper was a regular at the diner. he stumbled across you one night when you were his server. clearly you made an impression on him, but of course, you are oblivious, so you didn’t really understand. until tonight when you are talking to flo, hoping the nice old lady would understand.

“listen, i.. i stumbled across a situation and i don’t know of any handyman in town. is there a way you guys could help me? i know you’ll probably tell to screw off and suck it up, but.. i really need your guys’ help. maybe give me a directory?” you asked flo in the most desperate voice you could. you were shaking of cold, and this situation just made things worse.

“ms, our hours are closed. we are only open for emergencies,” flo spoke to you, you looked at her in despair. but this was an emergency! you couldn’t be warm to save your life. maybe you could stay here overnight? pretend to be a criminal. break something. “but.. i can see what i can do.” flo then spoke. you looked at her with a smile, probably thanking her a million times. you sat down on one of the chairs, hugging yourself to try and keep yourself warm. you then watched as a door opened, and out came a tiring chief. you wanted to say hi, but things were more important right now.

“(y/n), what are you doing here? everything alright?” the chief had then asked you, and you could only smile lightly. things were alright you supposed, but you’re freezing in your boots. literally!

“oh, hey jim. yeah, uh.. everything’s fine. except my power’s out, as well as my pipes are burst. maybe i’ll just stay at a motel..” you told yourself. you hadn’t even considered that. you involuntarily facepalmed yourself at the thought of a motel. how dumb could you be?

“well.. i’m just headin’ out now. maybe i’ll stop by and check it out.” jim mentioned. you looked up at him with a wide smile. coming to the police station was the smartest idea you could have thought of.

“sir, you have a call waiting for you-“ flo started to interrupt, basically telling him not to help you. all hope was gone. he had a job to do afterall, not bother with your stupid pipes. oh. you didn’t think that could be dirty until you truly thought about it. your face emitted a deep blush, and tried your best to ignore it.

“it’s alright, flo. this shouldn’t take long.” jim said again, looking down at you as in a ‘let’s get out of here before i get pulled back into the office’. you smiled up at him and stood, leading him out to your car.

“thank you, jim. it really means a lot.” you told the chief who could only smile softly, heading to his blazer. you hopped in your nova and headed towards your home. you didn’t think anything would come between you and jim, so you only treated him as a friend. but you basically owe him a shit ton of favors for doing this for you. you didn’t know what you would do without the chief.

“yep. busted,” jim muttered as he looked underneath your home. you cursed to yourself, shaking your head. god damn it. curse your mother for having old pipes. your mother practically gave you this house in her will, and you had a three bedroom ranch house at the age of 21. being an adult sucks. “and the powerlines are froze. until they thaw out, you’re kinda stuck.” jim explained further, and you shook your head. of course. could this get any worse?

“shit. uh.. okay. i guess i’ll drive around town to see if any motels have vacancy. thanks for helping me, you didn’t have to.” you told the chief who could only shake his head and run his hand through his hair.

“save the gas. the one motel in this town is full. almost the whole town is outta power,” jim explained again, bearing the bad news. so the night really could get worse. you cursed to yourself about a million times before jim could only laugh. you looked at him in bewilderment, wondering what his problem was. “you don’t have any friends or somethin’ to crash with?” he asked you, his hands placed on his hips. you shook your head, hugging yourself again.

“nope. i’ve only been here for a year, if you can’t recall my sob story when you were last at the diner,” you explained to jim. you had a bad time shutting up about how you ended up in hawkins, especially when they ask you about how you ended up here. when someone was new to the town, it sparked up the whole entire town. you didn’t stop explaining where you came from for about a month. “i have coworkers, but they have kids and their house is full. that is if they have power. honestly.. i just need a warm shower.” you laughed softly, and jim lightly scratched the back of his neck, almost in thought.

“well.. my place is trashed. but if ya need.. you can stay. granted, i still have power and water when i get back home.” jim spoke. those were the words you needed to hear after a long debate in your mind of where to go. you smiled brightly and looked at jim with probably the biggest smile.

“oh my gosh, thank you so much! thank you, thank you, thank you!” you told the man and hugged him tightly, despite if he wanted to or not. you let him to and looked up at him. “i’ll go grab some clothes. i’ll be back.” you told him before heading inside your cold home. seconds later, you emerged with a backpack full of clothes for tomorrow and your pajamas.

“leave your car here, you’ll be safe.” jim told you. you couldn’t help but laugh and hop in the car next to the chief. the drive to his place was silent. you couldn’t quite place if it was a good quiet, or a bad quiet. but it was definitely an awkward quiet. meanwhile, jim was deep in thought. his mind continuously wandered about whether it was a good idea to bring you to his place or not. the last thing he wanted was to be judged, especially by you.

for some reason, you were never able to escape his mind. those small little talks and bright smiles at the diner did him dirty. maybe that’s why he continues to go there when he isn’t swamped with paperwork. your bright eyes and that widened smile pulls him right back into the diner, always making sure he left you a generous tip. you were young. and see, that was another problem. he was a 40 year old man, watching over the town, protecting it. you were merely 22, high hopes still ahead of your future. and maybe that’s why he has hesitated asking you out on a proper date.

finally, you two arrived at jim’s trailer. it seemed kinda homey on the outside. however, inside it seemed like a druggie’s fever dream. pill bottles, beer bottles, beer cans, dirty clothes, just.. everywhere. you weren’t expecting the chief to be clean by any means (he’s a busy man), but you didn’t expect it to be this dirty.

“s’cuse the mess,” jim spoke before he looked around and tried his best to move some stuff around so it wasn’t so messy. he didn’t expect to bring you to his trailer tonight, but if he had to be honest, he was glad he had the opportunity to. “you can place your coat and stuff on the couch for now.” he also instructed. you looked around and didn’t know what to say. nice place? nice.. bottles of beer? instead, you took the latter.

“uh.. thanks again for letting me stay. it was really nice of you.” you said awkwardly before disgarding your coat and hat and mittens. you placed them on the couch, feeling the warm air. finally.

“course. not a problem. uh.. bathroom’s over there. i’ll let you take the bed tonight.” jim spoke and you immediately looked at him. ‘i’m used to sleeping on the couch, anyway’ jim had said to himself internally.

“no, its okay. i can sleep on the couch, i don’t mind.” you smiled brightly before excusing yourself to the bathroom. you shut the door behind yourself, and looked in the mirror. you didn’t look too bad, but you didn’t look hot either. the stress made your forehead vein pop, and hopefully after the shower it would be alright. you sighed before disgarding your clothes you had on that day and grabbed the pajamas from the backpack, placing them on the bathroom counter. you turned on the water and felt the way the warm water graced your fingertips. ah. not enough hot water, though.

meanwhile, the chief was sat in his usual spot in the recliner. beer in hand, he channel surfed the tv. he was doing well, he thought. refraining from your good looks, doing his best to not stare too long. but.. could you blame him? it was you. and now you were in his trailer in the shower. naked. he tried his best to let the tv distract him from going in there and spying on you. he really was dirty.

finally, you came out of the shower. you were in a white plain t-shirt and some plaid pajama pants. the perfect outfit to keep warm. you noticed jim was sat in his recliner, watching tv. he was still in his police uniform, and obviously.. you thought the uniform was hot. his pants made his crotch area tighter, so if there was any chance he had any attraction to you.. you would know. the unform defined his muscles well, and he always demanded respect in it. you didn’t know, but you knew a power play was hot.

