#me and my friends going to the colosseum of fools :)

[bitchesgetriches]

{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Saving Money and Being Frugal

We’re all in this together. Don’t give up.

On food and groceries:

How to Shop for Groceries like a Boss

Why Name Brand Products Are Beneath You: The Honor and Glory of Buying Generic

If You Don’t Eat Leftovers I Don’t Even Want to Know You

You Are above Bottled Water, You Elegant Land Mermaid

You Should Learn To Cook. Here’s Why.

On entertainment and socializing:

The Frugal Introvert’s Guide to the Weekend

7 Totally Reasonable Ways To Save Money on Cheap Entertainment 

Take Pride in Being a Cheap Date

The Library Is a Magical Place and You Should Fucking Go There

Your Library Lets You Stream Audiobooks and eBooks FOR FREEEEEEE!

What’s the Effect of Social Media on Your Finances?

You Won’t Regret Your Frugal 20s

On health:

How to Pay Hospital Bills When You’re Flat Broke

Run With Me if You Want to Save: How Exercising Will Save You Money

Our Master List of 100% Free Mental Health Self-Care Tactics

Why You Probably Don’t Need That Gym Membership

How to Get DIRT CHEAP Pet Medication, Without a Prescription 

On other big expenses:

Businesses Will Happily Give You HUGE Discounts if You Ask This Magic Question

Understand the Hidden Costs of Travel and Avoid Them Like the Plague

Other People’s Weddings Don’t Have to Make You Broke

You Deserve Cheap, Fake Jewelry… Just Like Coco Chanel

3 Times I Was Damn Grateful for My Emergency Fund (and Side Income) 

When (and How) to Try Refinancing or Consolidating Student Loans

The Real Story of How I Paid Off My Mortgage Early in 4 Years 

Season 2, Episode 2: “I’m Not Ready to Buy a House—But How Do I *Get Ready* to Get Ready?”

The Most Impactful Financial Decision I’ve Ever Made… and Why I Don’t Recommend It

On buying secondhand and trading:

Almost Everything Can Be Purchased Secondhand

I Am a Craigslist Samurai and so Can You: How to Sell Used Stuff Online

The Delicate Art of the Friend Trade

On giving gifts and charitable donations:

How Can I Tame My Family’s Crazy Gift-Giving Expectations?

In Defense of Shameless Regifting

Make Sure Your Donations Have the Biggest Impact by Ruthlessly Judging Charities

The Anti-Consumerist Gift Guide: I Have No Gift to Bring, Pa Rum Pa Pum Pum

How to Spot a Charitable Scam

Ask the Bitches: How Do I Say “No” When a Loved One Asks for Money… Again? 

On resisting temptation:

How to Insulate Yourself From Advertisements

Making Decisions Under Stress: The Siren Song of Chocolate Cake

The Magically Frugal Power of Patience

6 Proven Tactics for Avoiding Emotional Impulse Spending

On minimalism and buying less:

Don’t Spend Money on Shit You Don’t Like, Fool

Everything I Know About Minimalism I Learned from the Zombie Apocalypse

Slay Your Financial Vampires

The Subscription Box Craze and the Mindlessness of Wasteful Spending

On saving money:

How To Start Small by Saving Small

Not Every Savings Account Is Created Equal

The Unexpected Benefits (and Downsides) of Money Challenges

Budgets Don’t Work for Everyone—Try the Spending Tracker System Instead

From HYSAs to CDs, Here’s How to Level Up Your Financial Savings

Season 2, Episode 10: “Which Is Smarter: Getting a Loan? or Saving up to Pay Cash?”

The Magic of Unclaimed Property: How I Made $1,900 in 10 Minutes by Being a Disorganized Mess

We will periodically update this list with newer articles. And by “periodically” I mean “when we remember that it’s something we forgot to do for four months.”

Bitches Get Riches: setting realistic expectations since 2017!

Start saving right heckin’ now!

If you want to start small with your savings, consider signing up for an Acorns account! They round up your every purchase to the nearest dollar and save and invest the change for you. We like them so much we’ve generously allowed them to sponsor us with this affiliate link:

Start investing today with Acorns

[sxftkxssxs]

How would the main5 reader being related to Lucio? As I would have a field day with that information

I tried to balance lighthearted and serious thoughts in this one, it likely doesn't come across as well as I'm seeing it at the moment since it is late.

I hope you enjoy anyways!

Asra

Asra is appalled by this information.

You, the absolute love of his life, who was killed, albeit indirectly, by Lucio, are related to him? That's fucked up.

He's absolutely not happy. Lucio's somehow managed to screw with every part of Asra's life. His parents, Muriel, and his partner.

If you decide to play protagonist and try to make everyone get along, they'll tease Lucio to hell and back five times over with this.

It does not help that Lucio doesn't like Asra the most. Why'd his relative pick the worst one?!

He holds it over Lucio's head the rest of his life. He'll find so many ways to say the same thing over and over again.

"This is karma for throwing my parents in the magical realms."

Julian

Yikes, this one is a little hard to grasp for me.

He'll likely make some sort of joke or jab at the information but don't be fooled. He's processing.

He decides he doesn't really know what to feel, except for a reasonable amount of lingering anger, like any normal person would.

Lucio force-fed him a plague beetle, they aren't exactly on, "sorry we cool?" terms.

If you don't mind that you're related to Lucio he'll tease you about it, if not he'll leave it alone.

He's not gonna be very happy go lucky with him, but with you he's all teasing, especially if you indulge in his scheming.

Nadia

This woman cannot get a break, can she?

She's internally trying to see the resemblance but her ability to depends on your personality.

If you're an absolute menace to the living breathing world, she absolutely sees it. If not, she's at a loss for how the two could possibly be from the same family tree.

She doesn't see you or your relationship any differently, whatever she had with Lucio is in the very far past, but Lucio is throwing a fit.

Why are you with HIS ex-wife?? MC??? Hey! He's talking to you, MC!

Muriel

Yeah, no. sorry.

We all have to remember what that man put Muriel through. Muriel obviously held every single action that happened in that colosseum against Lucio. As he should!!

If we're talking about early Muriel he's immediately running from the MC. Get away, shoo!

If we decide to talk about late or even post-upright Muriel, we can have a different outcome.

He'll be upset, confused, and likely very apprehensive. Inanna is there as a bridge between the both of you.

He doesn't want to see you any differently, and he doesn't. But how can one relative be the absolute worst person to grace the earth and the other be the best thing to ever happen to him?

Portia

She's surprisingly only slightly bugged about it.

That is the man who force-fed her brother a beetle and gave him the red plague.

But if her brother can put it in the past then she supposes she can too. (But you can swear she gives Lucio the nastiest look when he isn't looking..?)

She still has some trouble fully letting it go, but instead of a full on grudge its more like when your friend doesn't pay something back. She'll just bring it up every once in a while.

Teases you about being considered royalty, even if Lucio isn't count anymore.

Lucio

He's having a field day, greatest day of his life even! He's sorta got a mini him!

...Until you start out-menacing him, even if its only in certain ways.

who knew that ran in the family tree? Morga is losing her mind in the background

[strawberrymintie]

The Bet

This is my half of a trade with @mikosmaw! She drew me art of my favorite voreish ship, and I wrote this short story of her gladiator, Lionel, collecting some spoils he won in the ring~ 

I hope you like it!  -------

Over the roar of the crowd chanting “cull the cowards,” Nicholas threw his wine glass to the ground. Flora winced at the sharp sound, though everyone else just laughed. They wouldn’t be responsible for cleaning it up, after all. 

“Damn it all!” Nicolas yelled, his voice slurred from all the alcohol that flowed freely in the colosseum's private viewing box. “Phoenix lost!?”

“I told you to bet on Lionel,” a fellow dignitary said. “Your man didn’t stand a chance.” 

“You’re lucky it’s just an exhibition match, Nicolas,” another said. “Your prize fighter will escape with his life.” 

“What does that matter if he loses!? Making a fool of himself at his own exhibition match... Pathetic.” Nicholas reached for his glass, forgetting he had shattered it moments earlier. As soon as he realized, he grabbed a bottle from the table and poured himself another. 

This was Flora’s least favorite duty as Nicholas’s attendant. The lavish parties she could handle. The political banquets were fine. But she hated when all the wealthy young men gathered together to watch gladiator matches. It always ended up with copious amounts of money tossed around--and often bottles or ashtrays literally tossed around. 

“Flora!” Nicholas yelled over his shoulder. 

“Yes, sir?” she answered, wondering what he was upset about now. Was it because she hadn’t started cleaning up the shattered glass? Usually she waited until everyone left to clean the larger messes. Heaven knows they’d just make more. 

“See that box?” He gestured lazily towards the back table. “Take it down to the Pit.” 

“What is it?”

“The money your stupid boss wasted on Phoenix!” one of the men yelled, and the others erupted in laughter. Nicholas rolled his eyes, letting the others rib him. Fellow members of the elite had that privilege. 

“Yes, yes, I lost, we all know,” he said, growing weary. “Flora, take this down to the Pit and deliver it to the winner’s team. This is what I get for putting my chips on the wrong man…” 

And, just like that, they went back to bantering, ignoring the lowly servant girl. Flora breathed out a sigh and walked to the back table. There was a lovely lacquer box sitting there that must have been worth a significant amount by itself. Flora picked it up. Heavy--likely filled with the money her employer had bet. 

“Don’t take too long,” Nicholas called over the clamor. Flora didn’t like the idea of going down so close to the arena, but anything was better than here, surrounded by smoke and spilled liquor and men who acted more like frat boys than VIPs. 

As she slipped out, Flora felt that urge she often had, that she could just run away. With this money, she might actually have a shot…

She shook the thought from her head. No, she’d deliver this down to the Pit and then return back to Nicholas. He’d probably be done galavanting by then. It would only take her a few hours to get the private box back to working order. Of course, the arena had its own cleaning service, but Flora would be ashamed to leave it in such a state for them. The least she could do was clear out the garbage and sweep up. 

When she finally arrived at the Pit, she stared at the double doors, a bit apprehensive. Who was this money even supposed to go to? Apparently, Nicolas hadn’t been betting against his friends, but someone tied more closely to the gladiator himself. A coach? A sponsor? 

Of course he’d forget to tell me the essential information, Flora thought. She tucked the box under her arm and used her free hand to knock on the door. 

“Come on in,” a voice from inside called. 

Steeling herself, Flora opened the door. “Pardon me,” she said, stepping in with a lowered head. 

The room was a mess, not too unlike the private box she’d come from. There were piles of large pillows on the floor, almost like a dog bed. Inside, there was only one person--the gladiator Lionel himself. He was more than twice her height, with huge horns and piercings everywhere. Not to mention, he had just trounced Phoenix, who had been touted as the best of the best. To say Flora was intimidated was an understatement. 

“Ah, yah got payment, huh?” Lionel said. Flora nodded stiffly. “Put it on the table. Close the door behind yah.” 

Flora hadn’t been planning on staying long, but she wasn’t one to refuse a request, especially on official business. She did as she was told, then walked to the table in the back. The table was cluttered with random items--bottles, bags with their contents spilling out, bunched up clothes, and a few suspicious stains. The housekeeper in her felt the urge to tidy up, but that wasn’t what she was here for. She brushed aside a few crumbs and set the box down, which looked almost comical in the mess. When Flora turned around she was surprised to see Lionel standing in front of the door. He was way bigger than the door. How did he even get in here? “Yah don’t look like the betting type, I gotta say.”

“It’s not from me,” she said, looking away. “The man I work for, he was betting.” 

“Good. I don’t really like people who bet against me, especially people who think that clown Phoenix coulda beaten me.” 

“I do not know much about arena fighting,” Flora admitted. “I am just here to deliver your winnings.” 

“Just deliver, huh…” Lionel raised an eyebrow. “So I don’t suppose he told you what he bet?” 

Flora looked over her shoulder at the table. “I, I assume it’s money in that box. I didn’t open it. I don’t pry.” 

Lionel laughed. “Yeah that’s part of it. Money’s nice and all, but I make sure I get a meal out of it, too.” 

“I… I’m not sure I follow,” Flora said. She absentmindedly reached up to touch the ends of her braids, twisting a few strands of hair between her fingers. 

“The losers I getta eat.” 

Flora’s heart felt like it stopped. She put a hand to her chest to make sure it hadn’t. 

She had to have misheard him. Or was it a joke? The thought had entered her head when she saw just how large and dangerous this man was, but that was just her mind running wild. It would never actually happen. That was just barbaric. 

“I guess he sent you instead? That’s technically allowed, I guess, but it looks like he didn’t even tell yah? That was shitty of him.” 

The gladiator began walking forward, tiny clouds of dirt raising around his hooves after each step. Flora tried to back away, but she bumped into the table behind her. A bottle on it tipped over, clattering onto the floor, but she didn’t even hear it. 

This couldn’t be happening. Nicholas would never do this. Not because he cared that much, of course, but because his life would be a complete mess without her! Now Flora was nothing that special. Certainly not irreplaceable. But she already knew his likes, his dislikes, what needed the most cleaning and when to start each area… Teaching a new housekeeper would be a hassle. Surely that was worth more than a stupid sports bet! 

…Right?

“Yer pale as a ghost, girl,” Lionel said, stopping in front of her. “I’ll be gentle with yah. I’ll even take these off…” 

Lionel opened his mouth, wide, and Flora saw the four golden rings wrapped around his teeth. Some sort of jewelry? With his sharp claws, he pulled them off, one by one, and dropped them. They clattered to the ground, one rolling under a table. 

“Better?” he asked with a toothy smile. Flora still couldn’t muster a single word. Even her scream was caught in her throat. She suddenly felt faint. She barely caught the edge of the table, keeping her standing up. 

“Hey, there’s no need to look like that,” Lionel said. His voice was still rough, unrefined, but it had a sort of sincerity to it. Enough that Flora looked up and met his eyes. “You’ll be just fine.”

“I… will?” 

The giant man crossed his arms. “Course. You think I’d just kill ya? You haven’t done anything to deserve that, have ya?” Lionel expected a response, but Flora just stared up at him, motionless as a frozen fawn. What a dick, sending his maid down. Not to mention a total cop-out. Scaring the shit out of rich assholes? Fun. Putting them in their place--his stomach? Even better. But this? Left a bad taste in his mouth. 

