#mmmm angst...

[bridgertonphd]

BRIDGERTON 3.08 | “Into the Light”

[whathehonestfuk]

Steve that doesnt stay dead in a world where you can feel your soulmate die

whether eddie feels him die when they're kids, or billy and the plate, or the russians or getting dragged to the bottom of the lake or any combination of any of the above eddie is convinced his soulmate is dead and has no way of gaining proof otherwise

until the bats kill him, temporarily.

maybe steve tells him right as he wakes up that he felt eddie die and has to explain that he has died at least once before (maybe steve isnt aware he had died and eddie tells him he felt steve die)

maybe steve doesnt tell him for whatever reason and eddie discovers steve is his soulmate minutes before finding out steve doesnt stay dead because steve sacrificed himself to prevent eddie from getting hurt again

[harmonysanreads]

so my thoughts are inspired by your Concept and a flame reaver smut i read the other day that i can no longer find [i could swear i rbed it or at least saved it somewhere but its just gone somehow???].

!!!!!SPOILER WARNING FOR PEOPLE WHO HAVEN’T DONE THE QUEST!!!!!!

-

-

-

-

-

Imagine phainon taking reader for himself in the final cycle. He has been running endlessly, burning himself to ashes just for a chance to be with his darling. And now it has all come to an end, and he's a shell of what he was but oh does the desire still burn within him. So, with all coming to an end and him knowing he may just cease to exist, why not indulge himself for a fraction of time??? Hasn’t he suffered enough???? He doesn’t want a rewars but can he not show himself an ounce of mercy in dying with the radiantmemory of his darling???

In my mind he simply snaps and snatches darling right from the front of chrysos heirs. Like his trailer showed anaxa protecting hyacine, reader was with them behind anaxa and flame reaver!khaslana simply grabs darling's neck and take them away with him through his portal before anyone can blink. And then he's almost crushing darling against his chest while darling is fighting and crying hysterically from fear. Somehow his mask flies off mid-brawl and darling freezes. Khaslana just laughs dejectedly while cradling the face of a shell-shocked darling. But i feel like he'd also be very volatile during such times so he'll try to kiss darling wherever he can reach. And when darling finally manages to ask why he's doing this he puts darling's hand against his cheek [im choosing to ignore his scorching skin] and simply says you were promised to me 33 million epochs ago lol.

i haven’t completely developed this thought but i thunk he ends up claiming darling as he wants and probably slips off some details of What Is Happening. Heavy dubcon vibes fir this part but i guess it can be developed in a different way. Unfortunately my braincells have guven up so I'm releasing this thought in your askbox instead hehehe

Sorry it got so long but i wanted to give u the details too hjfhdjg take care and habe a lovely day/night!!!

In the last stroke of the Eternal Recurrence, ‘Khaslana’ was bestirred by an old, numb ache.

The shimmering rays of the new sun had begun to bleed into the dark skies, heralding the arrival of the promised dawn. They ushered in the dawn-denied one to point his blade at the quill of fate, for the last time. The 33550336th encore of the scherzo masquerading as a requiem.

Through the depths of Khaslana's eroded mind, a single line of code rebelled — pushing him away from cognition and to the voracious tides of madness.

An unfortunate you, thus protected by the gentle trill that descended from beyond the sky, held tightly by the him of this cycle and oh, how unfortunate that it bears repeating, so easily slipped from that sanctuary and were swept alongside those howling waves.

Khaslana wonders, why did he let a reckless urge consume him at the very last second? Epochs of resistance crumbled before the simple realization that yes, this really is the end.

So, at the titular end of a tragedy, does it matter if the villain indulges for a second?

What skipped past Khaslana's mind when he made that decision, were the seeds of Destruction far too intertwined with his being.

The Gaze of Ruin that'd lingered on him throughout his arduous journey, casted its blessing, the flames of that glance burned you away.

A lone tear that'd escaped from your eyes caressed his crumbling visage, despite the billions of coreflames blazing with heat inside of him, it felt cold. So dreadfully cold.

But this isn't the first time you'd died in his arms — a dissonant echo flares through his mind.

The cycle will reset again, you'll be reborn, you'll experience happiness again, you'll be with him again weaving dreams of that prophesized tomorrow in no time! Right?

Right...?

[galactic-rhea]

Be right back, I'm going to Disney to pitch them a SW mini series that's medical horror and the first episodes covers the first physicians when the temple started taking in children.

The second is a doctor that, by the generosity of their heart, decided to go undercover and help treating some slaves, among them a very very weird kid.

The third is during the clone wars and the sort of organs black market and the highly requested and expensive jedi stem cells or organs. Shady doctor from this market is hired to maybe try to clone Jedi or create artificial force sensitives. It's very grimmy and there's corpses.

Somehow they get Anakin's DNA and try to experiment with it for a super force sensitive. It goes Very Wrong.

The fourth is during the Empire, a Doctor is taken out of jail by Palpatine and it's all very secretive, no talking, no communication devices, signing up confidentiality papers, scorted everywhere by red guards.

The fith, is post ROTJ, and is about a researcher or a doctor, having to basically go back from scratch re: force sensitives and their weird metabolism.

Disney please, i will even find a way to put Grogu and Pedro Pascal in there. I will wear a cowboy hat

[catsoupki]

Bakugou isn’t a hero. Right now, he’s a bystander who is helpless on the train. Around him, people gasp, already pulling their phones out to record the scene outside. He won’t be caught, idle. He pushes his cap downwards and pulls his mask up.

He looks outside the window, catching a silhouette that continues to wreak havoc. Pro-hero Shouto tries to detain you, clashes of fire and ice all but explode just to contain your whirlwinds of chaos. He looks at the wanted villain, hair whipping in the wind, he can almost smell your shampoo.

You said you wouldn’t be here today. He’s on his way to your apartment. To cook. Like normal people. You said it’s just your gang, that you have nothing to do with today’s raid.

You lied, he realises. His cap is down and his mask is drawn upwards, his own sweat condensates and gathers as droplets on his face, on his grimace, on his frowning lips.

The Gods are on his side today: both the number one and three heroes are present and fighting, but their quirks are useless against yours. His nitroglycerin-fuelled detonations aren’t there to control you, they aren’t there to help you.

Maybe he should’ve been Dynamight today. He could’ve blown up pillars of evacuated buildings and created rubble and dust— a screen of smoke and mirrors for your escape. He looks at the broadcast on the train, your face on a mugshot, with a news anchor talking with faux crocodile tears, how you must be taken down for your destruction has gone on for far too long. Perhaps, the public has yet to realise, why the heroes that dealt with Tomura and All for One —destruction’s reincarnate— can’t —won’t— take you down. He lied, he realises.

He can’t love you.

