#this response was made both with much help from a moot and me attempting to find sources to back up the thoughts I had in my head

[amazingdeadfish]

Wth I've never heard of jiankong- I thought erlang burned down flowerfruit mountain and killed a bunch of wukongs monkies??

When you look at the ship at surface level, yeah, I guess it seems pretty weird.

While it is true that Erlang did that, it's not like he did that based on his own beliefs and intentions. It was from orders by the Jade Emperor, who saw this as a 'justifiable act' given how much disorder Wukong had caused up till this point. However, Erlang is known to not... how do I say it? He's more or less more inclined than other immortals and deities to not carry out the Emperor's orders.

In this case, not all of the monkies were killed and burned. Some, many actually, were spared. It's up for interpretation, but most people believe that Erlang didn't see the slaughter of the monkies on Flower Fruit Mountain as an equal response towards what Wukong had done. Whether or not you see this as justification for Erlang still burning the mountain in the first place is up to you.

Besides, I wouldn't let "burning monkies" be the one thing that defines Erlang's relationship with Wukong XDDD. There's more to it than that. Like how they both immediately locked in when facing each other in battle and could match each other really well, and, how they were both desperate to fight someone who could actually challenge them and they found that in each other.

Wukong though, funnily enough, forgives Erlang (or really, puts the whole incident aside) because he actually respects the guy a lot XDDD. In one of the later chapters of JTTW he actually asks Erlang (he was the area, passing though) to help him defeat the Dragon King and the Nine-Headed Beast (Ch. 63). They are sworn brothers by this point, and, it's clear that they've come to some sort of agreement that they are on much better terms now. Erlang doesn't even hesitate to help Wukong here, which is something I've always found a little funny. They bros now, or gay. Who knows, hah!

But hey, would a ship be interesting if there wasn't a weird, convoluted, backstory behind it?

[qeliche]

Snippy from the chapter 4 of my pinned Stranger Things fic! This is a dream Eddie has about Henry being a catboy :D.

------

“HENRY FOR FUCKS SAKE, C’MON!”

Jane looked over to her brother’s locked office as their newest secretary’s voice reached a pitch.

“No. Nooooo! Leave me alowwwwnnoooooooOOOOAWWWWWWRRRRRRRAUGHHHHHRWWWW!”

Henry’s voice going from coherent words to an absolutely wrenching cry for help gave her all the context she needed.

The sound of ripping furniture that followed the still almost ear splitting cat-song of despair made her burst out laughing, unable to hold back any longer.

Eddie Munson, for all his laid back demeanour, did not have patience for some things, apparently.

Dirty cat-hybrids seemed to be one of them.

“MRAWWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRR!!!!” was followed by the barely perceptible sound of the showerhead in her brother’s office.

Max Mayfield, their liaison with the local landscapers, was barely managing to hold back her own laughter.

“D-did he fall -skneeee- in the muddy ditch ag-ain? Pbftttt-” she managed to get out between wheezes.

Jane didn’t even try to answer, too busy gasping for air. He had, in fact, fallen into the muddy ditch again. Despite the even taller fence they had put up.

Finally, Max seemed to get her snickers under control. “Was -snrkkk- was it a bluejay again?”

Jane shrugged. Honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if it was, but if that was the case, she was getting him a t-shirt. Knowing bluejays, it was probably the same one as last time. They were related to crows, after all. If it had been her, she would 100% had taken the chance to get Henry to jump into a muddy ditch again for nothing but shits and giggles.

As far as office-baths went, the fact that Henry was the CEO of their company and effectively Eddie’s boss was a moot point for them both as the chocolate-eyed brunet was also his fiance.

It was explicitly stated in his contract that he couldn’t be disciplined for reasonable attempts to keep Henry safe and hygienic. But that, realistically, didn’t hold as much weight as the engagement ring on Eddie’s finger.

Henry’s pleading yowls in response to the (to him) crime that was a cold office bath was thankfully not as ear-splitting as it used to be since the extra sound dampening had been added around the door. It was too bad they couldn’t completely soundproof it because security reasons.

The rest of the office wasn’t even trying to look busy anymore.

Jonathan Byers, their web editor and a labrador-hybrid, had his ears lowered and his tail tucked between his legs in sympathy for the cat-hybrid’s plight. Nancy, his non-hybrid girlfriend, was rubbing his back comfortingly.

Had Robin been here, she’d have been laughing her ass off. If it turned out to be the work of another bluejay, she’d probably even start a scoreboard, being a bluejay-hybrid herself. But it was her day off.

She would be so sad she missed this but Jane spotted Steve with his phone out, obviously taking great joy in telling her exactly what she was missing.

“RAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRWWWWWWWWW-hcuppp!p’chu!t’chu!-mmmmMRRRRRRRRRRWWWOOOOOooooooo!!!”

Thankfully even Henry had to stop to breathe, eventually.

And it seemed to be just in time for Eddie to finish getting him clean again because the showerhead shut off not long after.

“Doesn’t he shower at home though?” Max asked softly.

Jane snickered. “Ya. It’s the water temperature. The bathroom at home feels like a sauna when he’s done showering. Can’t do that here or it’ll rot the ceiling and we’ll lose the damage deposit. Besides, he gets treats after.”

The building was just a rental after all.

Poor bastard. If he didn’t have a meeting with a client in an hour, they could’ve rushed home to wash him off.

While Jane could still hear grumbling coming from the closed office, she was thankful Henry had stopped trying to make the injustices of office baths known everyone’s ears bleed.

If she listened closely enough at the door, she could probably even hear Eddie soothing him with cooed reassurances and praises. She had no doubt he was being covered in kisses too.

And being fed duck with cheese and warm goat’s milk.

She was admittedly slightly jealous of the hybrid sometimes. Even though she could easily buy those things for herself, that wasn’t the point.

He would also undoubtedly be getting coddling from almost every person in the building, as his yowling had been rife with ‘poor, unfortunate, innocent creature forced to experience The Horrors’ and not even Jane could resist that level of dolefulness.

Henry’s twin, Edward Creel, who hated his name with a vengeance and ‘would much prefer to be called Dee, thank you very much Jane’, would scoff at his behaviour and mock him, completely ignoring that, as a snow leopord-hybrid, he wouldn’t be feeling the cold water nearly as much as Henry would.

Or maybe he just liked riling up his younger brother (by one whole minute which was apparently a large gap in twin time). That seemed more likely, if Jane was honest with herself, seeing as Henry’s preferred mischief was filling water in empty milk cartons and then randomly swapping them in with the actual milk whenever his twin was over. And only then. He never did that when it was Alice visiting.

The man was on leave for his annual summer vacation with his husband, and Jane’s old middle school teacher, Scott Clarke. They were going to the Caribbean this time on a short expedition to the Amazon Rainforest before going to a resort in Brazil that Jane couldn’t even pronounce.

He would also be getting an update of what had happened today, but from Jane herself. Because she did very much like seeing them cause trouble with each other.

Meanwhile, in the now-quiet office, Eddie was laying on the newly re-shredded couch in an old nightgown waiting for his and Henry’s suits to dry. At least the mud had come out easy. They really should get the dryer upgraded. It was a miracle the office building had the facilities for one on the floor in the first place.

Henry was in a bathrobe seated in the small armchair near him, eating his duck and cheese cuts with an empty glass set on the sidetable.

His tail was flicking happily behind him, forming a loose question mark, and a low purr was rumbling from his throat. The sound was making Eddie unconsciously relax into the soft couch.

They thankfully still had about a half hour left before Henry’s meeting, so hopefully the clothes would be dry by then.

He let his eyes linger on the hybrid in the armchair as the blond licked his fingers, feline ears twitching to and fro as he listened to things around him that Eddie could only guess at. Henry would need a shave soon, if he was feeling up to it.

Struck by a sudden urge, Eddie hauled his ass off the couch and went to stand in front of his fiance. Before Henry could do more than blink his sky-blue eyes at him, Eddie bent and kissed him full on his soft, pink lips. As the taste of Honeyed Duck and some sharp, fancy cheese Eddie still couldn’t pronounce burst across his taste buds, he deepened the kiss to the tune of Henry’s even heavier purring. It was almost making both their chests rumble.

Breaking to give them both some air, Eddie smoothed Henry’s still slightly damp, blond locks out around his ears and pressed a short kiss to his head. As Henry took heavy breaths beneath him, still letting out soft purrs, Eddie tucked the blond’s face under his chin, bracing a hand against the back of the armchair to take some of the strain off his hips.

He chuckled as Henry took the chance to run his tongue under his chin. Eddie reckoned he could probably use a shave, himself, as he frowned at the feel of Henry’s tongue on his growing stubble.

He sighed, letting the older man continue to groom his face.

He had barely made it out of his SUV earlier that morning when the mournful yowling had started. All he had needed to do was check the CEO parking spot for Henry’s ride to guess what had happened.

Hauling the mud covered, crying-slash-complaining cat-hybrid out of the ditch, to the barely concealed snickers of the landscaping team, had gotten Eddie so dirty that he would have been better off not showering before he left home.

“Murrrrrrrrrrrowwwwwwowowowowowowowowowowow” was the tune of Henry’s grumbling the entire way into the building.

“Yeah babe, I know. Bad bird. How dare it not hold still for your wonderfully planned catch? I know. You would have caught me a very big bird, wouldn’t you? Such a good boy~, trying to catch me presents.” Eddie had placated, trying to both soothe the blond’s ego as well as guide Henry to his office without him realizing what was coming.

Usually, Henry would dust his clothes off and groom/brush himself, but he was covered in mud this time (again , technically). And he had a meeting in an hour, if Eddie had remembered correctly.

Eddie had managed to get to his office, too, quietly shutting the door behind them and ignoring everyone’s whispering.

Unfortunately, Henry had caught on when he started to unbutton his shirt and Eddie was sure the entire floor had heard every note Henry could muster from that point on until the soaking wet end.

Bringing his focus back to his fiance, Eddie hummed at the feel of the man’s tongue on his collarbone, leaning to let the nightgown’s strap fall fully off his shoulder so Henry had more of him to ‘groom’. He didn’t have anything more than peach fuzz below his neck right now, but the attention from Henry felt nice.

Maybe he could take him to the community centre this afternoon so the man could catch some (stuffed) birds and work off some energy.

Finished with his grooming, Henry set his face against Eddie’s chest, purring low. Eddie took that to mean his husband-to-be was no longer miffed about the cold bath. He gently held Henry’s head against him and nuzzled into his hair, pressing his mouth against the silky blond locks.

They stayed like this for a few more moments before Henry reluctantly pulled away saying he needed to go review his pitch for their client.

Eddie stretched and declared he’d take a quick snooze until the clothes dried. Nothing in his calendar was so urgent that it couldn’t wait twenty minutes.

After setting an alarm on his phone, the brunet settled down on the couch. He would have to remember to tell Jane to get her brother that shirt.

[muniimyg]

+

playlist 

jungkook’s songs for oc

cardigan by taylor swift

closer by rm (with paul blanco, mahalia)

is there someone else? by the weekend

jin’s songs for oc

mary jane (all night long) by mary j. blige

anniversary by mulherin

seesaw by suga of bts 

oc’s songs for jungkook

f2f by sza

bad habit by steve lacy

something about you by the 1975

oc’s songs for jin

kiss it better by rihanna

space for you by avenue beat

honeymoon avenue by ari 

thank you note

this fic has been an absolute experience y’all... i don’t know why it took me so long to complete it. i literally went through so many breaks and random updates even though the plot and the notes were prepared before i posted it LOL. i guess life is jus life,, and with that being said i want to thank u for ur patience and interactions with this story! it was filled with so many ups and downs,, and i hope u were able to laugh and even stress with the characters. 

i want to thank @geekwang, kamlc, and my cousin rc for helping me with the plot LOL,, @pamzn, @avtrns, @joonsjuice​, and @floweryjeons for the constant love nd support ,, @jeonqkooks-main/ @jenrecs​ and @firesighgirl​ for freaking out in the cutest way possible in their thoughtful responses ,, and @boraength​ for reaching out when i went on a mini break huhuhuuuuhuuu. u have all made updating paraluman so much more exciting !!!

and an obvious thank u to everyone else not mentioned. from the anons to my regular readers and other moots <3

authors cut

oc did have feelings for jungkook in the past but they were more childish in a sense where it was formed out of comfort and familiarity. her confusing personality and inability to choose him roots from her parents leaving her. she has a people-pleasing aura and is constantly afraid of being abandoned. therefore, she attempts to maintain her friendship with jungkook while in a “secret” relationship with jin. as she begins to realize that her same best friend boundaries with jungkook do not mix well with her love life boundaries with jin, she begins to slip and get sloppy amidst her distress. 

yoongi and oc’s relationship ended in good terms. they try to give each other space in order to move on and the purpose of the two was really to emphasize on a first love’s impact. i thought it was important to incorporate their dynamic as yoongi provides insight that all the characters lack. along with hoseok, nam joon, taehyung, and jimin; yoongi is a static character. also, shout out to mfking hoseok for being oc and jungkook’s unpaid therapist! 

jungkook and jin’s tension and love triangle was my playful version of a classic love triangle. love triangles consists of person a and b both obtaining something that person c needs/is after. the catch, obviously, are the scarifies made. it’s choosing one or the other and the miscommunication, betrayal, and humane reactions that stir the story up. hence, jungkook, the childhood best friend who provides oc emotional security, and jin, the new mysterious love potential who tends to oc’s romantic physical needs, fall under “competition.” when jin begins to open up to oc and tries to make their relationship work, he begins to take on what jungkook offers. when jungkook realizes this, out of desperation, he oversteps and confesses his feelings; followed by a kiss. the kiss throws oc off as it translates to jungkook pressing on her romantic physical needs. the complexities of being childhood friends, growth, and circling with toxic habits are what makes paraluman, in my opinion, even more annoying and tension filled. 

there’s not much to say about jin or jungkook as most of their characteristics and insight were expressed throughout the fic. i think it’s important to note that in this au, all of them are supposed to be nepotism babies. jungkook’s jealousy stems from jin being the ideal son. also, since jungkook grew up challenging the world; i thought having (jin) a simple contrast would be someone who accepts his fate and grows from it. oc sees stability in jin and is ultimately attracted to it because it fills a void and helps her inner child heal. whereas with jungkook, she feels love and acceptance but has difficulty growing up. 

symbolism in this fic was so fun to write around. the vase, something jungkook handmade and shatters himself, represented his and oc’s friendship. keep in mind, when it shatters, it was jin who got hurt. the vase was always filled with flowers jin would gift oc. the vase was practically a reflection of jungkook. jin and oc’s peaches... yes, it was half-assed. literally because it was her underwear! but i chose peaches because it presents a warm feeling that connects to a summer love. oc and jin began hooking up in the summer. jin posting the peaches, obviously means he’s thinking of her, but it also indicates his longing for her. peaches in general symbolize longevity and immorality; somewhat depicting his patience and love for oc. 

the written itself… hmmm. i think after writing please love me, i knew that paraluman would have a more simple and underlying slow rising tension tone. i think my biggest thing about paraluman was to get readers to really think and not know who they want. aside from bias, i wanted to show that jin and jungkook had something significant to offer. i was particular with my word choice especially when it came to jungkook. moreover, i tried to add a lot of foreshadow for those who like to reread and notice details. the constant lines “if it’s not _____,” and lines that imply oc never chooses xyz... idk. i can’t remember all of them buT they are there! also,, yoongi calling oc “my love,” jungkook calling oc “my you,” and jin calling oc “my everything,” ..... BROOOO <3 

for the ending, i thought of making one of each scenario. a) oc ends up with jin, b) oc ends up with jungkook, c) oc does not choose any of them. the story went the way it did because i asked on my instagram close friends story so if you want to blame someone for the ending,, you can blame my irl besties <3 but in all seriousness, i really saw the ending go either way. i think i favoured this ending the most because everyone benefits. jungkook grows, oc grows, and even jin. in a sense, jin’s slow and steady change makes all the difference. 

in closing, i don’t think i’ll ever write a fic this long or “serious” again LOL. the fic timeline and character complex just seemed too complicated to turn into a lighthearted fic. i found that embracing it’s faint sadness and desperation from characters would be better told through multiple events and character arcs. it was nice to get this concept out there so regardless, i’m thankful for this journey <3

if you made it this far, thanks for reading my note! what about you? what were your thoughts? what were your favourite parts of the fic? let me know! i’d love to hear about them!

[councilblr-voting-rights]

No1 Councilblr Weirdo Bracket (BEHIND THE SCENES)

First things first, I should note that ALL NOMINEES were included in the bracket. I only excluded TWO users for not having obvious ties to Councilblr. And when I spotted "the whole t4tnavyseal hivemind" I thought it would be funny, FOR THE BIT, to let in every hivemind member I could track down and include them in the bracket (which does mean there were contestants with no nominations).

This lead to a strange number of contestants, so I myself nominated rumiracle-whip and rubysparx to help even it out (one of them is an understated weirdo and both of them are fans of Exandroth so I call that immediately weirdo-worthy).

With a full list of contestants I got to work on the bracket. Users colestyle and burning-sol got separated to help with the odd number of contestants and to avoid any large sweeps. The regular nominees and the hivemind were separated with two exceptions, who I picked just based on *shrugs*. Users with a higher number of nominations I attempted to spread out and everyone else was randomised. I also made some other personal choices for the hell of it. Basically, it was a system of executive choices and also just a luck of the draw.

That's about everything I have to say on the behind the scenes. Since I have experience now, hopefully the next bracket will be easier to run.

Anyways, here are ALL the responses (aside from a few ommissions). CONTENT WARNING: many of these nominations were certified NOT WEIRD and dare I say NORMAL <- next time I will NOT be nice and NOT include everyone because you all cannot be trusted.

21 - colestyle

"i mean. cmon. the gillion eggs post." "i think the gillion lays eggs post is a good reason" "Have you seen his blog???" "are you kidding me" "you know why" "egg post 💀" "do I even have to explain this one" "do you really need to ask that" "funny guy. something deeply wrong with him. fussy. eggs. etc etc etc. need I say more" "eggs" "yeah" "do you even have to ask" "gillion egg webweave" "do i need to?" "self explanatory <3" "eggposting." "obviously" "Fussy, titstrider Tuesday, that gillion egg post" "very strange and off putting" "have you seen !!!!"

8 - burning-sol

"The Everything /affectionate" "Eldritchstrings and general exandroth posting" "i mean ‘weirdo’ in such a kind and positive way here because but i think if the council were to be exposed to his blog they would take some kind of psychic damage from the pinned post alone" "Many reasons, including being the person that started the Morse hivemind clicks" "just look at them" "Because they're my friend, and we can't all possibly nominate Lukas Colestyle" "excessive exandroth and eldritchstrings posting (/pos)"

5 - misty-lilies

"niklaus simp" "they want to get destroyed in a poll" "niklaus apologist 100 emoji" "accidentally started the t4t navyseal hivemind" "my favourite moot who makes banger charcter analysis posts and also is a simp for niklaus hendrix"

5 - navysealt4t

"^_^ get freaky wit it!! am a lil navyseal lover <3" "navyseal and t4t, they are cool and my mutual <3" "1 out of the 2 og t4tnavysealers…." "Them and t4tnavyseal started the t4t navyseal hivemind" "he literally WROTE an entire song for jay based on the idea of a musical. also she's my favorite mutual. so. i must be biased"

4 - willotstreet

"absolute killer.Murderer. SOMEHOW being able to rolan deep post so much im astounded. Thumbs up" "crazy insane rolan deep guy /pos" "honest;y whatever that guys got going on is infinitely funnier than anything else. i log onto this webbed site, watch ren post about their breakdown, then watch them post about how rolan deep is their wife."