Lionel sighed. He wanted a meal, but… “Suppose I could just hunt down the guy who set this whole thing up instead.” 

“No!”

Flora’s sudden outburst surprised both of them. She hadn’t expected that to actually come out. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “No… Please. He sent me to do this, so, if it really is safe… I will.” 

“...You’re sure about that?” 

“I pride myself on my service,” Flora said, finding the strength to stand without support again. “This… This is my duty, I suppose.” 

Lionel paused for a beat. Well, it was still a shitty situation, but if she was willing, he wasn’t going to turn down a meal. He’d been looking forward to it ever since he heard one of those rich idiot actually bet against him. Unfortunate he didn’t have that guy to humble, but this girl was not a bad snack. She smelled interesting--lightly floral, but hidden under a layer of smoke and booze. No doubt from having to babysit those bozos upstairs. 

An interesting smell. He wanted a taste. 

“Well then. You ready?” Lionel asked, trying not to loom too threateningly. It was hard when you were as big as he was. 

Flora took a deep breath. “Yes.” 

Lionel scooped the young lady up in his paws, keeping his claws retracted for now. She was light as a feather. He flopped down on his pile of pillows, ready for his hard-earned meal. Now, where to take a taste-test? 

“Hmm…” Lionel looked at Flora, who seemed so small in his hands. She didn’t look terrified, but certainly unsure. Her hair, tied in two braids, left most of her neck exposed. Not a bad place to start. 

He leaned in and took a long, slow lick, feeling the human shudder slightly under his tongue. She tasted light, pleasant. Clean, for lack of a better word. Basically the opposite of himself. He slid his tongue back in and clicked it against the roof of his mouth, savoring her flavor. 

“Not bad at all,” he muttered. “You know, uh…?” 

“F-Flora.” 

“Flora. You’re pretty tasty.” At that, the girl blushed a light pink. Lionel chuckled. Didn’t seem like she got that many compliments if that got her bothered. “Yeah, your flavor��s, uh, delicate. That’s the word.”

Delicate flavors didn’t leave you content after just a taste though. Flavors like hers needed to be consumed in large quantities to really shine. Luckily, there was enough to fill his belly staring right back at him, and Lionel was ready for more.

Tucking a finger under each arm, Lionel lifted Flora up, opening his mouth wide. She stared down his throat for a moment, still barely processing what was going on, until she was jolted back to reality by the feeling of his warm, wet tongue on the back of her legs. 

“Hmmm…” Lionel purred, the sound vibrating in his throat. 

Flora’s heart pounded, but she wasn’t completely seized by terror. This felt oddly comfortable. As his tongue reached the back of her knees, she could only think about how it felt warm and soft. Almost like a bed. 

Someone like her never had a chance to sleep in. She was always up early, getting everything ready for the day. She could only dream of having no responsibilities, no one depending on her--needing her--to get through the day. If this was really safe, and she really would be released unharmed, was it crazy to find the idea of just being able to rest inside of this man appealing?

Lionel would never be this popular if he actually digested people, right? Flora always tried to trust what people told her, even though this one was hard to believe. But she wanted to. And it made sense. Nicholas would never want her dead, and Lionel… He seemed kind, despite all of this. He would have let her go. At least, he said he would have, and--

Lionel’s stomach gurgled expectantly, wondering what was taking so long. The delicious morsel had spent more than enough time in his mouth. It was time to send it down to where it belonged. 

Lionel almost didn’t want to, but he had plenty more of her to taste. So he gave a powerful swallow, pulling Flora down. Her legs were sucked into his gullet and suddenly she slipped further down into his mouth. With his lips around her waist, Lionel licked her sides, enjoying every moment of her flavor. He purred again, louder this time, and Flora looked away, for some reason feeling embarrassed herself. 

I suppose this is a form of service, she thought, to both Nicholas and Lionel. 

Now that she was in his throat, Lionel’s stomach grew more impatient. It growled once more, wanting to enjoy the meal, too. Lionel swallowed again, pulling her further in. Now only her chest and head were outside his body. He placed his hand under her top half to support her, though she was stuck by now. She couldn’t have escaped if she wanted to. 

Lionel carefully pushed his hand backward with his tongue, replacing her solid ground with one much softer. He made sure Flora didn’t scrape her back against his teeth. They were fun to show off, but they were very sharp, and she could easily get shredded by them if he wasn’t careful. He stuck his tongue out past her head, cradling her upper body before swallowing again, pulling her body further down into his belly and her head into his mouth. 

One or two more swallows should do it. With a tiny bit of regret, he threw his head back and gave a final, powerful swallow, forcing the girl down his throat. From there, the waves of peristalsis took over, effortlessly carrying her to his hungry, awaiting gut. 

Lionel leaned back further, feeling his stomach distend as she was squeezed down into it. For such a small girl, she gave him quite a nice gut. Just round enough to have something to rub. 

“Not so bad, huh?” Lionel asked, panting slightly to catch his breath. 

Inside his stomach, he felt Flora wiggle, trying to right herself. The walls were soft and squishy, close like they were embracing her. They moved around her, his stomach happy to finally have her all to itself. Lionel had to admit, he loved feeling her squirm, trying to get her bearings, though he was happy when she finally settled down, too. “Comfy?” he asked. 

The voice was from both above and all around her. Flora could hear the man’s heart, the air in his lungs. And she didn’t need to do a single thing. She couldn’t do a single thing. 

“Yes,” she responded. 

“Good.” Lionel stretched, then placed his hands on his belly. He couldn’t help but rub it. It felt amazing. 

Flora startled slightly as Lionel began rubbing his belly. (That, too, felt pretty good.) She wasn’t used to receiving care. It wasn’t comfortable for her, not yet, but it was… Nice. She snuggled down into the gladiator’s belly, content. 

“So,” Lionel said before either of them could fall asleep. “That guy, his name is Nicholas?” 

“Mmhm…” Flora usually would never respond so casually, but she was so tired. It was all she could manage. 

“...I’m still gonna go scare the shit outta him.” 

[featherlouise]

certainly have, up to the point that ss usually goes. occasionally stops at the resting rounds to talk with the seer, who gives me these calm old lady who would listen to you talk for hours (my way of saying she’d be a therapist for the scamp) vibes. despises the pale king with a burning passion after the man left to get milk abandoned them and all the other siblings after hollow was chosen. finding and confronting pk about this (along with thrashing pk around for like 10 minutes) is the major character goal atm. aside from all the daddy issues… probably has a good bit of banter with the little fool before and after rounds of slaughter in the colosseum. would probably have loved to chat with the nailsmith if it didn’t stay in the general area of kingdom’s edge, resting grounds and far right of the city. probably could strike up a small chat with salubra while shopping, which is how it got the longnail and steady body. if it encountered hornet while she was exploring or setting up the hornet 2 arena they probably would bicker and fight a good bit before calling a draw and becoming neutral/ allied to one another. i could probably keep going if i gave ss the courage to go on long explorations throughout hallownest, which is basically me saying that’s all i got so far.

Ooh this is interesting!! Love that their main goal is to beat up their dad lmao, and I'm glad they have some friends/allies!! Bby doesn't deserve to be alone

[dailyhollowknight]

[punkhazardlaw]

OP SPOILERS AHEAD (DRESSROSA)

Okay, I never write posts about anime and how I feel about them. But Oda, as an author, really, truly encapsulates every facet of incredible plot writing.

I have to admit, I knew that the ASL brothers were just that, brothers, because I had that spoiled for me. I cannot even imagine how I would be reacting right now if I didn't know Sabo was alive, because even knowing Sabo is still alive I'm in shambles. I just watched the episode about Sabo showing up to the colosseum battles and approaching Luffy so they could switch places, allowing Sabo to use Luffy's disguise to go win Ace's devil fruit. The lead up to this (in the anime at least, I haven't looked into the manga panels) was breathtaking.

Sabo's initial reveal has suspense and is not entirely blatantly obvious at first glance. WE know who it is, but do we? Is it a Sabo lookalike? An imposter to fool Luffy? No. It's fucking Sabo, in the flesh. Luffy thought Sabo literally died all those years ago and has been living with this guilt that him and Ace could've done more to try to save him. Luffy has lived how many years thinking that one of his sworn brothers was dead? Twelve. 12 whole years. The anime doesn't show Sabo's face during the initial reveal episode (663), but shows his classic style of the top hat and goggles, the dress coat, the blonde hair.

Luffy joined the colosseum fights to preserve the honor of Ace's devil fruit, even though he can't even use it. The flame-flame fruit is the last physical memento of his pressumably-only-living brother, his role model, his childhood best friend, his found family. Can you imagine the emotions he must have felt first knowing that Sabo was alive after 12 fucking years, let alone that his presumably-assumed-dead-now-actually-alive brother would like to take his place to obtain the flame-flame fruit? And this sworn brotherhood wasn't some childhood phase, as we see with Ace and Luffy throughout the show. They call each other brothers, they believe more than anything that they are brothers. Sworn over sake, the ASL trio took their promise to heart. Now, yeah, Luffy is a little oblivious and doesn't think to explain the whole brotherhood situation, even though people know or have heard through the grapevine that Ace and Luffy have different fathers, but does this phase him? Of course not. "Yeah that's my brother." Full stop, no need for explanation, take it or leave it.

There is no one in the entire OP universe that is more deserving of this fruit in Luffy's opinion, and Ace agrees, you know he feels just as strongly about this situation as Luffy does in the afterlife. Sabo is alive, Ace is dead, and the flame-flame fruit is within reach. Oda writes incredible stories and phenomenal characters which is blatantly obvious throughout the entire show, but THIS moment broke me in the best way possible. This show has truly changed the way I read or watch any form of media for the rest of my life.

[greentrickster]

Guys, I messed up.

I stumbled my way into the Kingdom’s Edge and then the Colosseum of Fools. And I found Tiso!

And I said hi, because he’s my friend Tiso, and I thought- I honestly thought that, as long as I didn’t exhaust his dialogue, he’d just stay here, safe of the bench, for the rest of the game.

But I was wrong.

Just interacting with him at all has him go take his try in the Colosseum sometime during or after you’ve attempted a trial.

I messed up.

I know he’s supposed to die, I know- I know with how his character is, there’s no way he would have stayed on that bench forever. He would have gotten up eventually in-universe, and gone to chase his goal. But, as long as he was still there, on that bench, I could have pretended that, if he watched long enough, he might have had second thoughts... I know I couldn’t have actually saved him, but I genuinely feel sick.

I know I can’t save Myla, she attacks me when I see her now.

But I thought, for awhile at least, I could keep Tiso safe.

And I failed.

I’m sorry, Tiso. I guess we both got cocky. And we paid for it.

[kattartsblog]

Rated M

Warnings: Angst, Implied Depression, Death, Violence, Swearing, and Implied Bullying

“Oh come on, it’s obvious. You have a thing for Melone.” Sorbet said playfully while nuzzling under Gelato’s head. Ilona blushed and hid their face in their paws, “No way, it’s never going to work out! After all, he’s probably not interested in me like that!”

“You never know until you try.”

“But what if-”

“Listen, Il. Promise us to at least try to talk to him?” Ilona looked down nervously, Gelato gingerly lifted Ilona’s chin. “And if he breaks your heart, we will twist his arms for you.” Sorbet reeled in Gelato slowly back to his side, “Or… treating them the medicine for all broken hearts.” A small breathy chuckle came out of Ilona’s mouth, “Sorbet, you liar. I know you would never spend a single lire on me.”

“I know, but this time it’ll be different. I promise.”

XXX

1999, a day after Sorbet and Gelato’s service, Ilona stayed in their room mourning their loss. They had put 3 euros next to some of Sorbet’s belongings on his night stand. Ilona turned around and sigh, “You were wrong Sorbet, I told you so. Here’s some money for that gelato.” Ilona clicked the lock inside the door, taking a good long look at the room one last time, they silently said goodbye before closing it. They could feel the tightness in their chest. Was this really what it was like to be full members of the mafia? Then again it made sense, they stepped out of line and they were punished. But this was far worse than normal torture. The way they died was like something out of a horror film, Ilona could only imagine how afraid for their lives they must have been.

A small hiccup of air came out of their mouth as they walked towards the group. “Door’s closed, now what?” Ilona squeaked, Risotto pats their head as a sign of approval. “There’s nothing we can do.” Prosciutto jeered, “We just keep our heads down, until then don’t cause any trouble.” Everyone nodded in agreement, except for Ghiaccio. Ghiaccio balled up his fists, the room got colder as he gritted his teeth. La Squadra knew he wanted to freeze something, punch a wall, or scream at the top of his lungs. But he didn’t, instead he unclenched his fist and briskly walked out of the room. Ilona looked on in worry, was this how it was all going to end? This feeling happened once before, but why did it hurt so much more? Is it because they knew them well? This was the first time they had felt something more than pain.

XXX

Mostaccioli and Radicchio followed Ilona to the edge of Napoli where they were face to face with a hidden door on a brick building with a sign reading ‘Libeccio’. Mostaccioli scratched his head in confusion, “Really, you want to have a meal now?”

“No you dummy, there’s a guy here who could possibly help. And honestly I hate to do this.”

The duo looked confused, but then Radicchio realized who they meant and quickly blocked the door. “No, you’re not going in there.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Ilona, Buccirati’s dead.”

“Fat chance, that’s impossible!” Ilona tried to shove their way past but Mostaccioli caught on and tugged their coat collar back, “Possible, he’s been dead since he betrayed the boss.” Ilona looked back up at him confused, “Bruno Buccirati, the man who killed my friends is dead? Who told you this?”

“It made the news 2 weeks ago, Bruno Buccirati was found dead in the Roman Colosseum.” Ilona slumped over, their one and only chance for answers gone before they even began.

The door to the restaurant opened with a waiter peeking from behind, “Hey, are you coming in or what, you fools are blocking the door.” The 3 of them reluctantly walked in and asked for a private table, Mostaccioli showed off his Passione badge. The waiter’s eyes widened, “I didn’t know he was expecting guests, please right this way.” The waiter guided them to the back room where a group of people were sitting; a boy with light hair and holes in his jacket, a guy with a hat, and another young man with golden hair. Ilona immediately recognized the guy with the hat as Guido Mista, but did not recognize the other two. “Well well, the infamous rabid monster of the assassins. It’s been a hot minute.” The golden haired boy raised an eyebrow in confusion, “You know them?”