[signanothername]

Emotional numbness

I like to think that stage 1 killer is either on the verge of a break down 24/7 or completely numb due to the emotional stress and struggle with knowing what’s real and not

And well, it only puts more stress on him cause Killer really fears the thought of losing his ability to feel anything at all

[azoredits]

Since it's clear Nya will most likely win in the poll I had posted I drew her-

Hehehehehe angst

[sp00ky9]

Wolfwood/vashwood animatic!! Trimax implied spoilers ahead u have been warned

[suppernerd]

Small ROUGH sketch comic for the opening scene of “pines mansion mystery”

Ford is running for the worlds worst caretaker award

Original scene!!⬇️

[locosquif]

Did I cook

[kankri-vantas-alter]

Tw :gore , blood , horror

Idk what gif i like more honestly but i love this horror game its not. Boring at least. And i love. Story telling like. The one in the game -🕳️ folykl

Honestly this looks. Okay in my opinion but i don't know really. Might hate it later

Art is not mine all credits go to respective artists

[nexahexagon]

tr!Sneeg and tr!Ros fic, exploring the idea of them both being Moth and Butterfly hybrids, respectively. Specifically, that moths squeak as a warning to predators.

Ever since Ros was turned into a butterfly at the Snail Race, she had a much larger connection with Sneeg. It wasn't a lot, but it was more than they had before. 

At first, it was awkward. He was hesitant to assist her in tasks involving her wings, giving her the space to ask him herself. It was a long process of small and gentle corrections over the span of a week until she could comfortably tuck her wings under her cape. 

She quickly realized why Sneeg hid his antennae under his hood, as well. While she was a great deal shorter than him, she still would occasionally smack them on door frames and low-hanging branches, making them sting for minutes after. She could only imagine how many times Sneeg would have hit his on objects before he conceded to a hood. 

And there was also the very beginning of her transformation, where he warned her of the fragility of her scales. It shocked her to find out that Butterfly wings were just a ton of tiny scales. But he warned her that, if they weren’t covered, her wings could rip easily. 

Foolish had made her a cape after hearing so, one that matched the banners of the kingdom. It was silk on the inside, and a velvety feel on the outside. Apparently, he’d gotten the material recommendation from Sneeg, who’s hooded cape was the same. 

And above all that, Ros became more attuned to Sneeg’s squeaks. She hadn’t heard it before, or it was too quiet for her to catch. But now it was as loud as a snap of her fingers- and as quick as one too. 

The first time she heard it was when she was sitting in the castle’s kitchen, making food just before bed. Sneeg had shown up an hour earlier, talking about needing more materials for arrows. Normal, mundane things. Nothing special. 

He asked if she had any feathers, and she directed him to the storage chests just above the kitchen. She tailed him as he went to check, enjoying spending time with someone from the kingdom. He had gone through five barrels when a light squeak startled her. 

“Did you hear that?” She asked. She had been in a daze, it being so late. She was nodding off already before she’d heard the noise, and wasn’t sure if it was in her head or not. And not only was it a noise, but it was like a physical vibration. Like the noise had traveled down her spine for a split second. 

“Hear what?” Sneeg closed the barrel he had searched, his eyes cutting across to the staircase, then the windows. They narrowed suspiciously, and his hands immediately fell to his sides, ready to conjure his weapons if needed. 

Two more squeaks filled the room after his words, in quick succession of each other. It was very unnerving, and shook her breathing. Chills chased after the vibrations, making her shudder. 

“That! You don’t hear that? The high buzz noise?” She, in response to Sneeg’s suspicion, pulled out her spear and turned her back to him defensively. She felt, surprisingly, threatened.

They stood in silence for a few seconds, Ros trying very hard to listen for the noise again. She felt a little silly, getting so worked up over a small squeak. But it felt like a strange warning. She heard it one more time. Behind her. 

She turned to Sneeg, who held a sheepish grin. 

“It’s. God, I forgot you can hear that now.” He reached up and pulled the hood off of his head, his antennae sticking upwards. It felt as though she was able to properly listen to him now, as if she wasn't able to before. His voice held a crisp that she found unfamiliar, the sound of his voice rattling like crystal marbles in her head.

“It’s a moth thing. It’s. It’s supposed to “scare” enemies, or make you nervous, or something.” He shrugged, seemingly embarrassed having to explain this. “I do it when I’m frustrated. Humans don’t hear it very well, and they aren’t affected by it. I think Demons hear it, Bad might have reacted to it once. Um.” 

He, through the explanation, was scanning the barrels intensely. Not seeing if they held what he needed, but rather was avoiding looking directly at her. 

“I don’t think butterflies make the same noise? Might be why you got jumpy.” His eyes landed on the barrel he last checked, and he continued his search. 

They sat in silence for a few seconds, the only sound being Sneeg’s rummaging through the barrels. 

“You don’t have to stop just because it scared me.” Ros rested a hand on Sneeg’s arm to get his attention. She found it interesting. Something new that brought them closer.

“I’m not gonna do it if it’s not necessary, Ros.” He grumbled, and Ros delighted in this clear communication. Even with him mumbling under his breath, nearing a whisper, she still felt his words dance through the air and shake her antennae. He was practically speaking directly into her ear.

She found herself wishing he would keep the hood down more often. There were very few things bridging their connection to each other. She thought Clown was an important part of that, and with him gone she would gladly grasp at straws to keep whatever was holding her and Sneeg together strong.

And in truth, finding out that the large, scary, ominous, high-powered smith would squeak when he was scared or frustrated? Well. 

She found it endearing.

“What?” Sneeg turned to her, an incredulous, baffled grin on his face. Ros’s face flushed hot from embarrassment. 

“Not like-! I mean, I just never expected something so. So,, you know? From you!” She sputtered in defence. She hadn’t meant to say that last part of her thoughts aloud, and was deeply mortified. To call her very scary and intimidating friend endearing? She wished her reset would come sooner.

But Sneeg simply laughed and reached a hand to tousle her hair. She let out a surprised laugh herself and ducked away. And although a small gesture, she noticed how naturally and easily he avoided roughing up her antennae. She briefly wondered if anyone else would have taken that into account.

“Whatever,” he groaned dramatically, “just keep this squeaky business between the two of us, alright?” There was a playful threat in there that eased Ros’s embarrassment slightly.

“You got it!” 

He closed the barrel he was rummaging through and turned only to pat her on the shoulder. He began setting off downstairs and to his room.

“I’m headed back to my island, let me know if you need anything.” He called over his shoulder. She said her goodbye’s as he descended the stairs and began making her way to her room.

“Ow!” Sneeg’s exclamation shook through her head and a phantom stab of pain lanced just behind her eyes. She tenderly reached for her antennae. He must have forgotten to put his hood back on.

She made a mental note to raise the height of all of the doors in the castle.

[phantomskeep]

The Early Bird Gets The Worm - Chapter 2

The Early Bird Gets The Worm

Chapter 2 -  A Bird, a Babe, and a Butler All Walk Into a Cave

Written by @agent-sushi-fbi & myself uwu

Read it on AO3 here!

Masterpost | Chapter One | Chapter Three

When Danny had first ventured into the darkened alleyways of this dirty city, he didn’t expect to run into some weirdo in a skin-tight black and blue suit. Fellow dumpster divers? Yeah, sure. He figured that fighting off a family of possums was normal when scrounging around for any scrap of something to fill his stomach.

He didn’t even know where he ended up honestly. Danny got a headache anytime he thought too hard about the details of where he was or how he got there or even who he was. He knew his name was Danny. He knew he was small (he had looked in a mirror, thank you, but it felt wrong somehow, like a funhouse mirror upside down) and he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be small. But thinking about stuff like that hurt a lot–kind of like a metal fist bashing into his skull.

Danny wasn’t really sure how he knows what that feels like, yet he was sure that was the best comparison.

