#the destruction is stored in the ponytail

[peridoxikal-redux]

A dialogue option I wish the Builder had in Moonbrooke

[onesentencemusings]

New Customer - Pt 3 (Poll #2)

[Reposted with edited ending better suited to 'Cursed Cafe's tone]

(Part 1)

---

“I’m not sure what that is.”

“Suh-shy!” Captain Hook declared. “I’ve been getting it in the little clear boxes at the grocery store for my luncheons. A wonderful reminder of the sea whilst I pursue me passions on land!” 

The Potionista looked at Nomad standing next to Hook. The woman in yellow shrugged. “Hey don’t look at me. I’ve traveled across all Asia and I never heard of ‘suh-shy’.”

“Then you be a bigger con than I, me dear.” Hook shook his gold hook at the woman. “For suh-shy, I've been told, is Japanese cuisine.” 

“Japan-- Wait, are you talking about Sushi?” Potionista asked.

Nomad covered her eyes with her hands.

“Sue-she?” Hook twirled the tip of his mustache around his hook. “Hardly seems like the proper pronunciation.”

“Question:” Nomad put her hands down. “Can you read?”

Hook gasped in offense and stepped up to the woman. “Madam, you insult me! I’ll have you know before me pirate days, I went to the prestigious Eton College!”

Nomad smirked. “‘Went’ as in ‘you studied there’ or ‘went’ as in ‘hopped the fence to ogle the ladies’?”

“Eton is a boys school!” The pirate took a hooked swipe at the woman, who just managed to duck in time.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Potionista raised their voice. “No fighting!” 

“Oh, my apologies.” Nomad’s grin got bigger. “Did you hop the fence to ogle the boys… sailor.” She flopped her wrist limply at the captain. 

As Hook pulled back his hook again, the Potionista quickly leaned over the counter to grab the prosthetic. Both patron and employee froze and the Potionista saw a very distinct level of seething outrage happening behind Hook’s large stern eyes. The Potionista gently pushed Hook’s hook down. Now to think of something that would give the world’s most incorrigible pirate captain something to think about. 

… 

Thinking was hard; just say something. “I’ll ban you.”

The captain took a very deep breath, still staring the employee in the eyes, before throwing his head back in a hardy laugh. He pulled his hook from the Potionista and grinned. “Bold, me bucko, very bold. Normally, I’d never allow this kind of insubordination but...” The captain glanced at his spot in the back of the cafe. The true-blue pirate flag posted to the bathroom door. “You’ve helped me sail rather rough seas and I’ve forgiven me first mate for worse, I suppose.” Hook gave the slightest of waves and the smallest head bow. “I shall abide… for now.” With that, the captain returned to his landline phone in the back and started dialing numbers.

Nomad stepped up to the counter with an eye roll. “You don’t have to stick your neck out for me, ya know.” She said, “I’m a big girl, I can do my own hair and everything.” She pulled her short smooth swoop of a ponytail around her neck to show it off.

“I kinda have to if you keep going around making people angry like that.” The employee wiped down the counter. “I’ve had enough fighting in this job already, from some people.” The employee looked at Jafar and Maleficent, neither of which even noticed the slightly raised tone of voice from behind the counter.

Nomad scoffed and put her hands on her hips. “Bubbie, if I’m not making someone mad by just existing, I’m not leading a life worth living. People being mad means you’re challenging their world. And that’s the first step to changing minds.”

The Potionista did agree with the sentiment, but this kinda crowd had a habit of disagreeing destructively. “Well, maybe you can change minds elsewhere once in a while.”

“I’m about to! Which is what I need your help with.” The woman smiled. “I need one of those Beasty potions or whatever they’re called. Something to make me part-animal for a bit.”

“You need to be part animal?” The employee asked. “What for?”

Nomad shrugged. “I set up my charity and Jafar and Cruella’s donations helped me kickstart the basics but I need influence and word of mouth to get the camel really running. And I found the perfect targets!” She clapped her hands together. After a moment, she started glaring at the Potionista, batting her eyes in an obnoxiously fast manner.

Oh, she wanted to be asked.

The Potionista sighed and unscrewed the cap of their water bottle “Who’d you find?” They smiled before taking a sip.

“Furries!”

The employee’s gut reaction made them choke on their water, spitting a tiny amount of it on the counter. They gulped what was in their mouth down and coughed for a moment. “Furries?!”

Nomad grabbed the wash rag and wiped the counter down. “Absolutely! I spent all last night researching them.”

The Potionista had a heavy inhale and put their head in a head. They leaned on the counter as they exhaled. “Hoo boy.”

“Get this; It’s a huge community that’s not only well-connected to each other, but in businesses. There’s furries all over; media corporations, tech giants, financial pillars, everything! And with all the conventions and ‘peripherals’ they have, they all got disposable income.” Nomad leaned onto the counter. “Do you know how much one of those full-body costumes they have costs? Five thousand dollars!”

The Potionista tucked their water bottle away. “Oh yeah, the really good ones are super expensive and you gotta be really careful about dirt and sweat. It’s a lotta work.” The employee saw Nomad give her a confused look. “Uh, so I’ve been told. Uh, heard, I mean.”

Nomad shook her head. “Sure, bubbie. Anyways, I’m gonna infiltrate a big con they got going on downtown and I need to blend in. And since I am absolutely not spending thousands on a costume for just one day, I need a potion. So, chop chop. Uh, please.”

“Uh, sure. Coming right up.” 

The Potionista flipped open the potion book and flipped to the Savage Shake potion. She’s gonna use this to meet furries. The thought made the employee hit their forehead with the edge of the book. In went the ingredients, about a minute of boiling, she’s going to use this to meet furries, and the Potionista slid the finished brew to the sorceress without making eye contact.

Nomad finished the drink in one fast swig and turned the glass upside down on the counter. A sudden poof of magic enveloped her and quickly fell away. Maybe actually wanting the potion made the effect stronger because Nomad was a lot more changed than the other times the Potionista had ‘accidentally’ switched orders on villains that were being too demanding.

Rather than adding a simple fluffy squirrel tail, the potion gave Nomad a long elegant lion tail ending with a reddish-brown poof of fur. Her hands were now broader, paw-like and tipped with claws. Her ears were wider and rounder and even her skin turned a tawny color instead of its usually deep tan.

The woman’s exclamation at her transformation came out more like a growl than a gasp. But she was smiling, relaxed, extending her new claws in admiration. Despite that, the employee could see a lot of the villains giving them a glare. The Potionista just pointed at Nomad. Not their fault, not this time.

Nomad’s new tail flicked forward so she could see it. “Nice. So, do I look like a furry?”

The Potionista cringed slightly. “Yes, yes you do.”

“Good! Then I’m off!” With a pounce-like spring in her step, Nomad charged out the front door into the city.

“No taking pictures or hugging without express permission!” The Potionista called out after the woman. The glares of the other villains took a much more confused look. “Uh… it’s… just ‘cause it’s rude, ya know?” The employee shrugged nervously. “I assume.”

Cruella watched Nomad leave before scoffing. “Here’s hoping she causes as much chaos for those ‘furries’ as she does here. Any group of people willingly wearing neon green and pink together on fake fur deserves all the suffering they can get…”

-----

“All hands! I have an announcement!” The pirate captain bellowed most proudly.

“You wear a wig.” Nomad said, mouth half full of yakisoba. 

Hook frowned. “No. I-”

“You have worn wigs.”

“No! I-”

“You will be wearing wigs.”

“Woman! You will be quiet or else you shall taste me six pounders!”

Nomad dropped her takeout box on the free chair next to her and dug deep into her hiking backpack. She soon pulled out a teal bowling ball with gold flakes on the surface and held it above her head. “How about you eat my eleven-pounder!”

The Potionista leaned far over the counter, pointing at Nomad. “You throw that, you’re banned for life!”

The woman scowled and dropped the bowling ball on her table. “Tyrant.” She muttered.

Hook held his big bold nose up with a sneer before clearing his throat. “The first preview of my rewrite is in two days and I have generously decided to let the patrons of this establishment vie for a coveted seat to the dawn of Broadway’s new era!”

Immediately, every other patron in the cafe turned away, aggressively avoiding any level of eye contact, even more so than they normally did. Well, if they weren’t interested... “I’d love to go, captain.” The Potionista said with a smile. “If it’s after hours, of course.”

“Tis, my friend.” The pirate nodded. “I shall save you a seat. Why, if all goes well, I may even be persuaded to give a backstage tour, hmm?” There was a rare earnest nature about the captain’s mood, one the employee wanted to reward.

“And here I thought it’d be too much just asking for an autograph.” 

The captain held his head high, with a small chuckle and a rare beaming smiling.

“Is it still an authentic pirate story?”

The captain looked behind him to see Nomad standing next to him, thankfully without the bowling ball. Hook sneered. “Of course, it’s authentic, woman! I am a pirate; this tale is me own story!”

Plus a boat-load of lies, the employee worded silently behind a swig of their water bottle. 

“Besides what care have you for theater, drifter?”

The woman shrugged. “My dad told me lots of stories about his run-ins with pirates when I was growing up but he lied about everything so I was wondering if I’d actually learn about real pirates from the show.”

Hook’s posture shifted, relaxing ever so slightly. “Run-ins? Your father is a sailor?”

“Big merchant sailor from what I remember. Had a whole bunch of boats shipping cargo from everywhere.”

Hook started leaning in, a wicked grin sneaking across his face. “Oh, did he now? Do tell, m’dear.”

Nomad looked away, frowning. “What’s to tell? He’s chartered to sail for a bunch of bourgeoisie who’s whos that are too dumb and useless to sail and get their precious fancy whatevers themselves.”

“And where, pray tell, does he dock, may I ask?”

The Potionista knew what was going on. “Ok, captain, let’s not pry. She’s doesn’t--”

“I can give you a list of his usual ports if you want; doesn’t matter to me.” The woman shrugged again before marching to her backpack in the back. “The only reason I keep track is to not be in town when he is.”

“Um!” The employee leaned over the counter. “He’s a pirate!” They quickly looked to Hook with a hand up. “I’m not judging, ok? I’m just saying.” They looked back to Nomad. “And pirates and merchant sailors meeting on the high seas usually go only one way.” 

Captain Hook had a low evil chuckle, nodding. Nomad came back with a tiny notepad and ripped out one of the papers. Hook snatched the tiny list from the woman’s hand almost as fast as she waved it his way.

“But--” The employee sputtered. “That’s your father!”

“And he never did a good thing for me.” The woman growled. “In fact…” Nomad pulled Hook in close, breaking the man’s concentration on the list. “If you sink that evil codger, I’ll give you a little something from my own nest egg as a bounty. Something special from the desert, something I doubt many other seamen would be able to get their… hooks into.”

Hook glared and pushed into the woman. “You dare think me some mercenary for hire?”

Nomad pushed back. “I’m just saying, bring me his stupid fancy hat and I’ll give you some treasure. Easy.”

Hook shifted his weight to brace against the woman more. “Treasure by your standards, woman, or treasure by mine?”

Nomad growled and started trying to push Hook back with her shoulder. “I’ll get you gold, if you wanna be such a shallow vapid--!”

The shoulders of the two patrons slipped off each other and the pair’s heads crashed into each other before both fell to the ground. The Potionista looked over the counter as the rest of the cafe broke out into laughter. “You guys ok?”

“Fantastic.” Nomad rubbed her aching head. “I love concussions. Got a collection of em.”

With a fair bit of wobble in his movement, Hook managed to haul himself back to his feet with the counter rather quickly. “One of those…” The captain hooked into the counter as he suddenly started falling backwards. After a moment, he straightened up, looking slightly more dignified. “One of those ‘poof-away’ potions, Mister Sm-- I mean, Potionista. I must return to me ship at once!”

“Do not hunt down other patron’s fathers.” The employee said pathetically. “I can’t believe I have to say this.”

“I do not tell you how to run your ship!” Hook said, with a very slight drift off balance. “Do not ask me how I run mine. Besides…” Hook glanced at the woman still sitting on the ground. “She did only ask for a sunken ship and a hat.”

“I can hear you, ya wobble-legged bilge rat.” The woman grumbled.

The potionista sighed and started rubbing their temple. “Just steal the hat, ok?”

Hook gave a very neutral grunt in response, but the grin on his face was still evident. “Fine.” The employee sighed. Molten Candle Wax, Unfiltered Chaos, brew, fancy glass. The potionista kept their hand on the glass, even as Hook reached for it. “Just the hat.”

Hook scoffed and pulled the glass away. “What kind of savage cad do you take me for?”

“A pirate.”

The bluntness in the employee’s tone made the captain chuckle. “I always forget you are smarter than you look, my friend.” The man took a strong full swig of the glass and set it down before vanishing in a cloud of blue magic.

Nomad’s arm slapped onto the counter, and with an unhappy groan the woman finally stood back up. “Ya know, Barkeep, if you’re gonna be an insufferable goody-goody, maybe you should be the one running the charity.”

The employee set the glass into the powerwasher in the back. “Does that mean the… convention didn’t go well for you?”

Nomad stood up a bit straighter though still holding the counter for balance. “No, it went great. Met a lot of people with a lot to say on issues I can take care of to start making a name for myself.”

“Dare I ask?”

“Well, animal rights and protections of course… Because some people like fur more when it’s on the animal it comes from!” Nomad glared at Cruella.

The fashionist just made a disgusted noise, not even bothering to look up from her sketches.

“Yeah, they remembered you, bubbie. Nasty old-”

“What else did they talk about?” The potionista said, slightly raising their voice.

“Something called Hostile Architecture.”

“Hostile architecture?” The employee jumped from the Evil Queen’s sudden appearance at the counter. Her majesty had a very rare faint smile as she drew ever so slightly closer to the other woman. “Go on.”

“It’s like those metal bars they put in the middle of benches to keep people from laying down on ‘em or having concrete walls be slanted on the top so people can’t sit on them.” She shook her head frowning. “It’s just a bunch of wasted money meant to punish the homeless for having nothing at the cost of everyone being more miserable.”

“How interesting.” The queen purred. “You can grant public amenities designed to be nearly useless and there would be no revolts from the masses if you claim it will harm their own lessers?”

“Exactly! Just look at Yen-Sid Plaza by the docks.” Nomad waved at the door. “A huge open public space for people to hang out in after going to the beach or the boardwalk but there’s no places to sit or lay down so there’s no reason to go there. It’s just a huge slab of concrete with a big weird abstract fountain in the center.” 

The Queen glanced away, still smiling, and silently returned to her seat on the inside balcony.

“You could have food trucks, local vendors filling the whole place daily and get a huge community going but noooo, Shiva forbid we let people just exist.” A strange breeze swept across the counter as the woman huffed. 

“Soooo,” The potionista tapped their fingers on the counter. “Am I going to be getting involved in this or are you just venting?”

“I can take care of it, easy; I just worry about using my magic in public.” Nomad crossed her arms and looked away, looking more worried now than angry. “When people see real magic out in the open, they start wanting it for themselves. They’re savages.”

“That’s not true. No one bothers Ursula or Maleficent about their magic.”

“They have a reputation. They’re naturally intimidating.” Nomad shook her head. “I don’t look like anyone, so no one cares what they do to me.”

She didn’t look like anyone? The Potionista looked Nomad over again. Long-sleeve shirt with a two-hump camel on it. Brown-red pants. Big chunky silver bracelet on her right arm. Long-strap leather satchel with a tiny black lamp keychain. Wild curly dark brown hair held back by a yellow headband with a stone medallion on it. A tiny smooth swoop of a ponytail. And a green hoodie tied around her neck by the hood strings.

“You kinda look like a kooky aunt that’s always up to ten different new things everytime they show up to the family reunion.” The potionista eventually answered.

Nomad gave a single loud laugh before smiling. “I guess I am, aren’t I?” Her smile returned and she looked back at the employee. “Still not intimidating but better than nothing I guess.”

Hmm, what to do, what to do? They should probably try to sell Nomad a potion for the sake of the business… But so rarely did these people actually pay and Nomad mentioned not actually having money at all. On the other hand, the book never never talked about payments and really the Potionista just liked helping.

“If you’re still worried about people seeing you use magic, we have an invisibility potion that can hide you.” Hang on, was this aiding and abetting? 

“Yes! Give me that!”

This was probably aiding and abetting. Actually, this whole job was aiding and abetting. But if they helped Cruella get a flying car, what was activist-related destruction of public property in comparison? 

Coppered Water and Luminequeces into the brewer, then the fancy glass and the employee slid the potion across the counter to the woman. She downed the black brew in a fast swig and swiftly vanished in a cloud of black smoke. “No witch hunts today, bubbie! HahahahaaaAAAAAAAH!” 

Half of Cruella’s coat suddenly flew open, making the bony woman inside gasp in utter offense. Right after, Maleficent’s selfie stick got knocked down by an unseen force. The sorceress breathed an angry plum of green fire just as the cafe door was kicked open while Nomad giggled out into the street.

“Pardon me, dearie…” 

The Potionista turned to see Ursula leaning on the rim of her tub, looking ever so slightly concerned. It couldn’t have been for Nomad, right?

“Do Land Folk really… hunt witches?” The mer-woman said with a grimace.

“I don’t think humans have done witch hunts regularly for like 400 years.”

Ursula smiled widely and instantly relaxed. “Oh good! Good.” She slid down deeper into her tub. “Not that I was worried, mind you, but one can never be too careful these days when you’re--”

“A fish out of water?” The employee butted in, smiling.