“i’m uh.. done. it was really nice, thank you,” you told jim softly, slowly reaching to couch and sitting down. jim looked over at you and nodded, going back to the tv. fuck, it was going to be awkward, wasn’t it? what could you do to break this silence thing? “uh.. how’s your job treating you? good, i hope?”

“what?” jim asked and looked at you. you shrugged and looked over at him, hoping to let him know you were just trying to start a conversation. “it’s uh.. same old song and dance. how ‘bout the diner?” he asked you, taking a drink from the beer can. he then reached for the pack of cigarettes, lighting one up. another thing you’re attracted to. the way the cigarette was in between his lips. fuck, you really wished you were that cigarette right now. “hello?” jim had piped up again, and you had to bounce back from your trance. you laughed and shook off the thoughts.

“sorry, uh.. was thinkin’. um.. it’s alright. i mean, it’s gotten better. i got a pay boost, and new clientel has been tipping better.” you told him. you smiled over at him, and jim couldn’t help but smile back at you softly. cigarette still in hand, he took another hit from the cigarette, letting the smoke exhale from his throat. he looked relaxed.. but stressed. you weren’t sure what that was, but you knew that he was kind enough to let you stay in his trailer. you shouldn’t pry.

“that’s good. glad you’re getting what you deserve,” jim spoke. a few more minutes and more staring at him smoking the cigarette, he finished what he was doing and stood from his recliner. he shut the tv off before turning to you. “alright, it’s ‘bout time i head to bed. please, just.. sleep in the bed. it’ll make me feel better.” jim ordered you. you sighed and nodded, standing as well.

“i’m sorry, i just don’t want to be a bother..” you said softly before jim could only think, ‘why would you be a bother?’ nope, personal feelings had to stay far away from his mind. “goodnight, jim. thank you again.” you spoke softly and slowly made your way to the bedroom. jim couldn’t help but watch as you walk to his bedroom. those pajama pants fit you well. he shook the thoughts away again and started to disgard himself of his uniform.

you fell onto his big bed. it was massive. it was cozy, and even smelled like him. despite the piles of dirty clothes and pill bottles everywhere, it felt nice. it would feel way better if he was next to you, though. you sighed and decided to try and fall asleep. an hour passes though, and you’re still awake. not only were you in a foreign place (you didn’t sleep well at places you never stayed at before), but your mind was wide awake. it wouldn’t shut the hell up. thoughts of jim coming in here and making sweet love to you wouldn’t leave. you did your darndest to not masturbate in his bed, but maybe it would relieve some pressure.

you sighed and slowly rolled out of his bed and slowly made your way out to the living room. jim looked asleep on the couch. you ducked behind the corner hoping to not wake him. he looked way less stressed. his eyes were closed, the way his belly went up and down from breathing.. at peace. but you could now get a better visual of him without his uniform on. and for some reason.. it turned you on even more. you swallowed past the lump in your throat and swaddled your way back into his bed.

thoughts danced in the front of your mind, not escaping the wandering of your eyes. what if jim came in here? what if he confessed his feelings and made sweet sweet love? you kept thinking of how he would taste on your lips. his beard would tickle you a little and he would taste of beer and cigarette smoke. but when his head ducked lower, the beard would tickle you even more. lower on your stomach, lower above your navel.. lower on your cunt that is aching to be touched. you swallowed and decided to give it a shot.

your hand ducked underneath your pajama pants, circling around the nerve that wanted to be touched the most. you imagined jim’s finger there instead, the thick digits circling around it. praising you on how good you were doing, confessing his love to you. you let out a soft moan, the thoughts swirling around in your mind. before you knew it, your finger danced around your entrance. you entered one finger inside of you, clearly that not doing much. thoughts of him telling you to beg for it, for him to add just one finger.

“please, please, jim..” you sighed out, begging jim in your mind. you didn’t think you would be loud externally, but it was loud enough for jim to stir in his sleep. he awoke to soft moans coming from his bedroom, curiousity getting the best of him. he stood slowly and walked over to his bedroom, almost forgetting you were in there. but the sight in front of him added a glow to his eyes he hadn’t seen in a long time.

sure, he has pleased lots of women in his spare time. but none of them could have compared to you. the way your hand was underneath your pajama pants, the way your eyes were closed with pleasure.. the way you moaned his name. and my, was that the sweetest way he could have heard anyone say his name. it was almost angelic the way you sounded. he had to palm himself at just the sight, but it came to a shock that he was already hard. what did you even do to him?

“please, i need you, jim..” you moaned out. fuck. jim was at a loss of words. he took a moment to run his hand through his hair, thinking what he should exactly do. he wanted nothing more than to replace your hand with his, whisper sweet nothings in your ear.. however, this was different. he had to remember his morals. “jim.. i’m- i’m gonna cum.” you shrieked out. he wondered if this was some kind of trick, and you weren’t really lost in your mind. except, you really were. you were oblivious to the fact that jim was spying on you. you know what? screw his morals.

jim slowly made his way inside the room, trying his best to not startle you. he wanted to surprise you if you really were about to cum to the thought of him. but when you heard footsteps, your eyes shot open. there was jim, standing there. right in front of the bed. had he been watching you? before you could make any excuse, his hand cupped your mouth. you looked at him with wide eyes, honestly afraid of what he might say. what he might do.

“shh..” jim shushed you, his eyes dancing down to where your hand rested. it was still there, but paused. he looked disappointed. “keep goin’. it’s okay.” he had whispered, and you looked at him confused. you didn’t dare question what he just told you to do. your hand started to rub circles at your clit again, that feeling of cumming being lost. you were startled, and you didn’t think you could muster up that feeling again. especially when he was watching you now.

“jim.. i need.. your help..” you whispered at him, looking at him with doe like eyes. the glow in them.. jim couldn’t resist. he slowly took your hand away, and instead replaced it with yours. his large fingers started to dance around your clit, adding that pressure you were so desperately after. you hummed softly, your eyes shutting softly. the same thoughts filled you, but with the man that was doing this to you, it made it all that much better.

“feel good?” jim whispered in your ear. you nodded desperately, your hands gripping at the sheets. you couldn’t control your moans at this point. you opened your eyes and looked at jim.. he was mesmerized by the way you reacted to his touch. he was curious to see how you would do with himself inside you. he slowly laid down next to you, so he had better access. the motions continued, but you needed more.

“jim.. i need your fingers.. inside me..” you spoke desperately, looking up at him. jim could only accept and nodded softly, one finger sliding inside of you. you moaned softly at the way his finger already managed to find your g-spot, it feeling all too good. he thrusted his finger inside of you, of course slow. he wanted you to be prepared for his cock.

“want another one?” jim asked you, and you nodded. he smirked softly before he looked down at you. he was simply drunk off the way you moaned for him. the way you yearned for his touch. “beg for me..” he instructed and you immediately obliged.

“please jim, i.. i need another finger.. need to feel you..” you moaned out, looking up at him. the two of you locked eyes, and you felt like you were about to cum. that familiar feeling was started to rise, but you needed just a little more to help. “p-please. need your finger to cum..” you begged once more, and immediately he obliged. the second finger added more than what you bargained for. you practically came immediately. “f-fuck, jim- i’m.. cum-cumming..!” you shrieked out, your hands gripping at the sheets on his bed. you were full of him.. his bed, his scent.. his cologne.. and now his fingers deep inside you.