What he certainly wasn’t expecting at tonight's garbage dump feast was being kidnapped by a vigilante. Was it really kidnapping though if he kind of went along willingly out of pure curiosity? 

Although, man, was he glad (not that he'd ever admit it out loud) that this random vigilante decided to kidnap him tonight. After Nightwing had bundled Danny up onto his motorcycle once their meet-up with Batman was done and peeled out of the inner city of Gotham, the bird-themed hero brought him to a hidden entrance in the hills that led to a literal cave. He had watched when they pulled up as a reinforced steel panel lifted into the rocks above their head, leaving a gaping maw that Nightwing just zoomed into. Lights activated with motion sensors as they sped into a huge room that was full to the brim with gadgets and computers that lit up at their arrival. Danny could only stare in awe of how awesome and improbable it all seemed.

Seriously, how crazy were these Fruit Loops?

The man had started explaining some boring stuff about the cave when they arrived, but the massive freaking T-rex had immediately caught Danny’s eye and he stopped paying attention to Nightwing. It was like a switch was flipped, his cautious suspicion he’d been holding onto was thrown out the window, and now all that he could think about was flying himself up to the giant dinosaur and touching it. Danny was sure if you looked at his face at that moment, there was no other thought behind his eyes beyond must touch right freaking now.

Nightwing must have sensed the gremlin energy pouring off of him because next thing Danny knew, the collar of his jacket was being grabbed before he could move from his spot at the entrance. He pouted up at the man, demanding with his eyes that Nightwing let go so he could play on the dinosaur like he was a kid. But wait, maybe he should say because he’s a kid? He is a kid right, being all small? But he still wasn’t sure if that was correct. He mentally shrugged and thought: Eh, who cares? All Danny could see was shiny scales glinting in the fluorescent lights lining the cave.

And Danny? Danny was but a simple man (boy…maybe a crow?). He sees a shiny thing and must have the shiny thing.

“Danny, don't even think about it,” Nightwing intoned. He gripped Danny's jacket a little tighter and pulled him closer to the man's side. He totally did not pout at being squished into the vigilante. One hundred percent, no siree. No pouting here.

“Think about what? What are you thinking that I'm thinking?” Danny shrugged, acting casual while his eyes flitted back and forth between the vigilante and dinosaur. “There's no thoughts going on up here, I can promise you that.” He knocked on the side of his head to prove his point, but Nightwing looked unimpressed.

“Master Nightwing, I presume you brought this child back to the cave for medical attention?” Danny's nose bunched in confusion as he heard another, older and British, voice enter the chat. He turned his head around, looking for the source and spotted an older guy in a butler outfit paired with a mask, much like Nightwing’s, appear around the corner.

“Agent A! Good timing!” Nightwing jovially responded, yanking Danny around like he weighed nothing (shut up, he was a BIG MAN!) and presented him like a scrungly, dumpster-infested gift to Agent A. Danny crossed his arms and attempted to sit criss-cross while hovering in the air in response. He hoped it showed both men how displeased he was being carried around like a kitten.

Agent A only raised a single eyebrow, humming as he set down the tray he had been holding on a nearby table. Danny felt a little awkward at the look, like the man was able to be disappointed in him for nearly trying to be a brat and was waiting for Danny himself to realize it. 

“Hmm, well Master Nightwing, would you be so kind as to introduce the young Mister to me?” Agent A's attention (thankfully) shifted to Nightwing and Danny huffed a near silent breath in relief. 

Danny shifted uneasily, eyeing the new person. “How do I know you’re not some sort of government spy trying to steal my spleen?”

Nightwing let out a tired sigh, patting Danny’s greasy hair with his free hand. “This is Danny, he’s in need of some medical attention like you said. Starting with an attitude adjustment, I think.”

The young boy spluttered, smacking away Nightwing’s gloved hands. His feet dropped to the ground as he glared up at the vigilante who had finally decided to let him go. “I am perfectly fine, thank you very much! You’re the one who kidnapped me, so what kind of attitude should I have in the first place?”

“You came with me willingly!” Nightwing cried out, throwing his arms over his head in exasperation.

“You bribed me with sandwiches! I see no sandwiches here!” Danny rebutted, tilting his chin up and moving around like he was towering over Nightwing (he decided it was best to ignore his current height).

“Danny, you’ll get your sandwiches after Agent A and I check you over--”

“You’re a dirty liar and I hope you know that I will haunt you in your nightmares.” He squinted his eyes at Nightwing and Danny made a mental promise to himself to follow through with the threat…whether he knew how to do it or not. He would figure it out though if he didn't get the food he was supposed to be shoving in his mouth right about now.

Nightwing just sighed, bringing a hand up to rub the bridge of his nose. “Okay, kiddo. Whatever you say, I'm too tired to argue.” Danny pumped a little fist in the air at his win.

A small cough caught the quarreling black-haired duo’s attention. They both shifted their gazes back to where Agent A was watching them bicker. Danny resolutely ignored how they acted in sync and shifted a few inches away.

“If it may please you, Mister Danny, while Nightwing gets you set up in the medical bay I can make you a few simple sandwiches.” The older man turned a pointed look towards the youngest present. “Are there any allergies or preferences that I should be aware of?” When Danny shook his head negatively, Agent A turned to leave for…wherever he had spawned from before.

“Thank you, A.” The vigilante called to his retreating back before starting to herd Danny over to a well-lit corner of the literal freaking cave with actual bats. He still couldn’t get over it.

Danny glared up at Nightwing, eyebrows scrunched in a face of pure childish pout. “I would like to state that I am doing this under heavy protest.”

“Duly noted.”

The medical bay was stocked full of random bits and bobs of probably important looking equipment. From IV lines to a full x-ray machine, Danny had to take a moment and question just how loaded these guys must be to have this stuff at the ready. None of this looked second-hand or even well-used to his untrained eyes, though he couldn't remember if he really had much of a reference for this stuff. As he was ushered onto a cot, Danny couldn’t help the shiver of fear involuntarily creeping up his spine as he sat down.

Watching Nightwing move around brought a thin feeling of panic racing through his veins. The sterile smell, brightly unadorned walls, and the constant hum of devices plugged into every outlet. There was a mayo cart near the end of the cot he sat on, not much on it but Danny couldn’t tear his eyes away from the larger-than-they-should be tweezers and the forceps peeking out from under the sheet covering it. 

“Alright, Danno, we’re just gonna check you over real quick,” Nightwing told him, bustling around the small space comfortably. Danny felt like he couldn't breathe at the nickname for some reason he couldn’t recall. But that wasn't right? Because he was pretty sure he didn't have to breathe, which is wrong because a human should be breathing, right? He raised a shaky hand to his chest and yep, it was definitely not moving. Danny had stopped breathing at some point without realizing and it wasn’t affecting him, which was weird. But he still hadn't stopped watching the gleaming silver taunting him as though the instruments would start moving on their own towards him. So, he couldn’t bring himself to care about his own unnaturalness. “Now, I'm not the one with a history of medical care and knowledge. I know more than most. but I’ve only got enough in this old noggin for some basic first aid. Agent A will be the one actually looking you over in a bit.”

Nightwing continued to chatter on, but Danny couldn't bring himself to focus on his words until the man stepped in front of the instruments, blocking them from Danny’s line of sight. He sucked in a sharp breath for the first time in minutes, but Nightwing didn’t act like he heard him as he reached over to remove Danny's jacket. 

