#that is the only possible way you could have gotten that sword out in under 30 seconds

[ebbpettier]

i love wayward son but as someone who worked at a renfest his whole childhood (and is desperate to work for one again but money's tight) i have an ULTIMATE NITPICK

[unoislazy]

Jealousy Looks Good On You

Mizu x Jealous! Reader

Summary: You and Mizu have been close friends for quite some time. You truly enjoyed each others company, that was until Taigen showed up.

Disclaimers; light language, has not been proofread, I am currently delirious from packing and moving all day but I had to write this out to feed the starved mizu lovers. A fair amount may not make sense at this point in time. My apologies ❤️

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You and Mizu have been friends for a while now. Honestly you were surprised you could even say that. Mizu was not someone who would openly accept friendship applications on a daily basis, they usually wouldn’t even talk to people unless it was absolutely necessary. But somehow, despite this, you had gotten past that wall and weaseled your way into becoming her friend.

That was how you viewed it at least, you liked to think that she at least enjoyed your company seeing as she had yet to just up and leave you randomly, which she very well could successfully do if she wanted. You two had learned a lot about each other through late night talks and just general conversations. You of course, had learned about her secret, and you vowed to keep it from anyone else that would cross your path. She in turn had learned a lot about you, things about your past, your likes and dislikes, the usual things that a companion would know.

However, there was one thing she didn’t know about you and you planned to keep it that way. You had been traveling alongside Mizu since you two had crossed paths in a town that she did not intend to stay long in.

Since then you had always admired Mizu for her skills with a sword. That admiration eventually turned to something much stronger.

You would never admit it outloud but you had developed a small crush on the blue eyed woman, and in all honesty it was pretty hard to keep it under control.

Your dynamic had just been you and her for a long time and once Ringo was added to the group it only added to your enjoyment. You loved spending time with them. You honestly found it pretty adorable how Ringo persistently followed the two of you around, just as you had once done to Mizu well before him.

However, once Taigen joined… things changed.

He was never supposed to stay this long, the only reason he did was because Mizu had saved him when escaping that stupid tower. You wanted to go with her, you pleaded with her to take you with her to at least have some back up in case something went wrong but she refused. She wouldn’t give you any other reasoning than, “I need you to stay here.”

No matter how many times you asked why, she would just give you the same answer until you listened. She didn’t want you to go along with her, she wanted to do this alone. And yet when you and Ringo had found her, was she alone?

No… of course not.

He was there with her.

You didn’t recognize him at first of course, you simply thought him to be some random man Mizu thought it was in her best interest to save. In the time you knew Mizu, that didn’t happen often.

You and Ringo had managed to get them both out of the icy water and make your way to the sword fathers house, keeping them both as warm as you possibly could while in such a state.

It wasn’t until Mizu had initially woken up did you finally find out who the man was.

“You’re awake.” You exclaimed, making your way over to a very dreary Mizu who was trying to prop herself up. You smiled, feeling a sudden wave of instant relief as she looked up at you,

“Is Taigen awake.” Were the first words to come out of her mouth.

“Taigen?” You asked, the name felt familiar but you couldn’t tell from where.

“He’s not awake yet.” Ringo answered, he was still very upset with Mizu after their last meeting and that would’ve been clear to anyone just through his tone of voice.

Taigen… Taigen… where have you heard that name?

That’s when you realized, on one of your very late night talks, Mizu had opened up to you a bit about her childhood. In the tale she told, one name continued to pop out.

Taigen.

The kid who was absolutely ruthless to her. All because of the color of her eyes. You remembered just from listening to the story, the anger you felt for Mizu, but even as she was telling the story she didn’t seem quite bothered by it. You supposed she’d have had a lot of time to think about it to the point the memories no longer brought up any emotions.

You looked away from Mizu and turned to the man who was resting quite peacefully not too far away from her. Your astonished gaze turned to a very clearly displeased glare. Never in your life would you think that you wouldn't end up coming across this man, not once, but twice. You had seen the man before, he had shown up a few other times before this, the only reason you hadn’t reacted as harshly was because you didn’t know who he was. You guessed you hadn’t recognized him this time due to the amount of bruising he sustained from his stay at the tower.

Deserved, in your opinion.

Once Mizu had woken up, she of course got right to work just as she usually did. She had no idea what the words ‘take a break’ meant. You helped her out with most of the tasks she tried to perform, but there was one she was insistent on doing alone, again.

So you sat back, preparing whatever medicine Ringo had asked for you to make as he followed around the sword father like there was no tomorrow. You sat in silence, Taigen sleeping not too far away from you, the fire still blaring keeping you both warm.

Why him of all people. Why did he have to be the one she brought back?

There was nothing you could do about him now except for hope that when he wakes up he just gets up and goes on his way.

You rolled your eyes, even thinking about the man made you mad, so you went back to your mundane task. That was until you heard the sound of what you realized to be Taigen stirring as he finally woke up.

“Great, you're awake.” You said sarcastically as you turned towards the man who had rolled over, making sure to make several groaning noises in the process. Sure he was in severe pain but literally everything he did, logical or not, annoyed you.

He didn’t even truly process who you were or why you were there, the first thing he asked was,

“Where’s Mizu?”

Seriously? Why did these two suddenly care about each other so much?

You tried your best to remain as neutral as possible as you very lowly answered, “Outside.”

You didn’t want to tell him, you didn’t even want to speak to him in the first place and You sure as hell didn’t want to leave him alone with Mizu. How could anyone trust him? Sure people change, and most of what he did to Mizu was from when they were kids… but your concern still stands. Who knows, maybe he’s still an asshole.

But in the end, it wasn’t your choice on whether he and Mizu got closer. You would protest it, and you‘d protest it hard but when it comes to it, if Mizu for some reason completely unknown to you decided he was good enough to keep around you’d have to be okay with it.

Some time had passed since they had both woken up. Mizu had gone out to try and remake her sword and Taigen had gone off to… well you didn’t really know nor did you care. You had been sitting outside on the snow covered ground, looking up at the night sky, trying to just clear your mind.

You didn’t like feeling so angry all the time, especially over someone who you personally had no reason to truly be angry at. You felt guilty, it wasn’t your place to make such decisions on who was good for Mizu and who wasn’t but you couldn't help it. It felt almost as if it was some kind of instinct, but you couldn’t really place what it was or why you felt it. All you knew was that you hadn’t felt like this before, and it frightened you. You didn’t want to be so pushy or mean to the two just because you didn’t enjoy one person's presence.

You sighed as you continued to stare up at the sky.

“What is wrong with me?” You whispered quietly to yourself.

While you were having your moment of self reflection, you noticed Taigen who had made his way back from the village carrying food. The guilt you felt seemed to double as you looked at him, so you simply looked the other way.

He walked inside the house not even sparing you a glance, he probably didn’t even know you were there. You were sitting in almost complete darkness, the only light being the glow from the fire inside and the moonlight. You enjoyed the isolating feeling it gave, it felt as if time had stopped as you stared at the bright moon above. You were completely lost in thought, zoning out as you stared at the moon. The only thing to snap you out of it was the sound of a large thud, as if something had hit the ground.

You panicked thinking that Taigen had attacked, just as you thought he would. You rushed over to the door of the house but you stopped once you noticed the position the two of them were in. They were so close to each other, and it didn’t seem like they were actually fighting with each other. You hid behind the door frame, not wanting your presence to be known as you thought about what you had just seen.

Does she actually like him? Why are they so close to each other? Is this seriously happening?

All these questions ran through your head as you backed away from the door. So badly did you want to ‘accidentally’ stumble inside and ruin the moment but then you knew you’d feel even more guilty about it. You just tried to let it go and move on with your night.

You tried.

The next day you had become incredibly standoffish. Mainly towards Mizu and Taigen which made it especially noticeable. Anytime Mizu had asked anything of you, you wouldn’t respond like normal, in fact this time you barely responded at all. Usually you seemed so happy to do anything within her company, but now it was as if you were looking right past her.

When Taigen would even attempt to talk to you, you wouldn’t even make a move to acknowledge his existence.

It was extremely petty and you knew that, but you seriously had no other way to deal with your emotions. You were trying your hardest to keep your thoughts down and just be happy for the two that you thought had some kind of chemistry but you weren’t getting far.

Later that night, you walked into the same room as Mizu. she had been sitting down drinking something from her cup, and staring off into the distance deep in thought. Once you had noticed her, you didnt give your normal greeting, you just sat down across from her and paid her no mind.

“What is your problem?” She finally asked. You simply looked at her, your face was as empty of emotion as you could make it.

“What do you mean? I don’t have a problem.” You lied, trying to not get ahead of yourself. You had so many things that were just so eager to get out, but you didn’t want to share them. You wanted to keep quiet and never mention a single one. If you never mention your problems you don’t have to feel guilty about them, right?

Mizu stared at you, astonished by your persistence with this new attitude.

“Why won't you acknowledge me?” She asked. You averted your gaze by the slightest bit, the guilty feeling coming back.

“I’m acknowledging you right now.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I don't understand your problem here, I’m the exact same.” You lied. You were trying so hard to keep everything under control.

“No you’re not. We both know that.”

“Since when were you an expert on personalities?”

Just because you were trying hard to keep your cool, doesn’t mean you were doing good at it.

“Since I’ve known you for almost a year.”

“You don’t know everything, you know.”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask Taigen, you seem to go to him for everything anyways.” You didn’t mean to let that slip. If you could take back the words you had just said, you would’ve in an instant. You knew once you had brought up Taigen you wouldn’t be able to stop.

“What is wrong with you?” She asked, confused by your attitude towards every single thing she said. You would never act like this normally, so why now? It almost frightened her, it reminded her a bit of how the people in her past would turn on her so suddenly based on some trait about her, so she assumed the worst.

“There’s nothing wrong with me, Taigen is the problem!” You shouted, now standing up to make your point clear, which took Mizu by surprise. You had never truly gotten so angry before and especially not at her.

“What did he do? Did he do something to you?” She asked, a whole new level of possibilities jumped forward in her mind. She had let her guard down around Taigen, what if he had made a move on you and she didn’t know.

“Are you kidding? I’m not worried about me, I'm worried about you! I mean, what hasn’t he done to you. You’re telling me he was an asshole to you for the entire duration of your childhood that you spent together, and then he suddenly comes waltzing back in claiming he wants to kill you? And then you forgive him? You saved his life sure but now he wants to act all buddy buddy with you? Are you serious? You’re setting yourself up for failure here.” As you went on your ramble, Mizu had begun to relax as she realized the situation. Her eyes followed you as you paced back and forth in front of her, an amused expression creeping its way onto her face.

“Hey.” Mizu began but you could barely hear her over the sound of your own voice.

“You could’ve picked anyone else to start getting close with and I would’ve been fine with it. I mean I don’t control who you can and cannot be close with, but him? Seriously?” You continued.

“Hey.” Mizu repeated, once again trying to get your attention to no avail.

“I mean, you could do so much better. The guy who bullied you for years on end? Oh please, even I would be a better candidate than him, not that I’m saying I should be, but I could be-”

“Stop talking.” Mizu had raised her voice just enough for you to finally hear her and take the hint. You immediately stopped yourself and looked at her with a shocked expression. You had gotten so lost in your thoughts you almost forgot you were ranting to her in the first place. You watched as Mizu’s stern expression shifted to one of a more… smug nature as she stared at you, her eyes looking at you from just above the rim of her glasses so you could see the color in its entirety.

“Are you… jealous?” Mizu asked, an amused smile very evident on her face as she slightly turned to you. Your head shot towards her direction as you opened your mouth to protest but nothing came out.

She was right, you were jealous. Really jealous. You had gotten so lost in your hatred towards Taigen you had forgotten to take a step back and realize how stupid your actions looked.

“I just… don’t think he’s right for you.” You muttered, crossing your arms in defiance as you averted your gaze. You weren’t looking at her but you could tell the woman was just staring at you with a very plain look, a look that probably said something along the lines of ‘are you serious?’

“Not right for me?” She asked, placing her dish down on the ground before looking back up at you. Once she had looked back towards you she had realized you still weren't looking at her, and that wasn’t going to do.

“Look at me.” She demanded. Her tone was not harsh but she was quite stern about it. You did as she said without another question, turning your head to look at her even though you wanted to do anything else but that at the moment.

“What do you mean he’s not right for me?” She asked again, wanting a serious answer out of you.

“I saw the two of you… last night. When you were sparring. I saw how you looked at him and I just. I don’t think he’s a good choice for you.” You admitted. You felt so stupid, couldn’t you have just kept your mouth shut and moved on like an adult. Why did you have to be so petty about someone who didn’t even reciprocate your feelings? You were friends, why would you become anything more than that?

She didn’t say anything in response, she simply stared at you as she usually did, but this time her staring made you feel so small. You already felt guilty about feeling this way and now that you had actually said it out loud to Mizu’s face and all she was doing was staring, it made the feeling unbearable. You wanted to cry, but you wouldn't dare to, not now. To risk looking even more childish than you do already? You’d rather die.

“Then who do you think would be a better choice?” She inquired, earning nothing more than a shrug from you. You had said what you needed and you feared if you said anything more you would dig yourself into a deeper hole. “Come on, you don’t have anyone in mind?”

She was teasing you.

She wasn’t mad?

Why was she playing into this, why wasn’t she upset with you placing your own opinions on her feelings.

“I don’t know… literally anyone else?” You responded quietly, not really wanting to answer the question.

“What, like you?” She retorted with a playful scoff.

“I didn’t say that.” You denied, quite defensively one might add.

“Yes you did.” She corrected.

“You heard me wrong.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I heard you wrong.” She repeated, confirming the fact that you were actually trying to play that card.

You nodded.

“So you didn’t say, ‘even I would be a better candidate than him’.”

Well, she got you there, Those were in fact the words you said. You were in too deep to go back now so you committed to your sense of denial full force.

“Where are you getting these words from?” You tried to play dumb, obviously it wasn’t going to work.

“Don’t try to lie to me, I heard you say them.”

“I wasn’t saying that I would be the only candidate, I was just using myself as an example. I’m not saying that you’d have to pick me over him I’m just saying that in the grand scheme of things I just-” You had begun to ramble yet again. You couldn't stop yourself, you felt like everything you wanted to say needed a further explanation to make it not sound as bad as it did. Luckily, this rant was cut very short.

“Hey.” Mizu said, very quickly getting you to shut up unlike the last few times. This time however, she was much closer than she was before. Much, much, closer. You hadn’t noticed that throughout the entire duration of your little banter match, she had slowly made her way towards you and you had absentmindedly been backing away from her. Well, that was until you couldn’t back up any more. Now she was standing no more than a few mere inches away from you, her hands had managed to slither their way onto your waist, holding you in place.

“What…” You whispered. You didn’t know what else to do with yourself, you felt as if you could melt into a puddle right then and there as you stared into her eyes. Her eyes however, had not stayed focused on yours, and instead began to travel around to other areas of your face. You had never really seen this side of her. There would be no reason to really, unless she truly felt the same way.

There wouldn’t be any logic behind Mizu just messing with you to mess with you, she only ever really put up fronts for people she needed information from, and the only information you had was how much you wanted her in that exact moment. You would never say that outloud though.

“Stop talking.” She whispered back, her eyes almost entirely focused on your lips as she very slowly neared you. You couldn’t hold yourself back, moving yourself forward and making the move to seal the kiss yourself.

Words wouldn’t be able to accurately describe how you felt in that moment. Neither of you truly expected it, but the kiss had become a lot more heated way faster than you truly expected. Turns out you both had buried feelings that were going to be known one way or another. Your hands had made their way to Mizu’s hair and her hands had begun to travel away from your waist. Once you had eventually parted from the kiss, you both looked almost surprised that any of that truly happened.

Mizu laughed a bit to herself as she looked at you.

“You know, Jealousy looks good on you.” she said before you rolled your eyes,

“Stop talking.” Was all you said before continuing where you left off.

[paymechildsupport]

Divine. // Heian Sukuna x M!Reader <3

smut brainrot :( -!! Overstim, - oral, - sex with a lot of feewings, - monsterfucking (he has 2 cocks), - tadbit body horror possibly --------------------------------------------------

aghjakhg he's so.. :3

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Sukuna couldn't quite believe it: your hands, so soft, were gently running themselves over his chest.

"What are you...?" The words clogged in his throat, feeling you start to trace down.

You shifted in his lap, alone with him and solely him, -- under the dark awning of the night. No one would come to look for the two of you, not now, when it was so late out.

You could barely see the massive body in front of you, -- so you felt him. You ran your fingers over the expanse of his chest, his shoulders, his four arms, - mapping a general shape in your mind's eye. You couldn't see but you could see him, -- see him in a way no had before.

Air eluded itself from his lungs and he shuttered involuntarily. He had never been touched, been held like this, handled so tenderly. Fingers, miniscule compared to his massive figure, grazed over the markings etched onto his skin. You could faintly feel yourself touch over a scar, a raised, rough mark on his perfect body. It only made you sink deeper into him, his loose embrace of his arm around your waist. Your fingertips sketch the defined muscle, feeling every dip of skin and flesh, -- living proof of the decades of hard, grueling work engrained into his abdomen. His abs slightly flex when you run over them, you can feel the strong muscles ripple with each sharp intake of breath.

You reach the curve of his second mouth, running your thumb over the thin lip in his stomach.

"Careful..." he mutters. The last time someone had gotten so close to that area, it hadn't ended well for him. Sukuna could briefly picture his mangled skeleton, twisted and bent at all the wrong angles.

The Curse was in awe, how you effortlessly touched over his body, hardened by the decades of war and bloodshed it had borne witness to.

A noise involuntarily ripped itself from his lips, - the broken sound of a tiny, cornered animal. He had never in his life been touched in such a way, -- revered almost.

You reach back up, fingers dancing along his skin, tracing every line of those inky black markings. Sukuna realizes too late when you reach for his neck, pausing there, to rub the place where his pulse was. The blood rushed underneath your touch, rapid and humming and alive. It was such a vulnerable spot for him, but Sukuna stays frozen, rooted to his spot, so you don't stop. You travel up, all the way up to his face, where they lingered over his jaw. You press the pads of your fingers into the hard bones of his face, feeling along his jaw, his chin, and the jutting outline of his nose.

In his long lifetime most had shunned him: turning on him with huge swords and fearful expressions. But with you, he no longer was the ghastly monster, he just simply was.

"Beautiful...." You breathe

Sukuna's own breath faltered,

"You think I'm beautiful?" He sounded surprise, unsure, -- a kind of insecurity that should have terrified him, -- but it was with you, and he embraced this vulnerable state.

You smile softly, only Sukuna with his cursed vision could make the shape out in the dark,

"Very."

Sukuna wanted to lick the worship off your lips.

The lower arms on your abdomen tighten.

Silently, your fingers meet the rough start of his second face. You freeze, feeling the harsh change in texture from his smooth skin. Sukuna hesitates; would this be where it all came to an end? When you look at him with anything but deep adoration? Where the affectionate touches would be met with violent resistance, and you'd hate him, find him to be the grotesque and horrifying monster everyone else did?

Sukuna hated himself for feeling so hopeful.

But you simply start your exploration again, fingers travelling up and down the rough expanse of melded flesh.

"Fascinating.."

Sukuna was surprised; you found his second face fascinating.

He waited for the moment you'd change your mind, stop lying to yourself, start spitting crude insults and accusatory words, to swear, to hit, to resist him in some way.

But it never came.

You trace the rough folds of his face with a caress nothing short of adoring.

For the longest time, he had been denied this.

Sukuna's eyes were closed now. He couldn't comprehend the mixture of emotions he was feeling in this moment.

He was completely exposed, vulnerable... beautiful...

His second face... usually filled with terror... was receiving such tender care.

His thumbs trace to the hem of your top, gently pressing down into the soft skin, rubbing what he hoped were affectionate caresses. No one had ever made him feel such a way before, and he wished to show you the same affection, the same adoration, as you showered onto him. He had to admit he was quite inexperienced-- making contact with another living thing usually had some violent motive, but all Sukuna desired to do was wrap his arms around your tinier body -- shield you from the rest of the world. The idea of anyone else getting this kind of attention from you filled him with a strange bitterness unknown to him: jealousy.

He could feel every tiny detail of your movements, every inch of you getting slowly leaning in closer, every carefree intake of breath. He felt envious of the way the oxygen so effortlessly entered your lungs, how you inhale it without a second thought. It would be so easy for him to simply reach out and crush your windpipe, steal the air from your lungs the same way you did his.

In this moment, he saw and felt it all. Every inch of your body was beautiful to him.

"Mmm..." he whispered, relishing in the feeling of your presence so close to him.

Carefully, tentatively, you dip your head down, bringing your face closer, lips softly grazing his cheek.

Sukuna almost choked.

The feeling of your lips on his cheek sent chills through his body. He had always seen himself as the menacing and terrifying harbinger of suffering who had to be kept at a distance.

But now, he was seeing from your view... And from your perspective, he was beautiful.

His heart pounded against his chest as he felt your breath on his cheek.

Then you kiss him;

Every muscle, every tendon of his body seemed to tighten, and you were surprised they didn't just snap altogether.

All kinds of new, delicious sensations coursed through him,

Mwa :3

He had spent countless years of his life slaughtering people and taking control of everything he could... But here, he was weak again, like a newborn child.