3 - jadejemdoesstuff

"Scrimbles" "Hits post limit Way too frequently to be normal" "scrunkly"

3 - nickyclose

"First of all,had the SCUcondi username which was iconic,they are the ceo of Ashe winters and are my friend :}" "SAYS SO MUCH IN THEIR POSTS.SO MANY IDEAS. SOMEHOW. never runs out. Freak behavior. IDEAL !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! slash pos" "constantly brainrotting about npcs"

3 - spacedustmantis

"they r cool and understand gillion tidestrider" "really into plays that's kinda not normal right" "eel boy tidestrider"

2 - sp4rk-p1ug

"if he doesnt get in im blowing this whole fucking website up and deleting the cringe comp and the councilblr discord server and my blog" "i’m colestyles boyfriend"

2 - the-albatross-sails

"british representation" "called old man earl a top, british, just look at my pfp and that's all the evidence you need"

2 - dracolunae / pretzel-the-frogtopus

"No one can run that many update blogs and be considered an average blog /aff" "Beasty beastly beast best beast ORANGE Also they run like all of the update accounts All of them"

2 - alkalineleak

"1. i watched hymn liveblog making the undersea headcanon doc on discord 2. beloved jrwi riptide mutual" "big naturals"

1 - fiveminuterice

"omegaverse post"

1 - atlix2

"he's gotten a litle too silly"

1 - unwitnessprotection

"sorry for shipping william wisp and william wight. ok. sorry. god itd be so funny though. sorry also for contemplating shipping william with the wisp illusion of him. i havent gone to confession in years i could keep going"

1 - xaeyrnofnbe

"I think they are very nice :)"

1 - twinkfromconvergence / maybewren

"im their friend an i think it would be funny"

1 - viewfinder-chernobyl

"They wanted to be nominated"

1 - t4tnavyseal

"they have a cool blog :3"

1 - grrsalot

"freak (aff)"

1 - tragicfaggots

"they are silly :3"

1 - thanatosyaoi

"technically this is discord interactions based rather than blog based but. uhhh. yknow lets just go with “you had to be there” i dont need to disclose what happens in boo’s insane room"

1 - apple-the-bluebird

"You said we could nominate ourselves. Also. The year of the yaoi thing and having multiple posts on the cringe comp"

1 - chaos-caverns

"rand"

1 - seraphex

"Vibes"

1 - verdellium

"as a good friend of rosemarys heres my list on why she is weird and insane: - sent me a video of her doing an "autism jig" (intense stimming) over gillions i hate you speech - sent me a video of wym crying at 1 am over the bitb finale. unnerving and weird to wake up to at 6 am and see that video. - has a 1000 word note in her notes app about how one of his pieces in band perfectly fits albatrio. refuses to share it with me. - wrote like. 200 words to his mutual about band and jrwi. - in her drafts, there is a post that says "gillion is an exmormon. i said it." i dont know where this came from.

1 - tranny-tidestriders

"they reblogged the charlie twerking GIF about 15 times in a row. and he has autistic tboy swag"

1 - enderspawn 1 - fragilecqpricorn 1 - goatmanwithstrawberrytea 1 - asteraeliana 1 - everwizard

Someone simply submitted "ohmigoshiloveyou" and nothing else. The user "firefox-official" was nominated with the note "must i explain" but I couldn't find any obvious ties to Councilblr so I didn't include them, "sadmushroomgoblin" was nominated with no comment and excluded for the same reason.

[drwcn]

CQL!AU: Everyone is an orphan except Wei Wuxian, and the Twin Jades are dark practitioners. Needless to say, that changes things. (canon what canon) 

Master Post

~

[1-3]

[1] Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan were the ones who died early. Wei Changze returned to Lotus Pier to become the guardian and regent of his best friend’s son and heir. 

Lotus Pier was black and white. Lifeless. 

That was the first thought that crossed Cangse Sanren’s mind when she and Wei Changze docked at the port, swords in hand, and their little son in toll. 

The people mourned. Posts were temporarily closed, the market suspended. Windows and doors of their bustling riverside town were firmly shut, with white and black drapes hanging from its sills and fluttering in the wind. 

Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan were dead. Two young cultivators, parents, taken from this world too young, gone before their time. 

“A-Ying, come child,” Cangse extended a hand to the boy who glanced around at the unfamiliar place with timid curiosity. 

“A-niang, what’s going on?” 

“No questions. You must behave yourself today.” Cangse brought her son closer to her, watching her husband’s usually smiling, gentle face pull taut into a mask that betrayed none of the grief he felt underneath. He held himself taller today, shoulders pulled back, spine rod-straight and jaws clenched. She’d forgotten, after all these wonderful years of travelling the world with their family, that this place was once his home. 

“Er’shixiong,” a man greeted them at the pier, flanked by a party of younger Jiang disciples, all appropriately garbed with white sashes around their waist. “Cangse-daozhang.” 

They had spoken in depth about returning. Cangse knew there was nothing she could do to stop him; Changze’s devotion to Jiang Fengmian ran deeper than she understood. It was never herself that Yu Ziyuan should’ve resented; though however misplaced Madam Yu’s jealousy had been, it was a moot point now.  

Chang’ge, I will not ask you to choose between your love for him and your promise to me. If Lotus Pier is where you wish to go, I will go with you. I cannot promise however that I will always stay. That — is not my nature. 

Thank you, Wumei*. I understand. 

They found Jiang Wanyin, the little lord, and his sister Jiang Yanli, in their mourning robes, kneeling and crying before their parents’ funeral altar.  

Wei Changze sunk to his knees beside them, and folded his body until his forehead hit the ground. “Shixiong,” he spoke to the spirits. “I’ve come back.” 

“Who are you?!” The boy Jiang Cheng, five-years-old and hurting, blurted out rudely through his tears. His sister held him from behind and gave a trembling nod of deference to the older man. 

“Wei-shishu.”  

Beside her, clinging to her skirt, Wei Ying looked up and asked quietly, “A-niang, are we going to stay?” 

Cangse Sanren, the favoured fifth pupil of Baoshan Sanren herself, smiled down quietly at her only child and smoothed back his hair. “Yes, A-Ying we will. Lotus Pier is home now.” 

(JC 5 yro; WWX 5 yro; JYL 8 yro)

[2] When Qingheng-jun’s respected mentor died - murdered - he made a very different choice. He turned his back on his clan and his responsibilities, and escaped into the wild with the woman he loved. They were just an ordinary family, living away from the chaos in a paradise of their own. But even Eden eventually falls, and nothing gold ever stays... 

Take A-Huan and A-Zhan and go! Do not stop until you are safe. Do not turn around. Do not come back. 

Shijie! You’re injured! Let me help you - 

Zhao Ming! Zhao Zhuliu, you listen to me: their names, Lan Xichen for the older, and Lan Wangji for the younger. It’s what their father and I wanted for them. 

Shijie - jiejie - 

Now go! Go! 

A-Niang, come with us! A-Niang, don’t go!! A-Niang!!! 

The forest burned like the autumn sun at dusk descending from the sky, red and golden and glorious. A single figure stood amongst the flames, corpses littered at her feet. Bichen fell from her grip, barely making a sound as it landed against dampened earth, soaked with Lan blood.  Those who fought her were dead, but she feared that she did not have long either.

“Rong-gege,” Qiu Baiti collapsed onto her hands and dragged her body towards the man who lay still amongst the carnage, arrows piercing his front, his sword Shuoyue still clutched tight in his left hand. 

Lifeless eyes remained open, as though he could not rest. 

“Rong-gege,” Baiti called helplessly, crawling to him and laying her head down against his chest. There used to be a heartbeat there, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost hear it again. “Wait, don’t go without me...” 

She was so tired and bled from so many places. It was not until a sharp cry and a familiar face descended from the sky that Qiu Baiti realized the inferno which surrounded her was not yet hell. 

"Qiu-jiejie!" Cangse rushed forth, almost tripping over the corpse of a dead Lan disciple in her haste. “Lan-da’ge, he -” A horrified gasp drowned the rest of her words. 

“Cangse...you’re here...” 

Cangse gathered her bosom sister into her arms and immediately drew upon a torrent of spiritual energy from her core, channeling them into her fingertips to heal her friend. She could tell that whatever combat Qiu Baiti had been through, it had already taken the little life inside her, and now hers was following it to the other side.   

“Hold on, I can save you - hold on -”

“Cangse - Cang - stop, it’s too late.” Qiu Baiti lay limp there.  

Death, it drew near, but she was ready. She closed her eyes as a slip of tear escaped beneath her lashes. "I did this to him, to all of them... if I hadn't...it’s all my fault. I was the one they wanted; he was just trying to protect me. A-Huan, A-Zhan...."

Trembling and in near hysterics, Cangse sobbed, “No, don’t say that! Where are the boys?” 

“Safe. A-Ming has them...you mustn’t tell anyone. Not anyone, promise me. Not even Lan Qiren. Especially Lan Qiren... Rong-gege trusts his brother, but I - I - promise me - promise -” Qiu Baiti gasped for breath, gurgling blood in her throat with each laboured attempt. 

“Qiu-jiejie, please - don’t - I - I promise.” 

“Good...Cangse...” Qiu Baiti clutched her hand and smiled, a crimson wound cutting across her pale, beautiful face. “Good.” 

And then she died, with the red of the forest flames still in her eyes. 

Cangse held her friend - dear, damned, dead - and allowed a scream to tear through herself. From the depth of her grief, she released a pulse of unrestrained spiritual energy that rippled through the dense woods as though the storm of her anguish could not be contained. And like a measly candle-light assaulted by the winter wind, the forest fire was extinguished in an instant. 

The sun was gone, and the night was dark.  All was quiet, but there was no peace to be found. 

 Cangse buried Lan Cenrong and Qiu Baiti in two unmarked graves side by side beneath a tall oak tree. She sifted through the bodies and the grime and collected the spiritual weapons they left behind — Shuoyue, Bichen, Liebing (cracked in two places) and the strings of Qiu Baiti’s shattered guqin — and stored them away in her qiankun pouch. She hoped one day that she would find Zhao Zhuliu and the sons Lan Cenrong and Qiu Baiti had left behind, and return these items to their rightful owners. 

It was not until three years later, not too far from her shifu Baoshan’s sacred temple nestled in the snowy mountain peak, where Jiang Yanli had been brought to strengthen her health and train as Cangse’s direct disciple, that Cangse perchance came across Zhao Ming again. 

He was accompanied by two youngsters, two beautiful jade-like children who called him jiufu. Cangse was not surprised in the least to find that both of them have learned the technique for which their mother and jiujiu were hunted: the core-melting hand. 

(LXC 9, LWJ 6 -> LXC 12, LWJ 9 ) 

[3] They called her “The Little Queen”. Wen Qing never wanted to be Sect Master, or Deputy Sect Master, or Regent Sect Master. She just wanted to live quietly with A-Ning and Wen-popo and study the art of healing that her parents practiced. But alas, life had other plans. 

Wen Qing was a month short of her tenth birthday when her life changed forever. 

Wen Ruohan, her father’s older cousin, who’d always been close with her family, had come to visit Dafan. Wen-bobo didn’t have siblings, and her father Wen Ruotian was as close as a brother to him, more than any other Wen descendent of their time. 

Wen Qing liked Wen Ruohan well. He was doting and found her intelligent. Her parents chose the simple village life, but they often spent New Years and holy days at Nevernight at Sect Master Wen’s behest and invitation.  

When Wen Ruohan came to Dafan and told her folks that there was a piece of the Yin Iron inside the Stone Fairy, her father had been eager to help, though weary he was of those powers he could not understand. 

He’d been right to be afraid. 

The extraction had gone horribly wrong, and the rebound of dark energy had eviscerated all those near by, her mother, her father, and Wen Ruohan himself. It was by the skin of her teeth that Wen Qing managed to yank her baby brother Wen Ning out of the way. Then, without thinking, she caught the vile, wretched thing as it sailed through the air. It landed in the palm of her hands, and there she stood, regarded with fear and bewonderment from all those in witness as the cursed item, which burned the life out of cultivators much older and seasoned than her, quieted in her small hands. 

The Elders said she had...a nature affinity. For what, they could not say. 

Wen Qing was brought back to Nevernight and given the name Yuefan: to exceed mortality. Within days, the heavy crown of Sect Master of Qishan Wen was placed on her head. 

It was then that she learned that her Wen-bobo, with no inclination to marry and bind himself to another, did not leave behind a legitimate heir. His young sons, 4-year old Wen Xu and 2 year-old Wen Chao were born to him by women of ill repute.  They were kind, good boys, but they were infantile and illegitimate. Wen Qing felt for them, but she could not change their fate. So for the time being, she accepted what she had to. 

The adults did what they could for her, but there was no one in the cold, vast palace of Nevernight to mind her or nurture her. She stood alone upon the towers where the eternal flames, fuelled by Qishan Wen’s combined spiritual energy, burned in their iron brazier, and watched over the lush volcanic mountain range that was hers to govern and protect. Those beneath her - servants, disciples - feared her and her unknown powers. Those advising her - Elders, mentors - had their own agendas. In any case, they stopped seeing her as a child the minute she held the Yin Iron in her hands and lived to tell the tale. 

It was a secret, they told her. She must guard it well. 

The Chief Cultivator Jin Guangshan sent his ambassadors to congratulate her succession. Gusu’s Lan Qiren and Qinghe’s Nie Heqiu both arrived consecutively to pay their respects to their ten-year-old colleague and fellow Sect Master. 

There was a momentary rumble amongst the Wen Elders about whether Nie Heqiu’s older son Nie Mingjue would be a good match for her someday, but as he too was set to inherit, the idea was put aside as quickly as it was brought up. 

Then came Yunmeng’s regent Wei Changze, bringing along an entourage of Jiang disciples and a boy one year her junior, the son he conceived with the revered Cangse Sanren. 

Wei Wuxian. 

Wen Qing liked him enough. He was spontaneous, agreeable, and clever, and he found her aloofness fun to provoke. They would’ve both been satisfied with the arrangement had she not met Yunmeng Jiang’s young Jiang-zongzhu some years later, and had he not crossed paths with the vengeful and infamous Lan Wangji. 

But life, as the gods have planned it, must have its mysteries. 

(WQ 10, WWX 9) 

TBH?  

Note: 

Wumei - fifth sister, Wei Changze’s nickname for Cangse. 

Details of Cangse and Wei Changze’s name as well as Qingheng-jun and Madam Lan’s name can be found here .

jiufu 舅父 - maternal uncle, formal.  

[lostcoves]

ft. tendou satori x fem!reader 

genre: angst with a fluffy ending

wc & warnings: 1.3k | mental health crisis, self harm, blood, hospitalization

premise: tendou can’t bear to watch you spiral out of control, he will do anything to keep you safe 

note: my piece for @doinmybesthere​‘s mental health awareness collab! my followers and moots might not know this about me but i am a suicide attempt survivor and someone with borderline personality disorder so writing this piece was really profound for me. this is based on my own experiences and i can only hope that you can get a glimpse into what living with bpd is like. please don’t interact with this if any of my above warnings are a trigger of yours! thank you and enjoy the story :)

tendou could sense you were spiraling.

he watched helpless, as the girl he fell in love with deteriorated before his very eyes. your smile turned from bright and cheerful to hollow and forced. your eyes, once shined like stars, were empty. worst of all was your behavior.

he didn’t understand why you were so angry all the time, accusatory and defensive. one minute you were affectionate, the next you were proclaiming how much you despised him. what was going on inside your mind?

“babe..” tendou croaked from behind the door to the shared bathroom of your small apartment, “please, please talk to me. i’m sorry for not telling you i was going out. i really am. i didn’t mean to scare you.”

“go away,” was your response. tendou sighed and blinked back tears, “do i need to call someone?”

“no!” you exclaimed from behind the door, “just.. just leave me alone. i need to be alone.”

“you know i can’t do that, bunny. you’re scaring me,” tendou was on the verge of sobbing. moments like these always worried him. he wasn’t sure what you were going to do in the moment.

a hiss of pain alerted tendou and something in his gut urged him to get you out of that bathroom. standing up, he used all of his strength for his volleyball days and broke down the door with a swift kick, “(y/n)!”

you sat on the ground, breath ragged and eyes wide. your forearms were covered in open cuts, bleeding profusely. in your bloody hands was a razor blade.

“no..” tendou fell to his knees, horrified by the sight before him, “bunny.. why did you do that? why did you do that to yourself?”

“t- tori, i think i’m sick,” you confessed, tears rolling down your eyes in fat blotches. tendou grabbed the razor blade from you and tossed it in the toilet, flushing the blade away. he embraced you tightly, “i’m gonna fix this, babe. i- i promise!”

picking you up bridal style, tendou carried you out of the apartment complex and to his car. he buckled you up and drove straight to the local hospital’s emergency room. tendou feared that you nicked a vein when you cut up your arms.

“someone! someone, help my girlfriend!” tendou screamed upon arrival to the emergency room. you were unconscious by the time you both reached the hospital, tendou’s clothes soaked in your blood.

doctors and nurses alike swarmed the two of you, a group of them getting you on a stretcher. you were whisked away for treatment, leaving tendou to stand there alone. he collapsed to the ground and sobbed, his body shaking. his angel, his angel was sick.

“tendou-san?” a nurse approached tendou cautiously. through his tears, he looked up at the nurse and asked, “wh- what is it?”

“(l/n)-san is gonna make it,” she reassured him, “but in order to best help her, we need to know what happened that caused this.”

“we got into a fight and- and-” tendou choked back a sob, “she cut her arms up like ribbons. she’s sick, she’s really sick and i don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

“we’ll order a psych evaluation and get to the bottom of this,” the nurse gave tendou a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, “we will help her. i promise.”

“okay,” was his answer.

hours went by, as tendou sat in the waiting room. his phone was buzzing with missed calls and texts from his friends, concerned about your well-being. finally, after waiting for five hours, a doctor called out to him, “tendou-san?”

“how is she?” tendou asked when the doctor walked up to him. the doctor offered tendou a smile, “(l/n)-san is gonna have a smooth recovery. she was lucky to not have cut through any of the veins in her arm. we managed to stop the bleeding and stitch her up.”

“and the psych evaluation?”

“doctor mochizuki can answer your questions,” the doctor stepped aside and a tall woman in a white coat approached tendou, “tendou-san, i’m doctor mochizuki. i performed a psych evaluation on your girlfriend.”

“good to meet you.. what did you find out?” tendou cut right to the chase.

“just to clarify, you’re (y/n)’s healthcare  surrogate, correct?” asked doctor mochizuki. tendou gave her a nod, “yeah. (y/n) has no family and grew up in foster care so she made me her surrogate in case anything bad happened.”

“alrighty then,” doctor mochizuki seemed pleased, “then i’ll be straightforward with you. your girlfriend has a condition known as borderline personality disorder.”

“borderline what?” he asked.

“borderline personality disorder, it’s a severe psychiatric condition that- if left untreated- can result in great harm to your girlfriend,” the psychologist was brutally honest.

“can you make her feel better?” tendou’s throat began to close up, as tears formed in his eyes.

“with extensive therapy and medication, she can live a long and happy life. the best course of action for now is to admit her into our inpatient psychiatric unit.”

“i’m not putting my girlfriend in a mental hospital! she’s not crazy!” tendou yelled, angry and scared.

doctor mochizuki laid a hand on his shoulder, “she’s not crazy, i agree. but she’s very sick and she is at risk of suicide, especially after an episode of that magnitude,” she then added in a soft voice, “it’s for her own good.”

“can.. can i visit her?” tendou sniffled.

“of course you can,” doctor mochizuki smiled, “and our unit has some of japan’s finest psychiatrists and psychologists, one of which is an expert in personality disorders like what (y/n) has. she will be in good hands.”

tendou took a deep breath, “okay.. as long as (y/n) consents. can i see her now?” he paused, “please?”

“of course,” doctor mochizuki stepped aside and gestured down the hall, “she’s in the room over there, first door on the left.”

“thank you,” and with that, tendou gathered his belongings and made his way to you. he carefully opened the door, not wanting to disturb your peace, and shut it quietly. the sight of you hooked up to machines galore and your bandaged arms made a pit form in the center of tendou’s stomach.