“Yeah, don’t worry Giorno. They’re a good guy, right? No hard feelings?” Ilona looked away rubbing their arm, they silently went to sit at the table and motioned Radicchio and Mostaccioli to do the same. But as Ilona pulled out their chair they saw a turtle. “Oh, sorry little guy. I didn’t know this was your spot.”

“That’s alright.” said the turtle. “Whoa, a talking turtle! It’s like one of those cartoons on TV. You know, like the ones named after famous Italian artists?” Radicchio punched Mostaccioli’s arm.

“That’s Coco Jumbo, and the voice who spoke is a soul named Polnareff.” Mista replied, Ilona gingerly handed him Coco Jumbo and sat down properly in their chair. They looked up at the boys across the table and calmly began to speak, “My name is Ilona Liquirizia, I’m known in Passione’s underworld as the Executioner's Rabid Monster. I was an unofficial passione affiliate and lived alongside La Squadra di Esecuzioni.” Giorno furrowed his brow, Ilona continued, “They were killed by the late Buccirati and his men. I’m not sure if you are aware of this fact as a fellow affiliate of the syndicate.” Giorno nodded, “I am, We were there when most of them happened.” Ilona’s heart began to pound fast as a rush of anxiety flew through them. “Although I did not know about you. Why did you not go after the boss’s daughter?” Ilona clenched their fists, “I was ordered not to get involved, for safety precautions.”

“I see, and why should I care? They were vile men who were blood thirsty for money and glory, they betrayed the famiglia.” The air of arrogance from this Giorno made Ilona’s blood boil.

With a deep breath, Ilona gave an answer, “They were my family and they deserve better.” The light haired boy stood up from his seat with fury in his eyes, “They deserve nothing, they were psychotic murderers. Only wanting to kidnap the boss’s daughter for their own benefit! We were terrorized by them for 2 days straight, from morning til night with no rest in between!” Ilona slammed their paws on the table, tears began to well up, “They were desperate! How would you feel if you were working hard and all they gave you was lint and a button? Because that’s what happened. And the one time we tried doing anything; it cost us 2 members to be captured, cut up like a Christmas cake, and the body sent to our house in 36 containers with a little card saying ‘Punishment, this could be you’!” Radicchio and Mostaccioli grabbed Ilona on either side and tried to sit them down.

“Well that’s the life of a mafioso, deal with it!”

“Fugo, that’s enough.” Giorno chimed in, “Clearly, you have a lot of feelings towards them. I respect that, but it doesn’t explain why you decided to come here.” Ilona looked back up, trying their best to regain composure. “I want the money that the boss was withholding from us, some form of compensation as my own vengeance, because right now La Squadra died for no reason. But I heard from these two that the boss was replaced.” Radicchio and Mostaccioli watched on with extreme caution, something about this Giorno guy seemed very suspicious. Giorno then asked Mista to give him the turtle, grabbed a large suitcase from the turtle’s back, and placed it on the table. The entire room fell silent, Radicchio and Mostaccioli were almost about to scream, Mista and Fugo looked very distraught, and Ilona couldn’t help but hold back tears.

“According to the records we were able to recover from Diavolo’s backlogs, he was giving them 10% of their actual worth. This is 25 million euros, half of what we had left for La Squadra’s payment.”

“What happened to the rest of the cash?” Ilona asked, Giorno looked to the side in shame, “He used it to fund the former Sezione Droghe and their endeavors. I’m very sorry.”

“Hang on a second!” Radicchio yelled, “Just how did you get that money, who do you think you are?” Giorno looked at the group with a very warm yet serious look in his eyes, “My name is Giorno Giovanna, I’m the don of Passione.”

[createandconstruct]

can i ask about amarant coral? the monk in red himself~

Can you ask about Amarant Coral? *cracks fingers* Oh I insist that you do. Welcome to my Amarant Appreciation Post:

favorite thing about them: First off best thing about Amarant? His theme. The percussion and the guitar. It’s great and it captures him so well. People out here like “take Amarant out of the game he adds nothing.” EXCUSE ME? You remove the Amarant you remove the Amarant Theme my friend and that is something I do NOT vibe with. 

least favorite thing about them: I wanna know more about him. Now Amarant doesn’t need a backstory or history in the game. In a sense, he already has one that connects him to Zidane and explains his motives and actions and eventual arc. But my issue is, Square never gave him anything else. If you look at Ultimania there’s additional lore about other characters, like Steiner for instance. You learn Steiner was a war orphan who was saved by the Pluto Knights - explaining his devotion to them. Amarant though? Square was like “uh... yeah he was born....? And then he uh got famous...? Idk then he met Zidane. You figure it out.” Square. I hate you. 18 years from his birth until he became “well known”. WHAT WAS HE DOING. WHY’D HE BECOME A SECURITY GUARD. WHAT WAS ON HIS RESUME. TELL MEEEE. Like, okay, what the actual in-game canon gives us on Amarant is sort of enough. He’s a purposely written mysterious “cool-guy” character so we’re given scraps to make him unknown but come on. In the published after-game canon, like Ultimania, we could have been given a bit more. He says he doesn’t remember anything about his origins or parents, but why. Was he another victim of Gaia’s wars? Probably. Was he born on a battlefield? Fighting for his life, living without comrades, taking scraps whenever he could? Was he betrayed when he was young? Is he a supposed to be a version of Zidane had he not been adopted into Tantalus by Baku??? These are questions I deserve answers to, Square.

favorite line: “’I can't just walk away. It goes against my nature...’ You're a real simpleton. Forget it, guys. There's no stopping this fool." I love this. Amarant figures Zidane out pretty quickly after Ipsen’s Castle. Zidane is hardheaded and also an actor. He acts cool and pretends his reasons for doing things are loose but when he’s decided something it’s always for a reason. You don’t need a reason to help people, but Zidane has his reasons for helping Kuja and while Amarant doesn’t give two shits what they are he knows Zidane won’t be stopped because, despite everything, Zidane saved a loser like him. Also this line “Tell me! Why didn't you kill me!?" Because I quote it all the time and it makes myself laugh. Amarant is such a drama queen and Zidane knows it. Zidane’s like “dude... what is your damage, it’s 5 pm on Tuesday in Madain Sari. I ain’t getting blood on my gloves cause you’re having a temper tantrum.” And then Amarant runs away to have an existential crisis. He’s 26 but compared to Zidane, he’s the real teenager with angst.  

brOTP: I could talk about Zidane or Freya with Amarant but instead I’m gonna say the underrated dynamic of Amarant and Eiko (and also Vivi).  Amarant with the kids is truly the greatest gift given by his presence in the game. Amarant has never known true suffering until he became a designated legal guardian of a group of minors. It also kills me how he’s the one to volunteer to carry Eiko and Vivi up the Iifa tree. He looks at Zidane and is like “you have seriously been the ‘adult’ of this group???”

OTP: Gotta say the Freya and Amarant dynamic. I really enjoyed their unlikely friendship in the game but then the content. The fan content. The Freya x Amarant fans out there, you win. Ya got me. You captured me and I am now imprisoned by their banter and begruntled allies to lovers story. Even if they’re not romantic I love them together and really wish the game gave us more of them. But even Lani and Amarant together are valid, though I prefer them as butting head bros. Not much content for my girl Lani out there either, she deserves more.

nOTP: Nothing I can think of. I tend to like platonic pairings for Amarant. The dude needs friends because he can barely define the word friendship.

random headcanon: Before Zidane returns at the end of the game Amarant wanders around a bit, unsure of what to do. He doesn’t feel any place with the others in Alexandria, Burmecia, or Lindblum. I imagine he goes off on his own for a bit like before but this time he’s not after Zidane or a fight. Instead he’s got no particular destination. Yet he somehow always finds himself running into people just like him - or the old him - friendless lonely people who are looking for a fight. He doesn’t go out his way to find these folks he simply runs into them and decides he might as well knock some sense into them. He does however make it his business to go after any murmur of people hatching any ideas of going after the far off little village on the Lost Continent. The home of the genomes and black mages. They were so helpless, so weak that anyone who’d want to mess with them is pathetic in Amarant’s book. Until Zidane returns, no one has the chance to even look at the Black Mage Village the wrong way because in the shadows Amarant lurks, making damn well sure of that.

unpopular opinion: I kinda love that he’s just there for most of the game? While I agree he gets the short end of the stick in the same way as Freya, not receiving additional individual character spotlight (which could have very well been supplied through discoverable lore in the world/npcs or through sidequests) I never considered his “standing off to the side” as a detriment to his character. 

Many would probably agree that Amarant always felt like a bit of a parody of the loner character, or at least the stereotype of the loner character. Amarant is so easily paralleled with Squall and Cloud’s surface-level attitudes because his dialogue always felt like something to poke fun at. As the player we’re supposed to align with Zidane’s way of thinking and how he views Amarant. When Amarant loses to Zidane and pretty much grits his teeth and goes “KILL ME,” along with Zidane we’re supposed to kinda raise our brow at him and go “...really, dude?”

 Amarant’s a character introduced as an antagonist who has more in common with the power hungry villains of the game. Like many of the characters in FFIX, Amarant is in search of purpose in life, which he has never found, because he was always looking in the wrong places - in places of violence and power. Very toxic-masculinity of him. Amarant is “cool” on an aesthetic level but in reality he’s the polar opposite of cool in terms of what FFIX states about the need for others to be intertwined in your experiences so that you can live a full life. 

I sort of love that he’s like a grumpy pitball following a 16 year old and his friends around. Then he sits in the corner when they all meet up and discuss current events acting like he doesn’t care (not to mention he casually walks as everyone is running as fast as they can to escape Terra - made me laugh cry on my first playthrough) He is “just there” but that’s because he has no where else to be, no where else to go, he’s a man without a home. And until Zidane offers his hand, at the point where Amarant is most willing to take it at Ipsen’s Castle, he’s not truly a party member. He IS an outsider for almost the entire game but at Ipsen Castle he joins the party, becomes a comrade, and decides he’ll allow himself to change paths and start a life where he has friends and lives, as well as fights for them. Which is why after that moment, Amarant finally has a victory pose.

song i associate with them: I was scratching my head for so long trying to think of a song or track that had Amarant vibes until it hit me. Outskirt Stand by Tsukasa Tawada (from Pokemon Colosseum). Amarant is so chill, he’s not a bombastic guy, so he needs a theme that drops me in the rocky open desert of the Lost Continent like I’m just lumbering around looking for a monkey-tailed menace. Some other Amarant tunes:  Pyrite Town, The Under, Snagem Hideout tracks from Pokemon Colosseum. This post is just an elaborate call to action for everyone to listen to the Pokemon Colosseum soundtrack. Tsukasa Tawada is so great and he has a YouTube. Check him out.

favorite picture of them:

Yoshitaka Amano’s Salamander Coral. I love him. He had too much power. 

Also everything drawn by @crispy-ghee. Everything. I will think of this Comic forever until I die. Tattoo it on my flesh. The banter, the dynamics, the post-game content, the Zidane prince-consort outfit, the new Amarant outfit, the stuck-in-the-same-place relationship him and Freya have. Perfect. Go read it and consume Crisipy’s stuff. And also check them and their current art out, they just consistently get better and better. Here’s a first panel preview of my fav comic. Read it.

 @hannahlady​‘s Amarant art and their Freya/Amarant art is just ugh. *Chef’s Kiss* Here is another preview because you should go look at it.

Here’s a piece that deserves so much more love by @snackage. I LOVE how they drew Amarant. Here’s a little preview. It’s SO GOOD

Anyway TL;DR: Amarant is love and life and you’ll have to pull him from my little gremlin hands.

[cursezone]

001 alurichter

THX the girls

when I started shipping it if I did:

a little after i played sotn. not nearly as much as later on when i started thinking about the.. trajectory? of their narrative after sotn. i dont think the romance is necessary in it but they definitely are a Pair in my eyes. narrative foils. they contrast and relate to each other well

my thoughts:

not as instrumental as richternette but they go really well together as characters not even just as a ship, but of course I'm a sucker for love.. i think they could be girlfriends, as a nice bonus in the found family of post sotn

What makes me happy about them:

THE MUTUAL HEALING<3........ not that i think richternette is onesided but alucard and richter. share a common ground and through realizing it i just feel like that could be soulmates so much. like even romance aside i love the idea of them developing into LIFELONG PARTNERS.