“that’s it. you’re doing so good..” jim praised in your ear. he felt himself get even more hard at the way you spasmed around his fingers, if that was possible. his cock now ached for you. he wanted to be deep inside you, claim you as his. he didn’t care how young you were.. at this very moment, you are all he wanted. and will continue to be, no matter what anyone had thought. once you finished on his fingers, he slowly slid them out of you and licked up the juices. he looked down at you, and noticed how relaxed you were. normally, he would just stick his dick inside and be done with it. but it was.. you. no, he was going to savor this.

“jim.. need.. more of you..” you had managed to whisper out, despite how exhausted you were. you really did want more of him. no matter how overstimulated you got, you needed him inside of you.

“don’t worry, it’s comin’ sweetheart. just need.. to savor you..” and before you knew it, his lips captured yours with his. it was deep, hard, passionate.. and he tasted just like you thought he would. except, a more.. whiskey taste. you were drunk off his lips, the two of you moving in sync. your hand had then palmed at his boxers, feeling the way his cock ached for your touch. you were in heaven. “shit. don’t do that. i need to be inside you..” he hummed against your lips, not wanting to stop. your lips were so addictive. they tasted of coffee.. not only were mornings for coffee and contemplation, it seemed nights were too.

you moaned softly against jim’s own, your hands traveling from his boxers to his chest. hairy. but you didn’t care. he was groomed exceptionally well. his hairy chest fit him, and you were glad for that. eventually, jim took things to the next level. he laid you down fully onto the bed, him on top. he broke the kiss to look down at you, his blue eyes meeting yours. you looked absolutely beautiful.. he wanted you to know this.

“so.. beautiful..” jim hummed out softly before his head ducked down to your neck. he left feather-like kisses, before he left some on your collarbone. you moaned softly, before his hands had found the bottom of your shirt. you helped him take it off, and you didn’t think jim could look more happy until now. his head ducked down to your breasts now, twirling one nipple with his tongue. he made sure the leave equal attention to the other as well, making sure you were left satisfied.

finally, he was getting somewhere. you watched as he started to slide down your pajama pants and underwear. he flung them somewhere in the room, looking down at you. you looked up at him in wonderment, hoping he would do more. you nodded up at him, in hopes he would.

“please, jim.. please.. need to feel you..” you spoke softly, and this was all he needed to hear. he disregarded his boxers, leaving him naked in the moonlight. you watched as he stroked at his cock. it was thick, veiny.. it looked like the perfect puzzle piece.

“i got you. you’re all mine,” jim whispered out before spitting on his hand for lubrication, and then slowly thrusted inside of you. your eyes got big, and he wasn’t even fully inside you. “oh.. fuck. i’m not gonna last long.” jim admitted with a soft chuckle. you fit him so well. so wet, so tight.. it was fucking perfect. you are perfect.

“oh.. jim..” you moaned out softly. you looked up at him, watching the way he shut his eyes softly. when he felt you were well adjusted, he slowly thrusted in more. and eventually, slow thrusts in and out. he then leaned lower down at you, hitting that spot so.. perfectly. “mm.. jim.. it feels so good..” you moaned out, his lips captured onto your neck. his thrusts were gaining at a decent pace now, but he didn’t want to just fuck you. he wanted to make love with you. his hands found yours, and he gripped them tight. your eyes were now shut softly. you then realized.. this was the best sex you have ever had. it was more emotional, more intimate.. chief jim hopper really did have a thing for you.

“fuck.. baby, you’re so.. good. so fuckin’.. perfect..” jim moaned in your ear, getting high off of your own moans. the way you called out his name. the way you accepted his cock inside you. the way you wanted him, and the way he wanted you. with these thoughts in mind, he was getting close, and you were too. again. “i can feel you gettin’ tight.. you gonna cum for me?” jim had asked you, and you immediately nodded.

“y-yes, jim.. i’m gonna cum for you.. fuck it feels.. so good..” you had moaned again, feeling that familiar feeling in your tummy. before you knew it, you were spasming around his cock, you milking yourself on his cock.

“shit, baby. so good, so fucking.. good. can you take my cum?” jim had asked you, and of course you nodded. you wanted his seed deep inside you. you wanted to be his, and wanted nothing more than for him to claim you. with that, he felt himself become undone. your scent, your moans, the way you fucking breathed.. it was over. he emptied himself deep inside you, spasming around your own aching cunt. after he was finished, he laid on top of you, but not fully. he didn’t need you to be struggling to breathe.

“jim.. that felt.. so good.” you managed to break the silence after a few moments, and all jim could so was chuckle. he placed a kiss on top of your head, making sure that you knew you really were safe. with him.

“you’re more than welcome to stay again, y’know. anytime you want.” jim had whispered in your ear. that was his way of telling you his true feelings about you. he wanted you. and you were now grateful for those old pipes your mom put on the house.

[ghcstao3]

I saw your tags, you have challenged me!

Scary Show AU (cw for cannibalism and murder)

Ghost is a very well-known yet still semi-anonymous Voice Actor for spooky shit. There's a huge following for him because, regardless of what role he's playing, he does a phenomenal job. He's only listed in the cast list as "S.R.Ghost"

Typically he plays the role of the creatures in this super popular show called "Cryptid Season" which follows a gang of college kids desperate for extra credit in their Biology class so they hunt cryptids as evidence/to study for their papers. He does the voice over and some of the motion capture (he's a big dude) for the monsters and such, his most famous one being "Goatman" (from the demonic Goatman's bridge in I think Texas?)

Meanwhile Soap is this animator who's starting to become really popular, and he announces a new show in the work: "Consume", where he voices one of the two lead roles. It's presented as a show about a normal, if not very lonely man, being tormented by a demonic presence in his home.

Plot twist: dude's actually a cannibalistic serial killer and ends up quickly befriending the demon. The demon helps make the man harder to track by police forces in exchange for the bones and souls of his victims.

Cast:

Soap as the killer

Ghost as the demonic entity

Gaz as a detective who's new to the case but also best friends with Soap's character

Price voices the seasoned detective who's been working this case "too damn long"

Ghost and Soap ABSOLUTELY fall in love while recording scenes together. The banter, the flirting, the sexy scenario of cutting up a corpse together; it's too much not to fall in love irl

(actually such a big brain idea but I don't know how you'd write it tbh lmao. Maybe the show itself, where the boys keep their names? Idk the original idea turned into something much greater)

took a minute to figure something out i'm ngl but i did. something (in any case i would love to see your proper takes(s) if you'd be up to it, seeing as it's your idea!! i feel like i couldn’t do it justice)

-

Just like any other actor, Ghost had to audition for the role.

His agent books it for him without consultation, knowing the project would be right up his alley—horror, monsters, no face required—and Ghost makes no argument in sending in his tape. He recognizes this process and takes no issue with it, and once out of his hands, he waits patiently for a congratulatory offer or a gentle rejection.

Just like any other movie, or show, or what have you. Consume is no different.

Supposedly. At first.

John "Soap" MacTavish is... many things. He's charming, according to most. Talented. A joy to be around. A man who wears more than several hats of a project, which certainly tells of someone trying to worm their way into the commercial industry.

He has the spirit and creativity, Ghost will allow him that. But he also doesn't know when to stop talking as soon as the important work is done.

Is Soap professional? Sure. Does Soap make sure all jobs are done with efficiency and done well? Yes, he does. Does it make him any less of a nuisance to Ghost? Absolutely not.