“hey bunny,” he whispered, taking a seat next to you on the bed. he caressed your cheek gently and watched as your eyes fluttered open. a groan escaped your lips and you spoke softly to tendou, “where.. where am i?”

“you’re in the hospital. you had.. they called it an episode,” tendou explained.

“an episode?” you asked, still groggy from the medicine. 

“yes, bunny,” his voice shook a bit, “you have a personality disorder.”

“i do?” you were confused, staring up at tendou with those doe-like eyes of yours, “what’s.. what’s that?”

“it’s called borderline personality disorder and it’s making you very sick,” tendou held back his tears, “but the doctors here are gonna help you get treated, okay? they want to take you to the inpatient psych–” he cleared his throat, “the mental health unit.”

“will they help me feel better?” you reached out for tendou’s hand. he took it and held it close, “yes, yes they will. you will be in great hands. i promise, i promise i’ll visit you as much as i can until you’re released.”

“okay,” you sighed and gave tendou a smile, “i’ll do it.”

tendou nearly cried with joy at your answer, “you’re so brave, baby girl,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

a diagnosis like this changed everything but tendou was ready. 

he would do anything to keep you safe and happy.

[internalsealpanic]

Lesson Learned

summary: Pinning exercises are a lot easier when you ask nicely.

a/n: The backstory to this piece was that I went to the church part of our discord server and told people about me being thirsty about Slade and they collectively went: DO HIM. The reader does have a backstory which boils down to rich girl from a crime family is a little shit because I thought this would have a funny dynamic with Slade.  Special thanks to @batarella and @knightfall05x for proof reading and giving me ideas. Would this count as my one entry for kinktober? 

warnings: ��This is straight up smut. Please read responsibly. Brat taming, strength kink, daddy kink, orgasm denial, and hinted size kink. (Hilariously half of these were by complete accident.) There is some injury mentioned but not too graphically. Both characters are assholes.   

masterlist

Slade was on the ground, his head was swimming even as the sharp shriek of sirens rang loud in his ears. His senses were at once too sharp and too unfocused. Whatever drug he'd been hit with had to have targeted the nerves in his muscles too. He couldn't move. Not substantially anyway. Not in a way that would actually help him.  Through the haze he hears the clicking of heels against the floor, then a sharp pain shoots through him when said heel dug into one of his still closing bullet wounds. 

 You stood above him, your shark's smile hidden behind your mask.  "Well old man, I didn't think you would be caught this easy. I might need to rethink this meeting." You hummed tapping your chin as you lean down your heel digging further into his flesh. It's a tactic your sister had taught you. People were less inclined to think clearly when in excruciating pain.  If Deathstroke was this easy to capture, was he really worth your money? 

 He was watching you, blue eyes looking defiant. You whistled low. You liked a hard negotiation. It kept things more interesting. The rapid footsteps of men drew you out of your contemplation much to your annoyance. You debated on just paying them to go away. It would make your life easier but there's a chance these men were truly loyal to the man you had just paid a visit to.

 You weigh your options. His reputation may be enough to keep your siblings away. Maybe just long enough 'til their petty little war is over. "I'm going to hire you-"

 "-this assumes I'm going to say yes"

 You snorted. He noted the confident roll in your shoulders, the kind of cocky self-assured gesture of someone who knows they're going to win.  Every movement, every angling of your form deliberately used to show a difference in power and lack of respect. In short, it made you very punchable.

 "Your statement assumes you have a choice." You chuckled tilting your head to the side in challenge. He scowled at you and you try to keep the sheer delight you feel out of your body language. You weren't sadistic by any means but for one, brutality was practically bred into you, and two, you are, what your darling eldest brother had so kindly put, a  little bitch.  "I'll tell you why you'll say yes to my proposal." You said stepping off of him and pirouetting towards your duffle bag. "One, I'm offering your more than a million dollars in cash for the simple job of training me-" You observed his face as it remains carefully impassive. You expected as much. You heft your bag into your arms and unzip it rummaging through the cache of weapons you had stored just in case plan A through F failed you. "Unless we're associated, I'm the only one walking out of here with any money for their troubles." You said tossing the severed head of his target in front of him. You gave him an all too pleased grin. 

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

 You find yourself pinned down again in the span of 15 minutes, face squished against the training mat, your arms pinned behind you, and most annoyingly your ass raised while your bastard of an instructor laughs in your ear, his lips dangerously close to your ear. You hiss and bristle feeling the fibers in your muscles burn from the uncomfortable angle they've been forced into.  You squirm trying to buck him off but his strength rendered your efforts moot. His enhanced strength keeps your body firmly between the sweat-covered mat and his large, toned body which just made you bite your lip to keep anything vulgar from escaping you. 

 You were 110% sure he was fucking with you at this point but any smart remark you had was either smothered by the mat or died whenever you felt acutely aware of your skin against his.  

 "Get off of me, old man," You snarl, making a futile attempt to kick him off with one of your legs. He chuckles at your weak attempts, the reverberations from his chest pressing against your back sending a thrum of excitement rolling over you concentrating into more distracting areas. You can't see it but you know he's grinning smugly above you and you can't decide whether it's your horniness or your anger that will win out. You sincerely hope it's the latter. 

 "C'mon, kid, you can get out of this," He encourages but you don't miss the playful mockery dancing in his tone. You squirm and wriggle and sigh. "Just let me out," You demand, politely. He doesn't budge. You turn your head to pout petulantly at him. That doesn't do anything either. 

 You sigh again. You hated pinning exercises with a carefully cultivated passion which you would normally direct at whatever instructor was dumb enough to force it upon you. However, that wasn't really possible as of this moment. One of the reasons for this hatred was that you were never pinned down unless you wanted to be, even then they were usually too hesitant to follow through so you never really saw any practical use for the skill. That is until last week when you found yourself being pinned down by the Red Hood which was honestly a fantastic position if you weren't trying to get away from him. Apparently, the large man didn't take too kindly to being shot at even when your very professional self explained that you were in fact a decoy. After you were entirely unable to slip his hold, you begrudgingly agreed to let Slade teach you a few maneuvers. The other reason was that you liked being pinned down. Your body is far too enthusiastic about the feeling of being pinned down. You're pretty sure you've expended more energy into suppressing your thrilled shivers than you have trying to get out of any of the holds he's demonstrated so far.  The fact that he was an attractive asshole with no shirt did not help.    

 "Maybe if you ask nicely, princess" He drawls his teeth grazing your ear, beard bristling against the sensitive skin of your shoulder. You bite back a groan and stop the cant of your hips. "Or are you even capable of that?"

 "I am, sir" You grind out but it sounds too breathy to be threatening. You feel the curve of his lips against your shoulder.

 "Dunno, brat, I've never seen you do it," He taunts pressing closer to you. You're suddenly aware of just how close you two are. You hate how the way he called you brat sent thrills up your spine. You try to even your breath but you're entirely too feverish both body and mind. You had to think of something before you were lost in a haze.

 You nudge your arm one last time before an idea strikes. A familiar shark-like grin spreads like wildfire across your features. Pressing your ass against his crotch, you roll your hips, the movement slow and deliberate and painfully tempting. Sure, it was a dirty trick but 1) he never said anything about using your assets 2) you've been wanting to do that since the first hold. You feel his muscles tense and you can't help but radiate smugness.  Your smile vanishes, however, when he rolls his hips against yours giving you a feel of his hardened length through the thin fabric of your gym shorts. The slow, tantalizing friction against your core draws out a vulgar moan from you. 

 "Do you wanna run that by me again, brat?" He whispers low and husky emphasizing the last word with another grind of his hip. You pant, hips answering back with their own desperate movement. You want to let your hips keep moving, to make him move, to feel his cock against your core but pride flared in your chest. "Make me." You bite out. "I really should teach you some manners."You feel the low rumble of his answer in response seemingly amused by your continued resistance. He rocks his hips against yours drawing out another breathy moan from you. Out of spite you bite your bottom lip and rock your hips in tandem with his. What did you hope to accomplish from this? You don't know but it certainly felt good. Your skin feels hot and oversensitive as your bodies continue to move at this rhythm. The feel of his muscles rippling against you makes you arch your back. You wanted more but you had too much pride. As if spurred on by the movement, he presses a kiss on your shoulder and sucks at your flesh, a rough hand grips your waist tight enough to bruise. "Slade!" You choke out losing your composure.  The cry sounds more like a plea than you would like. You sound so small and needy beneath his ministrations. 

 Distilling your anger into your weakening limbs you try to buck him off again. You make a small noise of triumph when he budges but whine when his grip on you just gets tighter. "Not quite, princess,"  

 He flips you onto your back. A hand pins both your arms above your head as he situates himself between your legs. His lips capture yours in a rough kiss, the type where you feel two bodies fighting each other for dominance. His teeth bite lightly against your bottom lip asking for entrance. You open your lips less in concession and more of a challenge. The wet muscles of your tongues entangle. Your nose is filled with the musk of him. It was overwhelming. You moan into the kiss and you feel him smile into it. Another small victory. 

 Slade ends the kiss having undeniably won the match. You try to move your hand to punch the grin off his face but again your hands don't budge. You curse his enhanced strength halfheartedly as the feeling of the heat coiling in the pit of your stomach takes over. Instead of diving back in for another kiss as you expected, Slade trails kisses down your jawline, your throat, and your collar bone leaving very defined very visible hickeys. There was something oddly possessive in his actions.  The look in his eye was predatory. 

 You, foolishly, let your attention wander to your hands seeing what angle you could possibly force them into so you can slip his grip and maybe turn the tables. Your attention snaps back to him when the pressure around your chest loosens and the distinct sound of a zipper fills your ears. Your eyes widen as you watch as he unzips the front of your sports bra with his teeth. Your breath catches even as your chest fills with the lack of constriction. Your too hot skin is grazed by the training room's cold air. He places a kiss in the valley between your breasts but when you whimper and move slightly urging him to proceed. He moves on to your stomach. "Asshat" You seethe through gritted teeth. You let out a groan of frustration. You were going to kill him. You honestly don't care if you've just wasted half a billion dollars on this asshole. 

 His kisses drift down to your inner thigh drawing a moan from you. Slade chuckles seeing your desire seeping through the thin fabric of your shorts. He isn't entirely surprised considering how unsubtle you are about your interest. A rare moment of embarrassment blankets you. Your legs try to close but rough hands pry them apart placing them on his broad shoulders. You bite your lip when he plants a kiss on your inner thigh. Your lips are puffy and red at this point, looking delicious as you panted. Slade wonders how your lips would feel around his cock but he decides he'll save that for another time. He hooks his fingers on the waistband of your shorts and his eye widens momentarily when he doesn't feel a second layer of fabric underneath it. He looks at you incredulously.

 You shrug trying to keep the mischief off your face looking absolutely unapologetic. "It's laundry day-" You shrug a little amused that this is the detail that caught him off guard. "-I did tell you I had stuff to do~"He also supposedly had stuff to do but, apparently, you were stuff. He chuckled and without dignifying your comment with an actual response, he rips your shorts off with ease and tosses them somewhere behind him.  A complaint or a threat, you weren't entirely sure, died on your lips when his tongue gave your core a nice long lick. A loud, needy keen escapes you. Your hands now free from his grasp dig into his scalp.  Pleased with your reaction he continues. His skilled tongue exploring your core hitting spots you didn't even know were there. Your hips meet to match his pace as he fucks you with his tongue. You whine when he withdraws his tongue but mewl loud and wanton when you feel two rough fingers stretching your insides. His mouth latches onto your sensitive bud, fingers pumping in and out.  You throw your head back not being able to contain your moans.

 "Look at me, brat," The command is deep and resonant. Your whole body buzzes with excitement. Slade can see your eyes dilate as his voice drops an octave. 

 "Yes," Your breath hitches when he doesn't move. "Sir" You add as a concession hoping it was enough. You felt your pride waning from the small piece of power being given away. Thankfully, he rewards you with another long lick before you can dwell on it. Slade watches as your face twists in pleasure trying your best not to throw your head back. You see the smugness on his face even when half of his face is buried between your legs. You don't attempt a threat simply because you don't trust whatever comes out of your mouth to be coherent. You were so close. You rock your hips trying to chase your high. Your skin is flush and glistening with sweat. You were so close. He feels your walls tightening around his fingers. Another needy keen escapes you as you were about to tip over the edge. 

 The motherfucker pulls back. You snarl at him but it comes out sounding more like a needy croon than anything else. He chuckles at you even as he captures your lips for another kiss. His tongue is thick with the taste of you. Your hand tangles itself into his hair while the other tugs at the waistband of his sweatpants.  He pulls away giving your lips one last nip before his body is off of you. It's funny how just moments ago you wanted him off of you badly enough that you'd play any dirty trick you could think of but now your skin is burning for his touch.  He takes off his sweat pants and his engorged cock slaps against his abs. It takes every brain cell at your disposal not to drool at the sight of it. He was BIG. You wonder briefly if he would even fit.  

 He spits on his cock rubbing his head against your thoroughly soaked folds. You mewl. A playful look in his eye does not go unnoticed but you were far too preoccupied with other concerns. Thankfully, so did he. Slade eases into your pussy in slow shallow thrusts. You can physically feel your walls stretching inch by inch as he works his way into your tight pussy. He can feel every bit of resistance your pussy is putting up. It's his turn to hiss when he finally bottoms out. Your walls cling to his member trying to milk it for all its worth. You drag your nails down from his shoulder to his arms. You pout when his skin heals immediately. You wanted to mark him as he did you but apparently, his healing factor was not up to being kinky today.   

 He laughs at your little protest and gives you a quick kiss. He begins to thrust shallow and languid. Your lips are locked in, sensually nibbling at each other's lips. You arch your back pressing your chest against his musculature savoring every bit of stimulation you could get.   You cant your hips against his urging him to go faster. His large hand grips your hips and pins them down. The coil in your stomach grows tighter at the ease at which he stops you. You feel him grin against your hot skin. 

 "Didn't I say I would teach you some manners?" He pulls himself out leaving you feeling hollow and wanting. You're pretty sure if you weren't drunk on your arousal the look in your eyes would be nothing short of murder, however, this was not the case, Whatever venom you had in you vanished in a swirl of neediness that racked your body. Your cant your hips uselessly trying to find friction only to be met with cool air. 

 "Slade pleeeeaaase!"

 You gasp, as a sharp stinging sensation on your pussy knocks the breath out of you. Slade gives you an expectant look. 

 "Sir, plea-"

 Another slap. Your back arches.  You’re panting heavy, mind swirling and searching. 

 "Daddy please!" The words tumble from your lips thoughtlessly. You both freeze. Slade's face is unreadable making you want to shrink away and let the earth swallow you whole. Panic rises in your chest until you feel his hips slam against yours. The force is enough to knock the breath out of you. He manhandles your body to fuck you at a better angle. His grip on your thighs tight and bruising. You whimper when he dips his head down near yours pressing kisses to your jaw and the pulsating flesh of your neck leaving your mouth free to moan his name like a mantra.   A deep resonant growl rumbles in his chest sending thrills through your skin into your spine. Your hardened nipples drag against his chest as they bounce with his pace. His cock pumps in and out of you at an animalistic pace. You were absolutely going mad over his rough pace but it wasn't enough to push you over. You were both so close.

 "Daddy, please! I- I need-" Slade's cock twitches. His pace goes from animalistic to punishing in the space of a heartbeat. He growls into your ear as he reaches down to rub your clit with skilled, calloused fingers. Your walls tighten around him as you go over the edge.  Your orgasm hits you in a flurry of heat and electricity. He fucks you through it as he chases his own. He pulls out his cock. Ropes of cum covering your chest and your stomach. 

 He lays beside you pulling you close. You moan quietly still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, planting an open-mouthed kiss. You ease into his hold and close your eyes. 

 "See how easy your life is when you're a good girl, princess," He whispers mockingly into your ear. You raise a middle finger at him too fucked out to care whether it actually conveyed as much venom as you wanted it to. 

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Thanks for reading! Next week will be our regularly scheduled fluff unless I get possessed by the thirst muses. 

tag list:  Tag list:  @batarella , @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes ,  @boosyboo9206 , @americasmarauders , @l-horizondepeu , @arestorationofbalance  , @cloudie-skay , @knightfall05x

[alovesongshewrote]

Hiiii idk if you’re taking requests or anything rn but!! My birthday is coming up in a few days and I wanted to ask if you could do a cute one shot with douxie celebrating his witch gf’s birthday 🥺 pls don’t feel obligated!!! I just love your writing SM hehe ❤️

BIRTH(Day) | Hisirdoux Casperan x Reader

Plot:  Your friends tried their best, and you had to give them that.  Besides, fire was your thing!

Word Count: 1,621

Warnings:  Pyromania

A/N:  Happy birthday anon!  Hope you enjoy this!  Also, fun fact, on my seventeenth birthday i got hit by a car, rip :/

Tag List: @furblrwurblr

“Wizard Dad, is the Witcher distracted?  Over,”

“War hammer, the Witcher is very distracted, are you sure this was a good idea?”

“Absolutely, don’t let her know what’s going on!  Over!”

Douxie sighed, “Over,”

The plan was pretty simple.  He was supposed to keep you distracted while the guardians of Arcadia set up a surprise party in your apartment.  He could only hope that things were going well on their end because distracting you was more difficult than it seemed.

But he’d managed!

You were now helping him fight off at least twenty shadow mephits, and you were not at all focused on the fact that it was your birthday.  

He wasn’t sure how it had happened.  You’d been walking through Arcadia, just vibing, when suddenly, mephits.  Douxie didn’t know if that was inconvenient or not.  On one hand, it was a distraction that he didn’t have to put any effort into.  On the other hand, you both had to wrangle the mephits.  It was, in his opinion, a draw.

“Douxie!  A little help please!?”

“I’m on it!”  

He blasted a few of the mephits away from you before rushing to your side.  You kicked one of them in the face before spinning around and firing a spell at two more.

“There’s too many of them, do you have a plan?”

He did have a plan, but that plan involved coming out of this unharmed and getting you back to the apartment.  It was not useful against shadow mephits.

“No, just keep fighting,”

You did for a few moments more before you remembered the can of hairspray and the lighter at the bottom of your bag.  Why did you have those things on your person at all times?  For situations like this, of course.  You were actually a little disappointed that you hadn’t thought of this earlier.

“Cover me!”

“Wait, (Y/N), what are you doing!?”

“Just trust me!”  you yelled, diving for your bag and digging through it.

Douxie covered for you to the best of his ability, but he was one wizard, and there were way more than twenty mephits now.  This was no longer a draw between inconvenient and otherwise, it was straight up not a good time.  He was seriously wondering what ancient deity he had pissed off to have this as a distraction, or what deity you had pissed off to have this happen on your birthday.  It could have been puppies.  There could have been puppies in the road for you to gawk at and play with, but no.  Some god out there had decided on shadow mephits.

One of the creatures jumped at you, but before Douxie had a chance to call out a warning, you spun around setting the thing on fire.  The wizard was pleasantly surprised by this, although he was a bit concerned by the fact that you had the tools to craft a flamethrower on your person.  Did you carry those on you all the time, or-?

You carried them on you all the time.  Aside from joining to form a successful flamethrower, hairspray and lighters were just important tools to have on hand.  You only used them to build flamethrowers though.

“Doux, watch out!”  The wizard jumped out of the way as you turned the flames in his direction, singing the edges of his hoodie and setting the mephits around him ablaze.

You cackled with utter glee as you set fire to the world around you.  To a bystander, it would be concerning, but you were having the time of your life, and Douxie was used to this.  He was actually more than used to it.  He’d been dating you for years, this is what he’d fallen in love with.

The fire jumped around you, seeming more alive than any other fire on the planet.  It moved almost at your command and burned brighter and longer around you.  It didn’t take Douxie too long to figure out that this wasn’t regular fire.  It was magic fire.

When you were done, you set fire to the sky for a moment, laughing still as the flames continued their dance above you.  And then, you were done.

With the mephits defeated and the fire out, you tossed the hairspray and lighter back into your bag and calmly walked over to Douxie, kissing him on the cheek, “That was the best birthday present ever.  Thank you, babe!”