He felt his breath grow short, labored, completely lost in the sensations of the kiss. All his fears and regrets, all the pain and misery accumulated from his years of cursed isolation, separated from the world around him, becoming the untouchable King of Curses, -- It all melted away. It was pure, unadulterated bliss.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, pressing you against him. Having you so close, you seemed so delicate to him, yet you were exploring him without hesitation, without fear, the first person he had encountered in so many years who didn't think of him as a monster.

His muscles were completely tense, but he had no desire to stop. He was enjoying every second of it.

You were kissing him, and he felt your tongue peek out from your intertwined lips, slipping into his mouth and meeting his. You fit so nicely against him, his hands slotting perfectly onto your waist, hips fitting like two puzzle pieces. It was all so... soothing to him.

The way you were taking control was indescribable--your kisses making his heartbeat so fast he swore it would explode, his breath was fast and short. He didn't think he could keep these feelings in for long without combusting altogether.

You pull away, gasping for air (unlike Sukuna, who as a curse, if he could have his way, would have kissed you for hours, days even).

"Your touch is.... divine"

Sukuna could bathe in the way you gazed at him, the way your eyelids drooped, the way your bright irises shone up at him through your lashes. Many once eerie, cold maroon eyes met yours with enough loving reverence to shake Heaven Herself.

As the word left his lips, he was staring at you. The look on his face was one of utter contentment and happiness.

You had kissed him so delicately, so tenderly. He felt every sensation burn itself into his mind, desperately grasping to remember the way your lips felt on his.

His grip on you was gentle and cautious. He didn't want to crush you. You were so small and slender. Such a frail and delicate human in his grasp. Yet the same, you were something else, something he had never experienced before.

You wanted something so intimate with him. It had Sukuna spiraling deeper and deeper into a side he had long since forgotten about. He felt frail, weak... human, -- yet Sukuna couldn't find it within himself to care. The rush of sensations and emotions he felt from your contact, from your kisses and the way you touched him, -- It was intoxicating.

He wanted you, every single part of you...

No matter what.

---

You laid with him that night, and he took you-- right on the dirt ground beneath a sky of stars. Sukuna reveled in the way your body writhed underneath him, such a beautiful, fiery creature.

He bent down, placing a gentle, loving kiss to your forehead, licking the salty sheen of sweat from your skin. You shudder, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as another hot lick of pleasure curdles through you, searing white.

He couldn't get enough of you, decades of societal neglect and the absence of human companionship had starved Sukuna, and you were a whole feast. He ravished your body, the carnal hunger never satiated until he filled you with his full.

You clung desperately to his strong forearms, nails digging into the firm muscle. Incoherent babblings cascaded from your lips which he dipped down to hungrily lap up as you mewled underneath him. He'd crash his lips onto yours, the sweetness almost lost from the first time, -- drowned in the desperate need of the kiss.

Two large hands held you steady, keeping your legs apart and waist in place as Sukuna continued his rolling thrusts into your lower abdomen. Every snap of his hips against yours sent another coil of pleasure curling in your stomach.

Puddles of his seed bubbled from your opening, leaking through the small crevices and corners from where his massive cocks somehow didn't take up. You swear you almost shatter completely the moment you feel those sharp teeth graze the walls lining your insides.

Sukuna smiles from inside of you, two long tongues lolling out to lick at the coating of your guts. He pulls out the slightest bit, just enough so a relieved smile breaks on your face. He wished there was a way to permanently engrave the moment your hopeful expression shattered into his brain-- the way your eyes widen in horror, your mouth slacked open as the two tongues bully their way between your organs. They twist, intertwining, drinking the wetness from your body dry almost, and coming to a deadly point prodding at your stomach and swirling your intestines.

You cry out, the agonizing pain clashing deliciously with the pure bliss you felt. Your mind blanks and all the colors melt together.

Everything turns molten. Sukuna reaches down between your thighs, taking you in one big hand. You choke on your own spit, coughing and spluttering, hands flying to your crotch, only to be gently swatted away. Sukuna chuckled, gently pushing your body down as your back arches.

He continues to play with you in his hand, kneading the flesh between the pads of his fingers. He runs his knuckles up and down, coating his fingers with the tears from your crying tip. He tugged you playfully, watching like an eager puppy when your relief pours into his hands, drizzling in between his fingers, squirting onto his chest, painting the black markings white.

Sukuna places two lathered fingers into his mouth, groaning from the taste of you sitting on his tongue, and he sucks down hard.

He needed you like the earth the sky's rain. You gave meaning to his long, empty, accursed life. You were forever damned to him, and Sukuna would have it no other way.

You were his god, his stars, his beauty.

And he found you absolutely ... divine.

<3

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[A/N]: the other kind of lobotomy kaisen

[bindibites]

Its done!!! Bunch of rambles and stuff under the cut :) (its long, but I hope you guys enjoy!!!)

-> General Stuff Petra is built like a rectangle with enough muscle to make you experience regret swifter than you may have ever thought you could.

Rips in her clothes aren't super uncommon and she isn't usually super quick to mend them unless its basically ruining the garments. Carabiner. This woman is GAY. If you don't know the full meaning go look for it :) Easy attachment to weapons and tools, Miss Butter is probably akin to a prized possession everything considered; With as much as she's used having mending was a must, but truth be told she's probably about as kitted out as you'd expect end-game diamond gear to be. That sword is never going anywhere if Petra can help it. Especially after the stint with Stella basically stealing her. She has a lot of scars, from a lot of different sources between smaller bumps and scrapes, explosions, enemies... the Wither Storm. Petra's wither sickness in particular was almost deadly, and the damage it'd done to her body never fully went away. The veins in her arm remained discolored around the scar, and the arm is mildly weaker than it would've been pre-withered though through steady use is basically back to being good as new. Petra's lungs also never fully recovered, a mild chronic cough left in its wake, though gets worse whenever Petra is sick and her body is weak again. Speaking of... -> Wither (Sickness) Wither typically enters the body through a physical wound and spreads through the circulatory system. Affecting the blood, it attacks and weakens the inflicteds organs and continues to be spread further by the heart simply doing its job. Variant Two is caused by contact to the Wither Storm (See: What happened to Gabriel.) The wither storm is not the only way to get sick with wither, but is the worst and long lasting. From weakest to strongest: Wither roses - Wither Skeletons - The Wither - Wither Storm. Injuries from all but the Wither Storm will eventually run their course as it doesn't have a consistent source to keep pulling from; thanks to its use of the command block, this does not apply to the Wither Storm. Wither acts similarly to being poisoned, though it acts slower, its side effects and danger are far worse, and dying cannot be ruled out of possibilities even for the weakest source of it. Untreated wither will kill the inflicted if they become too weak before the body can get it out of its system. -> Relationships Generally Petra is very much a provider, she cares intensely for people she's close to and enjoys doing acts of service for them. Her relationships mean a lot to her, and it tends to lead to her putting all of herself into the people she cares about; sometimes for better or for worse. Lukas and Petra have been friends for awhile, well before either of them knew about Jesse and his friends. While not exactly childhood friends, they've known each other long enough to know each other and certainly act the part.

Petra and Stella didn't always have a strained relationship, in fact when they'd first gotten to know each other things were great. Stella respected Petra's capabilities, found her affinity for exploration and her skill in combat to be amazing. Though over time, it became less admiration and more of manipulation, Petra was an easy source of loot Stella both couldn't and didn't want to get on her own... and who better to turn to than the explorer who loved her. Things did not end on good terms between the two, and ended very bitterly given even after Petra gave her another chance she was subjected to getting tricked into doing work all over again. (S2) Petra has a fond admiration towards Olivia, though believing at most that the girl could use a bit more guts and trust in her own abilities; after all she's done things most of the rest of the group couldn't even with all the time in the world! Really a brains and brawn type situation, and the two often bounce off of each other a bit. Olivia appreciates having the company, and someone who even if she doesn't fully understand whats going on is intent to help get the materials to make it possible if need-be, in return Petra has been able to pick up bits of knowledge, the way redstone works at least in its bare minimum and some of the internals of more machinery in Redstonia. ...While the she might never fully utilize that knowledge, it makes Olivia happy to have someone else in the group be attentive and care about what makes her happy. Petra and Jesse have also been very close, though it did take some time for her to warm up to the way Jesse was so... enthusiastic to even be recognized by her sometimes. Though, through everything the two know they can rely on one another to have each others back. Though neither of them could ever see each other romantically, it's still an undeniable how fundamentally close they'd become. It's definitely more than just a friendship, but neither of them could probably concisely tell you anything about their relationship on a level past "Well, we aren't dating..." Even in light of the others having different responsibilities to tend to, Jesse was still there; The adventures didn't have to end, and they didn't, and Petra wasn't alone because of Jesse's willingness to go with her on whatever excursion she needed to, or wanted to. - If you read all of this ur a real one... three thousand wither storms upon you as thanks 💜

[ameagrice]

Capsize

percy jackson x fem reader

chapter thirty-five | when I say ‘hell’, you say ‘nah’

Being tied up and gagged sitting beside a barbecue spitting hot oil at you, was not on the agenda.

And yet you sighed, tied up to a barbecue. Across the porch, Nico sat the same way, bound to the railing. To your left, Grover mirrored him, tied up in the sun. He was sweating, and looked incredibly tired. You wished you could do something about the situation you got caught in, but the truth was, you couldn’t do a thing. Percy got you here, and only Percy could get you out.

“Lovely day!” Geryon flipped sausages. A bit of piping-hot oil landed on your cheek. You flinched, but he didn’t pay you any notice. “Lovely day…Eurytion, get those banners higher!”

Streamers and party balloons were tied up and taped to the windows by Eurytion, who you deducted to be a spineless man. He’d tied you all up at Geryon’s instructions and relaxed on the bench under the window, in the shade.

You tried desperately to think of a way you could contact anyone. Chiron, perhaps, who could advise you on what to do now that Percy had gotten you tied up and held hostage. Maybe even Sally Jackson, since she always knew what you could do. Her advice hadn’t failed you yet. But there were no water sources or reflective surfaces to make a rainbow, and you could reach your bag chucked out of the way down on the grass, anyway. Eurytion had been kind enough to put your dagger in your bag, rather than throwing it away. That was something.

Eurytion and Geryon ate barbecue food, put more on the grill, and ate that, too, until the sun had set relatively low. The whole time, you tried not to hyperventilate at the thought of Percy being eaten by monster horses. You tried not to think of the high possibility you’d be sold off like a piece in a thrift store. You tried not to, but your mind ran wild. Grover communicated with his eyes, probably as tired as you were after your struggle to get out of the ties. You hadn’t any idea what he was communicating, though—the sun beamed in your eyes.

You were beginning to think he wasn’t coming back at all, a hopeless sort of sadness setting in, when a desperate, boys voice rang out above the barbecue and Geryon’s terrible singing.

“Let them go!” Percy’s voice raged. He ran up the porch steps and rounded. He locked eyes with you, and then Grover and Nico. “I cleaned the stables. So let them go.” Relief lifted the weight off your shoulders, that Percy was still breathing.

Geryon lifted off his cooking apron and dumped it over the porch rail. “Did you, now? How’d you manage it, sonny?”

Breathing deeply, Percy explained. “The water from the river. I…controlled it. Cleared the stables out completely.”

Geryon nodded appreciatively. “Well, then, Mr. Genius, smart move. You could have at least poisoned the naiad that resides in there, but hey-ho.” The staticky radio on the bench next to Eurytion played an Elvis Presley song, cutting out here and there. Polk Salad Annie felt a little bit too upbeat for the unpredictable crowd.

“Let my friends go,” Percy seethed, not appreciating the insinuation that he hadn’t done enough. “We had a deal.”

Geryon chuckled. “See, the problem is, and I’ve been thinking about this very deeply; if I let your friends go, I won’t get paid. They’re staying.”

Your eyes widened so much you might have looked comical. Percy turned gray. “You. Promised.”

“Ah, but you didn’t have me swear on the River Styx, did you? Therefore, it was not binding. Always remember, Percy, when you’re conducting any business, you should always swear on the River Styx. A binding oath is worth everything, alrighty?”

A beat of silence hit as Percy drew his sword. Riptide reflected the gold of the sun, strong at your friend’s side. Orthus, standing at Grover’s head, growled deeply.

Geryon waved Percy off like he was a knat. “Eurytion, he’s annoying me. Kill him.”

Grover and yourself protested as much as you could with your mouth’s somewhat bound too. Geryon looked away and slung a packet of bacon on the grill. At the same time, Percy inched closer to you, angling Riptide to the ties on your ankles. Orthus pounced and snapped at him, forcing Percy to move away. Saliva dripped from the dog’s mouths in a disgusting puddle near your feet. You couldn’t help feeling a little angry at him. For the first time, Percy had truly put your life at risk, and his way out of it failed to be effective.

“Kill him yourself,” said Eurytion, crossing his arms loosely.

Raising his dark brows, Geryon uttered a calm, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me! You keep sending me to do your dirty work. You pick fights for no proper reason, and I’m tired of dying for you. You want the kid dead; kill him yourself.”

Tensely, the scene reminded you of a movie, like a cowboy facing down his enemy. You wanted to laugh, but honestly you felt a little too heat-exhausted and scared.

Geryon threw down the metal tongs. “How dare you defy me? I should be rid of you this instant!”

“And who’d look after your cattle then? Orthus, heel.” The dog left you, settling at Eurytion’s side.

“Whatever! I’ll deal with you later, after the boy’s gone.”

Then the scene

went

wild.

Geryon picked up two carving knives and threw them with such fury in Percy’s direction that they went haywire; he raised Riptide and deflected one away, over the rail, the other landed between Eurytion’s feet. Orthus barked aggressively, and Elvis Presley went crazy on the radio. Though obviously tired, and looking sweaty and pale (and in need of a shower after the stench of the stables), Percy went on the offence, raising Riptide and aiming right for Geryon’s head. He ducked and moved aside, causing the sword to go right through his middle chest. You looked away, praying to your mother you didn’t gag, because the way you were feeling in the sun, it would not be good. Geryon yelled in pain and thudded to the deck. You anticipated the familiar sound of crumbling to ashes and dust the way monsters usually do, but it didn’t happen.

“Nice try,” he growled. “Thing is, I obviously have three hearts. It’s the perfect backup!” You looked back just in time to witness him kick over the barbecue that had been boiling all day long. The metal grates fell away, as smoking coals spilled out. Being so close to it, one caught your cheek as it dropped, others burning around your feet. You screamed, and couldn’t stop it. Grover yanked uselessly at his bindings, while Orthus approached him in a low crawl. Elvis didn’t give a shit that you found yourself in a stressful situation. Eurytion stepped back down the porch steps. Nico looked visibly terrified. After all, he was only a kid.

Percy struck Geryon in the chest again, but he only laughed in his face. The dark-haired boy ran the sword through his stomach but it did absolutely nothing. Percy persevered, usually, so watching him take off inside the house was a kick to the stomach. He couldn’t leave you here, surely? Your cheek itched painfully from the burn of the coal and the oil and the sun, you were tired and hot and stressed. Sooner rather than later, you might explode.

Geryon launched the large barbecue fork through the open doorway, and it landed in something with a terrible clunk. “Your head’s gonna go there, Jackson, next to the bear!”

In the doorway, Percy appeared carrying a large bow and notched an arrow, shocking since he couldn’t so much as hit a target a metre away at camp. Geryon berated him verbally with cruel remarks and laughter, but Percy was not to be deterred. The monster didn’t need weapons to charge toward Percy, who dove sideways. Before he could react, Percy let the arrow fly. It shot straight through Geryon’s arm in a bloody mess, and right through his bodies to the other side, landing in the wall inside the house. The ranch grew still and quiet, Geryon turning. “You can’t shoot,” he struggled to talk. “They told me you can’t.” In a sickly shade of violent green, he fell to his knees heavily and promptly turned to ashes, grains as small as sand. Silently, all that remained was a pair of jeans, a huge shirt and boots.

Percy turned, dropping the bow to the deck, clattering. In his pocket Riptide had returned. He cut your mouth free first, careful of the stinging cheek, knowing somehow that freedom of speech was what you wanted now.

You coughed to clear your throat, and brilliant-gray met sea-green. “Glad you’re still breathing, Percy Jackson.”

He swallowed, cutting through the binding at your ankles. “Glad you’re still here, B.”

You collected your backpack and dug straight for a bottle of water, sipping slowly as Grover and Nico were released. Casting the bottle away into your bag, you stood to build up the barbecue again, and offered the last packs of burgers to the gods as a thanks for helping Percy actually get a good shot…and not somehow shooting you, instead (which he had nearly done, once before).

Nico said Eurytion should be tied up, and Grover agreed on the grounds that his dog had tried to kill you all. Murder wasn’t in your books, and you didn’t want to become a subject of interest, but the old man had done nothing while you cooked under the sun and was going to allow you to be handed over to Luke. So…something had to be done.

“Why don’t we just…” you thought, “I don’t know, actually. Could just tie him and make a run for it before he breaks free?”

“Or we could contact Chiron?” Suggested Grover. “Maybe he could do something about this?”

You waved him off. “Chiron would be too nice.”

Percy raised his brows. “And just tying some up is isn’t being too nice?”

“Alright! I’m just saying, murder is a bit far. He isn’t completely guilty. He didn’t really do anything to us.”

“Didn’t do anything for us, either,” retorted your friend. Percy flicked his hair from his face, sweaty and sun-kissed.

Nico gasped with an idea. “We could kill him, and then I’ll go and judge him in the Underworld.”

You clicked your fingers, pointing at Nico. “Ha ha, that’s not what we’re gonna do.”

“Look,” breathed Percy, pocketing Riptide-now-pen. He held out a hand to Eurytion as he spoke. “How long will Geryon take to reform and come back?”

“Couple hundred years,” the farmhand shrugged. “He ain’t one of those quick reformers.”

“Oh, thank you Zeus,” you mumbled. The sky rumbled, perfectly clear.

“You said you died for him in the past, didn’t you? How’d that happen?”

Eurytion explained his immortality, chosen way back when in his half-blood era. Percy stood beside you leaning on the fencing, raising his hand to shield his bright eyes from the blinding sun. In turn, his shadow blocked you, dimming the feel of burning on your face.

“You can change things ‘round here,” offered Percy, “be nice to the animals, not selling them. If we leave you here, you’ve got to stop trading with the Titans.”

Eurytion thought about it hard, and long. He sat silent, just pondering, until eventually he nodded. “I can live with that.”

“Hey, if you get the animals on your side, maybe when Geryon comes back, he’ll be working for you. Tables—turned.”

Eurytion hummed, chuckling low in his throat. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he grinned. He waved off in the distance. “Now go. I haven’t had peace and quiet in years. And the girl looks like she needs a hospital. Seriously, you look sick.”

“That’s rude.”

“You’re not gonna stop us?” Grover pushed away from his seat. You leaned your elbow on his shoulder.

“Hell no.”

Despite his calm, laidback demeanour, you couldn’t help feeling suspicious. Raising your bottle to your warm cheeks, cooling them a little, you asked the question stuck on your mind. “He said somebody paid for our safe passage. The only person I can think of down here who could have done so would be Hera. She met us in the maze. She gave us some not-so-helpful advice. You seen her anywhere?”

Eurytion shrugged. “I don’t know what he was talking about. And I ain’t seen any gods round here, lady.”

“What about Luke, and his army? Did you actually tell them we’re here?”

He scoffed with humour. “Did I hell. We were waiting until after the barbecue. So to answer your indirect question, missus, they don’t know about Mr. Nico.”

The boy himself glared right at you with such passion it almost physically burned. Two options were here and two only.

“You can come with us and get out of here,” you offered. “Or you can stay on the ranch for a while. Either way you’d be quite safe.”

Nico’s face warped to one of fury. His skinny fists clenched at his sides. “I’m not going anywhere with you! Safe? What do you know about being safe? You got my sister killed!”

You practically saw red. Shoving your bag into Percy’s fumbling arms, you leaned down to face Nico, who ground his teeth loudly. “Alright, you little shit—let’s get one thing straight before we go anywhere: I did not get your sister killed. I’ve thought long and hard about it, and ultimately I’ve decided that Bianca had her own brain, and her own free will. I didn’t make her do anything, and I didn’t push her. It was a tragic accident, okay?”

“Nico,” Percy stood beside you, laying a warm hand on your shoulder and urging you back from the kid who didn’t move. “She’s right. Please believe her. Believe us. None of this was anybody’s fault. Staying here would be fine, you don’t have to come with us if you don’t want to. But if Kronos finds out about you, he’ll take you, and he’ll do anything to get you on his side. It won’t be good, Nico, trust me.”

Nico turned his face away. “I’m not on anyone’s side. And I’m not scared of any of this.”

“You really should be. Bianca wouldn’t want any of this.”

He turned back. Nico’s eyes swam with tears, and you felt a little bad for popping off. “If you knew my sister, you know she’d want to come back! If you cared about her, you’d help me to bring her back.”

“A soul for a soul, right?”

“Yes!”

Percy looked troubled. “But if you didn’t want B, and you didn’t want me, then who?”

“I’m not explaining anything to either of you!” He exclaimed. When a tiny tear tread down his cheek, Nico raised his hand to wipe it away aggressively. “I’m going to bring her back. She’s my sister. I need to…I need her.” He rubbed his eyes viciously.