But Ghost would be damned if the project doesn’t find its way into his soft spots, despite its nature. He’d be damned if he doesn’t fall in love with Soap’s animations and the hard work and craft he puts into them.

Then he blinks, and the pilot is premiering. It does well (again, considering its content), and Consume is properly green-lit.

Which is when Soap proposes the idea of recording their lines in the same room. Together. Facing one another. Because banter, and chemistry, and whatever other reasons he insists upon.

Personally, Ghost wants to decline. He’s always felt somewhat awkward when recording as such with anyone, but professionally? He couldn’t really say no, could he?

And it is awkward, at first. There’s more takes than usual, and Ghost can sense Soap’s frustration, though the man never expresses it. He just plasters on a tight smile, calls for a break, and pulls Ghost aside.

Surely, surely this is where Ghost gets fired. This is where Ghost is told he’s going to be replaced, where he’s told to say goodbye to Gaz and Price and wish them luck, and move onto his next gig. This is where—

“Have I done something wrong?”

Soap’s face is so earnest. So painfully sincere.

Ghost clenches his jaw. Shakes his head.

“No, I—“ He sighs. “Just have to get used to the… face-to-face. Let’s—I’ll try again.”

Soap smiles wider, now, as he nods, something kind and warm and brilliant.

The second try goes much smoother. Ghost takes a deep breath and eases himself into scripted dialogue, into witty banter and subtle flirts like it’s any other project.

They continue to record lines as such, just the two of them, each episode at a time. At some point, Ghost worries, the line between script and show and reality gets blurred. At some point, he fears, that flirting becomes genuine.

And what would he know—the reviews only get better as that line becomes less and less clear. Natural, real-feeling dialogue, critics say. The relationship is authentic, claim viewers.

The love is actually heartfelt.

And fuck, if that doesn’t make Ghost realize a few things about himself.

About Soap.

Consume is no different, his ass. He might have to have a stern talk with his agent in the near future.

(Or not.)

[coffeenonsense]

I usually try to stay in my lane most of the time (mostly bc I am far too old for fandom drama) but what the hell, it's friday, let's put that lit degree to use:

the way people are playing morality politics with fiction is really starting to genuinely irk me and I think some of the responses to ascended astarion are a perfect example of why this type of thinking is actually hugely detrimental to one's ability to meaningfully engage with fiction and also to the future of art.

astarion is one of the most well-written complex characters I've seen in recent years bar none (and I'm clearly not alone given the explosion of his personal fandom lol) and he has a truly compelling, emotionally resonant character arc whether you ascend him or not

If you keep him a spawn, you get a deeply touching, realistic character's journey to healing and personal growth where he learns who he is after the experience of his trauma and depending on the player's choice, explores his relationship to sex, romance and intimacy

If you ascend astarion, you get an equally emotional and well-rounded character arc where he chooses the power that allows him to have the desperate freedom and safety he's wanted, but in the process eschews any hope of real healing or personal development, and again, depending on the player's choices, restarts the cycle of abuse by taking cazador's place.

These options offer vastly different paths for the character and experiences for the player, but while yes, ascended astarion is the evil ending, and yes, ascending astarion is a tragedy, and a fucking incredible one (not only do you have astarion reigniting a circle of abuse but you have the narrative weight of KNOWING he could have actually overcome his trauma...hats off to the bg3 team tbh) but that does not mean ascending astarion MAKES YOU AS THE PLAYER EVIL

Ascend astarion because you love tragic story arcs, ascend him because you want to indulge in a master/slave vampire fantasy, don't ascend him because you want a healing character journey, don't ascend him because you want a sweet romance; all of these choices carry the same moral weight for the player, which is to say, none, because they are an exploration of fiction.

I know I'm saying this to the villain fucker website but it bears repeating; just because someone wants to engage with evil, fucked up characters or content does not mean they support evil acts in their real life, and furthermore, exploring dark, taboo or tragic concepts safely is part of what fiction is for. It enables us to look at those things from a distance, work through difficult feelings and develop greater understanding of what makes our fellow humans tick — and before you get it twisted there's also no moral issue with exploring fucked up media bc you're horny or just, because. You can take it as seriously (or as sexily) as you want.

It's starting to really concern me how many people not only do not get, but are violently opposed to this concept, because equating what someone likes in fiction with their real life moral code and actions is an incredibly dangerous and let's be honest, immature way of thinking that not only stunts your ability to engage with fiction but ironically, hampers your ability to deal with complicated issues and emotions in real life.

I don't know what's driving this trend (though purity culture is certainly playing a role) but it's definitely something that's not just impacting individuals but contributing to the commercialization of art, where we get games and stories and tv shows and books that regurgitate the same safe, mass marketable plotlines and character archetypes over and over and over again so corporations can squeeze out as much profit as possible.

Anyway, remember kids: There's no such thing as thought crime, reaching for morally pure unproblematic media is directly contributing to the death of art, and this is why funding the humanities is important.

[nerissalmao]

Ernesto De La Cruz: Tragic Hero (..in his own mind)

Well, at the time of posting this, it’s November 12th. That’s around Day of the Dead season, I think, though I’m as white as the snowflake that is my profile picture (I do enjoy learning more about other cultures though, so I’m glad to get educated and learn more) so you know what? We’re gonna talk about Coco. Yep, hands-down one of the best Pixar movies ever made, THAT Coco. Yes, I know there are arguments about it and Book of Life and which one is better, but I’m not here to talk about any of that.

Time to talk about this ABSOLUTE RAT.

Oohhh, look at him and his big stupid hat and his big stupid bow and his big stupid ribcage. He’s a fraud and a liar and an idiot and he kills people to take their songs.. AND take credit for them! Oooohh he’s stupid. I wanna punch him. You wanna punch him. Let’s all punch him! He’s a murderer, a liar, a traitor, he’s—

Not that bad?

WAIT. What?

Well, okay, see. This might be a little hard to grasp on to, but Ernesto De La Cruz is NOT THAT BAD.

To himself at least. Because to himself, his intentions are noble. He genuinely doesn’t see what he’s doing wrong.. because he’s always thought that this is how fame works. You have to make sacrifices. Then you get famous.

Let me explain.

See, when most people talk about this character, they bring up how terrible it was that he acted so nice and sympathetic, how dastardly in disguise it was for him to act like a nice person. People claim it’s all fake— he never cared for Miguel, he never cared for Héctor, he’s a psychopath, plain and simple.

But.. he’s not.

Look at him. It’s the stupid Hans thing all over again— his face. He genuinely seems proud of Miguel, of the idea he has a great-great-grandson. He shows him off to all his fancy rich friends, lets Miguel monologue about himself, excitedly shows Miguel around, even offer the kid advice. And he genuinely means it.

Of course, the reason people say he doesn’t is because for one, he LITERALLY murdered Héctor. Which, yeah, that sucks, so let’s talk about that first.

As we all know, Ernesto and Héctor were once best friends, two boys chasing the dream of becoming a musician. But Ernesto wanted to play for the world and bask in their adoration. Why? Because he just woke up and decided he deserved it? No, actually. He’s not exactly a textbook narcissist. Yes, he has narcissistic qualities, but there is plainly no evidence to suggest his friendship with Héctor was toxic. If it was, Héctor would have been less shocked to know that Ernesto poisoned him— because if Ernesto was shitty enough to bully and berate his own best friend, then aggravated assault and murder wouldn’t be too shocking for an already manipulative psycho. Yet Héctor genuinely was shocked anyway. And since Héctor’s a bit of a pessimist, it doesn’t seem like him to overestimate his ex-amigo.