“Now, real quick I'm just going to do a surface check,” Nightwing rubbed Danny’s hands between his own rapidly. “Jeez kid, you're like an ice cube! We'll get you some warm clothes after we make sure you don't have any injuries. I'm gonna look for any bruises or cuts or anything broken so I can bring it to A's attention. Okay?”

Danny didn't respond. His eyes had started scanning the room and landed on a tiny centrifuge on the counter a few feet away. It looked off, it wasn't spinning at least, but the sight of it caused questions to blur in his mind. Were they going to take his blood? Why would they do that? Lots of reasons he knew, but couldn't name a single one. Why couldn’t he think of them? Would anything happen if they did take his blood? Why was he worried? Was there something that Danny should know, should remember, that he just couldn't? It was important, it had to be important! They were important, they were terrifying, they were his everything, they were his end–!

He felt his mind screech to a sudden halt, narrowing in on the blinking red light of the power button. The centrifuge just taunted him innocently as his mind panicked. Danny felt his chest going up and down, but his lungs still felt empty while his heart beat so fast he could feel it in his throat. He could hear his own heart beating. 

What if he was some kind of monster behind his memories? What if Nightwing and Batman arrested him, handed him over to someone? No, no, no! He couldn't let them! He couldn't go back, not to that place or to them--they hurt him, there was no way he'd go back! Danny refused to be sent back to the—!

Suddenly his thoughts stopped. Danny felt light-headed, all of his questions still swimming in his mind, but not as loud. He felt…calmer, but not at the same time? Who was he thinking of? What was he about to remember?

“Danny? Danny, bud, you alright there? It's not normal for you to be so quiet.” A voice spoke next to him, low and anxious but Danny's mind didn't really register it was Nightwing. He just sat there, his limbs heavy and eyelids sinking in exhaustion. He's not sure why he's suddenly so tired, but he felt his mind drift to the thought of flying through the skies with a blue shape holding onto him tightly–laughter chasing them in the wind.

********************************

To say Dick was panicking would be an understatement…He was absolutely losing his shit. One minute, Danny was perfectly fine (if a little bit nervous) but the next he was dissociating and hyperventilating! But without the very important part where he breathes! His little chest was moving up and down rapidly, but there didn't seem to be any air coming in or out of the boy.

“Danny? Danny, bud, you alright there?” Dick smiled, hoping it was a bit comforting. “It's not like you to be so quiet.” He spoke in hushed tones, but hoped that his goading brought the boy back to his former spunk for even a moment and snap him out of his altered mental state. When he got no response out of it though, which worried Dick even more. 

When Danny’s eyes had rolled back into his head and he passed out, just as Dick was reaching out for him? He felt his heart stop. But when Dick barely managed to catch the small boy before he fell off the cot? That was the final straw. He quickly cradled Danny in his arms and faced the main portion of the cave.

“Agent A! I need your help, come quick!” 

A hurrying of footsteps alerted him to Alfred arriving, but after calling out for assistance, Dick's eyes never left Danny’s face. There was a clatter as Alfred hastily dropped the sandwich tray he had been carrying onto the counter, the older man stopping next to Dick with a distraught expression. “What has happened here?”

“I don’t know, one second he seemed fine and then he just stopped talking!” Dick reached a hand up to gently cradle Danny’s small face, turning his head up to look at his pseudo-grandfather. “I tried asking him a question and he just passed out all of a sudden.”

With a quick nod, Alfred took Danny from his arms and laid him down on his side. Dick couldn’t help but notice just how small the boy looked laying on the adult sized cot. His breathing was short and shallow–nothing like how it was supposed to be when someone was sleeping restfully.

“Get the oximeter set up on him, lad. We’ll need to take his temperature and get a baseline.” With a determined nod, the young man set off to do just that. As he clipped the small, child-sized plastic equipment Bruce kept in the med bay for whatever reason, Dick couldn’t help but run through what had happened prior to him absconding with Danny to the top of Wayne Tower. Did he notice anything wrong with the kid besides the obvious? Did Danny act like he was protecting a wound of any kind while they spoke? He had no idea, but he sure was some detective for not noticing. Dick scoffed at his own thoughts and rushed back to Alfred.

“Was there anything that might have happened to cause any kind of head injury to the young lad?” Alfred questioned as he slipped a thermometer under the unconscious boy’s tongue. He held it there, never looking away from his patient as he questioned Dick. “Any symptoms of a fever or cough that may indicate he is sick or suffering from an underlying issue?”

Dick shook his head, impatiently waiting for the oximeter to give him something. When it continued to show nothing, he felt his heart sink. “Not anything I was there for. The kid was dumpster diving when I found him…looking for food.” He closed his eyes, trying to recall what exactly had happened earlier that night. “He kept swaying around when I got close to him though, like he was exhausted or something but trying not to show it.”

Alfred hummed, pulling the thermometer from Danny’s mouth as it beeped a cheery tune. “His temperature is not where it should be, but not out of the question with the weather and how thinly he is dressed.” The butler gave a sharp nod, depositing the used thermometer off to the side and moving towards the blood draw station. “We’ll need to perform a blood panel on Mister Danny, it’s a very high possibility that his blood sugar is low, as well.”

Dick felt his shoulders deflate, glancing helplessly between the kid he knew he was getting attached way too fast to and his grandfather. “And what if his blood sugar isn't the problem we're having here? What if something else is going on?”

Alfred's eyes softened a little around the edges, his steps a little less hurried, though still confident nonetheless. “Then that is simply one diagnosis we will be able to remove from the realm of possibility. Now, please help me get Mister Danny cleaned up a bit. I daresay, we cannot have the child catching an infection from the street grime finding its way into an injection site.”

“Got it–okay.” Dick pushed his shaking hands to still as he hurried over to one of the cabinets alongside the walls. He opened the drawer housing the many rags they use in these types of situations, a box of alcohol wipes, and a small bucket he filled with water at the sink to take over to Danny’s bedside. Setting them all on the nearby mayo cart, he started gently scrubbing away the thick layer of filth coating the young boy’s arm until the skin turned near pink. Doing his best to not think about just what was happening, the vigilante cleaned up the young boy with Bat-trained efficiency.

“He’s ready,” Dick announced as he swiped an alcohol wipe repeatedly over the now-cleaned flesh. Alfred hummed as the older man wrapped a latex band around Danny’s upper arm, watching as the young boy’s veins slowly thickened with blood swelling. With a gentle precision, Alfred prodded around before reaching a hand out to press lightly above the tourniquet. Instinctively, Dick passed over a needle and syringe to him, keeping the empty tiger tubes in his palm until Alfred asked for them.

Just as the cool metal of the needle began to poke into Danny’s veins, the boy’s fist snapped out, almost knocking the empty tubes out of Dick’s hands. They were shocked enough by the response–both men startled more than they expected–that Dick found himself taking a half step back and Alfred was pulling the needle away from Danny's arm to ensure he didn't poke the boy in the wrong spot by accident. 