You deflated. Nico tried to look brave, and act older than he was, but his eyes were rimmed with red as he rubbed at them, and he choked on his tears. All of a sudden you wanted nothing more than to sit him down and talk to him, apologise for shouting when he was so upset. You wanted to kick yourself for acting impulsively, and shouting at a child as they cried. At fifteen years old, you should have known better. You reminded yourself terribly then of your father.

“Why don’t we ask Bianca what she wants?”

Nico’s face stilled. “I’ve tried,” he said miserably. “She won’t answer.”

“Try again,” shrugged Percy. A cold breeze shocked you, suddenly. In the distance, storm clouds were rolling in out of a perfectly sunny day…. “I have a feeling she’ll answer with me here.” He sounded very confident in that, and for what reason?

“Why would she?” Asked Nico.

“Because she’s been sending me messages,” Percy shifted on his feet at the sudden onslaught of confused looks. “I’m sure she has. She’s been warning me of what you’re doing. She wanted me to protect you.”

Nico wiped his eyes furiously. “That’s impossible.”

“Why is it?” Percy offered. “Besides, didn’t you say you’re not afraid? Let’s try it. We’ll need a lot of food, and a pit. You got anything like a grave around here?”

—

The grave happened to be dug especially by yourself and Grover. You never were one for gardening, and you find yourself slacking towards the end of the grave-digging.

“Come on,” urged Grover, sweaty and tired. “Just—we can do this. We’ve got this. Positive thinking. Deep breath in…”

You want to tell Grover that positive thinking won’t influence positive actions, because your limbs feel like lead. But together you finish the grave, and your friends pull you out of it. You waited until dark, the five of you and the dog, to call on the dead. With crates of root beer at the ready, Nico paced back and forth, anxious. You sat at the edge of the grave and dangled your legs in, exhausted beyond belief. Every now and then you had to kick away a bug. Grover sat on his heels, sleeping on the crates of root beer.

“Minos should be here by now!” Came Nico’s tiny voice, his dark eyes full of worry. The moon was high and full and bright. Percy’s infinite gray streak shone in the light, a patch among dark, dark hair. “It’s dark enough. It’s late enough…”

“Maybe he got lost,” suggested Percy. Nico glared furiously.

Percy crouched beside you and clapped you on the shoulder, digging his fingers in as a means to try and show you he was there. Maybe he knew you well enough by now to know you were getting irritated and agitated, waiting and tired and forcing your eyes to stay open.

Little Nico grew fed up himself, and wrenched a bottle of root beer from the crate, pouring it into the pit. Grover jerked away, and began helping. With food in a pile from the forgotten barbecue, Nico’s hands dashed out hungrily, and threw them into the pit too, chanting in Ancient Greek. To anyone else, the sudden chill of the night air and the aura that settled with Nico’s chanting might have been terrifying, or uncomfortable. You found the grim ordeal that was summoning the dead to be a rather interesting situation. Something satisfying in raising what once was. A reminder that things never truly died.

It didn’t take long for someone to come forward. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the right someone.

A dark shade of blue, a thin and whispery figure that mirrored who it was once, kneeled at the edge of the grave and reached in. The image somewhat shimmered, and when you looked hard enough, features showed through; deep-set eyes, hardened and somewhat angry; facial features showing crows feet around the eyes, dark brows…

“Minos!” Yelled Nico, suddenly on guard. He brought forth his sword, aimed at the ghost. “What are you doing?!”

“My apologies,” he said, though there wasn’t a hint of sorry in there. Slowly, the ghost’s image grew a bit more real, more colorful. “The sacrifice seemed too good to leave be. Almost in solid form���it’s nice to see myself again.”

“You are disrupting the Ritual! Leave, now!”

Minos paid him no mind. You’d long since jumped away from the edge of the grave, and joined Percy’s side, but something about the ghost ignited in you a want to take Nico’s sword and run the loser through with it. He turned to the two of you, running his eyes in a way that had you almost wretching.

“Percy Jackson!” He hummed. “My, my. The sons of Poseidon never seem to get any better.”

A rude and untrue comment, because you’d seen old images of Greek heroes, and Percy was the best by a million. Not that you’d say that out loud, or anything.

Percy had a lot more self-control than you did in the moment, because he simply took a deep breath, and said, “We’re looking for Bianca. Get lost.”

“Do you really believe Daedalus will help you?” Minos taunted, tilting his head. Nico had begun chanting again, kneeling at the edge of the pit with Grover kneeling dutifully at his side, taking care. “He cares nothing for you, half-bloods! You certainly cannot trust him. He’s cursed by the gods, and guilty of murder. You want somebody like that on your side?”

“Who did he kill?” Asked Percy.

“Don’t change the subject!” Minos spat, a confirmation that he was talking bull, really. “Stop hindering Nico. Don’t persuade him to abandon his goals!”

“We’re helping Nico,” you touched your dagger tucked away in the pocket of your pants. “He’s a child. Leave him alone.”

The ghost settled by Nico’s ear, leaning down to mutter. Nico visibly flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t listen to them, Nico. Let me protect you, not them. I’ll turn them to madness as I did the others. Just say the word.”

If Minos wasn’t already dead, you swore, you’d have killed him there and then.

“Was it you?” Barked Percy. “Did you hurt Chris Rodriguez?”

Minos rolled his eyes lazily, turning around to face Percy. He got in real close to his face; Percy’s arm shot out in front of you and urged you backwards, away from the vile ghost. “The maze is my property,” he hummed. Percy refused to back away. “Those who intrude on it deserve madness.”

Nico turned furious, whether at Minos’s lecturing, or his interrupting. Either way, he turned to the ghost and ran him through with his sword. “Go away, Minos! Leave us!” His voice turned sad and desperate, like he was tired of this too. “Bianca! Come on!”

It was heart-wrenching, watching Nico beg for his dead sister. It wasn’t fair.

But she’d heard him. Bianca came forth, a silvery wisp of light from the dark trees in the distance, growing closer. You didn’t feel wary of her, and Percy dropped his sword, Nico backed away to give her space, and Grover shuffled away from the edge as Bianca knelt to accept the offering in the pit. When she got to her feet, she was a solid hue of silvery-blue form, the image of herself in life. It was like the chatter grew quiet, the chaos turned silent, when Bianca smiled sadly at her brother. Nico had grown still, and pale.

He wasn’t the first one she spoke to, though. “Hello, Percy,” said Bianca, her voice like a lullaby. Her body flickered like the stars would, before it stilled.

“Bianca…” One look at Percy had you reaching for his hand, clasping it between both of yours. He was choked up. You didn’t blame him one bit—you hadn’t known Bianca well at all, and she’d killed herself in the process of saving you all, but even seeing her again like this had your throat burning. “I’m—I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for, Percy. I made my choice.” Somehow, she seemed older, calmer, and a whole lot more at peace, as if this didn’t phase her and her death was simply an article she’d read in a paper and let pass over her, at the back of her mind. “I don’t regret it, either.” Her eyes, a mirror of Nico’s own, fell on you. What did you look like to her, you wondered later? Holding back your own teary eyes the way Percy did.

She turned to face her brother quickly, and his name fell from her lips. She turned sad.

“Oh, Nico.” She raised a hand to cover her mouth. “You’ve gotten so tall.”

“Why didn’t you answer me any sooner!” He exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to find you for months!”

“I was hoping you’d give up, Nico. Please give up.”

Heartbroken, Nico reached for her, but his hand passed right through. “Give up?…I’d never!”

“I need you to do this, Nico. Trust Percy. Trust her.”

“No! She let you die! They’re not our friends!”

Bianca’s ghostly hand reached out to touch Nico’s cheek, but she fizzled out too quickly, and never made contact with him. “You must listen to me now, because this is important. Holding grudges is bad for children of Hades. It’s our fatal flaw, and you must forgive.”

“I can’t. I’ll never.”

Bianca struggled, exhaled. Her eyes betrayed every feeling in her body—anguish, anger, sadness. “Percy has been worried for you, Nico. I let him see what you were up to so that he could help you. You understand, don’t you?”

“It was you, then,” shuddered Percy. “You were sending me those messages.”

Bianca nodded softly. “I was.”

Nico demanded her attention. “No, listen!” He screamed and went to grab at her again. “Don’t help him! Help me! This isn’t fair!”

Bianca kneeled to be face-to-face with Nico. “You’re so close to the truth now, Nico. Believe me. It isn’t them you’re angry at; it’s me. And it’s okay to be angry, do you understand? You’re allowed to be upset—”

“No!” He heaved a great cry.

“You’re mad because I left you, to join the Hunters. And you’re so angry because I died and left you here. It wasn’t my intention, and I’m sorry.” Bianca’s voice turned thick with emotion. “But you must try to accept this, now. I cannot come back. And you must stay with them.” She nodded at you and Percy.

“I just want you back,” Nico sobbed. Bianca, on her knees, looked as if in a great deal of pain. She swallowed hard, and her voice was shaky.

“You can’t have that, Nico. This is how it has to be. And one day, we’ll be reunited again properly. Trust me. Believe in that. I’m never too far away, even when you can’t reach me. But for now, you have to let me go. Can you do that for me, Nico? You’re so strong…you’re so brave.” She turned suddenly to look over her shoulder at something the rest of you couldn’t see. “I must go now. Your powers are attracting unwanted attention. I have to go back.”

“Wait!” A terrible, pained cry ripped from Nico’s throat. “Please don’t go!” He heaved. “Please stay! Don’t leave me here!”

“I love you, Nico.”

You understand Bianca then, and her decision. It was why you dropped Percy’s warm hand and took up Nico’s cold, limp one. He heaved and cried, and didn’t protest when you lay your free hand on the side of his head, and gently pulled him to you. You raised your gaze from Nico’s teary, reddened eyes, squeezed tightly shut, to Bianca’s mirrored gaze. A single, shiny tear trailed down her translucent face, and you tried to convey one last message: Nico would not be alone.

She nodded slowly, and sniffled once. Getting to her feet, Bianca managed a sad smile, and lowered her eyes to Nico once more. He was the last thing she saw, as she trailed out of the mortal world for the final time. Bianca di Angelo simply faded away.

Just because she’d told him to trust you, didn’t mean he trusted you right away. That night, Nico sat out on the porch alone, talking to somebody that wasn’t there, crying to himself. You’d tried to talk to him, but had no luck. Nico demanded to be left alone, so you left him. When you returned two hours later, he’d fallen asleep on the bench, a hand tucked under his cheek. Percy dug out a blanket from one of the bedrooms upstairs, and you’d covered Nico over as the night air grew chilly. Your heart felt heavy, but the day’s trials didn’t prevent you from falling asleep quickly. The boys took the sofas downstairs, and you picked a spot at the bay window with a comforter and pillows. Sleep took you the second you laid down your head.

Your mother decided it was a good time to pop up and say hello, apparently.

You recognised the setting immediately as New York’s Public Library. Beyond the windows lining either two walls, the sky was black as could be, no stars or anything showing through. The lights and the slightly dusty chandeliers on the ceiling of the grand roof were golden, more yellow than usual, and the tables stretching the length of the hall were empty as could be, the dark stretch of tile down the middle aisle echoing your footsteps the further you walked.

At the end of the wall, standing beneath the clock small in the grand wall, was a tall lady, casual as could be in jeans and a pretty sweatshirt. This didn’t defer her from wearing a sword in a scabbard at her hip. Long, light hair was tied back in a practical bun, tight and secure. In her hands was a heavy book, and her brilliant gray eyes scanned it furiously. She didn’t look up from it until you’d paused at her side, peering up at the taller woman, admiring her. Strange, how the gods technically had no DNA, and yet you were her mirror image. The same jawline, the same nose, definitely the same eyes. She was pretty, really pretty, and she carried herself with confidence.

It would have been nice to be acknowledged, however similar you were.

“Mom?” You voiced into the quiet library air.

“Chapter eighteen of The Iliad—what do you know of it?”

You raise your eyebrows, curiously. “I don’t know off the top of my head, exactly. There’s a fight over Patroclus’s body, isn’t there? Real dramatic, like. They’re worried about going to fight the Trojans. Achilles worries about the outcome of Patroclus going out to join the fight.”

“Do you notice any similarities between this and our life?” She quips. Your mom huffed at something she read, and snapped the book shut. The cover was battered leather, the title almost rubbed away. It was old, but no dust rose from it.

You shrug, and feel somewhat nervous. “We’re history repeating itself?” You offer. “Is this to do with Bianca, last night? The fight over what happened to her, fighting over what she wanted for her end?”

Mom hummed, and threw the book over her shoulder. You had a sudden desire to catch it, but as you went to grab it, as it hit your hands, heavy as hell, it disappeared, as though she’d never thrown a thing. Your mother turned to watch you, bringing your brows together, spinning in a circle to look for this damn book like a stupid dog chasing its tail.

“The fight for life is always happening,” said mom, factually. “What happened to Bianca di Angelo was a negligible accident. She could have been saved.”

Frozen, you shakily exhaled. Gray met the mirror image.

“She could have been saved, but it was her destiny. You understand, don’t you, daughter? That what is meant to be is meant to be. So even though you could have saved her life one way or another, she was supposed to die.”

You scoff, and surprise yourself at the burning in your eyes. “People aren’t supposed to just die, mom. When their time comes, when they’re old, then sure. Not like this.”

“Was it not Bianca’s time? Who decides when it is right to die?”

“What’s the point of this?” You snap. “Did you bring me here just to take a dig at me?”

“Everybody has their time. I’m here to tell you to your friend that he should stop meddling in things. Leave things well alone.”

“Great advice. After we’ve sorted things. Bit late to the party.”

“Not entirely.” She tilted her head. “Before I go, just one thing—tell Percy Jackson to let the dead rest, when the time comes.”

“That’s ominous.”

“That’s life,” mom hummed. “I’ll let you go, now. The boy is trying to wake you up.”

When you come to, Percy is knelt beside you. Sunrise is in your eyes, and Nico is shouting downstairs. You gather your things, and prepare to make your way back into the maze.

—

TAGLIST

@bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore

@rottenstyx @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual

@marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol

@twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky

@emu281 @charlesswife @jessiegerl

@tojismassivemantiddies @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138

@obxstiles @mxltifxnd0m @cxcilla @itzjustj-1000 @sp00kcanwrite

@randomesthings @fratbrochrisgf

[inoreuct]

More weretiger Zoro thoughts bc I'm crazy abt it-

Before joining the crew, Zoros had a lot of bad experiences with ppl trying to kidnap/capture him, whether it be for his pelt or to keep as a pet or just to have as a spectacle. When bounty hunters come after the crew one day and somehow manage to cage him, it dredges up some bad memories. He fights the hunters off of course, hes stronger now, and has his friends by his side, but the encounter leaves him shaken. He tries to brush it off as nothing, stays in his tiger form so he has an excuse not to talk to anyone, but the crew can tell hes feeling uneasy, sulking around in the shadows, fur bristling at any loud noises or sudden movements. They hatch a plan, and lure him to the kitchen where its warmest, where theyve built a nest of pillows and blankets for everyone to curl up in together, and surrounded by his crew gently petting his fur Zoro feels a lot safer <3

ooh,,, weretiger zoro lore YES PLEASE 🤭 thank you for the ask anon!!

call it twisted, but zoro is used to running for his life. fighting for it. before everything (before safety, before them), people catching a glimpse of him could only mean three possible things: a leash, a cage, or a skinning knife. years of evading trappers and hunters and rich bastards who thought they could own him (dead or alive, they hadn’t really cared) had honed his survival instincts knife-sharp and taught him how to keep himself out of trouble. he’s ever only been in a cage once, and never again.

but he’s gotten lazy. his crew and the solace of their ship on the open sea— they had lulled him into a false sense of security. he’d let down his guard and now he’s looking out at the deck through metal bars with clammy palms and his throat tight, and it’s chaos.

there are bounty hunters fucking everywhere, like a swarm of roaches trying desperately to gain the upper hand; they had clearly overestimated themselves, based on the way his crew’s wiping the deck with them. a thrill of vindictive satisfaction threads through zoro even as a group of the bastards prod at him with bayonets and swords. that satisfaction only grows when he snaps at them, snarling and baring his fangs, but he can’t hide from the fear that pools underneath.

that, he isn’t quite so used to. fear is not something that roronoa zoro feels on a regular basis; he’d picked up his swords and turned himself into a weapon of a man, half out of necessity and half just for the way people pissed themselves just hearing his name. then it had been bar fights to duels to bigger bounties and then sudden safety, stability, Merry’s gentle rocking under his paws as he prowled the deck and then Sunny, afternoon warmth on his fur as he curled up on the grass to nap.

the roiling in his gut and the tension at the back of his neck is something zoro hasn’t known since he was very, very young, and weak, and alone.

he snarls again when the tip of a sword swipes a hairsbreadth under his chin, cursing himself for losing his focus as he backs up against the other side of the cage, resisting the urge to peek over his shoulder. the ocean rolls gently at his back; he can hear her, but it’s a small comfort. if he tips the entire cage into the water and fails to pick the lock, it would drag him down to a watery grave and he is not ready to die today. nami yells somewhere, her voice followed by a crack of thunder, and zoro bites down a manic laugh as he remembers her trying to teach him to lockpick and him being honestly quite dismal at it— not an option, then.

the cook had fared better at it, nimble fingers and all that. said cook goes flying past with his leg on fire and slams his heel into a bounty hunter’s face with a solid crunch. as zoro takes stock of the deck, everybody else is busy and that realisation doesn’t make him panic a little, it doesn’t. breathe, he reminds himself. they took his swords, but it doesn’t matter. he fights plenty well enough with his fists, not to mention the damage he can do in his other form.

one of the hunters bangs his rifle against the bars and zoro’s heart jumps, a shudder rippling down his spine as the man pspsps’s at him like— like he’s a fucking cat. “who would’ve thought,” he begins, laughing nastily. “roronoa zoro, the elusive green tiger. how’s it feel to be backed into a corner, hm?”

“all those years of stealing our bounties, taking all the money— don’t worry, now,” another sneers. “you’ll make it up to us when we get paid for the fur off your back.”

the disrespect makes him growl, deep in the back of his throat. he wants to rip off their heads. he wants to run away and hide. their cackles are loud and obnoxious, and the closer zoro looks the more he realises that he knows these guys. knows their faces, anyway, and he has those faces categorised in his head as nothing more than riffraff. he wraps his fingers around a bar discreetly by his hip, squeezing tight until he feels his claws extend, and cool metal presses into his back as his breathing comes quicker.

once before. he’d only felt this once before, icy against his too-thin fur, curled up in a trembling ball at the corner as jeers and the banging of metal on metal filled his ears. switching between boy and cub on instinct because he couldn’t control it with his heart pounding hard enough to hurt.

his gaze flicks around unseeing before he finds usopp, loosing rapid-fire shots of something that sends his targets into violent gasping fits, clawing at their throats before going still. the moment they lock eyes, zoro straightens; there’s a question there, a quiet moment of stillness as usopp holds his form, waiting. do you need us to come get you?

zoro steels himself, takes a breath and grits his jaw, and he shakes his head minutely. no.

a small nod, and that stillness shatters. usopp dives out of the way with his hands over his head and a startled yelp as luffy’s fist flies out of nowhere, and zoro sighs through his nose.

“not my fault i was just better than you,” he says, offhand and unbothered, tipping his head back against the bars as he surveys the hunters around him coolly. they react exactly as he expects; loud outrage and yelling and more clanging around, and he feels that urge to curl into a ball and hide shift into something more spiteful. more vicious.

it heats his blood as he notes the lock of the cage and nearly raises an eyebrow, because of course the whole damn thing’s made of reinforced metal except the latch. he’s seen enough of franky’s work to know shoddy workmanship— they skimped on quality because of the cost, probably because they’d planned to be dealing with a mindless beast and not a man. zoro huffs a laugh.

and sure, nami could try all she wanted to teach him how to pick a lock.

sometimes, though?

zoro inspects his space and backs up as much as he can. the cage is small, but it’s enough. he’ll make it work. metal scrapes against the taffrail as the ship rocks beneath their feet.

sometimes, old-fashioned’s just the way to go.

he crouches down, waits for one of franky’s cannon’s to draw the hunters’ collective attention, and pounces.

the door slams open as he rams it with his shoulder, cheap metal snapping like straw as he bursts onto the deck and fuck, the momentary standstill before the panicked scrambling starts feels electric. he shifts in an instant and yawns, prowling around the group of hunters, crowding then back against the cage as his tail lashes like a whip.

they’d just caught him off guard and coerced him into an enclosed area. fools. he melds back into his human form, eyes glowing gold as the wind ruffles his hair. “you should have collared me,” he chuckles, just the slightest bit cocky because please, he’s earned it by now. “maybe a leash. rope, at least. what the fuck made you think just caging a tiger was a good idea?” zoro flashes his fangs, bright white and lethal, and a man whimpers as his grin widens.

his footsteps are silent as he shifts back and stalks towards them. there’s a reason he’s known as the demon of the east, after all, and he thinks it’s due time to give the world a reminder.