You sounded so sweet, and not at all like a woman who had just set fire to a bunch of monsters.    

It was pretty hot.

You made your way back to your bag, making sure everything was in its place before zipping it up.  Out of earshot, Douxie spoke to someone you couldn’t have seen even if you were looking.

“Wizard Dad, we’re in the clear, send in the Witcher, over,”

“Perfect timing, Toby,”

“War Hammer!”

“Yes!  Right, sorry,”

“Who were you talking to?”

Douxie nearly jumped out of his skin, “Nothing!  No one!  Come on, love, let’s go home,”

“Aight.  Are you okay?”

“Yes, darling, never better,”

You bit your lip, looking at the singed edges of his hoodie, “Cool beans.  Let’s get gone,”

He smiled at you as you spun around, heading in the direction of your home.  

To anyone else, it might just be a regular apartment, but to Douxie, and to you, it was everything.  It was a place where safety was confirmed, where the two of you could be yourselves and just exist without the pressures of being known by anyone but each other.  And Archie.  Douxie loved living with you, spending time with you, all of it.  Even if some of the towels were singed, he wouldn’t want to live with anyone else.

“Douxie?  You sure you’re good, babe?”

The wizard smiled at you, “I’m more than okay, I promise,”

“Then come on,” you grabbed his hand, “Let’s go,”

Douxie was glad to follow you home.

He was less glad to open the door to your apartment to see a bit more than the towels singed.

“Oh, fuzzbuckets,”

“What?  I didn’t do this?”  you entered your apartment, trying to figure out who burned literally everything in your home if it wasn’t you.

“SURPRISE!!!!”

“OH MY GOD!!!”  you screamed, flinging your bag in self defense.  It hit Krel, knocking him out even though it didn’t hit his head.  You weren’t sure how that happened, but there was no time to think about that.  At the moment you were focused on the faces of your very embarrassed friends, trolls, aliens, changelings and humans, all of whom were probably responsible for burning everything in your apartment.

And it wasn’t only burnt.  Behind them, a white banner hung on the wall, the word, “BIRTH” was written on it in large red letters.  Someone had thrown glitter at the sign in an attempt to make it better.  The glitter, however, had not stuck to the banner, instead, it coated everything in your apartment.  You were pretty sure there was frosting on your ceiling.

“Happy birthday?”

“Aww, you guys!’  You exclaimed, looking around your apartment, relishing in the chaos, “Thank you so much!”

They all visibly relaxed, thankful that you weren’t mad about the mess.  But why would you be?  You were a witch, you could clean it.  Also, fire was your thing.  You were fine with a little soot.

Your eyes were wide as you took it all in, “You’re all so amazing!”

“It’s no problem at all, (Y/N),” Jim said, his nerves slipping into his voice as he scratched the back of his neck.

“You heard her guys!  She’s okay with the scorch marks!  Let’s party!”  Toby yelled, eager to stop stressing after what had been a very tense and flammable party set-up.

And so the party began!  It was pretty chill, there were many vibes, I don’t know how to describe it because I’ve been to one party in my entire life, but let’s just say it was dope.  Halfway through Krel woke up, and was totally fine.  Everything was going well.

And it kept going well.  

It seemed that the universe decided that a metric ton of shadow mephits and a burnt apartment were enough for one day. By the end of the night, you were pretty tired.  You’d sent the children and trolls home at a reasonable hour because you were a pyromaniac, not an irresponsible influence.

You and Douxie used magic to clean the apartment after everyone had left.

“Are you actually okay with the burns and the glitter?”

“Okay?  It literally could not be better,”  you looked at Douxie, smiling brightly, “Our friends tried their best to do something nice for my birthday.  Did they burn the apartment?  A little, but I don’t care.  It was sweet, and,” you picked up a handful of glitter, “They gave me free ammo,”

You threw the glitter at your unexpecting boyfriend, hitting him in the chest.

“Oh no, you don’t!”

The glitter fight that ensued was glorious.  You both fought bravely, not stopping for anything.  Your tactics were well thought out and nearly fool-proof, but alas, you were battling against the person who knew you best rendering all strategy moot.  After a fierce and shiny battle, you found yourself cornered by your wizard.

“Surrender, love?”

“Never,”

Before Douxie could throw more glitter on you, you grabbed his face and kissed him.  He melted into it, not noticing your hand reaching back for more glitter until it was too late.

You came away from the kiss before throwing glitter into your boyfriend’s face, giggling at the displeased look on his face.  Your laughter made him crack a smile before he kissed you again.

“I love you, Doux,”

“I love you too.  Happy birthday, (Y/N),”

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

I hate to be an asshole, but I see this a lot and I'd like your take because while we have differing opinions on some things, your metas are spot on (and I binged half your stories last weekend, oops) and I know you'll be straight up with me on this. What "chemistry" between Zuko and Katara? I keep seeing that and not getting it? The chemistry when he roughed up her grandmother and threatened her village? The chemistry when he tied her to a tree and violated her boundaries? (1/3)

The chemistry when he hired a trained assassin to stalk her good friend and if collateral damage happened, oopsie? The chemistry when he stabbed her in the back after she was nice to him in the crystal catacombs? The chemistry when he demanded that she accept him? Or the chemistry when he showed he didn’t know her at all? The chemistry when both of them were grossed out being thought a couple? Or is it the chemistry when he saved her and Katara couldn’t wait to kiss another guy? (2/3)

I dislike r/eylo from Star Wars fandom. I think it sends the wrong message. But as much as I hate it, there was chemistry there from the first. Rey is attracted to him and Kylo is attracted to her. They don’t want to be, but they are and it plays out in the next two movies. There was none of that in ATLA and I can understand z/ks saying it but other people? What am I missing? Where am I not looking? I’m not even that huge on Katara/Aang but Zuko/Katara chemistry where? (3/3)

Obligatory disclaimer: this is my personal response to anon’s questions and my personal thoughts on Zvtara’s chemistry. I’m not going to put this into the main tags - much less the Zvtara tag! - because while I believe this is a genuine question, I don’t doubt there’s at least one person out there who will misconstrue it as “hate” because the A:TLA fandom is, uh, aggressive in its ship wars lol. However, if I have any Zvtara shippers following me, I encourage you to reblog this post with your own thoughts! Please refrain from sending your commentary on anon unless you’re going to be friendly about it, lol; I like to keep my blog positive and welcoming! Thank you :)

Firstly, I am EXTREMELY flattered that you enjoy my metas so much and binged half my fics!! I was grinning so gleefully as I read that part of your asks,, y’all are too sweet to me. 💛

Okay. Moving on.

So, the main question here seems to be this: What chemistry exists between Zuko and Katara in A:TLA?

Short answer? None, in my opinion.

Longer answer? For all the reasons you outline in your asks, I do not perceive any romantic chemistry between Zuko and Katara within the series run of A:TLA. Note the qualifiers: “romantic” and “within the series run.” I’ll try to break down what I mean!

“no romantic chemistry”

For one, a romantic interest with anyone in the Gaang would have undermined Zuko’s entire redemption arc, full stop. Yes, I mean anyone. For Zuko to have joined the Gaang because of romantic interest* would have been… counterproductive. Zuko joined the Gaang because he realized - to put it very simply - that the Fire Nation was wrong. He realized how he’d been indoctrinated since birth. He realized that he could help the Avatar (instead of trying to, uh, kill him lmao) by teaching him firebending. He realized he could help Aang defeat the Fire Lord and bring peace to the four nations. Zuko realized he could help end the war. He could help break the cycles of violence and abuse that had in part made his own life so miserable. For him to join the Gaang because of romantic interest? Completely takes away from all of that. A key theme of A:TLA is dismantling imperialist power, propaganda, rhetoric, etc. Zuko’s decision to fight against Fire Nation imperialism is crucial to his redemption. He could not have been redeemed without making that choice. Thus, if Zuko had joined the Gaang because of romantic interest, it would have been completely counteractive to his redemption.

(*That is, the relatively popular [? I think?] implication that Zuko and Katara’s moment in “The Crossroads of Destiny” was romantic-coded and thus Zuko should have joined the Gaang at the end of Book 2 because he had romantic interest in Katara and she in him. I genuinely am clueless how people interpret that moment as romantic - like to me it’s honestly heartbreaking! Katara offers Zuko tentative sympathy only for him to stab her in the back minutes later - so if someone would like to share some thoughts, please feel free to do so!!)

On a similar note, for Zuko to take the lightning for Katara at the end of the series because of romantic interest would also undermine his redemption arc. Please note: this does not mean Zvtara shippers cannot interpret the Agni Kai as being romantic-coded. Of course they can! That’s what fanon is for! Transformative works! But in terms of canon, Zuko did not try (and fail, rip) to redirect Azula’s lightning because he was romantically interested in Katara. (I mean, in terms of canon, Zuko and Katara were both romantically interested in other people, too, so… Moot point, lol? But I digress.)

Zuko taking the lightning is about him learning to earn forgiveness and accept unconditional love from his family (both Iroh and the Gaang). It is a selfless act, and it directly parallels Zuko’s selfish act in “The Crossroads of Destiny” to stand silently while Azula strikes Aang with lightning, thus becoming complicit in Aang’s death. The point of his “sacrifice” is that Zuko would have taken the lightning for anyone (and don’t get me wrong - the moment is doubly powerful with Katara, as she’s a primary protagonist!). Zuko did not attempt but fail to redirect the lightning because it was Katara he was protecting; he took it because it was the right thing to do. Zuko has learned to differentiate between “right and wrong” on his own. To at last put others before himself. To make his decision about romantic interest? To make Zuko’s most selfless act in the series (not to mention one of his only 100% selfless acts!) about out-of-the-blue “romantic love”? That not only lessens the impact of his decision, but it is also reductive to Zuko’s entire character and arc. There’s no romantic chemistry there.

Again, of course, fanon exists for purposes such as interpreting Zuko’s failed misdirection of the lightning to protect Katara as romantic. Go wild!! I’m talking strictly about canon.

So that pretty much summarizes why romantic interest with anyone in the Gaang would have been detrimental to Zuko’s redemption, hence why Zuko doesn’t have any canon romantic chemistry in the Gaang. It just ain’t there! It would have screwed over his arc! And again, because of all the reasons you outline, I cannot comfortably interpret any romantic chemistry between Zuko and Katara within the series run of A:TLA. Personally, romantic Zvtara would have been too sudden, too unexpected, and too… well, as I said: uncomfortable. Why would Katara have romantic interest in a guy who’d hurt her so many times? Who she’d only just forgiven? Why would Zuko have romantic interest in Katara, a girl he barely knew for most of the series? Especially when he already had feelings for a childhood friend? I, personally, just don’t get it.

But. You know what Zuko and Katara do have in canon?

A phenomenal platonic bond.

It develops very late, admittedly; Katara has only forgiven Zuko for the last five episodes of the series (5 out of 61… Katara was only on good terms with Zuko for 8% of the series, lmao). But Zuko and Katara are very, very similar personality-wise, so it follows that (eventually) they’d be great friends! Yeah, Zuko acts like an entitled dick for a good portion of “The Southern Raiders” lmao, but he ultimately respects Katara’s decision to spare Yon Rha (love that scene so much 🤧). Katara recognizes that Zuko is trying his best (if sometimes falling short) to redeem himself and earn the Gaang’s trust, and she also understands how - while she is completely justified in her anger! - holding that hatred close to her chest isn’t good for her. So she offers him a third chance (and honestly, Zuko should be forever grateful for that lmao!).

So what can a strong platonic bond lead to? Well, if it’s in your taste, a romantic relationship!

“within the series run”

As aforementioned, I don’t see any romantic chemistry between Zuko and Katara within the series run of A:TLA. I think Zuko has hurt Katara in too many ways - and again, she has only just forgiven him by the end of the show - for there to realistically have been any blossoming romance between them. I think romantic interest for anyone in the Gaang would undermine Zuko’s redemption. I also think M@iko and K@taang are well-implemented romances into A:TLA, so romantic Zvtara would not have fit into the narrative. (Doesn’t mean someone has to ship them!! I just mean they made logical sense and had narrative purpose within canon. That’s all.) But again, Zuko and Katara have a great platonic bond. So while I don’t see romance within the series run, I can understand why people might be attracted to Zvtara in post-canon!

Post-A:TLA (disregarding LOK, which I haven’t even seen lol) Zvtara has some solid potential. I’m personally intrigued by the idea of how they’d navigate their relationship amidst all the politics! Basically, any relationship with a strong platonic bond can have potential for “more.” That’s why people ship T@ang, that’s why people ship Zvkaang, Zvkka, M@ilee, etc. So while Zvtara may not have romantic chemistry within the show - in my opinion! - they’ve got one of my favorite platonic bonds, so I can totally get people wanting to explore that bond in post-A:TLA and possibly translating it to romance.

So for some people, then, it might be less about “chemistry” in A:TLA itself, but more how their relationship could grow and change after the end of the series!

Quick sidebar: I mentioned that while I do not interpret the final Agni Kai as romantic, I’m fine when other people do. It’s fanon! Ain’t no big thing! But also, Katara has forgiven Zuko by that point. I, personally, am not comfortable with reading any of Zuko and Katara’s TSR-and-earlier interactions as romantic because of the imbalanced power dynamic. Example: I don’t think Zuko tying Katara to a tree and manipulating her with her mother’s necklace was romantic, and I don’t like the resulting implications when people do treat it as such. Zuko was still so indoctrinated by Fire Nation propaganda… Yeah, from Book 1 to about halfway through Book 3, I personally don’t feel comfortable shipping Zuko with anyone outside of the Fire Nation. Pre-redemption Zuko was not the most fun person to be around if you were non-Fire Nation.

But as I’ve said, these are all just my opinions! Again, if I have any Zvtara shippers following me, please feel free to reblog with your own thoughts! I would love to know where the idea comes from that Zvtara had chemistry within A:TLA, since I personally don’t see any romantic vibes (though platonic chemistry, of course, abounds.)

(For the record, I don’t know anything about Star Wars, which is why I haven’t brought up R.eylo, lol.)

TL;DR - To me, there isn’t any canon romantic chemistry for Zvtara. Narratively, I think it would undermine Zuko’s arc. Logically, because of how Zuko treated Katara for 92% of the series, I personally cannot interpret any of their interactions as romantic. But their platonic bond? Beautiful!! Thus, if people want to explore post-A:TLA, fanon Zvtara, I am all for it.

[cheswirls]

this was meant to be a set of drabbles but the length of the first one got away from me, so it gets its own post. ill do the others some other time, probably when the month gets easier.

-

“can i stay over?”

sabo blinks, losing concentration from the sentence on his computer screen. he looks up and over the top at ace on the adjacent side of the table. “what?”

“can i stay over?” ace repeats, less question in his tone the second time around. he steeples his hands and rests his chin on top. 

“yeah, sure,” sabo says before he thinks about it much, still in a daze. ace hums and doesn’t say anything, so he slowly turns back to his laptop. but then ace is standing, stretching with his arms over his head, and lazily turning in a circle to wander to the edge of the room.

“i’m taking a shower,” he says, and sabo, who had stopped reading again to watch, nearly has an aneurysm as he processes the words.

“w-what?” he sputters, sitting up straighter, gathering his legs under him. 

ace turns his head back, frowning, one hand on the bathroom door. “shower?”

“oh. okay.” he can’t help if it his voice squeaks. twice.

“you’ll let me sleep with you but you draw the line at using your soap?”

“that’s not-” sabo waves him off. “just go.” 

ace closes the door and sabo attempts to read the same line three different times before acknowledging he was getting nowhere. he leans back with a sigh, letting his hood fall further back on his head, and gazes up at the popcorn texture of the ceiling. maybe he’d agreed to that too quickly. he was used to living alone, and though he and ace had been dating for a while now, they’d never done something like this before. plus, his schedule was already erratic. what if-

before he can incessantly worry any more, the shower turns off, and ace’s voice comes through the cracked door. “where’s the tie to your robe?”

oh. “that one’s gone,” he calls back. he blinks, startled, as a stray thought crosses his mind. “what clothes are you wearing?”

“can i borrow some of yours?”

“y-yeah?”

ace opens the door and moves into the main room, and sabo’s eyes catch on to the long tie belonging to his second robe -one that definitely couldn’t fit ace- wrapped around the material. ace turns the light off as he passes and moves into sabo’s bedroom, and sabo feels himself breathe easier with the other out of sight. a ting has him glancing down to his phone, seeing one of the alarms he’d set has gone off. this drives him back to the computer, managing to finish reading the section he’d been on and start typing again.

ace comes back in and settles in his former seat, picking through the books he has spread on his side of the table until he finds the one he’s looking for, folding it shut. he grabs another one and a pen and leans back to read, and as soon as he’s not moving anymore sabo’s attention snaps fully to his paper. they pass the time as they’d been before, focused on their own schoolwork, until ace glances up at the time and starts shuffling his things into a neat pile.

a tap on the side of his keyboard draws sabo’s attention, and he looks over to see ace watching him. his fingers still on the keys. “yes?”

“it’s pretty late,” ace muses.

sabo frowns, resisting the urge to chew on his lip. “not that late,” he argues. it’s a moot point, and when ace’s eyes narrow in thought he turns back to the screen, unable to continue looking at him. “you can go to bed. this is due in the morning, and i’m almost done.”

“okay.” sabo’s shoulders drop with relief as ace gives in. “what time do you need to be up?”

“uhm.” sabo’s eyes lid. “my first class is at nine.” he usually figured that out right before he went to sleep, setting a random alarm that would satisfy his sleep schedule and leave him with enough time to not be late. thinking about it now, before midnight, and unsure of when he would be done, was . .

“got it.” he glances over at ace’s words, curious, but he’s already rising from his seat. sabo doesn’t spare him much thought after that, knowing he needed to concentrate if he was ever going to finish. the world fades to black on white, and he doesn’t notice as ace’s things begin to disappear from the table, as their miscellaneous snacks are put back away, and all the empty bottles and wrappers thrown in the trash. the lights dim until only the one above the oven in the corner remains, just enough for sabo to get by without casting him completely in darkness. 

he only looks up again as ace kneels beside him, pulling his hood back a little. he turns his head to acknowledge him, and ace leans forward to place his lips on sabo’s forehead for a moment. then he pulls back and pulls sabo’s hood along with it. 

“goodnight,” he murmurs.

sabo’s smile is soft, warm. he leans away as ace’s hand drops. “night.”

when sabo finally deems himself done, it’s nearing two in the morning. he closes the lid of his laptop and lifts his arms above his head in a stretch, arching his back. the kitchen light turns off in favor of the bathroom one, and he swings the door close to shut, knowing it would stay warmer without the air circulating. he pulls his hoodie over his head while turning the water on, giving it a minute to warm up.

after he towels off he throws on his newer, longer robe but pauses as he spies the tie tucked into the pocket. right, that was right, ace was-

sabo jerks to a stop after turning the bedroom light on, wincing. the futon is spread out in a corner of the room, ace’s back to him. he doesn’t rouse, but sabo turns off the main light in favor of the smaller one in the closet, instead. it takes a minute for his eyes to adjust.

he pauses again after working on some underwear and a shirt. that was usually all he wore to sleep, but he . . did he need pants? he owned some, but it was warm out, so it had been a while since they’d been touched. did it matter? 

no. he stops himself from overthinking it. it didn’t matter. it was fine. he wasn’t going to change anything. this was all going to be . . okay.

the more he tried to convince himself of such, the less sure he became of it.

after all the lights are turned off, sabo moves over to the futon and frowns when he sees ace on the end closest. he reaches out with his foot and nudges ace’s back, until his head moves and he lets out a small noise.

“move,” sabo orders, and ace huffs. his head shifts up further, then down again, curling back into the pillows.

“‘s room,” he mumbles, moving an arm into the space between him and the wall. sabo’s lips purse.