Usrula’s smile vanished. “Ha. Ha. Ha.” She said sarcastically. “Tooooo funny. Ya come up with that one all by yourself, angelfish?” She shook her head and returned her attention to her orb. “Land folk only have one joke, I swear.”

----

“WHERE IS THAT SCURVY WENCH?!” 

The Potionista fumbled a bit before successfully catching their phone. They looked up through the purple haze of the new day in the cafe to see Hook wide-eyed, teeth-gritted and sword in hand. The employee’s eyes immediately went to Nomad’s sitting on her table, egg sandwich in hand.

Hook grabbed the stair railing and swung his sword at Nomad’s seat. The woman bolted towards Ursula’s tub and ducked behind the fake tree pillar.

“Captain, we talked about the sword!” The Potionista begged. “Not this early! Come on!”

“Yeah, I just woke up too! What’s going on?” Nomad peeked around the column only to instantly pull back. The pirate’s sword cut into the pillar, forcing a nearby Ursula to duck. The blade cleaved the sand illusion in the tree truck revealing the true support beam underneath very briefly. “You shall pay for your treachery with your blood, you vile vagrant!” Hook tried to pull his sword out but found the blade stuck in the beam. Ursula took the opportunity to hop out of her tub and scuttle to the far end of the counter.

“Treachery? Do you know how little that narrows what I did to you down? I make people like you mad for breakfast. ” Nomad glanced at her sandwich. “And…also during breakfast I guess.”

The captain braced a foot against the pole and gave his sword a few good yanks. The blade soon cut back out of the support beam and the force sent Hook stumbling backwards into the seat of an open chair. The pirate quickly jumped back to his feet with stomp and poised both himself and his blade perfectly upright. He quickly shifted into a strong fighting stance, sword pointed at Nomad. “En Garde!” 

Nomad put her sandwich down on the end of the stair railing and held her right hand out. A blue cloud of cold mist formed from her hand and flowed outward before solidifying into a bat. The mist twirled around the bat, conjuring a serpentine ornament made of mismatched scrap metal coiled around the shaft. She put the bat over her shoulder and braced herself. “Batter up!”

“Guys, can we not do this?” The employee raised their voice. “We just opened!”

Hook charged forward with a yell. Nomad swung her bat, beating the blade away. Hook spun about from the impact and swung his sword towards the woman’s other side. The metals of the bat and the blade clanged loud from the impact. The captain furiously pushed forward with fervent slashes, slowly driving his defending target into the back of the cafe.

The woman could see the front of the building slowly getting further away. There wouldn’t be much building left behind her. Hook knew how to handle a sword. She hardly knew how to fight. She never needed to learn. She always had her tricks. She smirked. She always had her tricks. 

Nomad braced her bat with both hands and took the full force blow, catching the blade against the metal snake. Nomad leaned in and spat a black puff of smoke before shoving the blade away.

Hook blindly swiped at a bit of yellow he saw dashing through the cloud with his hook. “Stand and fight, you coward!” He snarled, waving the smoke away.

“Coward?” Nomad grinned. “No one calls me a coward and lies! I mean lives!” Just stay in the open. Just have to keep moving. She backed up closer to the front as Hook caught sight of her.

Hook charged with a snarl, sword held back for another swing. Nomad quickly tapped Cruella on her shoulder as she ducked around a column. The fashion mogul just barely glanced up from her papers before screaming. In an instant, she snatched the end table in front of her and held it up, just in time to block the very tip of the blade. As Hook hurried after Nomad around the pillair, Cruella looked at the long single scratch mark on the table. “You tacky tactless boat-man!” She screeched. “This was hand-carved mahogany and you ruined it!!” The woman threw the end table to the ground in disgust and started pouting.

Gaston let out a high pitch squeal as he dove to the ground, just missing the sword slicing the cushions of his window-side couch. Jafar quickly bolted from his own seat nearby, ducking back momentarily to grab his umbrella cane, before scurrying off for the far back of the cafe.

Nomad hopped from the couch to the top of Jafar’s chair and stepped down to the table, Hook following close after. Metal clashed, sparks flew. The dueling patrons slowly ducked over and around the back line of seating and tables back towards the stairs again.

“You can’t run forever, woman!” Hook declared. “There’s nowhere you can go that I can’t follow!”

As Nomad stepped down from a chair head onto the table she always sat, she held a hand out to her backpack. A small trickle of sand flowed out of the nooks and pockets of the bag into her palm. “Wanna bet?”

The Evil Queen glared at both parties, now undeservedly close to her majesty, before silently and gracefully walking down the steps to join the others by the counter.

Nomad tossed the sand behind her onto the Queen’s now abandoned table. She beat back Hook’s blade hard and climbed over the railing to stand on the lone one-person table. 

Hook quickly vaulted the railing and jumped on the one-legged table too. He made a powerful blow down that Nomad blocked with her bat. Nomad made a strong effort to shove the man back over the railing but the pirate quickly braced himself and started pushing the woman back again. As the woman’s feet left the table, the trail of sand slid off and frozen in mid-air behind her. The sand solidified under the woman as Hook stepped closer to the edge of the table.

“I have you now, y-WAAAH!” The table tipped over under Hook’s weight and the pirate crashed chin-first into the stairs. Nomad stood mid-air as the man crumpled, rolling down the half-flight of stairs and pathetically flopped to a stop on the ground floor. Hook blinked through his dazed state to see the small table roll off the balcony and start bouncing down the stairs. The captain only had enough time to give a sad tiny pathetic little ‘no’ before the table slammed its full weight into his face.

The rest of the patron’s ‘ooo’ed before they started chuckling to themselves. The Potionista leaned over the counter as close as they could get. “Oh geez, is he alive? Someone check on him!”

“I’m on it.” Nomad slid down the railing and knelt next to the fallen captain. “Yoo-hoo, sailor.” She patted his shoulder before pinching his big nose. “You good in there?” She gently smacked both sides of Hook’s head as a thoughtless dazed smile spread across his slackjaw face. “Aw, Cap’n’s gone nappin’.”

The pirate started blinking before he started limply trying to sit up on his own. “Huh?! Uh, yes, yes…” He said in a daze. “I ssssuppose… your shavesss do relax me so, Mister Smee-heehee.” 

Nomad pointed at Hook with a laugh and looked at the Potionista. “I like him; he’s silly.”

“Oh thank goodness, he’s ok.” The employee sighed. The slurring swordsman threw an arm around Nomad’s shoulders and pulled himself partially upward. He made an attempt to hook his prosthetic around the railing, but missed, slipped off the woman and slammed back to the ground instead. “Well… he’s alive…”

Seeing the early day’s excitement was winding down, most of the patrons returned to their usual place, outside of the Queen who was clearly waiting for the peasants to get out of the way.

“Up you go, sailor.” Nomad pulled the man half-upright by the sweater tied around his neck. She hooked his prosthetic onto the railing for support and shoved the rest of the man high enough for him to shakily stand up. “And with all the grace of a newly birthed camel, he is on his feet, ladies and gentlemen.” Nomad declared before standing up too.

“What did you do to him, Nomad.” The employee kept their eye on Hook. Once Nomad stepped up to the counter, the Queen breezed past and made her way back up the stairs, nearly knocking a weak and shaky Hook off the railing as she went.

Nomad looked around before shrugging. “You just saw it, Barkeep. Don’t know what to tell ya.”

“You sent me on a mission of death!” The captain pointed at Nomad before clutching the railing in a panic as his legs fell underneath him. “Your father! No ship had he but a floating fortress! And his crew naught but fire-eaters and mystics!”

“Huh, thought he’d have traded out the fire-eaters by now.” She turned back to Hook, smiling. “Hey, did he do that thing where he shoots fireworks at his enemies to burn their sails?”

“Yes, he shot fireworks at me and nearly burned me sails!” Hook snapped back in a rather biting tone.

“Nomad, you should have warned him about that stuff.” The Potionista sighed.

Nomad threw her hands up in an even bigger shrug. “I said my father was privately hired by a bunch of rich losers to ship their most expensive imports. What part of any of that would make you think he’d be an easy target?”

“I will not stand--” Hook’s legs buckled under him for just a moment before the man forced himself upward. “I will not stand for this affront on me person! My sword! Where is me sword!?” 

The Potionista glanced at the rapier on the higher level of the staircase. Thankfully, Hook was only looking at the ground where he fell. Had to get this calmed down quickly. “No more swords, captain. You two need to talk this out like adults.”

Nomad stuck her tongue out, making a fart noise.

The employee waved Hook to the counter and looked at Nomad. “We start with an apology.” 

Nomad crossed her arms and looked away towards the door. 

“We’re waiting.”

“Yeah Hook, we’re waiting.” Nomad smirked.

Before the angry pirate could sputter out a response, the employee butted in. “No. You started this so you apologize first.” 

The woman scoffed. “You’re always after me for things.”

“Because you’re the one always causing problems.” And you’re about the only one that actually seems to listen. “Now apologize.”

The woman rolled her eyes but still looked at the captain. “I’m sorry… you weren’t good enough t--”

“No. Do it right.”

“UGH! Fine! I’m sorry I tricked you.” The woman huffed. 

The Captain scoffed and pouted even harder. “Apologies don’t fix the cannonball holes in me quarters, woman, nor make right your attempt on me person!”

“Well, I wasn’t trying to kill you!” She answered. “I thought my dad woulda been too old by now to still be able to put up a fight…” Her head shook back and forth for a moment before her angry expression dropped into something more genuine, “And I honestly thought you’d could do it, if you got the jump on him with my trade route plans.”

Hook was still pouting but his posture shifted. A little less aggressive with a raised eyebrow.

 “But hey,” Nomad continued, “you’re here which means you might be the only pirate that ever got a few shots on my old man and lived to talk about it. That’s something.”

A small but proud smile snuck onto Hook’s face. He put his hook behind his back and put his hand on his chest. “I was rather remarkably composed when that vessel came into view, if I do say so me’self.”

“And, if it’s any consolation, I’ve never met a man that takes a table to the head like you just did.” Nomad chuckled. “Trust me, when I hit a man with furniture, they tend to stay down. Yet here you are, on your feet already.”

“Well, me dear, I didn’t become captain simply because I am overtly dashing in the hat.” The captain beamed. “I earned every ounce of my station by me own strength and cunning.” 

“And yet I know men twice your age that can’t even manage to steal half as much glory.” The woman glanced in Jafar’s direction.

The Potionista couldn’t help but smile. They weren’t just not fighting, they seemed to be getting along! They wished they could congratulate them on the friendship but considering how Hook and Cruella reacted to being called friends, it’d probably be best to not call attention to the bond. Just let it be and enjoy it from a distance.

“Hey,” Nomad gave the counter a slap, bringing the Potionista back to reality. “If ya give me one of those poof-away potions, I’ll go fetch a reward for Hook for being a good sport.”

“On it!” The employee ducked down behind the counter and grabbed the recipe book. Anything to help people get along.

“Oh ho ho. Now see here!” The pirate shook his hook at the woman. “I see what you’re doing, little lady. Buttering me up and then hightailing it for the hills, are we?”

“Hey, if I don’t come back with something for you, I’ll never be able to come back at all, right?” The woman leaned in closer to the man. “And I still need a few things for my plans. So don’t worry, sailor, I’ll be back.” She pinched the very tip of the man’s mustache and gave it a very quick little twist.

The man pulled back from the touch, however his brief flash of irritation gave way to a vague sense of confusion. He started twirling the tip of his mustache with a mild glare as the potionista set the Teletonic in front of Nomad. “Be back soon.” The employee chirped.

The woman took a quick sip of the brew and vanished in a cloud. The potionista saw Hook’s gaze lingering on the magic mist quickly fading away. The pirate leaned on the counter, gave the other patrons a suspicious glance and started speaking quietly.

“Say, have I ever spoken of anyone like that… ‘Nomad’ before?”

The employee looked at the other patrons too. Like always, they seemed more than content pretending none of the others existed whatsoever. But this was still the closest the worker would ever get to having a secret bartender conversation like in the movies so they leaned in and spoke softly too.

“Like Nomad how?”

“I’ve been overcome with the most confounding sense of deja-vu.” The pirate shook his head. “Something about a green-wearing free spirit dueling me whilst using gold dust to fly about and evade me seems so… familiar.”

The employee instantly tried very hard to not show any change in expression.

“It’s the most blasted thing. It seems so… natural. So typical. As if this ‘green spirit’ is so unspokenly innate and integral to who I am that the realization that this being is no longer in me life makes me feel… incomplete in some strange way I’ve never felt before.” The man scratched his head with the side of his hook. “And yet for the life of me, I cannot imagine what this spirit could possibly be or even come from.”

Peter Pan. He was thinking of Peter Pan. But he couldn’t think of Peter Pan. On day one, the employee saw just how even hearing the name used to drive the pirate mad. But now with his rewrite nearing debut, all of Hook’s hard work would get wasted if he fell into old habits now. They couldn’t let him remember.

Besides, what they were going to say wasn’t really a lie. Assumedly.

“Well, you know, I read an article that said Deja-Vu isn’t actually your brain remembering some hyper-specific event in your past.” The Potionista said with a poker face. The captain put his hook on his chin, pondering. “It’s actually your brain realizing it’s never been in a scenario like the one you’re in and is just making you feel like you have experience so you stay calm.” 

Hook slowly started nodding. He was buying it. “Aye. Aye, the brain can play tricks on one’s self.” He leaned in closer. “Take it from a man that’s drunk seawater after being left adrift for five days.” He shook his head with a grimace. “Madness.”

Another cloud formed besides the two people talking and Hook was quick to back away. Nomad formed out of the cloud, potion glass in one hand, the other hand balancing a rather sizable turquoise chest wrapped in criss-crossing gold leaf on her shoulder. She dropped the chest on the counter and pushed it towards Hook. 

The pirate stuck his hook in the lockhole and threw the lid open. There was a nice pile of gold coins inside but they seemed haphazardly thrown over another smaller wood box and some dark brown bottle laid at the bottom of the chest. Hook examined one of the coins and gave it a quick bite. “Ah, very good.” The man dropped the coin and pulled out the wood box. “Now what be this.” 

“It’s my father’s private brand.” Nomad watched Hook open the box. 

The Potionista saw a picture on the lid and turned their head as far sideways as they could. Oh, it was a big sail ship… probably didn’t need to nearly tip over trying to look at it. Very pretty, though. Looked expensive.

Hook smiled eagerly and pulled out a thick well-wrapped cigar. He delicately dragged the smoke under his nose and gave a satisfied sigh. “An excellent wear, me dear, but sadly I’ve given up this particular vice.” He tapped his throat with the cigar. “Need to save me pipes for me show, you know.”

“Well, that’s why I put this in.” She pulled out the bottle and handed it to Hook. “Also my father’s brand.”

The pirate effortlessly hooked the bottle cork out and took a swig. After a moment to consider the flavor profit, Hook gave a sharp exhale and grinned. “Oh, most excellent.” He recorked the bottle and set it back in the chest. “I suppose this might just settle our affairs for now, madam.”

“Might?” Nomad said, strangely without her usual conniving smirk. “Oh, that’ll come back to haunt me if I don’t fix it. Wanna do lunch?”

“What?”

“Or breakfast, I guess. Time is just vibes to me.”

The Potionista leaned over the counter. “Look, I’m glad you two are getting along now but he did just try to kill you. Are you sure, Nomad?”

The woman smiled. “As a famous pirate once said ‘You can always trust a dishonest man to be dishonest; honestly, it’s the honest ones you need to look out for’. As long as I know he’s out to get me, he can’t catch me off guard.” She tapped the side of her head smugly.

“Ah, clever girl.” Hook said with a grin. “Very wise, that pirate.”

“That sounds like awful advice.” The employee stated. “And a bad life policy in general.”

Nomad started bouncing in place, shifting her weight from one side to the other. “Besides, all that fighting got me too worked up to just sit around here all day. So how ‘bout it, sailor? I know a place on the boardwalk that you might like.”

After a bit of a pause, Hook shrugged and smiled. “If you’re paying, I’d be a fool to refuse.”

“The only thing I ever pay for is a gym membership so I can shower.” Nomad stated. “I’ll just let you know when it’s time to run.”

“Wait, are you homeless?” The employee gasped.

“Madam, I accept your bargain!”

Nomad pulled the pirate close and took a swig of the Teletonic. Hook hurriedly grabbed the big chest from the counter before disappearing with the woman in a puff of smoke.

The employee took a step back. Nomad had been homeless this whole time and never said anything? On one hand, it felt like it almost should have been obvious; she didn’t call herself ‘Renter’ or ‘Land Owner’. On the other hand, the Potionista assumed with how social the woman was that there was at least a little friendship between them. The other villains scolded the employee when they sneakily swapped potions for better or worse but still kept them rather involved in their plans. 

Cruella knew they didn’t really care for the fashion drama but still spilled every ounce of gossip, libel and slander that came to her. Jafar openly turned his ear-pod volume up when the employee started talking about the damages of crypto but still proudly announced every symposium and stream about Wyshcoin to them. Even Maleficent would put down her selfie stick to answer the apparently-obvious questions about magic the employee had. 

Why did Nomad not talk about this before? 

----

The Evil Queen took a long steady graceful drink of her potion and vanished in a cloud of smoke.  “Counter’s open!” The Potionista called out, collecting the old heavy coins the monarch left behind. There were a couple sets of footsteps approaching as the employee tossed the coins into the cash register.

On one side of the front counter was Nomad, thankfully looking no worse for wear, taking a drink out of zero sugar Four Loki. On the other side was Hook, standing proud as usual, although the employee couldn’t help but notice a neat little seagull feather sticking out of the pirate’s knitted cap. 