*

“so…” usopp begins, fiddling with a short piece of rope. “who’s gonna address the elephant in the room?”

luffy looks around at the bounty hunters sprawled over the deck, all in various states of consciousness. “there was an elephant?”

usopp holds in the urge to sigh and drags a hand down his face. “tiger in the room. whatever.”

their captain tilts his head. “zoro’s not here.”

“exactly!” usopp exclaims, before he checks his surroundings and ducks his head to hiss, “exactly.”

“he’s probably off napping somewhere,” chopper offers, but even that doesn’t sound very sure.

the swordsman had disappeared after he’d shoved the group of mauled bounty hunters into the cage and bashed the lock in to seal it shut before chucking the whole thing into the sea. he’d stayed just long enough to watch it sink and then crept off somewhere— and he still hasn’t reappeared.

“oh— you know what he’s like.” nami rolls her eyes, perched on top of an upside-down crate, arms crossing as sanji squeezes her shoulder. “he’s fine. nothing shakes him.”

“you didn’t see the look on his face,” usopp shoots back, feeling strangely defensive. he knew what zoro was feeling, read it clear as day; he was intimately familiar with the kind of fear where you felt too small and too trapped to do anything.

he knows about zoro’s past. they all do. and the thought of zoro, fearless, larger-than-life zoro, undefeatable zoro, crammed into a tiny cage and getting poked at like a zoo animal? it makes something in usopp rankle so strongly it surprises even himself.

he startles as a gentle hand rests on his back. “i do believe our sniper’s right,” robin hums, leaning into franky’s side. “we should make sure he’s fine, don’t you think?”

there’s a general murmur of assent, and usopp leans back against the taffrail with a feeling that it’s gonna be easier said than done.

*

zoro doesn’t remember ever being this shaken.

he’d just been… numb, when he was a kid. not yet warmed up to the idea, the reality, that he’d be hunted just for what he was. after that numbness faded most of what he’d felt was rage; he’d indulged the instincts to hunt, to sink his sharp edges into muscle and viscera, until luffy had earned his loyalty and then the rest of the crew after him.

now he can’t stop feeling like he’s gonna tremble out of his skin, and he hates it.

it’s been days since the fight. he shouldn’t be affected. shouldn’t have been affected at all. but now without the adrenaline of battle, everything’s coming back crystal clear— the panic that had nearly choked him when the cage door swung shut, the sound of the lock clicking bouncing around his skull like a rubber ball. his own blood rushing loud in his ears, heart thumping a staccato against his ribcage, his eyes searching for someone, anyone, shoved back by the gritted statement that he didn’t need anyone to save him.

he hadn’t. he doesn’t. he shouldn’t.

and yet he hasn’t shifted in days, prowling the shadows of the ship on four legs, head ducked low and ears pressed down as he keeps his belly close to the deck. he tells himself he’s hunting for imaginary mice and jerks at every sudden noise. he’d let his guard down and then he’d payed the price and now it’s driving him mad; every creak and shift of the Sunny has him on edge, fur standing on end, and he hates it.

without his battle instincts, he’d have been stuck in that fucking cage. usopp had snapped him out of it a little— he’d made it out, but barely. the stupid metal box had been so small that if he’d shifted he wouldn’t have been able to move, and even now the thought of it makes him feel like throwing up.

the feeling of being locked up is not one that you can forget. bravado can only get you so far; he’d been a fool to think that being part of luffy’s crew offered him infinite protection, no matter how strong any of them are. he’s supposed to be able to handle himself, and he can. he can.

he hates this.

he’s been wandering aimlessly, strolling around without particular reason. his crew’s been trying to get him out of his funk; franky made him a whole new scratching post. sanji’s been leaving his favourite booze in the crow’s nest. brook had played jolly sea shanties for hours (and admittedly, zoro had felt terrible about just slinking off midway) and jinbei had tried to talk to him, but he gave it up when zoro just gave him a look. he knows they care, and he loves them for it, but he’s oscillating between wanting to go on a rampage and hide in a cupboard. the promise of safety still feels too good to be true after a refresher on what the rest of the world means for him. he knows he’ll have to get back to routine soon and he will, he just—

his ears prick up, and he pauses. listens.

“—arimo!”

he chuffs. it’s nearly midnight; what the hell is the cook calling him for?

“marimo! get your mossy ass in here now!”

and okay, wow. rude much. he wouldn’t put it past sanji (or any of his nakama, for that matter) to try another funky attempt at cheering him up, but on the off-chance that there’s actually something wrong…

he growls low in his chest, half-annoyed, padding around the corner and shouldering the galley door open.

he takes one look and turns around to walk right back out.

there are pillows and blankets piled everywhere on the galley floor, and the oven door’s open. the whole space smells like dark chocolate and cookie dough. zoro can’t do this.

everything after that happens in quick succession: he hears luffy laugh, he thinks oh no, and then he yowls as he’s grabbed and yanked into the midst of the massive pile of bedding. he flashes his teeth in a baseless threat, whipping around to hiss at his captain, but luffy just snickers and pulls back his arms.

he’s disgruntled even as the rest of his crew slot into place around him. it was a trap, and he admits he’s literally fallen right into it as he hears nami whisper, “told you he’d come if you called—” and then the sharp, mildly reproachful click of sanji’s tongue.

the cook turns to him, cross-legged with a pinstriped pillow hugged to his chest. “you don’t have to say anything,” he says plainly, eyes flickering to the side as he fiddles with a corner of the pillowcase. “or do anything, for that matter. just… stay.”

zoro stays quiet and lets himself look around. everybody’s in their pyjamas, smelling like soap and chocolate; franky has a nightcap on. luffy shoves a cookie in his mouth whole, and jinbei pretends that he doesn’t nudge the plate closer for their captain.

zoro doesn’t need them, maybe. but he remembers years of irregular sleep from watching his own back, stuck in his human form, always hyperalert and pushing for the next paycheck.

he’d been miserable before them. he really doesn’t need them— he can survive just fine on his own.

but that’s all it’d be, wouldn’t it? surviving. not living, not really. he doesn’t need them but he wants them.

it’s easier to admit than he expected. nothing changes. it’s no big revelation; just one that he’d been too afraid to acknowledge until now.

the anxious feeling in his stomach has settled some, and soft chatter starts around him as he lays down to rest his chin over his paws. after a while there are fingers in his fur— he allows it. if only just for tonight. let us help, is what he hears as he feels nami’s nails scrape gently between his ears, luffy playing with his tail, the warm wash of lamplight making sanji’s hair gleam dark gold. brook’s laughing quietly in the corner, and he can feel chopper’s chest rise and fall against his side.

sleep comes easily, for once. these people, his family— they make safety a little easier to believe.

[euphreana]

The Shape of Truth - Chapter 13: Reality

Masterpost

-

Ambrosius was in no shape to walk. The window glass had been sharp, and a jagged edge sticking from the frame had gouged his leg when he’d jumped to freedom. The hospital’s drugs had numbed it out too much for Ambrosius to realize it though - it had been Nimona who’d noticed the blood dripping down his calf after coming to a landing in an alley several blocks from the hospital.

“Ohhhhh shit.” Nimona mumbled as Ambrosius clumsily tore his shirt into shreds and tried to staunch the bleeding. “That’s going to need stitches.”

Ambrosius shook his head.

“I’ll be fine. Just get us out of here.” He tied a piece of his shirt tightly under his knee. The wound below just kept bleeding. Ambrosius focused on the wound with his mind. If this was a dream, he should be able to stop the bleeding himself. Right?

He focused until he felt Nimona tap his shoulder.

“Hey?” She tried to get his attention, “We need to keep moving.”

The wound kept bleeding. Ambrosius began to wonder if this wasn’t a dream at all.

Nimona shifted into what Ambrosius could only assume was her, but ten years older, taller, and stronger. She hefted him onto her back and carried him through a maze of alleys and maintenance tunnels until they’d gotten out of the city and arrived at what looked like an old repair garage. It wasn’t much - just a single stone room with old workshop equipment in it. It did have a kitchen and a musty old couch Ambrosius could rest on though, and right now that was what was important.

“This place is safe.” Nimona said, dropping him onto the couch, “I’ve hidden out here a few times and no one ever noticed. We can hide out here as long as we need.” She glanced at the blood-soaked fabric wrapped around his leg. “I’ll go get supplies. Wait here. Try not to move too much.” And with that, she was gone.

Ambrosius sprawled on the couch, a million thoughts still swirling in his mind. Was this a dream? It didn’t feel like it. His head was finally starting to clear for the first time in a week, and he still didn't know what was real.

He held his right hand in front of his face. He tried pushing his left finger through his palm - a method he’d heard of before to tell if you were dreaming. His finger remained firmly outside his hand.

He looked up. There was writing on a tarp stretched across the ceiling above him - not garbled text like dreams had, but full words spelling out the name of the manufacturing company.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself rising off the couch - something he’d done in dreams before. Nothing happened.

It was real; Nimona, the hospital escape, The Director’s guilt in framing Ballister… it was all real.

Ambrosius felt himself go limp, realizing the implications of the revelation. He was a fugitive. There was no other way to put it. He had no way of knowing who was in on The Director’s coverup and who was simply mistaken, and he didn’t have any friends he could trust. There was no one to turn to, nowhere to go. Anyone in their right mind would turn him in - not only had he attacked the head of state, but worse, he’d sided with Nimona, whom The Director had declared a monster.

A monster… Ambrosius couldn’t believe he hadn’t made the connection before. Leave out the bloodthirsty part and she fit the bill perfectly; an inhuman creature wanting to destroy society. Maybe the bloodthirsty part would come later. And now he was friends with it. Him. Gloreth’s child. Even if he could prove The Director had killed the queen, his reputation as a light for the kingdom had been tarnished.

Disappointed. He was so disappointed in himself. Things hadn't needed to go like this. He could have put Ballister’s sword back in the drawer and presented his evidence to someone else once he’d calmed down. He could have kept his wild tales to himself in therapy. He could have saved Ballister…

Ambrosius spent the next two hours agonizing over what-ifs and how he could have possibly done thing better. Finally, he pushed himself off the couch and limped to the kitchen for something to eat. If Nimona had stayed here before, there might be something left...

He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a shuttered window en route. He looked horrible. His hair was gone, the medication he’d been forced to take had made him lose weight and muscle, and there were dark patches under his eyes from stress. He was reminded of the prisoner from the movie Nimona had shown him; gaunt and dead inside.

There was a sound of someone kicking the front door. Ambrosius tensed.

“It’s me.” Nimona’s voice came. “My hands are full.”

Ambrosius limped to the door and opened it. Sure enough, Nimona was laden with supplies; bags hanging from her arms and slung over her back. Her hands held two cardboard cups.

“I forgot to ask for a tray.” She laughed as she entered, pushing one of the cups into Ambrosius’s hands. “I didn’t know what you’d want, so I got the stuff from before - Earl Grey, cream & sugar, or something like that. Right?”

It was supposed to be milk, not cream, but that didn’t matter. Ambrosius took a long drink.

“Exactly.” He said quietly, a slight smile spreading across his face.

Nimona unloaded supplies into the kitchen cabinets.

“So. I heard you attacked The Director. That’s pretty metal if you ask me.”

Ambrosius sat back down on the couch.

“She killed the queen.”

“Woah, WHAT?!”

Ambrosius told her about the sword and the paper with the email and password.

Nimona grinned.

“Look at you go, mister detective.” She closed a cabinet. “So we just need to get our evidence together so we can post it online, right?”

“There is no evidence.”

“Come again?”

“The invoice disappeared when they sent me to the psych ward. Probably trashed. The paper with the email is probably gone. And I never gave my email address to Meredith so she could forward me her copy of the emails. I’m not even sure if she’s alive anymore…”

Nimona put the last of the supplies away.

“So… what do we do now?”

“I don’t know… we should probably wait for things to die down at least. This little monster hideout looks like it could hold for a while.”

Nimona suddenly looked sullen. Ambrosius didn’t notice. He leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. The kingdom would probably be best off if he did nothing. The Director was a good authority figure, murderer or not. There was no public unrest, and life for everyone was going smoothly. Exposing The Director could upset all that. He didn’t want to be a fugitive for the rest of his life though…

Something large landed on his lap with a muffled ‘whump’.

“I got you clothes.” Nimona said from across the room.

Ambrosius took a look at the duffel bag on his lap.

“Are these… from my dorm?”

“I hope so. Otherwise I raided someone else’s room.”

Ambrosius gave a slight smile and pulled a shirt from the bag. It was one of his.

“How’d you carry this all out of there?”

“You know that guy who told you to take the day off?”

“Ironwill?”

“Yeah. Apparently he can go wherever he wants without people asking questions.”

That made sense. Ambrosius pulled the shirt over his head.

“Those monster powers do come in handy.”

“Don’t use that word for me.” Nimona snapped. When Ambrosius looked, she was staring daggers at him.

“What? Mon—”

“DON’T.”

“But… what else are you?”

“I’m Nimona.”

“Yeah but…” Ambrosius backpedaled, still trying to rationalize his choices, “It’s ok - you’re a good monster, right?”

Nimona was suddenly in front of him, fists clenched.

“Think about that word you’re using. Really think.”

“It’s just a word.”

“No. It’s this entire place. It’s The Director and the wall and Gl—” her voice broke and she turned away. A moment later, she was a fox running outside through an open window.

“Nimona!” Ambrosius limped to the window as fast as he could. “Nimona I’m sorry! I won’t say it again!”

Only the whistle of the wind answered him.

Next

[writingescapades]

The Third Adventure

A/N: Just reader being a badass again. Also me dealing with my perception on romance and relationships. You can read this as a stand alone or read the other Ayato fics for some context.

You waited inside Lady Kiku’s house, eyeing the wealth that exuded from every object. Lady Kiku belonged to a distinguished family within the Yashiro commission, and their dedication to the Kamisato family had clearly repaid tenfold. Ayato had introduced the lady to you as a possible client for your trades business. Lady Kiku specialized in elegant cloths that could be made into any type of clothes the wearer preferred. Certainly, her objects would be more pricey, but you knew there were many people who would pay triple for such finery.

Lady Kiku was an eminent lady and her dedication to her art clearly announced her as skilled weaver. However, her dedication consumed most of her focus. Sheltered since birth, she was unaware of what lengths her family, and now her husband, went to to support the Yashiro commission. You however, noticed immediately. In the five days you spent at the Kamisato house, you discovered that the house was armed to the core. Every object was a weapon disguised as decoration. The more objects a house had, the more weapons it hid. It was easy to notice, mainly because your family once did the same thing. Though you could not wield a sword like Ayato and Ayaka, that didn’t mean you had no means to protect yourself. You knew the plates Lady Kiku served dinner on were heavy enough to cause concussion, and you saw how many plants hid a small handle.

Had it not been for the actions of the Yashiro commission a few days ago, you would have placed your observations in a far corner of your mind. Ayato planned a raid on a local gang that was harassing merchants, scaring them into refusing to set up their stalls at the upcoming festival. Although Ayato spearheaded the attack, the mastermind of this plot was Lady Kiku’s husband. When Ayato returned to the Kamisato estate, you noticed the increased security and how you were almost always accompanied by someone, even within the house. Now you were at Lady Kiku’s house, alone. The anxiety of anticipating an attack did not leave your system, even as you smiled at Lady Kiku and discussed business with her. Your precaution did not go unrewarded.

As you discussed your terms with Lady Kiku, a sudden noise banged against the estate door. Lady Kiku slowly rose, but you shot out and peeked around the corner. Five armed thugs stood at the door, each figuring out a way to break the lock. You turned and looked at Lady Kiku. You saw the face of a woman who only knew how to make the world beautiful, and you understood that under no circumstances was this woman to sacrifice her life for a commission.

“What’s the fastest way to get into contact with your husband?” you asked.

“He, he informed me to put a specific lantern in the outer room. He said he would be able to see that light from a good distance,” Lady Kiku trailed off.

She ran to where she knew the lantern was and hurriedly ignited it. In all her life, she never had to use it once. The realization shook her. While she did that, you ran to the one spot Ayato cautioned you about. He told you that if you ever needed to hide, every family in the Yashiro commission had a bookshelf that led to a hide out. You had to move the books into a certain order to unlock the door, but the room inside was secure enough to keep you in until someone from the commission could get you out. Unlocking the door now, you grabbed Lady Kiku’s arm and tugged her towards the hideout. To your surprise, the Lady was resistant to the idea. Her adrenaline wore off and fear set in. She exclaimed that she had no idea what was happening, who these people were, or what her husband had gotten his family into. Curses of why she had to pay the price clamoured against the thuds of the men outside. You could tell that they had gotten inside and it was only a matter of seconds now. As you slammed the door shut, Lady Kiku yelped,

“My daughter is sleeping in our room”.

The room was in the back of the estate, and you two were in the front. You smiled reassuringly, said, “Nothing will happen to her,” then shut the door.

A shout came from your left and you ducked as you just made out a short blade coming for your head. You quickly reached for the nearest object, a vase, and smashed it against your attacker. The man fell. You yanked his short blade out and rammed it into the heart of the next attacker. As you made your way to the entrance, you saw a few men near the estate door and one coming straight for you on your right. You braced yourself and kicked the man back. As he stumbled back, you reached grabbed his hand, inverted his dagger, and pulled the attacker onto his own weapon. As he took in the shock, you grabbed his head and twisted, only letting go once you heard the confirming cracks.

The men now hesitated. They were armed and in plenty, but you had just killed three of them. Taking advantage of the situation, you lifted a western style chair and noticed the small blades jutting out from the chair legs. You ran towards the men and rammed the chair, digging the blades into the nearest attackers and pushing the rest back. Near the entrance, you saw more men arriving. Quickly dropping the chair, you ran back to a plant and pulled out a dagger. You flung it right into the eye of the closest attacker. As he dropped, a woman ran towards you with a long sword. You grabbed the first thing you saw, a standing lantern. Using the base as an extended shield, you charged at the woman allowing the lantern to bear the brunt of the woman’s attack. As she stumbled back a few steps, you flipped the lantern and rammed the candle into her face. Suddenly a flash came to your right and you dropped the lantern. Hot, burning sensations scorched up your right arm and you yelped in pain. You could make out blood. Before you could do anything, you were thrown against a wall and crumpled to the floor. The impact caused objects to shatter near or on top of you. You could hear footsteps and found yourself being yanked up by your hair. The fool. Suddenly the attacker loosened his hold on you, his eyes bugged out as you slowly rose, pressing your glass shard further into his neck. Backing the man against the wall, you eased his short sword out his hands and jammed it into his neck, then you turned to greet your next set of attackers.

...

Ayato and Ayaka ran towards Lady Kiku’s estate. Lady Kiku’s husband had run up to them frantic. He had seen her distress lantern. The siblings quickly inquired and received reports about a gathering of attackers, former members of the gang. It was impossible for Ayato to capture every single member of the gang given their numbers. That was why he kept security up for the entire Yashiro commission. After a weak passed and no attacks were made, Ayato relaxed a touch. Despite their reputation, the gang was not known to enact revenge after a long period of time. Yet he realized, as he and Ayaka ran towards the estate, that having no leader also meant rules and expected behaviours were not being followed anymore.

When the Kamisato siblings burst through the estate, armed, they saw a bloodbath before them. Bodies littered the estate and at the centre of it all, decked in blood was you. Ayaka widened her eyes, shouted your name, and was about to run towards you.

“Be careful,” you barked. “Some of them are only unconscious”.

Ayaka nodded and slowly made her way towards you. Ayato followed her.

“Lady Kiku,” Ayaka began.

“Is safe,” you assured her. You then told her about the child. Ayaka ran towards the back estate. She returned with a sleeping toddler and walked over to the bookshelf.

“Before you open the door,” you advised. “We should get this place cleaned up”.

...

It was Ayato who escorted you back to the Kamisato estate. It was Ayato who took you to his room, a secluded area where even the staff knew they could only enter if something was urgent. It was Ayato who insisted on drawing you a bath, leaving out clothes for you to change into. You slowly washed yourself, hissing as the hot water met bruised and bloody skin. Once clean, you exited to find Ayato waiting with a medical kit. He insisted on tending to your wounds himself.

“I take responsibility,” Ayato began.

“I made the decision to fight,” you interrupted. “I could have hid with Lady Kiku, but I chose to fight instead”.

“Yes, why did you choose to fight?” Ayato asked. The was a slight tone of annoyance in his voice. Exhausted by work, by the raid, and by the tense atmosphere as everyone awaited retaliation. He had expected to see your dead body upon arriving at the estate, a thought that unnerved him more than he cared to admit just now.

You shrugged. “Because I could”.

Ayato could tell from your voice and demeanour that there was more behind those words, but he was more concerned with your wounds just now. He tugged at your hand and urged you to sit down near him. Silence entered the room as he gently dabbed each wound on your arms and bandaged them, taking special care with your right arm.

“Do you have any wounds on your body?” he quietly asked.

You nodded. You had numerous cuts on your chest and back.

“Would you prefer if I got Ayaka or a female staff member?” he inquired.

“Would you prefer it?” you asked back.

Ayato hesitated, then shook his head. You turned around and loosened your clothes, his clothes you realized.

“Whenever I’m around you, my clothes always get ruined,” you grumbled as you dabbed at your chest.

