#ok. I hope you enjoyed <3

[kentopedia]

ᡣ𐭩 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈 . . . the french are glad to die for love

after a night performing, you meet with the duke, but he's not anything like you'd been expecting.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬. ft. sanji ! f!reader, moulin rouge au, alcohol, smoking, romance, prostitution, burlesque/cabaret dancers, humor, very very brief mention of suicidal ideation, suggestive content. 8.7k words.

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, i'm very nervous to post this so pls be kind to me ‪‪❤︎‬ if you aren't familiar with moulin rouge, the writing's a bit silly / eccentric at times, which is a little outside my comfort zone. so if you hate it... say nothing lol ><

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 .˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈 .˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊

Paris was the city of lovers, as they said. Romantic and doused in shades of red, painted with hearts for stars and a dazzling galaxy complete of past romances. 

Red, yes, was the color of Paris. But it came from not from dalliances, but from blood and tears, the scarlet hues mixed in shades of pain and misfortune. Nothing you had expected when you’d first stepped foot in the city with a half-developed mind, just off the boat from your own country. You’d had a suitcase filled with your finest clothes, which truly weren’t much, and a few necessities. But you’d been leaving from nothing, and you’d go on to have nothing, finding yourself in yet another desperate situation. 

In the wake of revolutions, Paris was supposed to be a place of rebirth, to start fresh and finally live out your dream as an actress. But things never turned out the way they were planned — such had been the case since the beginning of time. 

Instead of finding your way into the Palais Garnier, on the stage in beautiful velvet gowns, laced with glittering diamonds and rubies, you found yourself on the streets, singing for anyone who would listen. Then, you were acquired by a man who promised you a life of luxury and an opportunity to be a star. 

And who were you to refuse such an offer? 

Thus concluding the simple, albeit melancholy tale of how you found yourself at the Moulin Rouge, part-time singer, part-time dancer, and full-time actor. A cliché story of ambition and lost dreams, of aspirations that had never come to fruition.

Still, you had your moments of stepping into the role of the glittering ruby, the dazzling diamond. There were even times when you felt that, maybe, you were shaping up to be the prima donna you’d dreamed of becoming. That you had already taken that role on and made it your own, not in a golden opera house, but on a stage of darker colors, crafted for those that crept in the shadows, rather than the heavens. 

But what being an actor at the Moulin Rouge meant was forgetting what it was to be yourself. Each evening, you put on a mask of beauty that you didn’t feel to your core, shrouded in cheap jewels that had become meaningless in the face of giving up your real dream. No matter how many times you told yourself this was right, a stepping stone to the path of greatness, it still felt like a lie.

But the years carried on, and the pain subsided. You got used to the sharpened eyes of hungry men, of people that would never want you for any longer than an evening. They were charming, sure, and they paid a pretty penny for a night — if you were willing to give it to them. 

It was enough. It had to be. 

Things weren’t so bad, you supposed. You’d left your home like you’d always planned to, even while this shapeless existence was hardly any better.

Still, returning to your house of cards, of rags and dirtied floors, seemed like an even bigger failure. Perhaps not to your family, who would’ve deemed your life as a courtesan the greatest shame of them all. To you, though, the greatest shame would have been to admit that you were wrong. 

Your fifth year of working at the Moulin Rouge set into motion the beginning of the end. There was nothing different about the evening that tipped the first domino… Not that you could recall, at least. 

As always, an array of stars glittered over Montmartre, a beautiful Parisian night, lit up with red. From the streets, the Moulin Rouge glowed like a beacon, combating even the loveliest parts of the French skyline, outlandishly bright, but mystical all the same. It wasn’t often that you saw the outside of the cabaret, not the way your patrons did. Sometimes, you wondered what it was like for them, to walk in for the first time and see the beautiful stars, dancing just for them on the candlelit stage. 

The very stage you were soon to find yourself on.

A necklace of rubies — undoubtably fake — hung heavy on your chest, weighing you down just like a cough in your lungs did. From beyond your four walls, you could hear the crowd that had formed in the intimate hall, already wet with anticipation of the dancers. And while some, perhaps, were doubtful, here for the first time, you knew they would leave with an itch to return, if only to see the star of the Moulin Rouge.

You.

Staring into the mirror, you listened to the heels of your friends click across the stage, getting into position for their first number. It was comforting, almost, how the simple sound was there for your every night, alerting you of just how much time you had before your final act. 

You smeared rouge across your cheeks, sporting a grim smile, and made sure the color was bright enough to combat the lights that would illuminate you. 

Then, you inhaled, and stood from your chair, to get dressed before your number began. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t get far, already crowded by the chest of your keeper, the flashy owner of the Moulin Rouge. Buggy. 

He was dressed as he always was — to the nines, and impeccably lively. Much livelier than you would ever be outside of the glittering nightclub. Sometimes, you wondered just how much of his persona was an act, and how much of it was every bit the extravagance he’d been born with.

“There’s my star,” Buggy said, dragging a finger across your cheek, eyes lit up by his pale makeup. “I’ve been looking for you.” Your name left his lips cheerfully, and you smiled, thinly plastering on enthusiasm. 

“Well,” you answered, batting your eyelashes heavily. “Here I am. Where I’ve been for the past five years, every night, at this very time.”

He threw an arm over your shoulder as he always did, like the two of you were old friends, and the air of professionalism you tried to keep between you was needless. “Yes, yes,” he responded, waving off the slight bit of sarcasm. “Listen. I have a manner of business to discuss.” 

Your smile quickly fell. You knew what that meant. “Buggy,” you said, unreeling yourself from his embrace, his hot palm dropping from your shoulders. “It’s hardly been a day since the last one. You promised me I wouldn’t have to take on any more.” 

Not that you’d believed him when he’d said that, but… There were only so many men you were willing to seduce, especially when the other dancers would have gladly accepted the work. You weren’t the only courtesan at the club, and just because you were the star, didn't mean you would put the others out of a job. 

“I did, I did, and I’ll keep that promise… After this last time.” Buggy’s words were on the edge of charisma, but they weren’t able to reach that delivery. Full of a dramatic flair, sure, but nothing further. His smile was thin, desperate, and though you wanted to ask his true intentions about this particular meeting, you wouldn’t. You already knew the answer.

You held his gaze sharply, eyes narrowing before you relented, a heavy sigh leaving your lungs. 

There had been talk about the finances, only recently, and just through the grapevine. Claims that the Moulin Rouge was going bankrupt, and there was only one person with enough beauty and charm to save it.

A heavy burden to bear, indeed.

And while you were hopeful, devastatingly so, that the claims weren’t true, you weren’t blind to the dwindling waitstaff, the decreasingly lavish decorations. One of your dancers had even left in the last week, a young girl who didn’t bring much to the table, but didn’t deserve to be tossed back onto the streets either. 

You’d be a fool not to notice that there was trouble… Trouble Buggy had convinced you not to worry about, but that concerned you all the same. 

With a frown, you bowed your gaze, then perked back up with a smile. As if holding a tiara high on your head, you straightened, erasing the depressing dimness from your eyes, hoping you shone as brightly as he wanted you to. “Alright,” you hummed, softening your voice, “What do I need to do?” 

Buggy grinned, face revealing perfect showmanship, and pinched your cheek. “There’s my star.” 

The man you were to seduce on the stage tonight was a duke. 

He wasn’t from Paris, wasn’t from France at all, but instead, from some intriguing land further East, hailing a vast amount of wealth and a large wallet that could easily bankroll the entire nightclub. Salaries, performances, food and so on. That alone told you all you needed to know. 

Just one night. That would be enough to convince him that you were a dazzling diamond, and you deserved a place on the stage. A different stage. It would be enough to get him to put his money on the table, entranced enough by the energy of the evening to invest in the Moulin Rouge. Enough to intrigue him, even if he was a difficult man to please. 

One night might not turn out be just one, you knew that. But you’d do anything, anything it took to achieve you dreams. Not just for yourself, not for Buggy… but for all of the others that you called your friends. You deserved an opportunity to be a real actress, and they deserved a place to live, a place to work. 

Besides, you were getting older, already closer to thirty than your early teenage years, and those of the underworld did not want an aged woman, so much as they sought the delicate features of a barely turned adult. It was a disgusting, filthy world you lived in, but it kept you alive, and sometimes, that was all you could ask for. 

“Remember,” Buggy’s words echoed in your ears, sharp and desperate to be heard, even over the drowning noises of the orchestra. “He’ll be in the back booth. There’s a group of men with him, they’ll all have drinks. Just catch his eye, sometime during the dance. But don’t worry too much about that, otherwise you’ll lose your focus.” 

What you got from that was: You should try extra hard to catch the eye of an impressive man, but you should not seem like you were trying at all. 

A somewhat daunting task, but it would be simple enough. There hadn't been a man yet at the Moulin Rouge who hadn’t stumbled over himself when you gave him your brilliant smile.

You breathed, a deep inhale that cleared out the anxiety lingering in your chest. Then, you blew it out, and the curtain rose, blinding you with overwhelming yellows and reds from the lights, ones that ignited the jewels on your neck, outlining your chest, drawing everyone’s attention to you.

It was hard to see anything at all, but you could feel all their eyes on you — a hundred or so pairs that scoured you like a piece of meat.

And when you got to the floor, close enough that you could feel the hot breaths of your favorite clients, they threw bills at you until you could no longer hold them in the tight lines of your bodice. 

You smiled at every individual like you’d never smile at anyone again, patted their cheeks until they passed out with red, swooning faces. Then you left them, still reeling from your touch, eyes glued to you with the focus of a tortured scholar.

Performing had always been a rush to you, left you lively and with an energy that you’d never found in anything else. But sometimes, performing like this, exploiting no one but yourself and your magnetic charm, left you empty at the end of the day. You left the stage cold, drained of every ounce of warmth that had been dragged into you from the spotlight. 

It was invigorating to be wanted, but it could never compete with the crushing loneliness that came with being used.

And that warmth you got from the stage, the rush of devotion and adrenaline that came with incessant adoration? Well, you’d never felt anything like that, never been able to replicate it either, until a set of eyes landed on you from a distant booth, where the Duke was said to be sitting. 

You felt the heat before you saw him, the candy-red color of desire bleeding into you. It dragged across your back, digging into your shoulder-blades like a needle, piercing, but only lightly. There was something soft around the harsh edges of want, and when you turned to meet that stark desire, you almost faltered in surprise. 

He wasn’t what you’d been expecting.

Just as Buggy had said, the corner-most booth held a man, surrounded by many others. The table was littered with glasses — both empty and full of alcohol, and a cloud of smoke hovered around them. All of the men leaned over the table, eyeing you with awe-struck eyes, as you sparingly gave them your sweetest smile. 

But it was the innermost man that you honed in on, one being jostled around by the wealthy others in his booth. Blonde, blue eyes alight with a conflicted sort of desire, wearing a suit tailored to fit him perfectly. 

The Duke. 

Allegedly. 

From what you’d been told, there were enough clues to convince you that this dazzled man was the one you were looking for. Surrounding him were older patrons, ones that were familiar with Buggy, and nearly all of the dancers. Rich men that would have gladly accompanied a foreign noble, shown him the beauty of Montmartre before the sun rose and they were back to respectable conversation. 

Yet, he seemed… 

Well, he didn’t seem very lordly. 

That, though, was not a question you wanted to linger on for too long. Your mind would spin into uncertainties, and you would fuck this up before you could fuck him. 

Instead, you sharpened your smile, lowered your eyes seductively, and continued your performance, painting more attention onto that side of the room. 

Which raised another red flag that you were all too happy to ignore. Far opposite of what Buggy had sad, the duke did not seem like a difficult man to please. Rather, all you could think was that he would be an easy catch, with the way his cigarette dangled from his lips, parted in awe. His irises might as well have shaped into hearts as he watched you, tracing your every movement without so much as blinking. 

You brightened. For some reason, his adoration gave you much greater satisfaction than you would have liked to admit. 

Riding on the elation that your prey, the source of your future, was in the palm of your hand, you wrapped up the rest of your performance perfectly, tying it up with a beautiful scarlet ribbon. Buggy was standing on the edge of the stage as you made your way down, bowing dramatically, knowing that you had succeeded in every goal he’d set for you. 

“Do you think I lured him in?” you asked softly, accepting the robe given to you by one of the stage-hands, a man just on the cusp of his twenties. 

Buggy smiled, his red-painted lips spreading across crooked teeth. “I don’t call you the diamond for nothing, do I, my dear?” he said, pinching your cheek. 

The rouge came off between his fingers, and your eyebrows crinkled, before releasing, as you remembered all the ways you could keep yourself from looking older. You swatted your friend-not-friend’s hand away before wrapping yourself tighter in the robe, feeling so much smaller and younger than you truly were. 

Despite all the men you’d taken to bed, all the nights you’d shared in throes of passion (their’s, of course, never your own), you still felt the scared, hardly-adult you’d been when you first set foot in Paris. 

Buggy noticed the change in your demeanor, as you tried to gear yourself up for an encounter with the Duke. The charming, blonde noble seemed kind enough, softer around the edges than many of the men you’d seduced over the years. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. 

Never, though, would it be something that you wanted to do.

“What’s the matter, my gem?” Buggy asked, not quite in a way that was kind, but enough to show concern. His eyes were gentler than the rest of his appearance, and you weren’t sure you were grateful for it.

You curled away from his hands, sniffing back the onslaught of doubt and self-loathing that always came upon you when you used your body in such a way. It was something that you’d been taught to feel disgusted by, even though it kept a roof over your head, and the heads of the people that you’d come to call your family. 

“It’s nothing,” you said, because it was the truth. It was nothing new. The same blur of feelings that had haunted you since the first day you’d sold yourself to another still lingered. You’d always thought it would get easier… but it hadn’t. It still ended with you wanting to tear your skin from your body, but never following through with a slide of poison down your throat. 

Because that was the easy way, wasn’t it? A quick way to end your torment, without knowing if you’d ever see the other side. And, perhaps you weren’t as brave as you wanted to believe, but you wanted to see if there was another side. If there was a brighter end, a brighter future, where you could shine on the stage of the Palais Garnier as a real actress, and not just in the glittering scarlet lights of the Moulin Rouge. 

Buggy eyed you skeptically, any kindness in his irises now gone as his lips turned into a thin line. “It better be nothing,” he said, guiding you across the stage, before reaching a doorway that would send you up into the Elephant Room.

Which was the most private area of the Moulin Rouge, one saved for the most illicit affairs. It was your room, and only those patrons that were willing to pay the highest price were allowed entry. 

“Remember, I’ll send him up to you, and all you have to do is give him a night he won’t forget, alright?” Buggy stood in front of you, gripping your shoulders in a warning. “Now, show me that dazzling smile, diamond.”

Reluctantly, but with all the passion you had gathered in your chest, you smiled, knowing that it was real enough to set something alight in his own. The reaction — just a small quirk of his lips in return — was enough to let you know he was satisfied with the show you’d put on.

“There she is. We’ll have a new investor soon enough.” 

You were certain of that. You had to be certain of that, or your livelihood would be down the drain, and a future of shimmering lights and diamond-encrusted gowns would be out of the question. 

On the walk up the stairs, you spoke soft words in your head, hummed the same tune you did for every show. It reminded you of who you were — at least, who you were to them. The ones who would have sold an arm and leg for a chance to win your heart, even though, after all the years that passed, you didn’t think you had one to give anymore. 

The stage was all the love you had to offer. Perhaps, the only type of love you believed in, anymore. 

You made your way up the spiraling staircase to the Elephant Room, and opened the door with a sigh, letting your weight rest against the doorknob. For a moment, you deflated in the threshold like a woman in a Shakespearian tragedy, exhaling the tension that had wrought in your shoulders. 

Until you felt eyes slide across to you, unexpectedly, and you found you weren’t alone in the Elephant Room. 

Without pretense, the Duke was waiting for you, his eyes dancing along the interior, taking a moment to gaze at every corner of the room. There was interest in his irises, as he searched for other secrets of your life through your belongings

Then, the door slammed shut behind you, and the spell was broken. The Duke turned to face you, eyes widening with alarm, as your back went straight as a wire.

He wasn’t supposed to be there already.

A second slipped by, and you gawked at each other, your own mouth dry with the confusion and surprise of his ill-timed appearance. Surely Buggy hadn’t sent him to the Elephant Room already? You’d only just parted.

Well, you supposed it didn’t matter now anyway.  La vie continue.

Smoothly, you recovered, raising your shoulders to release an air of confidence, and smiled brightly. You twisted your hair across your collarbone, hoping it would highlight the smooth planes of your chest, where the ruby necklace had already been removed. “Ah, my apologies, monsieur. I wasn’t aware you were waiting for me.”

The Duke blinked as you strutted past him, taking the two quick steps to your vanity. Just enough to brush against him, feel the desire rolling off of him in waves. 

Pointedly, he tried hard not to let his eyes drift lower, tracing just along your hips before snapping back up to to the back of your head. “How would you have known?” His words came out thick, as if something was lodged deep in his chest. “I haven’t even introduced myself.”

“Oh, there’s no need,” you said over your shoulder, lowering your voice huskily. “I’ve heard so much about you. I trust your visit to the Moulin Rouge has been pleasant?” 

He met your gaze through the mirror, seemingly enraptured, and cleared his throat as he calculated a response. “Très agréable, mademoiselle.” 

You smiled, humming through an affirmative, before continuing. “Wonderful. I’ll be ready in just one moment.” Imperceptibly, you sprayed perfume, hoping it would mask the sweat that had gathered from your performance. Then, you made your way over to a cart, sifting through expensive bottles of alcohol. “Drink?” you said, speaking softly to yourself. “I have champagne or…” You shook each of the bottles, realizing they were all empty. Not a drop left. “Well. I have champagne.” 

“I’m alright, madame. Merci.”

You began to pour your own glass, which you would certainly be needing, when it dawned upon you that his accent was rather Parisian, and absolutely not as foreign as Buggy would have had you believe. Your champagne slipped, nearly spilling over the edges of the cup, before you turned to eye the blonde with what you hoped with a sultry grin. 

“Ah. Your French is very beautiful,” you said, smiling over the edge of your glass as you sipped at it, wondering if your eyes were as alluring as you believed. “You’re a quick learner.”