“Danny?” Dick called out, his surprise hurriedly making way for relief. “Oh my, Danny! You scared me–” Snarling greeted his approach and instantly stopped Dick in his tracks. His arms were held up in an aborted hug as he watched Danny inch upwards and lean forward so his weight was supported by his wrists. It couldn't have been comfortable, but Dick wasn't sure if Danny even realized as his eyes remained tightly shut–lines appearing around them that made him seem so much older than his young age was.

Danny’s noises intensified when Alfred began to move again, the needle still held tightly within his right hand. Although they didn't open during all of this, Danny's eyes were trained on the gleaming silver as though it personally offended him. Dick’s gaze flitted between the two others for a moment before he had an idea.

Lowering himself a little so he wasn't too tall in this moment, settling into a crouched position that put him eye level with Danny, Dick took a deep breath. “Alfie, I need you to take a step back for me.”

The old butler raised a brow and did not move, keeping his eyes on Danny with continuous aborted attempts to reach the child. “Master Dick, I do not know what you are planning–”

“Sorry Alf, I just need you to trust me,” he held a hand out, interrupting the butler and accepting his consequences for later. “I've got an idea, but I need you to step back a little first.”

Alfred tsked in disapproval, but did as Dick asked and the young man watched as a little bit of tension left Danny's face. “Okay okay, now I need you to slowly lower the hand that’s holding the needle.”

“Now, really Master Dick.” Alfred didn't complain, but he made his displeasure known. “This young man is now my patient, so I must treat him. Would you please allow me?”

Dick resisted the urge to sigh. He felt like right now was not the best time to be arguing, it could only lead to Danny running from them, from him. Dick didn't know how he knew that probability, but he felt it in his very bones. Every second they wasted, he knew that it would lead to Danny running as fast as his small legs would take him.

“Alfred, please, I'm asking you to trust me right now,” he begged. Waving a hand at Danny’s current state as though to prove his point. “There's something happening, and I think that we need to follow Danny's lead here. If I know grunts and growls from B, then this is an angry or scared one. We have to step back, ok?”

Alfred glanced away from Danny long enough to stare into Dick's eyes and sigh under his breath (Dick didn't actually hear the noise, but he knew it happened). But without argument, he moved his arm down slowly, never letting go of the needle–but rather just removing it from Danny's direct line of sight. The snarls didn't completely disappear, but they lowered enough in volume that he could almost say the kid sounded like an old fridge humming to life for the first time in years.

Turning to the (obviously freaked out) child in front of him, Dick put on his best showman's smile for him. “Danno, it's okay, no one will hurt you.” There was no response, not that Dick thought there would be. “No one will ever touch you again without your okay on it, is that alright?” 

A blank stare was the only reply Dick received, making his worry increase. He did his best to not show it, his smile steady and sure as he kept gently talking to the scared boy in front of him. “What’s got you all worked up? Must not like needles, huh, bud?” With the utmost caution, Dick slowly reached out a hand. When Danny’s snarling continued as before without raising in volume, the vigilante kept creeping closer and closer. “Needles are pretty scary. I used to hate getting shots, y’know? Batman would have to bribe me with ice cream to get me to do it.” Dick dropped his voice to a stage whisper as he gently touched Danny’s shaking arm. “He still has to bribe me, even if I’m not scared anymore. It gets me free ice cream, how could I say no to that?”

Alfred chuckled despite himself at Dick's words, no doubt remembering all the times he had to quell Dick's tantrums when he had to get all of his vaccinations after moving in. “It is true, Mister Danny. Master Nightwing was quite the rambunctious child and the main aggressor in Batman's multitude of gray hairs coming in early.”

Dick frowned at Alfred. He wasn't that bad growing up! But before he could protest his angelic childhood nature, he heard a quiet snort. Whipping his head back around from where he was about to defend himself to Alfred, Dick watched as the lines on Danny's face receded a bit and there was a tiny quirk to his lips.

Deciding sometimes it's better to join them than try and beat them, Dick moved forward. “Oh yeah, for sure, I was a total monster! There was this one time where Batman told me I couldn't go on patrol with him after I kept playing with Poison Ivy's plants,” Dick started in a hushed whisper, as though he were telling a secret. Danny leaned forward, his eyes still closed but not as tightly and he thought he could almost make out a sliver of color from them. “Well, I couldn't stand for that, of course! I was all of eight-years-old and totally knew better than Batman himself, so I went out anyway but in the opposite direction of his patrol. I figured if he didn't see me, he wouldn't know.” Dick shrugged casually, leaning back a bit with a faux-cocky smirk.

“How, pray tell, did that end up working out for you, Master Nightwing?” Alfred was smirking. That was never a good sign for any of them. 

Dick looked away from the old butler, keeping Danny in his peripheral as he muttered. “I slipped on some ice that Mr Freeze had left on the ground and slid into the middle of traffic. Batman got a call from Gordon about ‘an extra traffic light the city didn't authorize’ and told him to come get me.” Dick pouted remembering how Bab's’ Dad kept chuckling at him the whole time Bruce gave him a silent lecture on the police station roof. “I was grounded from everything, not just patrol, for a month. A whole month!”

A small huff of laughter caught Dick’s attention, and he could see Danny’s shoulders lower from their tense position. Dick gave a quick glance over him, checking for anything wrong, and just seeing that the little boy was much more relaxed. Within seconds his little head was lolling around like it weighed more than he could handle. Dick jumped up and grabbed hold of Danny's shoulders before he could slump over and fall off the cot. With the same amount of caution one would use to approach a rabid dog, Dick slowly laid the once again unconscious child back down. He stayed still for a few tense moments, waiting for Danny to react negatively at the change in position. When there was no aggressive movement, he breathed a sigh of relief. Turning his head to face Alfred, he spoke in a hushed tone. “Maybe we don’t draw the kid’s blood just yet.”

“Master Nightwing, we need to find out what’s wrong with the young lad.” The old butler set the needle down on a nearby table, locking covered eyes with Dick’s own. “It could be something that needs immediate treatment.”

“Is there any way we could get that information without drawing a panicked child’s blood?” Dick hissed.

Eyes narrowing in displeasure, Alfred spoke with a sharp tone. “Master Nightwing, it would do you well to remember the manners Batman and I taught you.”

Dick sheepishly looked at the ground, mumbling out an apology. “But, A, c’mon. He clearly doesn’t like needles for some reason. Why don’t we just wake him up, or do some tests that don’t involve drawing his blood?”

Alfred twisted his lips in a way only the man himself could, eyes trained on Dick who was anxiously rubbing his hands together, waiting for an answer. When Bruce wasn't here, Alfred was in charge. (Aw, who was he kidding? Alfred was always in charge, but when Bruce isn't here the arguments are a lot easier). 

“As you wish, I will view Mister Danny's current status without the transfer of biological tissue of any kind,” Alfred agreed easily, moving past Dick to properly dispose of the needle he had opened. “But I tell you this now sir, if there is an underlying health issue then I won't be able to do anything if his condition worsens in this situation. So I suggest coming up with an idea for when the young sir awakens.”

Dick nodded while feeling like groaning in misery. He barely knew the kid–how was he supposed to act as a health surrogate for this tiny child right now? The vigilante put his hands on his hips as he watched Alfred work, removing Danny's dirty outer clothing. Alfred’s facade broke for a second as he made a face at the two filthy, thin jackets covering the boy’s still covered arm and the ripped flannel around his waist. The old butler methodically cleaned every part of Danny's arms and face that were covered in dirt, and Dick watched in awe as the most adorable freckles appeared on his round baby cheeks. He needed to squish them and coo at the little boy right that second, having to use every ounce of Bat-trained restraint to not coddle the tiny human.