Ayato flatly chuckled, understanding your attempt to lighten the atmosphere. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to experience joy. Not when he saw the numerous marks on your back, many of which would leave scars. By the time you were bandaged up, your entire torso was covered. Before you could cover yourself once more, Ayato stopped you. He got up and sat in front of you, gently pulling the kimono over you, taking care to keep it firm but loose over your bandages. Then he hugged you.

“I don’t know what to say or what to feel, but thank you,” he whispered into your hair. Thanks for standing up for yourself. Thanks for protecting others. Thanks for holding on till he got there. Thanks for making it out alive. Thanks for still allowing you to be in his life.

He knew he should have let you go after that, let you lie down. But he could not let you go just then. Instead he found himself gently placing you down on his bed, while he laid next to you. His arm covered your torso, keeping him near you.

“You got a lot of nerve to take me to bed, Kamisato,” you whispered. “You’re not even my lover”.

You kept a pleasant tone, but Ayato could make out a trace of unease by his sudden behaviour. You watched him, even as he gently drew his thumb across your jawline. Love was an unfamiliar feeling for Ayato. He honestly did not know what it meant to be in love. Everyone seemed to have their own understanding. He couldn’t confidentially say he loved you, and yet.

“Stay,” he whispered, not fully understanding how long he wanted you to stay.

“Why?”

“You make life fun again”.

A childish response, from a childish man. You saw how excitement bubbled in his eyes during the five days you stayed at the estate. The pranks, banter, riddles, and laughs you shared at night working while no one else was awake. You enjoyed eliciting such an automatic response in a man known little beyond his title. You would not have accepted any other answer from him.

Watching the man beside you, fast asleep, exhausted from the events of the past few days, you scoffed at the words of the poets. The grandeur they went to describe love. None of their descriptions and words ever resonated with you. You did not know if you loved Ayato, and you were relieved that he too found such an emotion to strong for whatever bond you created. You sighed, feeling the day’s exhaustion creep up on you. You moved your hand and laced it with his.

“Good night buddy”.

[bugsy-maria]

This is how its supposed to end, always has been...

A/N: not to have a cliche authors note but sorry for the late update but my Grandma and hedgehog died so I wasn't home like at all to upload and proofread this writing but know that it was finished on time :)

Pairing: Doctor x Reader

Chapter 1

The room had been covered in a thick fog that can only be best described as one of the clouds that you once looked up at in the night sky. The very same cloud you had seen time and time again whenever you snuck out to go stargazing under the deep abyss you at some point in time connected to your home. But now that sky is gone, now your home is gone, now that cloud is gone but somehow it followed you across the stars. Across planets, across galaxies, across the universe.  

You never had asked for much; you just wanted a way back, and by the looks of the situation, you were going to lose that dream too, just like those stars, and that home, and that night.  

“One day I’m going to dance across the stars.” 

You always had the habit of sneaking out, especially with a little boy who had gone to the same school as you. The only problem was that he had been more in touch with reality than you, even if all he wanted to do was run away.  

“Why would you want to do that? You could die and no one will be able to find you!” 

He always cared too much, and maybe that was why you were drawn to him. He was all that you needed to realize that you weren’t alone in this massive game of living and dying, of being successful and being a failure. He was that fine line between being alive and living for you, and you knew just from meeting him for the first time that you would never let him go.  

“Have you ever seen people dance? They move with such grace, just gliding across time and space with that one person that means more than any minute or planet can mean to them.” 

You had seen bad things before, and since then you hadn’t been the same. Always in that cloud and never on the ground. Too caught up in the dream of being a part of something more. And so, you were. You were a part of something more. Yet you yearned for something worth more than any minute or planet.  

“Who would you dance with?” 

“Someone special.” 

The dreamy look in your eyes wasn’t ever unusual but you never looked at others with those eyes when in a conversation. Talking keeps you somewhat grounded, not quite having the grass wrapped around your skin, but not quite engulfed by a murky cloud of some other world. 

Now it seemed as though that day had been lost from within that cloud for the entire duration of your life. The stone under you had been growing colder to the point where it felt like water had been pooling from the ground around you. You had known it was supposed to end like this, even in your bardo-like state. It ended like this for everyone you knew. Well not exactly everyone, I mean not everyone dies on the other end of the universe from where they grew up, you had known a few that died from plague, a few from sword fights gone wrong, and even one unfortunate day where a close friend of yours had gotten a boulder thrown on 'em.

Despite this, however, you had dreamed this wasn’t how it was supposed to end. You quite enjoyed the possibility that you could change destiny, and in many situations you had. Still, it ends the same way.  

You watched everyone you knew die the same way (gruesome). Except for that one boy. You saw him just a couple of days ago. Those eyes looking back at you as you make yet another problem for him is burnt into the back of your eyelids. Every blink has that look of disappointment. That look of sadness, and that look of loss. It's almost as though he was sad at what you had become. But that did not matter now. What mattered was the escape plan you must create to survive. To escape whatever sentence destiny had written for you.  

Why can’t you do that? Just do that, it is not that difficult! Just get out of your head for one second and figure out how to survive this! It is not that hard! Please! Just survive this! 

Your hands scrape at the metal walls in hope of at least some type of grip to pick yourself up. The blood that drips out of you is fast, faster than you had ever run in your entire life. You had been running your whole life, to a point where-

You are doing it again. Get out of your head! 

Your feet trudge against the stone floors, one hand grasps the wall for dear life while the other is placed on your wound for stability. Or placed on the wall for stability and grasping your wound for dear life?  

You are slipping. 

The only motivation you have is that sky, that boy, those eyes that shine like stars but laced with fear. The adventures you could have had if you had just been thinking about him to, it’s taken you to be at the brink of death to realize that he had lost his home too. It wasn’t just you. You should have gotten out of your head.  

Look up at a sudden noise being created down the hall. You see just the person you had wanted to be. The smoke in the halls is getting heavier signaling that the fire has spread closer to you. That did not matter to you though as you were right there. Right where you needed to be, and so was he. The light shining from the new home you had created with him was right in front of you.  

Just a couple more steps and you are right there with him, that is all you need. Just a few more steps and you would have officially cheated death.  

You never cared for many people, but that boy was one of the few that managed to slip through the cracks. You had followed him since you saw him for the first time, and you would continue to do so till you’d reached the end of the universe together. The only problem is that he would never do the same for you.  

When you saw him for the first time on Earth after you got sent there, he was with this blonde girl, and he looked at her as though she was the single most important thing in any universe. You used to think that he would never be able to feel that way for anyone because the only person he was comfortable talking to was you and when you became lost you just assumed that he would become completely closed off, but this didn’t seem to be the case. Anyone with eyes could see that he was in love with that girl and that she was infatuated with him as well.  

They were at a shopping center together and you couldn’t help but want to run up to him. The only thing that stopped you was that one smile he used to only give you, just this time it wasn’t for you but instead for her. Your heart couldn’t accept this, so to keep yourself from any more heartbreak you walked away and back to the place you have grown to live in.  

You would call this shack your home, but it lacked any and all emotions that went with having a home. It lacked the feeling of love and care, that feeling that you had only felt momentarily in your life before you had gone and messed everything up again. That feeling you knew you may never have again. 

The image of that boy, now a man, with that girl now filled your mind, and for days after, your every waking moment. That feeling of care that you hadn’t felt since you were a child starts to remind you of the hole within you that you had to ignore.  

The pain reawakened something in you, a feeling that you didn’t quite know of yet but the people around you had called it love. The sweaty palms, increased heart rate, the giddy feeling that showed through that smile you couldn’t quite contain on your face were all things that the humans on earth called love. You know that you can’t let this feeling go, what will happen if you do? 

Turns out you can’t cheat death when death wasn’t playing the game you thought it was playing. You thought death was just going to make you die, you didn’t think it would be a fun game, but it was a game, nonetheless. But death was playing a game where he dangles the last option in front of you as you limp to your presumed safety. He then took it away and watched as you lost the last thing you had left in your life. Yeah, not a fun game, but a game, nonetheless. 

And that’s what he did. He took the last ray of hope you had left. That light dimmed and so went the man you had been in love with, and he would never know. Would it be best if he did know or if he remained ignorant to the desperate pleas of something more coming from your eyes. Pleas may be the wrong word for it as your eyes seemed to scream the words, “Please just love me back!” but he never noticed.  

His eyes on the other hand had recited the name of every person he had watched die. All the people he killed, as the only death he ever saw was the death he caused. You saw what his eyes said, but he always thought You were lost in your head when you looked at him. And you were, just not in the way he thought you were. You were lost in him and all that he was breathing, You were in the clouds, but that cloud was now him. A bright cloud of warmth was now a fading memory as he walked away from You with a copy of the blonde girl.  

It wasn’t her, she got lost quite a bit ago, but any girl he picks up to travel with starts to look like her. The same look in their eyes, the same expression when he shows them a new planet, and a completely different expression when he starts to go on and on about the history of the atmosphere of the Phythoria planets at 200 mph. They all looked like her and he looks the same at them the same way that he looks at you. It's not fair that you’re the only person he can now be with, but he doesn’t want anything to do with you. It's just not fair. 

Just like how it's not fair that he is leaving you like a stray dog that he got bored with because of that new dog that follows him just as happy as you once had. The bumps of your spine painfully slide down the burning metal wall as the smoke blanketed a new cloud over you. A cloud where you can’t see that man leave anymore, only the hue of the disappearing TARDIS.  

But that hue was soon replaced with a brighter light of fire that in only a matter of minutes would have you all to itself. The burning in your side hurt less and less as the sweet burn of the black ash crept up your nose and into your airways. Mimicking the same burn that you felt when you first realized your feelings for that runaway man. 

You could cheat death one more time by making him think that he has you under his boot but really you planned him to do that which is why you have a teleporter on your wrist that will put you back on the TARDIS with that man you love. That’s why he left you, it's because he knew that you would be able to save yourself. He knew that you were strong enough to survive. And then you can run away again and travel to the stars. You can have that one last dance with him on different planets and different time periods and then you can finally be with him under those stars one last time.  

You can tell him that you love him, and he loves you too and then you can just hold each other until you lose track of time and space and a sense of being. Because in that moment you both will mean more than a minute, more than a planet to each other. 

Yeah, you are slipping.  

[nethhiri]

Siren Charms: Chapter 14

Zoro x Siren!Reader

Warnings: none

They Make An Ass Out Of U and Me

Franky lowered his shades and one of his eyebrows arched. Robin just smiled. Zoro stared at you with furrowed eyebrows, trying to figure out the other possibilities. 

"Then what the hell are you?!" He put down his beer and rested his hand on his sword hilt. "And why did you lie?"

"Zoro, relax. She didn't lie." Robin said. "We assumed the most likely explanation." 

"You like a vampire for real or somethin?" Franky asked.

"Nah they only drink blood." You paused. "I eat...I do more." You added. "I mean I can do more, but I... try really hard not to." You avoided looking anyone in the eye. You knew that was pretty frowned upon with humans. You took Robin's book and opened to the page you were looking at. "I'm this. I think so anyway. I can't read these letters." You looked pointedly at Zoro, who looked just a touch guilty. Then you looked at Robin so she could read it to you. 

"Siren." Robin grinned. 

Franky and Zoro both leaned to look at the page.

"But don't read the rest because it's probably full of lies," you scoffed. Humans loved to conflate you with mermaids.

"So where's your tail?" Franky pointed at the picture in the book.

"Damn. You can't just ask that." You made a disgusted face. "That's so rude."

"Oh shit. Sorry, little mama. My bad."

"No. I'm just kidding." You teased. "I switched forms a lot today though so I'd prefer not to do it again. It takes a lot of my stamina and that's also why I have to eat a lot." You finished the rest of the beer in your mug. 

"Wow you can almost keep up with Zoro," Robin nodded to your empty mug, and took it for a refill.

The three of you chilled on the deck for some time while the others were chowing down on octopus fritters. You got agitated when you heard the fish riders in the distance, though it turned out they only wanted to thank the blond one for some bizarre reason. You had ditched your wings with the intent of diving after them, but Luffy assured you there was no need. Soon after that, everyone came back on the deck of the Sunny, discussing the next steps in getting to Fish-Man Island. You really didn't care about that so you wandered around the ship, exploring parts that you hadn't gotten to before. You watched the fish swim in the aquarium for some time. It was fairly large. Maybe part of it could be converted into a room for you. Though you would hate to be stuck in your 'mermaid' form for an extended period of time. 

You found yourself in the crow's nest, probably attracted there by the strong scent of Zoro. He wasn't there now. You picked up the weights he normally used and were dumbfounded by how heavy they were. For a human, that was damn strong. Since you were up here already, and bored. You decided that maybe you should work out. You couldn't be flying or swimming all the time like you were used to and needed to keep those muscles strong. You grabbed the bar with weights on either end and sat on the floor. Rolling your body on your back and tucking your legs under the bar, you balanced it on your feet. It was like you were squatting the bar but on your back instead of on your feet, basically a vertical leg press. Your hands were behind your head and you yawned. You could do with a little more weight. 

"That's an interesting way to do that." 

You sat up quickly, catching the bar in your hands and setting it on the ground. "Sorry. I should have asked." You were annoyed with yourself that you hadn't heard him come in. 

"Nah it's for everyone." Zoro had a bottle in his hand. "I didn't come up here to workout anyway. Too noisy down there." 

"Are they still fawning over that silly mermaid?" 

"You sound jealous."

You scoffed. "I'm not! It's annoying that people are so enthralled by the world's most sub-par sea creature!" A growl rumbled in your throat. "They aren't strong. They aren't particularly smart. They're fast; I'll give them that. But not faster than sirens. And they can't even walk on two feet until they're older." 

"You can't really be mad about it since people think sirens are myths." 

He had a point. That didn't mean you had to accept it. You frowned and glanced at his bottle. "Gimme some that." He handed it over and you took a swig before handing it back. 

"Oi if you're gonna drink that much, get your own." 

"You're not very nice. I'm a lady. You should get it for me." You stretched out seductively.

"Tch. You're better off trying that on Sanji." Zoro rolled his eyes and tilted his head back with another drink. 

You disappeared down the hatch for longer than anticipated. When you returned, you had as many bottles as your arms could carry. You sat on the opposite side of the room and placed them next to you.

"How did you get that many!?"

"I tried it on Sanji." You smirked, grabbing one and popping the top off.

Zoro grumbled, "Of course."

"What's your problem with the blonde one? You don't seem to like each other much."

He sneered. "He thinks he's better than me and he's not. I'm way stronger than him and I'm the one that's going to make Luffy King of the Pirates."

"So Sanji is your mermaid." 

"Never put it like that again."

It wasn't much longer before Zoro ran dry. He was eyeing your stash. You leaned against the wall and took long, languid drinks from one of the bottles, waiting to see how long it would take him to ask you for some. You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

He cleared his throat. "Do you think I could... have one of those?"

"So the guy that wanted to cut my head off earlier and wouldn't share his booze wants a something from me now?" 

"I shared!" 

"One sip."

"You eat people! How am I supposed to know you won't turn on us at any second?! It's my job to protect the crew!"

"Because I promised Luffy I wouldn't."

"And that's supposed to be good enough? Only your word?"

"It's good enough for Luffy." You knew he was making a sound argument. But you were still irritated by his questioning and distrustful nature. Everyone else accepted you immediately. You angrily rolled a bottle over to him. "Drink up, asshole. Maybe you won't feel anything when I eat your ass." You excused yourself from his presence, snatching a few of the bottles to take with you.

Zoro couldn't stop himself from yelling after you as you climbed down, "You're not eating anyone's ass and especially not mine!"

Of course that phrase was lost on you and Luffy, but everyone else that happened to be on deck burst out laughing. 

Nami could barely peak she was laughing so hard, "Wow what you guys doing up there?"

"Speak for yourself!" Sanji yelled back to him.

Usopp and Chopper covered each other's ears.

Zoro slammed the hatch shut and laid flat on the floor, red faced. That damn woman. He wasn't about to live that down any time soon. At least you left him a few bottles. Why did he feel guilty about making you mad? He was right. He was just doing his job. He could sense the predatory nature in you. It wasn't unfamiliar to him. He had a similar energy about him when he fought. He had noticed that you tried to suppress that part of yourself when you were around everyone, he assumed for their sake, but maybe you were really trying to fit in better. 

He had been watching you carefully since you first showed up. On laundry day, he watched as you tried to wear clothes Nami let you borrow. He had warned you that she would have your head if you ruined them. He watched you stand perfectly still until your own clothes were clean again, not realizing that she wasn't actually going to rip your head off. You didn't know better. Nami seemed very scary when she yelled. He watched during meal times, when you and Luffy stole off each other's plates when the other wasn't looking. He watched you fall out of the tree you had been sleeping in, and then look around to see if anyone saw. He watched you scramble out of the interior and take a defensive position when Usopp was vacuuming. Then he watched Usopp chase you with it, happy to have found something to defend himself if you ever decided to 'have an Usopp sandwich'. He watched you practice with your sword after everyone else was asleep. He had to stop watching that, however. The urge to correct everything you did was too strong.

He had even watched you when he had come to the crow's nest earlier, fascinated by your strength. You could easily lift as much as he could. Your thighs were deceptively muscular. They were big, but not big enough to warrant that much strength. He had avoided talking to you any more than he had to. When he did finally have a conversation, he enjoyed the banter before he ruined it by insulting you. And of course he could see that you were pretty. Anyone with eyes could see that. It didn't matter at all to him since he had no time for trivial things like hooking up, though he hadn't put much thought into it before. Nami and Robin were also very pretty, but Nami was basically a sister and Robin was more of a weird aunt. 

Zoro sighed to himself. He didn't want to, but an apology was probably warranted. If he didn't do it of his own accord, Nami would yell at him, and like you, he thought she was scary when she yelled. He would do it tomorrow though. He was too tired now. To punctuate that, he yawned. 

Next

Tag list: @bbnbhm

[samuelroukin]

Anyway, just felt bad excluding PriceGaz. Plus AO3 is down so I got time. You should picture Gaz with Elliott Knight's Sinbad hair btw, since knights and such:

John is in the storeroom, for the fifth time, as if the mice are going to make a grab for the wine bottles. The last three thefts of those have been his own men, once John himself.

He feels the door, and the heavy gaze, and knows before turning it will be Kyle there, only half-looking into his eyes. There's a careful reproach there, wary of being too direct. John has, then, failed to be subtle about avoiding him.

With Ghost and Soap gone to Rouen, it's just them now. Will be for weeks, likely months. He hasn't stopped Kyle's training, made sure he's seen to, and puts in the expected appearances. It's just elsewhere he's made himself scarce. He hasn't gotten away with it.

He holds the bottle in his hand, lifting and falling. He should say something, get ahead of it. Use one of the excuses he thought up for this. He doesn't.

"Have I displeased you in some way?" Kyle asks, bracing and quiet, looking up through those lashes. That's the problem. Kyle pleases him entirely too much. He's too beautiful, too tempting. He'll be a good knight, already is, burning with potential to be so much better. It's John that's the problem here.

"No," he says, and lets it hang. Lets the bottle hang, too, loose and tapping against his thigh. Kyle's eyes flicker to it and back. If he was one of the others, or just if they were here, Kyle would joke about it, taking it for themselves. As it is, he's probably wondering if John is going to hit him with it. Shame burns in him, deep and familiar. He has failed his oaths, before and likely later. He failed Simon, and now he tends the Ghost. And he has lost himself in the other possibilities lurking in Kyle's strong arm, his dancing form, so lithe even when he hefts a sword as he twirls. He's a disgrace, really. Should have resigned his command years ago.

"I am sorry," John adds into the silence, losing the battle. He pulls the cork, and a swig, and holds it out to Kyle. He drinks delicately, plump lips just grazing the glass where John left his prints.

Then he hefts it, testing the weight, and looks at him consideringly. He holds it out and when John goes to grab it, Kyle streaks a hand under his outstretched arm, brushing around his middle. It's a clever sort of touch, one John could ignore. Or not.

His hand, always grasping, closes over it, pressing Kyle's palm flat to his skin. It's low enough that Kyle can probably feel growing warmth, the quickening of his pulse. He shouldn't. They really shouldn't. He just wants to. He's just not sure Kyle does.

"You do not have to. Ever. I would not ask this of you, or demand-"

"I know," Kyle says, certain. Like John was, when he was that young, that newly knighted. It's a thing that's lost with time.

John licks his lips, and waits.

Then warm and sure, Kyle closes the distance and brings them together.

OOOOH hell yes 👀 thank u for blessing me again 🙏 also this: "He shouldn't. They really shouldn't. He just wants to." yeag. good shit

[unoislazy]

‘Til The Caged Bird Sings

(Part 2)

Mizu x Mixed! Fem! Reader

Content Warning: Contains violence and mentions of SA

————————————————————

Mizu stared at the blood left on the floor, her entire body trembling in fear and anger as the possibilities of what could’ve happened to you zoomed through her head. She shook her head to snap herself out of it, if something had happened to you then she would only have a certain amount of time to get to you before the situation would be made worse. Mizu looked around for anything that might’ve been left behind by the idiots who thought it a good idea to mess with you of all people. The last thing she had found was a torn piece of clothing which just so happened to have a crest on it.

It was a symbol she had seen before but she did not know the name of the gang.

What Mizu did know was that they were known for their careless assassinations, the trafficking they partook in, and their want to take out anyone who they deemed to be too ‘impure’.