He stared at you, lines creasing his features as his lips parted, obvious skepticism weaved within his posture. Then, without another word, he ignited the cigarette he had slipped between his lips, the end glowing before he inhaled. A long drag was taken from it, settling in his lungs. “Je suis désolé, mademoiselle. I’m not sure how to answer that,” he said, exhale releasing a cloud of smoke into the air. 

You laughed, a high-pitched giggle that turned you back to face him, his free hand stuffed in his pocket like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. “Usually people answer compliments with another thank you, but it’s no matter.” You forced another small sound up out of you, suddenly unsure exactly what to do next. 

He was… not what you’d been expecting, and the usual turn of events wasn’t progressing as it should have been. The Duke was supposed to be an intimidating man, one who knew what he wanted and would take it without question. That's what you'd heard, anyway. You were starting to wonder if what Buggy had told you were nothing but rumors. 

Waving the comment off, you made your way back to the vanity, checking that your scarlet lipstick had not smeared. His lingering gaze still traced against every curve of your body, and you stuck your hips out further, leaning towards the mirror with a small grin. “I apologize I didn’t have time to change. I wasn’t expecting you here so soon.”

The Duke nodded, only slowly processing your words before tapping on the cigarette. “Oh, there’s… no need.” Then, he shook his head, blinking, as if cringing internally. “Unless you’re uncomfortable. In that case, I’ll um… turn around.” 

You laughed, hiccuping as the quick gulps of champagne came bubbling up inside of you. “Well, it’s no matter, really. I’m sure they’ll come off soon enough.” The comment was meant to be a simple segue into the rather normal routine of your work, low and seductive. 

Instead, his eyes went wide, cheeks flushed as he looked, quite pointedly, anywhere but you. “No,” his voice rang at a higher pitch as you stalked towards him, your glass of champagne drained and discarded. “No, I’d really rather you keep them on, actually.”

You blinked, a bit puzzled by that. But it wasn’t the strangest request you’d ever gotten, and you were determined to please him, just as Buggy had requested. “Alright. Whatever you want, amour.” 

Like a cat, you crept up to the Duke, splaying your hands across his chest. A small sound left his throat, cheeks turning a darker shade as he took a step back, grasping for words. Your hand fisted his tie, satisfied by his reaction as you followed his stumbling lead back towards the bed. 

“How would you prefer to start?” you whispered, as his knees hit the edge of the heart-shaped mattress, legs buckling until he was flat on his back, gawking up at you from the bed. “I admit you are a hard one to read. Just say the word, I can be whatever you want.”

You scrambled on top of his thighs, dress hiked up to reveal the smoothness of your own legs, which quickly caught his attention.

“I-I’m not sure that we’re on the same page here,” he said, swallowing, though watching every one of your movements with rapt attention. 

You plucked the cigarette from his lips, and took a long drag, smiling down at him. 

The smoke filled your lungs, calming your nerves marginally. They were cheap cigarettes — not those usually desired by the nobility, but who were you to judge for odd preferences? He’d found his way here to you, after all. 

“No?” you answered softly, taking one more long inhale of the cigarette before you leaned forward, placing it into the ashtray, still burning. There was a long streak of red from your lipstick, staining the thin cylinder of white. “Then what is it that you’re here for?”  

He exhaled, fingers reaching up along your thighs, the touch so featherlight that you almost weren’t sure it was even there. For a moment, he seemed to have forgotten the question entirely, jaw slackened as he stared at you above him, before he swallowed, and sat up on his forearms. 

The movement brought your faces even closer together, his nose just centimeters from brushing your own. It was then you realized just how blue his eyes were, the color illuminated by the dim candlelight, deep hues of turquoise and navy swirling together to create a stormy sea. His thick, blonde eyelashes fluttered closed as he blinked at you, and the movement alone brought you out of your stupor, his voice raspy upon each syllable.  

“I’m here for the play…?” 

You drew back, needing a moment to breathe as you squinted your eyes to study him. It was rare for you to get a client like him, wealthy, but so uncertain, a charm about him that you couldn’t quite pin. They were never as handsome either, most far older than you, willing to throw cash at a younger, beautiful woman. 

Questions raised at the back of your mind, desperate to be asked, but you ignored them, beaming as you angled your head. “Ah. Of course. The play.” Your voice was saccharine, octaves higher than your usual volume. “What is my role, then?” you asked, tugging off his tie as you leaned into him, your lips just barely brushing his own. His breath was hot against your mouth, a hint of cheap alcohol still lingering on his breath. “I’m far too used to being the seductress, but I can be the damsel in distress, if you’d prefer that.” 

“Your role…” It was said more to himself than anything, not stopping you as your fingers began to unbutton his starched white shirt. You tilted your head forward, noses brushing together as you rested your forehead against his. 

The air grew warm between you, and for a moment, a beautiful, fleeting second, you lost yourself. Your grip on his top grew slack, fingertips caressing the warm expanse of his chest. He breathed into your mouth, and your eyes fell shut, letting him connect his lips to your own, the moment exploding in a rush of beautiful, ruby fireworks. 

And you were keen, then, to let him do whatever he would have wanted, his touch so featherlight and gentle, you wondered if you could have fallen in love with him. How quickly your heart, coated in steel and another layer of iron, betrayed you, dropping from your own chest right into the palms of the man that you needed as a savior.

But the moment did not last so long, and your vulnerability evaporated as quickly as the layer of dew beyond la Seine. As if coming back to himself, he choked, pulled away from your lips and pushed you back by the shoulders, staring at you with wide eyes and warm, tinted cheeks. 

You paused, watching as he rushed to his feet like he couldn’t get up fast enough. How easily the mood had soured, even as he muttered one apology after another, unable to meet your gaze. 

The Duke’s hands were shaky as he held the cigarette to his mouth, eyes fixated on the ceiling. He had plucked the same one back up from the ashtray, the streak of your bold, crimson lipstick imprinted on the end of it.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, hoping the worry wasn’t obvious in your words. If there was a problem, you were desperate to fix it. You couldn’t afford to ruin this, not when so many things were at stake.

He hesitated, another cloud of smoke leaving his mouth as he waved his hand around, ash falling from the cigarette. “I’m sorry — I’m sorry. I can’t focus when you’re,” he swallowed, cheeks burning, despite the hardness very obvious in his pants, “looking at me like that.” 

“Focus?” you said in gentle confusion, eyebrows pinched tighter, as the beginnings of a dreadful realization dawned upon on you. 

Feeling discarded on the bed, you sat and watched as he pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket, straightening like it was an important doctrine, before clearing his throat, and reciting a beautifully composed poem. 

The words were horrifically romantic, each line strung into another as if they had been pieced together by his very own heartstrings. And though you had not processed a single word, it had still struck a cord down deep in your weathered heart, and you continued to stare, sick with your own shame. 

It was beautiful — hauntingly so — a poem of love that could rival even the greatest of French writers. But, all you could think about was the pounding in the back of your mind, the panic steadily rising up within you.  

“You’re here for a play. An actual play,” you said stupidly, gaping back at him, your entire body going rigid with embarrassment. “You’re serious.” No longer was your tone beautifully high-pitched, innocent despite your sensuality. It had lowered in horror, your eyes going wide as you realized that all of this was a terrible, terrible misunderstanding.

Which seemed a lackluster reaction to whatever he was looking for, and he frowned, tilted his head back before heavily inhaling another puff of smoke. “Well, I suppose I would prefer that sort of reaction to hearing that my writing is awful. The play wasn’t my idea, just for the record.” 

“Writer?” you screeched, scrambling to your feet. “You’re not a Duke? Not the Duke?” 

His eyebrows lifted, searching your face for any hint of a joke, and when he found none, he laughed, face splitting beautifully with a smile. He gestured to himself like he was amazed you would even think so, his suit hardly of the latest fashions, the cufflinks a dulling silver. 

Which, in hindsight, was truly a marvelous mistake. 

“No, I am not a duke.” His forehead wrinkled, and he, finally, stamped the cigarette out on the ashtray, subtly putting the stub back into his pocket. “Is that why you thought I couldn’t speak French? Je viens de Paris. I thought that was obvious.” Once more, he laughed, smiling in a manner that was far too out of place for the situation. Then, just as dramatically, his face fell, eyes going wide with concern. “Hold on. Did you not know that I would be here?” 

“No!” you exclaimed, putting your finger to his chest as you shot forward, glaring with the heat of a thousand suns. Your features morphed into something horrible, though you doubted it was as intimidating as you hoped. “No, I have been waiting on a Duke, not some amateur, impoverished writer from this dreadful city I regret ever stepping foot in. And if you tell me that you’re another one of Luffy’s tragic bohemian protégés—”

He smiled sheepishly, tilting his head before you could even finish your sentence. “Well. First of all, I wouldn’t say I’m an amateur.”

Your hands flew to your mouth, a sound leaving your throat in dismay as another voice — the exact voice you were hoping not to hear — called out from the window. 

“Sanji!” Luffy said, a headful of black hair falling over the side, grinning at both of you. “How’s it going? Have you convinced her yet?” 

“No!” you shouted, already rushing towards the window, shooing Luffy away. Over and over you repeated the word, Luffy merely swinging back and forth from whatever rope he’d tied himself to, more amused than anything “Get out of here, Luffy! I should’ve known it was you that put him up to this.” 

For years, Luffy had been trying to recruit you, hoping you'd be an actress in one of his performances, and that the Moulin Rouge would be the place that funded it.

With his endless confidence, Luffy was certain that one day, he would create the best production in the history of Paris. But you were certainly skeptical of his ideas ever taking off, Buggy even more-so, and he refused to put even a single franc towards funding any of Luffy's productions.

Despite the rejection, you continued to get pestered, Luffy somehow convinced that he could help you become an established actress quicker than your current occupation could.

Luffy laughed, still with the audacity to ask if you liked Sanji’s writing, and you pushed his head back out the window, muttering profanities to yourself. 

“Who’s with you? Usopp? Zoro? I’m going to kill all three of you!” 

You yelled that last bit louder, just to be sure the two men you knew were up on the roof could hear you as well. And, just as expected, a muttered string of words escaped Zoro, and a much louder, panicked sound came from Usopp. 

They peeked their heads into the window with Luffy. 

“I tried to stop him,” Usopp said, wailing as Zoro hushed him, his dark eyes clouded with regret. “I knew it was a horrible plan, I’m so sorry.” 

Your lips drew into a thin line, unconvinced, despite all the theatrics. “I want you all out! Get back up there before—” 

Footsteps started up the stairs, and your eyes went wide, panicked as the voices of Buggy and the Duke, the real duke, started up the stairs. 

“Leave!” you hissed, shoving Luffy and Usopp back out the window, before turning to face Sanji, who was rather uselessly standing in the middle of the floor. Groaning, you gripped him by the arm, pulling him across the room as you scanned for a good hiding spot. “Hide. I need you to hide. He can’t see you.”  

“What’s going on?” Sanji asked. “Luffy told me—”

You released a sharp laugh, rolling your eyes. “Oh, I’m certain Luffy told you a lot of things,” you huffed, letting your hand slip down into his own as you dragged him into a corner of the room. “Unfortunately, Luffy’s plans are sometimes too grand, and he needs someone to bring him down to Earth. Which you, clearly, did not do and now—”

Your name was called out from behind the door, and you cursed, pushing Sanji into the corner of the room, near the vanity. “Stay there. Just… hide under something!” 

“Where?” 

But the door was already opening, and you scrambled into a chair, running your fingers across your hair to make sure you seemed somewhat presentable. You brought your legs up under you, lowering your gaze to bat your eyelashes as the Duke and Buggy entered the room, both staring at you with intrigue. 

“Here she is,” Buggy said, gesturing towards you with a curious look in his eye, a dark smile forming on his painted face. There was a warning there, one that you were not foolish enough to ignore. “My beautiful diamond. Hopefully just as lovely as she was up on the stage tonight.” 

The Duke’s regard for you was hardly passionate, though you could see a sliver of desire under all the layers of intimidation. He was a tall man, dark hair falling to his shoulders in thick strands. A long scar ran across his cheekbones, over the bridge of his nose, and he looked down at you, studying every piece of you like you were nothing more than a decoration to admire. 

You waited for him to say something, but it was clear he was waiting for the same, and you stood, perhaps too rapidly, and made your way over to him. 

“Monsieur, what a pleasure it is to meet you,” you smiled, if only to ease the anxiety strung through your body. Dipping your head, you looked back up at him with siren eyes, “Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to visit.”

The Duke paused for another moment, studying you before taking your hand, and kissing it softly. It was a soothing gesture, despite the intensity of his eyes. Tension seeped gradually from your shoulders. 

“The pleasure is mine, my dear,” he said, his voice deep, raspy. “And there’s no need for such pleasantries when we’ll be acquainted soon enough.” His thumb ran across your cheek, before his hand fell back to his side. “I’d prefer Crocodile.”

Buggy, just feet behind the Duke, began to back away, exhaling in relief. “Well, I will leave you to it, then. And—”

That was all he could get out, as the scene shattered. 

Before Buggy could make his escape, a sound came from the window, a yelp, then an echoing shout, as Luffy, Usopp and Zoro fell down from the window, swinging into the room from the dangling rope. They landed in a somersaulting heap, just inches from where Sanji had been hiding, and your jaw slackened, before your entire body stiffened once more. 

Not a word rang through the room as you stared at the three of them, Crocodile sliding his gaze over to you for an explanation. The silence was tangible, heavy with uncertainty. 

A nervous laugh left Buggy, but it was quickly cut off as Usopp pulled both Zoro and Luffy up by their coats, and exclaimed, “Are you ready for rehearsal?” 

“Rehearsal…” you muttered, and at the same time, Crocodile posed the words as a question, his eyes narrowed, unamused.

“I wasn’t aware that there were other things going on this evening,” he said.

“Ah,” you continued, keeping yourself composed as you moved to stand in front of him. “Non, there’s nothing going on we just…” Internally you cursed, over and over, glancing at Buggy, who was near to shouting at Luffy, the two of them locked in a stand-off. There would be no help from any of them it seemed, as they waited for your reaction.

You placed a gentle hand on the shoulder of Crocodile, softening your expression into one of expectation. “Well, I know this isn’t what you had in mind, monsieur, but we thought now would be a good time to introduce you to our new production… Right, Buggy? While we’re all here together, of course. A once in a while opportunity.” 

You smiled, eyes narrowing exaggeratedly at Buggy, before the obvious question became clear to him. 

“Oh,” he nodded slowly, before bursting into the same smile he always used for your shows. “Right. Of course. Our new show—”

“Which, we have written specifically for you, Sir, if you would be so keen on investing.” You took Crocodile’s arm gently, leading him past the chair where Sanji was hiding, hopeful he would reacquaint himself with the rest of the troupe. And, as if reading your mind, Sanji scrambled to his feet, standing alongside Zoro and Usopp like he’d been there all along.

You exhaled softly, continuing to the Duke, “It was going to be a surprise, but we supposed it would be best for you to see it now, before we started any production. You are so wise with your investments, we didn’t want to be presumptuous.” 

Crocodile gave you an odd look, and for a moment, you weren’t sure he believed you. Then, you flashed him a hopeful smile, naive under all the great bravado, and he relented, amused by your earnestness. 

“Well, I am not usually interested in investing in such small ordeals, but…” He waved a hand, before running the other down the breadth of your spine, a touch that was near possessive. “If it stars our lovely diamond, it is sure to be a hit, no?” 

You relaxed, making a show of leaning into his advances. 

“Of course,” Buggy proclaimed, far too intense for your liking, as he tried to ease the Duke back out of the Elephant Room. “Would you like to get started on paperwork? How about we work out the details, and we’ll find another evening for you and—”

Crocodile raised a hand, the room swiftly silenced. “I need to know the story first, before we handle business. Not even the most beautiful of stars can carry a dying universe, I’m afraid.” He turned to you, his eyes so intense it was hard to muster up the courage to speak.

“Story?” You blinked, your smile falling. “Yes. Right. The story. Well, that’s an excellent question, and you would be certain to ask that, of course…” You looked to Buggy, then Usopp, who seemed all too happy to blend in with the shadows. Then to Zoro, who stood stiffly, and shrugged. Finally, your eyes landed on Luffy, who was grinning wildly and pushing Sanji forward, far too excited that this was all taking place.

“Here’s our writer,” Luffy proclaimed, patting Sanji on the back before taking a step away and crossing his arms. “Go on and tell them.” 

Which was a way to say the play hasn’t been written yet, and we’re making this all up as we go, in less obvious words. 

You wanted to melt into the floor, curl away from the hot palm that still rested on the small of your back, as you stared at Sanji helplessly, begging him to come up with an answer. 

And while the time seem to pass far too slowly for your liking, he didn’t even fumble for words as he nodded to you, dragging his eyes across the audience that was watching him expectantly. 

“It’s about love,” he said smoothly, confidence seemingly regained now that you weren’t the only person in the room. “It’s about love overcoming all obstacles.”

His eyes met yours once again, so deeply blue and beautiful. Against your better judgment, your heart surged out of your chest. 

“Yes! And it’s set in Switzerland!” Luffy exclaimed, laughing with delight. 

“No, no,” Sanji snapped, before recovering his story, mind working rapidly as he thought up a tale that would be imaginative enough to spark the interest of the Duke. “It’s set on the seas!” Then he lowered his overexcited voice, the words softening with adoration. “And there’s a courtesan. The most beautiful courtesan in the world.” 

Sanji's gaze fixed on you, and you blinked away, hating that awful feeling that bloomed in your heart. Still, a small smile tugged at your lips, one that you hid from everyone else. 

“But,” he said, tearing his attention away from you. “Her city’s been invaded by an evil pirate Warlord. Now, in order to save her kingdom, she has to seduce the evil Warlord. But, on the night of her seduction, she mistakes a penniless… A penniless…” He looked around helplessly, licking his lips. “A penniless cook, and she falls in love with him. He wasn’t trying to trick her, but he was dressed as a prince because… well… he was trying to infiltrate the Warlord’s headquarters.” 

“And I will play the captain of the crew that the cook works on!” Usopp interjected, taking a step in front of Sanji, his arms raised high with excitement, far too proud of himself. 

You coughed down a laugh as Crocodile regarded him with an impatient look. “Alright... What happens next?”