“Nightwing,” Dick took in a sharp breath, instinctually standing up straight. He hadn’t been expecting Bruce to be back to the Cave so soon, normally the man would stay out as late as possible on patrol. “Report, now.” Bruce's voice garnered no argument, a tone demanding answers. Dick knew that he probably had some kind of traumatic response reasoning or whatever for needing to know literally everything for a sense of control. But Dick had a traumatic response to fight at every turn when being spoken down to.

“Not now B, if you can’t tell there’s something going right now we’re a bit busy with,” Dick grit his teeth as he responded, unable to tear his eyes away from the laceration on the back of Danny’s left arm that Alfred had just uncovered. What could have made that? A kitchen knife perhaps? Dick wanted to get a closer look, but he knew he’d just be in Alfred’s way right now. “So if you could kindly fuck off until later, that would be great.”

“Language, young sir,” Alfred admonished him absently. 

Dick felt his cheeks heat up, but didn’t move from his position in the doorway where he was watching everything that happened. He didn’t want Bruce coming close to Danny. “Sorry A, my bad.”

“Nightwing,” Bruce–no, Batman–intoned. Dick wanted to ignore the man. God, did he want to just flat out pretend he wasn’t there and focus on this tiny bundle of cuteness that filled him with a strong urge to protect said bundle from any and all harm. 

But Batman was someone that couldn’t be easily ignored.

“What part of ‘not now’ do you not understand?” The younger vigilante quipped, trying to play the part of happy-go-lucky-Dick-Grayson everyone always seemed to expect from him. It was exhausting most of the time these days, but somehow easier to just fall into his assigned role than live with the anger brewing in his chest bit by bit.

“I don't have time for your remarks, Nightwing,” Batman scolded. At this point in his life, Dick can tell Bruce's frowns apart as well as he could the grunts. This was an ‘you are lucky you're my kid, otherwise I'd sock you in the jaw’ kind of frown. He didn't earn those too often, surprisingly. “You let an underaged civilian into the Cave without consulting me first. Explain your actions, now.”

Dick’s lips curled, snarling at Batman. “What I did was bring a scared, hurt little boy to a place that I knew would give him half-decent medical attention. It’s better than dropping him off at, I don’t know, Ma Gunn’s?” With an ugly type of satisfaction, he watched as the blow hit its mark. He could read Batman’s body language well enough by now to see the half-hidden wince, the slightest uptick of his shoulders. Hopefully it was enough to make Batman be Bruce for half a minute so they could have an actual conversation, rather than a screaming match.

“You're out of line, Nightwing,” Batman frowned, the creases in his mask deepening as he stalked towards Dick. A dark feeling wormed its way through Dick's chest. It was an awful thing that made him feel like a shit son for being cruel to the man who raised him, but also felt glad he could inflict just a little suffering back at Bruce for his emotionally constipated actions over the years. Dick felt sick at the words that just came out of him. “I suggest you stop now, and let me move past you.”

Dick jutted out his chin, shifting on his feet to broaden his stance and better block off the entry to the medical bay. “Absolutely not.”

The two stared each other down for a moment. Dick didn't move from his post, crossing his arms defiantly as Bruce tried to stand up to his annoyingly taller height in an act of intimidation. Too bad for him, it stopped working after the last time he betrayed Dick's trust, right before he abandoned the mantle of Robin that he had built.

“Nightwing, that was not a request but an order. Move now.” Bruce made to shoulder his way around Dick, but the younger’s lithe form moved to block him.

“I don’t care. I’m not letting you take a kid–who just fainted–out of this cave! He needs medical attention and Alfred’s the best of the best.” Dick argued defiantly. Maybe a little childishly too, if he had to admit it. Dick knew that Danny would do well to be treated properly in a hospital, but after what he witnessed in that room with hardly the basics in medical care? He wasn't letting that kid anywhere near a hospital without his consent right now.

“Alfred, while skilled, is not comparable to a trained doctor who can treat this child and get them the help he needs.” Bruce put his hand on Dick's shoulder and he roughly shoved it off, feeling the skin burn despite layers of kevlar and spandex separating them. “You are acting irrationally right now–”

“I don’t care, Bruce!” Dick shouted, shaking with a barely-contained rage. He felt his chest burning with it, unable to hold the words in and since there were no younger siblings or small children around (and awake), so he didn't stop them. “I don’t care that Alfred’s not a trained doctor. I don’t care that you’re so against this! What I care about is the fact that this little kid trusted me enough to bring him here, to get him help, when he very clearly does not trust anybody!” Dick moved, getting up in Bruce’s face as he went on his tangent. He was so fired up, he couldn't even notice Bruce's dominos widening in shock. “You should know better than anyone what it’s like to have a kid dropped right in front of you and know that you need to help! Hell, how many orphans have come through here, again?”

Dick huffed loudly, his breaths causing a slight mist in the damp cave as he watched Bruce process his words for a moment. The man barely moved the whole time Dick was ranting and he was honestly shocked he got out what he did without Bruce shutting him up. Or Alfred complaining about how they were disturbing his patient. 

“Exactly, Dick,” Bruce agreed. But his voice was low and dangerous, the tone he saved for when he was incredibly angry. Dick only ever heard it when the man was facing Joker or The Riddler after their antics affected large groups of people and led to deaths. “I have seen multiple orphans walk through this manor and through this cave. I have watched as you were consumed by rage and tried to avenge your family with your small hands, still growing as you filled these halls with so much sorrow it couldn't fit in a tiny body.” Bruce's fists clenched at his sides. “I watched as you followed in my footsteps, becoming Robin and channeling your anger before just leaving everything behind. I couldn't stop you.”

Bruce jutted his chin out, the vein in his neck popping as he remembered Dick's younger years. “I watched as…as Jason, so filled with hatred and rage entered the manor. He hid his food and tried to protect himself even when no one was coming after him, and then he took over Robin. He was the happiest I had seen him in those days,” Bruce's voice quieted some, but the steel in his tone grew sharper. “Then I watched as he died. He died because he was Robin, because I took him in.”

Bruce pointed at Dick suddenly, and the accusatory finger felt so strong he took a step back in surprise. “Tim was not one I expected, and I tried to push him away for his own good. He'd have been better off not being Robin for his own sake. Even a life lived like his could have become better than the one he has now, risking his life on the streets when he could be at home developing film or skateboarding with friends. A normal life, without the mission,” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Dick, I know what it's like to see an orphan child and want to help them, of course I do. But sometimes, even with good intentions, there are people who want to help but in hindsight probably shouldn't. They could end up making the child's life even worse, completely without trying.”

The guilt that Dick had been feeling washed out in a seething tsunami of fury. All throughout Bruce’s speech, the acrobat felt regretful over what he said to Bruce. Maybe the man actually understood how fucked up his relationships with his kids were? He was mentally debating how to apologize to him for what was said and move forward, maybe turn this into an actual conversation for once. Yet, Bruce's words at the end gave him pause. He made some points Dick could find himself agreeing to in other circumstances, but to say that he shouldn’t be around Danny? Because he would make the kid’s life worse? That's just catastrophizing and projecting his own guilt onto Dick!