“Alright, who’s first?” The Potionista smiled.

The two looked at each other before Hook stepped up. “On the contrary, me bucko, the lady and I are together.” He answered.

“You two are dating?!”

“What!” Nomad stepped back from the counter.

“Perish the thought!” Hook said utterly offended.

“Seriously?!”

“Poppycock!”

“Look, kid,” Nomad put a hand to her head. “We had fun yesterday but don’t go being parasocial on us. We just walked around and had a long lazy lunch together. Don’t think about it too hard.”

“And I, I feasted on the flesh of me greatest enemy!” Hook dramatically thrusted his hook in the air.

“Uhhhhhh…” The employee was afraid to ask.

“Behold!” Hook dug through his pants pocket and thrusted his prize in the employee’s face. It was a small plastic figure of an alligator that had clearly been stabbed all over multiple times and had its eyes clawed, or more likely hooked, out. The front left leg even seemed to have been bitten off and forcefully replaced with the point of a toothpick.

“You… ate a plastic crocodile?” The potionista said, confused.

“Technically it’s an alligator,” Nomad added “and it came with those fancy overpriced drinks at the restaurant. But yeah, I wanted him to try the fried gator bites there to make him happy.”

“And now that I, too, know the taste of my most enduring enemy, I see now the source of his persistence.” Hook grinned wickedly, staring down the tiny mangled toy held in his hook. “I, too, now hungry for his flesh. And on his day of reckoning, when that wretched beast lays slain at my feet, me and my men shall feast like never before! And we shall feast knowing that Captain James Hook cannot be conquered or defeated by even the most unnatural, savage, loathsome beasts Nature ever devised against Man!”

The potionista nervously glanced at Nomad. The woman shrugged. “Yeah, he liked ‘em.”

“Uh-huh…” The employee took a second. Hook was still looking rather intense. No, ‘manic’ was a much more accurate word. The Potionista took a few side-steps away from Hook and towards Nomad. “So, how can I help you.” There probably wasn’t any helping Hook in this state of mind.

“I need a potion to turn me into a pirate captain like Hook.” Nomad stated.

“Oooookay. Is there a reason?”

Nomad rolled her eyes. “No, I just thought it’d be fun.” She sighed before continuing. “We were at the beach and we found a crowd of sea lions on the beach. It was nice until I saw a bunch of them had old motor blade wounds on their backs.”

“Oh no! That’s awful! Poor things!”

“Ugh, damaged goods.” Cruella muttered. “Just put the blighters out of my misery if they can’t be used.”

“Too true, dear.” Ursula added. She gave a long dramatic sigh, sinking sadly into her tub. “Why, I had the most beautiful sealskin cape back in Atlantica. Made me feel like the creme of the coral. Oh, how I miss it.”

“Anyway!” Nomad raised her voice. “Me and Hook got to talking and we struck a bargain; He helps me make the beaches safer for the wildlife and I use my illusions to take his show up a notch.”

“Aw, of course I’ll help! Gotta look out for wildlife… but I still don’t know why you need to be a pirate captain for that.”

“Beacauuuuuuse!” Nomad clapped her hands together, grinning widely. “We’re gonna pillage the docks and steal all the boat motors!”

“What?” 

“Hook’s gonna let me borrow his crew for a night and we’re gonna steal every motor we can find so nothing can hurt the animals anymore. Then some volunteers I found open a sail shop so people will buy sails to replace the motors, for a little extra income.”

“Wait, is this about animals or money?”

Nomad scoffed. “The animals but we just so happen to also be making money. I just need to be a true pirate captain so the crew stays in line and don’t do anything worse than steal.” The woman clapped her hands together. “Come oooon. You must have something that can help me.”

The Potionista sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.” They dipped down behind the counter and flipped open the potion book.

As usual, the book seemed to flip through itself before settling on a never-before-seen page. The potion on the top was a bold red drink in a tall thin glass with a white swirly feather draped so eloquently over the rim. “Skill! Precision! Cunning! Boldness! Fantastic mustaches (where applicable)! Liquid leadership has a name and it’s the ‘Captain’s Bluster’!”

The other potion was shown in a small glass shaped like a cannonball. The liquid inside seemed layered, white, blue, white, blue, white, blue with a dull red form filling the small bottleneck to the rim. “Tame inner and outer seas with a steady (metaphorical) hand and a kind heart that has seen it all and still stays true. ‘First Mate’s Mule’.”

What to do, what to do…

------

Repost Note: After a bit of reflecting I felt the old chapter was way too intense for what the game it's set it and decided to delete it. If you're reading this I thank you for giving my story another chance. For those that didn't, I don't blame them.

Original Author's Note: This chapter took a while (it single-handedly doubled the length of the fic so far) but it also gave me a great appreciation for Captain Hook that I didn't have before. Looking up the original movie for character references and even finding this wonderfully done retrospective on Hook's entire career under Disney made me realize why this seemingly simple old school villain is always a part of Disney Villain group shots and media like this game. He's just THAT good.

--

(Part 2)

(Part 4)

[transkotone]

My new current hobby is making shitty fake n64 game cartridges

Testa-kart! The madness of Guilty Gear Strive, in a new fun kart racer!

Ky Kiske 64: Roar of the missing ponytail, a look at the masculinisation on Ky Kiske in his Strive appearance

At your Junes! Play as Nanako Dojima and take trips to your favourite store. Participate in a variety of mini games and fill your Junes meter

Sumireko: mystic student will feature mind blowing technology that renders psychic powers in 3D

The long lost port of The Phantom Pain has been found! It's amazing they had these graphics on the n64

Hsien Ko: Supernatural smackdown! A new beat em up in which you beat up hordes of supernatural monsters in stunning 3D destructible enviroments

Take control of the evil Adachi in his young years before he got his persona! Clear crimes as an underappreciated cop

Poem panic! Enter the competitive world of poem writing as Sayori as you compete with your fellow club members to win the school literature competition!

Fuuka Yamagishi lands in 3D in this critically acclaimed 3D platformer! Traverse Tartarus and the real world as you find the persona shards, and reunite S.E.E.S

Join Marisa in her adventure to master the master spark! Weild powerful magic as you hone your abilities!

[the-weirdos-mind]

And More OCs

Name: Thurio Ahmakish

Age: 17

Species: Human

Class: Sophomore, Class B

Dorm: Ignihyde

Homeland: Queendom of Roses

Looks: Brown hair, dark blue eyes with a pair of thin glasses over them, safety goggles on his neck, Caucasian skin, Ignihyde uniform with a lab coat over it, pen with a cyan blue magestone in his pocket, 5’8

Personality: Geeky, nerdy, scientific genius, incompetent schemer, petty, friendly at times, kind at times, overly dramatic, a bit stupid, eccentric and clueless

Signature Spell: Explodinator, allows him to place a self destruct button on anything and the object will self destruct once the button is pushed

Twisted from Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz from Phineas and Ferb

~~~~~~~

Name: Cato Sphixeon

Age: 18

Species: Slight mutated human

Class: Junior, Class E

Dorm: Ignihyde

Homeland: Shaftlands

Looks: Pitch black hair in a small man bun, brown eyes with a scar under his right eye, midnight blue skin, Ignihyde uniform with pen in his pocket with a cyan magestone, 5’6

Personality: Childish, petty, nervous, stubborn, cowardly at times, a bit quiet, scientific genius, dense, a bit of a suck up, can be nice when needed, nerdy, inventive

Signature Spell: Not All That, allows him to temporarily turn back time to suit his needs

Twisted from Dr. Drakken from Kim Possible

~~~~~~~~

Name: Fanner Igor

Age: 17

Species: Slight cybernetic-mutated human

Class: Sophomore, Class D

Dorm: Ramshackle

Homeland: the Island of Woe

Looks: Shoulder length black hair, hazel eyes, somewhat pale skin, metal bionic left arm that stores all his magic, Night Raven Collage uniform with a pen with a blood red magestone, 6’3

Personality: Loyal, brave, honest, self reserved, distant from strangers, elusive, dangerous in a fight, ruthless at times, headstrong and resilient

Twisted from Bucky Barnes/the Winter Soldier from Marvel

~~~~~~~~~~

Name: Stephanie Alcayna

Age: 16

Species: Human

Class: Freshman, Class C

Dorm: Ramshackle

Homeland: Shaftlands

Looks: Long brown hair with a green streak in a ponytail, green eyes, goggles on her head, light tan skin, Night Raven Collage uniform with a dark green magestone, 5’3

Personality: Intelligent, scientific, geeky, understanding, kind, supportive, always willing to help, ruthless when pushed, obsessive at times, manipulative if needed, a bit impulsive

Twisted from Varian from Tangled the Series

~~~~~~~~~~

Name: Castor

Age: Five

Species: Mutated human

School: Black Pearl College

Looks: Short pink hair, dark skin, brown eyes, a smaller version of a Black Pearl Collage uniform, 40 inches tall