(Yes, I know Héctor probably just didn’t want to believe that Ernesto was capable of murder either way. But come on. This man has had the entire afterlife to perfect his lying and his Dìa De Los Muertos Scheme. If Ernesto was that bad in the first place you mean to tell me a salty Héctor WOULDN’T consider the idea?! And he’s certainly a smart enough character to know when he’s being mistreated and when too far is too far, hence why he wants to return home to his family instead of abandoning them! And not to mention how he is totally unafraid of confronting Ernesto. I know that abuse and mistreatment comes in all shapes and sizes, but I don’t think this is the narrative we’re supposed to follow here.)

Ernesto genuinely valued Héctor. He isn’t a textbook narcissist because he recognizes the value and importance of Héctor’s ideas, and hoped to become famous with him by his side, as literally stated in Ernesto’s original plan. Look at the desperation on his face when he thinks Héctor is leaving:

He looks near tears. He’s practically BEGGING. And Héctor doesn’t even bother to give Ernesto any tips on songwriting or farewell wishes, he just kind of leaves. If anything, HÉCTOR is being the jerk here.

But honestly? We can hardly blame him. He was a caring father and a family man who just wanted to get back home. There’s hurt in his eyes, too.

Ernesto, on the other hand? He pushes the envelope too far. He kills Héctor for his songs. He already had poison on him for.. some reason, so what? Did he think he’d poison himself if he didn’t make it? Reputation and fame is very important to Ernesto. Yet it didn’t take him long to come up with the conclusion of killing his friend. Why? Is he really just that insane and am I talking in circles?

Nah. He tells Héctor, “I could never hate you” and it’s true! He doesn’t HATE Héctor. But he needs his songs. He’s been working so hard that in his mind, he just needs to take another step, to.. seize his moment.

He sees this as a necessary option. His reputation is important to him, and he doesn’t want the secret to get to light.. not the murder one. He just doesn’t want anyone to think he’s unoriginal, that he copied someone else’s ideas. Because he’s built his entire career around how talented he is. Because he’s the guy who “actually did it” and who wanted fame and fortune for.. what? Self-validation? He never seems to have any type of family to his name (despite the fact that his name is everywhere and everybody knows him), and even calls his audience his family, proclaiming the world is his family. Was he perhaps an orphan, or had parents who couldn’t care for him? Is that why he couldn’t understand why Héctor would leave for his family and gets desperate, than murderous? Because Ernesto himself never had a family to speak of or anyone to teach him values beyond his own musical dreams?

“Apologies, my friend, but the show must go on,” he says to Héctor, ready to kill Miguel— not out of any malice or hatred. Earlier in the film, good old Ern-DLC got the bombastic Disney Villain green motif all over his ass-

-as he proclaims that he knows deep down that Miguel, being his supposed family, should understand how Ernesto’s mind works. Since he knows that Ernesto sees the world as his family, since he heard Ernesto’s awkward “sì” when he was asked about whether it was hard for him to leave a hypothetical De La Cruz family that may or may not exist. He just throws Miguel into a pond (well.. he gets his security to do so) and there’s no evidence that he has no plan to get him out. He still thinks Miguel is his great-great-grandson. Yes, he put Héctor down there too, but he saw it as a necessary evil because he could do it before, and could do it again. Hurting Héctor just to reach his own fame.. and not seeing anything wrong with it. Seeing it as just another obstacle. Which is my whole point, that he saw nothing wrong with it, in case my rambling sidetracked you. Anyway, Héctor is being forgotten. Héctor could vanish down there, then Ernesto could go get the then-dead Miguel, get the kid to understand fully, and continue living his fame that he believes he earned while Miguel reaps in the rewards of having a famous great-great-grandfather and keeps mum about the whole Héctor thing.

People underestimate Ernesto. Look, fame is hard to achieve. Yes, Ernesto did steal Héctor’s songs, but he didn’t forge any documents. He got himself famous through interviews and acting, even if he had to steal some things along the way. He genuinely did work hard in any other regard, and of course he knows that one has to work hard to seize their moment. And though there’s no evidence to prove he ever hated Héctor, he had already worked so hard and wouldn’t fail. He tried to reason with him first, and his choice to poison him, though drastic, disgusting, and villainous, was what this admittedly tragic family-less man saw as the logical next step.

He literally says it in his villainous monologue: “I’ve worked too hard, Héctor!” “I am ERNESTO DE LA CRUZ!” (as he gets agitated at the idea that he’s a coward, as he’s already had to brave revenge plots against his own ex-best-friend, crazy fans, the pressure of fame, and his own twisted moral code) “I am the one who’s willing to do WHATEVER IT TAKES to seize my moment! Whatever.. it takes.” So, yeah. Listen to his monologue with this in mind. He thinks it’s the logical next step, he doesn’t see anything wrong with it— he’s willing to do whatever it takes. Maybe it even hurt him to take Héctor down. But he did it anyway, because in his warped mind, he thought it would be another GENUINELY HEROIC STEP to the fame he felt he deserved. He admits he worked too hard and seems to try to reason with Héctor again, though this time what he thinks is the right choice is obviously much worse; but by now Ernesto knows he has no family ties to Miguel. The show must go on, bruh man said it himself, and he wants his fame to continue.. because he WORKED SO HARD. He butchered his own friend to get where he is and won’t let anything stand in his way, or else what was that murder for? Then he’s just a psycho (to others; again Ernesto doesn’t really see anything wrong with it), a coward (he does NOT want to be called this, clearly), and everyone who always disbelieved in him is right.

Look at his face after the crowd realizes what he’s done:

Shock. Awe. Surprise. He genuinely doesn’t get it.

In Ernesto’s mind, warped by likely a family-less backstory, he thought that an inexcusable, regrettable action like killing his friend was made excusable since it would help him continue the journey to get the love and acceptance he wants and thinks he deserves. He did care about Miguel; he’s no blood-soaked killer. But he’s willing to do whatever it takes to seize his moment even so, because he thinks this’ll help him, even if he ends up regretting it later. He’s worked too hard.

It makes more sense for him to have been so morally flawed that he genuinely doesn’t get the consequences of his disgusting actions than for him to be so narcissistic that he thinks people would love him even after killing somebody. Because the movie Coco is so nuanced, Ernesto is purposefully tragic. He’s the next great Disney Villain, lying and conniving, but not reveling in the evil; like Claude Frollo before him, he thinks it’s a genuinely good thing to do on his path to stardom, that even though he genuinely cared about Héctor he couldn’t let him get in the way of his dream, and even though he genuinely cared for Miguel, knowing he’s truly not family will soften the blow of having to be rid of him in order to continue to reap the rewards of being famous without his dear reputation tarnished. Yet inevitably when it is, again like Claude Frollo, he doesn’t get it. Because he thinks he’s done good. He thinks this was just another path on his rite to stardom.

It’s why he just stands there wide-eyed instead of doing anything actually smart once he’s found out, or running away from the terrifying alibrije cat demon THING. Because he genuinely can’t understand why his so-called world-family would hate him. After all, they’ve always known he was a hard worker! And he doesn’t see why this news is any different.

Obviously I’m not condoning murder and attempted murder and the things Ernesto did. But this is my interpretation of the narrative and an interpretation that I think is worth reading through. The next time you hear “Remember Me”, the non-sad version, remember.. he’s either a tragic individual, so wrapped up in his own goal he doesn’t even know right-and-wrong from each other.. or an even scarier villain because of his inability to separate the two.