“fine,” he breathes, stepping over ace. well, he usually ended up there anyways, so it worked out. he pries the edge of the thin blanket from around ace and pulls it over, until it’s evenly spread between them. 

the futon is not big, and ace and sabo are two college kids, so the limited space is made less so with the both of them. sabo frowns as he inches away from the cold wall, tucking the blanket around that side, but then that brings him further into ace’s space, and-

an arm snakes around his side, warm, and sabo’s mouth that had opened in an inaudible gasp slams shut. he lets himself get dragged forward until he and ace share the same body heat, and their hair is overlaid on the same pillows. ace’s eyes are still closed, but his mouth was open a little, like he was debating speaking.

sabo beats him to it.

“i haven’t set an alarm yet.”

“done,” ace murmurs. “don’t stress.”

he shifts again, until his forehead is pressed lightly to sabo’s, and his eyes open just a little. his other arm moves up, hand curling under sabo’s cheek, and he leans into it, both his own hands moving to wrap loosely around ace’s forearm.

“okay?” ace asks, barely a breath, eyes already closing again.

“yeah,” sabo whispers back. 

a faint noise rouses him from sleep, but it’s unlike what he’s used to, and his own phone would be blaring right by his head, so it had to be something else. eventually it stops and sabo relaxes again, content to ignore it.

movement wakes him again, and his eyes slant as they open. 

“time to get up,” a voice says, right by his ear, and he realizes that the room was lighter, and he’d mistaken the dark fabric of a shirt for the darkness.

sabo’s eyes open more until he’s looking at ace properly. that was- that was right. “time?” he croaks.

“doesn’t matter. we’re getting up.”

ace smirks and sabo has one second to take that it before the blanket is gone, and it’s cold in the absence of all that heat and he curls into himself, shivering, drawing his bare legs closer to his chest. “shit,” he breathes, sharp, eyes wide. “why?”

“would you get up otherwise? c’mon, don’t-” ace reaches over to hook a hand under sabo’s bent knees and another around his shoulder, and pulls him halfway into his lap. sabo’s lips purse at the mistreatment, and he cranes his neck to bury his face in ace’s hip.

“horrible. awful. unbelievable,” he mutters, and above him, ace snickers. 

“right, that’s me. what do you want to eat?”

sabo unearths his face to look up, eyes sparkling. “you’re making breakfast? god, i love you.”

ace rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “guess it’s my choice then. c’mon, off. up.”

sabo lets himself be pulled to a stand, the promise of food too tempting to ignore. he ignores whatever ace is doing in favor of washing his face, and throwing on some sweats. his hair is a mess, but he doesn’t feel like dealing with it properly just yet, so he combs it through with his fingers as he settles at the low table per ace’s request. 

breakfast is amazing, but anything ace cooks is. it’s enough to make him forgive being roused before eight in the morning, and even moreso as they get ready together, slowly, leisurely, something sabo hasn’t had the foresight to plan in a long time. it’s nice to be able to afford to relax, and not have a whirlwind form while flying through his morning, barely making it out the door in time.

“did you finish your paper?” ace asks from behind him, running the brush through more tangles. sabo hums in response, leaning back on his hands, crossing his legs on the counter he was perched on. “do you need it printed?”

“yeah. i can do it on campus.” unfortunately his own printer had run out of ink the week prior. he’d yet to have time to go buy some more.

“we should leave soon, then.” ace steps back and sets the brush on the counter, and sabo opens his eyes.

“yeah, okay.”

ace ends up in the same clothes he had on yesterday, but he’s not overly concerned about it, and sabo knows he had a late start today, so he could always run home and change if he felt like it. they gather their things and step outside, and ace waits by his car as sabo locks the front door.

“i’ll swing by to get you later, and we can do lunch,” ace mentions as they turn into campus. sabo hums, moving his gaze from out the passenger window to over at ace.

“thanks,” he says, and then watches as ace blinks, trying to come up with a reason. he glances over when they roll to a stop at a crosswalk.

“what for?” he ends up asking.

“staying last night.”

“ah-” ace cuts off with a laugh. “it should be me thanking you. it’s not that big a deal, right?”

“no.” sabo unclips his seatbelt as they stop on the curb. he’d convinced himself that it was, and got worked up for nothing after all. he slides the door open. “i’ll see you later.”

ace raises one hand from the steering wheel to offer him a wave. “see you.”

sabo makes the mistake of looking back once he’s halfway out. he makes up his mind in a split second, moving back into the passenger seat, and leans smoothly over the center console to press his lips to ace’s. ace hums, hand stilled in the air moving to rest on the side of sabo’s hair. they stay like that for one, two, and then sabo’s moving back, climbing out of the car and waving once the door is shut.

he stays there until ace drives away, then digs his phone from his pocket as he makes for the doors.

[navigatrixnarrations]

The Same Constellations

Word Count: 1922

Warnings: Some profanity, mentions of violence. They’re pirates.

Set between Parts 4 and 5 of @whenimaunicorn’s epic The Heart of Admiration series, we’ve got angsty Vane, voice of reason Jack, and firmly in denial Hope. Are these disaster pirates learning to talk to one another?

Jack Rackham shakes his head in disappointment at the fresh cuts and bruises on Charles Vane’s face. “At this rate, by week’s end it will be a minor miracle if you have any skin left at all. I suppose I should just be grateful you’re leaving the opium alone.”

Instead of answering verbally, or even sitting up, Vane lobs an empty rum bottle past his quartermaster’s head. Both men are well aware that he missed on purpose.

Unperturbed, Jack continues. “If you need to work off some, shall we say, frustration, the men have glowing things to say about the local brothels.”

Vane just glowers at Jack. He already tried that back in Nassau. Whores who bore any physical resemblance whatsoever to Hope. Whores who looked as dissimilar to Hope as possible. Somehow he felt even worse afterwards. Emptier.

“That motherfucker said Hope needs to be taken down a peg.”

“So you felt a need to take on him and several of his men all at once. Was she even present when he said whatever he said?”

Vane drags himself upright. “No.”

“Then maybe a better use of your energies would be spending time with her.”

Vane acts as though he didn’t hear a word of it.

Jack lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Chaz, Hope isn’t Eleanor. She isn’t going to betray you because she wants to get ahead or because she’s bored or because it’s Thursday.”

“Fuck you, Jack.”

Jack throws up his hands. “By all means, continue to get in brawls with all of Tortuga. That is certainly more sensible than, oh, as a brief example, talking to her. I’m sure she’ll be very grateful that she lost her old crew only for you to get yourself killed in some idiotic fight.”

Vane’s chin juts out dangerously. Jack doesn’t know what it was like when he was a child and the overseers made sure to take away anything they even thought he and the other slaves wanted. How Eleanor did more of the same, used everything he even hinted at wanting against him, just to prove she could. But Vane has to begrudgingly admit that Jack, damn the man, is right about one thing: Hope isn’t at all like Eleanor. “Seems likely she’d be relieved.”

“I highly doubt that.” Jack pauses, and though Vane’s thin lips curl in a silent snarl, he’s listening. “The night we backed up Mackinaw on the beach, she stood with you.”

“She told me I was foolish.”

“Yet she stood with you anyway. You didn’t see her face when she lost sight of you in the scrum, or when she saw you were still standing. I did.”

And she caught him when he stumbled on his wounded leg. The memory of her body tucked warm under his arm as she steadied him, her hand over his heart, was something that kept him awake, made him restless. Her voice, telling him he had been foolish, but noble...“And?”

“And she’s currently at the Cat’s Head eating her supper and assisting me in hunting up leads. Perhaps you would like to clean yourself up and join her.”

----------

Tortuga hadn’t changed much while she was in Nassau, and Hope feels no small relief to be back in its familiar surroundings, where she isn’t a newcomer yet to learn the major players and where, she thinks dryly as she finishes her meal, she hasn’t made enemies of the tavern owner or fence. Out of the corner of her eye, Hope glimpses a blond man in the clothes of a working pirate strolling toward her. She turns her head to meet a pair of green eyes and a broad grin and oh, son of a bitch, what are the odds that Liam O'Malley would be here with some of his crew.

"Hope Wickham! I didn’t know you were back in Tortuga!”

"Temporarily. Are you still on the Shrike?"

"Aye, got elected Captain a couple of months ago. You don't happen to be looking for a position, by any chance?"

“I appreciate the offer, but I've got one."

"That's a shame. I could use a good navigator. You're not still with Fisher's crew?"

“No, Charles Vane’s.”

O’Malley lets out a low whistle. “Look at you, then. Well, if you change your mind, you know how to find me.” She gives him a friendly hug and promises to have a proper catch-up soon.

She turns around to see Vane standing several paces away, watching, body stiff and his face a thundercloud. He gives her a hard stare then turns on his heel and storms off.

Hope excuses herself to follow her captain, hurrying after his long strides, wondering what set him off. She’s relieved to see that he’s no longer favoring his injured leg; when she asked if he needed help getting the stitches out, he grumbled at her to stop fussing. She later learned that he made a temporary truce with Doctor Mills, the ship’s surgeon, to assist him with that task, though immediately thereafter the two men each returned to pretending that the other did not exist.

She catches up with him on the jetty, where he’s leaning his forearms on the railing and staring out to sea. Hope senses a kind of bleakness radiating from him. He turns his head at her approach, then goes back to watching the tide roll in.

Hope comes to a halt beside him and furrows her brows as she examines the new injuries to his face. “Who did this to you?”

He grunts. “Does it matter?”

She rolls her eyes heavenward, refusing to dignify that with a response. “If you were planning on getting in fights, you could have told me.”

“So you could try to talk me out of it?”

“And so I could have your back if that didn’t work.”

Vane turns toward her with guarded eyes and his jaw clenched tight. “The men I fought insulted you.”

“Captain Vane, I didn’t go to sea because I wanted an easy life or a safe one. I know there are men who will always resent me and talk shit about me because of my sex. If you try to fight them all, you’ll never have time to eat or piss.” She never considered Charles Vane the type to defend a woman’s honor like that, and she most certainly does not need him to defend hers, but she’s surprised by how touched she is that he felt a need to stand up for her when she wasn’t there.

“Are you going to sign your friend’s articles?”

Hope doesn’t try to hide her shock. He thought she accepted O’Malley’s offer? "I told him I’m not looking for another position."

“Do you think he’ll leave it at that?”

“It’s not at all up to him, but yes, he will. We go way back.”

Vane merely raises his scarred brow.

She takes a deep breath and attempts to summon her patience. "If you're wondering whether I used to be with O'Malley, the answer is no. He's a friend, and we used to sail together when we were both apprenticing, but things were never...like that between us." She isn’t sure why she needs Vane to know this. It’s none of his business that she has never been with O’Malley, or for that matter, with any other man, just as it would not be his business if she had bedded every man on Tortuga.

He looks at her coolly. “It isn’t that.”

Hope feels her heart jump, but she refuses to back down. "What then?" She meets his blue eyes squarely.

"I’m concerned for you."

It’s Hope’s turn to arch a brow.

"I know some of his men from Nassau. They're shits, and you would be a woman alone with them."

She lets out an exasperated sigh. "I can look after myself." How is the man so consistently irritating? And why does she feel a pang in her chest when she recalls the look of hurt that flickered across his face, fleeting as it was, when he saw her hugging O’Malley?

Vane's scowl lessens. "I know you can. But you shouldn't have to, not amongst your own."

"It's a moot point anyway. Unless you're firing me, I have no intention of leaving your crew."

She swears she sees some of the tension go out of his shoulders.

"You always have a place with me." His voice is quiet, as gentle as that scraping rasp allows.

Hope wasn’t worried that her position was in any danger to begin with, so why does she feel so...warmed by his words? It makes no sense. There is no calculation she can run or measurement she can take to solve this puzzle. The words tumble from her mouth before she can think to stop them. “Then that is exactly where I’ll be.”

A smile crosses his face, bright as a flash of sunlight on the water and just as brief, before his expression turns grave once more. “So long as you recall that you have a choice.” He needs her to know she isn’t trapped. He needs to know that she knows she isn’t trapped.

"That you give me the choice is exactly why I stay on with you." She pauses, trying to figure out how to explain. “The moment you realized you had not given me free choice to be on your crew, you made it right. You listened to me, and you made it right. That means a great deal.”

Vane nods. Exhales slowly. They stand side by side in companionable silence. After a time, she speaks again. "When I first went on the account, I sailed with a man from Timbuktu. He told wondrous stories about his homeland, of vast ever-shifting seas of burning sand where the only way to navigate is by the stars, same as we do at sea. He'd speak to me at night while I was working, because he had a daughter about my age who he missed terribly. We used the same stars to find the way, he and I, but we called them by different names. We used the same constellations but saw in them different creatures. Neither of us were wrong, and we got to the same answers, but if asked to explain how we did it, we would say very different things." Hope turns her head so she can look him in the eye, not in challenge, but trying to will him to understand.

“You think when we disagree, we’re sometimes looking at the same thing in different ways.”

“Just so.”

Vane’s hand reaches over to cover hers. He starts to step closer, ever so slightly, when a breathless, sweaty-faced Jack comes running down the jetty towards them. “I’ve got it, Charles! I’ve got the lead we were seeking. But there are people...” His eyes slide over to Vane’s hand, which is still wrapped firmly around Hope’s. He startles and nearly jumps backwards a pace when he realizes that he interrupted them.

“Then we’d best go talk to those people,” Vane growls. He glances down at Hope with the faintest shadow of a grin. “Luckily we’ve got a skilled negotiator who isn’t afraid to knife a man.”

Hope snorts and makes a wry face. He has never before mentioned the corpse she’d left in his cabin during the first raid she went on with him.

As she walks beside her captain, his words keep ringing in her ears. You always have a place with me.

[fallintitan]

introducing....................moot!! who is now cooper and bt’s dog. love her or else.

[ao3 link]

Supposedly, it’s recon. ‘Supposedly.’ He knows the truth: BT thinks he needs something to do to entertain himself. Part of him knows it’s true. He gets antsy when there’s nothing to accomplish. He also knows BT hasn’t truly sent him off to fend for himself. The Titan is likely keeping his focus on Cooper as he treads through the abandoned facility. The last known place of their target, but as it appears, the target and the IMC are long gone. All he’s doing is wandering aimlessly through empty rooms filled with discarded gear and weaponry, nothing notable. 

“Pilot,” BT interjects his thinking. “Straight and to your right. There’s a heat signature registering inside.”

“Is it human?”

“It does not appear to be.” A pause. “I advise caution. It could be a stray Prowler searching for food. Be on guard.”

He unholsters his rifle, knowing damn well how imposing those beasts could be if they figured you were easy prey. He finds the designated room, the door shut and locked firmly. 

“The door’s locked?” He peers at the crumbling lockpiece from the outside. “Prowlers are way too smart to be kept in a room by just a lock. If there’s a window, they’re for sure going out it.”

“There does appear to be a window inside the room,” BT comments.

“This isn’t a Prowler, then.”

“Still, be careful.”

“Of course, bud.” He unsheathes his dataknife from his torso and gets to work prying the faulty lock apart. Within minutes, the thing falls off and clatters to the ground. He kicks it aside, pulling his rifle back into position as he kicks the door in.

He’s expecting...something else. Something snarling and furious, already on the attack even before he enters. 

What he finds is quite the opposite.

The dog huddles in the corner, curled in on herself. Her ears are as low and as far back as they can go; her tail tucked firmly between her legs in submission. A thick, worn out collar wraps around her neck, connected to a length of durable chain that clinks across the floor as she shivers. Her piercing blue eyes don’t leave him as he steps in slowly.

“Oh, you poor thing,” he coos, kneeling down. The rifle is holstered once more on his back and one gloved hand reaches out towards her.

“Pilot?” BT speaks. “What did you find?”

She recoils away from him as he reaches out to her. Her eyes squeeze shut as her whole body trembles. Immediately, he retracts his hand in a flash, allowing her to relax, albeit slightly.

“It’s just a dog,” he utters. “They must’ve been in a hurry to get outta here.”

“Does it appear to be hostile?”

“Quite the opposite.” He sits on his haunches with his hands dangling from his knees. “She looks scared. Worse for wear, too.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” BT starts hesitantly. “But we cannot--”

“C’mon, BT, you’re usually all for my ‘bad ideas’.” Cooper whines.

“While your ‘bad ideas’ are typically dangerous--including this one--,” BT starts, “I simply cannot allow this one to go through.”

“Why not?” he pouts.

“Look at where she came from,” BT reasons.  “She was raised by the IMC, likely to attack soldiers like you.”

“She’s obviously failed her job, then, if she’s cowering in the corner to get away from me.”

“Pilot,” the Titan sighs. “I am sorry. We simply cannot take the risk.”

“What happens if we leave her, then?” Cooper retorts. “She’s already hurt. If a Prowler or something finds her, she’s done for. Can we at least take her back to find her a new home?”

BT’s optic narrows in thought.

“Look, she obviously ain’t gonna go after us. She’s smart, yeah? She knows we wanna help.” Cooper looks sideways at her. “At least, one of us does,” he grumbles. “Even if she feels like doing something, she’s in no state to.”

The Titan is silent, thinking over Cooper’s words. Finally, he speaks. “Alright. Answer me this: how are we going to transport her?”

“By God, I’ll carry her myself if it’s necessary,” he swears solemnly. “I am not leaving her behind if I can do anything about it.”

BT relents with a sigh. “I see your mind is set.”

Cooper smirks to himself. “You’re damn right.”

“Alright,” BT relents. “I will await your arrival outside. If she is indeed injured as harshly as you say, do be careful handling her. She may lash out.”

“I sincerely doubt she will,” Cooper promises as he sticks his hand out once more. She still flinches away, but moves out of her hiding spot to tentatively sniff his fingers after a moment. Slowly, he turns his hand over, palm down, reaching gently for her head. Her eyes shut once more, ears back, seeming to brace for some sort of harsh strike. 

Cooper hums sympathetically. “She wasn’t treated right,” he states. His hand connects with her head softly, where he rubs soothing circles into her fur with his thumb.

“The IMC is not exactly known for their humanity and kindness,” BT quips.

“You’re not wrong,” he says. Timidly, her eyes open back up to look over at his face. She does not move, does not wiggle out of his reach, but seems to be gauging whether he truly meant no harm or not.

“You’re okay, sweetie,” he murmurs. He shifts to sit down on his rear, scooting closer to her. “You’re in good hands now. We’ll fix you up, get you situated. How’s that sound?”

He swears he sees her tail twitch between her legs, some sort of aborted wagging attempt.

“I gotta pick you up, though. You don’t seem to be in any shape for walking on your own.” He appraises her state thoroughly, now that he’s close enough. One hind leg seems to be broken, if the way it’s sitting improperly is any guess. She is covered in raw patches, especially around her throat. “They treated you like shit,” he sighs. “That ain’t gonna fly with me. I’ll kick their asses, just for you.”

Hesitantly, her tail starts to feebly wag once more, her ears slightly perking up at his voice.

He moves to stand, the dog watching him as he does so. He gets to working on the thick collar around her neck, careful of the raw skin underneath. Soon, it’s unclipped, falling to the ground with an exaggerated noise as the chain rattles with it. Next, he stoops over to slip his arms under her, attentive so as to not jostle her unnecessarily. One arm goes beneath her hindquarters, one under her front legs. He lifts her up with surprising ease for a dog of her size. Another thing to add to the tally--they didn’t feed her properly. Figures.

She wriggles for a moment in his arms before settling. He holds her like he would a child, propped against his torso with steadying hands keeping her safe.

“We’ll getcha outta here, how ‘bout that?” He continues to speak to her as he begins retracing his steps out of the facility. “Back at base I’ll pester the Whitecoats until they fix you up. Shouldn’t be that hard for them, eh? Commander Briggs will surely fall for you. She’s a dog person. If you and I both give her puppy eyes she won’t say no to anything I ask.”

Outside, BT is waiting for them, still on guard. He looks down at his Pilot as Jack exits the building with his armful.

“No take-backs,” Jack immediately informs. “You agreed to this. She’s our problem now.”