Personality: Mischievous, playful, curious, outgoing, and nice

Twisted from Morph from Treasure Planet

~~~~~~~~~~

Name: Khünbish Khadak

Age: 18

Species: Human

Class: Junior, Class A

Dorm: Savanaclaw

Homeland: the East

Looks: Shoulder length dark brown hair, yellow eyes with black sclera, somewhat pale skin, muscular, Savanaclaw uniform with a pen with a gold magestone in his pocket, fur lined boots, a glove on his right hand, 6’7

Personality: Arrogant, ruthless, sarcastic, merciless in a fight, sadistic, brutal, confident, and a bit hypocritical

Signature Spell: Falcon’s Eye, let’s him see from the nearest bird’s point of view

Twisted from Shan Yu from Mulan

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

Name: Anwir Kongelige

Age: 17

Species: Human

Class: Sophomore, Class D

Dorm: Pomifore

Homeland: The Western Cays

Looks: Dark ginger short hair, freckles on his face, gray eyes, causation skin, fair built, Pomifore uniform with a pen with a dark purple magestone in the pocket, 5’9

Personality: Proud, ambitious, manipulative, kind (as a facade to trick people), entitlement, power hungry, intelligent, adaptable, quick thinking, resourceful, cruel, cold, liar, and apathetic

Signature Spell: Frozen Heart, allows him to turn anything he touches into an ice statue

Twisted from Hans from Frozen

@adrianasunderworld @anxious-twisted-vampire @achy-boo @mangacupcake @marrondrawsalot @writing-heiress

[moon-blogx]

The ridges on my skin,

Show the pain from within.

Pain I thought I had washed away,

Though now it appears the rain wanted to fester and stay.

Misery lingers over me,

An umbrella protecting me from letting anything in

Memories of a year were cut away and gone 

Yet they grow back like weeds in my lawn.

I lay around everyday,

Eaten by my bedsheets,

I accept my decay, 

Morally and physically 

I am not who I used to be.

Sucked in by the appeal of nothingness.

I should be feeling happiness?

The only thing that my morals rival,

Is my own sorry survival.

I walk around, a jester, a play,

A Shakespearean tragedy on display,

For others to enjoy.

Except, I’m not even an actor,

But a mere player, a factor,

In others greater scheme.

Compromising myself is the mean,

To try to scrape up anything

That could lead to a new begginning.

I am loved.

I am okay?

I am not that girl anymore.

I no longer have that school in store,

I am no longer the girl who’d walk around with her head held as high as her ponytail,

Now I am someone who is too fearful to fail.

Yet I am her, she’s part of me

She sees the things I see.

She sees herself,

Points and asks,

“What have I become, Randall?”

Then she says a prayer and lights a candle.

Though, a blessing

Could not save someone so distressing,

So destructive and unproductive,

Like a rainstorm at the beach under the warm sun.

I smash things beneath me,

Though there’s nothing much.

I try to be normal, and in doing such,

I am no longer the girl that I am.

Instead, a puddle of acidic rain on the floor,

And an umbrella, discarded at the door.

[cfdxsaz]

good courthouse ailes bedrooms belly movuies bedrooms bushcraftts dmx black stores environment phonmes corners ponytailed survelliance kidnappers destruction business congress buildings middle south memphis tennessee kentucky fried chicken south parkway equalizer mouvies middle aile underwear jeans with meium hair zones wedding churches black side door boats with phantom glide boat sized with access ories appointed materialed dinnings cdfvg fortressed candled ccdfvvgt matches longed with plated/glassed/float hang chandliers candl e holders and candl es and pillowed exit side mattressed mattrsses stepped down to party orji and nicki minajj bedroomed side long hair salon appointments snow mattressesed boras family heads bed laids bodies kidnapped zones heaven and hell gates heil must return to earth and candace marie hughes candace marie hughes and candace marie hughes blood. on. paid. vvoiced on paid. mail kiy key card dh to candace marie hughes. on. paid. vvoiced paid. release all on probation and parole. paid. nnnhjm jails release candace marie hughes. paid.

[incubito]

Rickon Stark, like many children born near or after the outbreak, had only ever known death and destruction. He had only been a year old when his mother was claimed by a sickness unrelated to the virus. He couldn't remember her now, and only knew about her thanks to his father. Cregan spoke fondly of his dearly departed wife, and still wistfully recounted their time together. Rickon had inherited her fair skin and little else. There was no denying that he was a Stark. Between his gray colored eyes and his head of dark wavy hair, he was definitely Cregan's boy. Everybody always told him that he looked just like his father.

Wherever Rickon went, his father was close by. So many children were lost during the outbreak, and Cregan had done everything in his power to make sure Rickon was never out of his sight. Rickon was old enough now that he could defend himself if necessary, but remained skittish in the face of real danger. It was curiosity that made him wander away from the cautious eye of his father. Having been through nearly the entirety of the second floor, Rickon was certain that there wasn't another living soul to be found there. Upon seeing two men he made the smart decision of retreating back to the store where he had left his father. "Rickon." Cregan's voice is stern and loud enough to carry through the hunting store. Behind a diorama of taxidermy animals, a hulking man with a beard and long hair tied into a ponytail steps forward. He wore a dark colored flannel, and jeans that hugged massive thighs. Cregan gets down on one knee to gather his son, paying little attention to the pair of survivors who had rescued him. He picks the boy up beneath his arms so he can look him over. Compared to his father, Rickon was absolutely tiny. "Are you okay?" He asks the boy who nods swiftly before throwing his arms around Cregan's neck before burying his face there. Finally the man looks at the zombie on the floor and the pair before him. "Thank you." Cregan had his weapon stashed on his back along with a heavy backpack brimming with pilfered goods and supplies. "I don't know what I would have done if he had gotten bit. I owe you one." Cregan approaches the pair, holding Rickon against him before extending a calloused hand to shake Jace's own. Luke is standing partially behind Jace, ready to swing at a moment's notice. But from their interaction thus far he can tell the man would never do anything to put his cub in danger. "Rickon normally doesn't wander off. We're lucky it was just you two and not someone dangerous." He sets his son down on the floor who then tucks himself behind one of Cregan's legs. "Cregan. You've already met my son, Rickon. It's nice to meet you both." His words were sincere, and in his own grey eyes a warmth glimmered beneath them.

They had supplies, but finding more, keeping their current temporary home (though how 'temporary' a place you've sat in a year in relative safety can be defined, he is not sure) well stocked, was imperative. That had been all that had really saved them through this past half-decade, where many were lost to madness, to the virus, to starvation, to death in some other horrible way. Family that had clung to one another - he and his brother oft went out on their own in order to get some. It is safer for their parents to stay with the younger siblings, even if Joffrey scoffs at being left behind, especially now.

He doesn't find a lot of joy in it, in anything really, other than the moments at home when he might be playing with his siblings, able to forget what they are dealing with. How the world has gone to Hell, nearly literally. Electricity is gone in most places, flickers on occasion in others. Clean water is hard to come by, most of it contaminated by the virus now, and finding a way to test is even more difficult.

This place was decrepit, falling to pieces, but still had salvageable goods. Already, he'd nearly filled his pack with clothes, for their siblings were rapidly out-growing their own, and without new supplies filtering in, it was all they could do, and blankets, for the winter was quickly approaching. Luke's pack would have to hold the lighter goods, if they could find anything worth taking, from the hunting store.

Though that priority was pushed back. They had younger siblings, and a child, clearly not infected, in danger? They couldn't abandon him. Luke was far better with others, less serious, a more sincere tone and face, but even then, the child had run off. Vanished.

"Damn." Jace mutters, before glancing to his brother. They can't leave the boy here alone, as alone as they perceive him to be, a recognition clear his brother's returning gaze. The glance is enough to follow after him, a bow in hand, an arrow knocked, though he has more efficient means in the form of a revolver easier to grab, though the sound draws more of them out. It is why they prefer more silent methods, a bow or a bat, rather than efficient. Jace has not missed a target, even a moving target, since he was 10. He was not about to start now.

"We have to find him." There were already too many bodies to step over, and the longer they stayed, the more likely they were to run into the undead. It was a necessary risk to leave home at all, but even staying there too long carried the same. Which is easier said than done in a large store, despite how clearly it's been picked through. They are not the first people to search here, but they might be more resourceful, once they're able to look properly. Once they find the kid. "Split up. We'll find him faster."

Of course the kid ran into the biggest store this side of the abandoned mall. Already he can hear footsteps, but not those of a child, or even a real person. Dragging, slow. Perfect. His brother has already walked off, and Luke can handle himself, just as he can, but that kid looked to be around their sister's age, too young to be out here, especially alone.

There's one - across the way, hasn't spotted him yet, slowly moving forward. Some are fast, some not so much, and this one is the latter, an easy kill, once he's sure the kid isn't in the way, too close to the creature (for they could hardly be called anything else now), doesn't want to be responsible if the kid is infected in some way. Why did he run off? The good news is, he can see the dark hair poking out by some clothes, the same shade, must be the same boy, and it isn't too close to the creature, so long as he stays put. Locking eyes, brown with grey, Jace does pause, before lifting the bow and shooting past him, striking the single undead figure down. He keeps stepping forward, eyes glancing around, looking for more, before he steps before the boy. "Are you alright? You're not alone, are you?"

[aetheternity]

Synopsis: Just headcanons for Scaramouche with an S/O that has a similar personality to his. (Cause I think it'd be funny).

A/N: Happy birthday to our favorite baby girl Wanderer/Kuni/Scaramouche. When I tell you writing this took every ounce of energy right outta me so everyone better enjoy it.

CW: small mentions of blood / torture and abuse. Otherwise fluffy scenarios. No gender specified.

Introduction

Your boss had worked alongside the Fatui for the entirety of his adult life. Getting them information on people around Teyvat, hosting events for new recruiters and even paying for their weapons on occasion. He'd taken you in after you'd been abandoned only a year prior by your parents. You were too destructive for the rich, privileged lifestyle you'd been born into, he'd explained.

You hadn't seen them since your boss had taken you in. You soon found out later that they'd suffered an early demise. Eventually you discovered that you weren't completely human, his research coming across at least three different traces of elemental energy within your body. You didn't use a vision nor did you need one. However you had no idea how to go about using all the elemental power stored within you.

So for many years to come he extracted your blood for testing. Hooked you up to more machines than you could remember in the hopes you would find a way to focus the energy and use the elements currently dormant within you. The experiments did have a slightly positive effect. To some degree these new powers were active and you managed to use them on occasion just not for too long and not without intense strain on your body.

On the last day you'd seen him was the first day you'd truly experienced what you imagined freedom to be. He'd released you from the lab. Sent you off to what he'd described as one of the recruitment meetings he went to every few months. He'd told you today would be your first time leading the meeting but before you'd even arrived you were attacked.

It didn't take long for your powers to fail and you were bruised, beaten and nearly killed by Fatui members. Just before you'd truly blacked out you heard retreating footsteps followed by a voice you could barely register as the world turned cold.

☆

The bed you awoke in was warm as was the light that stretched across your face from the curtains you couldn't recognize. You glanced to your left confused by the glass of water by the bedside table you'd never seen in the lab before. You sat up stretching a hand out to touch your forehead confused by the bandage covering it.

Before you could say a word a woman you didn't recognize peeked her head in. Her eyes growing wide before she shut the door exiting the room. When she returned you noticed a man standing behind her. His red hair tucked into a ponytail. He slipped past the maid and with a nod she left.

"You look well. Surprising for what occurred only the night before."

"What is this? Who are you?"

"This is hospitality, welcome to the Dawn Winery. I hope we can get to know each other a bit more while you stay."

That was only the beginning. The time before you'd discovered the truth about your parents. The untimely death they'd shared at the hands of your former boss and how he'd almost done the same to you after finding your talents too costly to continue funding.

For three years after you'd been attacked on the streets you spent your life under the watchful eye of Master Diluc and the staff of Dawn Winery. He'd helped you obtain all the information you desired about your past and allowed you to train your skills as much as you could until the day you chose to part from his care for good.

"Stay safe then. If you need help in the future Dawn Winery will be here." You exhaled sharply not being able to stop yourself from latching onto him. You heard him chuckle and felt his chin against the top of your head. His arms around your shoulders.

Someday you'd find a way to properly repay him and someday you would be the hand that ended your former boss' life. Until then you would take time for yourself and properly experience the world you'd never saw.

☆

You realized how little you'd learned about mora management when you traveled into Sumeru nearly flat broke. Your time in Liyue well spent (literally). So to keep from starving to death you took up odd jobs in the Grand Bazaar. The hustle and bustle was quite hard to adapt to and interacting with customers had been more than a bit of a learning experience. But you'd succeeded with flying colors.

It wasn't a bad gig either. You could watch the performances of Nilou and some of the other dancers when your boss left the stall up to you. Your new boss being quite different from your first one as he was closer to you in age and quite understanding.

In your time working you helped many repeat customers but one in particular had caught your eye. He wasn't dressed like a Sumeru resident and he always wore that ridiculously big hat atop his head.

"Just some Sunsettias, thanks." He always ordered fruit from you. While he didn't come around everyday or anything you still found yourself looking out for him on occasion. You told yourself it was simply because you enjoyed the jokes that rapid fired in your mind regarding his hat but after a while..

"Ah, don't tell me you're looking out for your favorite customer." Your boss chuckled

"And how do you figure that, Rainer?"

"You never wanna leave the stand anymore. You must have at least one favorite customer you absolutely have to see." Rainer scoffed, shouldering the heavy crate he'd mentioned to you only minutes before.

"Interesting that your assumption is that I have a favorite customer and not that I just don't care to lift crates all day." You accentuate your point with a 'hmph'

"Sure, I'll take your word for it, Name. I hope he comes for your sake."

"You're so annoying." You sigh

He didn't come that day however. Actually you were starting to believe your mysteriously dressed customer had finally moved nations. That was until you peeked across the Bazaar one day to see him drifting between stalls. He'd stopped at one just across from you and you stared. You blinked harder as if you were somehow conjuring him in a dream and blinking would awaken you.

He only spoke with the carpet salesman for a couple minutes before he was turning around and heading toward you. You willed yourself to react normally however all you could competently do was stare near dumbfounded at him.

"Hello?" He said, his tone a bit harsh

"Yeah, what do you need?" You find your voice.

"I was asking for my normal order." He replied quickly

"Sure I can get that for you."

The normal silence you've grown accustomed to in this stranger gave you an odd feeling this time. As though there were a sort of topic hanging loosely in the air. This interaction didn't have nearly the same emotions that all the previous ones brought upon you. You didn't make a single joke in your head as you piled fruits into a bag before handing it to him and he didn't immediately rush off after giving a short, firm thanks.

"There's this.. spot in Gandharva Ville.. you can see the entire forest from this tree it's the tallest one there. If you're interested in a quiet place to do your writing." He points to the notebook placed atop the counter. Before you could say a word he tossed some mora down, grabbing his bag and quickly heading off.

For a second you stand there purely lost on how to react any further. Your notebook? How'd he even know you enjoyed writing in it?

"You are going right?" You flip around to see Rainer stood just behind you his hands on his hips.

"Why would you care?"

"He's probably going to be waiting for you there, you should go."

"He's just a random customer, it was just a suggestion. Doesn't mean I have to take it."

"A suggestion that would ease your life. He's been watching you I just know it!"

You scoff, banging your hand against the table in front of you. "What will get you to stop talking the fastest?"

"If you agree to go obviously."

"You seriously need a date or something." You grumble, he crosses his arms with a silent glare. "What? I was just joking."

☆

The tree is far better looking than you could've imagined. With a view that seemed as though it could truly never end. The climb had grown rougher as you reached the tops of the branches. The foliage thicker and harder to see through. You find yourself nearly stunned from the branch you'd grabbed, grappling onto a foot you hadn't seen.

Before you could fully let go an arm stretched out to tug you up atop the same branch you'd almost latched onto before. Finally you were met with the same customer you'd been fixated on for who even knows how long now.

"Told you." He says simply, pointing out at the landscape. "No need to thank me, you were always scribbling like the noisy Bazaar bugged you. Well, there isn't much of that out here."

"So you have been watching me?"

"Don't flatter yourself I merely noticed you." He'd replied folding his arms and returning his attention back to the scenery.

"I'd only be flattered if you were someone important. Seems that big hat is carrying a bit of ego too."

He smirks with a scoff, "It's a long way down you know. I suggest you maintain a level of respect especially since you wouldn't have known about this place if not for me."

You huff proudly, "And here I was thinking you didn't want bragging rights."

The first time the two of you eat together

"What are you eating for lunch today?" Wanderer asks as he pays his mora for his usual order.

"I don't know." You shrug

Wanderer had started stopping by a bit more frequently per week. Twice a week now as opposed to the four times a month he'd been doing before. It'd started after you'd climbed the tree to meet him in Gandharva Ville. He'd stayed with you the entire time as you scribbled down notes. Notes regarding your latest performance with the training you did outside of work. He hadn't said too much as you wrote, didn't even say much in the coming days when he'd returned to your stall.

Today however, "There's an eatery nearby. I've never eaten there but I'm going today."

You tilt your head a bit. Slowly muddling over his words. "You're inviting me to join you?"

"I'd have no other reason to bring it up." He crosses his arms.

"Oh, do you plan on getting me whatever I want?" You tease

"Don't be ridiculous I just meant we should go there not that it was some sort of gesture of affection."

"Silly me, I could've sworn in all of your returns to my stall and almost exclusively mine that you'd been looking for someone to hold at night."

He clicks, his teeth with a long exhale. "Forget that I even asked." And with that he high tailed it away. You weren't sure if you'd seen it correctly but you could've sworn you noticed a light pink bloom along his cheeks.

"Seriously?" Rainer huffed smacking the broom he was holding against the floor with a hand positioned on his hip. You merely sighed rolling your eyes and choosing not to engage. Thankful when he didn't push the topic further and just began sweeping again.

☆

Once your break actually did begin you found yourself taking a walk down Treasures street. Your shoes clicking along as you peer between the buildings and around the recreational spaces. Until you'd strolled into the Tavern at the end of the street. Your senses soon greeted by the warmth of the atmosphere and the scent of grilled meat and Charcoal cakes.

You turned to seat yourself at the table in the farthest corner when you saw something that peaked your interest instead. Unconsciously your lips upturned and you headed in the direction of his table seating yourself in front of him.

He doesn't say a word, just glares a bit but you decide to pay it no mind, grabbing your book from your satchel to begin your normal day to day scribbles. You flip to the page before it and read over the notes you'd take the day before only to be interrupted as you scan.

"What are you always scribbling in that book?"

"My progress." You remark without looking up.

Wanderer simply sighs, "Do you want the rest of this? It's not bitter enough for my taste." He slides his plate across the table to you setting his elbows onto the wood.