[nichenarratives]

Frozen Hearts

An Obscure Miniseries

In an attempt to raise Viktor for a job without freezing his tail off, Mordecai decides to drive in the thick winter snow, only to have an accident. Irritated his young triggerman continues to be reckless, Atlas orders him out of the speakeasy and into Viktor's apartment to recover, leading to some awkward conversations, situations and a whole lot of bonding.

1. Bad Idea

Winter takes Missouri in its icy grip early in 1922, suffocating foliage and freezing pipes with extreme prejudice. Even the evergreens seem to struggle, the ground frozen and barren around their roots refusing nourishment or water. Firs lining the streets begin to brown beneath the weight of snow and frost, only the most resilient trees retaining their green pine needles as February approaches, the felines of St Louis all desperately awaiting the thaw and arrival of spring buds.

Being temperate, the natives would say Missouri benefits from milder seasons than neighbouring states, yet Mordecai Heller would call it unfortunate to experience both. A native of New York, known for harsher winters and mild summers, most assume he would suffer more in heat. Unfortunately, equally affected by minor deviations from innate comfortable temperature thresholds, the shorthaired tom finds both to be unbearable in their own specific ways, especially the cold.

In the winter, he can't seem to wear enough layers to keep warm, not when conforming to his own strict requirements for propriety. There's only so many long sleeve vests and long johns one can squeeze beneath a suit before it starts to look awful, and Mordecai won't sacrifice appearance for comfort. His three piece, fleeced undergarments and a coat are all he will permit, but even with a scarf and hat, he feels the chill permeate his bones as soon as he steps outside.

Given the choice, the tuxedo would hibernate through the winter; woolen pajamas, thick blankets and copious cups of tea all take the edge off, as does attending a roaring fire in the hearth. Mordecai would wile the months away, reading through texts and classic literature until the snow and frosts were replaced with spring grasses.. if only he could.

A cup of tea and a blanket sound like heaven, he thinks as, with his collar turned up against the cold, Mordecai trudges through an inch of snow to the car. Unfortunately, the world at large doesn't share his hibernation sentiments and with the Lackadaisy Speakeasy blossoming in the years since prohibition, its liquor stores constantly need resupplying. Tes would be far more warming than that awful liquor…

An often hours-long round trip to trusted importers in a cold, metal death trap, Mordecai isn't fond of resupply runs. He'd much rather be burning storehouses to the ground, covering Viktor in raids or even the god-awful task of interrogations. Excessively long, silent road trips aren't exactly enjoyable, especially when his partner is crime has made it obvious he prefers the silence; and now, to top it off, he's going to be teeth-chatteringly cold while they're at it. 

Jamming the key into the car door, Mordecai unlocks the driver's side and slides behind the wheel, before taking a moment to blow into his gloves palms. He'd normally walk to Viktor's apartment a few blocks from the speakeasy and let Viktor walk back to get the car, but it's too cold; even inside the vehicle, he can't stop shivering, ears folded back to his head in an attempt to warm their icy tips and shoulders hunched against the frigid air.

When his breath seems to do very little to warm his hands, Mordecai gives up and guns the engine, hoping running the thing will create some warmth in the cabin. 

A terrible driver - having only ever been shown the basics in an emergency by Viktor, when he was too injured to drive and needed medical assistance - he grits his teeth when the gears grind as he forces the car into drive. A quick pause to check his mirrors, he steps a little too heavy on the gas and gasps when the car lurches forwards in his unskilled hands, squealing tires throwing up filthy snow as he careens out into the icy street.

It takes minutes to get to three blocks at one in the morning. Mordecai somehow manages to avoid hitting anything right up until he tries to stop. With no experience driving on ice or snow, he jams on the brakes and exudes a strangled murr of concern as the wheels lock and the car continues skating down the road at thirty miles an hour. When another attempt to brake fails and he rapidly overshoots his intended mark, the tom makes a final mistake; he swiftly turns the wheel.

The rear of the car swings wildly forwards, dispelling much of the forward momentum but carrying the vehicle onto its two passenger side wheels. For a brief moment, Mordecai is flying; clinging to the wheel as his feet are carried off of the pedals, eyes wide and mouth open in a silent scream while both gravity and basic physics seem to tip the car in slow motion, hat and pince nez in flight within the cabin.

Gravity wins; the Cadillac overbalances and with a distinct crunch, the wing mirror crushes against the asphalt, the entire right hand side of the car impacting on the road a millisecond after. Mordecai is haplessly thrown to the other side of the cab, wrenching his arms off the wheel and slamming his face, shoulder and right arm into the somehow still intact passenger window so hard, it shatters on impact.

The contraption skids across the cobbles, ten entire seconds of screeching metal and crushed glass piercing in an otherwise silent road until finally, it comes to a halt thirty feet away when it hits a light pole. Silence falls again; the light pole flickers and dies as if the sound were swallowed by the same darkness enveloping the scratched up, overturned car. Snow continues to flutter down around it, filling the skid tracks anew, coating the tragedy in white.

Mordecai daren't move; his head hurts, his face stings like a raw wound and he's seeing double, hazy vision swaying as if rocked by a non-existent breeze exacerbating his inherited myopia. Bracing a gloved palm on the broken glass beneath his face, the tom tries to lever himself up, but with his lower body wedged between the gear stick and dashboard and a leg bent against the cracked windscreen, his attempts are a futile waste of rapidly draining energy.

An overwhelming exhaustion turns Mordedai's sight black at the edges, dragging him away from consciousness. His arm dives way and he falls back to his burning shoulder with a weak whimper. Vaguely aware he can't feel his fingers and a weak attempt to move them, warm blood drips into an eye from an open wound on his forehead, turning his world an unnerving red just a moment before it fades to black.

~.~.~

The bobcat is attempting to fix a leaky faucet when he hears it; skidding tires, an ear-splitting screech of metal on tarmac, and a final crunch as two metallic objects collide outside. He pauses his work and looks towards the window, cracked just a smidgen for the luxury of fresh air despite the oppressive chill, contemplating going outside. 

With a palm splayed on the underside of the sink and his other clutching the wrench still in place on the leaking nut, it would be easy to go back to work like nothing happened. Having the window cracked might be the only reason Viktor heard it though, which means he may be the only bystander aware of an accident taking place. Normally, he wouldn't be so bothered; with the speed limitation on public vehicles - a limitation he'd effectively removed from the company car for illicit purposes - most people walked away from a crash with minor wounds, making bystander intervention pointless.

Unfortunately, he's also aware of the sub zero temperatures outside. Even as a bobcat, fully fleeced with a thick double coat for optimal heat management, Viktor can feel the cold seeping into his apartment through the window. If knocked unconscious or trapped within the vehicle, it wouldn't matter if the driver's injuries were minor; he could freeze to death in a quarter of an hour in this kind of weather.

Viktor closes his eye and sighing heavily, abandons the still leaking faucet, using the nearby armchair to rise to his feet with a grunt when his stiff knee complains. The cold is bad for his old joint, no matter how warm he seems to dress; his long johns, vest and woolen pajamas keep him adequately warm alongside his fur indoors, even with the window open.

He grabs a sweater off the sofa, then pulls on an overcoat and thick, leather boots, picking up a lantern along the way for good measure before he steps outside his first floor apartment and heads out into the icy night. The falling snow, expanse of white and empty streets momentarily stop him on the step, a litany of nostalgic memories of home assaulting his senses, but he shakes them off and treads carefully into the snow, lantern raised as he searches for the accident.