She had never run into them personally but she had assumed they had been hired by someone to get to you… but why now? After all these years?

And why would they go after you?

She felt guilty for not being there to save you, she could’ve stopped this from happening if she had just stayed by your side.

Now wasn’t the time to get stuck on the ‘what ifs’. She had a chance to save you, so she needed to act now. She quickly dawned her old disguise, the one that she hadn’t used in years. She never needed to, she was comfortable enough around you to not hide who she was. She put on the old yellow tinted glasses, tying her hair up in the old hairstyle she used to put it in, her loose clothing disguising any part of her that might’ve been considered feminine. Lastly she put her wide brimmed hat on and grabbed her sword, giving one last look at the extremely messy house before embarking on her quest to find you.

She might not have known who exactly had you, but she at least knew where to start.

Mizu traveled by horse from town to town, eventually making her way to a town that was a bit of a ways away from your home village, the only thing she could focus on was the anger that continued to flow throughout her. Ever since she had met you, you two had never been apart for more than a few hours at a time, and even then you were no more than a two minute walk to the other partner. Mizu couldn’t help but be clingy, she had gotten so used to every single person who had a role in her life leaving her at one point or another and she feared that you would do the same, so she never left you alone. She enjoyed your company, she appreciated how you treated her, she loved doing things with and for you, she loved you. She loved you with every part of her heart. She didn't think it would be possible for her to ever truly claim that, but you gave her a feeling no one else had ever done.

You accepted every part of her just as she had done for you.

She was happy with you.

She especially loved when you two would just spend time under the stars together, whether you sat in silence or you would share your secrets with each other, it didn’t matter to her. One of her favorite memories with you was the day she had actually realized she had feelings for you. She denied it hysterically but she remembered the exact moment it hit her.

You were just doing your own thing, minding your business and working as you often did, before you had gotten up claiming you were going to go wash off in a water source that wasn’t too far from the house. At the time, Mizu didn’t pay much attention to you, she was more focused on just gettin healed and continuing on her journey but what had caught her attention was how you looked as you walked back through the doors of the house.

You were mostly covered up but that didn’t matter considering she was more focused on your face. You were still drenched, the water droplets left from your time in the water slowly dripped down your face and down to the uncovered parts of your body. Your hair was a bit of a mess, it stuck to your face haphazardly but your hands had gently brushed it away. Mizu was staring and she was staring hard. She couldn’t take her eyes off of you and despite her several attempts to, her eyes always found a way to wander back over to you. Her attempts only continued to fail as she tried her best to act like she didn’t even notice you had re-entered the room.

The way she had felt in that moment confused her but it also managed to get under her skin by a significant amount. After all, desire was beyond the need of her purpose, she needed to stay focused and continue with what she had set out and vowed she would do. She had been so consumed by the ideas of bloodshed and death that even the thought of settling down was something she wanted to avoid all together, but you had shown her that she was more than the sword she held, she was not a demon, she was a person just like anyone else.

Mizu looked back at that memory with a slight fondness, although it was quite an awkward moment for her, it was the exact moment she realized she was changing. For better or worse she couldn’t tell at the time, but now she knew it was for the better. Just because she had made that vow didn’t mean she always wanted to be seen as a bloodsoaked monster, all she wanted was to be looked at and not regarded as a devil.

Her horse continued to gallop over the grassy terrain as she held on, wandering if she would even get to you in time. She continued to wonder if she had taken too much time, she worried that once she had gotten through whatever amount of security they had, she would be too late. She didn’t want to lose you, she had lost everyone else that had come near her and she would rather die by her own hand than let something like that happen to you.

By the time she had arrived in the town it had gotten very dark. The place she had gone to wasn’t exactly familiar to her but she would have to start somewhere. She went over to one of the first men she saw, holding out the piece of fabric and asking,

“Do you know where I can find this group?”

Was it the best course of action, no of course not, but she was acting with haste. Usually when she was set on something she at least had the time to set out some sort of plan, but usually… your life wasn’t on the line.

The man that she had gone up to shook his head, claiming “I don’t want any trouble.”

and walked away. So Mizu went up to the next person, and the next but she had still been met with the same answer. There was no guarantee that this random town she had stopped at was going to have any answers but she had to at least try. At the very least she knew she was headed in the right direction.

Mizu tried one more person before she was ready to give up and move to the next town.

“Do you know where I can find the owner of this crest?” She asked, to which the woman looked down at the crest, then back up at her. She looked around her very quickly before silently nodding. Finally, a lead.

The woman beckoned Mizu to follow her into a more secluded area, and despite her better judgment she followed. She needed any help she could get, regardless of how sketchy the task to get it would be. The woman, now standing just before Mizu leaned towards her a bit, whispering, “They have a gambling house at the edge of town, rarely anyone goes there anymore out of fear of losing their money… or their life.” The woman informed her.

Sounded like every other gang affiliated house, just as powerful and unrelenting to the people around it too, considering the woman's skittishness. She must have had a run through with them at some point. She was lucky to have made it out alive by the looks of it.

“They’ve started attacking other villages, going out of their way to take out anyone they see fit. I don’t know what business you have with them, but if you value your life you’ll let it go.” The woman warned.

Mizu, of course, paid no mind to this. Her business wasn’t something she could just walk away from. She thanked the woman, beginning to walk away from her before the woman called out to her,

“Please reconsider! If they catch you, they won't stop even if you beg and plead for mercy!”

If anything, these words had the opposite effect on Mizu. It gave her even more motivation to hurry along with rescuing you. It had already taken long enough getting to this town, she didn’t want to take anymore time than what was needed.

Mizu made her way towards the edge of town, passing by the townspeople who stared as she passed by, each look given the same warning. It seemed to be silently agreed upon that past a certain point in the village, once you set foot there you weren’t coming back the same. You might come back alive, but you certainly wouldn’t be recognizable. She continued on, her face was stoic and emotionless, she could’ve fooled anyone if she had told them she was fine. However, under the surface she felt as if she was going to burst into flames. She felt as if her anger was clawing at her skin, eager to burst out and wreak havoc on anyone unfortunate enough to be near her, but she knew she had to keep her cool…

For now, at least.

Mizu kept herself hidden as she walked towards the gambling house, the entire place littered with guards and men who one could assume were there to waste their life away. She waited patiently, taking some time to memorize the movements of the guards before realizing they had left a small area uncovered. All she needed was to get inside, then all hell would break loose. Before making any moves, she first dropped anything that was unnecessarily clunky for a mission that would require a great deal of stealth. She took off her hat, her cape, the weights she wore on her arms and legs, and even her glasses. She needed to be able to perform as carefully as she could if she wanted to get you out safely, if you were even in there at all.

With as much stealth and agility as she could manage, Mizu made her way to the only unmonitored corner of the building. The grass made a very soft noise under her feet as she approached, they had boxes placed along the outside that she used to hoist herself up and grab onto the ledge. Once onto the ledge, she looked around for any opening she could find before someone would come around the corner. Luckily, one of the many doors that lined the outside was left even the slightest bit open, just enough for Mizu to squeeze herself inside.

Once inside she took note of her of surroundings, she seemed to be in someone's room. Luckily for her, no one was occupying it at the moment but there was a light coming from the other side of the wall. Someone was standing guard.

Why stand guard to an empty room?

She looked up, noticing the open spacing above the rooms, perfect for her to easily see everything happening from above. As she made her way up though, she could clearly hear some men laughing from another room over. They were the ones the guard was protecting.

She listened in, hoping one of them might have something important to say. As the laughter died down she could hear one of the men ask a question,

“So why’d you go after the demon in the countryside?” He asked, still partially laughing at whatever had been said beforehand.

“I would hardly call that snake a demon but you know what we do to the impure, one of my men had heard talk of one living just outside of Mihonoseki.” He gloated.

That’s where you lived.

They were talking about you.

Mizu waited a moment to hear what else they had to say before she would lose control.

“We were going to kill her like the rest, but my men deserved a bit of a treat every once in a while don’t you think?” He laughed and the rest laughed with him. Some of them even let out verbal cheers in agreement as they continued to share their food and drinks amongst each other.

These men… they stole you from Mizu and thought nothing of it.

They took you from her just to prove themselves better than the other.

They took you from her just to toss you around as if you were nothing more than a dirty kitchen rag.

Well that would be the last mistake they would ever get to make.

She had heard enough.

Mizu dropped down in the middle of the room, no longer caring about stealth or secrecy. The men all jumped back in shock, staring at what they assumed to be a man standing before them before drawing their blades.

“Who are you?” One of them asked, as if it even mattered.

“Where is my wife?” Was all she responded with, her eyes practically stabbed daggers in any of the men that she looked at. The one man, who she assumed was the leader of the gang, paused for a moment before erupting in laughter.

“You’re the one who's married to that half blooded demon? It all makes sense now!” He continued to laugh,

“No one wants a demon, so the two of you had to marry each other… How sweet.” He mocked, his demeanor exuded confidence, but his eyes held fear. He knew he had made a mistake but he’d be damned if he backed down now in front of the rest of the men.

“A pretty little singer she is, your wife I mean. Too bad after my men had their way she didn’t have the energy left to sing.” He bragged, causing some of the other men to snicker amongst themselves.

That was it, that was the last straw. Without even giving the men time to blink, Mizu drew her sword and attacked one of the six men that surrounded her. In a matter of seconds he fell to his knees, blood spilling out from his neck like a waterfall. The other men stood in shock and horror as they watched their friend fall before them. The leader, whos cocky demeanor had already began to melt away starred in fear before shouting,

“Move, do something! Fight!” He demanded. The other men began to attack but their attacks were sloppy and rigid. Clearly they weren’t the ones who were going out of their way and doing the attacking that they seemed to gloat about. One of the men had swung at Mizu, just barely missing her as she ducked underneath, sending a kick to his knee, dislocating it. He fell, just like his friend before him, screaming in agony. She quickly ended his crying with a swift blow through the chest, driving her sword almost entirely through him.

The guard that had been stationed outside the door had also come in to help the fight but Mizu truly didn’t take long to deal with him. Some guard he was.

She moved on to the next man who thought it wise to try and attack her from behind. As if it was rehearsed, she blocked the blow with her sword and knocked the man off balance. With one clean strike, she had given the man a large gash on his stomach area and he dropped to the ground, his eyes rolling back before he had ever hit the floor.

The two men that were left put up more of a fight than their assumed to be co-workers. One of the men had managed to actually land a blow on Mizu, luckily it hadn’t been with a sword seeing as she had already managed to disarm him by that point. He had managed to kick Mizu in her stomach as she went to swing which knocked her off balance and sent her flying by a bit. It hurt, she couldn’t deny it, but the adrenaline that coursed through her was enough for her to get up without even thinking twice about it.

Mizu lunged at the man, managed to take him out with a few labored swings of her sword, and turned to the last man and landed the final blow straight through his chest.

She then turned to the leader, his hands trembling as he held onto his sword. The man he saw before him was no man, he held the soul of a demon that bathed in blood and was fueled by anger.

She walked towards him, he weakly tried to attack her and failed almost immediately. She gripped onto the collar of his clothes, her sword pressed up against his neck as her eyes stared into the deepest parts of his soul. The look she was giving him had instilled a fear in the man that he had never felt before. The once pompous and arrogant leader had vanished, and in place of him was a shriveled up frightened child staring back at Mizu. She glared at him, her teeth gritting together as she lowly asked,

“Where is she?”

“Who, where is who?” The man asked, his entire body trembling as if he was just an innocent bystander. One might have thought that if they hadn’t seen him sitting amongst several other men who circled around him, waiting for his orders. This answer didn’t sit right with Mizu, he knew exactly who she was talking about as her grip tightened on his collar. She neared his face, her brows furrowed as her rage began to boil over, her icy blue eyes narrowing as she asked,

“Where is my wife?” She growled. Her threatening glare made the man shrink back in fear.

“I don’t know, I don’t know. I just told the men to deal with her, I don't know where they put her. Please I’ll give you anything you want, just don’t hurt me!” The man pleaded, nearly crying before her.

Mizu watched in disgust as the man practically groveled before her for the sake of his own life, the one he thought had been invincible not even twenty minutes before. He clearly had no information, so there was no reason left for him to live in her eyes. So with a swift and effortless movement, she sent her blade gracefully gliding across his throat. Within a matter of seconds the man dropped to the ground, blood spilling out as his eyes rolled back.

He lay there still slightly twitching as Mizu watched. Without another word, she left the room, leaving almost every inch of it soaked in blood. She didn’t know if there were more men, but if they had come across that room hopefully they would just take the hint and not try and be the ‘hero’ they thought they could be by stopping her.

She searched every inch of the house, opening sliding doors, checking every floor, even checking for hidden hatches that could’ve housed something that would lead her to find you. The longer she went on the more frantic her movements became. She hoped that the things the man had gloated about were just him trying to sound much more powerful than he was, she hoped and prayed to whatever higher power that had been listening that she would find you unscathed even though she knew that was unrealistic. You had been in the confinement of this horrid place for several hours considering how long it had taken Mizu to not only find this place but also travel to it.

As she frantically searched the room she was in for even the smallest thing that could have led her to you a man walked into the room, in a very unsuspecting manner before finally spotting her. Before the man could call for help, attack her, or do anything to get her caught, she lunged at him and kept him in her grip with her sword pressed up against his neck just as she had done to his leader.

The security in this place must have been awful for her to freely walk around without really having to care about being seen. She would’ve bet money on the fact that no one had gone to check on the bloodbath she had left the leaders room in but what else could she expect, sloppy assassins, sloppy security.

“The woman you took in early today, where are you keeping her?” She demanded, his eyes held the same fear as the men before him. She wondered how they managed to get anything done if this is how they dealt with an intruder. Everyone in the town was probably too frightened to deal with them, which meant they could remain at the top no matter how weak they actually were behind closed doors.

“You mean the demon?” He asked, trying to act as if the situation he was in meant nothing to him, but his eyes betrayed him. Mizu’s grip on her sword tightened as she began to push it into his neck, slowly drawing blood. Surely he couldn’t have been so stupid to refer to you as a demon while he had someone with blue eyes staring right at him, threatening to take his life if he said too much of the wrong thing.

“Okay, Okay! She’s downstairs, in the basement, there are a bunch of barrels stacked up on top of the hatch we use to get to her.” He exclaimed, finally giving her the information she needed. She quickly slit his throat and left the room, searching every room that she could find on the bottom floor, looking for the barrels. Once she had found them, she frantically tossed them aside, luckily they seemed to be placed there more for show than anything else. She opened the hatch and made her way down below the gambling house.

The path was dark and very dingy, but she had no time to stop, she had to find you.

All she could really hear was the sound of water dripping every so often as she made her way through the hall lined with makeshift cells, most of which were empty until she saw one that had someone cowering in the corner.

The person was curled up in a ball, their head down, and the only thing that came from them was the muffled sound of sniffling.

It was you.

[charkyzombicorn]

Nami had just finished taking out the small group of marines that cornered her, not putting her new clima-tact away just yet. She hadn't gotten the hang of the weird mods Usopp put in it, but a staff was a staff and she'd been using those for nearly a decade.

In the distance, she heard a loud crash and then joyous laughter. She huffed and started walking towards the sounds - really, if Luffy could have so much fun fighting off marines he could have come and helped her.

Then there was a gunshot. Only one, and the laughing cut off. Nami paused, waiting for the laughing or the crashing to pick up again like thunder after lightning.

Five seconds passed, and there was no more noise loud enough for her to hear. She started running.

She zig-zagged around street corners toward where the noises were, she heard another gunshot but nothing more. Nami only stopped running when she saw her captain.

He was fine, she thought immediately, before noticing the way he was fighting. He wasn't using his powers, he was just… Punching people. It looked strange - less cartoon-y, more real. He beat a man's face in and then Nami felt a sweaty hand on her arm. She startled, turning to look at the marine with a sword pointed under her chin.

"Luffy--!" She started, and the captain threw himself at the marine without one of his silly attack names.

"Your!" Punch. "Fight's!" Punch. "With!" Punch. "Me!" The marine stopped moving, and Luffy sighed.

Nami blinked. It was strange. The way Luffy was acting was strange.

Luffy looked up at her, he had a black eye and a cut on his cheek. "You okay?"

Nami blinked again. Luffy had certainly never asked her that before. He always just…knew. "Yeah… Are you okay?"

Luffy grunted, and grabbed his thigh. Half his shorts were soaked with blood, and a red puddle started forming beneath his knee. "For now?" He guessed.

Nami couldn't stop staring at the blood. "I'm - I'm gonna get Chopper."

"Shit - did you get hurt?" Luffy stood, somehow, though he leaned heavily on his right leg.

Nami blinked a third time. "No, idiot, you need Chopper." She couldn't put the heart in it she really wanted to, because she was still stricken by the injury; and from small-time marines, too.

"Ah. Okay. I'll come with you." He said, and took one step toward him before blanching and swaying on his feet. Nami grabbed his shoulders to hold him steady, and he smiled at her - a small smile, a normal smile on any other face.

She again noted how weird it was, but then finally managed to draw up enough focus to get angry. "No you won't! You're gonna sit down and you're gonna wait until I get Chopper! I'm not Zoro, I can't carry you!"

Luffy's brows furrowed, and then he scowled, not at all emphasized by any rubber powers. "I can walk myself!" He said stubbornly. "I'm not some kid, let's just go."

Nami paused yet again at the weird way her captain was acting, but then her hackles rose. "You are some kid, Luffy! Some kid that can't even take a fight seriously! I heard you laughing from five blocks away, if you were paying attention you wouldn't have gotten hurt in the first place!"

"Well I'm not laughing now, am I?! Those bastards took it from me, are you happy?!"

"What could they have possibly taken from you?!"

Luffy scowled, and pulled his shorts to show the perfectly circular hole on his mid thigh. "Seastone bullets." He grit.

She felt very sick at the thought of metal still in her captain's leg, but she only got more pissed. "Really?! You're having a hissy fit because you can't use your devil fruit?! Newsflash: ninety-nine percent of the population lives without the ability to stretch their arms really far, you really are a child!"

Luffy glared at her, and opened his mouth to say something more when they both heard a shriek.

Usopp was looking nauseous, staring at the now sizeable puddle of blood under Luffy, Chopper right next to him in walk point with an expression Nami couldn't read since it was on a deer's face but looked startled.

Luffy, immediately distracted from the task at hand, turned to them with a worried frown. "You guys are okay? I grouped you with Sanji, is he okay? Chopper?"

Chopper trotted over to him, switching to brainpoint to study the hole in Luffy's leg. "You nicked an artery." He said quietly, before switching to the size that was supposed to be comparable to a man and not a gorilla. "If you walk on that leg, it'll be harder to get the bullet out." He said, and Luffy complied as if he weren't fighting for his right to walk by himself not thirty seconds ago. Chopper picked him up and held him with one arm, before looking to Nami. "We need to get back to Merry as soon as we can."

Nami nodded dumbly, before leading the way, Copper following close behind and Usopp walking next to her, still looking like he may be sick.

At the Going Merry, Copper got the bullet out and stitched up Luffy's leg. Luffy was back to his cheerful self in no time, and Nami only wondered about that strange attitude shift for a week until they were focused on Skypiea instead.

[kstewdeux]

@inukag-week 2023 | May 30 | Prompt: “Possession”

Summary: Inuyasha smokes some demon grade weed.

Read here or on Ao3

"This is bullshit," Inuyasha mumbled under his breath as he slid down the tree bark and glared at the well in the distance. Yet again Kagome had run off without actually telling him what was wrong. Why that woman thought he'd just inherently know what he did wrong he'd never understand but what he did know was that her reaction was definitely an overreaction. Nothing would ever get accomplished if she didn't talk to him and use words. Not that he was better at it or nothing but that was beside the point. This non-fight was the absolutely last thing he needed too. Between Naraku coming up with increasingly creative ways to kill people and Kikyo popping up earlier in the week for the specific purpose of trying to alienate him, Inuyasha was tired. He was burnt out. He just wanted one god damn afternoon where he didn't have to-

Blinking a few times, Inuyasha got an idea. A wonderful idea. A wonderful, awful idea. He hadn’t ventured that way for a little, uh, relaxation technique since he’d gotten sealed to a tree but given recent interactions, Inuyasha was 99.9% positive that Tōtōsai had kept up the habit and was very confident that the old offer to join at any time still stood.

The first time he'd ventured out that way he'd gone to try to seek shelter during his human night when he was much, much younger. Too young and far too inexperienced with life to properly care for himself. A demon had been hunting him for weeks and he'd barely eaten, barely slept, barely survived. Myoga, in a rare moment of usefulness, somehow tracked his tiny self down and told him where to go. Totosai did indeed offer protection from both the demon and the death by starvation but upon seeing the sight of the tiny boy, he’d also immediately offered his pipe. Looking back Inuyasha had many thoughts and harbored lots of well-deserved judgment on the age front but he couldn't bring himself to be mad over it. When he finally came back to his senses after those first choking drags, he'd felt full and well rested. He'd gone back at least once a year until the whole tree thing and now seemed as good a time as any to pick the ritual back up.