You take up his offer, taking a quick bite before returning to your book. Though you quickly look up again to see him staring back at you. "Thanks for the food." You say with a smile. He blinks down at your book instead of answering. "It's just notes based on my training regimen. Everyday that I push myself past my previous limit I write down how well I succeeded and how much of my powers I can use currently without fainting or feeling weak."

"How well does it normally work?"

"In the last week I've made no progress." You sigh with a shake of your head, jotting down the hours you spent hitting targets you'd set up with bolts of lightning. "Happens pretty regularly though, sometimes I can go two to three weeks without progress."

He grows silent laying his back against the wall behind his chair. You find yourself thoroughly enjoying the silence however as you'd never experienced enjoyment in being around anyone like this before. Rainer never shut up, always feeling as though he had to keep things from getting too silent. And you definitely couldn't tell him anything because of how loud he talked.

"Your spelling is atrocious and so is your handwriting in general." He randomly butt in.

"Oh, so we're telling the truth now?" You sit up, slapping your pen down on the table.

"You're the one that sat here. You could've gone anywhere else." He pulls the pen from where you'd laid it down taking your notebook as well. A bit forcefully.

"Hey." You grumble walking around the table as he begins to write in your book. When you peek over his shoulder, you notice him slowly correcting your spelling, crossing words out and rewriting them. "Who said you could write in my book?"

"Did no one every teach you how to write? Seriously.. your spelling, the way your words dip down the page. You must go through twenty pages in a week and a half."

"I never asked for your opinion." You grumble, though it doesn't have the bite you'd like.

He slides the chair next to him out and points to it without looking up. "Hurry up and sit I'm going to show you proper spelling and punctuation."

When you get into a fight.

You felt particularly pumped today so when a group of eremites bugged you while you took your normal walk up to Gandharva Ville, you didn't mind settling the score with them. It'd been fairly easy to beat them down though you did feel a bit fatigued by the time the last one fell. You heard the click of shoes and as you turned around you saw the one and only Wanderer walking up the path.

He slid a heel into an unexpectant eremites chest causing the poor sucker to wheeze before flopping against the ground.

"So these guys were your doing, huh." He kicked up some dirt stopping in front of you.

"Yeah, I nailed it. I think that was the best I've ever fought." You pant, trying your hardest to catch your breath.

"And yet you seem-" A yell makes the two of you turn and before you can properly make out the new group of eremites jogging your way. Wanderer shoves you back. "Get out of here, now."

"I don't need help, I can take them!" You grunt, you launch yourself at one, electricity surging in your fist but it quickly dies away. "Ugh!" Suddenly your collar is snatched and you feel warm arms around you. For just a couple seconds you peer back at Wanderer as he holds onto you, a large slender staff coming down against his back. He grunts angrily and then the warmth is ripped away and you're being shoved again.

"Fuck off already!" This time you actually do leave, hightail it all the way into the forest and beneath a tree as the sounds of shouts die down.

You try once more to conjure literally any of the elements you wield but soon find yourself frustrated and a bit dizzy. When you flop to the ground, your journal flips open, colliding with the mud. You shake the gross substance off with a grunt and as you do the pages flip open a smidgen. Along the margins are tiny words. You recognize Wanderer's handwriting. Snarky comments and tiny arrows he'd drawn to indicate things that needed to be fixed.

You gulped reading it all over again. You slide your back up the tree edging yourself forward to head back but before you can you're greeted with a dejected Wanderer. He rubs his elbow with a deep sigh and when you approach he puts a hand out taking a step back but you ignore it.

Your arm slides warmly around to his back and you can feel the scratches where his clothing was ripped. He doesn't acknowledge your affection nor does he embrace you back. Opting to stand still as you hold him.

"You're warm.. but.."

"I'm not human.." He says as though he'd guessed your thought process. You can't quite tell how he's feeling from his words alone. You let him go and he staggers back a bit.

"Let me.. take care of your wounds at least."

"Don't bother." He shakes his head but he doesn't leave. You almost want to kick him for how stubborn he's being.

"It's my fault you got injured just let me take care of it. Consider it payment in some way for the time you wasted teaching me how to spell."

He doesn't reply for a minute you think he's going to turn around and walk away. His eyes shifting back up the path but instead he takes a seat where he's stood. Your eyes grow wide and you rush to his side quickly realizing you don't have much to patch him up with and instead just work to clean his injuries.

"Well if you're not human, what are you then?" You ask as you rub a thin scratch along his back with alcohol rub. He doesn't speak and for a second you think he's ignoring you but his words soon come. Mumbled and low as he says the words,

"I'm a puppet."

What the masses think of your relationship

Nahida had immediately been over the moon to meet you. Though she didn't understand the kind of relationship you two had because Wanderer simply introduced you by name and nothing more.

"Welcome welcome! Wanderer hasn't told me very much about you but I'm grateful that you could stop by. He's been out almost everyday since the date I perceived a change in his behavior. I assumed he'd made a friend but I wasn't sure he'd introduce me."

You cross your arms over your chest sending a glare Wanderer's way. He shifts his gaze away with a tiny smirk.

"Ah, I apologize did I misconstrue your relationship?"

"I'm his partner." You say matter a factly

"Please refrain from making a big deal of it." Wanderer sighs, nearly staring daggers into Nahida.

"Aww even better!" Nahida giggles with a clap of her hands. "I hadn't imagined you'd socialize enough with anyone to achieve a relationship like this. You must be quite special to him."

"Buer.."

"Oh? Is the reserved and distant Wanderer a little embarrassed?" You tease, sticking your tongue out with a small giggle.

"Name.." He grunts

"There's no need to be embarrassed about this Wanderer. I'm thankful that you trust in me enough to share such an intimate chapter in your life and I'm also thankful that you chose to create new bonds after the chaos your life has previously thrown at you. You're doing so well now."

"The sooner you both stop talking the happier I'll be." He says tugging the brim of his hat down to hide his face.

"Though perhaps I should've guessed. He was always buying all that fruit and never eating it. He's not particularly fond of Sunsettias as you've probably realized."

You could see Wanderer in the corner of your eye grinding his teeth in disgust but the only word you could manage was, "Oh."

Oh..

☆

With Traveler however it's a bit more straightforward.

The two of you had just been enjoying a meal when the Traveler and Paimon had walked up immediately acknowledging Wanderer.

"Hey, since when do you go to lunch with people?" Paimon asked turning to look at you. Traveler turned as well with a simple hello.

"This is Name, my partner." Wanderer replies

"Wait what?! Partner as in?? Romantically partner?? Or partner as in organized crime?"

"Take a wild guess." You smile menacingly, folding your fingers and leaning toward the pair in front of you.

"Obviously romantic." Wanderer scoffs in irritation.

"No, no way. You in a relationship with someone?! That's impossible! You're.. you're.. you!"

"Well, wilder things have happened." Traveler finally comments

"Whether or not you believe me is something I care very little about especially since you've interrupted the quiet atmosphere. I'd suggest you both refrain from sticking around here any longer. This is a private gathering" He said, eyes dark almost piercing.

The traveler soon shooed his companion away with a small apology as they both exited the recreational area. Allowing the two of you to have your time again.

"How does the Traveler deal with that.. floating thing? Does it have some sort of off switch?" You ask once it's just the two of you again.

"Ignore that, we were discussing something more important."

☆

The next time the two of you meet Traveler and Paimon it ends up being a bit different.

"Ugh, fine fine Paimon owes the two of you an apology for how she acted before. It was rude of Paimon to say those things about your relationship. Paimon is sorry."

"So you never use the word I? You just repeat your name constantly to refer to yourself?" You question with a raise of your brow.

"Hey! Paimon is trying to apologize. The least you can do is pay attention!"

You turn to Wanderer, "Wow that gets old quick."

"Hey!"

Traveler crosses their arms, "We just thought you two could use an apology."

"Save it. We didn't exactly lose any sleep from our previous encounter. It doesn't matter one way or the other." Wanderer replied

"Ugh you two were made for each other you're both annoying to talk to!" Paimon stomped

"Ditto." You say with a wave as the two leave.

He soon becomes your most important person

"What do you plan to do if they return?"

Wanderer had helped you set up the few belongings you owned in a tiny cabin far far off the beaten path. The dark forest atmosphere perfectly secluding this once abandoned eremite cabin.

"I'll be fine if they come back but if you're that worried why don't you stay with me for a while?" You watch as he rolls his eyes, heading to the corner to place his hat on the dusty desk, clearing away a bit of the dirt first.

"You should heed my warnings instead of brushing them off with one of your snarky comments. Especially when you still have problems controlling your strength or using too much of it and becoming a target

"Whatever, I'll be fine."

You flip yourself around, tugging the pillow you'd gotten from Rainer into your chest.

"Don't tell me your feelings are hurt."

"Just leave already. I'll be fine for the night."

You hear the click of Wanderer's heels against the ground but instead of leaving he stops just behind you. Tugging the pillow from your grasp. You hear it hit the floor but you don't turn around. You feel the bed shift and hear its creaking as he takes the pillows space, pulling you into his arms. You don't say a word and for a while you don't even reciprocate the affection.

"Quit being a brat." He whispers and it lacks all the bite Wanderer normally has towards everyone he interacts with.

"I'm going to get stronger." You whisper into his chest. Fist clenched as you hold a fist full of his shirt. "I'm going to kick my former boss' ass someday. I'm going to be strong. I am."

He tugs you in tighter, his chin resting on the crown of your head. "Train with me for now. I'll make sure you're prepared when that day comes."

Your arms meld around his waist tugging him in closer and the two of you quickly fall into comfortable silence. Before you could even realize it yourself, you were drifting off to sleep. Face flush against Wanderer's soft chest.

His voiceline about you

Sighs. Name is beyond reckless. Takes on unneeded fights with such blatant disregard for the harm it could do. Heads off and just disappears for hours on end. It's all so irritating to put up with. Sometimes I think I'm the most mature one in this relationship. That can't possibly be a good sign. What? You think this is funny? What do you mean irony??

[spicysoftsweet]

A Thorn In The Side - Gojo x Reader

Summary: Infatuation enduring from high school is more of a problem than you or he think (~3.4k words).

Warnings: fem pronouns, fem!reader, noncon, kidnapping, yandere, wlw mention, gojo is a pos

A/N: Part of @suedebunn​‘s Hanahaki collab! 

When the strongest jujutsu sorcerer to have ever lived wakes up in the early am with the sensation of thorns scratching his throat and fullness in his stomach, he’s baffled.

Even more so when he doubles over in bed to cough profusely to the point of near emesis, shocking for a man who rarely gets sick. He stares blankly at a pillow covered in droplets of flecks of red, and his eyes widen with trepidation, until he realizes those large drops strewn across his bed come from flowers rather than blood.

He must be dreaming, Gojo Satoru tells himself, but the satiny feel of the scarlet petals between his fingertips is very real.

Or perhaps a curse.

“So you expect me to diagnose you over the phone?” 

Shoko pulled a drag of her cigarette as though for dramatic effect, blowing it out with a sigh, but continued to listen. She had to be up early anyway and ignoring Gojo would only make him more annoying in her experience.

“So what are your symptoms again?” she asked.

“Apparently my insides are trying to match my beautiful outsides~” he sang.

Shoko rolled her eyes, and as though he could see her, Gojo laughed loudly.

“In all seriousness, I’m turning into a garden. Coughing up flowers apparently.”

“Coughing up flowers, huh?” She leaned a little further against her balcony, her eyes setting on the early morning sunrise she could view from her high rise apartment. “Do you think it’s some type of curse?”

“It’s… different,” he replied, somewhat noncommittally. “I don’t think it’s cursed energy, actually.”

This was unexpected.

“What else do you feel?”

“Uneasy…”

It was Shoko’s turn to laugh. An interesting choice of words coming from him.

“Any ideas?” Gojo insisted.

“I mean, it could be some kind of undetectable curse. I’d know if I got to see you… How does your heart feel when you cough up the flowers?”

“It races.”

“Your mind?”

“Also races… lightheaded.”

“Any thoughts?”

“None.”

“As expected.” she teased, laughing again until she realized that for once, Gojo was silent on the other end of the phone. She scratched her head, then ran her fingers through her fingertips.

“Come in at 2pm today, okay? Don’t be late.”

---

“Well, you’re right,” Shoko stated, stepping back from the examination table, and crossing her arms as she set herself down on a stool to formulate her assessment. 

Her friend, already graced with the palest of color palettes, did actually look ill, dark circles prominent enough to match hers marring his porcelain skin. He sat, legs spread apart, and leaning onto the weight of his hands besides him, raising an eyebrow quizzically..

“It’s not cursed energy, alright,” she said, with a sigh. She stretched out her hand.

“You brought the sample, right?” 

Gojo, uncharacteristically a bit listless, tossed her the bag of vomited petals from this morning, covered in now dry saliva and other fluids. Not batting an eyelash, Shoko slipped on a pair of gloves and felt inside the bag, petals crumbling at her fingertips.

Definitely not cursed energy. She placed the bag on a disorganized counter behind her, making a mental note of scrutinizing it further under a microscope.

“Ideas?” Gojo asked after he’d decided that the time he’d given her to think was enough. It turned out the idea of being sick irritated him more than he expected. 

The very idea of being vulnerable made him slightly nauseous.

Shoko let out a chuckle that sounded more nervous than she had intended.

“My only other thought is Hanahaki disease.”

“Hanahaki?” Gojo repeated.

“Yeah,” she stated. Crossing her legs, she relaxed into her stool further as she watched the young man carefully. “Who’s the unlucky one?”

“You mean?”

“Who’s the unfortunate soul you’re in love with?” She asked again, waiting for his response. The truth was that she was quite shocked at the idea of Gojo being afflicted with Hanahaki, that he of all people could have such a pure, destructive form of love given his track history.

She’d known him long enough to know that his body count was near ridiculous.

He tilted his head, then burst into laughter.

“Myself, duh.”

“Well, auto-Hanahaki isn’t a thing, but I suppose if it was, you’d be the one to be afflicted with it.”

She decided not to press further. “Whoever it is, I’d recommend you settle your feelings as soon as possible,” she added. “People don’t usually die from this but you look surprisingly like shit so I’d be careful.”

Gojo ran a hand through his hair, hopping off the table and pulling back on his shirt.

Settling his feelings may be more complicated than either of the two of them expected.

---

You were in the middle of your drive home when Shoko’s name finally flashed on your dashboard. Grinning, you picked up on the car speaker, mischief in your voice.

“It’s 7:03 and you promised me you’d call at 7 sharp, babe. What do you have to say for yourself?” 

“You’re going to hold 3 minutes against me?” Her sultry voice filled your ears as you made the last turn between the grocery store and your apartment, and you hoped she’d be inside your home waiting for you so that you could actually hold something tangible against her.

“I did say I wasn’t going to tolerate you being late for anything anymore, didn’t I?” You teased.

“Bold declaration for someone who isn’t even home yet,” Shoko retorted.

In minutes, you were walking through the door, arms charged with bags full of groceries for dinner you’d planned to cook together. Shoko greeted you with a kiss on the forehead as you placed them on the counter.

“Did you miss me?”

You did, but you stuck out your tongue at her instead. Her hand intertwined with yours briefly before you separated to unpack items for dinner.

“I promise I’ll be less busy,” she offered as the two of you worked in tandem. Your stomach was already growling, so the sooner you had food on the table, the better.

“It’s no problem,” you replied, and you meant it only half-heartedly. It’s true she was less busy than a regular civilian doctor, but it seemed recently that her clinic was getting overrun with more and more curse victims. Things had been bad recently in the world, you figured. 

You were happy to step back from the world of sorcery, but small reminders like these persisted.

“Did you still manage to fit Gojo in today?”

She had complained earlier today that Gojo always managed to make a bad day worse.

“Mmm,” is what she offered over the sound of chopping vegetables. You understood that she couldn’t say more, on top of the fact that any discussion of Gojo was already a sore subject. It didn’t have to be, and it shouldn’t have been, but this was what it was.

“Hope he’s okay,” you offered, as you turned on the stove.

“He’ll be fine,” she replied, her voice now quieter than usual.

---

The first and last time Gojo fell in love was in the spring of his third year, he suddenly recalled in the middle of a tryst, as an upsettingly subpar blowjob allowed his mind to wander. The young woman whose gags sounded almost theatrical when compared to the amount of pleasure he was actually receiving was starting to get on his nerves, but instead he took matters in his own hands, wrapping her long ponytail around his wrist before guiding the back of her head so she took him deeper.

If she was gonna choke, she should commit to it.

He’d fallen in love with you at first sight. It was a strange feeling for him to immediately be enamored with someone upon first glance instead, having always been the recipient of many an awe-filled or fawning look.

You were a transfer from the sister school, already a rare occurrence, and what was even rarer was the fact that you both had little affinity to jujutsu and little interest in getting better. One could wonder why you even showed up in the first place, much less why you’d moved from one school to the other. 

You’d quit as expected just before graduation, but not before you caught his eye. 

“You’re pretty shitty at this,” he’d remarked, attempting to win you over with humor when he’d been assigned to you for both orientation and possible tutoring. “Of course, you can always ask me for help,” he added, flashing pearly whites at you.

He was the opposite of successful in wooing you.

“I suppose since this comes easy to you, this is just funny, right?” You’d quipped.

Your words cut more than both you and he anticipated, but it didn’t exactly matter. You were not interested in him, the way he was interested in you. 

But Shoko was different.

You became fast friends and upon your departure from the technical college, you’d remained in contact despite withdrawing from everyone else related to magic. 

Even if Gojo tried many times to either bring you back to this world you’d left behind or be part of your new one, you’d rebuffed him every time. Harshly. 

“I don’t know why you expect everyone to worship you,” was the last thing you’d said to him. “I’ve already made it clear that I don’t want to be part of this life,” you’d insisted. “Why would I change my mind just because you asked me to?”

You were right. 

And yet you loved Shoko.

The young woman whose name he’d forgotten’s face was now pressed against his pubic bone and she now began to squirm, slapping and scratching at him like some kind of trapped animal as she struggled to breathe, reminding him that he’d daydreamed for too long.

“Sorry,” he offered, as he released his grip, leaving her to sputter and choke. Looking at her, knowing that she was not you suddenly made him want to choke himself, to bring forth that impromptu garden of unrequited feelings.

He patted her on the back gingerly, and once it looked like she’d restabilized, pulled her in for another kiss. 

If only her lips tasted like yours.

---

Shoko’s hand glided against the curve of your hips, taking in the image of you sleeping softly on your side, facing her. She dipped down to kiss your nose; it was the only time the fact that she had such an issue with sleep benefited her, this ability to almost always wake up before you.

You looked incredibly peaceful while sleeping, and she had to admit this angelic view of you was even better than your features twisted in a pleasured mewl (not that it wasn’t a close battle).

There was a nagging concern in the pit of her stomach, however.

Gojo suffering from unrequited love could be a problem, if the object of his affections did happen to be you. But it had been years ago that he’d pursued you unsuccessfully, why present now?

Why present to her office of all people? Gojo could be inconsiderate, but not to this extent. 

But what if he didn’t know that this was what he was feeling? Suppressed feelings taking root and morphing themselves into the tangible he couldn’t ignore?

She sat up, resting her back against the backboard, the lack of a cigarette between her lips being palliated with the gnaw of her thumbnail. 

It couldn’t be. Not you. 

Please, not you.

---

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Shoko checked in about a week later.

Gojo didn’t share that he’d spent the entire morning in a coughing fit of petals, now definitely streaked with blood, and the entire last night vomiting enough flowers into the toilet that it had overflowed.