If no one is dying, he's going to be so pissed.

It takes a few minutes and a short walk to find it; a divot in the snow already filling up with fresh powder flecks, roughly the length of a car and extending beyond the range of his lantern. With a frown, Viktor steps into the divot and follows it back to an extinguished light pole, a Cadillac bent around the base almost exactly at the halfway mark. With the roof dented in the vehicle is almost comically banana shaped.

"Hello?" The Slovak calls into the darkness, holding out the lantern and turning up the gas, the yellowish hue making it hard to discern the car's actual colour. There's no reply, but he steps closer, walking around the back of the car for any sign of a hasty exit - a busted window, open door, blood on the frame - but finds nothing; if someone was inside the car when it crashed, they're still there. 

He treds through the snow towards the front of the car and sees a dark shadow crumpled against the passenger side of the vehicle, unmoving and not unresponsive. "Anyvone hear me?" Viktor tries again, but with no response, a bad feeling begins to swirl on his stomach. He almost doesn't want to step closer, but he does so, resting a palm on the upturned hood to shine his light on the crumpled figure. "Van't hel-?"

The bobcat's question dies in his throat when he's met not with a stranger, but the twisted, bleeding body of a familiar face; he assigned partner and coworker, Mordecai Heller. The snow around the broken passenger window is turning pink, while his contorted body is jammed between the gear stick and mahogany console, foot awkwardly braced against the windshield and arms in disarray around his head.

Viktor drops the lanturn to the snow, unaware of it toppling over, glass case protecting the flame within. Of all the things he'd expected to find - of the tragedies he could have borne witness to, attending this accident - the unconscious body of someone he cares about wasn't one of them. The feeling in his gut swiftly evolves part fear, conflicting emotions masked by a military-drilled compulsion to act quickly.

It takes a single strike for the compromised glass to shatter under his heavy boot. Glistening shards scatter, invisible in the snow except for the lantern's dancing reflections. Viktor pays it no mind and crouching down, reaches into the car to extract the smaller tom with as much care as he can, while still moving swiftly, well aware that stronger men have died of exposure after less time in blizzards back home.

Despite being manhandled in ways that would usually make him squirm, Mordecai remains limp and unresponsive as the bobcat pulls him from the wreckage. Glass clinks and falls from the tuxedo in shimmering, sparkling flakes, more still glistening in dark facial fur as Viktor draws him close to a broad chest and presses two fingers to his throat, holding his breath without meaning to.

Ba-bum... Ba-bum.

It's sluggish beneath chill skin, but there's a pulse. Viktor isn't sure if he's relieved or afraid, looking up at the empty street shrouded in white, not another soul to be seen. With no clear idea what to do beyond warming the tuxedo up and finding medical assistance, the bobcat shrugs off his coat to bundle Mordecai up, disconcerted that he doesn't complain or even flinch when obvious injuries are manipulated.

His best friend on the verge of death and swaddled like a newborn, Viktor draws the tom close to us chest and begins the three block walk back to lackadaisy. The nearest place he knows who have a phone to call a doctor, or a car he can use to drive out to Elsa, because he's not sure blankets and a warm fire will be enough on a freezing February morning.

[tev-the-random]

He expected to bolt upright immediately, like the rash man he was. Instead, Jimmy opened his eyes and sat up slowly — very slowly, at the pace of someone who couldn’t quite grasp their bearings. Like he needed time to process something as simple as the universal joke that he just experienced. Truth is, Jimmy had had a lifetime to understand that.

He should have known better. He should have learned not to be so naive by now, not to feed false hopes like they were a starving dog.

But he hadn’t learned. Maybe he never would.

And that was, perhaps, what hurt the most: that he allowed them in. That he wanted them by his side. That every time, without fail, he hoped for things to change. Just this once! Just this once they would get it, they would drop the blade instead of using it against him!

But it always ended the same way. So maybe he was just stupid.

What did he expect, really? For his friends to be happy for him? To somehow justify the trust he put on them? To finally tell him he’s worthy?

What a joke. Everything in his life was a joke.

He sighed. Although he deeply wished to bury his face in his hat and scream for all eternity, the best he could do was pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh. They had the hat, and it’s not like they would hand it back so easily. No, no, they didn’t respect him enough for that.

What even is respect, anyway? When Jimmy arrived at the mesa, he envisioned it as power: to be respected is to have authority, to dictate the rules. But as time went on, his expectations started to lower. In fact, some would say his bar had hit the floor.

To be respected is to be taken seriously.

To be respected is to be listened to.

To be respected is to not be antagonised and humiliated.

To be respected is to be seen as a person.

With the sensation that he would fall apart if he didn’t hold onto something, Jimmy grasped his bedsheets.

He wasn’t even a person to them, was he?

The ones he so innocently, so desperately called “friends” had clearly latched onto the idea that he was, for the lack of a better term, a plaything. Look at the tiny Sheriff and his tiny empire! Watch him get mad! Watch him try and fail to defend himself! Point and laugh at this pathetic thing!

Within only a few minutes, he had already embraced the idea that having someone else — someone as important as a real sheriff — tell him that he deserved legitimacy would be enough to earn him some dignity. All he really hoped for was a place amongst his peers, who only looked down on him, both literally and metaphorically.

But it was worthless, in the end.

His vision blurred at about the same time his lungs decided they were too upset to take in air properly. It took him a second to realise why: Jimmy had gotten used to the fact that, as a living doll, he just couldn’t function the same as he had before; surely, amongst other things, he had become incapable of shedding tears?

But here he was: breathlessly, shakily, undeniably crying. And now that it had started, it was hard to stop.

It was a well-known fact that Jimmy got angry much easier than he got sad. Screaming matches, hand hasty to the blade, petty plots that he would never manage to fulfil; it all helped push down his sense of self-awareness, this powerlessness clawing at his gut.

Right now, he felt as if a wave had crashed down on him.

He hated this fake body he was trapped in. Hated that he was smaller and more fragile than a child, that nothing felt real anymore, that he didn’t even have it in himself to bleed.

Breathing is such a basic task, why can’t he do it? Is it that he doesn’t actually have lungs or that he isn’t supposed to breathe in the first place?

He hated his own incompetence. No matter how hard he tried, he would always fall behind, crash and burn into the most pathetic of explosions. He had nothing to offer and he couldn’t take, no wonder he wasn’t allowed to have anything.

His entire body hurts. He hasn’t even done anything today, why does it hurt?

He hated that he could be so arrogant and selfish and that no one ever hesitated to point it out.

Heck, maybe they had a reason to bash him all the time after all! Maybe he missed all the shots he had. Maybe he deserved it, that had to be it!

He hated the way he always made a fool of himself and couldn’t even cover it up half-decently.

Oh, he hated this empty town, hated the mighty empires, hated his friends, those toys, the gunpowder, the bandits, the stupid Law and even stupider Lore! He hated and hated until he crumbled and there was nothing left of him.

And there really was nothing left. No one to fight for him or see the mess he’d made of himself. Not even Tango or Scar would stay by his side in the end, and the Old Sheriff was bound to follow, wasn’t he?

He was alone.

Jimmy cried until he couldn’t breathe anymore. He screamed into his hands until his voice was gone and clung to himself as a sorry excuse for comfort. And then he just laid there, drained and numb.