Sanji spared a quick scowl to Usopp, before regaining the attention of everyone in the room, weaving each word with precision. “Well, the cook and the courtesan, they are to hide their love from the evil Warlord—”

“With the help of their actual Captain, who has magical powers where he’s made out of rubber!” Luffy, this time, decided to add his own artistic storytelling, which silenced the entire room from skepticism.

Sanji blinked, hesitant. “Yes, well, that part’s still in the works,” he promised Crocodile, waving his hand dismissively. “There’ll be a crew, with a swordsman and a navigator… and of course the Warlord will have his own set of pirates working for him. It’s a grand production, the embodiment of the Bohemian ideals…” 

Sanji continued the story, crafting a plot of truth, beauty, freedom and love. But you were focused only on him, the passion with which he spun the tale, softening at the tragic romance that would take place between the courtesan and the cook. Every so often, your eyes would meet, and you would smile, if only slightly, with encouragement, enough to keep up his unwavering confidence until the end. 

"The finale hasn't been written yet,” he admitted, wrapping up his summary of the unfinished play, as the rest of you huddled around Crocodile for a reaction, his face dreadfully unreadable. “But—”

“We would love to get you involved artistically,” Buggy interrupted, excited by the prospects of the thrilling production and an investor. “If you have any suggestions.” 

A tense ten seconds passed, as Crocodile regarded each one of you, thoughtful. “The story could use some work,” he mused. “But, generally I like it.” 

An eruption of cheers burst out from each of you, and you smiled, giggling as you leaned into the Duke, hopeful that your gratitude was evident. Across the room, Sanji relaxed, lighting up another cigarette, and Buggy gestured forward, talking at such a rapid speed you were certain his words were slurring together. 

“Come, come with me,” he said, ushering Crocodile out of the room. “We’ll talk business.” 

Crocodile followed, but spared one last moment for you, as you followed the two men to the door, guiding him out. 

“I apologize that our evening together was different than anticipated,” you said, as genuinely as you could, tracing a hand down his chest. “Perhaps another night would be best for us to talk.” 

“Perhaps.” He hummed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his smile widening crookedly. “I still need to get acquainted with our star. Fame will suit you, my dear.” 

You smiled, a surge of pride overcoming you, one so strong that you couldn’t even wallow in the discomfort of his touch. “I look forward to it.” 

The two of you parted, the moment evaporating as Crocodile followed Buggy out the door. And, when it finally slammed shut behind the two of them, you exhaled, all of the anxiety leaving your body in a flush. 

The four other men went silent as you whirled on them, expressions dour as they waited for you to be the first to speak. Sanji’s jaw was tight as he looked away from the door, back to you, regarding you with an unreadable expression.

But, you were still reeling on your success, too excited to care about the anger you’d felt earlier. You broke into a cheerful grin, rushing to throw your arms around the young ring-leader. “Luffy,” you said, close to weeping. Things weren’t over yet, but there was a parting in the clouds, a sun shining through, as the hope of a future, a better one, became real. “Thank you. For the first time, one of your ridiculous plans actually worked. I’m very grateful.” 

He smiled like it was nothing, and your laughter became infectious, bubbling out of you in an effort to keep down your tears. You turned to the other two, both watching you curiously. 

“Usopp, thank you for that wonderful recovery. I’m not sure what we would have done if you’d not planned an emergency rehearsal.” 

He grinned wide, puffing his chest out. “Ah, well, I knew someone had to act fast.” 

Lastly, you turned to the green-haired man, and his name sooner died on your lips, when you realized he had contributed very little. “Zoro. You were useless actually.” 

Sanji snorted, and though Zoro’s face twitched, he didn’t bother saying anything to the writer. “You looked like you had it handled.” He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Well. I suppose we did.” You rolled your eyes, your mood suddenly deflating. The high of panic and elation had worn on you, leaving you with an ache in the back of your head, your hands still jittery. “Anyway, I’ve just about had all the fun I can handle for one night—”

“Uh-huh,” Zoro scoffed, a jab at your rather unconventional occupation.

You ignored him, pushing them all towards the door. “—I am very grateful for your help in getting our new investor, but we’ve got a busy week ahead, and I would like some rest. So, leave.” 

They all held their hands up in surrender, and while Sanji hadn’t been a part of the group you’d been addressing, he slowly followed when Luffy called out to him. There was talk of throwing a party across the street, at the dingy apartment complex that all the Bohemians lived in, despite it being late already.

The four of them made to leave, waving enthusiastically as they rushed down the stairs, far too worked up to be quiet. Sanji lagged behind them, giving you a kind smile before making his exit, a soft bonne nuit, escaping his lips.

“Sanji…” You called out, just before he closed the door behind him, his hand resting on the frame. Sanji turned, glancing over his shoulder, bright eyes pinning you right where you stood. “I’m sorry. So very sorry for the misunderstanding.” You waved your hand, drawing your fingers across your face to rest on your cheeks, already warm with shame. “I feel horrible.”

He paused, before a a grin split his face, irises burning with soft intensity. “Don’t,” he said, exhaling a laugh. “I enjoyed it, actually.” 

thank u so much for reading and for all the endless support!! i appreciate you all so very much ♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ༶ )

tagging those who rb'd / commented <3 pls let me know if you'd like to be added !

@cerberels / @keeper-of-my-heart / @chuuminn / @eussstasss / @mncxbe / @tetzoro / @msheds0519 / @awealuc / @akuma-coffee / @stunie / @chositooo / @piichuu

[cherry-bomb-ships]

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE ASK GAME

Send in a emoji/prompt listed below and the user will create an AU based on the prompt. 🩷

These prompts are meant to be somewhat vague, so the way they can be interpreted is entirely up to the user's imagination! 🩷

These can be used as art prompts, writing prompts, or just for headcanons. Also, while these were initially made for self shipping, they can be used for ocs or ships in general. 🩷

Please practice reblog karma if reblogging. 🩷

This will be updated as I think of more! If you have any suggestions let me know. Last update: 07/19/24 🩷

Proship & proship-neutral, please do not interact.

SWAPS

🚻 - Body Swap AU

➕️ - Fusion AU

🔄 - Personality Swap AU

⏏️ - Reverse Selfship AU

🔏 - Role Swap AU

FANTASY

🤖 - Android AU

😈 - Demon AU

🧍‍♀️- Giant/Tiny AU

👻 - Ghost AU

🌟 - Magical Girl AU

🧜‍♀️ - Mermaid AU

🦸‍♂️ - Superhero/Supervillain AU

🧛‍♀️ - Vampire AU

🐺 - Werewolf AU

🪄 - Witch/Wizard AU

HISTORICAL

🤠 - Cowboy/Western AU

🪮 - Greaser AU

💰 - Mafia AU

🏰 - Medieval AU

🏴‍☠️ - Pirate AU

👑 - Royalty AU

🎩 - Victorian AU

SLICE OF LIFE

🎤 - Band AU

☕️ - Coffee Shop AU

📒 - College AU

💼 - Coworkers AU

📱 - Modern Day AU

EXISTING MEDIA

🍄 - Alice in Wonderland AU

💫 - Disney Movie AU

🐲 - Dungeons and Dragons AU (or similar fantasy media)

🔩 - Frankenstein AU

🦄 - My Little Pony AU

⚡️ - Pokemon AU

💞 - Romantic Comedy AU

🔪 - Slasher AU

TROPES

👰‍♂ - Arranged Marraige AU

🌱 - Childhood Friends AU

💐 - Fake Dating AU

🐶 - Furry AU (or Humanized AU)

🥀 - Hanahaki AU

🏆 - Rivals AU

🪢 - Soulmate AU (String of Fate, Matching Birthmarks, Same Dreams, etc)

🧟‍♂️ - Zombie Apocalypse AU

[hongluboobs]

ur always chasin that damn Whale🙄‼️

[azuries]

life through death’s eyes

speedpaint below:

[im-bored-so-i-draw]

character designing is my passion (literally all i did in these past days)

this is all i can manage to draw digitally 👍

[macbethz]

My niche little passion project, a 1994 music magazine from a world where the microchip was never invented, replaced by neuron computers pioneered for electronic music 

text only and "behind the scenes" (unedited photos and lore)

high quality PDF free on gumroad!

[skyloftian-nutcase]

The Pirate (Dad Squad)

EVERYBODY COME GET YOUR LINEBECK SOUP!!

Abel shook the strange feeling off of himself as they stepped through the gate created by the item. If it had led them here, that likely meant its twin had opened a portal to this land as well.

Blinking a few times to reorient after the brief kaleidoscope of light, Abel took in the sight of a bright sun, the smell of sea salt, and the sound of crashing waves. They were obviously by the ocean, though he had no idea where in particular, or what sea. He only knew of the Lanayru Sea, but tales spoke of other bodies of water that rivaled it.

Rusl walked ahead first, adapting quickly, eyes alert but face placid. Abel watched the Fierce Deity walk after him, unreadable as usual.

Something clearly caught their attention as they stood at the edge of the dock, staring. Abel peeked around them, wondering what it was, when he caught sight of the scene.

A ship was sinking. But it was moving towards them. Its deck had just been submerged, and its mast was all that was remaining. A man stood atop it, glaring ahead fiercely as if willing the boat to make it to the dock in time, but his posture was proud as if this had been planned all along.

What in the world...?

The mast managed to reach the dock in the nick of time, allowing the man to step off. He blew out a sigh, looking like his knees were about to buckle, when he caught sight of the group of men. He sized them up quickly, eyes widening a little at the sight of the deity, and then waved sharply. "How's it going? I'm just passing through. Gotta go now. Important things to do."

"Wait," Rusl interrupted, stepping into his way. "Can you tell us where we are?"

The man blinked, hackles less raised, confusion evident. "Where you--this is Mercay Island. How do you not know that? What, you get clocked by those red spandex wearing freakshows too?"

Abel immediately stiffened. "The Yiga were here?!"

"The who?" the man bounced back, looking even more confused as the wind whipped through his dark brown hair.

"It's a group of demon worshippers," Rusl explained. "They've taken our sons. We're tracking them. Where did you see them?"

The man's face flushed, eyebrows coming together in outrage. "They took someone of mine as well! And he's my best crewmate! Well, he's my only crewmate, but that isn't the point! I came here in search of a new ship to track them down since they--they sunk--"

Here the man sniffled, glancing away in seeming anguish at the lost of his boat.

"I'm sorry about your ship," Rusl said appeasingly. "But perhaps we can help each other."

The man hummed, crossing his arms and squinting at them as if he were debating the matter.

Abel started to grow impatient. "Do you want to find your crewmate or not?"

"Don't get short with me!" the man snapped. "I am Linebeck, captain of the seas, and I know this place better than anyone, especially you guys. I'm your only chance to find those freaks, so you're going to take orders from me now!"

The Fierce Deity picked the greasy looking man by the back of his coat, bringing him to eye level. The man, in turn, squealed, flailing his arms and legs in a desperate maneuver to get out of the hold, yelling, "LET ME GO, YOU BEACHED WHALE!"

Abel glanced at the deity, tempted to tell him to toss the man into the sea, but if he truly had seen the Yiga, then they unfortunately needed his help. Rusl just sighed, seeming to grow a little tired of being the sole negotiator of the group.

"How do you propose we find the Yiga if your ship has been damaged?" Fierce asked, silencing the man's squeals. "If I retrieve it, will you be able to repair it expediently?"

"Retrieve--it's sinking into the sea, you small brained land mass!"

Abel did have to almost laugh at that one. Rusl looked unimpressed by the man's impolite demeanor, but at least his insults were entertaining. Nevertheless, they needed to move.

Fierce seemed to sense Abel's impatience and Rusl's disapproval, casually tossing the sailor aside as he walked up to the mast. The man spluttered, shakily trying to get to his feet before promptly falling back on to his backside as he watched the deity singlehandedly start to pull the ship out of the water with a firm grasp at its mast. Abel heard the wood start to give, though, not tolerating the force it took to fight the water crushing the rest of the ship, and he put a hand on Fierce's shoulder. "Let it go. We'll have to find another way."

Rusl turned to Linebeck. "We'll work with you, friend, but not for you. Understood?"

Linebeck gulped, still trying to process what he just saw, and then he huffed, rising. "F-fine. Whatever. But I'm still in charge."

Abel felt his eyebrows pinch together. "That's not--"

"Let's go!" Linebeck announced, twirling around and marching towards the island. "I know just the ship we can acquire."

The three trudged behind him somewhat reluctantly. Abel bristled at being given orders from someone like this, but he kept his mouth shut for now. Instead, it was the sea captain who spoke first.

"So... what are all your names?" he asked as he continued to stride ahead.

The Ordonian answered first. "I'm Rusl. This is Abel, and Fierce."

"Fierce?" Linebeck repeated, glancing back at him. "Weird name."

"It is my title," Fierce clarified.

"Title? Who calls you Fierce? Fierce what, Fierce Breaker of Personal Boundaries?"

This man talked entirely too much.

"What's the plan?" Abel asked before the conversation could continue.

"That ship," Linebeck said, pointing towards a relatively large ship sitting in the harbor. "We can use that to track those scum."

"If you already had another ship, why were you perturbed at the loss of your other one?" Fierce questioned.

"It's not his," Abel surmised quickly.

Rusl smiled, rolling his shoulders. "All right, then. Who owns it?"

Abel glanced over at the Ordonian, a little baffled. He still hadn't entirely wrapped his head around what kind of work this man did - he was the most polite and kind of the group, easy with people, yet he condoned stealing in a heartbeat.

Not that Abel wouldn't steal if he had to, but... he had to. Rusl was... he didn't know. This just certainly was not the first time the man had done it, that was for sure.

And clearly, this sailor was more akin to a pirate.

Sighing heavily, Abel listened as Linebeck prattled on about some women "who won't be a problem," and the three men started moving steadily towards the boat.

Surprisingly, it only seemed to have two women aboard - Linebeck claimed that the rest of the crew was at the market. That at least made things simpler.

The four moved quickly. Rusl crouched low, leading the way and pulling out a dagger he hid in his belt. Despite being quite the swordsman, Abel had observed that Rusl often resorted to a dagger in close combat, and the more he saw it, the more he questioned the blacksmith's occupation. Fierce, on the other hand, left his hands open, likely not wanting to use his powerful blade on a couple women guarding a ship. Linebeck was also unarmed, curiously.

Sighing, Abel unsheathed his sword. He caught up to Rusl, and the two rushed up the gangway, picking a target and quickly overpowering them. Rusl never unsheathed his dagger, only using its small hilt to smack the woman across the temple, knocing her unconscious and covering her mouth as she fell. Her companion caught sight of him before Abel could get to her, yelling, but Abel easily tossed her overboard while Rusl pushed the other down the ramp.

Fierce walked aboard next, glancing around, while Linebeck sauntered aboard. The pirate's face was tight, as if he hadn't quite expected the ferocity the men had displayed, but he tried to cover it with a quick little, "Well done. Now we can depart."

"Not yet," Fierce said quietly, his voice in that low tone he used when stalking prey. Abel immediately went alert, whirling to find what he was looking at, when--

"Intruders!!"

Turning sharply, Abel saw a woman pointing from a door leading below deck. Within an instant, at least ten other women appeared, all armed and snarling.

"You said they were in the market!" Abel yelled as he readied for a fight.

Linebeck didn't reply, seemingly vanishing into thin air, and Abel only caught sight of his blue tailcoats slipping under a barrel.

"Did--did he just--"

"Not now!" Rusl snapped as their enemies charged on them.

Abel focused quickly, dodging a strike from a nearby fighter before parrying her blade and kicking her away to create some distance. Thankfully, he still had at least one functional shield left, and he quickly used it to block a jab from another enemy. Before he could retaliate, the two women were swept away by a... screaming woman?

Abel glanced to his right to see Fierce holding one of the fighters by her wrist and using her as a weapon to ram into the others. At his questioning glance, the deity explained, "The little hero usually does not approve of killing mortals. If these women prove problematic, I'll eliminate them, but for now--"

"Behind you!" Abel interrupted, pointing as another fighter tried to leap off the rail of the deck and stab Fierce in the head. The deity swatted her like a fly, and she rammed into the opposite end of the ship.

"Jolene!" some of the others shouted. Abel immediately perked up at the reaction - clearly this woman was important, maybe even the leader.

"Toss her off!" Abel ordered the deity, moving to intercept a few other enemies. He glanced to his left to check on Rusl and found the Ordonian starting to accumulate a pile of enemies who were on the ground writhing or motionless.

The former knight felt a swell of pride for his friend before looking back to see Fierce easily throwing the leader off the ship. As predicted, the others followed to check on her, leaving the men in peace temporarily. Abel put his sword and shield away to pull out his bow and arrows while Rusl pulled the gangway up to prevent them from returning. Moving to the edge of the ship, Abel nocked the arrow, aiming for a second before letting it fly. It sank into the woman's shoulder, making her scream in pain.

He nocked another arrow.

"Abel," Rusl interrupted, putting a hand on his shoulder. "The fight is over."

Abel continued to stare at his target. Killing her would put the rest of her crew into chaos. It would prevent them from following them.

Rusl's hand tightened a little, reassuring but firm. "Abel."

Sighing, Abel slowly lowered the bow and arrow. His focus was interrupted as he heard splashing, glancing over to see Fierce throwing the bodies overboard.

There was a scrape of wood on wood, catching the men's attention, and they all drew their weapons to see--

Linebeck, peeking out from under the barrel. "Oh, are they all gone?"

I'm going to kill him. Abel marched forward, eyes alight with rage, when he was held back by Fierce, who pinched the back of his tunic to prevent him from moving ahead. He turned to snap at the deity, but his words were quickly overrun by the pirate, who dusted himself off and continued, "Well done, then! We're ready to set sail! I'll man the helm."

As he moved forward on the deck, he scurried all of a sudden, filled with seemingly feral energy, and stood on his tiptoes at the railing, shouting, "THAT'S FOR ALMOST BLOWING UP MY SHIP TWO WEEKS AGO, JOLENE!"

Before anyone could comment, he rushed to set sail as if his life depended on it, guiding the ship out to sea.

Abel blew out a frustrated breath, and he felt Fierce release him. He kicked the barrel under which the pirate had been hiding, taking little satisfaction from it but having to get his anger out somehow.