Best of all, a little trip to Totosai wouldn't be too suspicious and he could probably go with no questions asked. Even if someone did question it, it'd be so, so easy to come up with a plausible excuse now that he had his sword and an actual reason to go. The biggest obstacle had gone home to her world so there'd be no real interrogation and what Kagome didn't know wouldn’t hurt him.  Besides, it wasn't like they'd be doing anything or going anywhere. He could just "sulk" in the tree and no one would bother him. For once, once, he could get his mind off things and maybe feel like an actual person again instead of whatever anxiety riddled gremlin he'd been recently. 

This was the best idea he'd ever had.

"I'm going to repair my weapon," Inuyasha announced calmly to the others who offered to join him. He politely, suspiciously so, declined citing Kagome's possible return as the reason before taking off.

Kagome gasped as a sudden surge of youkai woke her up from a dead sleep. It would be more alarming if it was unfamiliar but she knew instantly who it was. Sitting up, she rubbed one eye with her hand before throwing off the covers and looking around in the dark. Her window was open but there was no Inuyasha. The sound of clinking coming from downstairs told her where he'd gone to and she groaned as she slowly made her way to see what trouble Inuyasha was getting into.

Honestly, Inuyasha’s random visit pissed her off. It was only three days into her week long stay. It was past midnight. He was being so inconsiderate it wasn’t even funny.

"InuYasha? What are you doing here?" Kagome yawned irritably as she entered the kitchen and stretched her arms above her head, "Do you even know what time-“

Something invisible and putrid smacked her in the face before she could finish her sentence.

“Oh my god, what is that?”

She gagged. Her hand flew up to pinch her nose and she began heavily breathing through her mouth. Inuyasha - the ever sensitive Inuyasha - did not seem bothered. Why was this disgusting stench familiar?  It was getting worse the longer she stood here too. Her eyes darted to the trash can and a little vomit pooled in the back of her throat. Something had to be rotting in there. Had to be. Except it didn't really smell like rot. It smelled like Inuyasha got sprayed by something which would explain why he didn't seem to notice. Probably knocked his butt out until he got used to it.

Inuyasha giggled and Kagome's mind momentarily glitched.

"Inu-"

"Ramen. It's ramen. Put it in the microwave," Inuyasha mumbled as he gave her a dopey smile and pointed at what he obviously believed to be the microwave. Hand still covering her face, Kagome looked endlessly confused and utterly over whatever was happening. Inching over to grab the room spray her mom kept on the counter, Kagome let out a few puffs before finally removing her hand. God, did Inuyasha get sprayed by something? What type of demon did that? She’d have to admit a deterrent like that would work on her.

"The microwave?" Kagome coughed lightly as she came to stand beside him and gave him a concerned glance, "Don't get me wrong. I mean I'm proud of you for knowing what a microwave does but, uh, I don't think you know what a microwave...is."

"Yeah. Duh," he replied a little defensively as he gestured at the damn thing, "I pressed the button. Damn things busted."

Kagome slowly opened the door and removed the small cup of instant ramen from the shelf before looking down at the half a dozen ice cubes on the floor. Yeah, he'd pressed a button alright. The small puddle of water also implied he pressed multiple buttons.

"So, uh, this is a refrigerator," Kagome explained cautiously and Inuyasha blinked at her, “It keeps things cold. It, um, doesn't cook. Why don’t I boil you some water and you can go take a shower or-“

Out of nowhere, a noise echoed in the quiet kitchen. A cross between a stifled snort and drunken giggles. A strange sound that had Kagome freezing after she set down the now useless ramen and picked up a towel to clean up his mess. Sapphire eyes widened in shock and she took a step back when InuYasha doubled over and the noise increased in volume.

"I'm so stupid," he cackled, “Cold doesn’t hot.”

Setting down the cup, Kagome grimaced as she awkwardly made her way to pick up the ice cubes and wipe up the small puddle. His frightening laughter subsided slowly into a sigh before he began sniffing madly.

"Where do you keep the fucking potatoes?" he groaned as he stumbled, actually stumbled, towards the pantry before holding himself up in a clear attempt to act like nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

"Potatoes?"

"Yeah," Inuyasha huffed softly as his eyes darted around and he pouted, "You know. Po-tay-toes."

"Um, we don't have any potatoes and even if we did, you shouldn’t eat them raw," Kagome mumbled worriedly, "Are you...are you okay? Did you get attacked or something?"

"S’not the point. Potatoes. Now," InuYashya whined in frustration as he slowly turned to face her, "You know where they are. Help me.”

Kagome blinked rapidly at him as her concern rocketed into full blown panic before startling when he suddenly spun and grinned at the cabinet above the stove.

"AH. There. C’mere you bastards," he snickered before sniffing madly and obviously following something's scent until he came to stand in front of the stove. And then just kinda stood there swaying lightly. 

"That has fire in it," he giggled stupidly - pointing at the oven like it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. Kagome froze. What the hell was happening? Since when did InuYasha giggle or act so...so dumb? When he glanced over his shoulder at her with red tinged eyes, something clicked.

"Wait, are you high?" Kagome snorted when Inuyasha suddenly looked like a child with his hand caught in the candy jar.

"Mayyybe," he replied after a moment as he gave her a playful yet challenging glare before huffing and sniffing once more, "Where are the fucking potatoes?"

It finally clicked in Kagome's mind what he was really after. Chips. He was looking for potato chips.

"Sit down before you hurt yourself," Kagome sighed bemusedly at his obvious desire for munchies, "Wait a minute and I'll get you some potato chips."

InuYasha glared.

"Don't need you to help me. I'm not weak like you dumb humans," he protested as he turned his attention back to the cupboard above the stove, "The chips are up there. I can do it."

"Yeah, you can get the chips," Kagome snorted as she tried and failed to hide her amusement, "So are you, uh, going to do that? You know, open the door?"

"Oh right," he giggled softly as he did just that and quickly found what he wanted. The poor bag of potato chips never stood a chance and soon he was hovering over Kagome's shoulder anxiously awaiting his next snack.

"So, um, what did you, uh, take?" Kagome asked before blushing when he suddenly rested his chin on her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Went to visit Totosai," he hummed happily as he buried his nose into her neck and tightened his hold, "Fuck you smell amazing."

"What does Totosai have to..." Kagome managed time breathe before her eyes widened in realization. The old demon wasn't senile. He was just a stoner. There was weed in that pipe he was always puffing on. The world made sense again. Well sorta. It surprised her that Inuyasha had, uh, partaken.

"I could stay here forever. You smell like a blanket. I love blankets,” he breathed as his nose pressed into skin. Kagome blushed and angled her neck slightly away.

"Well, um, it’s good that at least one of us smells nice,” Kagome chuckled awkwardly before clearing her throat and focusing on the slowly boiling water. Inuyasha hummed again and began to sway taking her along with him.

"So you went to see Totosai?" Kagome continued as her cheeks flamed crimson. Part of her was mortified. Part of her was pleased. Part of her was already wondering whether traditional laundry detergent would work to get weed smell out of clothes or if she needed to go buy something stronger.

"Yeah," he replied quietly as he pressed a soft kiss against her neck. Kagome’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head and every muscle in her body tensed. The whistling of the kettle was the most welcome thing she'd ever heard.

"Let go of me. I need to make your ramen," Kagome coughed lightly and Inuyasha giggled softly as he tightened his hold.

"Go make it then," he challenged playfully before he gently nibbled on her ear lobe. Kagome shuddered and groaned.

"Inuyasha, stop. This isn’t like you," she breathed as she writhed slightly under the attention.

"I am me," he countered as he buried his nose into her neck, "I love ramen.”

He paused before giggling, "Almost as much as I love you."

Kagome froze before rolling her eyes and reaching for the thankfully nearby cup of noodles. Inuyasha was just high as hell. He didn’t mean it. If the bastard was here, he probably would've told Naraku he loved him too. 

Awkwardly pouring the water into the cup, which was a struggle when a snickering half-demon refused to let her go, she waited the necessary seconds before damn near thrusting the cup under his nose. He released her instantly as he took the ramen in both hands and stared at it like he'd was seeing god.

"You are the best thing that has ever happened to me," he cooed at the tiny cup before his mouth fell open in mild confusion. Kagome rolled her eyes before presenting him with chopsticks. He grinned at those too then wiggled happily.

Quickly devouring the cup like eating was going out of style, his bites slowed and dilated yet confused amber eyes suddenly honed in on her face.

"You're pretty. I'll give you that," he muttered before taking another bite and narrowing his eyes in silent accusation, "But I'm spoken for."

Kagome couldn't help the way that broke her heart. Tears began selling in the corners of her eyes, and she began to head back up towards her bedroom. Of course, he was spoken for. Kikyo was Kikyo was Kikyo and she would just never...

"See my bitch makes the ramen," he continued as though nothing happened and he took another bite before tossing the now empty cup onto the floor, "All you did was give me chopsticks. So you can smell aroused all you want little girl. I'm taken. My bitch'll probably be back soon and I'd like to keep my balls intact. Thanks but no thanks."

Kagome blinked once before slowly turning around. If he was this far gone that he didn't realize who he was speaking to...

What the hell had he smoked?

"So…you have a, um, girlfriend then?”

Inuyasha clumsily looked up and scowled.

“She’s prettier than you.”

Kagome choked on a laugh but otherwise managed to keep her composure.

”Tell me about her," she asked quietly as she slowly sat down at the kitchen table. Inuyasha blinked a few times then his irritated face went blank.

"I’m so fucking hungry. What the shit,” he muttered suddenly as he headed back towards the pantry and Kagome sighed.

Whatever Totosai had given him packed a punch, didn't it? Aside from the munchies, he was acting a little too out of it for the drug of choice to just be weed. Not that she was experienced with that or anything but Inuyasha seemed a little too out of it.  The weed had to be laced with something. Or maybe it was just demon grade? And how long would this last? The journey from Totosai's home took at least a day. Had he just been wandering around all that time or was his craving for ramen that bad? It was a miracle he hadn't died.

Inuyasha came back moments later with literally all the chips and began tearing into the first bag before he seemed to realize she was still there.

"There you are. I wondered where you went. Can't just leave me like that," he cooed happily before he began forcing handfuls of chips down his throat. Those red tinted amber eyes staring at her with nothing short of pure adoration. Like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life. He blinked a few times before looking around.

"Where the hell did that other bitch go?" InuYasha asked in a confused tone as he glanced around the kitchen.

"It's just you and me, InuYasha," Kagome snorted softly - deciding to ignore the continued semi-insult in favor of  enjoying Inuyasha's semi-adorable babbling, "There was no one else."

"Whatever. Some girl comes in to steal me then that’s what you get for leaving," he huffed as he sent her a smug dopey grin, "Women love me. I am pretty."

A hand flew up to her mouth and Kagome shook with the effort of not laughing so hard she cried. 

”That so?” she managed to counter in between stifled giggles. Inuyasha looked crestfallen and cocked his head to the side.

”Am I not pretty?”

Aw. He looked so sad.

”You are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” she hummed - her cheeks were starting to hurt from holding back her grin. Inuyasha preened a little and popped more chips into his mouth.

"You  don't smell pretty though. I think you need a shower," Kagome pointed out affectionately as she rested her chin on her hand.

"Why? I’m pretty," Inuyasha mumbled as he continued munching and absently looking around. Kagome rolled her eyes. She might have to just deal with the smell. After all, he was so blazed it was entirely possible he’d drown himself.

The things we tolerate for love.

Speaking of love...

Inuyasha began to hum a song and lightly sway his head, Kagome plucked up her courage.

"Inuyasha," she sing-songed and his dopey grin was back full force, "I love my pretty boy."

"Obviously," he giggled once before ripping open yet another bag of unsuspecting junk food.

"Does my pretty boy love me?" she sing-songed again trying to fight down the anxiety that followed. The look of love shining in his slightly altered eyes grew exponentially. Kagome held her breath and waited for him to say it. Just once. Even if it wasn’t true.

But then his face abruptly fell and he glared down at the chips in his hand.

"Fuck. I knew this wasn't ramen," he scoffed in disgust before continuing to eat the poor defenseless food items.

Kagome rolled her eyes but felt satisfied with his answer. Whether it the weed talking or him, the look said it all. And that was enough to heal some of her broken heart. At least for a little while.

Groaning, Kagome tiredly batted away the fly tickling her nose and tried to roll away from the sensation. Five hours. It took Inuyasha five entire hours of being a bottom pit and an absolute idiot before he finally passed out. Part of her was glad that he’d come here because the list of worst case scenarios were endless. He could barely walk straight. Ran into several walls. Ate literally everything he could get his hands on.

“Pretty girl it’s time to wake up,” Inuyasha’s voice suddenly hummed happily into her hair - his nose gently brushing against her temple, “I let you sleep all day.”

Something warm and wet pressed against her temple. The bed shifted and a weight settled. Gentle claws began carding through her hair.

Once her mind registered what was happening, Kagome went from groggy to fully awake in less than three seconds. She stiffly rolled onto her back and sat up to look at a very pleased Inuyasha perched at the edge of her bed.

“W-what?”

“I was saying that it’s time to wake up,” he repeated but there was a playful look in his eyes, “You need to study, right?”

Kagome opened then closed her mouth several times before glancing down at her alarm clock. Two. It was two. Thank god it was Sunday.

“I, um, cleaned up the kitchen,” he continued in that same soft and happy tone - his hand moving to lightly stroke her thigh, “And took a shower. And sorry about, um, last night.”

Kagome looked back up at him - concerned that he was still high because since when did Inuyasha talk to her like this. Before she could find the right thing to ask, he pulled his hand back and averted his gaze.

“Did you…” he blurted nervously, “What you said. You meant it, right?”

It didn’t take a genius to know what he was referring to. Still-

After what he put her through last night, she was feeling a little salty. Might as well play with him a bit.

“Yes, you are the prettiest boy I’ve ever met,” Kagome offered with a playful confidence. Inuyasha’s ear flicked in annoyance. His cheeks, though, turned pink.

“Gee. Thanks,” he mumbled and she watched his Adam’s apple bob. His knee started bouncing and his ears pinned back against his skull.

“Oh. Oh you meant the other thing?” Kagome playfully threw him a bone and Inuyasha nodded faintly For some reason, his insecurity gave her confidence.

“Yeah. Meant the other thing I said too.”

Inuyasha glanced at her with hope in his eyes. He also looked a little irritated.

“Which other thing? You said a lot of things.”

“Ah. But so did you. Told me all your secrets,” Kagome teased and Inuyasha’s blush turned his ears pink but his face did something beautiful.

A flicker of fear and then, he seemed to accept there was no reason to worry. Shortly thereafter, he turned the color of his robes and let out a shaky laugh.

“Worth it though. I…” Inuyasha paused and scratched at his nose, “I liked when you called me pretty.”

The mumbled words were spoken so quickly it was a miracle Kagome understood him.

"Technically speaking, you said it first and I just played along," she teased before paling slightly at the knowing smirk he gave her in response.

"That so?" he hummed - amber taking on a pleased and mischievous glint, "Did you just happen to forget I have excellent hearing?"

A red blush began creeping into Kagome's cheeks.

"I mean you typically say something about how good I look at least once a week," he continued playfully, "That was just the first time you said it to my face."

Kagome pursed her lips and thought about denying it but saw no point in doing so. So she simply sighed and offered a guilty smile.

“Well, i mean, you are my pretty boy,” Kagome hummed as her smile widened, “My good boy.”

Inuyasha's face darkened instantly.

“I don’t like that one.”

“Noted,” Kagome acquiesced happily. Sitting up more fully, she crawled over to him and positioned her face in just the right place should he feel the urge to kiss her, “So, do I just get to assume or-“

Inuyasha took the hint and dipped forward while his hands quickly settled her body on his lap. Pulling her close, he took a break for air and gave her the most beautiful little grin.

“Fine, fine, yeah, I love you too.”

[laurelsofhighever]

Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins Characters/pairings: Alistair x Cousland Chapter: 11/? Rating: M Warnings: Canon-typical violence Fic Summary: The story of the Fifth Blight, in a world where Alistair was raised to royalty instead of joining the Grey Wardens.

Read on AO3!

--

Two more days of uneventful travelling brought the little group to the outskirts of civilisation, chilled and soggy under the pall of wet snow that had closed over them the night before. They had sheltered, shivering, in an abandoned barn, one of many along the old, paved road they were following, which had been in poor repair even before rumours of war had channelled carts and animals and the refugees who drove them out of the southern hinterlands. Now, it was a struggle to trudge through the lines of muddy, iced-over puddles where the flagstones left gaps, breath coming in harsh clouds of white fog and cold-numbed fingers tucked as much as possible under the folds of the oilskin cloaks Flemeth had been able to spare them.

“Lothering,” Alistair huffed when they finally paused for breath on a bluff overlooking the village. Thin banners of smoke rose from the hunched cluster of buildings in the settlement proper, and from the damp campfires dotted between the mass of grubby tents that spilled out over the southern boundary like flotsam from a shipwreck.

“Pretty as a painting.” He shot a sidelong grin to Rosslyn on his left. “I almost didn’t think we’d make it.”

“It’s a real sight, isn’t it?”

The new, reedy voice came from just off the road, from a small campsite set far enough back into the bushes that any travellers heading north would miss it on the way past. The thin, gaunt man it belonged to stepped out onto the path in front of them. Four others emerged after him, in front and behind to block their path, all in similar states of beggary with weapons drawn. Rosslyn’s own hand reached for her sword at the same moment Alistair stepped closer to guard her flank. The shiver of air along her spine told her that Morrigan, too, readied for an attack. She hoped it would not come. Though her shoulder had knitted together far faster than should be expected even with the aid of magical healing, the dull twinges that flared with every movement warned of the permanent damage that could be done if she got into a fight before the muscles fully recovered.  

“Let us pass,” she commanded from beneath her hood. At her side, Cuno growled his own threat, the sound a low vibration against her leg.

“Ah, the pretty one is in charge, I see,” the stranger cried, as if delighted. He looked malnourished, his hollow cheeks exaggerated by the cracked, ill-fitting leather armour strapped about his shoulders, the sour odour of his unwashed body an offence even from ten paces’ distance. Everything from his stance to the flashy, overly stiff grip of his sword screamed his lack of skill, even without the coating of rust on his neglected blade that would have gotten any squire in Castle Cousland flogged.

One of the other bandits shifted on his feet when she didn’t respond. “Uh… these ones don’t look much like them others,” he ventured. “Maybe we should just let them pass?”

“Nonsense,” the leader snapped, and turned a greasy smile on Rosslyn. “We have rules, you know. There’s a toll. A simple ten silvers and you’re free to move on.”

“You’re not very well dressed for tollkeepers,” Alistair noted. “Better hope Bann Dunstan’s militia doesn’t catch you preying on those fleeing the darkspawn.”

The man laughed. “Bann Dunstan went north with Teyrn Loghain, and took all his soldiers with him. There’s only a few templars left at the chantry now – so we’re taking the initiative.”

“You are fools to get in our way,” Morrigan told him with a sneer.

“Loghain came through here?” Rosslyn pressed, before the bandits could test the claim.

The leader shrugged. “Day before yesterday, leading his whole army and saying the Grey Wardens betrayed the king and got him and themselves killed.”

“That’s not –”

“No other survivors?” she interrupted.

“A few,” he answered. “Band of Ash Warriors came through yesterday – stayed right out of their way, I can tell you. But you aren’t Ash Warriors.”

“No?” she asked lightly. “We came from the south, we’re armoured and armed better than you, and I can tell you exactly how far the darkspawn are behind us. Are you really going to risk yourselves on a losing battle here when you could be running?”

“Uh… you don’t seem to realise –”

She feinted forward. He flinched, and she tilted a cold smile at him.

“Alright!” he huffed, throwing up his hands. “We’re just trying to get by, before the darkspawn get us all.”

“Then go,” she suggested. “And hope they don’t catch up.”

He risked a glance sideways at the campsite, one hand rising in a hopeless gesture that faltered with the deliberate step she took towards him, his eyes glued to the inch of white steel drawn from her scabbard.

“Those things don’t belong to you,” she reminded him.

“Yes, right.” He swallowed. “Of course. Come on, gents – it’s slim pickings here anyway.”

She kept her gaze on him as he stumbled backwards, tense in case of a double-cross, though she had spent enough time among her father’s hounds to know a beaten dog when she saw one. The patter of the rain fell heavily in the mud as he retreated with the rest of his miserable band slinking at his heels, reluctant, but not one daring enough to attack alone.

They would not remain cowed for long.

As soon as the last man retreated into the cover of the trees, Rosslyn turned and leapt the ditch between the road and the bandits’ makeshift camp, hissing a curse as her boot slipped on the landing and wrenched her shoulder.

“Uh… what are you doing?” Alistair asked, coming closer.

“Outfitting,” she replied. “Before they come back.”

“If they do, I say teach them a lesson,” Morrigan scoffed. She had stayed on the road, vigilant as a wolf with the distant scent of deer on the wind.

“The best way to win a fight is to not fight in the first place.” Busy hunting through the meagre spoils the bandits had managed to scrounge together, the adage came to Rosslyn’s lips almost without thinking. It crowded with others in her head, the stories retold by the hearth on winter nights that spoke not of the glory of battle but of the hardships that went between, nights of cold and hunger where morale wavered like a candle flame by an open window. There had been days, her father said, where the Orlesians had forced them to choose between the tired army and starving civilians.