He didn’t comment on the entire scarlet sage plants with large green leaves that threatened to sprout from every orifice, not just his throat, but his ears and nostrils, possibly from behind his eyes.

He didn’t know what was next, only that it was getting worse.

The constant fire in the pit of his stomach, the shivers, the chills, the incessant flash of you running through his mind, your name moaned in the darkness, his body drenched in sweat.

The fact that he knew it was because he loves you and cannot find an alternative for you.

The fact that he must have you, and only you.

“Has it gotten better or worse?” Shoko asked.

“I’m fine,” Gojo reassured her, masking the exhaustion in his voice, and she made the mistake of believing him.

---

You awoke in darkness with an icy cold searing into your skin.

It took you a moment to let your eyes adjust to the light and for your body to resume the motor control it had briefly relinquished in sleep before you could reorient yourself. You were laying on ground of some sort, maybe hardwood which implied that you were in some kind of building. 

Your head throbbed viciously as you shifted slowly to a sitting position and you almost expected there to be blood as you ran your hands over the back of your head, checking for injury. But there was nothing, just the normal feel of your hair, and the steady thump of your temples in time with your pounding heart.

Looking around, your eyes soon fixed to the low light, not actual darkness to center on a figure in the center of the room.

You let out a gasp of surprise.

Gojo.

Not only had it been a while and he was the last person you expected to see, he looked stranger than he ever had.

He sat perched on a chair backwards, chin leaning on the top of the backrest. His head was tilted, and he watched you warily but fixedly through eyes that looked sunken into their orbits. Their clear blue was still sharp in the darkness.

His skin had taken on an almost ghostly cast to match his hair, and he was thinner than you remembered as though he had been slowly withering away since the last time you saw him. That was ages ago.

Your limbs froze in anticipation. You didn’t have to be a genius to recognize that whatever was happening or was about to happen was bad.

“Why did you bring me here?”

He stared at you blankly for a moment, unmoving. If he weren’t so extraordinarily fatigued, he would have sat up straighter in his chair and offered you a smile. You were still as pretty as the day he first laid eyes on you, after all. What a welcome sight.

“I guess I missed you,” he responded instead, quietly. 

Your teeth gritted as you flared up in indignation.

“Excuse me?”

He cut you off with a loud, exasperated sigh, mustering the little bit of energy he had left to run a hand through his hair.

“Listen, I thought I’d forgotten myself, but it turns out that I’m being betrayed by my own body.”

As though to add effect, a coughing fit began just at the end of his sentence, and you watched as he spat flowers into the palm of his hand, lowering them for you to see.

“And it seems like you’re the cause of this.”

Your eyes widened as you took in the sight of bloody petals falling through his fingertips and hitting the ground.

He was completely out of his mind.

“I…,” you shakily got yourself up to your feet, not letting your gaze leave Gojo for a second. He didn’t get out of the chair, but he did shift so that he leaned back in the seat, a wicked smile on his face.

“You...?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You spat. “Where the hell am I and how did I get here?”

He finally did get up, although it was done in a dramatic, strained movement. He really had lost weight, you noticed, picking up the flash of pale wrists before he shoved his hands in his pocket.

“I know it sounds crazy but apparently, according to your girlfriend, I’m suffering from lovesickness.”

He bared more of his teeth now, looking more like a grimace than a grin by this time. “I didn’t believe it either, but then I started seeing you in my mind every single waking moment.”

In the split second it took for you to blink, he had crossed the distance between you, so that he was now in your personal space, the palm of his hand inappropriately caressing your face, as tender as you’d expect from Shoko.

And you immediately jumped back and backhanded him as hard as you could.

The crack of your hand was loud and exaggerated, reverberating in the room. For a moment, you froze in shock, surprised the slap had actually landed, before shaking out your now burning hand and following up with a hiss.

“Don’t you fucking touch me.”

Gojo’s icy blue eyes glint, demonic in their delight.

“That’s the feisty bitch I remember.”

---

It was nearing 24 hours since you’d failed to reply to Shoko’s text and the normally collected woman was terribly anxious.

She’d stayed at work late, and still, not a single message from you. 

The nagging feeling in the back of her mind returned.

What if it were you?

Gojo couldn’t be that insane, could he?

When she entered your home to find traces of red salvia scattered throughout your home, it only confirmed her fears.

---

“I don’t want to do this either. I mean it.”

It was hard to believe him when he seemed to savor every brush of the lips as he trailed kisses along your inner thighs, spread open with the force of his hands. Gojo had always been deceptively strong, even now, when it looked like he was wilting just as much as the flowers he coughed up. 

Your wrists were bound to a fixed point at the head of a foreign bed, and your ankles to the bedposts anteriorly to prevent you from fighting. Not that you would have been able to fight back anyway, but the severe fatigue permeating his very bones made him less willing to risk anything.

When his lips made it to your center to circle your clit, you writhed in disgust, forcing back the sighs of pleasure that would inevitably ensure.

“Y-you can’t - ah - make me love you…”

Gojo paused the swishing of his tongue to give you a look that reeked enough of apathy that it was almost startling.

“I’m aware, but there’s no harm in trying.”

---

“Where the fuck is she?”

Satoru had the ostentatiousness within him to receive the phone call on speaker, so that you could hear Shoko beg to find out your whereabouts.

“She’s with me,” he replied, calmly to her, holding the phone in one hand and pumping fingers in and out of your slippery cunt with the other. 

By this time, Gojo had gotten tired of your expletives which no longer retained the initial cute charm, so your screams for help were muffled by a gag over your own wet panties shoved into your mouth.

He’d been at this for hours.

There was a pause on the phone from Shoko’s end that sounded like something crashing to the ground, maybe a plate breaking.

Her tone changed immediately.

“P-please don’t hurt her.”

“I’m not.”

He glanced at you who glared back at him with reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You looked even prettier when you were so totally helpless.

“I would never,” he added.

The pump of his fingers slowed but did not stop.

“This won’t fix you,” Shoko warned, almost in a low protective hiss, her own voice breaking. “This won’t fix anything, you bastard.”

He cut off the phone abruptly, and let out a sigh before shifting his attention back to you.

“Where were we?”

---

Maybe if I pretend, he’ll stop?

Or will he continue? Will I just affirm that he won?

His thrusts were relentless, as was the constant tugging at your hair, the teeth sinking into every inch of your skin, the moans and groans whispered into your ears or your bosom.

A violation in every sense of the word.

You were running out of tears.

The fact that it’s pointless, you and he both know it. Your true love knows it, that this is just an excuse to get back at you. For what? Rejection? 

He would die anyway. You would never return his feelings, if there even truly were any. 

He continued to rut into you, and flowers started to stain every inch of your bodies, covering them in a deep scarlet.

Red. Red. Red.

Blood. Rage. Power. Passion.

You probably didn’t need the restraints anymore. You had no fight left in you. 

Just the satisfaction, however small, that regardless of what he did to you, he would still eventually succumb to nature and perish in a bed of putrid efflorescence.

[dailyrandomwriter]

Day 129

Reid hummed a jaunty tune as he strolled towards the farmhouse that he and Dittany looked after. His long ponytail swayed back and forth to the bounce in his step. The newly brought rapier for Dorothea tucked under his arm brought a smile to Reid’s face. The children were so cute while debating which sword they should choose for their friend. They were such nice friends.

They would make a good adventuring party one day if the children wanted to go that route, he couldn’t help but think to himself.

“I’m home!” he announced as he toed off his shoes and began to look for a place to store the sword until the Choosing Ball.

“We’re in the kitchen dear, please tell Dittany he’s fretting too much!” Tasa’s melodic voice floated from said room.

“Fretting?” Reid questioned aloud as he decided to put the rapier into the sitting room.

After all, it only needed to be there for a few days, and he doubted Dorothea would visit anytime soon. He wandered into the kitchen to see Tasa. She took a long sip of her tea and nodded towards Dittany who was face down on the table. Papers were scattered across the table, some containing lists and others containing notes about training.

“Dittany?” Reid questioned as he reached towards Dittany’s messy ponytail.

Clearly the man had been tugging on his hair again. He hooked a finger underneath the leather hair tie and gently pulled it out. Dittany shifted his face so his cheek was on the table instead and he could talk.

“I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m terrified of messing up.”

“Hmmm…” Reid hummed in agreement as he began to braid Dittany’s hair, “It has been centuries since you’ve taught another Blood Hunter so that’s to be expected, but I remember Tasa making you write it down all your old traditions so you’d have something to look back on, in memory of course.”

“Except she skipped several steps,” Dittany mumbled, “She’s a fourteen year old with Blood Hunter powers. A fourteen year old who talked with me earlier and tried to assure me that this apprenticeship is not a mistake.”

“And?” Reid paused in his braiding.

There was a pause, and Dittany looked honestly pained. Like someone had ripped his guts out, sort of pain.

“She gave me the biggest smile and told me she was already practicing Celestial and the sword forms that Gleam showed her,” he then turned his face back into the table and groaned, “This is a mistake.”

Tasa gave Reid a lost look, she had no idea what to say to this. Reid looked back at Tasa before looking at Dittany and sighed.

He continued to braid once more once the braid was done he took a seat beside Dittany and murmured, “I understand why she’s excited. This venture is her choice, not her mother’s choice, but hers and hers alone, and that’s exciting to a child.”

“And completely ignores the fact that Blood Hunters by design are self destructive individuals who tear themselves open to hunt dangerous creatures,” Dittany’s voice was muffled by the wood as he said this.

“She’s fourteen, what did you expect?” Tasa pointed out, “Fourteen year olds aren’t exactly… bastions of reasonable thinking. Honestly I don’t even know why we require students to choose a specialty at fifteen.”

“Eighteen was probably no better,” Dittany admitted, referring to when he started his full apprenticeship as a Blood Hunter, “But the point is, she does not see the seriousness of this. She only sees it like she sees her wizarding studies.”

Reid was quiet, he could understand why that bothered Dittany. Dittany, both as a child raised by the order and later a mentor for the order, lived and breathed those traditions that gave meaning to the self-destructive behaviour Blood Hunters were known for. They were designed to make the way they used their magic easier to handle, and offered a constant reminder of what they gave up as Blood Hunters. Those traditions were important to Dittany.

“Well…” Reid finally spoke up, “Then the only answer is to make sure she knows those traditions, so she doesn’t just see them as another study.”

“Should I get her a Hunter’s capelet then?” Tasa asked the men, “Oooo you should wear your arm sleeves again. I know you don’t while you teach, but if you’re going to do this, you might as well be proper about it.”

“I thought we were keeping the Blood Hunter aspect below wind,” Dittany finally looked up from the table.

Tasa gave Dittany a look, “Honestly, who in the nine hells is going to know Blood Hunter traditions? Dorothea needs new workout clothes anyways. I’ll provide them! It’ll be a gift from me.”

“And I can gather the ingredients used for the marking,” Reid began and waved Dittany off when he began to get up and protest, “Dorothea normally wears long sleeve dresses, no one is going to notice unless they’re very observant. Besides, it’ll be nice to use it for its intended purpose instead of doodling on each other.”

Dittany stared at the two, as if he couldn’t believe what they were suggesting.

“In fact, for those lessons, have the other children come along,” Tasa added, “These aren’t just lessons about being a Blood Hunter, they are a history that shouldn’t be forgotten anyways. You’re not going to get a chance to pass along your history like this again Dittany. I get you don’t like the fact there is no real choice in this, but you might as well make the best of it, and make sure they’re not forgotten.”

“Beyond just House Eutis,” Reid amended, “Just try, and through that, maybe she’ll understand the seriousness of what she’s getting into.”

Besides, Reid thought, those traditions will hopefully ease any future regrets that Dorothea may experience when she gets older. She was, after all, only fourteen years old.

[bakugotrashpanda]

Best Bro

Bakugou x Reader Word Count: 1134

 A/N: HI UM I GOT ENGAGED TODAY SO I’M KINDA SUPER FUCKIN HYPED AND SCATTERBRAINED. I wanted to write something and, uh, I don’t know if it flows well, but here it is.

 --

Bakugou was lost in thought as he stored his hero outfit. He went through the moves of putting everything away in his locker, but it was obvious to Kirishima that he wasn’t paying attention.

“You doin’ alright?” Kirishima asked slowly. His best friend had more of these moments where he was uncharacteristically quiet and it was starting to freak him out.

“I’m doing it tonight.” Bakugou turned and Kirishima saw the determined look on his face.

“Wait, for real?” Kirishima started to smile, “You’re going to ask Y/N?”

“Yeah,” a private smile flashed across his lips before returning to his trademark scowl.

“Congrats, man!” Kirishima slapped Bakugou on the back and continued changing out of his outfit.

“They haven’t said yes yet,” Bakugou said quietly. There was a real fear that you would say ‘no’. It sat quietly in the back of his mind, stalking him patiently, waiting for something to go wrong. You had been dating for years at and even lived together. Bakugou was confident you would say yes, but if, if you said no… Bakugou wasn’t sure what he would do with himself. He didn’t like to admit it, but he fully trusted you and had come to rely on you, as partners do. Plus you were one of the few people who didn’t piss him off.

“You know they will,” Kirishima broke through Bakugou’s thoughts, “Y/N loves you, man.”

“It’s their choice,” Bakugou cleared his throat, “but assuming they say yes, will you be my best man?” Bakugou closed his locker and waited for Kirishima to finish changing.

“Hell yeah I’ll be your best bro!” Kirishima gave Bakugou a toothy smile. Pulling his trademark spikes into a low ponytail, Kirishima closed his locker and joined Bakugou near the exit of the changing rooms. “Now tell me what you’re gonna do…”

 You had a whirlwind of a day at work and all you could think about was changing out of your corporate clothes into something comfy. Helping run one of the largest agencies in Japan was no easy feat, but you took each day in stride and rolled with whatever came your way. As per usual, you brought a fat stack of papers home that you would maybe look over if you remembered. Ninety percent of the time you never got to the files piled precariously in your arms, but it was the thought that counts, right?

Bakugou stood in the kitchen, prepping dinner when he heard the telltale scratching of your keys trying to find the lock. A moment after it was unlocked, the doorknob turned and the door flew open with a BANG. You stood balanced on one leg with your files clutched to your chest, your other leg extended from kicking the door open. Bakugou smirked as you walked in and kicked your shoes off, not bothering to put them away yet.

“Hey, babe, sorry I’m late, work was awful today.” The files were set on the side table with a fwmp and you tossed your keys into the dish that held them. You pecked his cheek as you walked past and dumped your bag on the ground. You really were like a hurricane, leaving destruction in your wake when you wanted to. “I’m going to go change and then I’ll be out to help with dinner.” Bakugou shook his head as he watched your retreating form. As soon as the door closed, he stepped out of the kitchen so he was the first thing you would see when you left the bedroom. Sinking down to one knee, he palmed the little black box and opened it. His grandmother’s ring winked back at him in the light.

His mother caught wind that Bakugou was ring shopping a couple months ago and all but beat him into taking the family heirloom ‘for an option’. It was a beautiful ring, but he put up a front and ‘reluctantly’ took it so it wouldn’t look like he was giving in to her wishes.

The doorknob jiggled and Bakugou turned it around, reciting the four words he had to say in his head.

“You would not believe the bull-” you started as you left the room but stopped when you saw him. “Katsuki?”

Now was not the time to start sweating. Bakugou held the ring box up and said, “Will you-”

“YES!” you screamed and ran down towards him. Bakugou braced himself as you threw your arms around his neck. “Oh my god yes!” You held out your ring finger expectantly and wiggled it. 

“I’m not putting this on you until you let me ask it properly,” Bakugou raised an eyebrow. You pouted silently but waited for him to continue. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” you nodded. Bakugou took the ring out of the box and slowly put it on your finger. His fingers shook as you took your hand away and looked at the ring. Tears welled up in your eyes and you cupped Bakugou’s face before kissing him. His hands went instinctively to your hips and he pulled you close.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” he whispered in your ear.

 BONUS:

“Stop fidgeting with it,” Bakugou growled.

“It’s crooked,” Sero complained. Bakugou jerked away from him and went to fix it himself. The door opened and Bakugou nearly yelled at the person walking in for no reason besides existing.

“It’s almost time, you ready?” Kaminari poked his head in the dressing room and looked at all the other groomsmen standing there. Kirishima noted the vein near Bakugou’s temple pulse with anger.

“Everybody out, I’ll get him to the end of the aisle.” Kirishima waved everyone out and then it was just him and Bakugou. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m fucking ready,” Bakugou sighed, relieved that everyone was out. Kirishima held out his hand and Bakugou clasped it, giving a tight squeeze.

It was a gorgeous day for an outdoor wedding and Bakugou stood facing the officiant for the ceremony. Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Sato stood the opposite direction, waiting for your entry. Bakugou heard everyone stand and stiffened. You were walking towards him now and he couldn’t see you. For some stupid reason he had agreed to wait until you were next to him, and now he was mentally kicking himself, but it’s what you wanted.

“Oh, bro,” Kirishima said softly next to him. He made eye contact with the redhead and saw the sappy grin he was wearing.

“I want to see them,” Bakugou demanded. He nearly turned around but Kirishima kept him in place.

“Just wait, it’ll be worth it,” Kirishima gave him a familiar toothy grin and slowly took his arm away. When Bakugou finally turned, he was rewarded for his patience with a breathtaking view of you. He stood there speechless.

“Told ya,” Kirishima chuckled quietly.

[bxthharmon]

Through the Ages || JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

Words: 1870

Warnings: Super toxic relationship, underage drinking, smoking, weed

Summary: The development of your relationship with JJ, from when your first met aged eight to adult life, MAJOR ANGST

A/N: okay i know i havent written anything in WEEKS but im watching obx and im obsessed... i really wasn’t expecting this to take such a dark turn?? contact me if you wanna request anything or make friends :)

masterlist

8 years

You’re eight and when you meet John in front of the school to walk home, he has a friend. You know your brother’s friends - most of them, at least - but this boy is new. He is tanned and blonde and tall for his age, and a girl in your class had told you about how he’s always getting into small playground scraps. You eye each other warily on the way home, your brother between you, oblivious to the hostility. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him - how could you dislike someone you knew nothing about? - it was that John had promised to stop bringing his friends on the way home, because he would end up ignoring you, and now there was a friend walking with them. 

When the boy finally leaves, John looks at you as if he forgot you were there. You watch as the boy goes through the front door, catching a glimpse of a dark, cluttered house. You wonder where his parents are. 

John coaxes you into a race - who can get home first - and he wins. He always wins. A year older, stronger, faster. Your dad greets you, asking about your days, and laughing as you complain about how John ignored you on the way home.

The next week, the boy walks with you again. His name is JJ, and he’s funny. He gives you a twinkie as a peace offering, saying that he wants to walk with you and John from now on. You shrugged, and took the twinkie, telling him it was for the food, and only the food.

11 years

You’re eleven, in your first year of middle school, and you and John ride home from school everyday on your bikes. On the days when you’re not surfing or hanging out with friends, you cycle home with John, JJ and a new member of the gang, Pope. You and JJ, while still at a twinkie-incited truce, are growing more competitive and show-offish around each other. You race your bikes to his, and if you stop at the corner store on the way home, you see who can chug their cola faster. John fights with you when you get home because they’re “his friends, not yours!”

You have your own friends, and sometimes you cross with your brother’s friends in town, sass thrown between the groups like a tennis rally, the twinkie-truce fading into the past. You can’t stand the tall blonde surfer, but you can’t wait to argue with him on your way home from school.