Rusl took a moment to calm himself as well, though far less noticeably, before he walked over to the wheel. "So where are we going?"

"Bannan Island," Linebeck answered, eyes on the horizon. "That was the direction they went, towards the north sea. They also claimed to be going to a Banana Island, so I think they heard the place's name wrong."

Banana Island. Goddess. Sometimes Abel was almost embarrassed that these were his enemies. Though it simply proved that sheer numbers could cause enough of a threat, despite how idiotic they were.

There was silence for a while as Marcay Island grew steadily smaller. The adrenaline of the fight wore off, and Abel slowly slid to the ground, feeling his stomach grow steadily more upset at the tossing of the waves.

"Who are these people, anyway?" Linebeck eventually asked, glancing at Rusl. "What do they want?"

"They essentially want to see the world burn," Rusl answered, crossing his arms. "Somehow that involves taking our sons hostage."

Linebeck pursed his lips, debating some issue, and sighed. "Well, that's rotten luck. Good thing you have me."

"Oh yes," Abel huffed. "Where would we be without you?"

Linebeck didn't seem to catch his quip, or if he did, his rebuttal was interrupted by Fierce asking, "Why did they take your crewmate?"

Linebeck's face soured, and he glared ahead of him at nothing in particular. "Whatever the reason, Link can probably get himself of out of it. But... I need a crew. So I'm finding the kid."

Link?!

No. Surely not. There was no way this disgrace of a man had a Hero in his crew, and--

Oh goddess he did, didn't he? That would be why the Yiga targeted him.

"Our boys are named Link too," Rusl said, eyes widening a little as he came to the same conclusion. "Heroes of Hyrule, spread across time. I think they must be targeting them because they know they'd stop them otherwise."

"Heroes? Hyrule?" Linebeck repeated, staring at him. "My kid isn't a--I mean, he's--look, he's my crew, and... he's a good kid, but..."

The pirate bit his lip, staring at the wheel a moment, still and silent. Worry etched every feature before he shook his head.

"The Yiga will perish," Fierce assured him. "We'll find your child."

Linebeck flushed. "H-he's not my child!!"

"Right," Rusl chuckled, patting the man on the back.

Abel sighed, ignoring the pirate temporarily and looking at at sea. The horizon bounced up and down along with the ship, giving him a headache, and he closed his eyes. He wondered if they'd actually have any luck this time - all they'd found were scraps of information and cold leads. This attack seemed fairly fresh, so hopefully they could make it in time.

Ugh. Closing his eyes made the seasickness worse.

Thunder rumbled, catching Abel's attention, and he hastily opened his eyes to see dark clouds ahead. "Uh..."

"Are we going to sail through the storm?" Fierce questioned, staring at the abysmal weather.

"No sailor goes through a storm on purpose," Linebeck immediately said. "That's just suicide. Lucky for you, I'm an excellent sailor. We'll skirt around it - I don't want to lose too much time."

At least Abel could agree with the man on that. But still... even he, someone who did not navigate the ocean, knew not to get near a storm out in the open sea. "Are we sure about this? We should probably try to avoid it altogether."

"And give those sea vipers time to get away?" Linebeck growled, glaring at the clouds. "Ha! I, Linebeck, master of the seas, can handle this just fine! I'm getting my crew back, blast it!"

Well... he couldn't fault him for his determination, at least. But still... Abel sighed, hugging the wooden support rung under the railing, lightly bouncing his forehead against it. "We're going to die."

Abel's relatively mild quip felt more and more like a promise the closer they got. The winds picked up, the sea turning a sickly green, and Abel nearly threw up with how much they were being tossed around. Rusl nearly flew across the ship as one wave almost overturned them, and Fierce had to grab him by his shirt to save him. The three men clung to the rail desperately, occasionally getting beaten by walls of water spilling overtop them.

Abel looked to the helm worriedly, feeling completely out of control and petrified, only to see Linebeck standing firmly, holding the wheel with a steel grip. He glared defiantly at the sea, almost daring it to try its worst, confident and firm in his stance.

At the sight, the former knight had to admit he felt almost a little reassured.

Another wave crashed into them, and Abel watched Linebeck release the wheel a moment, letting it turn sharply, guiding the ship to ride with the wave. Then he grasped it, guiding the mast with gritted teeth as he fought against the whipping winds. Fierce pulled Abel close, shielding both him and Rusl with an iron grip to the railing so the waves wouldn't knock them off.

Honestly, with the way they were getting tossed, Abel would be surprised if they didn't capsize. He clung desperately to both the rail and the Fierce Deity, feeling the mythical being's strong arm pressing him and Rusl closer together. Rusl and Abel exchanged a look, some kind of finality or certainty in each other's eyes as they nearly flew over another wave, facing it head on.

They still had to find their boys. Abel had to get back to Tilieth. He'd survived a damn apocalypse, he wasn't letting this be what killed him.

Glancing up at the pirate again, Abel saw the same fierce determination on his face. It was a promise, and despite how Abel's entire world was trying to kill him, he took comfort in it.

Abel closed his eyes, his forehead touching Fierce's sleeve, his hand brushing against Rusl's as they both held on to the deity for dear life, shivering and trusting and letting go.

Hylia... I leave this up to you. Don't let me down.

He lost track of time. All he heard was the crashing of waves, like claps of thunder, roaring in his ears, making his heart pound. But slowly, surely, the boat jostled them less, the wind didn't howl as it had, and the ship rocked and bounced up and down like a hammock instead of feeling like an earthquake.

Abel opened his eyes, dripping wet, tasting salt and bile, and saw sunlight.

Linebeck smiled down at them, hands on his hips, looking triumphant. "Told you I was the best."

Rusl barked out a laugh, slowly rising while Abel continued to shiver in Fierce's hold. "Well, I'm certainly impressed."

"Are you alright?" Fierce whispered softly, his arm shifting to rest his hand on Abel's back.

Hesitantly, Abel rose, testing his legs, though his knees certainly felt like they could give out at any moment.

It was official. He despised sailing.

But he could recognize and admire skill when he saw it. "Well done, Linebeck."

The pirate beamed, postiively preening at the praise, and Abel found he couldn't hold himself together any longer, leaning over the rail and vomiting.

Linebeck cackled quietly, heading back to his original spot. "Well, it isn't for everyone, I guess. But I promise the rest of the way is less rough."

Rusl helped Abel sink back to the floor while Fierce grabbed some water at the Ordonian's request.

"You good?" Rusl asked. He was shivering too, just as soaked to the bone as Abel, but he seemed far better put together.

"Nothing fazes you, does it?" Abel asked hoarsely, somewhat annoyed and jealous.

Rusl smirked. "We all have our strengths. You're certainly a better fighter than me."

If you say so. Abel pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a little less nauseous, and accepted the water Fierce offered him.

The sun slowly dried everyone off as they continued to make their way to their destination. Eventually, Rusl, being the talkative man that he was, starting gently interrogating their captain while Abel leaned against Fierce with his eyes closed. The deity didn't mind, letting himself be a pillow, but Abel could hear fabric shift as he turned to listen in to the other two.

"How did Link become part of your crew?"

"Well, I was hunting treasure," Linebeck explained. "Link wanted to find the ship I was looking for. His friend, uh, needed some help. So we worked together. I figured the kid worked so well it only made sense that he stick around. He..."

Here the pirate paused, and Abel looked over at him. His eyes were cast downward, and though shadows pulled at the dark circles under his eyes, he had a gentle smile on his face.

"He's a good kid."

Fierce sighed quietly, barely audible over the breeze. "I must figure out why these Yiga are after our children."

Linebeck grew flustered. "I said he wasn't my kid!! Look, he's just a useful member of the crew, okay? Honestly, I'm not that soft!"

Fierce blinked, the slightest crinkle to his nose, a dead giveaway that he was bemused. "You speak of love and affection as if they are weaknesses."

"Wha--I--this is silly, I am a pirate, and--"

"And?" Rusl prompted, eyebrows raised, a mischievous, gentle smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. Fierce may not have understood the man's blustering, but Rusl clearly was just trying to mess with him now, seeing right through his bravado.

Personally, Abel was just a little exasperated by it. Men who pretended they were "tough" and nothing affected them all the time simply to show off annoyed him. He used to maintain a calm façade not because he was trying to prove a point, but because the last thing people needed was to see someone in charge panicking. This was different. This wasn't a way to keep others feeling safe and secure, this wasn't a means of protecting others, this was a pitiful attempt for Linebeck to protect himself.

Perhaps it wouldn't annoy him so much if he didn't suspect the man behaved this way in front of his kid too. He could act a fool to others, but if he denied his affection for his boy right in front of him, Abel did not approve of that.

But he didn't have to say anything. Fierce's innocent confusion would tear down his argument well enough.

Linebeck huffed, looking like he was scrambling for an argument, but Abel had to interrupt it when he caught sight of something. "Is that land?"

Everyone turned to look, seeing a small splotch of yellow and black andd green, and Linebeck laughed triumphantly. "There it is! Land ho! I told you I would get us there in record time! Now hold on, you sorry land slugs, we're coming in fast!"

He was true to his word as it seemed to take little time to reach their destination. For once, it was blessedly easy to find their target - a large ship with the Yiga symbol on its mast, painted sloppily as if it had just been done, was at the port. Linebeck worked to slow their approach, when Abel instead insisted, "Don't slow us down, just ram it - we'll take care of the rest!"

"There's a cannon on this ship," Rusl noted.

"We can't risk hurting the boys if they're aboard," Abel argued, shaking his head. "Just damage it enough to stop them from escaping, and we can board."

Linebeck nodded. "Just so you know... it's uh, all up to you once we get there. I'm a fantastic fighter, but I'm afraid my sword is on my own ship."

Rusl and Abel both stared at him dully. "Right."

The men prepared themselves, weapons at the ready. Fierce pulled out his double helix blade, making Linebeck's eyes double in size. "Geez, overkill much? Get ready, we'll hit them on the port side."

"The--the what side?"

"Port, on the port--ugh, on your left!!"

The three moved, and Linebeck snapped, "Your other left!! Left from facing the bow!"

Abel sighed heavily, positioning himself and bracing for impact alongside the other two. As the Yiga ship grew closer at an admittedly unnerving rate, he prepared to jump.

Their boat slammed the Yiga ship, impaling its hull slightly and causing it to rock so severely that they could hear some of the enemies screaming and falling into the sea.

Linebeck roared in satisfaction. "HAHA, TAKE THAT YOU BRAINLESS JELLYFISH!"

Abel let the momentum of the movement carry him, Rusl, and Fierce across as they leapt with the contact. The Yiga boat was still nearly on its side when they landed, causing them to slip a little, but Abel recovered quickly, decapitating the first Yiga in sight before moving on to the next. The team moved quickly, with Fierce taking out swathes of the enemy in one fell swoop while Rusl tore ahead. Abel scoured the area for signs of a leader, entering the underbelly of the ship as well.

When he reached the brig, he froze, breath stolen from his lungs. There was another gate there, its bright kaleidoscope dizzyingly swirling, and two Yiga stood before it, holding an unconscious boy.

Oh hell no! Charging ahead, Abel stabbed one Yiga quickly, kicking the other off the child before finishing him off. Rusl hastened in shortly thereafter, wiping blood of his sword.

"Anyone else?" Abel asked as he knelt down to check on the child.

Rusl shook his head, cheeks flushed, eyes aflame. He held up a booklet. "Found a journal log, though. Might be able to help us."

At this point, Abel honestly wasn't surprised, just exasperated. He supposed the Yiga's main purpose in being here was to take this boy. Theirs were still at large.

At least they'd spared this boy the same fate.

Fierce entered last. "The enemy has been eliminated."

Abel sighed, looking down. The boy in front of him was young, not even a teenager from the looks of it, though he was likely close. His hair was thick and wispy, golden as the sands and thick with mositure and sea salt. He wore a green tunic and undershirt, paired with white trousers.

"Link!"

Catching the men's attention, Linebeck rushed into the room, kneeling down beside the boy. His hands hovered over him hesitantly, face paling at the abrasions on the boy's face. At first his concern was genuine, but his eyes shifted to the dead Yiga around him and suddenly he looked woozy.

Abel fought the urge to roll his eyes. He motioned with his head to Fierce, who quietly removed the bodies. With the distraction gone, the pirate returned his attention to the child, considerably less pale but still oh so hesitant and gentle with Link.

The boy stirred, squeezing his eyes before slowly blinking them open. Abel could see the immediate sparkle of relief as the boy registered seeing Linebeck, and the former knight smiled a little.

Linebeck smiled in return, hands finally settling on the child, patting hsi cheek and helping him sit up. His grip settled on the boy's shoulders, and he took a steadying breath.

And then he started shaking him like a rag doll.

"You stupid sea monkey, what were you thinking do you have any idea how much trouble I had to go through just to get to you, they sank my ship, now we have to get a new one--!"

The other men stared, a little caught off guard, and then Rusl gently pointed out, "Easy, you're going to give the kid whiplash."

Linebeck paused, glancing at them, leaving Link nearly limp in his grip, eyes dazed and clearly dizzy. The pirate huffed, pulling the boy to his feet, and Link stumbled around a few paces before nearly collapsing against him.

Sighing, Linebeck settled an arm around the child to keep him from falling over, letting him lean against him. "Well. The job's done, at least. But... didn't you say your boys were missing too?"

Rusl smirked. "Ah, so he is your boy?"

Linebeck jumped, eyes widening. "W-wha--no, I--you're dodging the question!"

Rusl waved the booklet in response. "I'm sure this log will have valuable information for us. But you and your son should get out of here. We'll make sure the Yiga can't come back."

Linebeck was practically inflating with hot air to rebuke Rusl's claims about him and Link, but he instead stormed out. "Honestly, I rescue you ungrateful sea barnacles and you mock me. I'm leaving."

"You forgot your kid," Abel noted dully as the boy shook his head and steadied himself.

"Link, let's go, what are you waiting for!" Linebeck called from above deck.

Abel put a steadying hand on the boy's shoulder while Rusl smiled warmly at him. "Better get going, son."

The boy looked between them, adn then the Fierce Deity, and then he nodded, saying softly, "Thank you. Thank you for taking care Linebeck."

With that, the kid ran outside, and Rusl laughed. Abel had to chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Let's get through this gate and seal it," Abel suggested. "We can read the journal after we get out of here. The less likely they can come back, the better."

Fierce's reply was cut off by voices from above.

"Linebeck, look! It's Jolene's ship!"

"Of course it is, I stole it!"

"But then why is your ship over there?"

"What?! My ship was--that's my ship!"

"Oh! I think I see Jolene on it!"

"She fixed my ship? SHE STOLE MY SHIP??"

Rusl and Abel exchanged a look, and then they both snickered.

Fierce glanced hesitantly above deck, but Abel shook his head. "Leave him to his fate. Clearly this is not their first encounter, and they've managed without us. We should go."

With that, the three men strode forward, preparing for another adventure.

[blackjackkent]

Ask prompt fill for @thedarkstrategist from this ask meme: Lord Huron Lyric Prompts

Shadowheart - "I had a name but they took it from me."

Some more Shadowzel for you, friend. :D Low-key kinda proud of this one.

-----

Shadowheart sits on her bedroll next to the fire, slowly working her way through one of the larger bottles of ale from the camp supplies. She squints tipsily at Buddy, who gives a slow blink back at her and gives a sleepy hoot. 

Lae’zel, sitting nearby, looks up from the dagger she is sharpening. “You should rest, fynh duj,” she says with a touch of muted, dry amusement, having watched her lover’s slow progression into inebriation over the course of the preceding hour. It is, perhaps, not the best use of her time given that they make for the Wyrmway in the morning - but on the other hand, it’s the most relaxed Lae’zel has seen her since the House of Grief, so it’s hard to protest too much. 

“Hmph. Not yet,” Shadowheart grumbles. She takes another swig from the bottle of ale next to her. Then, with a grunt, she squirms off of her bedroll and across the ground, until her head butts up against the owlbear’s feathery flank and she can settle in against his side. “There. That’s better…” she mumbles contentedly. 

Buddy has grown considerably in the weeks since he joined the camp; Jaheira says he is almost full-grown now. This causes some trouble, for he still sometimes acts as if he is still the size of a cub, which has led to more than one crushed tent in the times they’ve camped in Rivington and the Lower City. But he’s grown mellow overall, enjoying nights curled up by the fire with whoever happens to be awake latest - which, tonight, is Shadowheart and Lae’zel. 

He still, sometimes, touches that fear of wolves and wild things that Viconia drummed into Shadowheart’s soul. But she is learning to move past that, to push it away, and to find comfort in the rhythm, muted chirp growl of his breath when he allows her to snuggle against him like this. 

She takes another overlarge gulp of ale and leans back into Buddy’s bulk, turning slightly so she can stare at the owlbear’s massive head with sudden intensity.

Lae’zel sets the blade aside slowly, curling her legs under her. “What are you thinking about?” she asks.

Shadowheart starts, as if she’d forgotten anyone else was there. “Names,” she says, slurring only a little on the end of the word. “Mine. And his.”

As if he can tell she’s talking about him, Buddy lifts his head slightly and gives another drowsy, questioning hoot.

“Yes,” she murmurs. A long silence. “I had a name,” she goes on after a little while. “But they took it from me.” It’s loud enough that Lae’zel can hear it, but seems to be directed more towards herself - or perhaps to Buddy, who has dropped his head back to rest on his paws, watching her with his beady, dark eyes. “They took it from me. And they gave me a new one. Jenevelle. Shadowheart. First one… then the other.” 

She frowns. “And you - maybe you had some other name, or no name at all… but now you’re Buddy. We gave you that.”

Her eyebrows knit worriedly and she looks towards Lae’zel with a flash of uncharacteristic anxiety, inner struggle stripped bare by the coating of alcohol. “D’you think,” she asks unsteadily, “he’d rather be called something else?”

Lae’zel raises one eyebrow slowly. It doesn’t even occur to her to laugh, despite the rather pathetically soppy nature of the question. Nuance is sometimes lost on her, but even she is well aware it isn’t really the owlbear they’re talking about. “Perhaps,” she says slowly. “We could speak to him and see. Jaheira has magic for this purpose. If he wishes to be called something different, something he was called before - he has only to ask.”