“I did not intend to go back on my word,” BT assures. He kneels down to be closer to Cooper’s level, peering at the beast in his arms. “Interesting coloring,” he comments.

Cooper looks down, taking in the details on the dog now that they’re outside and in the bright sunlight. Her fur is a steel-blue with white accents spread haphazardly around her body. Her nose is chapped from being dry, one ear is crusted with blood, and she is positively caked in dirt.

“Even if you wanted to go back, your point is moot.”

“‘Moot’?”

“Means you have nothin’ to go on,” he explains. “My mind’s been made and I’m not changing it any time soon.” He pauses. “Come to think of it, ‘Moot’ is a pretty good name.” He looks down into the blue eyes once more as he continues to speak. “You like that for a name? Moot? Are you a Moot?”

Her eyes narrow happily as her tail manages to wiggle as much as it can from where it’s pinned against his forearm.

“You are already babying her,” BT scoffs lightly.

“She deserves it,” he shrugs back. BT lowers his palm for Jack to climb up into, the cockpit hatch hissing open wordlessly. “Gonna go for a ride, Moot. Don’t you worry, you’re safe ‘n’ sound.” The hand moves towards the Pilot’s seat, allowing him to gingerly step off and settle into the seat with Moot laying in his lap. 

“Seeing as the base is abandoned and we have no further tasks to perform, I suggest finding a safe spot and waiting for evac,” BT hums. “A good time for some relaxing, if needed.”

“Sure thing,” Cooper agrees. “Lead the way.”

⁂

Later into the night, once they’ve settled in a grassy patch up high, Jack carries Moot out of the cockpit and settles her on the ground tenderly. Rain patters down gently, distant rumbles of thunder echoing across the area. Moot shivers each time it sounds, and his heart twists. He shuffles out of his jacket, instead wrapping it around Moot’s core and tying the arms loosely around her neck to keep it in place. The dog’s fur is sodden and matted, raindrops trickling off her timidly laid-back ears. He hopes that offering his jacket at least keeps her warm.

BT automatically shifts to offer shelter for the two of them, blocking the rain with the bulk of his body. His cyan optic casts a dim glow down onto them, creating stark shadows. 

“I must admit something,” he rumbles out after a moment. 

“Shoot. What’s up, bud?”

“I am ‘falling’ for her as well.”

A grin splits Cooper’s face at the admission. “I knew you wouldn’t keep up the stoic facade with her,” he laughs. “You’re too much of a softie for that.”

“On the contrary. My chassis is built with solid metal, Pilot.” Jack can hear the snark in his Titan’s response. 

“You know damn well what I meant,” he waves a hand dismissively. 

BT’s voice rumbles in lieu of a laugh, instead remaining at the level of an amused hum.

“That mean you’re gonna help me beg Briggs to let her stay?” he asks hopefully. “I’m sure the other guys will pitch in, but she certainly can’t say no to the both of us.”

A huff comes from the Titan, bemused. “Yes. I will help you, the mighty Jack Cooper, savior of planets and countless lives, beg your commander to let you keep the canine.”

[chibimyumi]

Kuro 161 Summary & Thoughts

その執事、執拗： 狩るか、飼うか? That Butler, Tenacious: To hunt or to keep?

In the previous chapter (160) we see what Rin had been trained for at last; big target assassinations. She failed at her mission and made Sebastian spill the tea. But now chapter 161 will spill... even more tea.

“Failure of a mission means death, there is no time to think, I gotta run,” Rin reasons and runs for her miserable life. It is but a simple phrase, but it adequately sums up the ways of the underground society she belongs to.

Back in the Phantomhive manor O!Ciel is understandably distraught. Sebastian however seems too amused to be bothered by such an assault on his master even though he only narrowly managed to prevent it seconds ago. I do not blame Sebastian for his peculiar priorities however.

As he claims, he cannot sense the presence of humans within the possible range of shooting, nor were his demon ears able to hear the sound of the trigger being pulled. So who or what could possibly have been able to handle a rifle and aim for his master’s little head with such astonishing accuracy and skill? Quite impressive indeed. As discussed previously in S&S Kuro 158, Rin did indeed turn out to impress Sebastian enough to spare her life.

However amused, the butler’s duty never ends. Hastily Sebastian washes and dresses his master with such astonishing speed, I bet even the dirt on the boy’s body had not noticed they were made to leave.

Without further ado Sebastian excuses himself, and the hunt is on!

Within all normal common sense, Rin believes to have secured enough distance between herself and the Phantomhive manor to be in safety. Despite her logical judgement however, she cannot help but be overcome by paranoia and check her surroundings. This shows just how much knowledge and fear Rin has gotten in her during her profession as assassin.

Then, almost like in a Looney Toons series, a figure bolting from afar leaving a train of dust and smoke behind itself approaches. The figure’s steps leave a loud train of ‘doh doh doh doh...” sounds like an overly aggressive rain dance performed by a seagullzilla. Surely the unsuspecting worms underneath the ground would at least pop out their heads to check what kind of weather would be responsible for this monstrous rainfall.

Seagullzilla’s face is now in sight, and Rin identifies it to be the butler of the household. She is shocked, but allowing the shock to sink in is a luxury that she does not have on her hands, so she decides to finish her pursuer and takes aim.

With great ease and a smile on his face, Sebastian dodges all the bullets headed for him. We know that the demon is very confident about his speed, and now even more so that he estimated to have enough time to first wash and dress his master, seat him at a table, and still be able to catch the assassin. This is yet another reminder of how terrifying our Trash Demon™ is, and that if anyone were to try escape him, they would merely have a snowflake’s chance in Hell.

Only a second ago, Sebastian was still so far away from Rin that she could take immaculate aim for the target’s vitals. Rin probably only had the time to blink, and suddenly the butler has already appeared right in front of her with apparent murderous intent.

Murderous intent indeed, but it was not her life the butler was after, but the man named Pigeon behind her who was about to silence Rin for her failure.

Again Rin does not get the time to ponder about the meaning of all that had happened, and she is already engulfed by Sebastian’s black miasma. “At last we meet.”

“Young master, pardon my insolence, but I have caught you an owl.” Sebastian has brought his prey in really not unlike a tied animal. Rin is pinned against the floor with only her hands tied back. Presumably, even Rin knew why her captor did not bother tying her feet, as any attempt to flee would prove to be moot.

“Haku of the Qing Syndicate keeps an incredibly skilled sniper named ‘Owl’ who is after my life...... it appears that this intel was correct,” the young Earl says. This catches Rin’s immediate attention and she makes the educated guess that there must be a traitor within the Syndicate. “K-kill me! Torturing me will only make your floor dirty!” Rin quickly pleads.

“Torture? Oh I will do no such inefficient thing,” Sebastian scoffs with a ridiculing smile. As it appears, the demon disagrees and looks down on torture. As discussed in this post and this post, Sebastian is indeed not unnecessarily ‘actively’ cruel; he simply does not care about the well-being of anyone he is not interested in. Or in the least, Sebastian is not cruel in a physical way (when it comes to psychological torment though, his cruelty is without peers, of course).

It is very interesting to see how the image of demons most people have is that they would resort to cruel behaviours like impaling or skinning people alive. To Sebastian who 1. is only interested in the soul of a human rather than their flesh, and 2. does not have a physical body of his own but is simply an embodiment of his mind, naturally psychological torture is so much more meaningful.

Though not entirely related to the current chapter, this bit does give a nice little insight of Sebastian’s personality. Thought for later!

Returning to the main case; clearly somebody with accurate information had informed O!Ciel of ‘Owl’s’ existence and the Qing Syndicate’s agenda. Who is this ‘traitor’? The first person to pop up in my mind was Lau, but is this instinct correct? Not very likely, but not impossible. It also entirely depends on whether Lau already knew O!Ciel or not.

Previously in chapter 159, Sebastian delivered a letter from his master’s “dearest”. Was this letter just another one of Queen Victoria’s to send her Watchdog on a mission? Or was this the letter sent by “the traitor”? Judging from the way the letter is wax-sealed, it seems more likely the sender is a person of acknowledged social standing, so the probability of a mafia member to have sent this is somewhat lower. Still, this does not rule the possibility out entirely.

Again, this is material for future speculation and revelation.

After Sebastian makes clear that he will not do anything like torture, he instead proposes something rather outlandish. His proposal is something readers like you and I have known for at least 14 years (waow...this manga is 14 years old now...), but to O!Ciel and Rin, it is something beyond their wildest expectations. “Instead, won’t you come work for the Phantomhive family?”

“What do you mean, Sebastian!?” The boy protests. “I meant my words in a literal sense,” the butler replies. “To speak entirely honestly, we have a severe staff shortage in this household. We just had to be employed be a bizarre master who just seems hell-bent on not employing new servants. If what occurred today were to happen again, Finny would simply not be equipped to handle the situation. Owl’s eyes seem to be especially efficient for far distances, they could prove to be effective in keeping watch in security.”

The young master does not seem to be convinced, and understandably so because the candidate the butler has his eyes on had indeed just made an attempt to murder him.

Sebastian assures his master that there is no need for worry as the assassination attempt has failed. He explains that failure in the underground society is not ever met with toleration. Once someone fails, they shall only be chased to the end of the world and live a life of a fugitive. Rather than being a fugitive for the foreseeable future,  Sebastian proposes to Owl that starting a new life as a servant to the household would be a win-win situation for the both of them.

“Besides, Young Master, did you not say you wanted one maid in appearance alone before?”

“A maid?” the young Earl repeats in puzzlement. “Indeed. “Owl” is... from a human biological point of view, a woman.”

For many years Rin has lived as a man to protect herself from danger. The 19th century was especially unfair to person viewed as women, indeed. Though the butler exposed her secrets in an unacceptable manner, could it be that this also liberated her from having to live hiding true self from the world?

Regardless, I bet that in the next chapter, we shall find out whether Rin views this ‘exposure’ only as sexual harassment and undue exposure, or whether there is also a sense of relief mixed within.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Desert Sands: Part 6

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Scott, John, Alan, Virgil, Gordon

As it’s Thunderbirds Day, I’ve got a few things lined up to post, starting with the next part of this one!  I’ll also catch up with AO3 and FFN today.

Those of you who have noticed my absence and contacted me checking in - thank you for your concern!  I am fine, I’ve just moved into uni and lockdown starts tomorrow so I’m having to deal with that fun and games...  Updates will continue to be sporadic for the foreseeable future but I’m still around!

<<<Part 5

Scott didn’t seem particularly mollified by the answer, but Thunderbird Two roared into life beneath them, rising to hover above her sister and remaining there for several minutes.  John took the opportunity to grab a blanket from one of the lockers; the cockpit’s air conditioning was on full blast for Scott’s benefit, but with his suit’s thermal regulator out of action – alongside all its other electronics – John was starting to feel the chill.  Suspicious blue eyes watched him but John didn’t acknowledge them, unwilling to give Scott any ammunition.

The hatch lowered and then raised again, bearing Gordon, and with a greeting to Scott the aquanaut settled in the co-pilot chair.

“Thunderbird One is secure and we’re ready to go,” he reported and Thunderbird Two slowly raised further into the air under Virgil’s careful touch.

“Where’s Alan?” Scott asked, craning his head to look for their youngest brother.  John slid out of his seat to replace the dislodged cool pack yet again.  He didn’t bother to answer, though, as the unmistakable roar of Thunderbird Three launching filled the air.  Scott looked taken aback.  “Thunderbird Three?”

“Took four Thunderbirds to save you, bro,” Gordon informed him.  “So be a good rescuee and stay put, okay?”

“Four?”  Scott frowned, and John could see that he was struggling to work it out.  A glance up at the scanner said his temperature was down to one oh one, almost down to acceptable parameters, but still too high for him to be thinking clearly.  “Explain.” Not too high for him to be demanding, but that came with coherency when it came to Scott.  “What happened?”

That much, John could do.

“Thunderbird One got hit by an EMP, which removed both her and you from Thunderbird Five’s sensors,” he started, watching Scott’s eyes widen.  “The EMP has now been neutralised, and Lady Penelope is hunting down the source,” he assured him.

“Kayo?”

Ah. John had been hoping to keep that one quiet for at least a little longer, but of course Scott was wondering why Kayo wasn’t also on the case as their head of security.

“Thunderbird Shadow also ran foul of the EMP,” he admitted.  “Kayo is fine,” he added, steamrollering over the sudden look of panic on Scott’s face.  “A broken leg, but nothing more.”

“You are far worse off,” Virgil added in suddenly.  “It’s a clean break and she’s already trying to escape from Grandma.”

“With you invisible to Thunderbird Five, Thunderbird Three did a flyby to locate the EMP, and then I dropped down to disable it so Thunderbird Two could get to you,” John continued, summarising and hoping that Scott wouldn’t start asking questions he didn’t want to answer. His older brother frowned, and John internally cringed.

“How badss Thunderbird One?” he asked, and John couldn’t hide the wince, which blue eyes immediately focused on.  “John?”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed,” he hedged, and Scott scowled at him.

“Brains can rebuild all of them from scrrch,” he muttered, almost without slurring anything to John’s relief.  “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“That’s true,” John admitted.  “A few damaged panels, and the electronics will all need replacing.  But she protected you and that’s what’s important.”  The cool pack in his hand was getting warm, likely because he had to keep holding it in place as Scott dislodged it, and John decided to put it to one side and start up a fresh one.

Scott hissed as it was applied to his forehead, closing his eyes briefly until John tapped him on the cheek.

“No sleeping,” he said.  “You’ve got a head injury.”

His brother groaned loudly, not that John couldn’t sympathise. Concussions were a common risk and they all knew the joy of being regularly woken for a check all through the night.  Grandma and Virgil were thorough.

“What’s his temperature, John?” Virgil asked, and John checked the readout again.

“One hundred point two.”  Finally, they were out of fever territory.  Virgil made a thoughtful noise.

“Keep the cool packs, but you can give him some pain relief now; I set out the painkiller dose in the cabinet before we took off,” he instructed.  “See if he can drink some water, too.”

John found the loaded needle with ease, and ignored Scott’s protests that he wasn’t in pain as the contents were injected into his arm.  Scott could hide it as much as he wanted, but beneath the packs his skin was beginning to blossom into several bright bruises, and a broken collarbone would always be painful.

Water was also easily obtained, straight out of the fridge.  Helping Scott up into a reclining position so that he could safely drink was more of a challenge than it should have been – Scott was a notoriously bad patient, and at the first shot at freedom he was eager to sit up.  Several cooling packs were dislodged in his attempt, and John dropped the bottle in favour of catching Scott as his injuries caught up with him and he faltered.

Virgil made a noise of displeasure, and Gordon promptly not-me’d mopping up the mess, although he did at least retrieve a second bottle to pass to John rather than face the inevitability of the sequence of events repeating themselves as soon as John released their frustrated big brother.

“Small sips,” the aquanaut reminded them, fussing with the sling to check it hadn’t been dislodged in the movement.  John nodded and Scott rolled his eyes, attempting to claim the bottle for himself with his free arm.

“Stop it,” John snapped, unable to capture the flailing arm without once again letting go of the bottle.  Thankfully, Gordon did the job for him, catching hold of Scott’s wrist and forcing it back down to his side.  John nodded his thanks before lifting the bottle neck to Scott’s lips.  Despite protests, big brother was obviously grateful for the drink and with little more than a glower at them accepted the drops John carefully tilted into his mouth.

Gordon replaced the dislodged packs as best he could while Scott drank, and much to John’s relief mopped up the spilled water despite his earlier claim that he wouldn’t.  Virgil probably had something to do with that – no words were exchanged, but in order to hold Scott in his reclining position John had his back to the pilot’s seat, and the two brothers didn’t always need words to communicate.

With Scott not fighting him – temporarily, at least – and instead reluctantly slumped against his torso, John could feel him starting to shiver from the cooling attempts.  The scanner claimed that his temperature was still the wrong side of one hundred, and indeed seemed to have reached a point where it would rather hold steady than continue to lower.  He reported as much to Virgil, who grumbled.

“There’s not much more we can do with what we’ve got onboard Thunderbird Two,” he said.  “If it’s not going down any more, try to keep it steady until we get back to Tracy Island. Is he shivering?”

“He is right here,” Scott grumbled, shifting.  John handed the water bottle to Gordon and put a hand on his chest to keep him still.

“Yes,” he answered, ignoring blue eyes looking at him in what could have been a childish betrayal.

“Okay.  Gordon, give him a half dose of muscle relaxant,” Virgil ordered, and the aquanaut scurried off to the medicine cabinet, returning with another needle which Scott scowled at and made a half-hearted attempt to evade.  Neither John nor Gordon had any intention of letting him, holding him still until the small amount of liquid was drained from the syringe.

John was unprepared for Scott’s head to rest back on his arm, an almost surrender compared to his prior attempts to escape, but when his eyes started to drift closed, he tapped his cheek again.  He got a disgruntled groan in response, and Gordon pressed the neck of the bottle to Scott’s lips again.

“See if you can drink some more, bro,” he encouraged.  Scott grumbled but accepted more of the water as John once again held the cool pack to his forehead.  “There we go. We’ll have you all cooled down soon.”

To John, it felt like a long flight home.  Scott did little to help, with alternating sleep and escape attempts, but it was also a simple fact that John simply wasn’t used to the homeward journeys. Up on Thunderbird Five, once the rescue was over it was on to the next distress call, or sleep if he was tired and lucky.  The sometimes hour or more journey home was a moot point when he lived in this Thunderbird, and it was only fifteen minutes if he decided to return to Tracy Island himself.  He was also getting quite cold from the constant air conditioning and constant replacing of Scott’s cool packs, and the blanket he’d swiped early on in the journey was beginning to not be enough to keep him warm – something sharp amber eyes had spotted.

He’d glared Gordon into silence before he alerted Virgil or brought it to Scott’s attention.  They lived on a tropical island – warming up wouldn’t be an issue once they arrived. Keeping Scott’s temperature down would be more of a challenge.  With the relaxant putting a stop to the shivering, he had finally crept below the hundred mark, but none of them would be happy until he was back to his normal temperature and chained to the medical bay.

Whether or not they would be literal chains or just the aggressive guard dog behaviour of the family medics on the prowl would remain to be seen.

“We’re coming up on Tracy Island,” Virgil informed them.  “Strap in for landing.”  Scott didn’t protest as John lowered him back down to lie flat and Gordon secured the straps over him, clearly as eager to get home as the rest of them, although John knew he was going to kick up a fuss when it came to being carried out of the Thunderbird.  John returned to his seat, pulling the blanket around him closer, but Gordon headed for the hatch.

Of course, Thunderbird Two couldn’t land while Thunderbird One was dangling beneath her.  The cliff face loomed in front of them, palm trees already leaning back, and as soon as Virgil had her hovering, Gordon let himself down to unhook the crippled ‘bird. With no sign of Thunderbird Shadow, John assumed Brains had somehow managed to get her inside the hangar already. Thunderbird Two’s hangar wasn’t designed to also house two of her sisters (Thunderbird Four notwithstanding), but it was large enough to take Thunderbirds One and Shadow as well, just about.

It was going to be tight.

Thunderbird One was, however, forgotten for the moment in favour of getting her pilot inside.  It took very little time before Thunderbird Two was moving again, coming in for a VTOL landing just outside the hangar and trundling inside.  Thunderbird Shadow was visible in the corner, on a cradle of spare pods with MAX whirring around her.

True to form, Scott was disgruntled – to put it mildly – when instead of releasing the straps to let him stand on his own two feet, Gordon simply engaged the hoverjets and detached the stretcher from the wall of the cockpit.

“I can walk!” he protested, writhing against the straps keeping him in place.

“I don’t care,” Virgil said firmly.  John tried to stand up unobtrusively, staying out of the way of his younger brothers so they could focus on Scott, but the blanket rustled, betraying his movement, and Virgil turned sharply.  “I haven’t forgotten about you, either.”  Before John could say anything, his collar was gripped firmly by a large hand.  “Gordon, you’ve got Scott.”