14 years

You’re fourteen, and after a year long break from your brother’s friends, you’re, once again, at the same school. You’ve changed, filled out more over the last year, puberty having hit you like a tonne of bricks since you last hung out. The three pogues now have one female friend, Kiara, and you become fast friends. You can tell your brother has a thing for her, and you wonder if he’ll ever bring her home to meet your dad. 

JJ sees you differently now. You seem less like the eight year old he met six years ago, but you’re still very much yourself. He pulls your ponytail as you pass him in the hallways at school, and you flip him off in return. You sometimes go to the same parties, and your drinking races have switched from cola to beer. John hates you being at parties, claiming your too young to drink or party, as if he wasn’t the year before. John can see how JJ looks at you, and he hates it. He hates seeing how guys look at you now, how they flirt, hit on and catcall his baby sister. He also hates how in your efforts to compete with JJ, you get into fights and run your mouth. He hates how JJ shows off around you, and vice versa. 

Despite his frustrations with JJ, he’s also the only guy who’ll stand up for you when you or John can’t do it yourselves. He hopes you don’t grow up too quickly, and he knows that his friends will always have your back, so he’s not worried. 

15 years

You’re fifteen, and you go to a kegger for the first time. You get drunk quickly, flirting with too many guys and giggling at every little thing. You share a blunt with JJ, and the pair of you practically piss yourselves with laughter when John tries to reprimand you. The night is fun, and you can’t wait for the next one. 

The next one is much worse. You’re one or two drinks in when you see JJ flirting with a touron. In retrospect, that’s probably when you first noticed your feelings, but at the time you have no idea why you’re so angry about it. By the end of the night, you’ve had half a bottle of vodka and two spliffs, and you’re way far gone. You might even have blacked out - but all you remember is the pure rage, and how you spent ten minutes throwing up by the front porch when you got home. 

You saw JJ the next day, and you’re both hungover. He checks on you, and neither of you really understand why you’re so cold towards him, but he leaves pretty quickly.

You cry that night.

16 years

You’re sixteen, and your dad is missing. You lost all your friends when you fell into a depression after it. Nine months later, and you feel happy again. You’re the final member of pogue crew, and you spend the summer surfing and swimming and settle into the routine of summer. You surf first thing in the morning, as dawn breaks, often with JJ, competing over who’s a better surfer (he is). You spend your afternoons on the HMS Pogue, competing with JJ over who’s the better swimmer (you are). The group of you drink and smoke and live your best lives. On the days where you’re not on the boat, you work. 

You know you love JJ, and you flirt constantly. He kisses you at a kegger, barely twenty minutes before he pulls the gun on Topper. You have your first serious argument that night, and it ends with him kissing you.

You wear your heart on your sleeve, and assure him you love him. He doesn’t say it back, but he shows it. You learn about his Dad and his work and how he learnt to surf. You sneak around, and, miraculously, don’t get caught. 

16 ½ years

You’re sixteen and a half when John and Sarah go missing. Kie and Pope try to help, but you don’t pay them any attention. You and JJ struggle, with yourselves, each other, and your relationship. You’re on the rocks, you’re up against the wall. You don’t think you’ll last, and you fight constantly.

Your relationship is toxic, taking your own angers out on each other, fighting and screaming in each others faces only to make up for a honeymoon period that lasts a week, max, and the cycle repeats. You’re both miserable. 

17 years

You’re seventeen, and he breaks up with you. You were too alike - both too impulsive, angry, broken for it to ever work. You apply to out-of state colleges, hoping to escape the islands you used to love.

You wait for an acceptance letter, and watch as the people you call family try to rebuild their lives.

18 years

You’re eighteen, and you get the letter. UCLA, on the other side of the country. You say your goodbyes to Kie and Pope, and eventually, JJ.

He looks broken, when you tell him. He asks you what you’d do if John came back and you weren’t around, but you had resigned yourself to John’s death long ago. You fight one last time. You fuck one last time. You love one last time.

You wonder if you’ll ever return.

22 years

You’re twenty two, and you’ve got a degree. You fly home the day after graduation, and everything has changed.

Kie runs the Wreck now, and she gives you a free meal and you talk for hours when you first arrive. She invited you to her and Pope’s place. 

They have a nice place. Not on Figure Eight, but on that side of the island - Pope’s got a high earning job in marine biology research. They’re happy.

You smoke a blunt with Pope, for old time’s sake. He tells you to see JJ, and gives you a slip of paper with the address. You don’t know if you want to throw it into the ocean or treasure it forever. You do neither.

It takes you a week to psych yourself up to it, and then you knock on his door.

His house is small, but not tiny, not like his childhood home. He welcomes you in, a light in his eyes you hadn’t seen in years. He sits you down at the dinner table, and you take in the pictures on the mantel shelf, and the mementos stuck to the fridge. 

You see the ring on his finger.

You enter a state of stasis. You were sure he was it for you, but the circumstances were wrong and you were too immature. Right person, wrong time, or something along those lines. No, apparently not. He moved on, he built a life without you, a happier, healthier life.

His wife is lovely, everything you’re not. She’s patient and kind and soft-spoken, the opposite to him, bringing balance. She stabilises him, and gives him what he needs.

You think of how you would argue with him, the screaming, shouting, throwing plates and vases. Your love was so naive, but so passionate. Everything that happened while you were together, everything that went wrong, happened because your tempers and stubborn natures and impulsivity was destructive.

You fly back to California a week later. 

You sit on the plane and reminisce. The night you and JJ broke up, the house got wrecked. You had been standing inches apart, but screaming at the top of your lungs. You had lost your temper and overturned a table, smashing all the crockery left on it. He had thrown a vase at the wall, and you had fought until your voices broke and you were too tired and sore to keep throwing shit at walls and each other. You had sat next to each other, leaning on the wall by the front door, an uncharacteristic calm washing over you. 

You had looked at him, heart aching, and told him that you needed to split up. He had nodded, and eventually, the pair of you had drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a world where you could be together without all the hate in the way.

When you woke up in the morning, he was gone, but the mess had stayed. You had had to tiptoe over thousands of shards of broken crockery and glass to get to your room, a reminder of how you were destined to self-destruct. 

You watched out the window as the plane landed, and vowed never to return again. 

Outer Banks was no longer your home.

[gothamsforgottenchildren]

The Forgotten Children Chapter 3

Zack

“Okay I get why you need to be here, but why did I have to come tonight?” Leigh Ann asks. She is tugging at the collar of her turtleneck like it is too tight or is uncomfortable. It’s a dark red sleeveless, turtleneck top, with built-in armor and has gold accents. It’s paired with a gladiator skirt, boots, and forearm guards. It’s a good thing we don’t have to worry about her getting cold.

I roll my eyes at the radiant girl. She’s been messing with her outfit since she put it on. That’s what she gets for wearing her new suit for the first time in the field.

“You’re here as backup so no one tries anything. Also, stop messing with that, you’re gonna stretch it out,” I say.

She groans, throwing her arm dramatically on the ground, “Do you honestly think anyone will show?”

I shrug, “It’s Gotham.”

She snorts, but nods. This causes her long brown hair to fall into her face. To anyone else, it would cause her features to be lost in a shadow, but for me, I can easily see the grin on her lips, and the fire in her dark brown eyes. Leigh Ann has always been easy to read if you can see her eyes. The light within them is currently dancing like flames in a bonfire, playful.

“Whatcha lookin at?” she asks me, pulling her hair up into a slick high ponytail.

“Just you,” I say. I know she won’t take it the wrong way. We’ve known each other too long for that to happen.

She shakes her head at me, “I love you but you’re a psychoanalyzing dork.”

She isn’t wrong, so I can’t really say anything. We sit in silence for a while, I’m just enjoying the warmth of her company. When I hear something from in the distance. It was footsteps, lots of them. “We’ve got company,” I warn her, standing up and moving into position.

I watch as she climbs off the roof of one of our warehouses by the sea pier in the Amusement Mile. She may not be as fluid as Kat, but she knows what she’s doing. By the time Penguin’s thugs show up, she’s waiting for them and I’m hidden in the shadows.

The Penguin not long ago was injured badly by the Red Hood, and ever since then, his gang has been wreaking havoc on everyone. They have no boss giving them orders, so they’ve turned into essentially a gang of anarchists. The main problem with that is they seem to think that we’re low enough on the totem pole to be a victim of their riots.

When they see Leigh Ann or as they know her, The Devil’s Flame, I see mixed reactions throughout the group. Some of them are scared, some notice that she’s by herself and gets excited, and some are angry. Ignatius Ogilvy steps to the front, he’s Penguin’s right hand within the gang.

He’s a white man with blonde hair. He’s dressed well for a guy who’s supposedly going to get his hands dirty. Honestly, I believe that he’s the boss who sits there and does nothing while his underlings do all the work. It’s going to get him killed one of these days.

I cock my head to focus my hearing on his heartbeat. It’s elevated. I can smell the fear rolling off of him. He’s nervous around Leigh Ann. Good, he should be.

She stands her ground. Her body is open and in a relaxed stance, but one she could quickly fight in. To be fair though, she doesn’t really have to move much to hurt people.

“This warehouse is under the protection of the Second Borns, you need to leave,” Leigh Ann says. She is looking Ignatius dead in the eye, waiting for his move.

I hear his heart rate spike as he debates what he is going to do. He lifts both hands in the air in the classic “I surrender” pose, but then he tilts his head, dropping his hands and shrugs. “It’s dangerous for a beautiful lady like yourself to be all alone in Gotham at night,” he says.

“I can handle myself just fine,” she says.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, before pointing a finger at her, yelling, “Get her!” Then I watch as all of his men storm at Leigh Ann or should I call her the Devil’s Flame because that’s who she truly is in moments like this. She is no longer the girl I know with kind eyes that have a dancing flame, she is now a roaring forest fire that only wants to burn everything in its path. Her entire body becomes alight. Her onyx-colored eyes are engulfed in flames along with the rest of her body. She is the human embodiment of destruction and she does it all with a smile on her face. I have to look away because looking at her is like staring at the sun, which is too much for my sensitive eyes. I hear the screams though. I’m sent here to protect her, as backup, but I’m rarely needed.

I make myself busy by watching the skyline. The entire area around me is illuminated by her power. It makes it harder for me to hide, but it also makes it harder for others. I notice movement in a window a ways away from us, in a building that should be abandoned. There’s a sniper in that room taking aim at Leigh Ann. Or at least trying to. It’s hard to aim at something so bright, I bet they didn’t think it was going to be here in charge of watching the docs. It’s normally just me. We’re currently trying to claim them for ourselves.

I take off anyway though. With one leap from the ground, I unfurl my wings, pushing them down to gain height from the ground. Now even though I am flying I still try to stick to the shadows the best I can. If they try to shoot at Leigh Ann, they will most likely miss or the bullet will melt because of the heat. If they shoot at me, I can be shot out of the air, which sucks.

Flying is one of my favorite things, even if I don’t like how sore it leaves me after. I love the feeling of the wind flowing through my hair. I purposefully keep my brown hair longer than I should because it makes the sensation so much better.

I get to the spot where I can quickly fly across and take the person out. I fly across to the window, left to where they are. I move so quietly that they don’t notice me. I open the window and slip in. The room is empty and dark. I can see a door on the right wall, joining the two rooms. Once I finish picking the lock, I open the door to see an older man’s back facing me. He is a white man in his late forties. He isn’t anyone important, no one I need to think twice about before crossing, or killing. I walk across the room, silent. When I finally get to the other side, where I stand right behind him. I clear my throat. I wish I can see his face, but his back is to me. Before he can even turn around, I’m grabbing his head in my hands and snapping his neck.

I let his body drop to the ground, grabbing his gun and unloading it. Then I step over his body and climb out the window he had shot out of.

I take off again, this time flying towards Leigh Ann. I can tell that she’s finished most of them off, or at least scared them off. Leigh Ann typically tries to maim instead of kill. I swoop down to one of the men trying to escape, grab his head, and twist it while flying up. Once I’m twenty feet in the air I drop his body on a woman trying to run away as well. I look up in Leigh Ann’s direction, her bright flames are starting to dim, as she’s powering down.

I land next to her, just as the last few disappear into the shadows that are Gotham City. She is grinning when she turns to me. She’s upset about something though, judging by the dampened light in her eyes. It looks like a fire out in the rain; fighting to stay alight against the force of the cold attacking it.

“What’s wrong?” I ask her. It isn’t right for someone as radiant as her to be so dim.

Her grin slips for a second, “It’s nothing important, I’ll talk to you about it when we’re somewhere secure. We need to leave because this fire show is likely to attract unwanted attention,” she whispers. She knows I can always hear her.

With that, we start our walk home. I feel the ache in my shoulders and back start. I should take a long hot bath when I get home. I must be walking weirdly because Leigh Ann wraps her arm under the coat concealing my wings, applying warm heat, soothing my sore muscles. I wrap my arm over her shoulder, and she leans her head against my side as we walk.

“Does that help at all?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say, trying not to shudder. Apparently, I don’t succeed, because she chuckles when I do. “We need to stop and let you change though, or at least throw on a coat. You’re too noticeable in that outfit,” I tell her.

“Okay Dad,” she says, pulling apart from me, and reaching into the garbage bin where we stored her clothes earlier and sliding on a pair of black pants, a red turtleneck, and a dark brown mini trench-coat.

We walk along in silence for a while, just trying to blend in. We have to make sure no one is following us back to our home. I decide that it was safe to start the descent home, when I hear a sound, my knees buckle and I fall, clutching my head. I vaguely catch Leigh Ann’s scared expression out of the corner of my eye before I blackout.

I wake up to warm hands and silence. I’m now in an alley with sound-canceling headphones on. My head is laying in Leigh Ann’s lap, her hands combing through my hair. I reach up towards the dial that controls how soundproof the headphones are, and turn them down slightly. I can still hear the noise, but it’s manageable now.

I look around, taking in my surroundings. There are brick walls on either side of me, Gotham’s starless night sky is overhead. It’s as dull and lifeless as always. There is too much pollution in Gotham to see stars. The weirdest part is the fire escapes. They are the kind installed in residential areas.

“In an alley. We’re just a couple blocks over from where we were,” Leigh Ann said.

I look at her in a panic. Why would she bring us to a random ally in Gotham if one of us is down?

“Don’t give me that look, we’re totally safe,” Leigh Ann said, rolling her eyes at my paranoia, “This area of Gotham is relatively safe. Plus, you’re super heavy.”

I pull myself out of her lap and lean against the brick wall, shuddering from the sudden lack of warmth. I lean my head back, looking up, trying to piece together what happened. I remember the sound. Knowing that the headphones are probably blocking out the noise, I turn the dial down. Then I hear it. It is a high-pitch ringing. It’s super familiar.

My eyes widen, “We have to go! The sound it’s someone’s emergency beacon.”

I watch Leigh Ann’s head whip towards me, causing her ponytail to hit her in the face. She ignores it. She whips her phone out of her pocket. I watch as she presses the first number on her emergency contact list. Riddle.

I know because my phone’s set up the same way. All our phones are programmed to have him listed as our first contact on our emergency contact list.

“Riddle? We have a problem,” Leigh Ann says into the phone, getting up to pace the ally.

I can’t hear his side of the conversation because of my headphones. I’d be willing to bet his response was a shortcut, “What?”.

“Someone’s emergency beacon has been activated,” says Leigh Ann. She stops pacing, tilting her head to the side, and furrowing her eyebrows in the way she does when she’s really trying to pay attention to what someone is saying. This is until her eyes widen, the flames in them sparking for a second. She pulls the phone from her face saying, “Of course you knew this already.” She then turns to me looking exasperated. “Who told you?” she asks, before exclaiming, “Robert!”

I roll my eyes at her. It’s not a hard puzzle to figure out. Robert very rarely leaves the house, and when he does, Riddle’s normally with him.

“Ask Riddle what he wants us to do,” I tell her.

I watch as she asks Riddle my question. She makes that face again, before pulling her phone away and quickly shoving it in her coat pocket. “He wants you to find whoever's triggered the alarm. Once you do make sure it’s safe to enter before you engage. He explicitly told me to tell you not to throw yourself in danger if it can be avoided.”

I stand up, nodding, “Am I taking you with me, or leaving you behind?”

“Behind for now. Once you get intel on the situation, your orders are to engage only if necessary and then call in using our phones to get more orders,” she says quickly. She is clearly upset but trying to stay focused. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to stop and console her, but I know that I don’t. I have to go.

Leigh Ann is caught up in her thoughts. She’s looking towards the mouth of the ally. I take off my jacket, wad it up, and chuck it at her. I listen to her shriek in surprise, before jumping up to take off into the air.

Before I even got to the building I could smell the blood. I know it’s Kat’s. His blood smells different than everyone else's because of his mutation.

“Shit Kat,” I whisper when I land on the neighboring building, “What did you do?”

[lilyhoshikawa]

🎥🎶💕🏳‍🌈💎 for hunters perhaps? >:3c

Oh golly! Ok fndkfnfn let me do this then. This may be difficult-

🎥: Do you have any favorite scenes from your hyperfixation?

This is hard bc I have a lot of scenes I like and good scenes keep happening dhdjfn.

There are a lot of stand-outs so far. Among them is definitely like, the confrontation in the car between Blake and Sakio, and the recent social link scene with Blake and Lena on the boat.

Scenes that DON’T involve my own character that I adore include. The scene with Sakio and Camellia at the graveyard. The scene with with Lena and Twitch outside the store. The Sammy’s scene where they read Tango’s letter. Also the scene with Sammy and Masumi bc it was just extremely funny.

🎶: If your hyperfixation has songs / an OST, what is your favorite song from it?

Hm. Well time once again to advertise my Blake playlist, which I’m constantly putting a lot of work and thought into tbh dhjddb, I’ve deleted a fair number of songs from it when I feel they don’t fit, and I’m constantly messing with the order of the songs in relation to Blake’s prospective characters arc, and adding more as I find them fndkfnf I’m always on the lookout.

Also, vane is constantly updating the official playlist with some real bangers, and I appreciate that. Amil’s and Twitch’s themes are real good.

💕: Tell us about one of your favorite characters and why you like them!

Everybody has really really good characters, heck. One thing that strikes me is that even with taking the backseat and having to be on autopilot for several sessions, Camellia still has such a strong and distinct personality, to the point where everyone is on the same page abt them, and I think that’s just really amazing dhdjfjf, that’s how strong an impression they make every time they’re around.

Lena is also so good, she’s like… I think abt her frequently. Sometimes I just start giggling when I think abt Lena, bc she is a national treasure, and I hope she knows I care abt her. She’s great in this way that she’s both very funny/cute and also has a lot of depth and nuance to her arc, and I’m so excited for more.

In the same vein, Sammy. No one character has made me go from giggling to sobbing as fast as this green goat. One moment Sammy is making their cat do a little greeting and I’m rolling on the floor from the cuteness, and then the next second they’re crying and saying they don’t want to be left behind, and then I am also crying. How do they do it. The absolute range.