What makes me sad about them:

probably the hard feelings to get through after sotn. i know at the end theyre friendly and sympathetic to each other, but i dont think things are so easy for them at first, alucards coldness triggering richter to feel intense guilt at what she put them through. and i think (tourettes) richter after sotn probably hit rock bottom in terms of symptoms and lack of control, more so than even during sotn because at least then there was a narrative. but i think after sotn it being stuck with richter afterward, with a heart that doesnt want to fight anymore and a body that is FIGHTING, alucard would probably get the wrong impression entirely.. i think this was troubling for maria as well who not only has to see richter suffering but also her new friend struggling to understand it and even exacerbating it. TO ME THIS IS THEIR ANGST

things done in fanfic that annoys me:

that thing trevorcard shippers do where its like "alucard saw trevor in richter and heart eyes<3" or the worst fucking thing I've ever laid my eyes on, forgive me, "~alucard said the wrong name in bed~" I GRIND YOU UP WITH MY TEETH!!!!!!!!!!!!..... ignoring annette also sucks

things I look for in fanfic:

i dont really read fanfic so.. i personally would like to depict interactions where they bring out each others strengths and weaknesses. im not even in it for kissing i want them to make fools of each other, encourage each other, make mistakes in each others presence which the other fixes with ease

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:

richternette. and alucard doesn't need a ship tbh

My happily ever after for them:

ALUCARD MARIA AND RICHTER ARE THE FOUND FAMLIY OF ALL TIME. everyone has their stance but I'm afraid i am a post sotn truther, alucard deciding to settle down from the grand prophecy the same as richter after sotn. maria and richter reminding alucard of their innate humanity and they just want to be with them and make that their destiny

who is the big spoon/little spoon:

richter instinctively big spoons but alucard is the more comfortable big spoon. alucard also likes to be little spoon but agrees that richter is the more comfortable little spoon

what is their favorite non-sexual activity:

ill say bathing and swimming since the nature of this question is that its nonsexual. bathing being meaningful to richter as a grounding technique, and swimming is just the best. i love ideas of alucard learning humanity over again after their big sleep with the help of richter and alucard. and I'm a sucker for intimacy, frankly!!!!!!!!! (peep the bath fountain in the colosseum. not completely making it up)

[whatsmyisyours]

To Kingdom's Edge And Back

Oh how the little vessel hated this climb. Back up the main column of Kingdom’s Edge to the Colosseum of Fools. It had died many times up this way just to be let back into the City of Tears at the end all because he was a few geo short to enter the first trial. The vessel took the bench in the pit though. Talking to Tiso was lovely after that ascent. The Knight hoped Tiso’s trial was going well. Only a few more steps then. Tiso. Oh Wyrm. Tiso! He lay, back in the snow, thrown from the Colosseum at the top of Hallownest. Was he dead? The Knight made a mad dash over to where his fallen friend lay latching on to the ledge and pulling itself up. Its hand was small enough to fit under the armor Tiso wore. The vessel’s cold void connected to the throat of the fighter. It was faint, but there was a beat. Tiso was hanging on to life. The vessel rejoyed. Then it started to plan. First, they needed safety. The nearest stag station was King’s Station. From where Tiso lies it would be a fall, but he had cleared out the Tower of Love awhile ago, along with that it was warm and padded. He pulled Tiso’s unconscious body onto its back, securing him with the strap ment for the vessel’s nail. It was a long way down, but for Tiso it would take that plunge.

A few more seconds. Then they would hit the snow. He raised Tiso just above its head so Tiso’s body would make no contact with the ground in case this failed. The vessel’s eyes locked to the door, and it told its body to dash. Thus, they had made it in. They were in the higher part of the Tower. How comforting the once sickening padding of the room was. The Knight jumped the small gap and brought the warrior fully into the Tower of Love. It worked quickly. Unstrapping Tiso’s from its back, opening up the fighter’s armor to assess the wounds. In the vessel’s many deaths it had grown a knowledge of area’s that could kill in seconds if left to bleed. Tiso’s armor had done him well but his arms were covered in bleeding bites, cuts, and acid. His legs were just as bad. The Knight focused the soul it had into its hands. The vessel had learned many things in the water-stained city, one of which was a very useful spell to heal those injured with the caster’s soul. The Knight rubbed Tiso’s arms as soul moved from his voided form to Tiso’s body, breathing life into it. The Knight was no healer though it could only do so much with half soul. It went to clean the route to the stag station. As it did this it pondered its options. There were a few. The first, Quirrel, last seen at the Blue Lake, with years under Monomon and in the wilds he would know a fair amount of medicine if not for others then for himself. The second, the Snail Shaman, he had given the vessel its first spell, surely the vessel could teach it what he had learned and the Shaman could apply it tenfold. The last contender was Confessor Jiji, though she dapples in the void more than the physical if it came down to her it was worth the shot. Though the Knight wanted to visit one place before he went to see any bug. The Bath House in the City was worth a gamble.

Jumping past the large guards is much harder when you have an armored bug on your back. But there was no going back now. The Spring was in view. The Knight rushes in as the guard approaches it. Striking the lever in the elevator listening from afar to the singer’s ghost that still haunts the stage, her voice always brought peace to the vessel. Finally the elevator stops and the two bugs leave it to start the small climb to the spring. Once again unstrapping Tiso from it’s back and removing his armor. The vessel grabs Tiso’s head. Holding too much respect for the fighter to remove his head scarf. Tiso will just have to deal with it if he wakes up. NO. No. When he wakes up. Tiso will wake up. The vessel shakes its head. Back to the task hand, the Knight drags Tiso into the Hot Spring, taking care to make sure Tiso’s body doesn’t sink. After minutes it had to drag Tiso back out. The vessel felt better already, but clearly the Springs did not have the same effect on the fighter. Tiso was still unconscious. Putting his armor back on, the vessel strapped Tiso back on and made his way to the elevator. To the stag then the Resting Grounds.

The chime of a bell echoed. Then the quake of legs running to the station. “Hello little one! Where are we goin-... Your friend does not look well.” The vessel nods. With no voice he could not tell the Stag of the Colosseum or of Tiso’s state. “I suggest putting him in my luggage saddle. For it seems he would not be able to sit up by himself.” The Knight shook his head. That was no place for a warrior. Neither was his plan, but it was more respectable than the luggage saddle. The Knight patted his lap. The Stag was confused “You plan to… have him ride in your lap?” The Knight nods. The Stag sighs “I cannot stop you if that is what you wish, but hold onto him tight. I don’t want to see him falling off. Now where are we off to little one?” Vessel tapped his map on the Resting Grounds. This was going to be a ride.

The Blue Lake was a far march. As the vessel sat on the bench, map in hand, it planned a path of least resistance. It would pass the statue to the Dreamers and Xero’s grave to get to the Lake. No infected bugs would be on this path. Perfect. Putting the map back, the Knight looks to Tiso. The vessel hopes the trip will end here. With Tiso reattached it waves to the Stag as he walks out of the room. Taking care to fall one platform at a time. Passing the Dreamer’s statue the vessel looks up. All of their masks were gone. Broken. The Knight still had work to do before it faced its sibling though. A friend to heal, a King Soul to bathe in void, and a Pathon to fight. It broke the seal on the Egg in case it got tired of fighting the Pathon of Hallownest and just wanted to face its sibling head on. The vessel look up from its thoughts to see Quirrel sitting by the Blue Lake. Quirrel looks to the Knight. “Ah! Hello again small friend! My… who is that you carry?” The vessel undid the straps on his back letting Tiso fall to the sandy shore. Taking Quirrel’s hand the focusing its soul so if it were hurt it would heal. “You believe I can heal your friend?” The vessel nods and pulls Quirrel toward Tiso. “I will have a look at your friend, for, a friend of a friend, is a friend of mine.” The Knight waits as Quirrel looks over Tiso. The silence was killing the vessel slowly. “Well, I’m sorry to say but it seems your friend has taken internal damage, and I am no doctor. What I could do has been done.” The vessel quivers. Its first option was down. Two to go. Hold on there TIso. I will find help for you yet. The vessel bowed to Quirrel, as a thanks. Back to the Stag then, the Infected Crossroads.

Clearing the path to the Snail Shaman came easily to the Knight. It had gone to talk with the Shaman after defeating the Broken Vessel in the Ancient Basin to ask where to get more spells from. The last runner had exploded. Time to go get Tiso and bring him through.This was becoming quite an effort. Bone rattled under the vessel’s feet as it ascended the mound, the flames flickered as it passed. Skulls or masks watch the march. The rattle of bones and the sound of something hopping into a bench startled the Shaman. He walked over to see if another infected had made way into his home. More and more these days they were finding ways in. Soon he would have to lock his door. To his surprise it was his friend, another bug strapped to its back. What possessed it to make a trip here? “Ohohoh! You gave me quite the startle friend! I thought you were another infected bug. Say who do you have here? They don’t look well at all.” The vessel looked up from where it was sitting, got up and grabbed the Snail Shaman. “Ohohoh! A little rough today, are we? Do you need me to do something?” The Knight nodded. It dragged the Shaman over to Tiso who now lay on the bench. Starting the healing spell to its hands, it looks back and forth from the Shaman to Tiso to its hands, waving them from time to time. The Shaman finally caught on, “You want me to cast the spell you are to heal your friend here? Hmm…” The Shaman looked almost guilty. No. Please. “Shadow I will be blunt with you. I craft spells. And the craft takes time. I have a very difficult time learning spells from others who can speak, let alone a Shadow that cannot. I will work on making a spell that I can use to heal your friend, but it will be days. I suggest you try someone, or something else in the meantime.” The spell dissipates from the Knights hands. Void starts to well in its sockets, as its body shakes, it looks to Tiso and nods. The Knight made sure the spell didn’t waste as the Shaman talked, which means he had more time, but at what point would it be pointless to continue Tiso’s suffering? At what point would it give up? It knew half an answer. Not now. The vessel wiped the void leaking from its sockets, cleared the way, thanked the Shaman for his time, strapped Tiso back on once again, and headed for the Station. Two down, one to go. Confessor Jiji was the vessel's last hope.

The vessel needed more rancid eggs. Worst of all there were very few left in the world, around three, and the Knight wanted ten before it went to see Jiji. It would have to visit Tuk. The vessel despised the Fluke and all that they are. Not only were they creepy, even compared to the beast of deepnest, they were frankly a pain in the ass to kill. Luckily the Knight didn’t have to carry Tiso with it even though this would take awhile, it had a plan. It had left Tiso strapped to the Stag, so if the need arose, the Stag could take off without worry that Tiso would go flying. The vessel entered Tuks' little hole with three eggs already in hand. It paid for seven more. Hopefully this would be enough for Confessor Jiji. For a moment the Knight thought of buying ten more. But it quickly turned down the notion. If Jiji wanted more the vessel would gladly pay after Jiji did whatever she needed to do. Time to go. The bench felt nice after the smell and dampness of the Waterways. “Ah! Welcome back little one, are we off to Dirtmouth?” The Last Stag question. The Knight unstraps Tiso and nods. Its last hope. Please, let this work. This must work. For Tiso. For me. Void drips from the vessel's empty eyes. A rumble shakes the ground as the Stag charges off to the Knight’s last stop.

As the Knight emerged from the Stag Station Sly’s and Elderbug’s conversation came to quick. They saw who the vessel had strapped to itself. The brave man in seek of the Colosseum of Fool. The warrior looking for a challenge The light in his eyes was gone. This left only darkness in its wake. The Knight passed Bretta and Zote. This only allowed Zote to slander the vessel further. “I bet that beast killed the warrior. No doubt in fact. I only wish I was there to save that wonderful bug.” Zote toted. Zote can shove it. “Another dead to bury? Hand him over, ittle nuisance.” The Knight slapped the ghosts hand away. You will pull this bug off my corpse. I dare you. The vessel steps into the Confessor’s cave. Tired from carrying Tiso for so long. “Ah, hello again. Have you- Oh. I see you brought your regrets strapped to your back today.” The Knight pulls out all the eggs it carried. Void threatens to drop onto the Confessor’s floors. The Confessor reaches out a claw to the small vessel, “Hush now. You have travelled to many places to help your friend. But found no one capable. Your travels end here, though.” Does Jiji mean… No. Jiji, please help him. Please. I can’t. I can’t- “Did you know before I became a Confessor I wanted to be a doctor. I even went to school in the capital!” Huh? The vessel looked up. Was Confessor Jiji truly going to help it? Or was she just spinning a tale to calm the Knight. “Can I see the patient please?” The Knight pushes the eggs first, “No need for payment for this work. I will always mend the physical for free.” The Knight turns around to allow Jiji access to the strap on its back. Once Tiso’s weight had left it, the vessel turned to follow after Jiji. “Do you want to help?” The Knight nods, firing up the healing spell again. “Okay then, you may help me. Just try not to get in the way of my tools. This work will be more delicate than just summoning a shade.”

The procedure felt like a lifetime. The soul from the Knight moved slowly to last. For the vessel doesn’t know what would happen to its friend if it was not there, feeding the body, keeping Tiso breathing. Watching Jiji work inside Tiso hurt as though the vessel was Tiso. The Knight was used to blood, guts, and gore, the infection did cruel work on the bugs it wormed inside. But this was its friend. The Little Fool would suffer after this. The vessel looked over its friend. The whole Colosseum will be purged of every bug, beast, and insect. I promise those fools will know the rage of wyrm, root, and void, Tiso. The Confessor started to sew up Tiso, as the vessel started to shake. “Are you okay?” The vessel nodded as the soul in its hands started to fade. “You look tired. You should stop that spell,” Jiji looked from her work, “It will take everything from you and give it away, if you are not careful with its use. You need to stop.” The Knight shook its head. Not until you're done. Not until Tiso is closed and in a be- The white pouring from the vessel’s hands stopped as its body fell to the floor. It felt so tired. But there was still work to be done. The vessel tried to pull itself to Tiso. Please. I’m tired. But I need to help. I need help. I can’t. Not yet. Not don- And with a thud, as the last stitch was placed into Tiso, the vessel’s heavy skull hit the floor. Passing out. The void consuming it as if birthed again.

The Knight awoke in a strange room. On instinct it took out its nail and looked around. There in a bed next to the vessel lies Tiso snoring. On the other side, Confessor Jiji was also asleep. No infected bugs. Nothing to do but wait. Well. The others did need to eat. The vessel walked up to Jiji holding out a rancid egg, the smell awaking Jiji. “I see you have woken. I warned you of that spell.” The Confessor looked to the Knight. “Again I do not need payment for this work.” The vessel shook its head. Holding up the egg to Jiji. To eat. Not for work. “Ah, thank you for the food though. I will be delighted with this meal.” Next to stir was Tiso. “Pale... thing? Where are we? I… must get back to the Colosseum. Ack!” The stitch sent a shock up Tiso's body as he tried to move out of the bed. “Ahh good morning to you too. Your friend here brought you in. You have been badly injured, but I was able to mend most, if not all damage. Since you will be with me for a while may I ask your name? Mine is Confessor Jiji by the way.” At this point Tiso noticed the lack of his armor. He frantically felt around his head to check if his veil was still there. He felt more at ease with the knowledge that the hood was still there. “My name is Tiso. How long must I stay here?” The Knight watched the back and forth between Tiso and Jiji, happy that they got along. Happy Tiso was alive. “Ah! Pale thing. You’re crying, is something the matter?” The Knight shakes its head and using its hands draws a smile across its face. I’m happy you're alive. “By the way. Thank you. Really. If not for you I would have died. If you need me you know where to find me, Pale Thing.” The Knight nods as it leaves the cave. It walked into town and rested on the bench. It had much to do. But first. Revenge will be sweet. The Knight heads to the Stag asking for the City’s store room. The Colosseum shall pay with soul. It walked up to the Little Fool handing over the geo for the first trial after resting and tweaking its charms. It placed its mark on the challenge. The pit door, closing, the gathering of great bugs roars. Today a new Fool will be crowned, debts shall be paid, and the Colosseum will know what the rage of wyrm, root, and void looks like. Hail to the voided vessel, Fools of Hallownest, and recognize the King.