Shadowheart squirms uncertainly. “Yes,” she mumbles. A pause. She fidgets with the ale bottle, turning it restlessly in her fingertips “He had a mother… and she’s dead now, but maybe she called him something, in some owlbear way… That’s important, right? It matters…” 

She swallows. There’s a subtle dampness around her eyes, flickering where the firelight catches it. “But maybe he likes Buddy. Because… because that’s what he’s called here. With his-- with his friends.” She flushes, her eyes flicking to Lae’zel and then rapidly away into the fire. “With people who love him now… that’s important too.”

“Perhaps,” Lae’zel agrees placidly. She shifts a little to one side so she can see Shadowheart more clearly, silhouetted by the flames rather than masked by them.

Shadowheart nods slowly. “It’s a good name,” she says, her voice lowering again until it’s almost inaudible. “He doesn’t have to be ashamed of it. Even if he had another…”

Lae’zel lets the silence stretch for a long time before she speaks again. “Who are you, fynh duj?” she asks, the rasp of her voice low and surprisingly gentle. “Who do you want to be?”

“Shadowheart,” Shadowheart whispers. “That’s my name. That’s who I am here, with you.”

[sparky-is-spiders]

Jonelias Week Day 1 (Which is definitely today I swear), for the prompt "No Powers AU"

This one... maybe got away from me. This is actually only the first half of what I've written so far, and probably the first third overall! I do plan to post this to Ao3 at some point (although I suspect I'll need to do a lengthy round of editing first lmao). It's some very self-indulgent nonsense, which is a lot of what I write, but now it's getting put in the main tags of a ship during said ship's event week. So. It may also be a little bit "aromantic dude tries to figure out what having a crush is supposed to be like." Also a lot of "dude who took Principals of Accounting once pretending it knows what office work is like." Anyway, quick warning before we begin, and the rest will be under the read-more:

Stalking (played for laughs) for most of the fic.

Just. A weird amount of obsession.

Ok that should be it I think. Fic under the cut.

Jon's new boss was, quite possibly, the most boring man in the world. He wore the same outfit every day (pale dress shirt with dark unpatterned tie and gray slacks and matching suit jacket). The only personal effect in his entire office was a potted plant on the windowsill (some sort of succulent, and definitely fake). He always arrived to work exactly half an hour early and left exactly half an hour late. The only hobby he appeared to show any interest in was scheduling, which he seemed to find both deeply engaging and remarkably irritating. In fact, he was apparently so opposed to the idea of mixing his work with his personal life that he might as well not have existed beyond the walls of their office. Jon had never been more fascinated by anyone else in his entire life.

It stared with the transfer to the accounting department. Elias had met with him personally to get him acclimated to his new role. He had been blandly polite, and blandly handsome, and Jon had stopped listening to him about five minutes into their conversation. It was probably bad form, really. The software Elias was droning on and on about sounded like it was about to become a central feature of his days. He really should've been paying attention to it. Instead, he pretended to make eye contact while zeroing in on the top of Bouchard's forehead (a very useful trick, really) and became inordinately focused on the small lock of hair that had fallen across it. It was terribly distracting, and Jon had wondered how he hadn't noticed it. And then he wondered how it had come to be there. And then he had built up an entire story involving a murder, an illicit affair with the assistant director of marketing, and the potted succulent. And then he had noticed Bouchard eying him with what could've been suspicion or amusement or irritation or nothing whatsoever, and had been forced to rapidly pretend to care about their company's bad debt expense policy. Bouchard had indulged him, and had spoken with the calm authority of someone who knew what they were talking about, and had even managed to avoid being overtly condescending (a feat forever out of Jon's reach). At the end he had shaken Jon's hand (with a nice, firm grip), and had told him "I'm looking forward to working with you, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful member of our team." Jon had left that meeting with a mind shrouded in a fog of boredom and a faint sensation of warmth which he decided was best attributed to curiosity and left otherwise unexamined. Over the next few weeks, Jon had tried to subtly inquire into Bouchard's life. At the time, he had been naively under the impression that surely he must have let slip something about his life; some odd quirk or funny story or harmless bit of information which could justify Jon's blooming curiosity. Unfortunately; "He lives in Chelsea, I'm pretty sure?" (Sasha) "He's currently in a meeting. Honestly Jon, you'll be better off just sending an email. Now can I please get back to work?" (Rosie, probably lying about the meeting) "He actually lives here in the office. Set up a cozy little home away from home in one of the storage closets and sneaks out at night to raid the canteen. And he's having an affair with the assistant director of marketing." (Tim, definitely lying (but maybe a mind reader? Also, full of brilliant ideas for places Jon could maybe set up a cot whenever he needs to stay overnight)) Clearly, Jon would have to take matters into his own hands if he wanted answers. That was fine. It could be his own private little research project.

Jon liked to think that the entire thing had actually been quite reasonable, and that he had acted within the bounds of their pre-established relationship as employee and supervisor. Surely any rational person had to realize that nobody could possibly be that uninteresting. Anyone would be curious as to what dark secrets Bouchard his behind his well-tailored suits and polite, professional demeanor. … perhaps most rational persons would not meticulously record the movements, behavior, and daily appearance of their colleague in a discreet notebook (with annotations, color-coding, and graphs where appropriate), but Jon had always prided himself on his dedication to research and understanding. So far Jon had collected frustratingly little data. If Bouchard was hiding anything, it wasn't apparent from his schedule (see pages 8-13, figure 2.b), his eating habits (see page 22), or his lone plant (see page five, figure 1.c). His breaks did seem specially timed to avoid other people (and he appeared not to engage in many social behaviors generally), but he never acted irritated or otherwise unhappy to encounter one of his subordinates, so Jon wasn't entirely sure if it was deliberate avoidance or simple coincidence. Really, the only truly odd thing about him was his inexplicable interest in Jon. That very morning, for example, Bouchard had stopped by his cubicle for a fifteen minute discussion on the upcoming Annual Team Luncheon, an event Jon had never attended before (due to an annual migraine which coincidentally always happened to occur on the exact date of the luncheon), which Jon did not plan to attend, and which honestly sounded like some sort of violation of the Geneva Convention. The topic itself was not especially odd (small talk was an archaic tradition which had stubbornly clung on in every workplace Jon had ever set foot in), but Bouchard's low propensity for inter-office socialization combined with the fact that he had both chosen Jon specifically as his conversational partner was… highly suspicious. Most people who encountered Jon inevitably concluded that he was more effort than he was worth (an attitude Jon mostly appreciated).

And of course, there had also been their interaction two days ago, when Elias had paused briefly to inquire as to whether Jon would be staying late, and what he was working on, and if he might perhaps consider heading home soon because there was only so much overtime they could pay him. Or on Friday, when he had managed to hold two separate conversations with Jon where very little was said. Honestly, Jon somewhat suspected that Elias had spoken to him more in the past few weeks than he had spoken to any of their colleagues for the entire time Jon had been there to observe him. Most of Jon's notes were now dedicated to their interactions. From his cot in the unused storage room (which was indeed a good place to stay overnight, thank you Tim), he could jot down everything he recalled about their interaction; it had begun at 8:32 and had concluded at 8:47; the weather was warm and slightly humid, although the office interior remained at a comfortable 21 °C. Bouchard's shirt had been a nice, cool gray, which complemented the silver of his eyes. Jon (who had been busy digging for his favorite pen (the ink was a lovely deep green color, and it was usually kept on the left side of the top desk drawer, and Jon had no idea where else it could have possibly gone)) had settled on "irritation" as his tone, which Bouchard either had not noticed or had not cared enough to acknowledge. He had easily dominated the conversation, and Jon could admit in the sanctity of his research journal that his voice had been soothing enough to cool away some of Jon's annoyance. He wrote his conclusion: Subject behaved near-identically in tone, posture, body language, and apparent mood as he has in all previous communications. Subject displayed no strong thoughts or opinions on subject of discussion nor conversational partner. Interaction was pleasant but slightly dull, no new information discovered. It was almost exactly the same as every previous conclusion. Jon had to admit, so many months with so little progress was… discouraging. He shifted on the narrow mattress and winced when his movements aggravated his backache (which was surely unrelated to his frequent occupancy of the cot). It was becoming more and more apparent that the only possible solution was to do some actual, direct investigation. His first idea (break into Bouchard's office) seemed a tad far (also, he didn't know how to pick locks). His second idea (follow him home) seemed a stretch further than the previous one, and was perhaps best saved as a last resort. His third idea (something something computers? (perhaps "idea" was a bit generous)) would almost certainly require Sasha, who would have questions Jon couldn't answer. He flipped idly through his notes, half-skimming, half-thinking. It was only when his gaze landed on figure 2.b, Weekly Schedule of E. Bouchard, that he actually came up with something reasonable. Something actionable.

[smilesrobotlover]

AO3

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Warning, this is a pretty dark one towards the end. A lil spooky if you will

Chapter 5- Something’s in Faron Woods

Zelda was exhausted. With the new problem of disappearances, her workload doubled. She was getting several letters from people claiming that they knew who was causing these disappearances, or people who claimed that they got caught and escaped. She was then dealing with the economy of Hyrule, then their relationship with Labrynna, then schoolwork for her daughter, and then trying to provide for the army. She’d barely gotten any sleep, but she supposed it would be fine. She’s had sleepless nights before, this would be no different.

She was eternally grateful for the resistance’s help, since she couldn’t do much on her own with the disappearances. She sent Ashei and Shad to help Hoz on his investigation, she requested Auru to ask around since he couldn’t do much in his old age, and she sent Rusl and Link to investigate Kakariko, knowing that Link’s wolf abilities would be useful. And she requested this all under her alter ego: Sheik.

She remembers when she first disguised herself as Sheik and went to help the resistance. They were dealing with straggling Bulblins who rebelled against their king. Sheik showed up to assist, and the resistance were rightfully distrusting towards her. It was difficult since Sheik wasn’t exactly a bubbly and kind person, but after a few years with her giving them correct information on situations, they started to trust her more, and she was grateful for that. It was nice doing more for Hyrule that she wouldn’t be able to do as queen, but it had made her twice as busy, and she almost had no time to do anything. Even spending time with her own daughter was severely limited, and even though she wished she could do more with her, she just didn’t have time. And she wasn’t willing to give some of her workload to Edmund.

They’d known each other since they were kids. her father was attempting to have an alliance with Labrynna and they saw each other often. They had a good enough relationship then, Edmund was very polite and kind, and even when they reunited he still was, but she couldn’t bring herself to trust him. He was never outwardly terrible, but she knew that if she gave him even an ounce of power, he would take it all and control Hyrule. She’d seen it with her father, she’d seen it with Zant, and she’d seen it with Ganondorf. All kings taking power from queens, why would Edmund be any different?

Despite her refusal to let him help her, she was exhausted, and sometimes she wished she could get help, but until she found more people she could trust, she would have to make do. Of course, it wasn’t easy to hide how she was feeling from everyone, and when she nearly fell asleep during a boring meeting, they all grew concerned for her well-being.

“My queen?” The representative for the Zora spoke up when she nearly fell over on the table, and she rubbed her face, sitting up straight.

“I’m alright,” she said quickly, and she glanced over at Edmund who stared at her with his brows pinched together.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine, just a little tired is all, we all get like that,” she waved their concerns away and looked down at the papers in front of her. She honestly didn’t remember what was being discussed, but she quickly skimmed over the details and caught up as much as she could. As soon as the meeting was over, she got up and left, with Edmund trailing behind her.

“Zelda?” He called out for her, and she groaned, turning around to look at him.

“Yes?”

Edmund let out a huff and put his hands on his hips. “What have you been doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. You look awful. You’re rarely eating, I hardly ever see you, and you’re never in bed when you’re supposed to be.”

“Maybe I don’t want to sleep with you,” she said coldly, but instantly regretted it. That was an inappropriate thing to say, and a hurt expression flickered across Edmund’s face. He looked away and ran a hand through his hair, frustration apparent in his face.

“Goddesses, Zelda. I— I didn’t want this arranged marriage either, but I’m trying to make it work for our kingdom’s sakes! It’s been ten years, why can’t you do the same?”

Zelda faced him fully and looked down, biting her lip. “I… I apologize for that comment, Edmund. It was rude of me.”

Edmund’s glare softened slightly. “So, what’s going on? Is it the disappearances?”

Zelda pursed her lips. “It’s fine Edmund–”

“No, it’s not fine. You’re clearly overworking yourself.”

Zelda turned away and let out a frustrated sigh, spotting the nobles and representatives getting closer to them. She grabbed Edmund’s arm and led him away to somewhere more private.

“It’s fine Edmund,” she reassured when they were tucked away in a corner, “these disappearances have been a lot of work to deal with, but it will pass. Besides, I have help from friends and Hoz to get to the bottom of this.”

Edmund stared at her for a moment, his brow pinched together. “Ok, so you have help,” he finally said after a moment of contemplation, “why don’t you let me handle the next meeting so you can… I don’t know… get some rest.”

Zelda’s heart spiked and she shook her head. “No, I do not need help.”

“Oh, so you’ll get help from Hoz and friends that I’ve never heard of before, but not from me, your husband?” Edmund’s voice raised a little, and Zelda sucked in a breath.

“It’s not your responsibility—“

“Yes it is! We’re supposed to have a partnership! We’re supposed to work together to keep our kingdom allies! That is why we got married! Why can’t you trust me?”

“Maybe it’s because you have no respect for my kingdom! Maybe it’s because you berate and criticize my people and my army! Why would I let someone who hates my kingdom try to rule it?” Zelda snapped. Edmund stared at her, surprised at her angry tone. She always spoke in a controlled tone, never letting her anger get the best of her since it was improper. Zelda took a deep breath and quickly composed herself, not wanting to escalate the conversation anymore. “Edmund, can we discuss this later? I have a meeting to attend to.”

“That’s what you say everytime I try to talk to you about it,” Edmund scoffed.

“Well I don’t have time.”

Edmund was about to say something, but he glanced up behind Zelda and his glare softened.

“Amber!” He greeted, and Zelda turned around to see her daughter walking towards them.

“Hello, mother and father,” she said when she walked up to them, her hands clasped in front of her. “I finished my studies and I wanted to catch you when the meeting ended!”

Edmund gave Zelda a look and he relaxed his posture. “Well, you caught us in time, my dear.”

Amber grinned at Edmund and gave a small curtsy to Zelda. Zelda nodded her head and forced a smile. The two stared at each other awkwardly, and Zelda looked down.

“I’m glad to see you, Amber,” she finally said, and forced another smile. “I take it your studies are going well?”

“Yes, mother.”

“Right…”

Zelda looked away and Edmund sighed.

“Why don’t you tell your mother what you’ve been studying, Amber?” He encouraged, and Amber’s eyes lit up. Zelda cringed internally, wanting so badly to stay and listen to her daughter, but she simply had no time…

“Well, I’ve been studying the founding of Hyrule, and I find it quite fascinating! I read that Hylians descended from the sky and made land here, creating alliances with the many species already living here. I just can’t imagine living in the sky! I heard that they flew on birds! Big birds that they would ride on and–”

“Amber,” Zelda cut in, forcing another smile, “I think it’s wonderful that you’re interested in history. I have a meeting I must attend, but you continue on with your studies.”

Amber’s expression fell which made Zelda’s heart twist in pain, and she looked down. “Of course, mother, sorry to keep you.”

Zelda couldn’t force another smile, and she simply walked away, trying to ignore the guilt creeping up on her. Goddesses she wanted to stay, she wanted to stay and to talk with her daughter. She wanted to ignore the meetings and to actually rest her eyes. But she couldn’t, there was too much to do, and she didn’t have the time.

Zelda couldn’t help but glance at the two when she turned the corner. Amber was still facing away, but Edmund was staring at her, and where she expected anger, there was nothing but sadness in his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Link watched the field around him carefully, sticking closer to Rusl this time around. Kori was no longer riding with him, and was inside the cart playing with his new toy, meanwhile Colin sat behind him on Epona. Talo was riding his own horse on the other side of the cart, grateful to no longer be alone on the trip back home. Link was also glad that they were with Talo as well, learning more about the strange disappearances have gotten him nervous. Rusl tried to make sense of it all, explaining how the scent probably got messed up, but Link supposed he couldn’t truly understand how bizarre the whole thing was. The scent wasn’t replaced, nor was it lost, it just vanished. The fact that he didn’t know why this was happening, or where to continue looking, chilled him to the bone, and he was anxious to get back to Ordon and out of the open field. Colin picked up on his nervous energy, and he rested his hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright, Link?” His younger brother asked, and Link shrugged.

“I dunno, I just don’t like the open field,” he answered simply.

“I heard you and pa were investigating some disappearances, anything going on with that?”

Link sighed. “I don’t know, I tried to follow the missing people’s scent and I found nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Absolutely nothing. The scent just ends. Pa thinks that the scent was replaced or lost but… I honestly don’t think that’s the case,” he ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a breath.

“What do you think the case is?”

“I’m not sure, the only explanation is that the people got taken to… a different world or something,” Link felt the heat creep up to his cheeks as he said it outloud. The idea of different worlds wasn’t far-fetched to him, the temple of time literally took him through time to when the temple stood tall and proud, and the twilight realm was a world he could never forget. But to get to these places were nearly impossible, especially the twilight realm, so the idea that these people somehow getting taken to anywhere like that was ridiculous to him. Colin only hummed.

“You sure they’re not dead?”

“I’m sure Colin, I would’ve smelled it. Once we get home I’m gonna try to look further into it.” By the goddesses he was not going to let something like this continue. He was the hero for Din’s sake, he still had a responsibility to Hyrule. Link glanced over at the carriage to see Kori and Rela poking their heads out from the carriage, smiling at the nature in front of them. A protective feeling surrounded him as he watched them. He was going to make sure that his family, especially Kori, were never going to experience a dangerous Hyrule ever again.

They reached Ordon when the sun began to set, and everyone let out a sigh of relief as they got off their steeds or out of the cart.

“By the goddesses, it’s nice not being attacked every five seconds in the field,” Talo commented, stretching his arms after he got off his horse. Beth and Colin cheered in response as Link led Epona to his home, patting her neck and giving her a treat. Kori ran up to him and patted Epona’s snout.