“I want you to think about how old you were when you took me in, Bruce.” Dick said, slowly and clearly as he stalked closer to his father-figure. “You were only twenty-two. Fresh out of traveling the world, leaving behind all your responsibilities to start out on your own quest to avenge your parents. To lead a one-man crusade against all the bad things this screwed up city has to offer.” The younger man glared up at Bruce, hoping that he was communicating just how royally pissed off he was. “I’m two years older than you were. I have a full-time job as well as having a normal life outside of the suit. I have decent relationships with my co-workers and I have not only successfully led teams, but I have been fighting towards The Mission for most of my life. I have friends inside and out of being a vigilante who would be more than happy to help me if I asked them to. And, unlike someone I know, I would actually ask.”

Dick shook his head bitterly. He felt the insane urge to laugh right now, but none of this was funny. He knew that.

“I know I can take Danny under my wing and raise him well. I have a great example of what not to do, after all. But, what happened to the one kid you ever bothered to actually adopt, Bruce? Where is he now? Would you say that being under your care made his life even worse?” They both knew he was talking about himself, but Dick wanted Bruce to say the words he was always afraid to admit out loud about their relationship.

Dick felt a sick sort of satisfaction still though at seeing Bruce's shoulders shake minutely. There was not a lot that could rattle the man, but bringing up the mistakes he made raising his kids would always do it--you just had to know what signs to look for. If Jason had been here for this, or even Tim, they probably would have tried to stop their fight before it got to this point. His brothers never enjoyed being around him and Bruce at times like these, but it still made him feel awful in a way to speak to Bruce like this. But he was so upset at the situation he couldn't bring himself to care.

He barely managed to dodge the swing Bruce tossed his way, ducking down to his haunches as the man pushed his weight forwards. Sliding around his legs, Dick hooked himself around Bruce's ankle to bring the bigger vigilante down, but Bruce only stumbled a bit. Dick tumbled a few feet away and popped back up, lowering himself into a half-crouched stance in case Bruce came towards him again. But he didn't, Bruce just stood in the entry of the doorway, huffing like an angry bull as he whipped his cowl off and turned burning blue eyes onto Dick.

He peeked around the man's wide shoulders at Alfred, who stood in the background like a sentinel over Danny's quiet form resting on the bed. Somehow the kid was still asleep through all of the noise. If he weren't facing Bruce, Dick would laugh at the sight of the kid’s slack jaw and an ever growing puddle of drool under his chin.

“You have no right to talk about situations you don't understand, Dick,” Bruce ground out, his voice gravelly with the emotions he never let out. “The choices I made were–”

“Really shitty?” Dick quipped as he rose from his crouch. “Because, yes. They were, I agree.”

“They were the best choices I could make at the time,” Bruce corrected, lines deepening on his face and aging the man even more. “I was young and I had a child dropped into my lap–”

“More like yoinked from the cops, but go on.” Dick shrugged at the man, body language loose but his nerves were shot now that he was further from Danny. “Keep digging that hole B, maybe soon it'll be big enough to fit you.”

“Nightwing, stop this now–” Bruce started to lecture. But the step backwards he made caused Dick to snap. He was too close to Danny and Dick was too far. He had to protect!

“No! This isn't Batman and Nightwing time B,” Dick began marching forward, fists trembling in front of him with each step. “This is Dick and Bruce, man and ward time. You and I are talking, it is not you giving me orders!”

Stopping in front of his father-figure, Dick looked him dead in the eyes. Blue met blue. Frown met frown. He stood up to Batman who was keeping him from the child his heart had already claimed.

“So how about we talk, old man?”

[mandiemegatron]

heart pirate reader x killer / implied unrequited reader x law ; no use of y/n. gender neutral reader, they/them pronouns.

rated ; available for all ages. MDNI with anything labeled 18+. angst with somewhat of a happy ending. ♡

based on state lines by novo amour ; thank you to my lovely cin [ @sheerxfiction ] for your help and inspo, as always.

You weren't supposed to be gone this long.

Helping the Kid Pirates learn some form of medical knowledge had been your idea - one that Law hadn't wanted to agree with - but that determined look in your eyes refused to waver, to the point Law had no choice but to sigh an unwilling agreement.

Two weeks, you'd promised.

Two weeks, and you'd call from the island that Kid and Law agreed that the red-haired Captain would drop you on.

That call never came.

Law stood on that shore, exhausted eyes wandering the empty, mute vastness of the Seas, nearly desperate for any crumb that you'd come back to the ship.

That you'd come back to him.

Here, I'll forgive my thoughts now

Steer it, 'cause I forget the dots now

He paces for a few moments, eyes flicking from his feet back to the barely crashing waves, ignoring the way his fingers twitch in irritation in his pockets.

“Captain?”

Law stops to look over his shoulder at Bepo only for a moment before he returns to his pacing, eyes returning out to the seas.

“What.”

There's an audible gulp from the mink before he stutters, “W-we gotta get going soon, or the Logpose will take another week to reset...”

Was it all any more faded after all?

I don't know

I don't know

I don't know…

Law sighs through his nose, glaring out at the continued expanse before he finally bites out,

“Give me a few more minutes. I know they'll come.”

There's only silence from his first mate, which he expects. He knows what Bepo is thinking, and Law mentally begs him not to say it out loud.

Unfortunately, lady luck was not on Law's side.

“Captain… I don't think they're coming…”

Are you sure, did you call?

Did we ever really talk?

I don't know,

I don't know,

I don't know,

I don't know,

I don't…

Law angrily whips around to see Bepo still holding his den den mushi, the spotted snail comfortable in massive white paws, asleep and silent.

Just as it had been for the last three weeks.

Furious tears pricked at the corners of Law's eyes, which he immediately hid under the brim of his spotted hat. Law wordlessly holds out his hand for his snail. He stalls for a moment before finally dialing your personal den den, in hopes you'd finally answer this time.

Dear, I wouldn't bet your heart down

Clear, but I couldn't get my head around

A few islands away, your den den rings a specific tone, alerting you of who exactly was calling. Your heart sinks as you simply stare at it, biting back tears of your own as a heavy hand lands on your shoulder.

“Love…”

You slowly turn from your snail to your masked, blonde lover, unable to wipe the sudden waterworks as they slip from your eyes.

“You should answer it.”

You shake your head, instead curling into Killer's massive arms, which wrap around you immediately. “He wouldn't understand,” you drone sadly, clinging to Killers shirt as if he'd disappear if you didn't hold tight enough.

“You don't know that,” Killer gently starts, his warm hands roaming your back in a soothing manner.

“I do,” you croak, sniffling as you pull your face away just enough to look up at him. “He would make me leave, and I'd never see you again.”

Killer's grip tightened around you at your words, sudden dread filling his entire body at the thought of never holding you like this again. He stares at your den den as it keeps ringing, knowing it would ring for a good handful of minutes.

Just like it always did.

“I'm a traitor, and traitors get the death penalty…”

Killer's head snapped down at those words, one of his hands cupping the side of your face as he swears heavily, “You will not perish while I protect you, that I promise.”

Was it all any more faded after all?