“F.A.B,” the blond acknowledged, and John watched as he guided the stretcher to the hatch and his two brothers descended before it was their turn.

tbc...

[theonceoverthinker]

A Tumultuous Embrace (2/5) (Golden Hook)

Summary: Captain Hook and Rumplestiltskin have wronged many a man in their days as villains, so many in fact that they’ve unknowingly overlapped on more than one occasion. What are they going to do when two of those cases want revenge and know exactly how to best take it? Now trapped together in a beyond compromising position, will Killian and Rumple be able to work together to fight against impossible odds and get home, or will their lingering hatred of each other prove to be their shared doom as they literally go down together? Chapter 1

AO3      Fanfiction.net

Dynamics Featured: Golden Hook

Content Warning: Guns (They’re not fired off, but they are present)

A/N: Thank you to all who read the last chapter! I've been really excited to release this small MC. I love forced proximity premises and plot lines and who makes for better characters to force together than Rumple and Killian, am I fucking right?! XD In that vein, I really tried to be careful when writing both Rumple and Killian so that they were a balance as to how reasonable, petty, and sympathetic they would be in relation to each other. I hope I did a good job, but if not, let me know, okay? 

This is the whump heavy chapter! Well...maybe discomfort is the better word for it, you know? There's no graphic violence, BUT it leans on whump, so I still wanted to label it accordingly.

Tagging @sherlockianwhovian, @killian-whump, @justsomewhump, @black-wolf066, @therooksshiningknight, @wyntereyez, @darkpoisonouslove, and @z-aliada. If you do (Or don’t, I promise I won’t be offended) want to be tagged in upcoming chapters of this fic, please let me know!

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CHAPTER 2: A TUMULTUOUS AWAKENING

The first thing that greeted Killian in his journey back to consciousness was a pressing, splitting headache. 

He personally preferred a kiss from Emma, but he’d take being alive for the moment as acceptable.

His life had certainly produced far worse ways to wake up.

Killian gingerly opened his eyes, and with that opening came the return of a torturous heap of memories.

Horace and Jasper had attacked him. And they’d actually gotten the jump on him. 

At least that solved one mystery.

Was it bad that his first instinct was to be embarrassed about losing to them?

Either way, the annoyingly still present headache that plagued him wouldn’t let him focus on that matter with any significant level of attention. 

So Killian attempted to soothe it. 

Killian moved to bring his right hand up to his forehead, but was stopped. 

Something had a hold on his arm. 

He then attempted to move him arm downwards to escape what had been holding him in place, only to stop upon feeling a tugging sensation in his left elbow.

Were they connected?

In a third attempt to move his arms, Killian discovered that the answer to that inquiry was a disappointing ‘yes.’

What was going on here?

Without moving his head, Killian looked around. While his view was limited, the chrome lining of the walls told him that the building was industrial in nature. It reminded him of the local cannery. 

And the only place that hosted buildings like those was the docks.

Great. Not only had no one seen him be taken, but now no one was likely in the vicinity to hear his cries for help, should he give them -- and given that he had a feeling that with his assailants likely close by, he shouldn’t.

Well, that solved another mystery, or at least part of one, for even though he knew what building he was in, what he needed to learn was where exactly his body was.

Killian felt around a bit before coming to his conclusion.

He was bound, but by no means in an ordinary position. 

While his left forearm was out in the open, albeit without his hook -- much to Killian’s frustration -- everything from his left elbow and up was clenched tightly, unable to move. Attached to his left elbow was his right hand. He had a bit more freedom there, namely in his elbow, but not by much.

And it soon resonated with him that between his body and limbs, there was something else.

It was something soft.

It was something warm.

It was something LIVING.

Killian made another, this time more cautious, move backwards, only nudging his head as opposed to his entire body. He released a sigh of relief when the movement was successful, but the sigh died in his throat upon seeing the sight in front of him.

There were few things Killian Jones ever expected to wake up to these days.

At the very bottom of that list, there resided the possibility of ever waking up in Rumplestiltskin’s arms.

But lo and behold, that’s where he was, holding his enemy cheek-to-cheek even tighter than he often held his own wife.

Immediately forgetting what had happened mere moments ago, Killian -- who had only just held back from letting out a surprised shout -- made a sharp move to recoil himself from the unwanted embrace, but was met by a just as immediate blowback as he and Rumple slammed back into each other. 

NO…

Killian ignored his better judgment and made another attempt to pull away, but was foiled yet again, and just like last time, their torsos all but clapped when they met once more.

A stinging sensation reverberated through Killian’s body, but as his circumstances -- like Rumple’s body a mere moment ago -- hit him, he could hardly find it in him to care.

They were completely, immovably, almost impossibly stuck together.

Killian listened for any signs of Horace and Jasper’s presence -- nervous that his reckless instinctual movements may have alerted them to the fact that he was awake -- but thankfully, the room they were in remained quiet. Had they been present, Killian had no doubt that they’d likely be laughing their asses off.

Had Horace and Jasper been in their situations, Killian knew he would be.

Once his fears over Horace and Jasper were momentarily put at ease, Killian’s heart sank. Truly, they were stuck together, and at least until Rumple woke up, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

Now that the immediate adrenaline of his discovery had worn off -- or at least part of it, Killian could feel a set of hands bound against the back of his jacket, confirming fears that rivaled Horace and Jasper’s appearance -- that similarly to how Killian was bound to Rumple, Rumple was bound to him. The only difference between their nearly mirrored positions was that because of his lack of a left hand, Killian was instead bound by his left elbow. 

But even that light luxury came with a price. The distance between one’s wrist and elbow was great and the result was that their bodies were pushed even closer together than they would’ve had Killian had both hands.

Just another reason to hate his crocodile…the crocodile he was now bound to in a manner that was inherently intimate.

And wait...was that DROOL oozing over his right cheek?

Killian was getting another headache, but for a completely different reason.

For whatever torture Horace and Jasper had intended for him, they’d definitely succeeded. 

But that begged the question: Given that this was likely but the first step of said torture, what else did they have in store for them?

If there was one thing Killian knew for sure, it was that he was not eager to find out, and even less eager to deal with it with Rumplestiltskin of all people quite literally by his side.

And just as Killian had given his enemy another thought, from his right side, he heard a soft groan.

It seemed like Rumple was about to wake up. 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()

The last time that Rumple had been shushed as he woke up, it was by his wife in their bedroom as she cradled their son in her arms. It made for a memory that would likely rank in Rumple’s top five for the most pleasant moments in his life.

This time, it would make for one of the LEAST pleasant moments.

Rumple didn’t know how to react when he woke up only to see Captain Hook, quite literally right in his face, staring back at him, and shushing him all the while.

Well, that wasn’t true -- his anger set in quickly enough. 

After barely a beat passed, Rumple attempted to push his enemy away, only to discover two unwelcome surprises.

The first was that he could barely move his hands.

The second was that the little that his hands could move only proceeded to push the two of them closer together.

And they were already far too close to each other for Rumple’s liking, all but nose-to-nose and apparently completely unable to do a thing about it. 

Rumple had a million questions to ask, but settled on the most general of them.

“What the hell is going on?” he hissed, firmly, yet quietly. He wanted to scream his demand for information, but he had a feeling that whatever was going on, if Hook was trying to protect him of all people, and especially given their position, it was probably in his best interest to listen...for now, at least.

Hook bit his lip. 

“I don’t know,” Hook whispered, his lips disgustingly close to Rumple’s ear. Rumple attempted to jerk his head back in response, but to little payoff. Hook, apparently resigned to their situation, proceeded. “I was attacked on my way home from work earlier. The kidnappers knocked me out and apparently brought me here. I just woke up to this fresh torture.” Rumple could immediately hear the repulsed confusion in his fellow captive’s voice.

At the very least, Rumple took comfort in the fact that Hook found this position to be just as miserable as he did.

That said, that comfort amounted to little more than a hill of beans.

“I’ve no idea what they want with you, though,” Hook continued. His eyes then bulged, as if he realized something. “Can you use your magic to get us out of here?”

If Rumple had any agency over his hands, he’d hit himself for having not thought of that first.

Focused on their freedom, Rumple attempted to summon a force field between them, only to be crushed when he felt nothing happen.

Determined, Rumple tried another spell, annoyed to see that once again, it was a moot effort. 

And then he tried another.

And another.

He was about to try again, but he stopped upon feeling a very familiar patch of leather around his wrist just below his bindings.

“I can’t,” Rumple growled. “Whoever captured us managed to get that magic confining cuff on me.”

“That’s just great,” Hook muttered, his voiced laced with sarcasm. “Can you see anything that can help us on your end?” All I see in front of me is a wall.”

Rumple looked around, trying to make sense of where they were. He recognized the building as one that he owned, though the property sat abandoned after the previous lender passed away last year.

Apparently, someone -- someone with a bone to pick with Hook -- had decided to turn it into their playpen.

There was a desk across the way, and a dark truck backed into some otherwise free space beside it.

Suddenly, Rumple was able to make something out from the side of the truck.

There, in a grey and red logo along the center was a logo for ‘Horace and Jasper’s Discount Chimney Cleanings.’

And immediately, something clicked.

It wasn’t only Hook who these kidnappers had a problem with.

Rumple turned back to Hook, though given their proximity, it wasn’t as much a turn as it was a shift. Despite his efforts to make space between them, his nose hit Hook’s forehead.

“Can you back up a bit?”

“You know for a fact that I can’t,” Hook snarled. The two exchanged frustrated looks, but Hook’s soon partially dissolved into a curious one. “Anyway, what did you find out?” he whispered, clearly savy to the fact that Rumple had discovered something.

“Who captured us,” Rumple said, careful to keep his voice low.

“Yeah, Horace and Jasper.”

Rumple’s brow furrowed. “You know them?”

“Aye,” Hook said. “And you do as well?”

“Yes.”

“So why are they coming after you?” As he spoke, there was a nastiness in Hook’s tone, as if he expected the worst of stories from Rumple about how’d he’d come into contact with their captors.

Whether or not that was the case, Hook was hardly one to talk.

“Me? Why are they coming after YOU?”

Hook rolled his eyes. “Let me guess,” he grit. “They were victims of one of your deals?”

“And let ME guess: They were victims of your plunderings?”

The two of them glared at each other.

It was just Rumple’s luck that of everyone in this town, the one person he had to be bound to was the most insufferable, hypocritical, pain in the ASS around.

“I can only imagine the kind of scheme you pulled.”

Rumple scoffed. “And I can’t imagine your encounter with them was any nobler than mine.”

But before they could continue, another voice spoke up.

“Well, look at who’s finally awake?”

Horace’s voice had frozen their argument in its tracks. With much bumping and pain along the way, Rumple and Hook turned their heads towards the truck side of the room, their cheeks now pressed together like a sole to a shoe. 

But they couldn’t get too angry about that at the moment, for in front of them were two very familiar men with two very familiar types of weapons in hand.

A gun was pointed at the both of them and Rumple knew that they’d definitely use them if given a reason to.

He only hoped Hook knew that too.

“Didn’t think either of you would see us again, did you?” Jasper gloated, cackling under is breath.

“I’d have thought you two smart enough not to try,” Hook shot back, any fear that he may have had hidden like a master magician as he boldly kept his ground.

Damnit, he really was a reckless bastard, wasn’t he?

Not that Rumple could fully blame him -- though he wasn’t about to absolve him for it either.

Fortunately, or at least as fortunately as things could be given everything else, neither man shot their gun. If anything, the comment had amused them.

“You two think you’re so smart compared to us, don’t ya?” Jasper snickered. “Well, if we’re so dumb, how do you figure we all got here?”

“Trickery,” Rumple answered without missing a beat. Despite himself, he couldn’t ignore the opportunity to take his captors down a peg any better than Hook could. He wouldn’t give Horace and Jasper that satisfaction. “I know from experience that without the intelligence to back it up, it’s little more than the coward’s excuse for cleverness.” 

“Maybe so,” Jasper continued, twirling his gun before turning it back to them. 

“But there’s no denying its effectiveness,” Horace finished, eyeing his and Hook’s bodies as they clenched within their restraints. “By the way, do you like what we set up for you? Seeing as how you both had us locked up for so long,” Horace elaborated, “seems only fair to us that we pay you back in kind. And you even get a friend with you, just like Jasper and I had each other back in those filthy, blasted cells. But I have to admit, you two are far closer than we could ever be.” Horace and Jasper started laughing.

Rumple felt Hook’s hand ball up into a tight fist behind him and he could see him gritting his teeth from out of the corner of his eyes.

In truth, Rumple was doing the exact same thing.

“And now that you have us locked up, what are you going to do?” Rumple asked.

“Well, we figured we’d clean the slate, and why not start with cleaning you two out of our lives entirely.” Horace gestured towards the waterview on the other side of a nearby window. 

“You’re going to throw us into the ocean,” Rumple said. It was more of a statement than a question.

Horace smirked. “Everybody back in our world knew sooner or later, you’d be each other’s downfall. Jasper and I -- we thought in addition to bringing that day nearer, we’d make that literal on top of it.”

“You’ll never get away with this,” Hook growled. “Emma will stop you.”

“Assuming she finds you before you take your little one-way trip,” Jasper heckled. “But I assure you, she won’t and neither will anyone else for that matter.”

“Then if she can’t, WE will!” Hook insisted.

Immediately, Horace and Jasper barked out in laughter.

“I doubt that,” Horace mocked. “We know you two. You and that ‘dearie’ beside you couldn’t get along if your lives depended on it and considering where you are and what’s about to happen soon enough, that’s unlikely to change now.”

Rumple and Hook stayed silent. There were questions on Rumple’s mind, and he was sure the same could be said for Hook -- Why not just throw them off the docks now and get it over with, Why tell them anything, Why keep their mouths ungagged -- those were just a few of them. However, he and likely Hook knew that any premature prompting would deprive them of time they could put towards figuring a way out of this. And so they stayed as quiet as mice, naught for heavy breaths labored through the physical strain of balancing and supporting each other thanks to their binds.

Horace and Jasper smirked. 

“See?” Jasper gloated. “You two would die before working together.”

Hmm. They seemed to take their silence as less of a means of giving themselves a stay of execution and more as a symbol of resignation.

That could work to his and Hook’s advantage.

Rumple hated Hook, and Hook hated Rumple. Those were as much facts as that of the sky being blue. But more than either of them hated each other, they loved their families. For them, they could work together.

Horace and Jasper didn’t think much of that love, and for that, they would lose.

He once more studied Hook out of the corner of his eye, only to see Hook doing the same to him. 

There was a look in his eyes, telling Rumple that he had also realized their ace in the hole too.

Horace, with his gun still pointed at them, looked at his watch. “Jasper, let’s get back to the front. The sooner the cannery’s manager takes off for the night, the sooner we can give these two their one way cruise.”

Well, solved another mystery of their kidnapping.

Jasper nodded. “Good idea, Horace.” He then looked at Rumple and Hook. “And don’t either of you get to screaming,” Jasper said, gesturing towards his and Horace’s guns. “Because I promise, you won’t live long enough to save yourself from anything but a watery grave if you do.”

“But feel free to bicker all you want,” Hoarce implored, cackling as he started to walk away. “It’ll be more fun for us -- like listening to music on the radio, but so, so much sweeter.” Jasper joined in their laughter and as his and Horace’s forms disappeared, so did the sounds of their footsteps.

When they were at last out of sight, Hook moved onto his back and turned to Rumple. Both of them gave the other a look, silently communicating their plan to keep quiet as they discussed their next steps. 

“What are we going to do?” Rumple asked.

Hook bit the inside of his cheek. “Tight spot, but one I don’t doubt we can get out of. They’re not the smartest of men.”

“You have no idea.”

“Trust me,” Hook smirked, “I do.”

Rumple decided it was best to drop the matter. They likely had little time as it stood and bickering was not a way he wanted to waste it with. “So how can we outsmart them this time? I don’t know about you, but I’ve no interest in taking a dip in the ocean.”

A worrying smile that reeked of a plan emerging grew on Hook’s face. “Well, you might want to change your mind on that one,” he said. “Because if we want to get free, we’re gonna have to let them do just that.”

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Killian knew as soon as he thought up his plan, Rumple would likely object.

He’d be lying if he said that fact didn’t give him even a tiny bit of satisfaction.

“Are you insane?” Rumple nearly shouted. If it weren’t for the fact that their in-fighting was exactly what Horace and Jasper were expecting from them, he’d almost be worried.

Still, Killian wasn’t about to risk an encore.

“Shush!” he hissed.

Rumple rolled his eyes, but complied all the same. 

“I didn’t say it would be easy,” Killian stated.

“There’s a difference between ‘not easy’ and impossible and that is impossible!” This time, Rumple had the courtesy to hiss his complaints rather than outright shout them. “How do you propose we swim? In case you forgot, neither of us has our arms!”

“ONE of us has half an arm. And as an experienced swimmer, I can tell you that swimming is mostly kicking, anyways.”

“You’re going to get us killed.” Rumple grit.

Killian shot him a pointed look. “Do you have a better plan?”

Rumple waffled as he worked for solutions. “Bribe them? Threaten them?”

His brow was up before Rumple could even finish his miserable excuses for ideas. “If they cared about a bribe, they’d have given us a ransom and they’ll kill us long before any kind of threat sustains itself. Rumple,” Killian sighed, sucking in his pride as much as he could, “if we don’t do this, we’re gonna die. We owe all of them -- Emma, Henry, Belle, Gideon -- better than that.” 

Emma and Henry -- while a lump couldn’t help itself but form in his throat at the prospect of them worrying for his safety or him never getting the chance to see them again, he pushed it aside. 

No. He’d make it home. He’d hug his family again. He’d kiss his wife and ruffle his stepson’s hair. He’d live a full life with them and the town he had grown to be part of.

He’d make it so, no matter what.

As Killian waited for Rumple’s response, he realized he’d forgotten for a moment that Rumple was immortal. Even if he died, Rumple wouldn’t. Still Killian hoped that the message he was attempting to convey would be enough to sway him. After all, even if he didn’t die, without Killian’s and his magic’s help, Rumple would be trapped under his weight for God knows how long.

Killian could tell Rumple was looking for some other plan -- ANY other plan, but was failing. If not for the fact that this issue affected him quite directly too, he’d probably take some amusement in that.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Killian continued, “I promise I’ll keep you safe. I’ve a family to get home to and for Belle and Gideon’s sake, I want you to get back to yours.”

Rumple sighed, his disbelief in what he was agreeing to so agonizingly apparent on his face that it almost hurt Killian to watch. “How far will we have to swim?” 

“If we can handle the current, hopefully, just to the beach,” Killian approximated after a moment of thought. “Then we can find help at a nearby house.”

The response was immediate and about as predictable as predictable could be.

“And if we can’t handle the current?” 

Killian took a deep breath. “We either land in the woods or we flow outside Storybrooke. Either way’s better than dying.”

“We’re gonna die,” Rumple groaned.

For as best as he could in their situation, Killian shrugged. “Better to go out fighting than not.”

Rumple sighed. “Fine. Then what’s our plan for once we’re submerged?”

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Horace and Jasper had awful laughs. They were so disjointed, lacking any kind of rhythm or charm. It was worse when added to the fact the latter of the two had he and Hook in his clutches, forcing them to endure the subsequent rustling of his hands around their waists as he did it, making the whole experience that much more uncomfortable -- as if this whole atrocity wasn’t bad enough already.

Rumple knew he shouldn’t be focusing on things like that right before he and Hook plunged off the side of a dock while tied together as closely as two enemies could ever hate to be, but given that...well, he and Hook were about to be plunged off the side of a dock while tied together as closely as two enemies could ever hate to be, he figured the distraction could relieve him of some of the heart-thumping panic.

It didn’t, but it was better than nothing.

It was better than thinking about the freezing water that would soon surround their bodies.

It was better than entertaining the idea that they wouldn’t be able to swim fast enough to beat the current, or even stop themselves from drowning.

And it was better than thinking about how if this failed, he could very well spend far too many of his immortal days, if not the rest of them, at the bottom of the ocean with only Hook’s deceased corpse and the occasional school of fish for company.