The sun was setting outside, its orange light peeking through his window lazily. He could just stay here, not get up; it’s not like he had anything important to do. But as much as he would like to disappear under his covers until his bones turned to dust, the idea only made him feel worse. Then again, someone once told him that it was good to breathe some fresh air when you’re upset, so maybe he should do that instead.

Dragging his feet, Jimmy left his bed and stepped outside, where a warm breeze awaited him. It wasn’t particularly refreshing; the sight of the blue walls surrounding Tumble Town gave him an ill feeling. Thankfully, it didn’t last long. It was replaced by confusion, for the horrible melody of a disjointed piano ringed across the valley.

“What in the world—”

Oh. Right.

If only for a moment, the thought of having a tavern bustling with people made him feel... less terrible. And although he knew that it wasn’t the case, that his town currently only had one citizen apart from himself, that was enough to pull him from his melancholic haze and towards the saloon.

He walked into the establishment to find the Old Sheriff predictably sat at the piano in the corner. His hat rested on top of the instrument, like the dear damsel to whom he was dedicating a song.

“Oh, there you are.” The old cowboy stopped his cacophony once he noticed the small figure by the door. “I was starting to wonder when you were coming back. Did you...” He eyed Jimmy up and down, “wrestle with your friends or something?”

All the tiny man could do, once again, was sigh. His face was probably still puffy from crying, and he guessed his wrinkled shirt and ruffled hair didn’t help giving off the most pristine of impressions.

“Or something,” he half-answered.

Without bothering to elaborate, he walked around the bar and opened one of the cabinets underneath. Behind a dozen or so empty bottles, there was still one with about three quarters of liquid left. Jimmy wasn’t one to drink often; he’d been keeping this last one around for special occasions, but he supposed it didn’t matter anymore.

The bottle was nearly as tall as he was. He dragged it all the way to one of the tables, which he climbed on top of before fighting to pour himself a shot glass. A few instants later, a larger cup tentatively appeared in front of him.

“Care to share?” The Old Sheriff asked, leaning against his table.

He nodded.

The two men drank next to each other without exchanging a word. The silence held a thin mental thread Jimmy was struggling not to snap. He didn’t know whether or not he was thankful when the Old Sheriff interrupted it:

“Your piano is out of tune.”

“What, is that supposed to be some kind of metaphor?” Jimmy’s intonation was flat, too tired to sort out any emotion to put into it. He tried not to think of a voice box. “Is there a second T in ‘respect’ now? For ‘tune’?”

“No, I mean literally. The piano’s out of tune.” The man gestured towards the instrument he had been playing.

“Oh.” The young sheriff awkwardly cleared his throat at that. “Um... I don’t really know how to tune it.”

“That’s fair enough, I don’t really know how to play it.”

With a shrug, the old man downed the rest of his drink, and was already pouring a new dose by the time Jimmy realised the corner of his mouth had raised the smallest amount. But that mild amusement quickly vanished, giving way to quietness once more. This one felt a bit too uncomfortable, staring at him as his mind continued to reel.

“It didn’t work out,” he murmured.

“Hm?”

“Your tips, the whole respect thing? Actually, I think they might respect me less now!” The tiny sheriff huffed, resting his head against the window behind him. Not that he thought it was possible for people to degrade him any more than they already did, but here they are.

“Huh. I dunno, maybe you just did it wrong. The R.E.S.P.E.C.T tactic has never failed me.” The Old Sheriff chuckled.

Jimmy couldn’t help but sigh yet again. He didn’t shout, didn’t splutter, didn’t even try to defend himself. You see, he wasn’t exactly angry. No, he had mellowed out for today. Staring down at his distorted reflection on the amber drink, he searched for a word that could describe this numbness; this burning sensation in his chest that made him look at the world around him with such disgust.

Hopelessness? Exhaustion?

“They killed me, you know?” He commented, then quietly added, “And they took my hat again.”

“Well, now that’s just rude!”

With a disappointed click of the tongue, his senior refilled Jimmy’s glass, despite it still being half full. He was already on this third cup himself; the bottle was significantly emptier.

Was that it? Disappointment? Disbelief?

“It’s not the first time, either.” Tim ran his hands through his hair in what could maybe be called exasperation. That still wasn’t it, though. “I’m really starting to think that I should... I don’t know, cut ties with them or— or maybe I should just leave. Find somewhere new to live. I can’t take this anymore, man.”

All he received in response was a soft hum. The past Sheriff stared at the wall somewhere above Jimmy, who wondered if he was even listening anymore.

“Tell you what,” the old man started a few moments later. “Why don’t you show me around them empires? I wanna see what’s changed. And if we happen to stumble upon any of those ‘friends’ of yours, we can show them what for, yeah?”

He blinked. Then he blinked again. And then he laughed, incredulous. His chest untightened the slightest amount.

“I— You— I mean, that— that sounds great, yeah! Sure!”

For the rest of the evening, Jimmy managed to push down the fog of that strange feeling by ranting to someone who would finally listen to him — more or less; he wasn’t sure the Old Sheriff was completely conscious by the time the moon was up. Something at the back of his mind told him not to get used to this by the time he went back home. It could always be a trick, a lie even. The irony of hoping that he could hope wasn’t lost on him.

And irony, much like everything else, would pull the rug from under him.

From the moment Fwhip saw the Old Sheriff and opened that cunning smile of his, he knew that the best of his bravado wouldn’t be enough. He would always fall back to bickering with his ex-deputy, whose verbal traps never failed to demean him. Oh, he tried so hard not to, but could he help it? Fwhip had the ease of pulling people in that Jimmy and his frantic arguments never would.

So maybe he should have listened to that thing at the back of his mind. At least he wouldn’t be surprised when his new partner got so quickly dissuaded from following him; wouldn’t bother going to Gobland or reminding them of his stance with Fwhip. It would certainly have spared him some heartache.

On the way to the goblin empire, the same jokes that had begun to cut so deep were laughed at. At the Drip, his inevitable boiling annoyance was taken advantage of. The slander went undefended and his call for assistance in the ensuing fight, unanswered. His possessions were teased out of his reach and given to a “real sheriff”. In the middle of all of this, his last ally, captured by Fwhip’s determination to take everything he could away from him, rubbed elbows with his enemies without giving him so much as a reassuring look. That’s when Jimmy finally realised what the feeling was.

Bitterness. Unrelenting, cold resentment.

Maybe he wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t commanding or assertive, nor was he easy to live with. Yes, Jimmy had a lot to learn, and he would. But he couldn’t fathom what could possibly made anyone deserving of such a world-shattering emotion. It was all so clear now, he didn’t have to put up with any of this! They don't get to do this to him over and over again!

This is bullshit.

And he’s done.

He didn’t even bother going back for his stuff when Fwhip killed him the second time. His armour, his tools, all of it was tainted with weakness and ridicule — he didn’t even have a badge or a hat to hand in anymore. In the end, there were very little items he cared to take with him.

The very same caravan he arrived in Tumble Town with was loaded by the time night had fallen. Norman had already leaped into the back without Jimmy needing to call him, and Bullseye was harnessed and ready to go. He briefly considered waiting for the Old Sheriff to return, but he didn’t think he could bear looking at the man at this point. By far, the biggest lesson he learned was that it wasn’t worth it getting attached.

Without anyone to say goodbye to, he left the empty silence of Tumble Town behind. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but the sheriff dream was gone — and so was Jimmy.