I don't know

I don't know

I don't know…

“It's what I deserve. It wasn't supposed to be like this, I was just supposed to teach-”

In a flash, Killer lifts his mask up enough to capture your lips in his, cutting off your depressed and terrified rambling. Your body physically deflates, the worries slowly evaporating from under your skin as Killer practically kisses it all away.

He tugs his mask down when he pulls away, but you can feel his gaze from behind the painted ceramic as he insists,

“It doesn't matter what was supposed to happen. What did happen was we found each other, and if that's not enough reason to stay, then you should go back to them… to him.”

Your eyes fill with tears again as you quietly beg Killer, “Please don't say it like that…”

Killer takes your face in both hands, his thumbs brushing over your tear stained cheeks as he begs back,

“Then tell him this is what you want. If us being together is enough… then answer the call and tell him.”

You openly sob at those words, clinging to Killer once more as he pulls you into his embrace, glad his mask hid his own teary eyes as he whispers again,

“Answer the call.”

Are you sure, did you call?

Did we ever really talk?

I don't know

I don't know

I don't know

The ringing never ceases. You know it won't, not until your den den either falls asleep, or until the caller gives up.

You move away from Killer with a heavy sniffle, wiping at your face before finally reaching for your snail, picking up the receiver with a deep breath.

There's stunned silence from the other end, until you finally hear your name breathed through.

“... please tell me I'm not dreaming.”

You can't fight the slight chuckle, wiping at your eyes with your other hand as you softly affirm,

“You're not dreaming.”

There's more silence for a moment, and then,

“Where are you.”

Not a question, a demand.

Your eyes ache with tears, looking to Killer who smooths a hand over your back.

“... I'm still on the Victoria Punk.”

“Why?”

You could feel the fury rising off your now ex-captain, unable to get a word in as he continues,

“I am here, waiting at the designated island, as I have been, for a week! A whole goddamn week, and you're not here?!”

You covered your face with your hand, praying for peace into it as you finally get out,

“I'm sorry!”

“You're sorry?! You get your ass to the next island to the north. You are MY crewman, not Eustass-ya's! I shouldn't have listened to you-”

“They're not coming back.”

Law freezes at the new voice, recognizing it but unable to properly place it until it speaks again.

“They're staying here.”

There's a dark energy that emanates through your den den, sending a shiver up your spine as Law demands,

“And why would they do that?”

Killer looks to you, nodding slightly as he prompts you to be honest to your ex-Captain. You mimic him in response and finally blurt out,

“I… I'm staying because I fell in love.”

Law physically stumbled a step back, feeling like his heart was shattering in his chest.

“Y… you…”

You watched your snails expression turn empty, knowing you'd just broken your Captain from the inside out. You tried to explain honestly, biting back anxious tears with whimpered words.

“I didn't expect it to happen, it just… did. I never thought someone would love me like this, that I would feel safe and loved all in one-”

“Then you are a traitor.”

I've been awake in every state line

Dying to make it last us a lifetime

Trying to shake that it's all on an incline…

You'd never heard Law hiss like this, like the words he spoke were pure poison on his tongue, tainting his mouth in hatred.

“Captain,” you beg in a short whisper, unable to wrap your head around the fact that what you knew would happen, was finally happening.

“It wasn't supposed to be like this.”

Killer's hand on your waist tightened a little, and you knew then you'd accidentally said those words out loud.

“You are a traitor to the Heart Pirates, and our enemy. Should we cross paths again, I will hunt you down until there is nothing left of you.”

Your heart sank as the line disconnected, your snail going limp for a moment before yawning and finally falling asleep.

Your shaky hand returns the receiver to its back before you turn in Killer's grasp, feeling the guilt that radiated off him like a sticky, wet blanket.

“I'm so sorry,” he breathes, holding you against him tight enough it barely kept you from falling apart.

You feel nothing but a knowing shock, your brain unable to comprehend the fact you could truly never go home, never return to the family you had, and it was all your fault.

“We'll have to talk with Kid about this. I know he'll be happy you're staying but-”

“I know.”

Killer sighs softly at your acknowledgment, knowing exactly what he was thinking. Even if it was for love, you left one crew - what was to say you wouldn't do it again?

“I'm going to have to work hard to gain his respect like that.” You murmur quietly, still shaken to the core over the whole conversation.

Killer hums in slight disagreement. “Not that hard. You showed loyalty to Kid, he holds that in a higher regard than you'd think. As long as that loyalty stays to him, you'll always have a home with us.”

Killer lifts your chin, taking in your half-dead expression as he murmurs honestly, “I love you, and I'm proud of you. That wasn't easy, what you just did, but now we can spend our time focusing on us, instead of worrying when you'll have to leave.”

You give him a ghost of a smile before he presses his mask to your lips in a faux kiss.

“Now you can put your things in my room, instead of staying in that closet. Doesn't that sound nice, love?”

You think you give him another answer, the overwhelming ringing in your ears overtaking your consciousness to the point that the rest of the day passes in a blur.

You can't remember the party being thrown in your honour - nor can you remember laying next to Killer as he slides next to you in bed, pulling you to him as his lips press over your skin, forever marking you as his with painted lips.

This was what you wanted… wasn't it?

Find me a way

I'll be yours in a landslide.

♡ DO NOT PLAGIARIZE, STEAL, REPOST OR RUN MY WORKS THROUGH AI.

♡ ALL FANWORKS/FANFICS WRITTEN BY THIS BLOG ARE OWNED BY MANDIEMEGATRON.

[kihteyu]

If Hunter was pulled out of the ground as a toddler and Golden Guard by the time he was 16, then imagine how young he was when he was first forced into scout training. What age did Hunter’s childhood end? How old was he when he scaled that mountain? Were any of the other scouts hesitant to spar with him when he was half their height? I imagine child soldiers aren’t really as stigmatized on the Boiling Isles but did that still apply when it was a ten year old in a mask that kept slipping off his head because it was still a little too big? A cape he kept tripping over because it was still a little too long? Did anyone see that little, magicless boy trying to fight alongside adults and think anything was wrong with it but was forced to keep their mouth shut because it was the Emperor’s will? Did anyone care? Did anyone think to ask their god why he needed children to fight his battles?

[aleiiii]

Hello again back with another angsty thought roaming about. Don't know if it's been brought up yet but if Na is mortal or not but if she is a mortal , how does Wukong (and Mac) cope with the thoughts of him outliving her ( like he did with all of his old friends)?

Or does he try to figure a way to extend her life?

FROSTED 🫵🏼

These angst asks are so yummy, thank you 🤭

Holy moly,,,,, yknow I can see Wukong being in huge denial, especially after going through losing his previous companions, probably encountering other mortals come and go. He’s really reminded about Nà’s mortality after the Lady Bone Demon encounter, she’s tired and worn out from the venture. Probably a little injured (from Wukong no less uh oh). He fights the internal battle of either going behind her back and giving her an elixir or a peach from the gardens, or just straight up asking her,,,, BUT that runs the risk of her rejecting Wukong’s wish to make her immortal, and that’s really not an option in Wukong’s eyes.

Macaque tries to be a point of reason. Maybe she does want to live a normal human lifespan, and that would be her choice…. But he’s also grown extremely attached to her. He wouldn’t want to lose something so dear to him again. As much as he tries to allow Nà to have her own will, Wukong can be a bit of a barrier.