[phykios]

volcano kiss scene but make it medieval, for @perseannabeth 💙 note that this is little more than a fancy rewrite, but... marble king verse is too good to be done with completely

***🌊***🌊***🌊***

June, 1446

As Percy led his little band of adventurers through the tunnels of the Labyrinth, himself, his questing partner Ana Zabeta, his childhood companion Aegidius, and his half-brother, the cyclops Tison, following a marvelously clever creation of the god of fire, he allowed himself, for a brief moment, to feel a small sense of pride. They had finally located a deity who not only did not appear to have any negative designs on their characters, but had also promised them his help--after they had performed him a small favor, of course. 

Hephaestus had fashioned for them a little spider made of metal, who moved about as though it had a beating heart, darting this way and that, nearly invisible, were it not for their torchlight flickering off its shiny, shiny legs. Though he would never speak it aloud, Percy felt a particular kind of pride on Annabeth’s behalf, as she followed the eight-legged creature with neither complaint nor fear. He knew full well just how totally she detested the beasts, her eternal and forsworn enemies, just as their mother had been an enemy of Athena. 

They rounded a corner, moving from a passageway lined with a strange, shiny substance which felt cool to the touch to one of crudely-cut stone, when he spotted a tunnel off to the side, dug from raw earth, wrapped in thick roots which pried their way through the holes in the stones. Aegidius had noticed it as well, slowing his pace until he stopped entirely in front of the dark, gaping maw in the wall. “Aegidius,” Percy said, stopping as well. “What is it?”

It was as if he had not heard him. The satyr merely gazed into the black tunnel, his curly hair rustling in an impossible breeze.

“We cannot delay!” said Annabeth. “We must keep moving!”

“This is the way,” Aegidius muttered, hushed and reverent. “It is here.”

He couldn’t possibly mean… “The way to Pan?”

But Aegidius ignored him, turning instead to Tison, the creature whose very nature often rendered him speechless with fear. “Do you not smell it, too?”

“Yes,” said Tison. “Earth. The forest.”

Before them, the spider skittered further down the stone corridor. If they delayed any further, the trail would be lost to them. 

“Once we have finished our errand for Hephaestus,” said Annabeth, “then we can return for Pan, I swear it.”

“The tunnel will have gone by then,” said Aegidius, with a confidence Percy had rarely seen before. “A door such as this will not remain open for long--and I must enter it.”

“But,” she said, desperate, “the forges!”

He looked at her sadly, but firmly. “I cannot go with you this time, Annabeth.”

Percy had forgotten--Aegidius was not only his companion. He had been Annabeth’s as well. He had been responsible for seeing her safely over the magical boundary in Sigeion. But the spider was nearly out of sight, and they could not tarry any longer before the gateway to the god. “We will continue to the forges,” he decided. “Aegidius, you go on to seek Pan.”

“No!” she gasped. “It is far too dangerous. If we part ways, we might never find each other again! And I cannot let you go alone.”

It was then that Tison, gentle creature he was, put his hand on Aegidius’ shoulder. As much fear as satyrs held for cyclops, Tison, for some odd reason, held just as much, if not more, for the satyrs. They had made an amusing pair at times, two of the sweetest, kindest people Percy had ever known, cowering in fear at the other. But Tison showed no fear now. Now, he was brave. “I shall go with him.”

Percy could not believe his ears. “You will?”

He nodded. “The satyr needs help. We shall find the god of the wild--together.”

Aegidius took a deep, steadying breath. “I wish I could see this through to the end with you, but--”

“I understand,” said Percy. The search for Pan was his life’s goal, the final prize in a quest which had taken his father, his father’s father, and so many searchers before him. If he did not succeed on this journey, the Council of Cloven Elders would never give him another chance. “I pray that you are right.”

Shoulders square, suddenly possessed of a confidence Percy had rarely ever seen from him, save for when he deliberated on how keftedes paled in comparison to spanakopita, he grinned. “I know that I am.”

Percy took a heartbeat to gaze on him one last time, imprinting him in his memory--just in case. “Be careful,” he told him. Then, he looked towards Tison, and opened his arms to his half-brother, who went into them willingly, squeezing Percy so strongly his eyes just about burst from his sockets. 

Tison and Aegidius then disappeared into the darkness of the tree roots, lost to the wild. 

“This was a mistake,” said Annabeth, her voice trembling. “We should not have let them go.”

“We will see them again,” Percy replied, attempting to summon Aegidius’ confidence. “Now, come on. The spider will not wait for us any longer.”

“Do not remind me,” she said, shuddering.

Before very long, the tunnel grew warmer, the stone walls red and glowing. The air felt as though they were walking through a giant oven, as though they had been transported into one of the forges beneath the villa for Hephaestus’ children, and he supposed, in a way, that they had. The tunnel sloped down, deeper into the earth, the spider nearly tripping over itself to reach the bottom, Annabeth right behind it.

Percy jogged to catch up. “Annabeth!” he called. “A moment?”

She glanced back at him, but did not cease her quick pace, forcing Percy to match her. “Yes?”

“I have a… question,” he panted, “regarding what Hephaestus… said, about your mother.” 

“She swore never to marry,” Annabeth said, easily. Curses, Annabeth did not appear to be even remotely out of breath. He felt like such a fool compared to her, always. “She is one of the maiden goddesses, alongside Artemis and Hestia.”

Percy frowned. He had not recalled that detail about the war goddess--though, he was rather infamous for nodding off during lessons. Perhaps he had simply slept through that particular lesson. “But, if she is a maiden goddess, then--”

“How is it she came to have demigod children?”

Blushing, he nodded. 

Now, this was not at all appropriate conversation, he knew. Young boys and girls were not meant to discuss such things with each other--not yet anyway. But Percy was nearly a man, and besides, he had spent enough time with Carlos and the older boys at the agoge to pick up a few pieces of knowledge here or there. Hopefully, Annabeth would think the flush on his cheeks was due to the heat of the cavern. 

“Do you know how Athena was born?” she asked him. 

“She was born from… the head of Zeus? In armor?”

“Precisely. She was literally born from his thoughts--and thus, her children are born the same way. When Athena falls in love with a mortal partner, it is a purely intellectual affair, just as it was with Odysseus in the epic tales. Our mother says that it is the truest kind of love.”

“So,” said Percy, frowning. “Your father and Athena… you were not--”

“I was born from their minds,” she interrupted, quickly. “Sprung from the divine thoughts of my mother and the mortal ingenuity of my father. Her children are gifts, blessings on the mortals she favors.”

“But--”

She turned to him, exasperated. “Percy, the spider has nearly vanished. Do you really wish for me to explain the precise details of my birth?”

Flushing even harder, he snapped his jaw shut.

Victorious again, she smirked. “I thought not.”

Running ahead to catch their guide, Percy followed, very neatly put in his place, and not certain he would ever be able to look at his friend the same way ever again. Some things, he decided, were perhaps better left as mysteries.

After another few minutes or so, they emerged into a cavern, larger than any stadium Percy had ever seen. It felt to be five times the size of the mighty Colosseum. There was no floor, just miles of bubbling lava beneath their feet. Standing on a rock ride which encircled the cavern, Percy saw a complex, overlapping network of metal bridges spanning the width of it, meeting on a huge platform in the center which housed the largest anvil he had ever seen, a block of iron the size of a villa. Dark, strange shapes moved about them, like formless shadows, too far away to discern what manner of creature they might be. 

“We cannot sneak up on them,” said Percy, noting the distinct lack of places to hide with some despair. 

With a slight grimace, Annabeth picked up their metal guide, its form having changed to a small ball, and slipped it into a fold in her dress. “I can. Wait here.”

“Hang on--” But Percy was too late, as Annabeth put on her magical cap, a gift from her mother, and vanished from his sight. 

Percy cursed. He did not dare call after her, not willing to draw attention to her tactics, but nor did he appreciate the idea of her approaching the forge on her own. If those creatures could repel the likes of Hephaestus, what hope did Annabeth have? It was not safe. She was their leader--they could not risk her life. Percy would not risk her life. 

Alas, he could never sit still for very long. Creeping along the outer rim of the lake of molten rock, he darted from stalagmite to stalagmite as best he could, hoping to find a better vantage point. Really, Annabeth should have known better.

The heat was horrendous, heavy and oppressive. Drenched in sweat, and eyes stinging with smoke, he moved along, staying as far from the edge as was physically possible, until he found his way stopped by a large metal box, fitted on wheels. Peering inside, he saw it was full scrapped metal, bits and bobs of broken swords and lumpy shields, piled on top of one another. Nothing he could reasonably use for an extra weapon, or even some kind of defense. Making to squeeze himself around it, he suddenly heard from up ahead a voice, rough and grating, speaking an ancient language which no man alive had heard for a thousand years. 

Monsters, he knew. 

There was no time to run away, no place to hide… except for the box. Leaping inside, covering himself with a dented aspis, he curled his fingers around his father’s sword, that blade Anaklusmos, hissing as the sharp metal of his bed cut between the soft parts of his armor, biting his tongue so no curse could escape. 

With any luck, the monsters would pass him by, and he could continue along unmolested. 

That was when, of course, that the box lurched forward, pushed along by the monsters, carrying Percy along with it. Malaka! Was he about to be tipped into a smelting pot?

All around him, he heard the chatter of terrible beasts. He was not so skilled in the ancient tongue as Annabeth, but even he could recognize a few words here or there, “weapon” and “cyclopes” and “furnace,” and some names as well: Zena, hissed with scorn, Posidaota, spat with bile, and, most chillingly of all, Kronos, spoken with reverence and awe.

Percy blinked against the sudden light as his cover was removed from his person, revealing himself to the monster, who was so taken aback by his presence, that it blinked back at him in return. For a few moments, neither of them moved, so shocked were they by the other’s sudden appearance. Then, springing into action, Percy slashed upwards, dissolving the beast in a cloud of golden smoke. Snatching up another shield and leaping from his bed of spikes, he saw with his preternatural vision a small army of at least twenty monsters, black like dogs, but with sleek, shiny skin, and legs which looked to be more suited for swimming than scrambling around the rocks of Aitne.

With a hearty battle-cry and another wide swipe, he repelled the front row of these creatures, carving himself some space to jump, sprinting for the mouth of the tunnel. The monsters followed after him, baying and growling as a pack of ravenous wolves, and they would have caught him, tearing him to pieces, had they been but a little bit faster. Thinking quickly, at the top of the tunnel, Percy hurled his shield into a column, the rocks crumbling upon impact, burying the monsters and blocking off the path with a great, noisy cave-in. 

He doubted it would keep them trapped for very long. Not only that, he very much doubted that they had been the only monsters in the cavern. Percy had just announced his presence to anyone who might have been listening, destroying their chance for any sort of subtle reconnaissance.

And Annabeth was still out there, somewhere, invisible.

“Annabeth!” He yelled, running towards the platform at the center of the ocean of lava. “Annabe--!”

An invisible hand clamped over his mouth, wrestling him down behind a large, bronze cauldron. “Silence! Do you mean to have us killed?”

Arms flailing, he managed to locate her head, slipping off her cap of invisibility. She shimmered into view as an island emerging from the mist, scowling and covered in ash and grime. “It’s far too late for that,” he said, grimly. “I came upon a group of monsters, and brought the roof crashing down on them.”

Hissing curses, her hands clenched, as though she meant to strangle him, before she visibly managed to control her temper. “You said there were monsters?”

He nodded. “I know not what kind. I had thought they may have been dogs, were it not for their flippered feet and human hands, adorned with claws. They spoke of furnaces and weapons, making arms for the first Titanomachy.”

“Telkhines,” she gasped, eyes wide. “Of course! I should have known. I had wondered when I saw… well, look.” 

Together they peered over the lip of the cauldron. In the center of the platform stood four of these demons, larger than any Percy had seen before, standing at least the size of a fully grown man. Their black, scaly skin glistened in the light of the fire as they labored, sparks flying between mighty hammer strikes on a long piece of glowing, hot metal, hissing to each other in the ancient language. “What are they saying?” he whispered to her. If he could not understand them, Annabeth surely would. 

“They are talking of fusing metals,” she said, frowning. “Other than that, I--I cannot say.”

“Is that bad?”

She stared at him, incredulous. “The telkhines betrayed the gods,” she said, “for practicing dark magics. For their transgressions, Zeus banished them to Tartaros.”

“Alongside Kronos.”

She nodded. “We must return to Hephaestus at once--”

But no sooner had she spoken than a sharp, clawed hand pierced its way through the rubble of Percy’s cave-in, pushing aside the rocks which blocked its path, followed closely by its snout, teeth long and sharp and dripping with saliva. “You must return to the god,” Percy said, moving into a crouch. “Leave me here.”

“What?” she shrieked. “No! I will not leave you!”

At any other time, he would have praised her for her courage, but not now. “You must! Let me distract the monsters, and perhaps the spider can lead you back through the Labyrinth. You are the leader of this quest--you must take the message back to Hephaestus.”

“But you’ll be killed!”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, turning to face her. “As well, there is no other choice.”

She glared at him, her lips pulled back almost in a snarl worthy of one of the monsters. He knew this look of hers well--it was the one she wore whenever she considered hitting him for his foolishness. 

But rather than hit him, she did something which shocked him even more.

She grasped the collar of his tunic, pulled him close, and kissed him. “Be careful, phykios,” she murmured against his lips, breath hot. Then she put on her cap, and vanished. 

Percy couldn’t breathe, and not for the smoke. Had it not been for the lava, the monsters, the weapon, the quest, he would have been quite content to sit there all day, thinking of nothing but the softness of her mouth and the way her eyes sparkled in the firelight, unable to even recall his own name. 

A sea demon screamed, jolting him back into reality. 

The horde of monsters, freed from their prison, charged across the bridge towards him. Percy scrambled up from the ground, running for the middle of the platform, startling the large monsters so thoroughly that they dropped the red-hot blade over which they labored. It was as long as they were tall, curved like a crescent moon, its shape burning into his vision, sending shivers down his spine. 