“Thanks for getting us here, girl!” He said, and Epona lowered her head to nuzzle his chest, which Kori giggled at. Link smiled at the two and left them alone together as he went to help Rusl with unloading the cart. The kids stayed back talking and playing with the horses while Link and Rusl went to their home. When they opened the door, Uli set down her sewing project from the couch and met them at the door in seconds.

“You’re home!” She cheered, and gave Rusl and Link a hug. Rusl chuckled and pecked her on the lips.

“Hello, darlin’,” he said when he pulled away, and the two smiled at each other for a moment.

“How was it? How’s Renado?” She asked as they pulled away to put their stuff down.

“It was fine,” Link answered, plopping down on the couch. “Renado seems pretty overwhelmed, but otherwise it was ok.”

“What did Kori get?”

“A stuffed cat he named Jasper,” Link answered, stretching his arms above his head. Uli tilted her head and crossed her arms.

“A stuffed cat? If I had known that he wanted a stuffed cat, I would’ve made him one!”

“Yeah, kids are weird like that,” Link said with a chuckle, rubbing his eyes. “The moment they see somethin’ they want at the store, they ask for it even though you can make it at home.”

“It’s more special from a shop!” Rusl chimed in, leaning near the fireplace. Uli raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Are you saying that if I made it, it wouldn’t be special?”

Rusl’s eyes went big and he turned away. “Of course not… that’s… you know what I meant!”

Uli gave a quick laugh. “I know what you meant darlin’, I’m just messing with you.” Rusl glared at her and she simply giggled teasingly at him. She turned to Link and her teasing manner dropped slightly. “Well, I heard you two were investigating some…. Disappearances,” she started, “were you able to find anything?”

Link looked at Rusl and shrugged. “Not really.”

“We didn���t find anything useful at least,” Rusl added quietly. Uli frowned.

“Are you going to continue investigating?”

“Well, I kinda have to. Kori wants everyone to return home safely for his birthday,” Link said with a small smile on his lips. Uli grinned and ruffled his hair.

“He’s a sweet boy. He reminds me of a certain someone.”

Link looked down bashfully and rolled his eyes as Uli began to dote on him. Kori was a sweet boy. So gentle and kind, despite being a little mischievous at times. He couldn’t take all the credit for it of course, or really any of it. Midna raised him by herself for his first two years of life, and even though she's not with them all the time, she’s impacted his life in more ways than one. Goddesses he missed her. He wanted to tell her everything about Kakariko, he wanted her advice, her comments, her support. He just wanted her here…

Uli clasped her hands together and sighed after a moment of silence. “Well, where are the kids?”

“Dealin’ with the horses. I think they’re a little stir crazy.”

Uli smiled and gestured at the fireplace. “I have some soup cooking if you wanna drag our little ones over here?”

The smell of the soup cooking above the fireplace hit his nostrils, and he wiped some drool that suddenly appeared on his chin. Uli let out a hearty laugh and ruffled his hair.

“I’ll go get them ma,” Link chuckled, slightly embarrassed, and jogged out the door to find Colin, Rela, and Kori.

The three were excited for the hot dinner when Link told them, and they quickly put their things away as the sun set behind the horizon. Kori wasted no time showing Jasper the cat to Uli, explaining the complex backstory he gave to the plush, and how it connected to Billy the goat’s backstory. Uli listened intently, and Link let out a laugh. He always talked her ear off, but she always listened. Link wondered if he was the same way when he was younger.

“So, I take it Midna didn’t go with you?” Uli asked when Kori finished his story. Link shook his head.

“No, she had other stuff she needed to do back home.”

“What does she do anyways?” Colin asked, his spoon full of soup inches away from his mouth. Link shrugged.

“Stuff.”

“You always say that,” he said, sipping the soup from the spoon. Link shrugged again.

“Y’all weren’t supposed to know about her existence anyways. If she wants to tell you what she does, then she will. It’s not my business to tell you.”

“Fair ‘nough.”

“Well,” Uli started, standing up, “I already ate, but I can dish up some food for the rest of you.”

“Nah, I got two strong arms, I can do it myself,” Rusl said with a smile, grabbing a bowl and hunching over the pot.

“Nonsense! You’ve been traveling all day,” Uli began to argue, and the couple began to fight over the soup. Colin and Link exchanged a look and smirked as Kori and Rela jogged over to the fireplace, trying to break up the battle for service between the two lovers. When Uli finally admitted defeat, Link got up to the pot to serve himself and Kori, smiling at his ma who returned to her sewing project. But as he began to walk across the room, he stopped, his ears twitching. There was a sound, it was distant, and out in the woods, but as it got closer, the sound became more apparent.

Screaming.

Soon it got loud enough for Uli to hear it too, and they both looked at each other in fear. Kori stared at the two, hearing it as well.

“What is that?” He asked, and the whole family grew quiet, hearing the sudden screaming. Rusl got up, grabbing his sword and gestured for Link to follow him.

“Stay here,” Rusl said to Colin and Uli, who were about to follow him. Uli walked towards the kids while Colin reluctantly stayed by the doorway, and the two swordsmen marched out of the house. As they got closer, Link was able to spot three figures huddled together. He recognized mayor Bo’s large frame next to Jaggle, who was consoling a hysterical Coro. Bo looked up as the two men got closer, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank the spirits,” he said, stepping away. “I was just about to come and get you two.”

“What’s happenin’ here?” Rusl asked, staring at Coro who looked to be a mess. “Why were you screaming?”

Coro raised his head and stared at the two. “S-something’s out in the woods!” His voice shook as he said it, and he was shaking in fear.

Link frowned, feeling dread and fear creep up on him. “What was it?”

“I– I don’t know! I don’t know!”

Rusl rested a hand on Coro’s shoulder and kneeled down. “Take some deep breaths for me, ok? Think about what you saw and try to explain it to us.”

Coro swallowed and took a deep breath. “Ok, you are all gonna think that I’m insane, but I promise I’m not! I know these woods, I’ve seen all sorts of plants and animals! But I was putting my things away f-for the night, and I heard somethin’ behind me and… I saw a black creature staring at me!” Coro wailed and buried his face in his hands, and Rusl gave Link a look. “It tried to kill me! I swear!”

“Did you have a light to see this… black creature?” Jaggle asked skeptically, and Coro gave him a glare.

“I didn’t hallucinate it if that’s what you’re implying! Trill saw it too!”

As if on cue, Coro’s bird, Trill poked out from his hair, staring at the men. Link expected him to begin chatting, but he was uncharacteristically silent as the men observed the bird.

“Can you… Uh… describe the creature again?” Jaggle asked, and Coro let out a frustrated huff.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but it was a big, black creature with long arms! It almost swiped at me but I didn’t wait around! I thought something was off about the forest, Trill came to me a few days before talking about a bear, so I-I thought that he just got spooked! There hasn’t been a bear in these parts in ages so I assumed he saw a wolf! There’s been wolves around here right? But this wasn’t a bear, I don’t know what it was but it was no bear!”

Rusl, Jaggle, and Link all glanced at each other as Coro continued to ramble, and Rusl scratched the back of his head. “Sounds like you had a scare, Coro. But let’s think about this, it could’ve been a tree or something. They look scary at night, right?”

“Trees don’t try to swipe at you!” Coro yelled.

Jaggle glanced at Rusl and sighed. “You can stay with us if it makes you feel safe, we’ll be sure that the gate is locked extra tight, but–”

“No! You need to find that thing, now!” Coro grabbed Rusl and shook him slightly. “A gate won’t stop it if it found us! It’s too big! Don’t you remember what happened ten years ago? When a green monster burst through the gates and stole all the kids?”

Rusl’s expression grew dark, and Jaggle pulled Coro away.

“Now you need to calm down!” He yelled. “It’s gettin’ late, and it’s too dangerous to go out at night, we’ll hunt down whatever it was you saw tomorrow—“

“Jaggle,” Mayor Bo interrupted him, staring at the entrance, “perhaps we should find whatever Coro saw.”

“What? Bo are you crazy?”

“I don’t want anything attacking us at night when we’re most vulnerable,” Bo explained, his hands raised defensively. “We at least need to be prepared for something!”

Jaggle opened his mouth to say something but Rusl stepped up. “He’s right, it’s not dark yet, me and Link will check it out, the rest of you will make sure nothing happens to Ordon.” Link looked at his father in shock, but he avoided his gaze. “We’ll find whatever scared you, I don’t want anything to attack us at night either.”

Coro looked relieved and nodded. “Thanks, sorry to bother you folks–”

“It’s fine,” Rusl waved his apology away, “me and Link will investigate, Colin, Talon, and Beth will look after the village in the meantime, if it ain’t a bother.”

Jaggle let out a loud sigh and shrugged. “Don’t think Talo would be bothered at all.”

“Good. There’s still some sun left, once it gets too dark, me and Link will return, ok?”

Jaggle seemed more comfortable with that and nodded. Rusl nodded back and turned to head back to the house, with Link reluctantly following.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, pa?” Link asked softly as Bo led Coro to his home. “We don’t have a lot of time before it gets too dark.”

“We’ll be fine, Link. I take it it’s nothin’ serious,” Rusl said, but he didn’t seem too confident in his own words. “Besides, if something is out there, I don’t want– I don’t want another attack on Ordon.” Rusl’s voice grew quiet, but he didn’t turn to look at Link.

Link pursed his lips, but said nothing. When the two reached the house, Rusl quickly explained the situation to Uli and Colin. Uli protested against it while Colin grabbed a sword, determined to protect the village. With enough reassurance that they were going to be ok, the two bid their farewells, collected their swords and torches, and headed into the woods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The forest was quiet save for the rustling of the leaves as they blew through the wind. The moon was full, which thankfully gave him and Rusl more light to work with. The sky was a deep purple, making the forest much darker than what Link would like. Sure there was some sunlight, but it wasn’t enough to investigate. It was uncomfortably silent between Link and Rusl, both listening intently to whatever could be out here. Link’s eyes were darting back and forth, his heart beating against his chest as they got closer to Coro’s house. He’s never liked the dark, but after the twilight invasion, he’s grown to hate it. Anything could be hiding in the shadows, watching him and his father as they walked by. It made his hair stand on its ends. Rusl seemed to be more relaxed than him though, a determined look on his face as he observed the trees illuminated by his torch and moon. When they reached Coro’s house, Link lowered his breathing to hear whatever it was Coro saw. His sword was raised in front of him while Rusl looked around the house. The silence was deafening, and the night air sent a chill up Link’s spine. He studied the ground around the house for a moment before looking at Rusl, who put a hand on his hip and sighed.

“Do you see anything?” He asked, and Link shook his head.

“I haven’t seen anything unusual, but something isn’t right.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I—I don’t know, something in the air isn’t right.” Link pursed his lips as he watched the trees around them. There was a good chance that he was just spooked, but the feeling of dread wouldn’t leave him. Rusl clicked his tongue as his head turned behind him.

“What do you think Coro saw?”

Link shrugged. If it was anyone else he wouldn’t be so worried, but it was Coro that got scared. He wasn’t scared of anything. Even when he saw Link as a wolf he seemed calm, even when monsters were right outside his home he didn’t care much. The only time Link has seen Coro frightened was during the twilight invasion, when shadow insects were crawling all over his home. A sinking feeling rested within his stomach as he thought about the missing people, but he shook his head. There was no way that there was another twilight invasion. The only Twili that were left in the world was Midna, and how she was able to be in this world was a mystery to him. No, it had to be an animal or a tree or something. Coro wasn’t afraid of anything, but everyone gets spooked every now and then.

“He probably saw a bear,” Rusl said softly, his brows pinched together.

“If it was a bear, then we should head back and hunt it tomorrow. It’s too dangerous to be out here at night.” Bears were rare in Ordon, but they showed up occasionally, and Link had heard too many horror stories from Rusl about them that he knew that they were a serious threat. But regardless, the idea of Coro seeing a bear scared Link less than any alternative. Rusl pursed his lips and stared at the ground.

“I’m not seeing any footprints though,” he muttered, kneeling on the ground and tracing his hand across the ground.

Link looked over his shoulder, the sudden feeling of dread overwhelming him as he stared at the darkness. Something was out in Faron woods, something dark and evil.

“Pa, we should go,” he said, trying to keep his voice from quivering. “We can lock the gates and look for it tomorrow, but we’re at a disadvantage here.”

“I know, Link. But it’s not too dark yet.”

“It’s dark enough for this to be dangerous!”

Rusl stared at the ground blankly for a moment, before looking up at Link. “You think he saw something out in these woods?” Rusl asked, and Link tilted his head.

“You don’t believe him?”

“I-I’m not sure. I’m not seein’ any footprints or anything around here. Nothing was by his house, I think he saw the shadow of a tree or something, but… I don’t want to take any chances.”

Link frowned as Rusl went back to staring at the ground. He didn’t want to risk a potentially dangerous monster attacking Ordon either, but Link knew that they wouldn’t last against a black creature at night. He looked behind him at the entrance to Ordon, shifting his feet nervously as he felt eyes on him from all sides. Rusl picked up on his nervous energy, and he stood up, eyeing the house.

“I’m just gonna look around some more, then we’ll head back, ok?”

Link nodded and watched as his father marched to Coro’s home. He lingered near the trees, watching them intently as if something would grab him. It was silent for too long, and he occasionally glanced over his shoulder to check on his pa, who was barely visible from the torch he was carrying. It was getting too dark, his patience was wearing thin, and his anxiety gnawed at his insides. He couldn’t wait out here any longer, they needed to head back now.

A snap of a twig caused Link to jump ten feet in the air, and he had his sword drawn out defensively in front of him as he glared at the darkness in front of him. His heart beat furiously against his chest as he strained his eyes to see what was lurking in the dark.

Was it a monster? A bulblin? A lost traveler? Several possibilities ran through his head as he searched the woods in front of him, fear nearly paralyzing him so much he couldn’t even speak. Another sound was heard, along with rustling, and something dark emerged into the light Link’s lantern emitted. Link jumped, yelling out as soon as he saw it, and when it was fully in the light, Link saw that the creature that spooked him so badly was a fuzzy rabbit, staring at him as its nose twitched. Link stared in shock, his breathing quick and his heart beating a mile a minute.

“Link?” Rusl called out worriedly, and Link heard his pa jogging towards him.

“I—it’s— a r—“ Link let out a sigh of relief as the rabbit hopped away, and he started giggling. Loud.

“Uh, Link?” Rusl sounded much more concerned as Link doubled over laughing.

“I—it’s a rabbit— a rabbit,” Link wheezed out between giggles, and Rusl raised an eyebrow.

“Ok…?” Rusl gave him one more look before returning to the house, his head shaking in confusion. Link let out a breath and stared at the ground lit up by his lantern, feeling slightly more relaxed. He picked up his lantern and stood up, but as he got on his feet, the light moved further into the darkness, and that was when he saw it.

A black hand, clearly human shaped, standing out in the lit up grass. It quickly disappeared into the darkness, but Link was able to see it. He felt his blood run cold as he shot up, his sword shaking in his trembling hands, the relief gone in an instant. Did he imagine that?

The feeling of dread began to overwhelm him, and he spun around to his father.

“Pa—“ he was interrupted by a familiar shriek. A shriek that paralyzed him to the bone. His body trembled as his heart beat so hard against his chest it felt as though it would burst. His senses were clouded, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear, he couldn’t feel. All he knew was fear. Until the strong paralysis went away.

Link gasped as he was able to move again. His head felt light, his heart continued to race, but he felt conscious again. He looked around, shocked that he himself was left untouched. His lantern was left on the ground, standing upright, still emitting light enough for Link to see. The sky was black now, the moon emitting barely enough light for Link to see beyond the lantern. He shakily picked it up and looked around him, his heart sinking into his stomach as realization hit him.

Rusl.

The other light that came from Rusl’s torch was put out, and Link’s father was nowhere to be seen.

“P-pa?” Link called out weakly, tears pricking at his eyes when he was met with silence. He ran to Coro’s house and searched the ground, but there was no sign of Rusl, all except his torch which was laying on the ground. Link wasted no time turning into a wolf and sniffing the torch, but he was only met with the eye watering scent of smoke and fire. Goddesses, how could he find him?

Link noticed some scuff marks on the ground, and he saw the footprints. They weren’t human, there were no toes and they were much too small, but he knew that whatever they belonged to, it was what took Rusl. Link took off running, using his wolf senses to see in the dark. The footprints went into the dark caves, and Link plowed through, luckily remembering where to go from traveling through them hundreds of times. He ignored the rats and keese that tried to hurt him, and he emerged from the other side. At the end of the cave, Link spotted something glimmering in the moonlight. Rusl’s sword. Thank the spirits.

With no smoke to cloud his senses, Link was able to pick up on Rusl’s sent. It led deeper into Faron woods, through the thick trees that used to hold poisonous gas. Link sprinted through, the feeling of deja vu of hunting down the missing tailor and Goron making him more and more anxious.

Please don’t be too late.

Link was so focused on running that he barely noticed that he actually passed the scent, and he skidded to a stop, spinning to where the scent stopped. The scent didn’t seem to end abruptly the same way the tailor and goron’s did thankfully, but the feeling of dread kept any feeling of relief shining through. The creature was here, and it was watching him.

Link growled at the darkness in front of him, and he heard something shuffling. A dark mass silhouetted by the moon revealed itself, growing more and more until it stood up straight, and Link felt his heart drop.

It was a shadow beast, but it was different. Its skin was black as the night, blending into the dark trees around it, all except the red Twili mark on its chest. Black tendrils jutted out of its body, mostly from its head. Two arms were laid awkwardly on its back, instead of a mask there was a mouth that snarled at him with yellow teeth, and it was huge. Bigger than any shadow beast Link had seen. How…?

The creature snarled and rested on its two front arms, the arms on its back hanging menacingly. Link’s growl got more low, his fear replaced by fury. This thing did something to Rusl, and he was going to make it pay.

A hand suddenly swiped at his side, and Link was barely able to move before it hit him. He barked and jumped at the beast, biting into its shoulder as hard as he could. The beast shrieked and threw Link off of it, slamming him into a tree. Link sucked in a breath, scrambling to his feet as his back ached from the impact. He shook his head and snarled at the beast. It snarled back. He moved back and forth, trying to figure out where to begin on fighting this thing. If it was similar to a shadow beast, then fighting it shouldn’t be too difficult.