Behind her, Cuno whined. A small animal, perhaps a yearling lamb, lay poorly spitted over the fire, its flesh half-cooked and the tips of its shanks beginning to burn. Drops of fat hissed as they surrendered to the flames. In the few days of travel from Flemet’s hut, the dog’s share of their meagre rations had been smaller than she would have liked, stretched as far as possible with grains but limited by all the things he couldn’t eat.

“Such a good boy,” she crooned, leaving off her inspection of a tatty bedroll to cut away one of the haunches for him. The heat of the bone warmed her numb fingers through the thick leather of her gauntlets, gone again the instant she wiped the juices away on the inside of her cloak.

“Are we taking this stuff, then?” Alistair tried. “You know it was stolen.”

“We’re taking what we can carry, what we need,” she corrected, without looking at him. “I don’t like it either, but you heard what he said about Loghain just as well as I did – we need all the advantages we can get.”

Morrigan delicately flicked a cleaning rag away from the rim of an engraved silver bowl so she could inspect it. “If the former owners of these items were foolish enough to allow themselves to be robbed, ‘tis no concern of ours.”

“The people who passed through here were desperate,” he insisted. “They had nothing else.”

“Neither do we,” Rosslyn reminded him, and sighed. “We can pass word in the village once we get there – maybe someone will come for what’s left.”

A long moment passed as he wrestled with his conscience, as the snow thickened overhead and Cuno crunched down the bones of his impromptu meal, until necessity overcame nobility and with a snarl at nothing in particular he tramped over to the bandits’ tent to dismantle it. Even through the thick layers of armour and cloak, the tension in his shoulders screamed loud enough that Rosslyn had to grit her teeth and turn away. She swiped a bag of dried provisions and a coinpurse from the bottom of an unlocked chest, and an extra cloak and bedroll that she hoped weren’t infested with lice, before hunting around for something that might serve to wrap the rest of the meat.

Further into the trees, they found a pair of tacked-up horses tied to the branch of a bare oak. One was of much finer quality than the other, with the tall, strong-boned confirmation of a knight’s charger, but both had been neglected, left to stand with no sign of fodder in a slurry of mud up to the fetlock.

“Ah, I see we are to rescue every pathetic creature that wanders across our path,” Morrigan commented as Rosslyn ran her hands over the destrier’s legs to check for swelling.

She shot a glare over her uninjured shoulder. “Would you prefer to carry the tent?”

--

With their baggage now strapped to the horses, the last stretch of the journey took less than an hour. By the time they reached the outskirts of Lothering, the blizzard had eased and a glance of pale sunlight managed to slip past the bars of cloud. The squalor it illuminated rose bile in the back of Rosslyn’s throat as surely as the smell. Families huddled beneath scavenged yards of cloth trying to stay dry as the few campfires still burning billowed acrid curls of smoke, their meagre possessions kept within sight and easy reach.

“I wonder, Alistair,” Morrigan commented as they passed through the gauntlet of wan, wary stares, “why do none of them recognise you? You passed through Lothering on the journey south, did you not?”

“I was considerably better dressed then,” he pointed out, but pulled the hood of his cloak lower over his forehead nonetheless. “It’s probably for the best that we’re not recognised, if what that bandit said about Loghain is true. It does make you wonder what all these people are waiting for, though. They have to know the darkspawn aren’t that far away.”

Morrigan clicked her tongue. “‘Tis not our concern if they wish to sit like rams waiting for the wolf.”

They trudged further in silence, until the cobbles of the road once more emerged from beneath the quagmire of the squatters’ field. In the distance, the tower of the village chantry rose above the lines of shingle roofs, its pennants flashing with gold-embroidered sunbursts. If any organised retreat existed, the templars would have charge of it, though to judge from the blasphemous ravings of the merchant they passed arguing with a lay sister, their grasp on order was tenuous at best.

“Please, sers – have you seen my mother?”

Rosslyn stopped cold. A small boy, older than Oren but not by much, and with lighter hair, huddled under the eaves of an empty doorstep, clutching a scrawny, point-eared mongrel about the neck. His clothes were thin and ragged at the hems, smeared with the dirt that also smudged its way across his cheek.

“Your mother?” she repeated, fighting back the shake of double vision.

“She’s really tall, and she has red hair,” the boy said hopefully. “Some mean men with swords came and Mother told me to run to the village as fast as I could, so I did. She said she’d be right behind me, but I’ve been waiting and waiting and I can’t find her.”

“Do you know where your father is?”

The boy’s gaze turned briefly to Alistair before settling on the dirt. “He went with William to the neighbours’ yesterday, but he didn’t come back.”

“‘Tis likely your parents are dead,” Morrigan told him, without sympathy. “Waiting for them here is pointless.”

“That’s not true!” The boy wiped his nose on his sleeve. “She said she’d come.” But his lip trembled, and he drew his arms tighter around the dog.

“Here,” Rosslyn interrupted, reaching to her side before the tears could truly come. “Get yourself something to eat, then go to the chantry. It’ll likely be the first place your mother will look for you.”

With a hearty sniff, the boy peered dubiously at the offering before lighting up in glee, his worry forgotten. “A whole silver!” He made to grab for it, then remembered his manners. “Thank you – you’re a really nice lady, kind of like mother.”

“Go on,” she commanded with a rough jerk of her head, and watched him disappear through the crowd.

“Poor thing,” Alistair muttered. He rounded on Morrigan. “Did you have to do that?”

“I only spoke the truth,” she retorted.

“And what good did it do?” Rosslyn demanded.

“What good is a silver to someone who will likely soon be prey to the darkspawn?”

In terms of cold practicality, the point was well barbed; it fired clean and struck true, even if the silver for the boy’s meal had come from an already-stolen purse. Rosslyn’s hands curled into fists nonetheless, the image before her eyes smeared not with mud from the gutter, but with blood.

“You don’t know that,” she growled.

“Denial will not –”

“I won’t argue this.” She drew in a steadying breath and clucked at the horses to walk on. “We should get to the chantry.”

Morrigan scowled at her. Alistair, too, held a wary edge in his posture, as if daring himself to ask whether she was alright, but she ignored them both to push on through the crowd of people milling about without much seeming purpose at all. Most wore the simply stitched clothes of farmholders, bundled up against the cold in cloaks of thick wool. A few, wealthier, had rabbit or squirrel trim about the collar, but none could be considered truly rich in their dress, and like the refugees beyond the village boundary they all kept close watch of their belongings, heads bowed like workhorses at the plough as they hurried about their business. Clearly, any with the means to leave had already made their escape.

Further on, a crowd had gathered in the lee of the chantry wall, their number shifting uneasily as a wiry man in the leather tunic and cross-tied cloak of a Chasind trader gesticulated at them from atop an overturned crate. His hair was lank and matted, his hose stained with mud to the thigh, and wild exhaustion creased the sun-darkened skin around his eyes.

“The legions of evil are on your doorstep!” he cried. “They will feast upon our hearts!”

“At last, someone who seems to understand the situation,” Morrigan noted dryly.

“There! One of their minions is already amongst us!”

Several faces turned in the direction of his point, and murmured amongst themselves as their eyes landed on Rosslyn, trying to guide her horse to the quieter side of the road. Travel-worn she might be, and scowling like a thundercloud, but a disappointing comparison to the monsters that haunted the dark edges of their bedtime stories.

“Prettiest darkspawn I ever saw,” someone laughed. “If they’re all like that, maybe I should join up.”

“This woman bears their evil stench!” the man insisted, spit flying from his lips. “Can you not see the vile blackness that fills her? The darkspawn will cover the world like a plague of locusts, and she is but the beginning! There is nowhere to run – better to slit your children’s throats now than let them suffer at darkspawn hands!”

Rosslyn stopped. Her lip twisted in a moment of indecision before she dropped the leading rein and started into the crowd with Cuno at her heels. Above, a bank of cloud shifted again and covered the sun, so that as she advanced, with onlookers scrabbling out of her way and drawn in her wake to see what would happen next, the sky darkened and the little warmth left bled from the air.

“I am not your enemy,” she declared, when she finally stood before her accuser.

“You are but the first of those who will destroy us!”

“What’s going on here?”

The Wilder shrank from the bite of the new voice, from the two soldiers in Gwaren Black fighting through the ranks of people, shoving with the hafts of their polearms when someone was too slow to move.

“You again!” spat the taller one, who had a sergeant’s band around his upper arm. “We’ve warned you. Move along, and stop causing trouble.”

“You would punish me, but not this thing of evil?” the wilder demanded. “Look on her! See the corruption thick in her veins.”

The soldiers were already looking, eyes half-lidded in affected disdain as they measured her. She stood, half a head taller than either of them, and glared coolly back.

“You’re well-armed, traveller,” the sergeant said. “Come from the south, did you?”

“Most recently,” she allowed.

The man scratched his chin. “No sigil, and no company. No mercs that I saw at Ostagar, and an honest soldier would wear a liege lord’s colours. Corrupted, you say?” he added, turning to the Wilder. “That sounds like a Grey Warden to me. I think we’ve just been blessed.”

“In what manner?” Rosslyn asked. These were not desperate farmers driven to banditry; all reports said Loghain trained his soldiers hard, ever fearful of a new invasion from Orlais, and they would not tuck their tails like scolded mongrels if she merely bared her teeth. She stood relaxed, drawn up to her full height despite the pain it brought to her shoulder.

“There’s a bounty out for traitors,” he leered.

As his hand shifted for a firmer grip on his polearm, his gaze slid to a point to Rosslyn’s left and widened in disbelief. A red-haired woman in the dawn-coloured cloth of a lay sister slipped into the open space the crowd had drawn around the confrontation, her graceful fingers splayed palm to palm in the sign of the sunburst as she placed herself gently as a feather between the soldiers and their hoped-for prize.

“Surely there is no need for trouble, gentlemen,” she said, her voice low and melodic, lilting with the precise inflections of court Orlesian. “No doubt this is but another poor soul seeking refuge.”

The sergeant gestured with his weapon. “Stay out of our way, sister, or you’ll get the same, chanter’s robes or no. The Wardens killed the king, or haven’t you heard?”

The crowd tensed. Rosslyn didn’t move. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Alistair hanging in the first line of onlookers, his stance and sword ready to aid her should any real fighting erupt, though he kept his hood low over his face, hunched to disguise his height. She could worry about his silence later, but for now she was glad neither Morrigan nor the horses were with him.

“It is no excuse for ambushing –”

“Loghain is the one who betrayed the king!” she called out over the Chantry sister’s misgivings, a clarion note on the dull air as she circled to once again stand before her opponent. “When the moment came for his support in the battle, he turned and fled, and left King Cailan and the Wardens to be overwhelmed. Their sacrifice is the only reason the darkspawn are not already swarming at your door.”

“Lies!” the sergeant spat. “This isn’t even a true Blight!”

“When the moment came,” she repeated, in a voice like winter, “he chose cowardice over loyalty.”

The insult struck. With a bellow like a bull the sergeant charged, polearm lowered to skewer her. She was ready. Whistling two quick notes, she stepped into the attack and drew her sword to parry the blow, the movement a graceful arc into his guard that slammed down into a pommel strike against his neck that sent him to the floor. His companion yelled a protest, but before he could intervene, Cuno’s massive jaws clamped around his arm. Surprise broke off into screams as he was borne to the ground and shaken like a dust rag. There was crack of bone.

“Alright!” the sergeant cried, as the crowd swayed, sickened by the sound. “Alright! You’ve won – we surrender!”

Rosslyn, her sword laid like a whisper against his neck, whistled once. In an instant her dog let go and backed off, though his thunderous growls still reverberated through the space, and left no doubt about his intentions should anyone else dare to attack his mistress. A few lost snowflakes drifted down against the stones.  

“They have learned their lesson now, I think,” the Chantry sister said, calmly, as if the soldiers had lost a chess match and weren’t both lying in the dirt, the one cringing against a white steel blade and the other cradling his bloodied, broken arm. “We can all stop fighting now.”

“Can we?” Rosslyn asked of the sergeant.

Eyes wide, he nodded. “Maker bless you for your mercy, ser!”

“My mercy,” she repeated. “There’s precious little of it. I want you to be of use to me.”

“Anything – anything!”

“You’re going to take a message to Loghain,” she said.

“Uh, what –” He swallowed. “What do you want to tell him?”

She glanced up and met Alistair’s eyes, the lines of his mouth pinched in worry as he slowly shook his head to urge her to caution. For a moment, her jaw clenched around the desire to rebel, to issue a challenge like those her ancestors had laid down before their enemies, a bright, shining pennant to unfurl across a battlefield, a streak of midnight intent, but the urge bled from her as she once again felt the ugly itch of the whispers in the back of her mind. Loghain possessed an army, and in sacrificing the Wardens had excused it the obligation of stopping the Blight; for now, Alistair’s survival, and her own identity, were the only tactical advantages they had.

“Tell him there are those who know what he did,” she growled. “And that we will see justice done for it.”

She took her blade away, and kicked him for good measure as he scrambled to his feet His lackey stumbled after, cowering away as she flexed out the rush of the battle-blood that made her fingers shake. She would pay for that burst of action later. All eyes were fixed on her, or on Cuno nosing up under her hand for a scratch behind the ear. Even the Chantry sister, who seemed far less bothered by the violence than should be expected, watched with curiosity to see what would happen next.

Her father would have known what to say; he would have chided her for shrinking back from her duty.

“I am a Grey Warden,” she told the gathered crowd. “Listen to me – the darkspawn are coming. King Cailan bought you time, but it is falling away and they cannot be stopped. They do not reason. If you do not leave, you will die.”

“Coward’s talk!” someone shouted.

“We’ll show ‘em if they dare creep out of the Wilds!”

“Maybe the Wardens killed the king and you’re trying to cover it up!”

The Chantry sister raised her hands. “Good people, please –”

“If it is so safe here, then why did the bann flee north?”

The voice did not come from one of the villagers, but from Morrigan. Her disdain rang so clear that it might have been amplified by magic, and it blunted the anger of the crowd into a low, uncertain buzz that faded entirely into silence as the lay sister once more stepped forward to address them.

“Please, do not despair,” she said. “The Maker sent this Grey Warden as a warning, to help us in our hour of need.”

“Do you think we should tell her who actually sent us?” Alistair muttered in Rosslyn’s ear as he sidled up to her.

“It would be interesting to see how things could get worse,” she muttered back.

“You handled those soldiers pretty well – I’d almost forgotten how scary you were in the lists.”

Disbelieving, she glanced at him and found nothing but sincerity in his shrouded features, a soft trust that stung not least because part of her wanted to throw back his hood and show him to the people in all disregard for sense. Such a move would certainly make them listen, but if Loghain had truly put out a bounty for captured Grey Wardens, how much more would he be willing to pay for Cailan’s only heir? Perhaps, at least until they met with Arl Eamon, it would be safer to pretend he was another Grey Warden instead, to shield him with her own status as much as it was her duty as a Cousland to shield him with her body.

As she mulled this over, the crowd succumbed to the lack of fresh entertainment and let itself be chivvied back about its business, clearing the path to Morrigan and the main doors of the chantry that had been their first destination. The lay sister remained, a demure smile upon her face as she waited for them to notice her.

“Thank you for intervening, Sister,” Alistair said. “We’re glad the crowd decided to listen to you.”

“I couldn’t just sit by and not help,” came the reply. “Though from your display of skill I see my aid was not required.”

“A welcome attempt nonetheless,” Rosslyn told her.

The woman smiled and dipped into a curtsey. “Then I am glad. Perhaps, if you wish it, I can offer further assistance by escorting you to the chantry?”

[adzeisval]

Nightmares

Ed and Izzy have nightmares. Also on AO3.

Ed still believed that his plan to have Izzy act as incapacitated as possible was a good one, but it came with side effects. Namely there were times when he wasn’t sure if Izzy was faking it or not. 

Izzy seemed alright when they were alone though so Ed had hopes that the man was recovering. 

But it was still weighing on Ed enough to give him horrible nightmares. He dreamed that he hadn’t gotten to Izzy on time that night on deck and that Izzy cut too deep and bled out crying on deck. 

He dreamed that Hornigold had indeed decided to string Izzy up by his guts and Izzy had died screaming in agony with Ed helplessly watching below. 

Ed tried to act like everything was fine and he wasn’t having nightmares and he wasn’t trying to get rid of the biggest name in piracy. Fuck. If he messed the whole thing up he and Izzy would die. 

Ed brought them to the Republic, even though he knew it would be a bit rough for Izzy, in hopes of finding Jack. 

“Well there he fucking is,” Jack sat down and Ed felt a little relieved, “The great Blackbeard.” 

“Pfft, fuck off Jack,” Ed said. 

“I heard what happened to Iz,” Jack said, “Is he alright.” 

“No. A little bit.” 

“Hornigold certainly been going at it hasn’t he?” Jack said and Ed knew he had him. Jack was everywhere in the rum running business and he could get info and spread plans while Ed pretended nothing was going on. Luckily Jack and several people he knew were sick of Hornigold and ready to act. 

“Just let me know when you have a plan, and it better be a good one because if not we’re all going to fucking die,” Jack said. 

“I will, just get the message out.” 

Ed took a deep breath, he was really going for it. There was no turning back. He was going to take Hornigold down or die trying. 

*****

Izzy saw Thomas on the mast of the ship once again. He approached with the gun in his hand. He looked up and Thomas looked at him. 

“You thought I actually loved you, you idiot.” 

Izzy shot him. Izzy got whipped. Then Ed came and stood over him. 

“Why the fuck would you think I would fight for you. Useless bastard,” Ed said and kicked him to the sharks. 

Izzy woke up as he hit the water and groaned. Another fucking nightmare. He had them in some form most nights. The nights he didn’t were the ones that he got blackout drunk and passed out. He was trying not to do it often, he knew Ed needed him.

Izzy pushed the remnants of the nightmare away and went up on deck. The bottle of booze he had was water but he tried to look as off has he could. He almost laughed that it was partially true he felt a bit off. 

Hall was on deck shouting orders as usual. 

There was a way that Hall looked when she was paying attention but pretending she wasn’t. Her hand tended to twitch on the pommel of her sword. 

She watched the men at work lingering just a little too long on each man. She was watching when they were talking and had a habit of walking over to them when there were more than two people talking. 

It was a good First Mate’s job to look out for mutiny and keeping the pulse of what was going on with the crew was one of those duties, but Hall wasn’t sniffing out mutiny against Ed, the crew loved Ed. Hall was sniffing for mutiny against Hornigold. 

Izzy didn’t blame her, of course she was right so it wasn’t a stupid thing to do, problem was she wasn’t looking in the right place.

From what Izzy could see Hall was concerned with everything on the Queen Anne and especially what went on between Izzy and Ed but Ed was smarter than that and he was hiding it under something stupid, or something that looked stupid. Jack wasn’t quite as stupid as he seemed, but Hall had never seen much in him and thought that Ed and Jack were only fucking each other and nothing more.

Hall was looking in the wrong place. 

“Morning Mr. Hands,” Hall said. 

“First Mate Hall,” Izzy said, trying to slur his words a bit. 

“You know I didn’t think you’d break this easily, I thought you were tougher than this,” Hall said. 

Oh that fucker had no idea and was going to pay for it all some day. 

“Not broken,” Izzy said. 

Hall scoffed, “Yes you are, and you can’t do that right.” Hall grabbed Izzy’s gloved hand and pressed on the wounds.

Izzy pulled his hand away. 

“You have to cut down the length of your arm to do it properly, but it’ll be harder to cut the second wrist so make sure to do a good job on the first,” Hall said. 

Izzy had never had a problem with Hall before, not really. He knew First Mates had to be hard on the crew now and then depending on the crew. They had to make sure things went well for their Captain and do what they were told to do. Izzy had a good idea of what was required for the job and Hall fit the bill but…this was too much.

“Not going to do that,” Izzy said. 

“It would be a mercy, for you and your Captain. You’re never going to be anything Izzy Hands and you’re a disgrace to your Captain. I know that you’re too stupid to see the truth but he doesn’t care about you at all.”

Izzy bit back a fuck you, Hall could have him punished for that and Ed couldn’t or rather shouldn’t stop it. It wasn’t time yet. 

Hall gave a little chuckle and walked away. Izzy wished that the rum bottle actually had rum in it because he needed a fucking drink. Hall was wrong though, wrong that Ed didn’t care about Izzy. At least…

Fuck. Yes Ed cared about him. Izzy remembered how upset and scared he was when Izzy had cut his wrist. Ed had given him the glove to help him because he knew it was bothering him and he didn’t want it to. Ed trusted him to watch Hall. Izzy wasn’t going to cut his wrist.

That night he dreamed that he did indeed cut his wrists and Ed watched him do it without saying a word. 

Izzy felt like he might cry and stayed below deck for most of the morning. 

“Iz? You down here.” 

Izzy’s heart leapt and he so badly wanted to see Ed and he couldn’t help calling back to him. 

Ed looked relieved and happy to see him, “Bad morning Iz? Is there anything I can do?” 

“Sorry Eddie, just, nightmare.” 

“Ah, been having a lot of those myself. Keep seeing you die and I can’t save you,” Ed said. 

Izzy was relieved at that though he was sad at the thought the Ed was having nightmares. 

“We can do this Ed,” Izzy said, hoping he was right. It needed to be right, if he and Ed didn’t end up on top he had a feeling they would get dragged down never to get up again