Unfortunately for Percy, the monsters recovered quickly from their shock. Every which way he turned, his exit was blocked by a small army, surrounding him. Cutting him off. 

Raising Anaklusmos, he prayed that they could not see the blade shaking. 

“Son of Poseidon,” rasped a demon, speaking Percy’s own language now. “We are honored by your visit, fish-blood.” 

He spread his senses, casting about for an escape, but there was none. He was trapped. 

“Will you strike us down, half-blood?” asked another one. “An you try, the rest of us shall tear you to shreds.” Licking its lips, it advanced on him, claws glinting in the glow of the forge. “Perhaps we shall deliver you to your father in pieces--an omen of the horror we shall visit upon him, and all the rest of the twelve, for their betrayal.”

Annabeth would not have allowed herself to be cornered this way, but Percy was no strategist. If the gods favored him at all, they would have seen to Annabeth’s escape, leaving him to his doom. 

Was this to be his doom, he wondered? Trapped in the heart of a volcano, overrun by monsters which would use his bones to pick their teeth? 

The tallest of the demons plunged its hand into the furnace, scooping a handful of molten rock. “Let us see the might of Olympus,” it said, grinning. “Let us see how long it takes him to burn!” And it threw the lava at Percy.

Dropping his sword, he swatted at his clothes which had been set alight, as though he had merely had an unfortunate run-in with the lava trap at the agoge, but it was not nearly enough, the fire engulfing him with each passing second. At first, oddly, it had only felt warm, though it grew hotter and hotter with every heartbeat. 

“Your father’s nature protects you,” one monster sneered. “Makes you hard to burn. But not impossible, fish-blood. Not impossible.”

Later, Percy would struggle to remember the particulars. He would recall only the fire, and the pain. He would not remember how he crumpled to the floor in deepest agony, the sea demons howling in delight at his terror. 

Nor would he remember the voice of the naiad at the farm of the giant Geryon. The water is within me, she had said. 

Between waves of torment, there was a tugging sensation in his gut, calling vainly for water where there was none: not a river, nor a stream, nor even a petrified seashell. Percy called for the sea, the towering waves which could wash away villages, the currents which could destroy ships in a single blow, the endless power of the ocean, and he called for these things inside of himself, letting it loose in one terrible, horrible scream.

Fire and water collided, a typhoon of unearthly power shooting him up from the beating heart of Aitne on wings of superheated steam, peeling his skin away, another piece of flotsam flung from the earth by the force of the blast. Higher and higher he flew, further than Icarus, than Bellerophon, than Zeus himself, so high that the lord of the heavens would not be able to reach him--and then he fell, a shooting star, hurtling towards the sea which would not save him. Not this time.

[purplehairedwonder]

Hearts With(out) Chains Chapter 21

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen (eventual Lawlu) Words: 3,270 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Donquixote Doflamingo, Monkey D. Luffy, Violet, Rebecca, Bepo, Shachi, Penguin  Notes: I’m taking my turn at the Corazon!Law AU because my brain won’t leave me alone until this is written down. Tags will be updated as the chapters come out.

Summary: Law is reclaimed by the Family when he’s 17 and, with Doflamingo holding the lives of his crew as collateral for his good behavior, eventually becomes the third Corazon. Years later, trapped by his impossible situation, Law finds a strange connection to Monkey D. Luffy, which offers a glimpse of something he’s repeatedly had ripped away from him: hope.

Previous chapters: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Missing scenes: Chapter 5

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

It felt like only seconds after Law had ended the call that his Observation Haki picked up Doflamingo’s approach. Both Law and Luffy looked up to the sky and watched as Doflamingo, pink coat flowing behind him, descended from the brightening morning sky above the colosseum toward the waiting pirates. Law tensed as Doflamingo landed about ten rows up into the seats. He reclined in the seat like it was a throne, resting a large foot on the seat in front of him.

Law shivered as Doflamingo blatantly raked his gaze over him, most likely assessing his injured state. Law forced his spine to straighten and lifted his chin, defiant. Doflamingo’s lips quirked upward in response.

“Well, Corazon. Don’t you think it’s time you stopped this little rebellion of yours and returned home?”

Law opened his mouth, but Luffy cut in before Law could speak. “Torao isn’t going anywhere with you!”

Doflamingo raised an amused eyebrow behind his sunglasses, which raised Law’s hackles. An amused Doflamingo was one who felt in control of the situation, and that was not good for them. “Is that so?”

“Torao isn’t yours anymore,” Luffy nearly growled. “He’s free!”

Law looked at Luffy, surprise at the venom in the other captain’s voice outweighing his annoyance at being cut off. Where had that come from? Why did he care so much?

Doflamingo reached into his coat and pulled out a small object. “So long as I hold this, I think you’ll find that to be untrue.”

It was the key to Law’s Seastone cuffs.

“Straw Hat-ya…” Law started, but Luffy had already noticed.

“The key!” Luffy exclaimed, stretching his arms toward Doflamingo and causing Law to stumble.

The Warlord easily jumped from his seat and moved a half dozen rows back, settling once more out of Luffy’s range. Luffy hissed in irritation as his arms snapped back to his body. A hand reached under Law’s elbow to steady him; Law clenched his jaw, frustrated at his weakness.

“Now, now,” Doflamingo chided.

“Give us the key!” Luffy demanded.

“And why would I do that?” Doffy asked, amused. “Corazon here is my subordinate to do with as I please, and his betrayal must be punished.”

“Maybe if you weren’t such a jerk, he wouldn’t want to betray you,” Luffy growled in reply. “A crew that doesn’t respect their captain and a captain who doesn’t deserve that respect is destined to fail.”

Law inhaled sharply as Doflamingo’s expression darkened; Law didn’t doubt Luffy’s words made Doffy think of Cora-san. Luffy had unknowingly hit a nerve, and the bulging vein on Doffy’s forehead made that apparent.

“And why do you care so much about what happens to Corazon, Straw Hat?” Doffy gritted out.

“Because he’s my friend!” Luffy replied. “He’s a good person.”

Doffy let out a bark of surprised laughter. “He certainly has you fooled if you think that.”

Law clenched his jaw, refusing to look at Luffy. He knew he had blood staining his hands; over the years, it had stopped bothering him as much as it once would have because he’d done it for the sake of his nakama. He did whatever it took to protect them from Doflamingo, including becoming a cold-hearted Donquixote Family executive.

But Luffy’s response had Law looking back at him in surprise. “No! Torao saved me. He’s good, and I won’t let you hurt him and his nakama anymore.”

“Straw Hat-ya…”

Doflamingo held up the key and smirked. “Then come and get it, boy.”

Doffy took off, using strings to run through the air toward the interior corridors behind the stands. Luffy spared Law a grin then stretched his arms in the direction Doflamingo had gone. He catapulted into the corridor and let out a whoop as he set off after Doffy, who had disappeared into the bowels of the colosseum.

-----

Luffy chased after Mingo, up one hallway and down the other. The chase stretched on and on; Luffy threw punches at the fleeing Warlord, but Mingo dodged without losing a step. Luffy sidestepped string attacks Mingo threw back at him, but none of them had much intent behind them. Luffy frowned. What was with the chase? Why did it feel like Mingo was just trying to distract him?

His eyes widened. Torao. He’d left Torao alone and exposed in the middle of the colosseum. Luffy needed to get the key and get back to Torao. He shot his right arm out; Mingo dodged, but Luffy kept stretching his arm until he grabbed onto an open doorway, fingers wrapping around the doorframe. He shot forward toward Mingo, who’d come to a halt when he saw what Luffy was doing.

Luffy slammed into Mingo like a missile, and they both went sprawling. There was a clinking as the key bounced down the hall. Both Luffy and Mingo scrambled to their feet toward the key, Luffy stretching his arm out while Mingo sent a string toward it; Luffy’s arm reached the key first, and he crowed in victory as his fingers wrapped around it.

His arm rebounded into its place, and he grinned at the scowling Mingo. He made to turn back toward the main stage—to the waiting Torao—but Mingo’s voice brought him up short.

“Is the key the only thing you want, Straw Hat?”

Luffy looked back at Mingo, uncertain. “Torao needs the key. What else would I want?”

Mingo’s lips quirked upward. “I have something I think you’ll be very interested in.”

“I don’t want anything else.” What was Mingo up to? Luffy just needed to get back to Torao.

“Not even the Mera Mera no Mi?”

-----

Law was straining with his senses to follow the chase through the corridors of the colosseum when a voice interrupted him.

“And now we can be alone, as it should be, Corazon.”

Law started and turned to see Doffy emerge from the shadows of the south entrance, his looming presence filling the space around Law. What…? His stomach dropped, but his shock gave way to recognition.

“It was a clone.”

“Yes,” Doflamingo agreed, stopping a few feet away from Law. “It will keep the riffraff out of our business. After all, this is between you and me, isn’t it, little bird?”

Law swallowed, the weight of the Seastone shackles heavy on his wrists. Between the Seastone and his injuries—without Luffy there to lean on, it was taking everything Law had just to stand up straight—he was no match for Doffy, and they both knew it. Doffy could have just grabbed Law and taken him back to the palace if he wanted.

So why hadn’t he?

There was a loud crash from somewhere inside the colosseum, and Law glanced toward it before looking back to Doffy, who was watching him with an unreadable expression.

“You trust him, don’t you?”

“What?”

“Straw Hat. Twice now you’ve betrayed me.” Doffy’s lips curled into a sneer. “And twice now you’ve put your nakama at risk. For him. For an initial.”

Law went rigid at the reference to his nakama. Doflamingo, of course, noticed.

“That’s right, Corazon. You know your nakama are the ones who will pay the price for your betrayal.”

“No,” Law said, shaking his head. “They escaped.”

“Did they?” Doffy countered, raising an eyebrow. “The three in the dungeon weren’t so lucky.”

Law’s breath caught. Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin had still been locked up when Law had last seen them. How had he forgotten? Suddenly, Doflamingo being quiet while Law was treated at the clinic felt more ominous. The other executives could be doing anything to them at this very moment.

“Besides,” Doffy went on. “Do you really think we spent the last day just waiting for you to make your move, Corazon?”

“No,” Law whispered, recognizing what Doffy was implying.

Law had sent Uni, Kani, and Iruka back into the city to find the others, who might not even be out there anymore. How many of his nakama were still safe? For how much longer? Law was such a fool.

“The longer this little rebellion of yours stretches on, the worse it will be for them.” Doffy shook his head. “It’s time to make a choice, little bird: Straw Hat or your nakama.”

Once again, it struck Law that Doflamingo could have ended Law’s little rebellion at any point during the conversation. But he hadn’t; there was something else on his mind, and Law could use that to his advantage. He might be unable to fight at the moment, but he could still protect his nakama.

“No! Torao saved me. He’s good, and I won’t let you hurt him and his nakama anymore.”

He couldn’t let Luffy keep stepping in to fight his battles for him; Luffy was only on Dressrosa facing Doflamingo because of Law, because of a weird tug in Law’s chest that made him act at a pivotal moment two years earlier.

This wasn’t Luffy’s fight; it was Law’s.

Law hadn’t been able to save that for Cora-san, but he could protect the people who mattered to him now. Because he knew that was one thing above all else that Doflamingo wanted.

“Then I propose a deal,” Law said.

“Oh?” Doffy sounded amused. “What could you possibly have to bargain with, Corazon?”

“My obedience.”

Doffy stiffened, and Law knew he was on the right track. It had become painfully obvious to Law over the last two years that what Doffy wanted most was Law’s loyalty and compliance. He held the lives of Law’s nakama over his head to force his obedience, but what Doffy truly wanted was to have Law at his side of Law’s own free will.

(After all, Law had to willingly sacrifice himself to do the Perennial Youth Operation. There was no guarantee even threats to the lives of his crew would push him to do that operation. But for Law to offer his willingness… Well, that was another story entirely.)

“I will return to the palace and perform my duties as you wish,” Law said, throat tightening as he offered his terms. Yet part of him also felt calm; he was making a choice that could protect the people he cared for and who had sacrificed far too much for him already. “I will remain loyal to you and the Family. No more betrayal, no more escape attempts. I will be yours entirely.”

“Intriguing,” Doflamingo acknowledged. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip in anticipation. “And what is your price for this concession?”

“The freedom of my nakama. You will no longer need them,” Law said. He was offering to give Doflamingo willingly what his nakama had ensured for nearly a decade. They would be furious, but Law didn’t care, as long as they were alive and unharmed. He was the one who put them in danger in the first place. “Let them leave the island unharmed.”

“That’s it?”

“And the Straw Hats.”

Doffy barked a laugh. “Oh, Corazon. Your precious nakama are one thing—they are mine to do with as I please. But the Straw Hats are an enemy pirate crew invading my island. As a king, I cannot simply let that stand.”

Law crossed his arms, shackles clanking with the movement. “The Straw Hats only came to Dressrosa because of me,” he said. “If my nakama are freed and I have made my loyalty to you known, they will have no reason to stay on the island. Our alliance will be over.”

Doffy made a thoughtful noise. “Clever boy,” he said after a long moment then his lips curled upward. Law felt a chill run down his spine as his fate was sealed. “Fine, I accept your deal.”

As Doflamingo gestured for Law to follow him, Law felt a familiar tug in his chest.

-----

“Ace’s fruit?” Luffy whispered, eyes going wide.

Mingo’s smirk widened. “That’s right. I searched high and low after Fire Fist’s execution and was recently able to acquire it. All of my executives are already fruit users, so I planned to hold a tournament in a fortnight with the fruit as the prize for the winner. But perhaps you would like it. It was your late brother’s, after all.”

Luffy’s eyes narrowed. He might not be smart like Robin or Torao, but even he could tell when something was too good to be true. “Why would you just give it to me?”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be for free,” Mingo replied airily. “In exchange, you and your crew would leave Dressrosa immediately and never return.” He tilted his head as though thinking. “That sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

“What about Torao?”

“What about him?” Mingo sneered. “Corazon is mine. He’s been mine since he was a boy, and he will be mine until he uses his final breath in my service.” Luffy opened his mouth to argue, but Mingo cut him off. “You know nothing about him, Straw Hat. I taught him, molded him. I made him into the man he is today. I’ve seen what he looks like in pleasure, and I’ve seen what he looks like when he takes a life. I know him inside and out, and you? You barely know the boy but would put yourself in danger for him? Why?”