I also really appreciate Ilse like, particularly in contrast to Blake sometimes, in that Ilse is very smart in a way that’s quiet, self-conscious and careful, while Blake is at times recklessly arrogant, and those two bounce off each other well. Ilse feels mature at times but every time they quietly like, try to be the bigger person, or to not make a problem of themselves, I wanna give them a hug and be like “u deserve to be recognized and acknowledged and u deserve better” dhdjdndjdn. When u have big personalities like Sakio and Lena and Blake in the party there’s something compelling abt Ilse being with them and not asserting themselves as they try to do their best, if that makes sense, and I want them to know I see and appreciate them.

Sakio is also so good and I’ve talked abt this to vane plenty before but holy shit. There’s so much obvious care and love and effort and skill that went into writing a character who is both wrong in many ways, and who many player characters antagonize for good reason, and yet still so incredibly sympathetic, so likable and so compelling. The fact that both Blake and Lena have this relationship with Sakio where they don’t like or trust her, necessarily, but also can’t deal with her not being there, is so fucking good, it creates such powerful conflict in the smallest of ways. Sakio is great bc I love her and I understand her and I appreciate her, but I also wanna yell at her and think she is absolutely horribly wrong about incredibly crucial things and u can FEEL that turmoil in her as well, with her knowing on some level that her actions are going to cause harm, and she’s just waiting and hoping to take the fall, thinking, maybe foolishly, that she can, and that doing so will save everyone else.

I also fucking love so many minor characters we haven’t seen much of so far. I absolutely love Bee and I’ve told vane abt this but she’s just a total icon. Theo is also great, he is the only valid he/him in the entire campaign djdkfj. I love Twitch as well and I’m very excited for some of the interesting stuff in Twitch’s arc that has been hinted at coming to fruition later on, that’s very exciting. I’m also very excited to learn more abt Amil’s whole deal, I appreciate them a lot and I feel bad every time I have to make Blake come pester them fndkfnf. Oh also Prim, how did I forget Prim… what’s going on with her, I have no idea, but she’s a mean lady and my love for mean ladies is well-documented. Also her look is iconic. Also also Puck, the fact that he’s a child and I didn’t know it for several months shocked me to my core but it has made his brand of Shakespearean mischief that much more endearing, and now I seek only to give him snacks and let him sit in his funny garbage throne. I forgot abt Puck earlier so I’ll say he is the second valid he/him in the campaign but frankly I think Puck should take some neopronouns for a spin, he deserves it.

🏳️‍🌈: Do you have any headcanons (LGBT, race, neuro, etc.) that are important to you?

(*throws neurological disorders at Blake*) jdkdnfkf no but jokes aside. I love that this party is like, 5 player characters, 4 of whom use they/them. Just. The raw power of a persona series written by LGBT+ ppl…

I can’t speak on other ppl’s characters too much but as for Blake, they’re a closeted transfem and also too much of a disaster for a coherent sexuality but probably bi. Autistic, and an abuse survivor who experiences paranoid delusions and self-destructive tendencies. Probably more, but specifics are messy, they’re a fucking mess, what’s going on with them, they don’t even know.

Masumi is a binary trans lesbian, also an abuse survivor and manages quite a bit of paranoia of her own, dealing with mood swings and occasional delusions of grandeur, most of it she keeps internally managed which isn’t great for her mental health.

💎: Are there any fun facts or trivia that you would like to share?

Blake’s original characterization was thought up prior to the campaign and was very different from their finished characterization. They lived on a farm with their parents and were pretty quiet and passive before being arrested for a murder they didn’t commit (this part is the same) and their personality was way more quiet, reserved and passive, with the whole celebrity aspect completely absent. They were still going to be the sort of clever leader type character but leaned far more into the background. Their design was also different, with their hair in a low ponytail rather than high and scars on their face from scrapes and accidents working on the farm.

I realized that, even though this character was more of an original idea than Masumi (who I was playing in another campaign at the time and who was characterized somewhat differently as well) I didn’t find myself excited to write them, couldn’t get invested in them in the same way, and as I kept workshopping them I decided to be more self-indulgent and lean more into shamelessly making them an Akechi expy in more ways.

And what resulted from that, ironically, is what I feel is a better character in the end. Blake feels more dynamic, lively and interesting now than the old iteration I first thought up, back when I was intent on making them My Own Creation with their own arc. At this point I’m comfortable saying that Blake, for all their similarities to Akechi, has evolved over the course of the campaign into a more interesting character, into someone I recognize as distinctly different and who stands out. They feel unique to me, and feel like my own character. And I think that only could’ve happened through playing them in a TTRPG like this, in developing them along with others, and having to adapt, and I think that’s the beautiful thing about developing characters with other people. The Blake I’ve ended up with is one I’m really happy with, who I feel is more interesting and dynamic to me than if I had just tried to force something unique just to not feel cringe about making an expy. And maybe I need to learn that lesson before I go through the same thing with Zee fjdkfnf.

[reynaruina]

Ponytail Dib AU - Random Dialogues

-------------------

Zim: HUMAN!! Don't forget your date with your DOOM tonight!! At last, this pitiful planet will belong to Z I M once and for all!!!!

Dib: Ugh, do you have to do that tonight? I have a full bottle waiting for me at home, I'd rather just-

Zim: WHAT?! You're asking me to delay your DESTRUCTION?! That CANNOT be, Dib-creature!! You WILL face me TONIGHT or face your world's END!!!

Dib: Honestly... If you wanna end the world so bad, I might just let you. Maybe all this bullshit will finally be over once we’re all dead...

Zim:.... I also STOLE ALL OF YOUR CAR'S TIRES!! You'll have to SAVE THE WORLD TONIGHT TO GET THEM BACK!!!!

Dib: WHAT?! YOU LITTLE SH-!

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

(Zim arriving to Dib’s line at the store he works in)

Zim: *places two movie tickets on the conveyor belt* I’ll take these two, store-slave.

Dib, exasperated: ...We don’t sell those here, Zim.

Zim: *makes an exaggerated surprised gesture* Oh, no! Clumsy me! Guess this means you have to come with Zim to the evening screening of High School Paranormal!

Dib: Zim, that’s not how it works. And I also have another shift this afternoon.

Zim: Not if your place of employment spontaneously catches FIRE!!

Dib: If you make me lose another job I will make you eat those stupid antennae of yours I SWEAR

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Dib: HAH! I finally got you, Zim! You see, last time when I was out ghost hunting and you crossed by with your PAK legs and no disguise, I managed to film you!!! I’ve posted the video online and thousands of people have seen it already!!! 

Zim: Yes, I have seen the views on that Video. At this point in time, Dib-thing, I highly doubt anything I do will ever convince your fellow humans that I am an alien invader. But all those views must certainly have brought you many Ad-Vertising monies, correct?

Dib, deflating: Nah, it got claimed right away by the Music Firm® because of a half a second clip of a free song I used in my intro that the algorithm mistook for copyrighted material, and the Video Hosting Site™ demonetized me. All I got is people making fun of me and the “cheapo alien render” in the comments. *checks phone*  Aaaaand someone got it taken down already. Amazing.

Zim: What?! So no monies for you?? NNNNOOOOOO!!!!! CURSE YOU VIDEO HOSTING SITE™!!! CUURSE YOUUUUUU!!!!

Dib: ??? why are you even getting mad on my behalf what is this

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Dib, drunk off his rockers, hanging out at Zim’s place again: S-see, the diff...the dif’rence between you bein’ a clone and me bein’ a clone is that You...you...you...you still try. You were given a- you were born with a... you were MADE for a task, and you’re still attempting it. You suck, I mean you SUCK at it, but you still trying. Still trying. Born with a purpose, n’ shootin’ for that purpose. I’m not even doing that. Not even trying to do the one thing I was brought into the world to do. Why the hell am I even around, what the hell is the point of me existin’ when there’s another one o’ me who’s already perfect n shit.

Zim, casually building a bomb next to him: Heh, you think Membrane is "perfect". That’s cute. I can tell you he was never a perfect father, and my species doesn’t even have fathers! Even I can tell that.

Dib, flailing his flask: Maybe, but I’m not his son! I’m his clone! Never had a parent, he wasn't my parent, he’s just the better version of me! He just...why the fuck did he need me... need to make me...just for sum...experiment bullshit? Couldn’t he have made me with no fuckin’ feelings so I wouldn’t have to notice how much of a fucking failure I am? Couldn’t he have just...just...killed me when he saw I wasn’t working as intended? Could’a saved us all loads o’ problems... Mebbe I should just...finish his...job...

Zim, kicking plate with pizza at Dib: Shut your up for once and eat.

Dib, looking at pizza: I don’t want it, it’s cold.

Zim: That’s because you let it get cold, because you were blabbering at me instead of eating up!!

Dib: I don’t want it, it’s cold.

Zim: You haven’t eaten all day for your Planet’s Sake EAT

Dib: Make me.

Zim: Dib, you either eat that pizza right now or I’m force feeding you pizza smoothie again. Take your pick.

Dib: ...Microwave?

Zim, taking pizza plate: Ugh, fine

Dib: Bring me a pillow also.

______________________

I’ve already come to terms with he fact that I have way too many ideas and not enough time to turn them into comics/art, so here’s another idea dump for this Au. Dialogues this time. If any of yall wanna do anything artsy w these (and all the other idea dumps for that matter) you have my blessing cuz I sure can’t shjksdfsd

Bonus Spicey underneath 👀

(Zim back at the store during the night shift, approaching Dib’s line once more)

Dib: What the hell are you doing here it’s four in the morning

Zim: *quietly deposits a box of condoms, a large tube of lube and an even LARGER cucumber on the conveyor belt, looking smug as fuck* Hello, store-slave Dib. Please, ring my items up.

Dib, eyeing the assortment of items, face quickly turning red: ...You saw this joke on the internet, didn’t you

Zim: I don’t know what you’re talking about.. These are essential items for my next biggest project.

Dib: You’re taking ideas from the internet now?

Zim, smugness increasing: It’s called... the Dib-binator.

Dib, redness increasing as his tone grows grumpier: All these years and you’re finally running out of original stuff, so you gotta steal from the human internet now. Gotcha.

Zim, hoarse whisper and smug smile: It’s gonna bring you down to your knees, Dib-beast

Dib: *overwhelmed, rings him up as fast as humanly possible* Just fucking LEAVE.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

(Dunk Dib in Zim’s house again, after several back and forth of “pretend flirting”, once Dib starts to suspect Zim was never pretending in the slightest)

Dib, shivering, red as a beet: Wait....waitwaitwait...Isn’t this...wasn’t this...weren’t...Are you joking?

Zim, smug smile on again: I was never joking. You know I don't joke.

Dib, panicking, desperately trying to kill the mood: Yes you do! your jokes are terrible!

Zim: Then I guess I can't joke even if I try. I was never joking. 

Dib, shaking like a leaf, skin feeling hotter than the surface of Mercury: S-so like...ye really wanna p-.. probe me...n shit?..... 

Zim, chuckling: Oh no, I only probe the subjects of my experiments. I don't wanna probe you. 

Dib: Phew... 

Zim: I wanna fuck you. Senseless. Against this very floor. 

Dib: ..........*bluescreens* 

[jace-the-writer-guy]

M.I.A. Part One

The sounds of gunfire filled the night as a lone woman fought against a squad of Sentinel operatives that guarded a special facility. The facility in question experimented with portal technology, which would make transporting supplies all across the Auroa Archipelago simple and quick for Sentinel. The company had taken Skell Tech hostage, which was the company that they were forcing to make their drones, weapons, and now these portals. And numerous private operatives were hired to stop it.

One such operative was a lavender-eyed woman codenamed "Viper", and she was currently fighting her way into the main facility where the portal experimentation was taking place. She was a very fit woman that stood at five feet and eight inches tall. Her hair was semi-bright red, drawn up in a tight ponytail with a bit of her bangs hanging down over the right side of her face and eye. She wore a black half face mask covering her mouth and nose, with some black face paint over her eyes and forehead but not completely covering her skin. She wore gear that was all black, with a black magazine harness that held a few spare dual-magazines for the gun she was using which was a mainly matte black, classic MP5A4 chambered in 9mm. The gun was complete with a red dot sight, a flashlight integrated in the front of the handguard under the barrel, and a folding stock that could fold to the left side of the gun. The barrel, flashlight, magazines and sight were all a dark purple color. On the right side of her harness were three spare magazines for her DMR on her back. Under the harness she wore a simple black combat jacket, and along with that she wore black military cargo pants with armored thighs and knees that led into black combat boots. Over her hands she wore a pair of armored gloves, with black metal over the tops of them and along the knuckles.

Lastly on her back, she wore a black military backpack with clips on both sides of it for her two longer-range guns. One was a designated marksman rifle for medium to long range firing, which was an MK14 EBR that was fully matte black with a dual-range sight, and a foldable grip on the bottom rail. It was custom chambered in .458 Socom rounds to deliver a massive punch when needed. On the opposite side was her sniper rifle, a Barrett MRAD bolt-action sniper rifle chambered in .338 Lapua Magnum. On the bottom rail of her sniper rifle was a bipod, and on the right rail was a range finder that was linked to her rifle's large scope which told her the exact range of her targets in her crosshairs The stocks of both her rifles were folded against the bases of them to make them a bit more compact for carrying. Lastly on her right hip was the holster that held her custom .50 AE Desert Eagle, which had a black frame and slide with black grips and silver barrel. Being trained as she was, she can carry all of these weapons easily with little restrictions, but her ammunition stores for each weapon on her person was limited.

Viper brought down two of her target in the facility before she ran inside, taking a few grazes from bullets fired after her along her arms and her sides. She ran into a door that led to lower levels and closed it behind her, locking it with a hacking device she held up to the digital lock of the door. She quickly began to walk down the stairs and descended deeper into the facility, and she eventually found her target.

She quickly attached her silencer back onto her MP5, and she began to go to work in the shadows of the large room. Thanks to her taking out the alarm system before her move on the facility, no one was alerted to her presence this deep underground. Viper worked through the room she was in and put down all the guards she saw, each being taken down with a bullet right to their heads. One by one their bodies slumped to the metal floor, and Viper was soon left as the only one in the room with the experimental technology.

"I'm in," She spoke quietly into her earpiece to her commanding officer, "Time to take this thing out."

"Good work, Viper. Report back to me once you're clear." Came her commander's reply, and she took her finger from her earpiece.

Viper then plugged her hacking device up to the console in the middle of the room, and she began to upload the program that she was given that would make the experimental portal self destruct, along with the entire facility. But, things had not gone exactly to plan. When Viper began to run that program, the portal activated and lit up the room in a bright light. Viper shielded her eyes from it with one hand, and she went to contact her commander once more.

"Commander, something with the program activated the portal!" She was met with static, which turned into a high-pitched sound that began to turn painful before she pulled the earpiece out.

"Attention Personnel. Facility will self destruct in one minute. Please vacate the premises."

The automated voice came through the speakers of the facility, and then the portal's light began to pulsate and the entire thing started to shake wildly. The entire facility began to shake with tremors as well, and many of the shelves and walkways hanging above the edges of the room began to fall down to the ground. Viper began to feel herself being pulled toward the portal soon after, and she began to try to run and escape the area. But, the pull only got stronger and stronger and she found herself unable to resist being sucked toward the portal. Soon, she was pulled off her feet, and with a final scream she disappeared into the portal, just before the self destruct sequence completed and the facility, and the portal, were destroyed.

Officially, Viper had been declared M.I.A. by her commanding officer. Eventually after that, after search parties had been sent out for days, weeks, and months and even up to five years later after Sentinel's downfall, she had been declared K.I.A..

But she wasn't killed.

Almost as soon as Viper had been pulled into the portal, she had ended up in a forest she didn't recognize. She fell to her knees, feeling her stomach lurching within her, and she pulled her mask down just before she began to vomit profusely after she had been pulled through God-knows-what, all the way to what she assumed was some remote part of Auroa. She soon stopped vomiting, and she folded her MP5's stock to put on her left hip, and she took her backpack and rifles off her body so she could lean her back against a tree, breathing deeply as she stared up into the... bright blue sky.

It was nighttime when she last checked. She checked her watch and saw that it said it should have been just past midnight, and she began to grow extremely confused. She put her earpiece back into the ear and pressed her finger against the button. "Commander Black, respond. This is Viper. The portal sucked me into it, and it transported me to some... unknown location during the daytime."

After several moments of radio silence, Viper tried again. "Commander Black, respond. I'm stranded in a forest and I have no idea where I am. I-"

Viper began to hear a growl behind the tree she was leaned up against, and she stopped talking immediately. She slowly glanced around the tree to where the growl came from, and her eyes went wide as she saw some... black-furred werewolf covered in bone plating, and it had glowing red eyes. She jumped to her feet and rolled away from the tree just before it struck, and she pulled her MP5 from her waist and opened fire on the creature's head. In a few shots, the strange beast went down and began to evaporate into the air, and that just confused her even more.

Before she knew it, she noticed more of the creatures surrounding her from all sides. She had no idea what they were at all, but she did her best to fight them off as they came. The 9mm rounds tore into the hide of the beasts but with their attacks, reloading was hard even with dual mags like she had. She ducked out of the way of a strike from one and fired into its face with the last rounds of one magazine before she was struck in the side, knocking her MP5 out of her hands and sending her to the ground with a gash in her arm.

She rolled to her back and quickly pulled out her Desert Eagle, and she blasted one of the beasts in the head. One powerful shot put it down, and then another came at her and she shot and killed it as well. As its evaporating body came down on her, she began to hear gunfire from another source, and she could tell it was a very big gun that was being used. When the beast evaporated fully, she could see each of the others that surrounded her were going down with their heads being blown to bits or their chests were blown out. She glanced around to see who had come to her rescue, and her eyes widened even further when she saw a huge man dressed like someone from a western movie.

She aimed her pistol at him at him trying to determine whether he was friend or foe, and he just looked at her in shock. She soon lowered her gun and nodded to him, and then she saw another of the beasts appear from the bushes behind the man. Before she could give him a warning, the man's weapon transformed into a claymore right before her eyes and with one hard swing and a pull of the trigger, the recoil of the gunshot send the blade straight through the beast's body.

He then put the blade on his back and turned back toward her. "Hey there. You don't look like you're from around here." His deep voice came to her a moment later.

"Where am I? Who are you?" Viper replied, her hands still gripping her pistol.

"Well first off, I should be askin' you that since you brought some Grimm near my property," The man replied to her, crossing his arms over his chest, "My name's Auron. Auron Karmine. What about you?"

"My... codename is Viper. Thank you for helping me."

Auron stepped forward and reached his hand down to her. "I get the feelin' you got a story to tell about why you're here on Remnant. You seem like you're like my daughter's fiance."

"...Rem...nant?" Viper replied in confusion before slowly taking his hand.

Auron chuckled a bit and pulled her to her feet. "That tells me all I need to know. Get your gear, an' I'll take you to my home an' you can explain everything."

"Oh god, this has to be a weird dream..." Viper remarked and went to gather her backpack and her Vector, "What you're suggesting is fucking crazy."

"I wish I could tell ya it was an' you could wake up in your own world, but..." Auron shook his head, "It's as real as that cut on your arm. I know a few more people that came from another universe or world or whatever, an' one of 'em is set to marry my oldest daughter. You got a lot to learn about Remnant here, an' the Grimm. We need to see if we can get your aura unlocked."

"My fucking what?"

Auron took in a deep breath and let it out evenly. "This is gonna be a long day."