Link charged at it again, sinking his teeth into the shoulder of the beast. It let out a cry, but Link continued biting, ripping it apart with his claws and fangs. Eventually he was thrown off again, but before the beast had time to recover, Link jumped at it again, this time aiming for the stomach. Link went much deeper into the soft flesh of the torso, and he was able to rip a good chunk of it out. The creature shrieked in pain as it slammed its fist down onto Link, but he dodged just in time. The beast hunched over, holding its stomach in pain as black goo fell out. Though this creature was much bigger and stronger than a shadow beast, it was simply too easy to fight.

Link went to charge again but the beast made a strange noise that stopped him in his tracks. It stayed on all fours, hunched over, gagging. Link could only watch as it gagged, his confusion holding him in place. He only came back to reality when the beast began to vomit, and soon he saw a hand flailing around from its mouth. Rusl!

Link quickly turned back into a Hylian, reaching out for the hand. He felt relief when Rusl’s hand quickly gripped to his own, meaning that Rusl was still alive and conscious, and Link pulled with all his might. The beast remained still as Rusl was slowly pulled out, and Link’s father let out a gasp as his face emerged from the mouth.

“Pa!” Link yelled out, and Rusl struggled to pull his other arm free from the throat of the beast. His face was covered in the black goo that poured out of its stomach, covering his eyes and hair. As Link pulled him out more, he noticed the teeth of the beast ripping up his clothes, but he didn’t stop pulling.

Rusl’s other arm was pulled free, and it flailed towards Link’s arm, and he weakly hung on as he was pulled out the rest of the way. But just as he was free, the beast suddenly bit down on Rusl’s leg, and Link gasped as Rusl’s grip went limp and he was pulled away from him.

“PA!” Link screamed as he was dragged away, and the beast snarled at him, leering over Rusl as if he was its prize. It scooped up his pa in one of the hands on its back and it took off running, deeper into the woods. Link cursed under his breath and turned into a wolf again, ignoring the pain that shot through as he transformed. He took off running, following the beast through a gate to where Coro’s bird’s shop was. Link pumped his canine legs, and was able to catch up to the beast and Rusl. When he was close enough, he bit down on its leg, attempting to drag it to the ground. The creature shrieked and spun around, ripping its leg from Link’s mouth. The beast snarled at him as Rusl hung limply in its hand, blood and black goo dripping down his feet and hair. Link barked at him, but he didn’t move. The beast backed away from Link as he tried to wake his pa up, its back arching like an agitated cat as it growled at him.

Link made sure he was merciless this time around. He attacked relentlessly, aiming for the arms resting on its back, trying to get it to drop Rusl, but its grip was tight around his father, so it never let him go no matter how hard Link bit into its arms. The beast smacked Link a few times as he attacked the arms, but he fought through the pain, fiercely biting and scratching the beast. Link had severely underestimated this creature, with it not giving out anytime soon. Shadow beasts normally would die after having their throats ripped out or being clawed to death, but it seemed that this thing was invincible. He didn’t know why, but it was stronger than any Twili creature he’s ever fought.

Link was smacked against a tree again, and he staggered slightly as he got on his feet. He was growing exhausted, he felt like he was doing the same thing over and over again to no avail. Though he’d just ripped part of its stomach out, it didn’t seem to be bothered by it. What was this thing?

The creature snarled at him again, having a more confident pose as it faced Link, and all he could do was growl at the thing. He didn’t care what happened to him, he just needed to make sure Rusl was safe. The beast charged at him, and Link braced himself, but it suddenly stopped, shrinking back into the shadows, making strange noises that sounded like pain. It looked up at the sky and to Link’s surprise, it dropped Rusl and sprinted away, leaving Link alone with his father. He quickly turned back into a Hylian, staggering at the sharp pain in his back, but he stood up, pulling out his sword. He ran to Rusl, standing over his father protectively in case it returned, but it did not.

Why did the thing run away? It was winning, it wouldn’t have dropped Rusl like that. The sun rising in the sky answered Link’s question, and soon the forest was lit up. Relief swept over him as he was able to see, and he knew he was safe. For now at least. It seemed that the—Twili beast— hated the light.

Link relaxed and put his sword away, exhaustion beginning to overwhelm him, but he couldn’t rest, not yet. He looked at his father who was still unconscious, and he turned him over. His entire body was covered in black goo, and some of it mixed in with blood from small cuts on his skin, possibly from the creature’s teeth. His leg looked the worst, with a bite mark circling around his calf and shin. It had stopped bleeding it seemed, but dried blood mixed with black goo made it look much worse. Rusl was breathing, though it was shallow and sounded wrong. Link hoped that his ribs weren’t bruised or broken, he wondered how tight that thing held onto him. Link took a deep breath and shook him gently, brushing his clumpy hair out of his eyes.

“P-pa?” He whispered, shaking him a little harder. Rusl seemed to be reacting to being shaken, so Link tried harder. He needed medical attention, and his mind thought of the spirit springs. He remembered fairies appeared at each one after he faced a trial from the great fairy, he wondered if they were still there. “Pa,” he repeated, a little louder. Rusl’s blue eyes began to flutter open, and he stared at Link confused.

“L-Link?” He croaked.

Link smiled a relieved smile and started to help him to his feet, but Rusl stopped him quickly, hissing in pain as he held his side.

“Somethings wrong,” he rasped, sinking into the ground. Link frowned and looked him over. His ribs must’ve been broken.

“C’mon, pa. We gotta get to the spring. You’ll feel better.”

Rusl stared at him, wheezing and holding his side painfully, but he didn’t stop Link from helping him to his feet. Rusl leaned heavily on Link’s side, and the two slowly walked to the spring. It felt like hours until they finally made it, at some point Link had to pick up his pa to carry him the rest of the way, despite his protests. He set him down in the spring water, immediately feeling comfort in the warm water. Rusl let out a sigh of relief as he rested in the water, but the relief melted into panic as he looked at himself.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Link asked, calming down his father.

“‘Don’t want to dirty the spring.”

“You’re not gonna dirty the spring, the spirit’s light keeps it clean,” at least he assumed, the water never seemed to get dirty no matter what was put in it. Rusl relaxed again and stared at himself, his brows furrowed. Link began washing the goo and blood off of himself, helping Rusl occasionally. Rusl was uncomfortably silent while the two cleaned themselves off, and Link wanted to bring up what had happened, but he couldn’t bring himself to talk about it either. After Link finished washing out his wounds, he stood up, limping towards the bushes to see if any fairies were hiding. Luckily he found two and he returned with them both, noticing Rusl staring at him with his brows furrowed.

“Some fairies,” Link said, handing them both to him.

Rusl silently opened his palm where one fluttered onto his hand, and it healed up his bleeding leg and bruised ribs. He let out a sigh of relief and stared at Link who still held the other one.

“You need another one, pa,” Link pressed, but Rusl shook his head.

“You’re hurt too.”

“Not as bad as you.”

“I don’t care, my leg is healed, you use it.”

Link was taken aback at his intense tone, but he was too tired to fight back. He held the fairy gently in his hand and it floated around him, healing up his aching back. It rested on his head when it finished healing him, and Link let out a sigh of relief. Fairies were wonderful creatures.

The two sat in silence, staring at the crystal blue water they were in, soaking in the sun as it rose higher and higher in the sky. It didn’t feel like they were gone all night, but with Link’s tired body, he supposed it made sense.

“Link,” Rusl broke the silence, continuing to stare blankly at the water. “We need to tell the resistance about this as soon as possible.” Link stared at him for a moment, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Rusl continued. “That… thing… it has to be responsible for the disappearances. We need to tell them about this.”

Link nodded. “We oughta tell them when we all meet up then—“

“I’m not waiting until the date Sheik set, we need to tell them now.”

Link stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, ok, I agree. I’ll send a letter, then we can move out tomorrow.”

“Link—“

“We move out tomorrow, pa. We need rest though, we’ve been up all night. Besides, we gotta tell the folks around Ordon to stay away from Faron at night, ok?”

Rusl glared at him for a moment, but it softened when he had no rebuttal. “Yeah, ok. We need rest.”

Link nodded. He was no stranger to staying up all night, but as he’s gotten older, it’s been much harder to deal with. He stood up, his legs feeling weak as he walked around, and Rusl followed, being careful on his newly healed leg. Link stared at his leg for a moment, then faced him.

“Are… are you alright?”

Rusl stopped walking and looked up at him. “I’m… fine. Thanks to you. Are you ok?”

Link pursed his lips and nodded. “I’ll be fine, pa.”

Rusl’s gaze softened and he wrapped his arm around Link’s shoulder. “Let’s head back then. I bet everyone is worried sick.”

[lightbulb-warning]

so has anyone figured out WHY there is the Need To Share our Artworks™ or is it just the vibes and our Soul apparently

[clowningaroundmars]

Hobie1610 pt. 3

part 3 has finally arrived!!! at a faster rate than part 2 but a bit of a wait nonetheless lol

not entirely sure how long this lil story will go on for but hope y'all are enjoying this ride regardless, whether it ends on the next part or in 3 more chapters ldfjkdhf

in this installment: thrilling action, a high stakes chase, and we get to learn more abt our beloved hobie jones! yippee!

>pt. 1 here<

>pt. 2 here<

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

By some miracle, Hobie did not mention the suit to Miles once they started texting semi-regularly.

Unfortunately, they also couldn't really make their lunch date (date? God, get it together, Morales. It is not a date…) as soon as Miles would have liked, due to a million different things getting in the way of them setting a solid day aside to chill together.

Just his luck, of course.

But in the hallways, Hobie actually deigned to give Miles a passing smile every now and then. They didn’t ever get to hang out like they did for those precious few moments on the first day of school, but Miles didn’t feel the crushing weight of guilt every time he saw Hobie in his same classroom anymore. What a relief!

So Miles was mostly okay with how things were going anyhow, even if the hangout ended up falling through and they both decided not to go in the end. He was able to patrol and do his homework in blissful peace for the first time in months.

… Kind of.

That look on Hobie’s handsome face as he looked down past Miles’ coat collar though…

That still ate away at an anxious part of Miles’ brain whenever he had the time to sit down and really let his worries manifest.

No time to think about that now, though. Miles was suited up again on a school night, hoping to get at least an hour’s worth of patrolling in before security at Visions noticed he was absent from his dorm room. He hoped Ganke would be able to cover for him like he always did.

It was yet another cold evening out in New York City, and Miles was steadily covering the edges of Brooklyn, heading towards Manhattan to do a quick sweep through Central Park like he did on occasion. There was always something going on in Manhattan, especially during the evening.

Miles decided it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick peek before calling it a night and heading back to Visions.

So away he went-- now fully in his Spiderman element-- vaulting and soaring over buildings, showing off every now and then by doing silly flips and tricks mid-air for the opportunistic New Yorkers looking to snap their Spiderman Sighting of the day. A little social media promo never hurt anyone, after all…

Spiderman finally swung down onto a tree branch on the western side of the park from a street lamp and was just about to lower himself down as inconspicuously as he could, before immediately feeling the tingling electricity of his Spider Senses race up and down his spine, giving him the usual headache along with it.

He crouched down quietly on a branch and watched as a familiar lanky figure streaked across the path underneath him onto the grass and beyond.

Whoever this runner was, he was fast. And hot on his trail was a gang of burly bumbling assholes cursing up a blue streak as they gave chase.

Spiderman’s eyes stayed glued to the fast runner like they were a lifeline. His senses honed in on the person and he erupted out of the leaves of the tree with one mighty leap, sailing through the air to shoot a web out and swing his way on over to the excitement.

Several joggers, people walking dogs after work, and mothers with baby carriages exclaimed and shouted as they were barreled into by the gang of men trying to keep up with their moving target. The runner didn’t seem to be giving up, though, as their long legs sent them flying over bushes and rocks and lounging people as gracefully as a ribbon in the air.

It was indeed getting dark soon again, but the darkness didn’t really affect Spiderman’s senses at all. His mask helped him fine-tune his powerful vision and anticipate the runner’s next moves.

It looked as though they were trying to make their way up towards the Great Lawn from Cedar Hill, but whether the person was planning to make a break for the now-empty Delacorte Theatre or the Metropolitan Museum Of Art… or beyond? That was the million dollar question.

Spiderman didn’t want to lose the person in case they happened to just be a petty thief, since that would be a quick and easy problem to fix. But as he silently chased down the runner alongside (and unbeknownst) to the gang, his suspicions gave way to some other... ideas.

Namely, that the runner seemed young, a bit too young for someone to be pissing off this many fully-grown gang members.

He pushed through his confusion and made a break for the theatre the second he guessed that the runner was pivoting in that direction.

The trees were getting thicker the closer they got to the Belvedere Castle and Spiderman eventually resorted himself to hoofing it, mindful of sticking to the shadows of the foliage that surrounded them on all sides.

He was super grateful now more than ever that his suit happened to be his signature sleek black and red, rather than the tacky and hyper-visible reds and blues of many of his Spider counterparts (sorry Peter!)

Once he confirmed that the suspicious target was indeed planning on hiding in the bleachers of the massive amphitheatre, he shot up a web to hoist himself into the infrastructure from the tall stadium lights. From there, he positioned himself a bit closer to the fray, hearing the loud and heavy boots of the gang following the runner, not far behind.

Then, he squinted into the dusk as he watched one of the entrances from his perch up high... and almost choked on his own saliva!

In comes none other than Hobie Motherfucking Jones, streaking down several steps like a shooting star, clutching onto… something tucked under one of his arms. He was breathless, panting loudly, and heading straight for the Belvedere Lake.

Upon hearing the heavy bootfalls get ever closer with every passing second, it seemed that Hobie got the idea to attempt a last-minute juke by throwing himself underneath the stairs that faced the lake, tucking himself as tightly as he could under the massive stage at the center.

Spiderman watched all of this happening with wide eyes, holding his own breath in. He prayed that the ugly thugs didn’t see Hobie’s sneaky last-second move, but climbed up high onto the stadium lights and prepared to swing down anyhow, just in case.

What was Hobie even doing here, out at this hour? And what the hell did he manage to steal that was so important to these men anyways? It was quite a chase they were caught up in, running nearly two entire miles all the way up to the amphitheatre just to catch him, and that was only from what he could see when he swung into action.

The group split up and pulled out flashlights, determinedly searching the bleachers and corners as best they could while the sky rapidly darkened above them.

From right below the webbed crime-fighter, Hobie poked his head out from the shadows and took a peek.

No, no, duck back down! Spiderman wanted to shout, but he couldn’t.

No one knew he had followed them and he was safe high above the action where he balanced himself on the metal bars that housed the bulbs. His muscles tensed as the bright beam of light from one guy’s flashlight swept a little too close to Hobie’s head. Damnit.

Spiderman couldn’t just sit there all day! He had a friend to save, stolen item be damned!

He rechecked his web shooters furtively and took aim.

He set his sights on another stadium light pole across from the stage, figuring that if he was quick and agile enough, he could time his swing well enough to scoop Hobie up from where he was hidden and avoid any detection. Hopefully.

Seemed like a solid enough plan though, until Hobie just. Shot out from his hiding place all of a sudden, the heels of his boots rapping loudly against the cement and echoing all around the stage as he made a beeline for the lakefront.

Shit!!!

Miles wanted to kill him. Those guys didn’t even suspect he was hiding where we was in the first place!

... Okay, plan B!

Spiderman’s brain whirred at breakneck speeds as he watched the thugs exclaim loudly and give chase yet again, this time much closer to Hobie than they ever were before.

Without thinking, he swung down from his perch and bowled over a couple of men in his haste to simply just… grab Hobie like a damsel in distress and fireman-carry him back around the gang to get a good line of web onto a nearby pole.

The men all cursed and shouted in surprise of course, flashlight beams waving around everywhere.

One of them even yelled, “what the hell was that?!” like a character in one of his dad’s favorite cheesy slasher movies.

Spiderman was too fast for them, a black blur simply whizzing by as he grabbed Hobie and hoisted the both of them up into the air with a mighty leap. Hobie yelped in surprise, grunting from the effort, and seemed to let whatever he stole slip out of his hands which then clattered loudly onto the ground below.

The thugs rejoiced then, shaking fists at Hobie and his rescuer as they flew up to the top of a tree and detached themselves so they could fall onto the stadium light opposite from Spiderman’s initial hiding spot.

Spiderman didn’t stop until he attached another web up to the lights and dangled there for a bit. Adrenaline still coursed through his veins as he shifted Hobie off of his shoulders and let him slide slowly onto his side, his friend’s wiry arms clutching him tightly.

They both watched with rapt attention at the goings-on several feet below them.

The thugs congregated around the fallen item, picking it up and turning it this way and that. It looked like a briefcase, though with the low lighting it really could’ve been anything. It was only when one of them-- the biggest and burliest of them all-- shouted out another colorful swear word that Hobie then seemed to come back to himself again.

He squeezed Spiderman’s shoulders with his arms and kicked at him. They swung a bit from the wiggling.

“Ouch!” Spiderman hissed, as quietly as he could. He was hoping the dark dusk would conceal their position now as long as they made No Noises, but even that wasn’t guaranteed.

“Go, go, go, go, man! Let’s get out of here!!” Hobie hissed right back into his ear, his face mere centimeters away from Spiderman’s mask.

Spiderman stubbornly ignored the heat radiating out from his face at that realization and jerked this way and that, looking for an easy escape from their conundrum.

Flashlight beams danced around the ground before finally swinging up to the trees and catching sight of a pair of shoes dangling in the sky.

The biggest and meanest one of the bunch pulled something out of his pocket and took aim.

Bullet! Spiderman’s senses screamed into his cerebellum.

“Goddamn,” he huffed ruefully as the shots rang out. Hobie panicked. “Bullets for us? That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?”

Hobie clung onto his hero for dear life. “Brother, if you do not get a move on from here, we are both gonna get turned into fish filets!” He shouted into Spiderman’s ear.

“Ow. Okay,” Spiderman grumbled, sticking himself to the side of the pole they dangled from and readjusting Hobie so that he clung onto his back instead.

He took a deep breath and narrowly dodged a bullet that whizzed unnervingly close to their heads. Hobie yelled again.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Spiderman began, speaking quickly. “Hold on, okay? Hold on tight. Just hold on and do not let me go for even a second!”