Luffy felt his anger rising with every word Doflamingo spewed, the possessiveness Mingo felt toward Torao making him furious; Torao deserved to be free. Freedom was everything.

He put a hand to his chest where he’d felt a pull toward Torao from the first time they’d met on Sabaody; it had reminded him of the pull he felt when he met his other nakama, a whisper that these people were important and were supposed to be with Luffy, but it was different, too, though Luffy couldn’t explain how.

Luffy’d barely had a chance to notice the pull after Marineford, being as tied up in pain and grief as he was, but looking back, he knew it was there alongside his vague memories of coming into half-consciousness with Torao at his bedside, checking his vitals and whispering comforting words before he went under again.

Luffy had been more than a little disappointed to realize Torao had left Amazon Lily before he’d gotten a chance to thank him, but seeing him again on Punk Hazard had brought that feeling back with such strength that it nearly knocked him over. Torao had stood in the swirling snow, fallen marines and some of Luffy’s own nakama down around him, and Luffy hadn’t been able to look away.

Torao was strong—and his powers were so cool!—but after they’d beaten him and brought him back to the Thousand Sunny, Luffy had been drawn to the way his sharp features had softened in unconsciousness. He looked younger, Luffy thought. And, though he wasn’t sure why, he thought Torao seemed sad.

He wanted to help, and the moment he had Torao had shaken hands after agreeing to work together, the tug in his chest had gone quiet, and he knew that this was the right thing to do.

“Because I can feel that he matters,” Luffy replied. And Luffy always listened to his feelings; he’d learned from a young age to trust his instincts. “And if taking Ace’s fruit means I have to give up on Torao, I refuse. I don’t give up on my nakama. Ace would never forgive me.”

Mingo looked at him for a long moment, and Luffy considered just turning around and going back to Torao, but then Mingo’s expression shifted into a smirk.

“How touching,” he simpered. “It’s too bad that Corazon just gave up on you.”

“What?” Luffy demanded, not understanding. Then he yelped in surprise as the key in his hand started to disintegrate. “Eh?” He looked up as Mingo started laughing, his features contorting as he also disintegrated into a pile of string.

Luffy stared at the small pile of string in his hand before dropping it to the ground. The key was a fake. Mingo had been fake, too. So where was the real Mingo? And what had happened to Torao?

“Straw Hat!”

“Luffy!”

Luffy looked up to see several figures standing at the end of the hallway. He frowned and walked toward them before he lit up in recognition. “Violet!” She had another girl with her, this one with pink hair. He glanced at the other three figures, each wearing a set of coveralls with a familiar Jolly Roger on it.

Torao’s Jolly Roger.

“You’re Torao’s nakama!”

“Torao?”

“He means Law,” Violet.

Luffy felt his eyes shining as his eyes landed on the bear. “Torao didn’t tell me he had a bear for a nakama!”

“We’ve met,” the bear said, pulling at his snout.

“Oh,” Luffy said, realizing that must have been when he’d been freaking out after waking up on Torao’s ship. He felt his mood drop at the memory.

“Sorry,” the bear said.

Luffy frowned at him curiously. “For what?” When the bear kind of curled in on himself, Luffy shook his head. Weird. Oh well. “What are you guys doing here?”

“I broke these three out of the dungeon after you took Law from the palace,” Violet said, nodding at Torao’s nakama. “I brought them here to hide since Rebecca, my niece,” she added, nodding at the younger woman, “and the other gladiators here aren’t loyal to Doffy.” She shook her head. “He undoubtedly knows I’ve betrayed him by now, too.”

“Where’s the captain?” Penguin hat said, looking right at Luffy.

Luffy’s eyes widened as he remembered what had just happened. “I left him out on the stage and was chasing around a fake Mingo to get the key to Torao’s cuffs. Then he said Torao gave up on me and, I dunno, melted,” he explained, waving his hands.

“‘Fake Mingo’?” Rebecca repeated.

“Must be a clone,” Violet said, and Torao’s nakama nodded, glancing behind Luffy toward the pile of strings.

“We need to find Law,” the redhead said, exchanging a glance with the other two. “Before he does something stupid.”

That seemed like a strange thing to say, Luffy thought, since Torao was really smart. But then again, Robin was really smart too, and she had tried to give herself up because she thought she didn’t deserve to live, and that had been pretty dumb. Luffy had helped her then, and if he had to, he’d help Torao now. That’s what allies were for.

“If Doflamingo was a clone, they might not be in the colosseum anymore,” Violet said. “We need to get moving.”

The group headed out of the hallway and into the main corridor. The others started opening doors and looking down hallways, but Luffy kept moving ahead. He could hear Torao’s Voice nearby somewhere.

“Straw Hat!”

Luffy glanced back and skidded to a halt as he saw the others looking out a window. Luffy walked up to the closest window and peered out. His eyes widened as he saw Torao, shoulders hunched forward and head down, stepping into a carriage outside the colosseum. What was happening?

“It’s too bad that Corazon just gave up on you.”

“Torao!” Luffy called, instinctively grabbing the bars on the windows. He immediately regretted it as the Seastone leeched his strength, and he let go before he melted into a puddle. When he was able to focus on the outside scene again, Torao was out of sight, but Mingo was peering up toward the windows.

When Luffy met Mingo’s gaze, the Warlord smirked before pulling himself into the carriage and shutting the door behind him. A moment later, the carriage started off into the city.

[writtenonthesubwaywalls]

Don’t throw out my legos

Tropes: old friends/old rivals, comfort

TWs: none

Part one (next>>)

It was for the sixth night in a row Alfred found himself sitting on the floor of his living room, coffee table pushed to the side to make room for the extravagant build spread out on the wood floor. It wouldn't have taken him so long if he didn't have a "full-time job" to attend to during the day, and now he's hoping that he'll even be able to finish within the week.

He was prying two flat blocks apart with the lovely orange tool included in all of the new LEGO kits- thank god for those, he thought as he not-so-fondly remembered many a bent nail trying to pull stuck bricks apart by hand- when a voice behind him saying, "What are you doing?" make him shriek and sending both small pieces of plastic clattering across the hardwood. Some things he would own up to doing, like building with children's toys, but that god-awful sound was not one of them.

Alfred turned around slowly, not getting up from his cross legged spot on the floor. "Can I... help you?" He was greeted with platinum hair and more fabric than anyone should be legally allowed to wear and realized who was in his house- and how he must have got there. "You found the new key?"

"No, I broke the handle."

"Ah."

"You are constructing?"

He knew this conversation was about to go one of two ways, and his response here was vital to turning the tide- "I'm a Master Builder, cuckstain, what's it to you?"- and that wasn't the right answer.

"You're a master builder, eh? Like the children's movie?" Russia laughed, stepping back a few paces to get out of range of the other's swatting hands. "You wear those glasses to seem older but you're not fooling anyone."

"No, I'm just not fooling you," he grumbled in return, standing up from the floor and brushing himself off. He left his piles of beige rectangles woefully unorganized around the base of the model Colosseum to follow Ivan into the kitchen. Something about hospitality nagged at the back of his mind. "What are you doing here, anyway? Prostitutes in Russia gettin' too expensive?" He laughed and rapped his knuckles against the kitchen doorframe before walking in and getting out some of the fancy expensive coffee he saved for guests to set on, even though he didn't count on company actually staying to drink it.

"You shouldn't talk about yourself like that," Ivan replied, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms across his chest.

"Why do you care, you just made fun of me for being childish didn't you?"

"It is different, no? Because you are a child, but you are not promiscuous."

"How would you know?" It was at this point he realized almost everything he'd said up to this point was a question. "Doesn't matter, I don't care why you're here anyway." He pressed the button to start the coffee machine and turned around to face the other man in his kitchen, subconsciously mimicking his stance. "And I'm billing you for the door, bee tee dubs."

"If you don't really care why I am here, then why I am here does not matter."

"Good."

"Good."

Silence, uncomfortably.

"So I suppose you'll be staying here?" America asked to break the silence. He knew Ivan would have booked a pricy hotel room and would rather stay there, most likely, but something told him to ask.

"Is that an offer?" He quirked a brow.

"It can be."

-----

"But you don't know that there isn't a weird goop alien on the moon that can control your body like a puppet."

"Alfiya, I am certain that this is not possible."

Alfred threw a few pieces of popcorn at him. "You've never been to the moon so how do you know?"

"You have not either." He picked the pieces off of his shirt and popped them into his mouth. "I don't believe you would know what to do if you did find an alien." The self control required to not spill well protected national secrets in this moment was almost insurmountable. Almost.

Alfred checked the clock; it read 02:03. "It's awful late," he said, stretching out across the couch, "Which means we should probably head to bed soon, huh."

"I am still on my own time," he replied with a soft voice, "But if you are going to sleep I will retire to the guest room as well."

Alfred made a disappointed noise before he could stop himself, and his whole face immediately turned red, illuminated by the light coming from the TV (which he promptly turned off). Without a word to the further, he stood, and stiffly walked off, leaving Ivan to sit on the couch and figure out what exactly that meant.

Twenty minutes passed of Alfred staring, furious at himself, at the cieling, tucked tightly into his covers. "Did you have to sound so god damn desperate for interaction?" But the fury wore off, and eventually he started to doze, or come close to it, and he started to think about much more mundane things, like how he didn't have any milk so he would need to make a trip to the store early in the morning so he could make breakfast for-

Three knocks at his bedroom door. He shot up, fumbling for his glasses on the bedside table, before Ivan walked into the room. He said something softly but he was too far away for the American to hear it. He started to talk, but little came out, so he coughed to clear his throat and try again, "Can't hear ya, commie."

Instead of speaking up, he came to sit on the edge of the bed. "You sounded as though something were wrong earlier, and I... felt as though I could alleviate the situation or... something."

"I-I'm good, but thank you, I think?"

Russia sighed. "Look I know... well, my sisters keep to up to date on you, mostly." He said the next part quickly. "I know you've been having nightmares again and if you would like company for the night, you know, I could offer that to you, like we did when I..." he trailed off uncomfortably.

"A-actually," he mumbled, "I kinda would appreciate that I think."

-----

When he woke up in the morning, groggy and disoriented, in the arms of someone he hated to love, he smiled, and let himself fall back to sleep.

[vampiresuns]

Again and Again, Even Though We Know Love’s Landscape | Asra x Milenko

☽ AGAIN AND AGAIN, EVEN THOUGH WE KNOW LOVE’S LANDSCAPE ☽

2.1k words. Written for Asra Week 2021, Day 4: Bonds. In which the secret of the Scourge is discovered, Anatole and Asra fight, and Milenko has no choice but to be caught in the middle.

Title comes from the poem of the same name, by Rainer Maria Rilke. Dani’s @apprenticealec​‘s Baudelaire family has a cameo here.

You can catch up with Milasra’s pre-game canon, ‘Like Thirst Holds Water’, here.

CW: Trauma talk, mentions of captivity, suggested regicide.

Milan had only seen Anatole angry, really angry, a couple of times. While his cousin was easy to rile up, he truly believed in being kind and understanding with people and lived by it, even if sometimes (a lot of times) people exasperated him. Anatole was rather introverted but there was no doubt he was as people-leaning as can be. He believed in the freedom and fulfilment of the people with a candidness that refused naiveness. Anatole, while not immune to his own youth, was no fool. 

He had a very determined set of things which did tick him off, that made him forget he was a polite person and unleashed his vindictive wrath upon whomever dared to do any of those things. Neglectful incompetence, abuse of power, people who tried to buy him over, cruel people, or people who spoke over him too many times. Same as people who purposely messed with his schedule, when he had already explained why he had one. Being lied to for no good reason or feeling betrayed by people he loved and actively gave his time to, also angered him. 

He supposed Asra’s was a good reason, or at least, he understood the reasons behind it. However, Milenko also wanted to think Asra had a good reason to keep from all of them why Muriel wasn’t around any more.

Milenko had always known there had to be another reason as to why Asra could not stand the Count — besides him trying to ask about his parents and getting nothing, Lucio’s slumming and overall intolerable personality, or the way he ruled. Milenko didn’t know what it was exactly, but he knew it had stirred something up in Asra, something that had been happening for at least a year. He had offered Asra the opportunity to come to him, whenever he was ready. His mothers had done the same, offering their home as a safe place; so had Anatole and Paris albeit in a different way than Milenko had.

Or was it different? He didn’t know. It was love, after all. 

Anatole had found out about Muriel because he had been more or less forced to go to the Colosseum. As a general rule, no Cassano, and certainly no Radošević-Cassano, went to the building. Public entertainment was not a problem, even when it was not their brand of public entertainment. Their problem was when aristocrats, or worse, rulers, used it to provide some sort of macabre bread and circus, holding people against their wills and depriving them from their rights, grooming people in a lesser position into fighting, and another set of practices they had tried to mend for years upon years with their hold of the Consulship. 

That was, perhaps, why it was even more crucial that the Cassano never went — because all of the social failings of Vesuvia which procured the main source of “gladiators” were things the Consul was usually responsible for, having to find ways to mitigate them. However, there were always people like the Baudelaire family and their circles who did not hesitate to use their own influence to keep their business models. Owning things was not a job, exploiting others was not a job. It had gotten to such a point of tension that when Valerian Cassano was still performing, he refused to do it if a Baudelaire was in the audience, especially if it was their patriarch. His husband, Iovanus, former Consul of Vesuvia, had not been much better when he was still alive: the old Count Spada had to force him to hold meetings with them, otherwise, he plainly refused to, and Iovanus was stubborn as a mule. 

The Cassano took their civic duties seriously. Way too seriously to some people. Lucio was one of those people, which made matters worse. Count-Consul cooperation was minimal, despite certain rumours flying around in the City, and with Vlastomil as the Praetor, the criminal justice system in Vesuvia was decidingly falling apart. Lucio could say whatever he wanted, but everyone who had an ounce of critical thinking could tell what the Scourge of the South, or rather, Muriel —Milenko would not use that never, he would never use a name that wasn’t Muriel’s own— actually was to him.