Most anything was better than that.

The docks were freezing. Rumple was almost never here at night, and as he stood there in the grasp of one enemy and forcibly hugged by another, he knew it was for good reason. There was an extra level of eeriness that the docks had when added to the already unsettling darkness that this time of night was most famous for, and was further complemented by the creaky wood beneath him and the ebony water below them.

Just how the hell were they going to swim out of that water? It looked dark enough to prevent those with even the most heightened of senses from seeing their hands in front of their faces.

And in just a matter of moments, they’d need to navigate those same waters without the use of a large portion of their limbs.

This plan of Hook’s had better damn well work...

As to keep the two of them quiet while Jasper kept them in place, Horace’s gun remained, as it had since the two of them were forced out of the building five minutes ago, aimed directly at their temples, keeping Rumple even more alert.

“You two best take a nice, deep breath,” Horace mocked, “because it’s gonna be your last.”

Hook stared at Rumple and he gave him a noticeably pointed stare. It looked to be reassuring, but was definitely by no means fearless.

And why wouldn’t it be? 

They were about to take a dunk in the ocean...and there was no promise they’d get the chance to ever dry off.

Their plan may have had legs to stand on -- or swim on -- but it didn’t have arms.

Jasper seemed able to read Rumple’s fear like a book. He leaned in close to them, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

“We promise, you won’t be wet for long once you get to Hell,” he said, a mocking tone in his voice.

Rumple could see Hook stifling an annoyed snort, as if to say ‘been there, done that.’

A large part of Rumple wished he had that kind of bravery. He thought back to what -- or rather, who -- had inspired that bravery in him before.

Rumple stared down at the ocean once more, now with a new resolve.

It was still terrifying, but as he forced himself to look, he thought of Belle and Gideon. He thought of how if he didn’t do this, he’d miss his son’s first steps, his first words, and every other moment that would help him grow into a man. He thought of Belle and how much he’d regret not getting home to her, leaving them both with a final interaction that amounted to what felt now to be the pettiest of arguments, and missing the chance for them to grow old together.

With all that in mind, though he was still scared out of his wits, Rumple made a vow.

He’d make it home to Belle and Gideon -- no matter what he’d have to face...or who he’d have to work with to make it so.

“So,” Horace started, laughter bubbling like a brook underneath him, “before you two...take a dive...any last words?” Jasper joined in and the two beamed as they began to shift the two of them ever closer to the edge of the docks.

Rumple REALLY hated that laugh of theirs.

“You won’t get away with this.” Rumple and Hook eyed each other as they took their last deep breaths. It wasn’t that shocking that they’d say something along the lines of a similar sentiment, but to say the same thing was nonetheless surprising.

With any luck, that would be a good sign for their immediate future.

“We just did.”

That seemed to be all the prompt that was needed for Horace’s plan to take its final action.

He gave Jasper an affirmative nod and with that. Jasper shoved the two of them off of the docks and into the sea.

Of the many things that scared Rumple, nothing was as uniquely petrifying as falling. It wasn’t his biggest fear by any means, but as he and Hook cascaded down with the wind hitting their faces like bricks, unable to move anything but their legs, Rumple felt utterly horrified. 

He released the breath he had been holding, and Hook was quick to silently scold him for it.

Quickly, Rumple took another one just before the pair hit the water.

The ocean hit him first with a force close to what one feels when they punch glass with their fists, but as if those fists encompassed their whole body. Then, the feeling changed and only the pure coldness of the water could be felt.

Rumple didn’t let himself feel out the new environment for long. Now that Horace and Jasper’s plan had been completed, now was the time to enact theirs. 

He looked to Hook for the next step forward -- or rather, kick forward. Hook nudged them downward and outwards from where they’d fallen. He explained it before back in the building after they’d agreed to his plan -- the safest way of surviving both the ocean and their assailants’ guns would be if Jasper and Horace thought they were truly dead, and once they were far enough out so that their captors wouldn’t see them, they’d resurface and start swimming for the beach.

He desperately hoped Hook was truly right in his assumption, because if he wasn’t and they didn’t make it through this ordeal alive, he actually WOULD make his afterlife Hell.

Rumple felt Hook’s free arm circling by his back and a soft touch by his leg reminded him to start kicking. Hook’s eyes pointed him in the direction they were supposed to go and Rumple reluctantly followed. After about two minutes of nonstop and frantic kicking, partnered with his continuously dwindling supply of oxygen, Rumple began to feel woozy.

As if on cue, Hook looked to him and quickly directed they swim upwards.

It was a tough trip up and Rumple had questioned for a moment if he’d even make it, but in the end, he did. 

Immediately Rumple started breathing heavily and Hook was doing the same beside him. Unconsciously, he leaned his head on Hook’s chest.

Hook not only let him, but leaned his own head against the side of Rumple’s. Rumple could only contribute both actions to a mutual sense of exhaustion.

If there was one thing they could likely agree on, it was that it had been a long fucking day.

Rumple shuddered as a haze of chilliness formed a cocoon around them. It may have been summer, but Storybrooke’s Maine-bound water in the middle of the night was cold no matter the season. Because of that, the water was treacherous for reasons far beyond its current and density.

That wasn’t to say that they weren’t issues at all -- the pull of the ocean told Rumple as much.

They needed to get out of here.

“W-we need to start swimming out to the beach,” Hook said, clearly reaching the same conclusion he did.

All Rumple could do was nod after pushing his head off of Hook. 

Rumple started kicking a beat after Hook did.

By Hook’s estimation, the safest part of the beach they could land on was about three hundred feet out from the water when aligned to how far they swam out to and about thirteen hundred feet north of where they currently were. They could follow the current for the thirteen hundred or so feet, but once they were parallel to the beach, they’d need to fight to escape it to reach the shore. 

Well, they’d accomplished harder tasks.

The current, for the few moments they could ride it, was a godsend. Rumple’s legs felt more like jelly than bone and his rigidly trapped body fared no better in the cold water. He felt like, had they not been in life-threatening danger, he could pass out on the spot. Hook seemed to feel the same. Even though he was keeping an eye out for the point where they needed to leave the current, the tension that had been in his shoulders since this nightmare of theirs had begun was lessened for a moment and he allowed for a soft groan to leave his lips between pants and gasps for air.

Rumple couldn’t see the beach, so all he could go by to have any idea of where they needed to go were the glimmers of street lamps and lights from inside people’s homes and Hook’s navigational skills.

Looks like there WERE uses for pirates.

“It’s time!” Hook shouted, pushing them against the current, with Rumple immediately following.

The current that had blessed them until but a moment ago retaliated against their attempt for freedom with the brutality of a fireball to the face. They were making progress, but the progress was poor at best as the current continued to try to pull them back into it.

“Go faster,” Hook commanded.

Rumple tried -- Zeus knows he did. Even as he felt his feet’s productivity slipping, he kicked at the water like a paddle against a ping pong.

But try as he and Hook may, he could feel that their efforts to fight off the current weren’t enough. They were getting caught in it and drifting farther and faster away from the beach.

Hook seemed determined to not give up, but before they could make another try, Rumple noticed something.

That something just happened to be a giant rock that they were now set to directly collide with. 

He shouted to get Hook’s attention, but Hook didn’t seem to pay him mind as he tried to make a break for the beach once more. Rumple even tried to help him just to have some chance of escaping the boulder’s impact.

But it didn’t work.

All it took was one unluckily timed wave to send their heads hurdling towards the rocks.

And their bodies rushing into the rocks was the last thing Rumple saw that night.

[zonamievents]

ZoNa Summer Festival Day #1

Theme: Ice Cubes Rating: PG / Teen Word Count: 2,706 words Note: For the rest of the ZoNa Summer Festival themes, check out the #ZoNaSummerFestival tag, or this blog!

‘One thousand forty-eight… One thousand forty-nine!’ Keeping track of every single swing of his oversized mallet was a type of meditation for Roronoa Zoro. It kept him focused despite the ache in his muscles, providing him with a distraction from the strain he enjoyed putting on his body. Any distress he experienced while training was only another challenge he’d need to face in order to become the strongest swordsman in the world.

His least favourite hurdle to date had to be the sunburn that was being baked into his back, however.

He had been working out on the landing beneath the main mast for nearly an hour, without a shirt on, without any protection from the rays of the sun. Every single flex caused the skin along his back to sting as he carried on with his regiment and his vigilance divulged easily between the numbers in his head and the way his shoulders simmered. Zoro knew he wouldn’t stop his practice because he was hurting though - he had only grown so powerful by fighting through the pain of his training methods over the years - so he convinced himself that Chopper could fix him right up once he was finished. 

Despite the agony that ran along his spine, the swordsman threw his mallet overhead and prepared to count even higher.

“Zoro?” A familiar shrill scream caused him to hesitate in his stride. Of course she was behind him, which caused him to look back at her by pivoting his hips in order to acknowledge her obvious panic. He watched her bikini-clad body peak out from behind the mast at the exact same pace that he turned around.

With gritted teeth, he asked her, “What?”

“Are you okay?” The words left her slowly, cautiously, like she was hesitant about bothering him when he was exercising. Still, he could tell by the look in her eyes that her concern was much too overwhelming for her to pretend that she didn’t notice him.

It still didn’t make sense to Zoro as to why her sudden show of sympathy forced her to interrupt him. With his mallet still clenched between his hands high above his head, he lost his breath momentarily when he answered her, “Yeah.”

“Huh.” Nami replied, obviously unconvinced of his short answer. “I just came up here to water my grove and I heard you grunting over there a lot more than usual. It sounded like you were in pain or--”

“I’m not!” He promised. 

Nami immediately shrugged off his irritation, deciding to let her worry go. “All right.” His aggression had stolen away her interest in their interaction, which worked out well for the swordsman who was ready to make his one thousand fiftieth throw. His fingers twitched around the handle, his core warned him that it was growing tired, and yet he took his time to reposition himself properly so that his next swing was still refined.

‘One thousand...fifty!’

“Oh! Zoro, what the hell!?” Once again, her screeching startled him until he became still. At least this time his arms were down. 

“What!?” Zoro bellowed. It took all of the air in his lungs to shout at her, which was something he was quite happy to do.

“Your back… It’s burnt! Can’t you feel it?” Nami couldn’t decide if she felt like pitying him or chastising him as both were reflected in her tone.

‘Of course I can, idiot.’ He thought to himself.

“Relax! I’m fine.” Zoro chose to answer her more carefully. He knew that the greatest threat to his sunburn was an irritated, offended navigator, so he chose to keep his true sentiment a secret.

If the anger in her eyes could have manifested into flames, Nami would have simply incinerated him and made the issue of his sunburn moot. Zoro moved his gaze to those scowling, pink lips of hers and anticipated the flamethrower she was about to launch at him with her surely scathing words, since he knew she wouldn’t just walk away quietly now that she was riled up.

Except, that was exactly what she did.

Almost as if she had taken offence to his yelling for the first time in their entire relationship, Nami stomped off in her ridiculous heeled sandals until she had successfully opened the small trap door, climbed down the ladder that would take her to the kitchen and disappeared completely from his sight. 

“Tch.” Was his response to the entire conversation. He hadn’t meant to be so rude, if the truth be told. The stress of his exercise routine plus the added burning sensation along his back had put him in a foul mood already. Her interruptions were unnecessary and unwarranted. 

Maybe he’d save her from some future villain as a form of an apology.

For now, Zoro was grateful for the peace and quiet once again. He was grateful to return his attention to his mallet and resume at one thousand fifty strokes. With roughly only one quarter of his practice completed, there was still a great deal more to get through before dinner time. All he really needed to do was even out his exposure to the sun and turn his body around until he faced a different direction, he hypothesized. 

For the rest of his routine, Zoro decided to face the back of the ship and take in the view of the ocean, particularly paying attention to the waves that were broken up by the Sunny’s rudder. 

Never mind the pair of heels he heard behind him once again. Zoro chose to believe that it was nothing more than Robin coming to water her own garden, that he scared Nami away with his crass behaviour and he was free of anymore of her meddling. Almost as if he feared that he might be wrong, Zoro reached for the grip of his mallet and was more than ready to complete his one thousand fifty-first swing…!

“Agh!” He screamed when something frightfully cold slammed into his slightly singed skin. Zoro’s entire body recoiled from the frigid touch, causing him to dance around the wide range of his mallet’s head in order to escape such cruelty.

While he wasn’t surprised that it was Nami who subjected him to something so unpleasant, he also wasn’t too thrilled to see her again. All of his previous guilt evaporated. “What the--!?”

“You can’t see it,” Nami began, infuriated. In her hand was checkered dish cloth wrapped around something jagged. He easily deduced that it was a huge collection of ice cubes she stole from the freezer in the kitchen down below, but the size of the cluster looked absolutely insane. “But your sunburn makes you look like you’re wearing Luffy’s vest. The one he wore when we first met him.”

“So you thought you’d hit me with some ice and make it all disappear!?” Zoro called out her lunacy loud enough so that the entire ship could hear.

Unbothered, Nami continued, “If it hurts so much that you’re whimpering, just take a break and put on a damn shirt. Or better yet, get some sunblock on. You know I use it all the time when I’m tanning. You could have asked me nicely for it just now instead of whining like a kid.”

“You could have just minded your own business!” Zoro retorted. 

“I’m trying to help you! If it ends up blistering, you won’t be able to work out for a week until it's all healed! Then, you’d be wishing you’d listened to me!” Nami fired back.

Uninterested in anything else that was even remotely heated, he was ready to burn this conversation down with some scorching hot words of his own. “I didn’t ask you to give a damn about it! You can’t just mind your own damn business, can you? Go back to your trees or your maps or whatever and leave me the hell alone! Got it!?” 

It was her fault, he concluded.

He wasn’t going to blame the sun for his bad mood when Nami was more often than not the cause of it.

This time, he didn’t wait to see if she’d respond or storm off in a huff. Zoro made the decision to turn his back on her first. 

His dismissal of her was not received well. 

“Rgh! Dammit!” shouted a forcibly chilled swordsman when he felt a handful of ice slip underneath the back of his haramaki. The ice cubes jostled around beneath the heavy fabric and even started to melt before he could claw them out. When he realized he had missed two of the slippery devils, he simply pulled on his haramaki until there was enough room for them to fall right out. Looking back and forth between the pair on the floor and the bunch that he held, he realized he had been attacked with nearly blocks of ice!

An unladylike snort escaped his attacker.

Zoro lifted his one good eye to glare at Nami, who appeared to have found his involuntary, flustered dance rather amusing. Her mouth was curled into a rather wide grin, her big brown eyes were wide with delight and they even sparkled with some kind of satisfaction too. It irritated him thoroughly to see her so happy at his expense…

That was when Zoro realized that there was enough ice in her hand for him to exact some kind of revenge.

The mound of ice cubes was unwrapped in her hand since she had just shoved some underneath his haramaki, allowing him to snatch a large amount with his quick reflexes and large hand. Shock crashed down upon her face so fast, Nami’s mouth fell open when she realized that she had foolishly supplied him with ammo.

Just in case she thought they were going to simply resolve this with words, Zoro offered one kind word of advice: “Run.”

Nami fumbled over her sandal-wearing feet at first when she tried to run away from him, much to his amusement. It was his turn to smirk at her as he took one large step, then another, and another until he was hot on her trail. He gave chase after the supposed cat burglar like the angry mutt he was, only his cruel chuckling replaced what should have been enraged barking. There was nowhere to go on this section of the ship unless she planned to jump the railing or take her time trying to climb back down into the kitchen. 

It’d be amusing for him either way.

But of course, nothing was ever easy with Nami. She decided that her best course of action was to run around her precious trees in a poor attempt to put some distance between them. Zoro’s physical power plus his longer limbs managed to close any sort of added gap before she could look over her shoulder to see if it worked.

“Ah!” She yelped the moment she saw how close he was.

Trailing around the back of the main mast, Zoro felt strong, in control. He seized the moment to tease her for once. “What’s wrong, Nami?” “Stay away!” She screamed.

“Don’t you want to cool down too?” “I’d rather fall in the ocean than let you touch me!”

“I can help you with that too.”

“No!” Her piercing plea only entertained him more. 

Zoro knew he was much too engrossed in playing the predator against his typical tyrannical enemy. Nevertheless, he wasn’t going to stop until she knew what it felt like having ice stuck in her…

Well, her bikini bottoms, he supposed.

No matter where he put them, he’d enjoy watching her reaction.

“Hey!” Shouted Zoro’s greatest annoyance through the trap door down below.

For some reason, it panicked him to think that someone would find him behaving so fiendishly with the navigator. Anyone else in the crew would probably view his actions as predatory, even if Nami was definitely more of a danger to the average man than he would ever be. Their dynamic might be misunderstood by anyone else in the crew, especially the Prince of Dumbass Kingdom!

So, he reacted reflexively.

Zoro reached out in a desperate attempt to stop Nami from running, and he managed to catch her arm just as they had circled back around the mast. With her grove acting as the perfect cover, he knew they would be shielded if Dartboard Eyebrow tried to climb the ladder leading to the kitchen. 

Still, he knew that if he was caught tormenting a bikini-clad Nami, he’d spend the rest of the afternoon fighting off the ‘vengeance of love’.

Before he knew it, his large build had pinned Nami against the back of the main mast. He towered over her otherwise petite frame, with only her breasts keeping him from pressing his entire body flat against hers--

No, it wasn’t just her breasts.

She had been holding her arsenal of ice cubes close to her torso, and the impact of his abs against her hands caused the entire bundle to tumble out and slither down their pelvises, thighs and crash down onto their feet. 

There wasn’t any time to react to the chilling assault when the Sunny’s residential asshole called up from down below, “Is something wrong, Nami-san?”

“U-Uh, n-no!” She chirped frantically. 

Zoro observed the way her eyes couldn’t seem to focus, felt the way her entire being shivered against his. The way she wiggled and squirmed… caught his attention more so than some melting pellets of ice ever could. With his brow arched curiously to see what she would do next, he merely listened when she was further questioned by the blond idiot, “Oh, it sounded like you were being chased by something up there.” “I-It was a bug!” Nami lied while staring him dead in the eye. When he smirked at her fib, she made sure to add on defiantly. “Just a really big pest! But I got him.”

“That’s my Nami-swan!” Was the idiot’s reply, completely fooled by her words.

Zoro, however, wasn’t. Instead, he couldn’t help but notice the way Nami’s right shoulder shuffled ever so slightly just as she started to regain control of herself after the initial impact their bodies had. A twinge went off inside of him, warning him not to let her strike!

His large hand rose high enough to catch her wrist just in time, and clasped between her fingers was a stray cube of ice.

Admiring her moxie was one thing. Wanting to avoid being pelted again was another. He knew he was in complete control of both her actions and the last of her arsenal, so Zoro did the only thing he could think of: he brought her hand to his mouth and made her feed him the ice. It crossed his lips and instantly chilled his tongue, yet he managed to stick the tip of it out and lick the slight dribble off of his mouth easily enough. All the while, Nami’s eyes were wide while she observed the way he chomped on the remainder of her supply.

“Hm, maybe you were right: it is kind of refreshing.” He admitted with an evident edge to his tone, one that was meant to grate on her last nerve.

No longer surprised or amused, Nami tore her wrist free and shoved at his sweat-slick chest. “You moron!” She scolded him with a fury that was most likely hot enough to rival the sun she was trying to protect him from in the first place. “Burn, for all I care! I hope you’re aching the next time you have to fight someone!” Then, she placed all of her weight onto her heels and stomped away once again.

Zoro was ready to let her go stew in her anger, return to his training and move on with his day. When he turned to face his resting mallet, though, he felt something cool run along the edge of one of his abs…

Before she could turn the corner around her grove, the swordsman picked the melting ice out of his haramaki, aimed it at her bikini bottoms and threw it across the deck…!

“AH!” 

“Nami-swan!?”

Scooping up his mallet, Roronoa Zoro wore the cheekiest grin and prepared himself. “One thousand fifty-one…!”