“On it!” Hobie shouted back, legs kicking a bit before wrapping themselves tightly around Spiderman’s torso.

They both took a breath and then Spiderman jumped, gaining some air before twin webs erupted from his web shooters-- aimed directly towards the seating area entrance.

Together, he and Hobie rocketed from their airborne position towards their escape route once the fluids connected to solid architecture. To his credit, Hobie only whimpered a little bit through the ride.

The thugs had no chance! They stumbled on tired, aching legs towards the very door the two teens had left out of, complaining and cursing some more as they searched through the steps and made their way out onto the theatre’s general admission and concessions area.

They searched and searched through the bushes and trees, going so far as to even check the sculptures near the structure.

After several tense moments of gruff shouting back-and-forth, the search eventually died down until only a couple of the men were left sweeping the area once more. The others had already given up their fruitless endeavor and called it a night.

“Fucking kids, man. What the hell,” Spiderman heard one of them grumble before kicking at the Romeo and Juliet statue angrily and following the rest of his cohorts down the path towards the Great Lawn again.

Hobie and Spiderman let out matching sighs of relief then, happy to have given the men the slip by managing to hide behind the giant 3D Delacorte Theatre sign right above the box offices. Lucky for them, most people don’t think to search behind lit-up signs, so they went completely undetected.

“… Wanna let me know what you were doing here this whole time? You could’ve gotten killed!” Spiderman breathed. He wanted his tone to be sharper, more authoritative… but he was just so glad to see his new friend still in one piece instead of riddled with more holes than a chunk of swiss cheese!

Hobie scoffed, tucking a loc behind his ear and sitting back. Thanks to the lighting of the sign and the other park lights in the area, Spiderman could see him digging around in his coat pocket and fishing out-- a USB drive?

Hobie held it up triumphantly, sleepy down-turned eyes glistening with pride.

“I got it! Suckers! Screw them by the way, I’m not the thief, if that’s what you’re wondering,”

Well. He was sneaky, alright. Spiderman had to hand that to him, at the very least.

He sat back on his heels as well and exhaled. “Fine. I believe you. What’s on that drive?”

Hobie squinted at him then, really giving him a good once-over now that the excitement had officially died down. “…Damn. You’re Spiderman,”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, hi, nice to meet you, I’m your friendly neighborhood Sp-- ugh, seriously man, just tell me what all of that was back there or else I’m webbing you up and calling the cops.”

“Hey!” Hobie objected. “Like I said already, I’m the good guy here. I snagged this from those guys because I caught them snoopin’ around the museum over that way. I followed them and found out they were stealing this!”

Spiderman bobbed his head. “Okay? And what’s on it?”

Hobie turned the drive over a bit in his hands, admiring it. “Most likely? Security codes, schedules, maps. I’ve been uh… investigating those dudes for a while after watching them sniff around the museum for a few days now. It looks like they were just art thieves plannin' a heist, so I jumped on the opportunity to deliver justice myself.”

Hobie’s mischievous grin was met by Spiderman’s disapproving stare.

“And why didn’t you just call security and let them know? Like I said, super dangerous thing you did back there! If I wasn’t there to save you, you could’ve died, man.”

Hobie pocketed his USB drive again and rolled his eyes. “Y’know, for a vigilante hero with cool superpowers, you sure are a square.”

Spiderman sat up and placed a hand on his chest, feigning hurt. “Oof, ow. That’s mean,”

“Yeah, it is, but you know I’m right. If a kid like me walked up to some cops and tried to warn them of a possible art heist, you just know those pricks’ll laugh in my face and do literally nothing about it. I had to take matters into my own hands!” Hobie jutted his chin out defiantly.

Well. Couldn't really argue with that, especially considering PDNY’s less-than-stellar track record of taking preventative measures most times. All that they would most likely do is nod along to whatever Hobie was telling them and chuckle, shaking their heads as they walk away. Not their problem.

Spiderman rubbed his chin. “Point taken," he conceded. "So what’s your plan now?”

Hobie glanced around, as if he was checking for any eavesdroppers. “I’m gonna submit some photos to a journalist I met online before turning this in back to the museum. The journalist’ll help get those guys behind bars once a story's published and some actual adults talk to the cops. I am going to go collect my reward,”

Spiderman blinked. He had a bunch of questions swimming in his head, but the first question out of his mouth was, “what reward?”

“The reward for turning in precious security info, genius!” Hobie tapped at his forehead with a finger and grinned. “If I get to negotiate with them, I can get some money to save up and-- uh. Nevermind. Listen, are you gonna rat me out or not?”

Miles’ brow creased behind his mask. “… I don’t think I will. Sounds like you’re doing the right thing… mostly.”

Hobie cheered silently. “Yes! Okay, I take it back, Spidey. You are cool!”

Spiderman sighed. “But first, I need to know you’re gonna be safe. Like, actually, and that you’re not gonna get followed home.”

Hobie shrugged nonchalantly and pushed more locs out of his face again. “Yeah, you can walk me home if you want,”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, that’s not the only thing I mean. I need you to promise me that you’re not gonna get into stupid stunts like this again. That was so dangerous and you really could’ve gotten hurt!”

Hobie exhaled as well. He stared intensely into the mask’s giant white lenses for a beat, making Spiderman shift uncomfortably.

Then, he held up his pinkie. “… Fine. I won’t do stupid shit like this again. I promise.”

Spiderman blinked a few more times and hooked his pinkie onto Hobie’s. “Uh. Okay, cool! Cool, that’s what I wanna hear, considering keeping New Yorkers safe is my job! I just wanna see you safe, that’s all. No more art heists, you gotta leave that to the professionals to handle,”

“What, professionals like you? You might’ve not even gotten to them in time before they snuck off with like millions of dollars worth of art, bro.”

“Anyone ever tell you you are just so mean? Dontcha have a little faith in me? The ‘vigilante hero with cool superpowers’?” Spiderman shot back.

They both laughed.

“Seriously, though. I do appreciate the fact that you saved my ass back there,” Hobie admitted, eyes cast downwards for a second. “I was actually gonna throw this thing into the lake and hope this drive got eaten by like… a fish or something.”

“And what about you?” Spiderman smiled despite himself.

“Well,” Hobie shrugged. “If I died, I died. I guess,”

It was Spiderman’s turn to scoff now. “You have a family, man. Don’t be ridiculous. You have friends and family that would miss you!”

Hobie’s expression turned dark, his entire face shadowing for a second before being replaced by cool detached nonchalance. A slight hint of annoyance stayed put underneath.

“… My family’s barely my family. I don’t have any friends, either. Don't worry about me.” Hobie admitted in a clipped tone. He stood up abruptly and started doing some casual stretches.

Spiderman stood up as well, knowing fully well how this song and dance was going to go.

He would never admit it out loud, but he’d seen his fair share of self-destructive citizens throwing themselves into the middle of danger in the short time he’d been doing this whole vigilante thing. He had talked many a melancholy or manic person from tossing themselves off of multiple different buildings, different bridges, stopped them from “falling” onto train tracks.

And as loath as he is to admit it, this Hobie’s particular brand of cool detachment was entirely too familiar to him as well.

A flash of his uncle Aaron’s face lit up a part of his brain that he hadn’t really allowed himself to acknowledge since that fateful day. He quickly stamped that out.

He cleared his throat and rubbed at his neck. “… Well. That sounds pretty depressing, man.”

He didn’t notice Hobie’s shoulders hitch at that phrase.

“But,” Spiderman continued, “You got people out here who care about you, even if you don’t know it. You’re still so young, you could be ending your life before you even meet, like, your favoritest person in the whole world, right? So just do me a quick favor, take care of yourself. For me. Live long enough to meet your favorite person, alright?”

Spiderman put on his best comforting expression that he could despite the mask most likely getting in the way of Hobie fully seeing it. He hoped his words were enough to convince him not to dive off the deep end, at least not anytime soon.

It seemed to work at least a little bit, because Hobie looked back at him with a much warmer-- albeit hesitant-- expression.

“Can I ask you something?” Hobie finally said after a few moments of silence.

“Uh, sure.” Spiderman replied.

“Do you know about a kid named Miles Morales at all?”

The air was sucked out of Spiderman’s lungs right then as he floundered like a fish for a minute, brain working into overdrive to make his answer sound both intelligent and convincing.

“U-uh, maaaybeee? I dunno, I meet a lot of New Yorkers everyday and I don’t get many names, yanno? S-sounds familiar, but sorr--”

“I knew it,” Hobie exhaled a laugh and surged forward to embrace Spiderman with both arms.

Spiderman stood frozen in his place, arms held in mid-air as he worked to process this.

“Uh. What--”

Spiderman felt Hobie’s chin dig into the side of his cheek a little as he turned his lips to his ear. “Your secret’s safe with me, by the way. I’m not telling anyone,”

Miles felt his whole world turn on its axis before shattering completely.

Oh no, no, no, no, no! Goddamnit!

Miles pushed Hobie off and stepped back, holding his hands up. “Oh hey, whoa, whoa, whoa. I dunno what you’re thinking or who you think I am, but--!”

Hobie sighed loudly. “Miles, I saw your suit.”

The world screeched to a halt.

Hobie picked his gaze back up off of his feet and even seemed apologetic, almost. “I, uhm. Like, back on the roof. At Visions. I wasn’t… a hundred percent sure I saw it, since it could’ve been any logo at all, but. Well, you’re a pretty bad liar too, y’know that, right?”

Miles sucked in a slightly shaky breath, gulping loudly. “Uh. W-well,”

Hobie smiled shyly. “You, uh… you’re like around the same height as Miles Morales, anyways. And you sure sound a lot like him, too.”

Damn. Damn it all.

Miles spun this way and that, placing his hands atop his head as he panicked slightly. “H-Hobie, you cannot tell anyone else about this, whatsoever. Do you understand? No one. At all. Or we’re both dead!”

Hobie held his hands up, lines creasing in his face. “Look bro, you’ve got secrets of mine too. We pinkie promised, remember? I don’t break promises.”

Miles didn’t point out that the promise was so that Hobie would stop getting himself into stupidly dangerous situations, but he accepted it anyways, albeit reluctantly.

“D-do… do you actually, like actually promise me you’ll never breathe a word about this to anyone? Ever? At all?”

Hobie held up his right hand into the air, as if taking an oath. “I, MJ, solemnly swear to never breathe a single word to anyone about your super secret identity, so help me god.”

Miles planted his fists on his hip and shook his head. “Oh my god,” he exhales on a shaky laugh.

“Don’t you believe me? What would I have to gain by selling you out? Oh,” Hobie stops suddenly, perking up. “We could even work together! I got me my sweet camera and my extensive connects, man. Think about it!”

“No, no. Hobie. Stop that, man. I’m not putting you into any danger after I just saved your skinny butt. Spiderman doesn’t do sidekicks anyways,”

Hobie looked a bit put out, but shrugged anyways. “Well, I mean… think about it sometime. We could seriously take down criminal activity around here, if you’re down! And, uh. You do have my number,”

Miles looked up and took a deep breath. “Mmnyes, I do. I do have your number. That’s… I mean you’re not wrong about that. Listen, I think it’s getting pretty late and we should both be heading back home now, though.”

The corners of Hobie’s mouth curled up mischievously. “True, true. It is a school night, after all.”

Miles couldn’t stop grinning despite the heavy anvil that threatened to burst out of his chest. “Yep, yes it is! Okay, time to get you home now. C’mon, let’s go.”

Miles moved to step into Hobie’s space and carry him on his back again so he could lower the both of them down from the lip of the theatre roof.

But before that happened, he felt Hobie place a cold but strong hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

Miles looked up inquisitively and felt his breath catch in his throat as he felt those same hands slowly slide up the smooth spandex of his suit, up his shoulders, and then they stopped at his neck, at the seam of where his suit and mask met.

The entire thing probably only took a few seconds to do, but to Miles it felt like eons passed as he felt every single muscle twitch and the pulse beating underneath Hobie’s skin while he ran those fingers up his arms.

He was standing so close to him! Oh god!

The entire ordeal was unbearably intimate, and Miles could barely stop the shudder that wracked his body suddenly.

Hobie’s soft lips were slightly parted, the lighting of the sign next to them caught in the dark brown portals that were his eyes.

“U-uhm. Sorry, this is weird...” he mumbled quietly. But his hands didn't move.

All around them, crickets started their soothing chorus.

Here they were, right behind the giant lettering of the Delacorte Theatre, intertwined in each other’s arms on a cold night-- and Miles’ core body temperature has never felt hotter before. He felt like he could melt steel, the way this night was going. He didn’t know when his hands raised to grasp onto Hobie’s arms, but they must’ve done it of their own accord because Miles then felt himself squeezing softly onto Hobie’s biceps.

Slowly, painstakingly, and carefully… Hobie made his move.

Every centimeter of the mask being pushed up was accompanied by a soft look that asked-- no, it begged-- for permission to continue. His hands seemed to move on their own eventually, as he slid the mask up over the back of Miles' head and then eased it up off of his nose.

Hobie wore a soft look of determination then, that fully came into view again once Miles felt his mask slide right up off of his eyes. Hobie’s soft hands eventually fell away, mask in one hand, no sounds in the air except for the wildlife of the park starting to wake now that the night has officially fallen.

Miles wasn’t sure why he did, but he held his breath.

After a few seconds of appraising gazes from each other, pupils meeting pupils, exchanging a million words a second with just a few looks… Hobie grinned beautifully.

“Damn. There you are,”

Miles felt a plume of heat erupt from his gut and rush up to his face. “Uh. Hm, y-yep. Here I am,” he blinked back at Hobie with his big brown eyes.

Hobie had a look of pure joy on his face before it started to melt away suddenly. “You know… I should backstab you for abandoning me out of nowhere that one time, though… I really should...”

The moment collapsed like an undone web, a delicate thing now completely destroyed as Miles leaped up in indignation.

“Hobie!”

Hobie stepped back and laughed loudly. “Re-lax! I’m not gonna actually do it. But. Y’know.”

“And if you do, I’ll leave you webbed up to that billboard near Visions,” Miles threatened, mostly light-heartedly.

“Psshh, and then get my mom’s two million lawyers on your ass? Good luck,”

“As if they could ever catch me! I’m Spiderman!”

Just as easily as they had stepped out of being just kids for a moment, they stepped right back into it, bickering like they'd been friends since forever.

Miles lowered the both of them from the sign and they headed towards the eastern side of the park, making their way over to Hunter’s Gate. They bickered and bantered back and forth the entire way there, and it was only once they made it to the outer gates of the park that Miles stopped them both.

With his mask back on and other New Yorkers now milling nearby, Miles made it a point to lower his voice as he turned to Hobie and puffed his chest out heroically.

“So, random citizen. Where are we off to today? I told you I’d take you back home safely, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“’Cause you promised, right?” Hobie smirked, tucking his hands into his coat pockets.

“Uhm. Yeah, yeah. I did. So, lead the way!” Spiderman made a grand ushering gesture, and Hobie chuckled good-naturedly as he stepped aside and exited Central Park.

“You gonna walk me home, Spiderman?” Hobie threw him a side-long glance.

“Yyyeah…? Why? You’d rather swing home?”

“I liked swinging, actually. Yeah,” Hobie stopped where he was on the sidewalk and nodded with an air of finality. “Yeah… let’s swing!”

Spiderman felt his heart do a few somersaults in his chest before he gestured towards his shoulders. Hobie quickly assumed the position, long lanky arms wrapping around him and leaning his body weight against Spiderman’s side.

Spiderman shot up a web to a nearby street lamp and gave his friend one more glance.

“You sure?” He asked again, really making sure that Hobie was okay with this. Not many people really liked swinging, which was understandable. Even Miles wasn't the biggest fan of it at times.

Hobie chuckled and ignored the onlookers as they slowly ambled past the two, throwing the teens questioning glances as they made their way past them.

“Yeah, I am! Let’s go,”

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Miles: Do you actually actually really like on your LIFE promise that you’re not ginna tell a soul about… well…

Miles: gonna*

MJ: Yes, Miles. I PROMISE [eyeroll emoji]

Miles: I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE

MJ: Do you actually, though? ;)

Miles: No. But I can find out… I got connects

MJ: Uh huh. I’ll tell your “connects” that if you don’t take me out on that promised lunch date, our friendly neighborhood Spiderman just might be the next trending topic on ALL social media apps again very soon……..

Miles: Oh my god. You are Evil. I can’t believe this. My next arch nemesis… damn

Miles: What a killer plot twist. The greatest foe I have yet to face happens to be none other than one of my very own classmates

Miles: It be ya own people

From his family’s Lower Manhattan penthouse, Hobie laughs out loud as he reads the text messages, ignoring all of the curious glances thrown his way by various members of his team.

From Miles’ own humble dorm room at Visions, he laughs aloud as well.

[emoreooo]

hey, I've been seeing your yuri au around recently, and I just want to say that in addition to your really nice art style, you're the only person I've seen draw fem!Kel and not:

-anime-girl-fiy Kel

-remove Kel's body hair

and I thank you for it. I have seen too many fem!Kels that are just the default anime girl body type with Kel's hair, clothes and skin tone, so seeing your take on fem!Kel is a nice breath of fresh air

THATT IS SO SWEET thankyou so much for your kind words !! 🥺 have aged up kel <3

[sillylittleraccoon]

i love being myself.

[cuplague]

ah! so slug designs!

my personal interpretations for the gang 👍and various headcanons! happy pride

[yupthisisshe]

Neville headcanon/drabble - Emoticons and love hearts:

✿ He uses emoticons (70% of his personality is “:)” and well as 70% of his texts because he uses that one nearly every time he texts you) more than emojis, and when he does use emojis, the ones he uses most are ❤️ and 😮

✿ He also definitely signs his name in letters to you with a smiley and/or heart

✿ He doesn’t like just saying ok so he will say “Ok, love ❤️” or “Okay, love <3” and it gets you every time (pls I can’t he’s so sweet)

✿ Sometimes (especially when he first got a phone to communicate with you better) he just sends “:)” and nothing else

✿ You think it’s the cutest thing (it is)

✿ <3

✿ In conclusion, Neville Longbottom has my heart for life and he is the sweetest boy EVER.