Now they knew Lucio had threatened Muriel with hurting Asra, and lied to Asra about his possibility to free him if he paid his “debt”. Of course, the debt didn’t really exist, it was all a fabrication from Lucio, who did it simply because he could. Anatole was so angry about it Milenko heard him say something which he had only heard him say for the worst kind of people: “In Balkovia, people like this get murdered for less.” He was so angry, Milenko saw his cousin do something he never did — he reminded Asra everything he had offered with his friendship, how his family had opened up for him, a home, a safe place, all of it with nothing attached. For him and for Muriel. 

Nothing was attached still, Anatole wasn’t asking for retribution, he was asking for Asra to acknowledge the bond they were supposed to have, when in a time of need he could’ve used the entire weight of the Cassano to get Muriel out of it. Milenko had talked to Anatole first, caught between his friend and partner, and his cousin; Asra had wanted space anyway, so Milenko offered that to him. 

One way or another, he knew better than to tell Anatole what to do. He knew his cousin like he knew the water, so all he needed to do was let him talk and nudge him, and he would come around on his own. However, the more he heard him talk, the angrier Anatole got. 

“You know Muriel is everything he's got. Muriel didn’t talk about it either.”

“Muriel is the only person more hermetic than Asra, and if he doesn’t tell Asra first, he’s probably not telling anyone. Ever. Not to forget, he thinks we’re loud and weird. I just feel—”

“Stupid and you hate it?”

“So incredibly stupid.”

Milenko tried to tell Anatole it wasn’t his fault, and he meant it. Asra had to learn how to rely on others, instead of just enclosing himself so no harm ever came through his defences, nor to him, nor to his loved ones. Who better than Milenko to know. 

Anatole just sounded bitter and dejected when he spoke. “He knows I can tell when he’s lying to my face, Milenko. I’m not asking him to tell me everything. He can tell me he doesn’t want to talk about something and establish a boundary, which he knows he can do. I am asking my friend not to lie to my fucking face when I can literally feel he’s lying to me.”

Milenko hated how bitterness looked on him. It was wrong. Out of place. 

“I’m sorry, Nana. Maybe we should’ve all seen this sooner.”

“You saw nothing of this, didn’t you?”

Milenko sighed, being his time to sound defeated. “Yes and no. You know I can’t really control what I see. I wasn’t like it was with— with… you know—”

“Decimo?” Anatole smiled for the first time in their conversation, trying to reassure him. “You can say the name of the rat bastard, even if he doesn’t deserve to step on the same earth we do.”

“No,” Milenko said, surprising himself with how teeth-grinding angry he felt, “no he doesn’t. But what I was saying is that it wasn’t like that, when I just knew you weren’t safe. I think it’s because I’m not as close to Muriel as I am to you.”

Anatole sighed. “I think he uses protective charms. He’s never shown me much, but I’m pretty sure Muriel can do abjuration like,” Anatole clicked his cheeks, a gesture he had unknowingly copied from his friend Leonore, “better than most people we know that can.” 

They sat together for a long while until Anatole said he had to go. Milenko asked him what he would do, his cousin answering with a shrug. “At this point? I am willing to do anything in my power so this slimy, little, petty tyrant eats up everything he ever did to Vesuvia, and maybe everything he’s ever done to me in Court while we’re at it. And to Aunt Cassie, and to Iovanus, and to every living person whose life he’s fucked over. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I’ll do it, whatever it takes.”

Milenko didn’t say anything. Anatole looked determined, and once Anatole was determined to see something through, he didn’t waver.  

When he went back to find Asra, he was curled over himself, quietly crying. Asra felt the dent on the bed when Milenko sat in it, his cries erupting and resurfacing the moment he felt Milenko rubbing his back. The poet began humming a song for Asra, offering all the comfort he could. He was always so kind to him, he was always so loving to him; Milenko was always so good to him, and Asra was a mess. He knew better than to say anything, because after the three years and counting they’ve been together, Asra knew Milenko had very disarming arguments for that line of thought of his. 

When Asra spoke again, was to ask Milenko if Anatole was angry at him. 

Milenko sighed. “I think with you is more appropriate. Not for the reasons you think, though.

“What about then?” Asra asked, voice raspy through a sniffle.

“Beloved, he understands you grow at your own rate. No one is judging you or blaming you for not knowing how to deal with things, or not knowing when to reach out. He’s angry you lied to his face. Beloved, you know Anatole senses that. You know he can tell when you do it. He doesn’t care that you don’t tell him things you’re not ready to talk about, just, don’t lie to my cousin to his face.”

Milenko didn’t know what he was expecting, but Asra beginning to cry again was not it. With a lovefull sigh, he pulled his partner closer, letting Asra cling to him like an anchor to something Milenko didn’t quite understand. He knew, however, that Asra’s grief, that which he carried alone and alone only, was deep. A wound so deep it had pierced him to the very centre of his being and changed him forever.

He wanted to tell him he understood. Milenko’s first memory wasn’t a memory; it was a pit of panic ingrained in him out of something he had been told about but couldn’t really remember. He was a toddler, and the war in Balkovia was still raging on, and someone had decided Blasio, Violeta and him weren’t the right sort of people— 

Yet as Asra cried himself to sleep, Milenko helping him wash his face and handing him water to drink before he finally passed out, Milenko said nothing. Something told him it was not the right thing to say and that Asra, distressed and afraid, would not appreciate it. It was through no fault of his own, though, and Milenko knew this. Trauma and loneliness were fissures which never sealed right, no matter how well one learnt to handle them. On top of that, Asra was not a great fan of confrontation, and his argument with Anatole had hit not in one but two places because Asra now didn’t just carry the fear of Muriel being hurt (which he had been, several times) or Muriel dying, but also the one of losing Anatole for this, or Anatole doing something that he wouldn’t be able to stop and getting hurt for something Asra would assume was his fault. 

There had to be something tragic waiting to happen in a friendship so coloured by Romance. 

Milenko couldn’t sleep, so he held Asra instead, drawing idle patterns on the magician's back as he felt his soft, sleep-heavy breath tickling his skin. For the first time in the years they’ve been together, Milenko looked at their relationship and he Saw. Again and again, Asra and him chose to walk together, a love that made Milenko feel like anywhere was a field of flowers, a love that made him feel like he would burst at the seams with it. A love so heavy, no one that young should feel it, but perhaps they felt it because they were young. 

This was what the poets meant when they said Beloved, and maybe even then, when it came to him and Asra, love would not be enough. 

Morning came, and at least for the morrow, Milenko chose to love Asra again. He’d deal with the rest later.

[thehappiestgolucky]

Hi can we get a heckin uHHHH,,,, 53 for knifebat and shield boi

53. "Who cares about what they think?”

Kingdoms Edge. The large group had decided to explore the unforgiving environment for all its hidden nooks and crannys, most of it’s members very curious about each little detail. Two members, a large gothic bug and the smaller armour clad one, decided to seperate from the group - exploring the far more dangerous routes of the Kingdoms Edge. There, Grimm and Tiso made it a competition to see who could reach the top of the large cavern the fastest. Of course, there was no competition, not when Grimm simply teleported just ahead of the ant - sitting casually over the edge as he watched the warrior huffidly clamber up the slopes. “Enjoying yourself?” The grinning god teased, resting his head on his hands as the ant glared up at him on the edge.

“You’re not even trying!” Tiso spat back, pushing himself up, swaying slightly as he stood up straight and crossed his arms in annoyance. Grimm in turn only grinned wider, waving a hand nonchalantly.

“Oh please, magic does use energy might I remind you.”

The ant only rolled his eyes, “Yeah right. You too afraid to get your claws dirty?” Tiso, eye’s still furrowed downwards, smirked as he grasped onto the last wall in their way - prepared to hoist himself up the rock. “Expected that from a drama queen like you anyways.” Grimm raised an eye, standing to his full height as Tiso already made his ascent.

“Are you suggesting I can’t climb?”

“If you’re not too much of a coward!” The ant called back, already halfway up the slope and snickering to himself. Grimm only rolled his eyes, his smirk never leaving his face. With ease the large bug scaled the wall, spooking the ant as Tiso yelped with the speed Grimm overtook him - the gothic bug easily swinging himself over the edge and leaning over to grin down at Tiso with a cocky smirk. Tiso only huffed loudly, rolling his eyes as he too scaled the ledge. Before Grimm could even tease Tiso the ant raised a hand, “Yeah yeah I get it. Still makes you a drama queen.” Grimm made a faux-offended gasp, dramatically holding his hand on his chest as the two began to walk again.

“Me? How could you even begin to think of me of that callibar? Offended dear friend, simply offended.”

“As if you don’t jump at every single chance to show off.”

“Can’t let you have all the fun now can I?” The two laughed loudly, Tiso playfully punching Grimm’s arm as a building came into view. Giant, laden with chains and spikes, with a roaring crowd screaming from within the long dead corpse.

The Colosseum of Fools.

Almost immediatly, Tiso’s stance changed - relaxed to alert. His gaze flicked from looking directly at the building to the cavern opposite of it. Without a single word the ant started striding away, making no remark about the building. Not even one of Tamer. Standing in place for a little longer, Grimm wondered if the two ended up having an argument - both rather... hot-headed to say the least. They couldn’t have, he would’ve been subject to Tiso’s ranting otherwise. Of course, it was the other reason the ant barely went near the place. A sigh escaped the gothic bug as he made a step towards Tiso. Around the ant, suddenly, were two more warriors. More brazen fools for the Colosseum’s  maws he supposed.

“Oi, ye comin’ for the Colosseum too?” One of the warriors, clad in red armour and a shield and blade strapped to their back, inquired. Tiso scoffed, folding his arms and glaring at the travelling bug.

“No.” He said, simple, his anger dripping behind his words. The other warrior, coming up from behind their friend, stopped and pointed at Tiso. And hovered for a good few seconds before something seemed to dawn on them.

“’Ey wait a sec!” They loudly proclaimed, a laughter springing up, “Yer ‘hat fighter that got clocked by a Brooding Mawlek! ‘hought I knew that stupid hat!” Tiso’s claws visibly embedded themselves into his carapace, sending a furious glare at the two warriors as they started laughing.

“Yeah yeah, says some foolish warriors who won’t even make it past the first trial!” The ant spat back, though reclining into himself as he tried to stand his ground.

“Actually, made it past both trials for your information puny thing!” The warrior that recognised him shoved Tiso, the ant struggling to regain balance as the two warriors made their way back to their original goal, “Course something like you would get flattened by a nothing enemy. We’ll have fun being the new winners of the last trial!”

“Hope the dirt tasted nice!” The red warrior called back as they entered the Colosseum, the last remaining echoes of laughter bouncing around the walls. Tiso stood, hunched slightly over glaring at the ground with his pride attacked. Grimm strode to his side, giving the now gone warriors a dissaproving stare.

“Hmm, big talk for two warriors that haven’t even reached the same trial. Obviously compensating for something, should they have felt that need to try and belittle anyone who comes their way.” He remarked, eyes narrowing slightly into slits. He only heard a harsh scoff from his friend, as the ant dusted himself off, shaking slightly.

“Let’s just go.” Tiso deadpanned, glancing away from Grimm as the larger bug looked down at him. Worry prodded at the back of Grimm’s mind.

“Did they bother you?”

“I’m fine!”

Well. That was almost expected from Tiso. Never was the one to try and confront his problems.

“Tiso.” The gothic bug started, trying to be gentle without coming across as demeaning, “Don’t lie. Their words bothered you.” The tensing from Tiso only confirmed it to Grimm, much to the latters worry, “My friend, they’re fools who try to boost their own morale by destroying those of others. Who cares about what they think?”

“I do!” Tiso yelled, his voice cracking as his fist collided with the rocks beside him, tiny pebbles and dust crumbling underneath it. His breathing was harsh, biting back tears as his body began to tremble.

“Why?”

The glare Grimm recieved was expected, but it still stung with how much anger and bitterness lay behind the ants eyes, as his voice became hoarse and venomous. “You. You know damn well why I care.” Tiso only stopped as his breathing hiccuped, silent tears beginning to drip down. It only made him more frustrated, which only made more come.

“Tiso.” Grimm started again, this time far more gentler, placing a hand on Tiso’s shoulder, “I do. What I am saying is you... shouldn’t care.” The ant glared up, raising a hand to wipe away the tears furiously, “My friend, take it from one who has many, many years experience. Other’s opinions don’t truly matter. Not the ones that they are sharing.”

“Yeah right.” The ant replied bitterly. A sob escaped him, hand over his mouth. Trying desperetly to hold back his emotions, failing as he started softly crying.

“Tiso. Do complete strangers opinions truly matter?” “Y-yeah...”

“Do they?” Grimm’s hand moved to wrap around Tiso’s shoulders, gently urging the ant into a half hug. Tiso complied eventually, leaning his head against Grimm as he continued to breathily sob. “Or is your mind just telling you that it matters? That others perception of you is the only thing that matters. Or is it that cruel piece of your mind trying to put you down again?” There was a small silence.

“I-I guess...” Tiso sighed shakily. “It’s just... I should’ve...” he swallowed thickly, “I should’ve been able to win that-”

“Tiso.” It wasn’t harsh, but firm. Grimm wasn’t going to let Tiso put himself in his usual self loathing spiral. “Nevermind what could’ve happened. What’s passed has passed. You have since learned from then - moved forward from it. Whether you believe it or not, you have improved Tiso.” The ant let out a dry, bitter chuckle.

“Why do you even bother with me?” It was quiet, a whisper.

“I genuinely enjoy your company.” That seemed to do it, as the gothic bug wrapped his cape to hide Tiso as the ant shook - sobbing loudly, hugging around Grimm tightly. Grimm laid a comforting hand on Tiso’s head, gently rubbing small circles to calm him down. When Tiso eventually stopped, he moved himself from the embrace, wiping his face from the used up tears - sniffling. “How are you feeling?”

“A... little better I guess.” Tiso shrugged, rubbing his temples before glancing around.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m sure.” The ant gave one glance towards the Colosseum, “They’re dead.” He remarked quietly, making Grimm chuckle in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Oh absolutely. Perhaps to a Great Hopper?”

“Pfft! Them? Na, Primal Aspid will take them down easily.” Tiso started moving, Grimm following, the two chuckling amongst themselves.